A Welcome into Darkness

Undead Rising

As tired as he was, he could not shake the terror that overwhelmed him. Sitting there staring at his book shelf he could not help but wonder nightmare he walked into. His hands were shaking, his legs kept pumping up and down as if he were running, and sweat poured from his forehead. What was this madness he fathomed? Book after book based on all his previous adventures he read, The Time Machine, Frankenstein, Dracula... the list continued. His hand gripped the edge of his chair as he heard the scratching once again. It came from the other room, the sound of nails upon wood. He closed his eyes once again shutting out the dim light of the lamp. His head slumped back and his eyes rolled open to look at the rainy afternoon. What was this horror he unleashed?

He stood up, walked over to the wall, and pressed his ear against the plaster. The moaning carried on, the scratching continued. He could his sister in pure agony. He shut his eyes only to see those red oculars staring back at him from the night before. The hunched back, the dark silhouette, the menacing breathing. It had gone after the one he cared about most. Now it seemed this figure had placed something upon his sister. Some type of curse, a disease. She had been drained this morning as she refused to come out of her room. Every once and a while he heard her call out into the darkness some gibberish.

He gained enough courage to enter her room. The door swung open slowly. The house had been eerily cold, her room especially. The putrid smell of decay overwhelmed him as he noticed his sister lying on her daybed, huffing and puffing. He wanted to speak her name, but he feared that the moaning would return. Instead he stepped toward her silently, her heavy breathing cutting through the rancid odor. It had been coming from her. He looked down at his sibling, her pale face scrunched up buried deep into the pillow. The cold sweat beaded down her cheeks as he stared endlessly. Her eyes were closed, dark plush bags started to form under them. Her chest rose and fell with each passing breath. It was as if she was dying. The figure did this, he thought. The looming masquerade from the previous night. Her usual self was so vibrant and unique. Her jovial etiquette was no more, replaced by some depressing force.

He gathered his strength to turn her head to the side to notice a gash on the side of her neck. Two distinct marks close to her jugular. He gasped lightly catching his breath. He had to make sure he did not wake her. Pretty soon the moaning will start again, and her fingers would scratch the wooden pillars of her daybed. He had never seen anything like this. What could take life? Something, or someone had been in her room last night and made her this way. She lay there completely helpless, with all life wasted away into frivolous thought. His eyes closed and he spoke the Lord's prayer to himself hoping whatever solace there was would find her.

He left the room only to walk downstairs into the kitchen. Opening the fridge he poured himself a glass of orange juice. He needed something with sugar to pick up his spirits. The house remained gloomy with barely any lights on. No one was home except for him and his sickly sister. He went to the bay window and peeked outside. The wind howled and the rain tumbled down. The grayish scene danced before him as the storm refused to settle down. There in the backyard was the tree they had played on, with a single swing hanging from a strong branch. Countless days were spent where he had swung his sister when she was just a child. She forced him to push faster and higher. She would laugh and squeal with delight, her smile broadening. All of it seemed like yesterday when they would run through the sprinklers with their swimming suits on. Or they would get out the Slip n' Slide and see how far they could go before the latex mat ended. Now the haunting day took over as he stared at the branch with the swing. The wooden branch was so strong. It had so many memories, so many good ones. They would climb up the tree, sit on the branch, and they would laugh. The solid branch held both of them. The branch held the weight. It had so much weight. It was strong, like the bond between them. So much weight, so much power, he thought.