Where You Reside
Posted on Tuesday, August 22 @ 10:28:03 EDT by larry |
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 biggizmo54 writes "Where you reside, there are shadows with mysteries and secrets. Behind any piece of furnishings, and around any corner, you may even find them hidden within your cloakroom. When you fetch your evening frock...or retrieve that bumble shoot to ward off the drizzle which will be falling in the dark foggy night.
There seems to be an exhilarating rush of fear that sets your blood cold, because at that moment when you reached for this particular item...there was a shuffling noise within the dark corner of that tiny room.
You step back and ***** your head to the slight, whilst straining your wandering eyes, to see what it might be. Hmmm! Do you really wish to see this mysterious thing within? Quickly, reaching for the item within...you simultaneously slam the door. You turn away, but stop short, and take a fleeting glance back. The door is open! Your heart pounds! You feel the veins in your neck throb to pump blood through your body. Suddenly, the adrenaline has fused your mind and nerves together for that athletic burst of energy to escape.
You reach the door in the foyer, and looking back one last time, you see it was merely your imagination. The door is truly latched shut.
You chuckle to yourself and take a sigh of relief. This in itself turns to a side splitting burst of maniacal laughter. Collapsing on the stoop, you rest to resume your composure. Silly, was it not?
Last Thursday you had a similar incident. You may be asking yourself; ‘’am I going daft?’
The stroll to the members club was uneventful. You decided not to share your menial experiences with the other club brothers. Let another share their boorish tales of the week.
You sip the brandy as if it was too hot, and Oliver decides to quiz your thoughts.
“”Henry, you appear to be disdained this night. “Is there something you wish to share?, he asks.
No, Oliver. Quite the contrary, if I might say.
You finish your brandy, observing the raised eyebrows around the study, and excuse yourself.
I am dreadfully sorry, my friends. I seem to be poor company this evening. I believe I will take my leave, and retire for the night.
London Bridge was within a walking distance, so, Henry decided to treat himself to a further stroll before returning home. This was but a few hundred meters out of the way, and the foggy mist felt refreshing. Not like the stuffy old study with the stench from decades of stale cigars.
A distant figure appears from the mist, and his footsteps fall slower than a shuffle. There goes that imagination again, he muses. The figure appears smallish and somewhat feminine. The attire is not for a proper woman or lady. More, she seems to be from the alleys of ill repute, and not heavily clad for the night chill.
Evnin, gov. Might ye be in need of some compny?
Sorry, not tonight. Or any other night for that matter.
What is this all bout, gov.? Ye not care for the ladies, aye?
Not your sort, I am sure.
To that, she turns and struts across the cobbles toward the district.
Feeling relieved to be alone on his walk, Henry strides without much thought to his true surroundings. The stoop seems utterly steep, and Henry was quite fatigued by the time he arrived at his flat.
Pulling his key from his vest pocket proved senseless, as he noticed even while fumbling for the key, the door was ajar.
He was certain he had secured the door before he left.
Not so, he remembers. In his fit of laughter, he had walked away fully content that his imagination had gotten the better of him.
Frightfully cold in here, he says to himself. Unusually cold!
The gas must be out. He fumbles around in the darkened entry for the battery torch. The sudden flood of light caused him to flinch.
What is this? Upon the runner through the foyer was a sheer black head veil. He reaches for it. Who is here? He demands.
A whispering movement through the study brings his torch about instinctively. There in the corner by the balcony drapes was a shadow. This shadow should not be there, he reasons. Who is there? What do you want? He continues.
Do ye not know me, gov? Do ye not truly know my sort? With that she seemed to hurl herself at him from across the room. At an incredible speed and strength she was upon him within half a blink.
Her touch was that of ice. Henry felt the muscles in his arms being crushed like overripe bananas around his bones. The immense pain as his bones were crushed within her talon-like fingers. Her eyes seemed to glow from a greenish yellow to blood red and back again.
My sort, we are not so indifferent over whom we chose as compny, gov. This night, you will learn to taste before you judge your pleasure.
She sank her hideously long teeth deep into his neck. All the while she seemed to be humming a familiar melody as she drank from his motionless body. She releases her grasp from his arms and wraps her leathery wings around his body. The two float above the floor and appear to be in some sort of waltz. She stops short of his dying heartbeat.
Now, come with me and taste the night. Forever your shadows will not follow you, for you in all reality have become a shadow yourself.
Fear not the dark...for the darkness belongs to us. Our darkness shall be our light...and the light will bring upon us sleep. We shall drink together...and feed from the fears of mortals. Together, we will rebuild the night with our sort.
Henry stood straight up and screamed as he felt the transformation within his body. More fear than any that could be described all welled up within one flood of terror, he thought...Lucifer, himself just came into his body and ripped out his soul.
Alone in the darkness, there is a shadow which awaits new guests to entertain. Oliver will wonder of his whereabouts. It is members night, and for the first time in 23 years, Henry has not made the roll call.
Footsteps upon the stoop...
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Average Score: 5
Votes: 3
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