Remnant Book 1

Chapter 9

The red illuminated light of the digital clock flashes 1:15 a.m.

I've been twisting and turning uncomfortably on the bed for the last hour terrorized by every sound in the room that is thankfully located next to Cyrus. I try keeping myself awake, but the black engulfing darkness and the slow steady rhythm of the dripping restroom faucet hypnotizes me. Everything starts to fade as my eyelids grow heavy, and sleep beckons me even though I wrestle my way to stay alert.

Eventually I lose the fight, and a void of emptiness wraps me in its blanket.

I am in bed when it surrounds me, a huge black figure leans in close smelling my hair. I can see its heavy breath on my neck as I sleep. It begins stroking the back of my head, but I can't move or scream from my position afar. Just like my previous images with Cyrus, I can see myself as if through a shop glass window. I want desperately to reach out, but my feet are glued to the floor unable to move. I feel trapped and vulnerable.

Terror makes it impossible to breathe or swallow when I see its long skinny fingers reach for the covers. I yell, but not a word can escape my lips. I begin clawing at my throat hoping to hear the sound echo in the empty room.

Nothing!

The shiny red numbers burn bright on the clock showing 4:43 a.m. and the ominous glow appears to blaze the room as my fear intensifies. When I see the cloak-like shadow reach for my neck with both of its hands, I try to sense what it wants. Forcefully, I push myself into the residence of its mind as it hovers above me. My energy focuses on the emotions of my target, and I feel it.

Rage. Loathing. Malevolence. The devastating madness it inhabits is everywhere inside lashing out like fireworks wanting to break free. I have never experienced death or understood the process of breaking free from the living, but this thing I feel, is not living.

The essence crouching monstrously in the dark is lost in death.

The figure stops its sluggish descent when it recognizes my trespass into its vicious thoughts. A foul odor emerges from where it stands, and it begins to reluctantly turn its head, giving me a glimpse of its ghastly looking features.

It is the deceased man from the diner! He is outraged when he turns to give me his full attention. I can feel it, sense its venomous emotions burrow deep into mine to feed my distress. He looks down to my sleeping body on the bed and back to where I stand in confusion.

That makes two of us.

A grotesque sneer appears on its face as it lifts its hands ready to slam them down to where I sleep defenseless. The horror of the damage it can render triggers a terrible anxiety that makes me lose control. I lash out kicking and screaming not caring what I hit or what can happen if I get near him. Then as if transported, I am back in my bed fighting against some deadly corpse.

"No!!!" I yell! Somehow, I have found the strength to release the sound that has been lodged in my throat.

"No! No! Stop!" I can't stop the screams.

It is then that a terrible noise erupts from the doorway causing the walls to tremor. It is as if an explosion has blown apart the room, and the deafening outburst shakes the whole bed.

A blood curling roar erupts from a familiar voice, "Raven!"

Somehow, I am trapped in the sheets battling my way out of them. They are yanked off with such effort that I fly. It seems like forever when I pummel to the floor landing on my back for the second time in the last twenty-four hours. The wind is knocked out of me that I can't breathe. My attempts at rolling onto my side in search of oxygen seem futile. Everything hurts! I feel broken. Everywhere!