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A Bold Step
They caused it. You were not wrong. The man had it coming.
Annabel folded her hands together. She could still hear the voice of the figure in her head. She could still hear the priest screaming out in pain as she went murderously insane on him. She was looking at herself on top of the priest, an insane child, bringing the knife down again and again on the priest till his body was just one bloody mess.She stabbed the priest so much that she could not recognize his face. The smirk was gone; the authoritative stance disappeared. The last thing she had seen of the face was of unbelief and fear. The priest had looked at her as if she was a monster.“I am a monster,” she mumbled.No.“I am.”You are not.“Who are you?!”She was in a museum, which was closed by the looks of it. Just behind the entrance. She sat on the ground, allowing her gown to wipe the dirt on the floor.The voice in her head had disappeared. Frightened, she looked about thRelated chapters
Death's Day Little Demons Under The Bed
Little demons under the bed. That was exactly what little Andrew hated. And there were a lot of them.“Goodnight, little one,” his father said, smiling at him.They were in his room. He wanted his dad to keep staying there, but he knew the man would leave his room soon. That was when they usually came. The monsters that shuffled around under his bed. They would play and roll about waiting for when his legs would mistakenly extend out of the bed, then they would grab his legs and pull him under.Andrew was eight, and he believed under the bed was a portal of some sort. If he ever went under there at night, he would find himself in the land of the monsters. He only dreamt about these monsters. There were those with red, glinting eyes and arms longer than their legs. There were those whose hands were blades, who felt rather than saw him. They had no eyes. The only thing on their face a mouth.The descriptions of these monsters were so vivid in hi
Death's Day This Little Light
He is your uncle’s son. Jason heard the voice in his head, as the boy raced out of the room. He could feel the presence of some other creatures in the room. Red-eyed, malevolent creatures. They had the same hate in his heart that he had for this house. This was where the process of his exile had begun, where he was made the dog and given a bad name. The flash that brought him here had all happened too fast. One moment, Jason was in the holiday house with his brothers, the next he was in their old house, hanging by the window and staring into a room. At first, he was terrified. He was just there, standing on air, and gravity was useless. Then he saw the room into which he stared into. It belonged to his uncle’s first and only son, Tommy. Tommy was not the best friend anyone could have, but he was not the terrible person his dad was either. He drew himself to the window ledge and held it for fear of gravity suddenly switching back on and leaving him
Death's Day Hell Hath No Fury
“Forgive me, father, for I have sinned,” the man said, leaning back against the seat in the box. On the other side, he could hear the father’s deep breathing. The priest knew the sound of his voice. Always, he would come here to confess his sins. And always, when he went out, these sins drew him back in. The sin of defilement, of both his body and that of others. He was tired of it. “Speak, son,” the priest replied. The man, Conrad, sighed. His lips were heavy, laden with the imminent confession of a sin that he was ashamed of, a sin that he was guilty of. This sin tormented him, made him feel less of himself, filthy, dirty, and without salvation. But the word if God stood sure. That was his only saving grace. If he confessed his sins and forsook them, he would be forgiven. “I confess my sins every time I get the chance,” he began. “Still, every day, I go out and I am faced with these sins once again. I am tired
Death's Day Footsteps in The Dark
The day passed slowly, and Jason sat on the bed, staring dully at his brothers. They still could not see him or feel him, or even sense him. They did not talk about him, but he could see in the tenseness in their bodies that they knew something was wrong. It was almost a whole day since Jason was gone, and he was not yet back, not according to his brothers anyway. “Do you think he is okay?” Jack asked. His voice broke Jason’s heart. The twins were not yet supposed to be on their own. The three of them were not yet supposed to be on their own. Nothing that was happening here was normal. Not the ascian, not his own disappearance, not the eerie howling of the wind outside, which was making the twins even more frightened. They had not left the room since he got there. You want to talk to them, don’t you? The voice was annoying, mocking him. He knew there was nothing he could do to get back at the owner of the voice. Whoever it was, was far more powerful than anyt
Death's Day PROLOGUE: LONG, LONG NIGHT
The shadows melted into one another as he walked along the pathway, swimming like entrails, in and out of themselves. There was a way the being walked, for he was not exactly a man; he glided along the road, his feet barely touching the ground. There was gloom in his movement, measured gloom as if he had a purpose to bring exactly that wherever he went. Perhaps his human nature or the lack of it would have been seen had it been his face was not covered with the hood of an old, dark cloak. He was silent. Presently, he stopped before a railway track and waited. The wind gathered momentum and pulled the trees behind him the way a passionate lover pulls the hair of his partner in the heat of a sexual moment.In the distance, far from where he stood, the sound of a train crawling along the railway could be heard, a millipede on all legs.“Do you think she will be happy to see us?” Greg asked the elderly woman by his side. The woman ha
Death's Day Jason
If there was one thing Jason hated in his life, it was suffering and poverty. Most of the time he was tempted to go to his parents’ grave to dig them out; he had only one question in his mind for them: why give birth to children you knew fully well you could not take of? It burned in his mind, ate him up in his dreams, this question. His waking moments were filled with worry. Living in Daltom, a town that seemed to be in a perpetual cycle of poverty and the dreams of breaking out of it was hell. It was like there was a blanket pulled over his head, a blanket that kept him static in life, and for good reason: he had three brothers he had to take care of and they all looked up to him as if he was the one that had sex with their mother. Once he had told Harry, his friend and partner at the eatery where he worked, “how can people not think before they have sex? What exactly is on their mind?” But his friend would not buy into his ideology. “Would yo
Death's Day It Begins
Jason was in the room allocated to him and his siblings, wondering what to do while his uncle continued ranting just outside the room. Jason knew how it often ended. Daltom had a strong, superstitious community, and since both of his parents died, the locals wanted nothing to do with his. His eyes, one blue, and the other a light brown, was part of the reason he was seen as a wierdo.“I’m calling the cops on you, boy!” he screamed. “I’m calling the cops on you for assault. You dare hit me.”People gathered in sympathy. They screamed at the fresh wounds on his face where Jason had left the mark of his rage.“Damn, Mr. Michael, you’ve got bruises all over your face. Who did this to you?” It was the fat man Jason rarely greeted, the man whose eyes would always follow him whenever he returned from work. He recognized the voice and hated it.“Tha
Death's Day The Grim Courting
There was so much hate in Annabel’s eyes as she watched the priest leading her family in prayer. His eyes were shut, his face a cherubic expression of worship and holiness, while his hands were raised to the sky. He was her nightmare, but she was still too afraid to narrate this particular nightmare to her parents. Her parents and two brothers had their eyes shut too and were singing with their deep-throated. She hated the song and the singer.It was the expression in her mother’s face that she hated the most. It was that of trust and total surrender. She would never believe anything that she would say about this man, the priest, not when the cross was hung all over their houses at intervals. It was terrible, but her own family was afraid of her, of what she could do.Annabel shut her eyes and joined in the song; this was torture, but who would believe her if she told them their emblem of holiness was, in fact, the devil himself? She could imagine her
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