Summary

A woman is terrorized and ultimately killed by the ghosts of children who seek revenge for their deaths caused by the diamond mining industry, which is symbolized by the diamond necklace she wears.

Abstract

In a chilling horror story, a woman is awakened by scratching sounds at her bedroom door. Initially dismissing it as an animal, she investigates and encounters a ghostly boy with a bloodied finger, who points at her diamond necklace. As she dismisses the encounter as a hallucination, she discovers a gruesome message scratched in blood on her door, leading to a terrifying realization. The ghosts of children, victims of the diamond mining industry, return to violently reclaim the diamond, avenging their tragic deaths under a collapsed mine wall. The story culminates in a brutal attack, revealing the hidden cost of the woman's precious jewelry.

Opinions

The author suggests that the woman's diamond necklace is a symbol of the exploitation inherent in the diamond industry.
The ghostly children's actions imply a moral judgment against those who benefit from the suffering of others.
The story conveys a sense of horror not only from the supernatural elements but also from the real-world implications of the blood diamond trade.
The woman's initial denial and subsequent terror serve to highlight the stark contrast between her sheltered life and the harsh reality of the children's existence and death.
The narrative may be seen as a critique of consumer ignorance or indifference regarding the origins and human cost of luxury goods.

Scratches at the Bedroom Door

A short horror story

The tiny scratching sound at the bedroom door eased its way into the woman’s slumber, first piercing her dream then pulling her awake.

Her first reaction as her eyes cracked open was to reach instinctively to her neck to grip the large diamond dangling from its gold chain. Still safe and sound.

The incessant, little noise against the door traveled through the darkened bedroom, under the sheets, and straight into her spine. Gaining her bearing and courage in the dark, she grabbed her phone from the bedside table and flipped on its flashlight. The dim glow did not reach far but helped ease the tension.

The scratching stopped.

Her breathing deepened and her heartbeat bounced as she stared at the closed door through the grayness.

This is crazy. Probably an animal found its way in.

For the moment, that thought calmed her.

She climbed out of the bed while her newfound courage lasted and walked warily toward the door. She leaned her ear gingerly against it. Nothing. Just normal house sounds. The hum of the air conditioner. The spinning of the ceiling fan. Nothing out of the ordinary.

She cautiously turned the knob. Slowly — ever so slowly — she eased the door open. Just a crack at first. Still quiet.

Her pulse boomed as she pulled the door open and stepped through. She brought the phone’s light up and stifled a scream.

Almost close enough to touch, the light of the phone shined through a little boy. A tear streamed down his cheek clearing a lane of dirt over his dark skin. His fingertip, bloodied, dripped on the floor. His filthy clothes hung in tatters.

She could see the darkness of the rest of the room behind him. Through him. His unshod feet hovered slightly above the floor.

The boy raised his arm and pointed a dirt-crusted finger at her. As she gained a small bit of composure she thought he pointed at her face. Then she realized. He pointed directly at her necklace.

I don’t know how, but he wants to rob me.

Her hand trembled as she defensively reached up to grab the diamond and cover it with her hand.

Shivering like a hologram, the boy dropped his arm and pivoted toward the front door, gliding right through it and out of sight.

Still shaking, she stepped forward hesitantly and pointed her phone light at the floor where the boy had been a moment before. No blood or footprints on the carpet. No sign at all of anything or anyone.

Was I dreaming while awake?

She pondered that thought for a moment as cautiously inspected the room and the kitchen beyond. Her heart rate slowed from a gallop to a trot and finally back to a walk.

She marched back to the bedroom, convinced that she imagined the boy.

As the glow of light reached the bedroom, bloody, finger-scratched writing on the door made her knees collapse in fear.

BLOOOOOOD DIAMOND

Her piercing scream echoed in the deathly quiet room. Her phone slipped from her hand and landed face-side down on the floor. In desperation, she crawled to pick it up to call 911. Her quivering hands lifted the phone and the circle of light returned.

Then she saw them. All of them.

The boy had returned with a silent, bedraggled crew of children. Many completely covered in sandy sludge — each as shabby as the next.

Her eyes bulged in fear as she stared at them. At first, they eased toward her.

Then they pounced.

Gurgling blood replaced her frightened wails as the children ripped at her throat wildly to retrieve her precious diamond.

To them her shrieks meant nothing. They also knew pain. She would never know that this crew of young children died together under a collapsed pit mine wall while forced to dig for the diamond hanging from her neck.

Neither would her next-door neighbor, who lay fast asleep next to her husband, the huge diamond of her wedding ring shimmering in the moonlight.