The Halloween Hurricane

The following Halloween Story Contest 2023 has themes of non-consent sex, fear and other dark themes. If such content offends you, please do not read. This is an erotic FICTION story not meant as any sort of gender, political or societal protest. This is purely for entertainment and never meant to happen in reality. If you have issues with such kinks, please do not read.

My eyes jerk open, showing me the dark and shadowy ceiling of my bedroom. For a moment I stay as I am, laying on my back and listening to the cascade of sounds that I hear. From this, my heart pounds hard, as if waking from a terrible nightmare. What adds to it is that it is impossible to tell what time it is.

It is Halloween night after all, the one night you are supposed to get scared. Only this Halloween is unlike any I've ever had. And as I lay staring at the shadowy ceiling I consider that getting scared from a scary movie or fake haunted house is a hundred times better than getting scared like I am now. For it feels like ice cold water is pumping through my body instead of blood.

Listening to the sounds of rain and distant thunder, I begin to wonder what woke me? The only thing that could have done it is a loud sound, like someone talking or a door closing. Those are normally the things that wake me while sleeping. Yet now, I don't hear anything at all. No footsteps, or doors or anything like that from inside the house.

Sitting up in my bed, I look around my darkened bedroom. As I do, the sounds of the storm outside seem to get louder. That's the way it's been since the hurricane started. At first I thought the sounds of the hurricane to be relaxing with its nonstop rain with thunder every so often. But now I hear the anger and rage of the storm with it's whipping winds and pounding rain.

Looking at my alarm clock in reaction, I see the clock face is still completely black, showing that the power is still out. Thankfully the solar batteries I have contain a lot of juice so emergency power isn't an issue for me. Nearly every major room in the house has one, such as one is powering my refrigerator. I have one in my bedroom as well, but don't want to waste energy on something like the alarm clock or by turning on the lamp.

As many times as I tell myself that the storm is what woke me, my heart doesn't fully believe it. Even when I tell myself that I'm just freaked due to the hurricane, I still feel that the storm didn't wake me, but something else did.

Why am I freaked out? Well, I'm a single woman, living alone in the middle of a hurricane. So much could happen right now in which I would be screwed. Like if a tree falls over and crashes into my house. Or a crazed madman breaks in to kill me. There's no way the police or anyone else could reach me in time to save me.

What's the real reason I'm freaked out? That stupid fucking bitch in the shop, that's why. A few days ago when I was out shopping for supplies for this hurricane, I came across a small spiritual store. It was a store in a crowded little shopping center, the type you would easily overlook.

So I went inside, thinking I would buy a spiritual candle to light during the storm. That's when I noticed that this was unlike any store I had ever been in. Instead of looking like a storm, this looked more like a hoarder's house. There was so much everywhere, piled on top of each other instead of on shelves or even having prices.

That's when the woman, whomever she was, came out. Not sure if she was the owner, or an employee, or some old crazy bitch that happened to sneak inside. But she told me that All Hallow's Eve needed a sacrifice to appease the old gods, and that they had chosen me.

I of course asked what she was talking about, but she just repeated the same thing over and over. That I was to be the All Hallow's Eve sacrifice. That they would come and take what they wanted. And that there was nothing I could possibly do to stop it.

The woman was clearly crazy, especially the way she looked as she could have played a witch in any horror movie. I rushed out of there, not wanting to get hurt when she tried to attack me or something. Logically speaking, she was probably trying to spook me into buying a bunch of crap from her to protect me against the gods, but I didn't fall for it.

And now, as I sit in the dark, I keep hearing her repeat her warning. It seems so much more plausible with the sound of the hurricane overhead, like it is the herald of the gods. That they are already here, ready to take their victim.

Getting out of my bed, I walk into the living room. The living room is brighter than my bedroom, but it too is clouded in shadow. But I feel better being in this room for some reason. Maybe its because this room has more light, or maybe it's because the living room is much larger. Whatever the reason, I am able to push the crazy old lady out of my head.

