CHAPTER ONE-HUNDRED-AND-THIRTY-TWO: SHATTERED

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Chapter One-Hundred-And-Thirty-Two: Shattered

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Chapter One-Hundred-And-Thirty-Two: Shattered

(Vecna's Curse)

***

Red lightning flashed over the rotting Creel house, revealing the flying monsters swarming across it. Rowan stood there, glaring at the warped version of this house, the spores of the Upside Down fluttering down, kissing her hair. Her eyes gravitated to the darkness of the attic window, a darkness that swallowed in what little light remained in the Upside Down, and she shivered as she felt something dark and malevolent radiate back.

Rowan pushed down her fear. She was dream-walking in the Upside Down, and this time, she wasn't going to stand in front of the infamous Murder House's evil dimensional twin.

This time, she was going to get some fucking answers.

Squaring her shoulders, Rowan muttered out loud, "Alright. Time to get moving."

Directing all her willpower into her feet, Rowan made to walk—away from the house, into the house, she didn't know and she didn't fucking care—but as always, her feet remained frozen to the decaying ground beneath her. Rowan gritted her teeth and tried to move them, but they remained stuck. Now, she tried to teleport, but she remained still in place. 

Rage burned through her, and Rowan screamed, "What do you fucking want!? Why can't I fucking move? What do you want with me you motherfucker!?"

Silence and the rumbling boom of thunder greeted her back. And then she heard it, a noise so quiet it was almost drowned out by the thunder.

A clock, ticking away, deep and ominous.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

"Rowan."

Rowan gasped, the spider-like, rasping voice shocking her out of her anger. She whirled around, but no source of the voice greeted her, only more of that ticking, before she heard it whisper again, "Rowan."

Rowan swallowed down her fear, schooled her face into a glare, and shouted, "Who the fuck are you? Who are you? WHO ARE YOU, YOU SON OF A MOTHERFUCKING BITCH!?"

Nothing responded, except for that incessant ticking. Then, the slow, chilling creak of a long-closed door opening as the front door swung open, darkness spilling out.

Welcoming the person that had now appeared on the porch, almost swallowed by the darkness, quiet sobs breaking the silence, shoulders shaking in fear.

Rowan jolted at the new development, of the door opening—and a new feeling overcoming her body.

Her paralysis was gone.

Rowan didn't waste a second, sprinting to the house, to the person that was still standing there that she could now see was a girl, vines creeping out and coiling around her ankles, red lightning illuminating blonde hair in a ponytail, something in her screaming to get to the girl over the droning of the clock.

Thunderstruck | Steve HarringtonWhere stories live. Discover now