The Grounds Keeper

Chapter 5 The Horror Wore Black

Chapter 5: The Horror Wore Black

Eathon woke with a start, certain he'd only been asleep a few minutes. He sat up in bed, groggy but surprisingly fine. Tentatively, he bent his once-shattered leg — and found it fully healed.

He laughed out loud in disbelief.

An injury like that should've taken nearly a year of surgery and physio — and even then, the leg would've never been the same. But it felt stronger than before. Even the dull ache from climbing five hundred flights of stairs was gone.

He checked his student ID. 5:00 p.m. Same day.

Only five hours had passed.

He jumped off the bed with a stunned laugh, hopping on the once-broken leg. No pain. No weakness. Even his robe — which had been soaked in blood and shredded — was pristine, clean, and pressed. Self-repairing, apparently.

He walked out of the healing chamber, materializing back in the infirmary, lying atop one of the standard beds in the quiet hall.

But just as he went to get up, something changed.

His body wouldn't move.

A tremor, soft at first, passed through him. Then a high-pitched hum — like the scream of glass under pressure — rose from somewhere to his right. He strained to turn his head, but it was like his neck had turned to steel.

Then, from the corridor, came a figure.

She was dressed in black. A long trench coat fluttered around her as if air itself refused to touch her. Her very presence pressed down on the world. The closer she came, the heavier the atmosphere became.

Eathon felt the mattress sink beneath him, the springs groaning. The pressure wrapped around his body, squeezing his organs like invisible hands. His eyes ached. His jaw locked so tight he felt pain shoot into his temples.

Then he saw her face.

She wasn't a man at all. She was tall — terrifyingly so — her silver hair wild and shimmering in the sunset light. She reached the first beds, and with a harsh, metallic screech, they collapsed inward — compressed like crushed soda cans. Feathers filled the air in slow motion, like snow falling through a dream.

Eathon's stomach churned. His organs compressed tighter. His jaw felt like it might snap.

The stained-glass windows exploded behind her, launching thousands of shimmering glass shards into the air — but they didn't fall. They hovered, suspended in the air like a storm paused in time.

Her purple eyes were streaked with flecks of silver, glowing like stars inside a galaxy. Her skin was pale as death, faint purple veins pulsing beneath nearly translucent flesh. Lips blue. Expression detached. Disgusted.

Eathon wanted to scream, but his mouth wouldn't open. His teeth clenched tighter — far beyond what muscles should allow. He felt them sink into his own gums, blood flooding his mouth. The pain in his joints was white-hot, his bones grinding as pressure pushed deeper into his frame.

And still she hovered closer.

She didn't walk. She floated, inches above the ground. Her limbs stretched long and gaunt, clad in segmented blackened steel armor shaped like dragon scales. A dark breastplate gleamed over a fitted black shirt, its centerpiece designed to mimic a human spine. Her shoulder pads bristled with sharp, cruel spikes.

She stretched her arms wide, black claws extended like a predator welcoming prey.

Eathon's vision shook. His eyes burned. He couldn't blink. Couldn't move. She wanted him to watch — to feel her power. She could crush him with a thought... and wanted him to know it.

Then, the pain reached its peak.

His eardrums imploded. Blood burst from both ears.

And just like that — the pressure disappeared.

But his body was still locked in place.

Through blurred eyes and streaming tears, he saw another figure enter the room. His back was turned. Unkempt hair. Simple jeans and a white shirt. Yet even from behind, he radiated power.

The woman scoffed.

In a flash of black, she vanished.

The man turned.

Where his face should've been was a cross-shaped scar. His eyes were empty, dull. His mouth curled into a humorless grin, revealing sharp, inhuman teeth.

He said something — Eathon couldn't hear the words — then reached into his pocket, pulled out what looked like a zipper pull from a jacket, and slotted it into the air.

He unzipped a glowing portal, stepped through, and zipped it closed behind him.

The silence left behind was deafening.

And then the pain hit.

Eathon howled. Finally.

A rush of footsteps came thundering in. Michelle led the charge, her eyes wide.

"You four — hold him down! Now!"

Strong hands pinned him to the bed as he thrashed in agony. Michelle pulled a syringe from her coat, drove it into his neck with clinical precision, and within seconds, the world faded.

The pain receded.

Darkness took him.