Since the A/C is off due to the power, and there's no one to see me, my 30 year old body has on comfortable clothes to deal with the hurricane. Normally I wouldn't let anyone catch me in these gym shorts or this old t-shirt. Not my most flattering look, but I'm comfortable. I even forgo my bra so my 34D girls are able to bounce and swing free under my shirt.

Moving to the window that's aimed at the front of my house, I look out at the street. A sigh comes out of me as I see the storm is not just raging on, but is really starting to show it's might. All over the other yards are covered in broken branches, debris and look roughed up.

That's when I see the huge branch in the middle of the street that would take a chainsaw to break down. It's dark out there, but I think it's really a tree that's fallen over. For sure there would be no way for a car to get by because of it. Not that it matters because the flooding has gotten worse. When I checked earlier, the rushing water was just an inch or two in the street. Now it's over the curb. Sure, it's a long way to the house, but it's getting worse.

Hopefully the rain pulls back some, though this is doubtful. From what I understand we still have at least 3 hours of this hurricane. By that time who knows how bad the flooding might be. Or what damage might occur.

Deciding to make myself some coffee, I go into the kitchen. Once I enter, I stop and look out the bar opening, where you can see the living room from the kitchen and vice versa. At the moment the entire house has a strange vibe. Wherever there is a solar battery, I've put an LED light since they barely take any juice. It helps light up the room, but it leaves the house looking creepy. Where there's enough light to see where you are going, but enough shadows that someone could easily hide.

"You are being silly," I tell myself, but only in my mind. I was going to say it out loud, but some part of me warns me not to. That by saying anything out loud will give away my position. That if there is someone here, they will know exactly where I am. This is silly to think inside my house, but I can't help it.

I nearly announce that I won't be anyone's sacrifice, but again I stop myself. This is nothing more than my own anger and frustration wanting to come out, and it'll be stupid to do if there really is someone else here. By even thinking that she has any part of what is happening, I'm letting that old witch win.

Not wanting to give her the satisfaction, I try hard to push past the thought that someone is in the house with me. I mean, it's a silly and stupid thought, but one that refuses to exit my mind. If the old witch was the only strange thing to happen, then I might be able to move past it. But since she wasn't, it is damn hard to try and think of anything but someone else might be in here with me.

Early this morning, way before the storm had started, I was outside my house preparing. I went around the outskirts and brought in any loose items that could get whipped around and break a window. Most where light items, like my patio chairs, but a few where heavier, such as my gardening tools which I always leave out on a shelf in the back.

When I was doing this, I noticed a man at the end of the street. A man that looked like he was staring right at me. But this wasn't some neighbor on his yard or a person out for a walk to calm his nerves. This guy looked creepy and was in the middle of the fucking street.

This guy was facing me wearing dark clothing from head to toe. Just standing there, not moving at all and staring at me. What made it worse was that I couldn't see his face. The way he was standing the sun was shining down behind him, keeping his front in shadow. It was one of, if not the creepiest thing I had ever seen.

I don't know how long I stood there, watching the guy stare at me. I was just stunned by the guy to the point I couldn't look away. Even though he was pretty far away, I was scared that he would somehow pop up next to me. Like he could magically transport and there was no place you could run to or hide.

What didn't help is that the guy had a huge frame. He was super tall and very well built, making him look like some reject WWE wrestler. Where he probably could throw my entire body across my yard with a single hand.

I tried to go about as if the guy wasn't bothering me, as that must have been what he wanted, but I found myself checking on him every few moments. The entire time he just stood there, looking at me.

The idea to call the police on him did occur to me, but I didn't. Already the cell network was on the fritz thanks to the oncoming hurricane so if I did call the police, the call would most likely drop before I got anything out. And who knows what the guy would have done if he noticed me doing this. That could have been what set him off.

