Bleak
Prologue
“A Welsh court today returned a verdict of “not guilty” in the case of the Crown vs Tobias Constance. A self-confessed stalker, Mr. Constance was arrested last year for the murder of seventeen-year-old Rebecca Minefold near Lanbedr after police CCTV identified him as the last person to see the victim alive. Hearing both sides of the case, Judge Mary Limpson said the evidence presented by the prosecution fell ‘far below the threshold’ of what a reasonable court could convict on. Speaking outside the court today, Mr. Constance’s lawyer spoke on behalf of his client, expressing sincere gratitude to the courts…”
Angela switched the television off, her frail hand shook as it lifted the cigarette to her pursed lips, and tears washed mascara down her wrinkled face. Keeping the fag in her mouth, she threw the control at the television, in anger. Seventeen years! You protect their innocence, love them, care for them, encourage them, and set them free, only for someone to cut them down before they even get going. What sort of God allows that to happen? She knew what type of God and it wasn’t one that she would follow.
She stood, grabbed her walking stick and moved from the lounge into the hall where she shuffled its length until she reached the last door at the end. She turned the key in the lock, sliding the deadbolt back, and grabbed the handle, pushing it open.
Inside the cool air enveloped her as she stepped through into a dark garage full of packed, cardboard boxes and closed the door behind her. She pulled her dressing gown tight around her and moved into the center of the room where a circle of protection and a pentagon had been chalked on the floor. Taking her lighter from the front pocket of her gown, she lit the black candles placed deliberately around the room and then walked over to a makeshift altar where she picked up an old book. She moved back over to the circle and sat herself down, stubbing her cigarette out on the concrete floor.
She dug out her glasses from the front of her gown and opened the book at a bookmarked page, her hands shaking intensely. She’d dabbled, had dabbled a lot, but always for good and she’d never, ever done what she was about to do now, something she would normally have left for the dark souls of this Earth. She knew now, though, there was no other choice. In the dim light of the black candles, she began to chant, carefully reading the words from the book, her uttered words floating in the air, connecting, building, forming an unseen gateway and it wasn’t long before the candles flickered.
“Is any body there?”
A scratching sound like a rat clawing at a cardboard box reached her ears, coming from an empty corner. She watched for a moment, but nothing moved. She turned back to the book and continued, using her finger to follow the words so that she didn’t lose her place. A box on top of a large pile tilted up on its own accord, slowly lifting until it was perfectly pivoted on the very edge of the corner, stopping for a moment before then rolling over and falling down onto the floor with a crash. A howl like a fighting cat reached her ears as shadows began to flitter across the walls, shapes of things she didn’t recognise. Freaked out, she immediately closed the book, slamming it shut with a bang, and tried to get to her feet but a heavy presence filled the room, something she could sense, pushing down on her shoulders, her head, her soul.
What had she done?! Her shaking increased uncontrollably, unable to move, feeling a tickle under her nose, she brought two fingers to her nostrils and felt the stickiness of blood.
“I know why you summon me to this dank place?” said a female voice from behind her, its tone aged and cruel. Angela shook, terrified at her ordeal, blood now running freely from her nose.
“You want to make a deal, don’t you?”
Angela began to cry, tears appearing at the corners of her eyes, thinking of her little Becky. She nodded. She felt tears running from the corners of her eye, she dabbed them away with her sleeve, only to then see it wiped with more blood. Her vision swam.
A guttural laugh filled the room.
“Well? I’m listening.”
She didn’t want to do it. She tried to get up, tried to escape, but unseen hands held her, she even tried to scream but nothing but a muffled noise escaped her withered lips. She realised then her Circle of Protection had failed.
“Speak!”
She began to cry some more.
“No,” she whimpered shaking her head briskly, closing her eyes tightly as though she could hide away from whatever was around her. A small thud reached her ears and she opened her eyes in horror. A candle had fallen over and now purposefully rolled towards some of the boxes, its flame licking the cardboard gratifyingly like a lover’s tongue.
“Tell me what your deal was or burn alive.”
Now machine-gun sobs emitted from her lips, spittle spraying across the book in front of her.
“I wanted revenge for the murder of my daughter by Tobias Constance.”
“A big ask…and what did you offer in return?”
She spluttered and hesitated.
“What!”
“I…I…I was going to offer you my soul, but….”
Malicious laughter filled the room.
“Deal.”
“No, I wasn’t…!!”
It was too late. Immediately Angela’s eyes rolled up into her head and her body began to shake causing her to fall backwards, the book falling to the floor. At first, she felt an odd sensation in her neck as though her entire nervous system wanted to fire, to move suddenly, to bolt, before then an excruciating pain radiated throughout her causing her to rollover into the foetal position and scream. Sounds filled her mind as though insects were inside chewing away at her brain; the crunching and tearing was loud and inescapable. Her reality began to distort, the things she knew so certainly now seemed fragile and breakable, her understanding of who she was became obscured and lost, a sense of complete illogic encapsulated her mind. She shook violently on the floor, her body flailing wildly, her head smashing against the concrete floor. She felt her hands being bitten, chewed at by something, the pain not dissipating when she snatched her hands away. She became detached from herself, her morals faded, nothing but her animalistic id remained, her raw instincts.
Without any notice, she was detached from her body, floating up, seeing with eyes but not her own. The room below her was now burning furiously, filled with spiritual creatures she’d never even dared to dream of, eating her away, chewing on her, all laughing as they consumed her being and she realised to her horror it wasn’t her body that was being eaten, it was her soul.
There in the middle of the furnace beneath her, she saw her body, her head now swollen beyond recognition, the eyes milky, the body distended out of all proportion, boils and pustules erupting, the arms had lengthened, her jaw now reached from forehead to chin. Yet, all that paled to the evil she saw in that face. She screamed, not knowing how she’d ended up in this position, and as she watched that witch-like thing stand and shuffle out of the garage, her soul faded from existence.
Take me to Chapter One…
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