Resurrection

Chapter 11 : Whispers in the Dark

Sleep was almost impossible. I could not stop shifting under my blankets before my inevitable awakening. Images of the bullmastiff flashed in my mind, filtering over with a wicked redness that revealed every gaping wound. I had caused that. I had triggered off this evil act and it was now my turn to face the music. Sure it was vicious, and may have tried to kill me, but seeing the man who would be Adam smashing the rock over and over again meant that this was no righteous kill. This was rather the stepping stone on a pathway to my own private hellish universe.

My mouth was incredibly dry, the coarse cracked lips desperately seeking a glass of H20. I flicked on a light, ignoring David's light snoring, and ventured into the kitchen. I poured myself some water but couldn't help feel the cold damp swirl around my neck and I could see the halogen lamps begin to flicker, rhythmically and ominously.

The whole thing seemed like a scene from a supernatural horror film, except this time there was no creepy girl climbing out of a television or springing from a wardrobe. Coincidence breeds cynicism and the over-justification of reality. Any mere realism was suddenly cut short by the pulse of kinetic energy crackling behind my back and this sudden force that pushed against me. I was bowled over by this anomaly and started to tumble down the stairwell. I desperately lunged out with my right hand and clawed at the timber rail, cutting my travel down the stairway in half.

See you soon.

I tried to shake it off. I put down the statement as my own subconscious trying to remember these words as a quote I'd overheard somewhere along the line, but I was drawing a blank. It felt like the dark passenger, though a powerful incarnation of it. This didn't feel like my subconscious: more like a secret friend with a demonic streak.

I climbed back in bed to reattempt the famous rip van winkle impersonation but dark images swirling around provided no peace. Out of sheer exhaustion and hours trying, I managed to finally drift off.

My dreams were becoming darker- this time the massacre involved more people, with some of their faces revealing black scorched eyeballs. Some stared at me vacantly while I pierced their insides; others stared at me with a wicked grin during the same torture. Now there were dogs involved and the body count kept stacking up higher.