In yet another creepiest move, I went to check on him for the millionth time only to find he was gone. I didn't see him walking away or anything. Like in a horror movie, the guy just disappeared into thin air. I even ran out into the street to try and see if he was hiding, but nope. He was gone.

As I fill my coffee cup with bottled water, I still try to convince myself that the guy isn't in my house. I tell myself how the guy was all the way down the street, so there was no way he could have gotten in while my garage was open. After all, when he disappeared, I immediately closed and locked every door and window. And there's no telling if he even went in my direction.

In what I feel is true, the guy was probably getting his rocks off by scaring me, just like the old witch. That creep stood there, dick hard as he knew how creepy he looked and how it scared me. The sicko probably went to find a bush to jack off in. Fucking weirdo.

I remind myself that when I came in the house, I checked every door and window to make sure they were locked. I did this multiple times to make sure the house was secure. If that guy did come by, he would have learned there was no way in. That the only way in was to break a window which would have been silly as I have an alarm system. The cell network may have been clogged, but the direct line to the alarm system would still be working just fine. Any break in would bring the police almost at once.

But now, with the power out, the alarm system is worthless. And with all the noise from the storm, would I hear it if he broke inside? What's to say he didn't already break in? Could that have been what woke me?

No. If he did break in, I would have clearly heard it and known what it was. Plus with the way the wind is blowing outside, I would hear a lot of noise coming in the house if there was a broken window. He couldn't have broken in without me hearing it.

Unable to stop my fear from getting the best of me, I put down the coffee cup and head back to my bedroom. As I walk, I make sure to look around and try to listen for any foreign sounds. For anything to let me know there's someone in the house.

My mind will drive me crazy unless I check the house, again. I have to make sure I am alone. Otherwise I really may have some sort of mental breakdown, thinking that there's someone or something in the house. In short, I have to make sure I'm alone, or that old witch's voice will be echoing in my head all night. All Halloween night at that.

Now in my bedroom, I go to my closet. I'm not exactly proud of this, but after the divorce, I purchased myself a shotgun. Not to use against my ex, which wouldn't be that bad of an idea as he's a cheating asshole loser, but because it had been such a long time since I lived alone. I had gotten used to someone living in the same house as me, so if there was an issue, you always had help. Now that I'm alone, there's no one here to help me if something goes wrong. So I went out and purchased a shotgun.

Pulling the case down from the top shelf, I use my thumb to unlock the electronic case lock. It clicks open, to which I pull the shotgun out. After checking it like they trained me to do, I open it and put in the shotgun shell. After closing it, I feel much better. Much safer.

I walk out of my closet with the gun pointed in front of me. I slowly walk back into my bedroom, prepared for anything to pop out. If there is someone in the house, they are not going to like what they are about to find.

Many people have asked me why I didn't purchase a small handgun instead of a shotgun, as the force of the blast would most likely send me flying backward if I ever fired it. The answer is simple. With this shotgun, I just need to aim in the general direction of the bad guy and he's fucked. With a handgun, you have to be precise and on point, and in a stressful or dangerous situation, that wouldn't be me. So with my shotgun, it's just one shot and the problem is solved.

With my new best friend pointed in front of me, I exit out of my bedroom and proceed to explore my house. My house has 4 bedrooms and two bathrooms, which seems like a lot for a person like me, but I swear I need a bigger place. I have a lot of hobbies and each room is devoted to these passions. One room is my sewing room, another my office/library where I work at, another my drawing/drafting room and finally my bedroom.

Making sure to go slow and being as quiet as possible, I go through each room with the shotgun and the flashlight attachment. Each closet is checked, each shadowy corner scoured, every cabinet opened...but nothing. I check each room twice, making sure to check places that may seem impossible for someone to hide, like the top shelf in the closet or in the trash can.

After checking for a third time, it's pretty clear there's no one here waiting to kill me. Not even an unlocked window that someone could have entered. The house is locked up tight, like it was all the other times I checked. The only room I don't check is the master bedroom and that's because I was just in there and know no one was in there.

