Book by: Cobber

Chapter 12: Chapter 12

Reads: 815

He found a small hammer and a heavy pipe that the Ames's must have left. And brought them upstairs to the bedroom. Ryan had dressed and was sitting on the bed.

"You don't think it will work?"

"No."

"Why not?" he asked as he tugged against the handle, hoping the tools would not be unnecessary.

"Because I can feel it, it's not meant to be opened."

"All doors are supposed to be opened."

"In due time, in due time." He shook his head at her drivel and picked up the pipe. Channeling the anger and frustration Preston brought the pipe smashing down on the handle.

There was a flash, an intense red flash that seemed to irradiate his skin and expose his innards like a concentrated burst from an x-ray machine. He felt a pop in the stump of his severed finger before he was thrown back against the bed.

His finger screamed in agony, an agony which raced down his arm, up his kneck, and out his mouth. It danced around the room before boomeranging back and augmenting the pain which was building in his finger.

Through the haze of pain and saw Ryan step forward and move towards the door. Red light flickered around the edges of the opening and through the cracks, like a tongue licking the door, slithering under the crack, maliciously, relentlessly, trying to escape and make it into the room.

Ryan raised her arms to gather the energy around her body. With supreme effort, he ignored the pain and jumped off the bed.

"No Ryan!" he screamed against the growing red light and the howling wind which seemed to have suddenly sprung from the closet. He grabbed her around the waist and she turned her head.

Her corneas rolled back behind the sockets and her body seemed to tense as the bands of the redness caressed her body. He heard her groan and she lifted her arm and effortlessly flung him back with violent force. He hit the wall and thought he felt something crack.

"Nooooo!" he screamed again through the pain. Ryan continued forward and the light shimmied down her body. Patterns danced and winked on her bare arms and legs, raising goose bumps. She slowly lifted off her T-shirt and pulled down her sweats to expose her entire body. It danced, up and down, light and hard, and she closed her eyes and let her head drop back. Preston saw the light, he could sense the possession it was taking of Ryan and he howled at her.

"Ryan, stop it, let it go!" He wasn't sure if it was concern for what she had done to him or his scream, but Ryan seemed paused. She trembled and her head rolled back.

"Ohhh," she groaned as she slowly lifted up her head. The red energy flew from her body like sap and stuck against the door. It dribbled down the wood and disappeared under the crack, back into the closet.

She collapsed onto the floor, beads of sweat rolling off her forehead and spattering on the wood. Preston painfully rotated his shoulder and tried to stand. The pain forced him back down. The last few days had not been physically beneficial to his body.

"Well, at least I'm still alive." Ryan did not say anything. Her body seemed to convulse and then she tried to stand. Her legs caved in and Preston hobbled over to her and helped her over the bed.

"That's the worst it's been."

"It's happened before." She nodded her head and began to sob again.

"Preston, something is happening to me." He tried to comfort her as best as he could but couldn't help but feel awkward. Anger and violence were natural, a mechanism to vent his rage that usually left exhausted yet fulfilled and relieved. Comforting was different and he felt clumsy. He didn't know what to say, and when he did talk, it sounded foolish and contrived even if he was sincere.

"I don't think it's you Ryan, it's the whole town. I think we need to get out of here." Whatever was happening to them was related to some phenomena in Wellow Falls.

"I don't know if I can."

"Why?"

"I've never consciously left a place before. It's always been during one of the dark spells. I don't ever remember leaving."

"Ryan, look at me, come on look at me." Their eyes locked and Preston willed his thoughts into her mind. She was beautiful. Beautiful and fragile at the same time. And also mysterious. There was side to her he still didn't know, and Preston sensed it was locked inside of that closet. "I don't care if you want to stay with me after we leave, but just come with me. Let whatever is happening here blow over and then we'll come back. Even just for a weekend."

"Preston, I hardly even know you."

"It's your decision, but I'm leaving." He thought of Martin in the quarry and at the cemetery, he thought of the door and the strange light, and realized he wanted to leave as soon as possible.

She looked perplexed and frightened and Preston said nothing. He wanted her to make the decision on her own. If he had decided to talk, he would have told her about how in two days she had reoriented his life. The burning anger was still raging within him, but it was confined and controlled. He had finally found someone as lost and alone and he was, and that had made all the difference. Even though the stump where his missing finger throbbed and his shoulder felt dislocated, he felt better than ever. For once, the rage had diminished.

She didn't say anything but put her arms around him and hugged for a moment before pullin away.

For a moment it looked like she wanted to say something. She stopped, reoriented her thoughts, and said.

"All right, let's get out of here." Preston thought she was going to say "I love you."

Submitted: October 23, 2006

Horror fantasy horror evil forces monarch