The Haunting

Necoromancy Senses Part III (Chapter Twenty One)

Chloe walked through the door, and hesitantly stilled. She was in a white place. There was nothing around her. Just the vast white emptiness. Then, slowly, color started to leach back into the world around her.

She was standing in a room, and her body was lying in front of her. The room seemed to be a hospital room. It was dirty, and there were bugs crawling on a blood-stained floor. Scalpels and bloody syringes were littered around, and there was a pungent odor in the air.

Her body was spattered with what looked to be drying blood, and she was wearing scrubs. Her hands were folded neatly on her chest, and her face was completely relaxed, as if she were sleeping.

She tried to take a step forward, but the instant she did, she was transported across the room. She looked confused for a second, before she shook it off. Obviously, she wasn’t allowed to do that.

Wait..., she thought. If I already finished the necromancy tests, then what power am I being tested for now?

She thought about it. Well, I’m only aware of one other power, really, and that’s Shamanism... and I know almost nothing about that. What could I possibly be tested for?

Then she sat and thought. She knew Astral Projecting. But how could they devise a quiz on just that? It made no sense. Maybe she would figure it out as time went on.

She stood again, and she noticed something odd. One of the syringes hovered above her body. She reached for it, and was sent to another corner of the room. The needle stuck in her arm, and she immediately felt the prick in her own arm. She looked down, and saw that she had started to bleed.

Then the syringe went limp, and hung out of her skin at an awkward angle. She felt the same sensations on her own arm, and hissed in pain. Chloe then saw all of the other instruments start to quiver, and move slowly towards her body. She panicked, and tried to move, and again was sent somewhere else in the room.

Then a scalpel had made it to her. It slowly sliced through the skin of her thigh, and she fell to her knees at the intense pain that hit her. Her thigh started to bleed, and she saw the area of her jeans around the cut slowly turn a terrible maroon color.

Oh, duh, I need to astral project.

Panic seeped in as another scalpel sliced through the skin of her waist. Another horrible stinging sensation, and warm blood seeped down Chloe. She had to do this. She concentrated hard, and focused intently on the patch of floor next to her body that she wanted to go to. More stinging on her stomach, more blood.

Chloe felt the panic knife through her focus, and she tried even harder. The cuts were starting to get dangerously close to the area of her throat. She tried to calm down, when she felt a very shallow cut made on her throat. A trickle of blood seeped from the wound, teasing her.

She was shaking. She just had to get to her body! She could die! She took a deep breath, and tried to quell the shaking. The tremors were getting slower, and she opened her eyes, assessing the damages made to her body. The scalpel was hovering playfully above her throat, playfully making dashes for her throat and then retreating.

She felt the panic stab her again, and another shallow cut was made along the expanse of her throat. She felt more drops of blood drop down her throat, and she gulped nervously. Then, five of the syringes plunged into her all at once. She felt the sting, and then the sensation of her skin being lifted from muscle and bone, as they flopped down.

She tried again, and when she reopened her eyes, not only had she moved forward a few feet, the rate at which the scalpel at her throat dived had decreased slightly. She stared in curiosity.