Having checked everything does make me feel better. Even checking the small 2^nd bathroom makes me feel better, where there's only a single cabinet and a tub with the curtain pulled all the way to the side. It's the sort of small bathroom where you can see everything by standing in the door frame.

As I stand in the hallway, just outside the 2^nd bathroom, I think of how stupid I'm being. That I let some old crazy lady and a loser creeper get the best of me. How dumb can I be?

Able to breathe better as everything has been checked, including the attic hatch, which is still locked, I think about the coffee that I didn't get to have. The warm, smoothing coffee that is sure to calm me in the midst of the storm outside and from the storm in my mind. For I still have at least another hour of the worst of the hurricane.

Right before I walk away, I look back into the small bathroom. For some weird reason, my eye falls on the toilet paper roll. I have a small stand in front of the toilet that has a roller for the toilet paper, as well as space for extra rolls and a few other items. I like having the stand instead of the roller being attached to the wall.

Looking at the roll of toilet paper, I see that it's on the roller like normal, but the end paper is facing forward. At first I think maybe I'm not seeing this correctly due to how dark it is, so I step into the bathroom to take a closer look while shining my flashlight on it. And...yes, I'm seeing what I thought I was seeing.

This sends a cold chill over me as someone has changed the direction of the toilet paper roll. You see, one joke I used to play when I was still married to my ex, is that I would put toilet paper on the holder the "wrong" way to annoy him. It was an old silly joke we used to play, where we did little stupid acts to annoy the other, such as him putting dishes in the wrong spot on purpose. Ever since then, whenever I put on a new toilet paper roll, I put it the wrong way.

Staring at the roll, I tell myself that I must have put the paper on the holder the correct way and forgot about it. I mean, I don't even remember when I last changed this roll, so what's to say I wasn't preoccupied or something when I did it?

But that doesn't feel right. That's not me. I wouldn't have put it any other way.

What does this mean? That someone broke in to fix my toilet paper roll? That's crazy. Not only is it crazy, it's stupid. If someone told me they believed a person broke into their house and a changed toilet paper roll as their proof, I would start laughing at them.

On edge, I check the small bathroom for any other changes, shotgun aimed. I proceed to check every area I can, even behind the toilet and under the other rolls. But there's nothing changed.

Leaving the bathroom I try to tell myself that it was some guest who did it. They went to the bathroom, saw it and fixed it. But who was the last person I had over? Normally when I go out with friends or on a date, I meet them at the location. In fact, my ex may be the last person that's been in my house, and he's two states over.

I head back into the living room feeling scared and listening for any strange sounds. Again, only the sounds of the hurricane can be heard as it seems to have gotten more intense outside. It should be starting to ease up at any moment. It'll keep raining, but this should be the worst part of the storm.

As freaked as I am at the moment, the idea to just leave does seem appealing. To leave to protect myself against whatever may be here, let it be a crazy bastard, or some old god. After all, I have a friend that lives a couple of streets over that wouldn't mind me staying with them under the circumstances. Hell, she might get mad if I don't leave once she finds out I think someone is here.

But looking out the front window puts an end to that idea very fast. That wind is really blowing. It has to be at least 60 mph judging by the way the tree branches whip around. It would be a fight to stay upright to her house. Not to mention all the debris flying around. If I go outside I would get beaned in the head by something. Probably impaled.

"Why are you so scared Becky?" I say in my head. I checked everywhere and there's no one here. It's safe. I'm alone. And to be scared of a toilet paper roll is the dumbest thing I can think to be scared of.

What I'm really scared of is that crazy old lady. She freaked me out more than I want to admit. Or am I? Maybe the hurricane is what is really freaking me out. Like many of my neighbors, I decided to stick it out and not leave because we weren't supposed to get the worst of the hurricane. Sure, there will be damage, but nothing too serious. But now I'm pretty sure the hurricane changed paths or something as this storm is anything but mild. The lightening alone is getting so frequent that it looks like daytime from all the strikes.