Paranormal

Returning The Scarlet

I woke up in my bed with a pounding headache. My forehead was covered in cold sweat and there was a thin line of dried drool trailing from the corner of my lips. It was like a drum was being violently pounded behind my eyes. My stomach was doing flips. There was a lump on the back of my head and my neck ached. It was almost as if I'd fallen and hit my head on something. Like my living room floor.

It wasn't a dream.

My eyes shot open, but I had to close them right away. My curtains were wide open and summer light was pouring in through the window. I scrunched up my nose and slowly began opening my eyes once more, taking the light slowly. When my eyes finally adjusted, I leaned forward.

The nausea quickly was subdued and my senses returned full blast.

Something was on my desk; a rose with petals the color of the night, tinged ever so slightly with a dark dried-blood color. The stem was a dark forest green with scarlet-tipped thorns protruding from it. It would have been gorgeous, had I not known that it hadn't been there when I went to sleep.

I slowly slid out of bed, my eyes never leaving the bloom. Carefully, I moved towards it. I slowly picked it up by the stem, my fingers carefully lacing themselves between the thorns. As I raised it up, the stem arched slightly. A single, tiny red droplet of liquid streaked from between the petals. I was too shocked to even drop the rose. I just stood there and watched it fall.

It trailed down the stems and onto my pointer finger. As it flowed down the length of my hand, I became aware of how... unnatural it's path was. It took a sharp turn into the palm of my hand, then completely stopped on a rough part of my palm; a cut. The same cut I'd received while prying open the tiny door in the basement.

I tilted my hand back and forth, the rose still in my hand. The liquid stayed in place, covering only the cut. It was almost as if it belonged on it. Or in it.

Is this my blood?

The thought thoroughly chilled me. How could It have gotten my blood? Had It somehow got it when I pried open it's door? The Hell Gate, I believe It called it. What was a Hell Gate, anyways? Was it actually a gate to Hell? That would mean I had my own little piece of Hell down in my basement.

Lovely thought.

I took a tissue and wiped it off. The tissue suddenly became white hot, and I dropped it on the spot. My fingertips were bright red from the heat and my breathing had quickened and deepened. There was smoke, unnaturally black smoke, coming from inside the tissue. How? And then the rose too began to smoke. Night petals into night smoke.

My eyes began to water. What was It doing, turning my own blood into evil-looking smoke? And the rose? Well, It was obviously trying to scare me. It was doing a pretty good freakin' job.

I collapsed on the floor, the tears finally coming. They streaked down my cheeks, stinging my eyes painfully. The rose and tissue were both completely dissolved after a few minutes. The black smoke lingered, slowly drifting around me.

Get away from me!

It slowly evaporated into nothingness by the sides of my head. I suddenly felt sick again, but much, much worse. The happy memories in my life blurred and all the bad ones resurfaced and flashed violently in front of me.

Memories of Dad.