The Light of Death

The First Lighting

Bob Roberts was having a bad week.

First his girlfriend, Lisa, had dumped him, then his boss at the Worcestershire call centre had fired him for inappropriate internet usage. In other words he'd been watching gay porn in the middle of his shift. Someone had reported him and he'd faced the consequences. On top of that, his beagle Winston died. He'd had to be put down the day before.

It was the stresses of the week that Bob was thinking about as he made his way out the front doors of the hotel he'd been staying at since Lisa ditched him. It was about 1 am, and a steady drizzle was falling, soaking Bob's gradually thinning black hair as he made his way out to the car. His parents had told him that he could stay with them until he got back on his feet, as long as he contributed to the rent. Fair enough. Bob needed a place to stay. 

It was only when Bob reached his black Ford F-150 and began opening the door that he heard the noise.

It came on quietly at first, repeating itself, seeming to grow louder each time. It was almost like a metallic clanging. Bob spun around, his heart racing, unsure of what to do. Should he flee? His Irish blood told him he should not flee, that he should confront the problem. As his parents once said, "a wise man never ran from the problem". They were right, he guessed. His chest aching with nerves, Bob scanned the underbrush that lined the parking lot on its opposite side, his eyes and ears alert for any more sound. The clanging had stopped. Confused now, Bob darted around the truck and began cautiously approaching the bushes.

"H-hello?" he stammered, his anxiety showing clearly now in his voice. He crouched down, eyes glued on the bushes, not making a sound.

Suddenly, the clanging started back up again, louder than before, and Bob yelped in terror and whipped around again just in time to come face to face with a towering, thin shape. But that's all he saw, because a moment later, a blinding light flashed, and excruciating pain lanced across his neck. 

Everything went dark, and Bob Roberts was dead.