Prologue
My name is inconsequential but if you must call me something then call me Ishmael. I know that is a famous first name from the first line of a novel that was written much better than this one will most likely be. But you see, this is not written for the same reason. I sit down in front of my computer to write down a story that is beyond belief, but very much true. I bear no part in the story, but merely act as the vessel by which it is to be conveyed to the masses. I do personally witness the events at the end of this story, but the rest of it was shown to me, well that part you will have to wait for. I was instructed not to give any information any faster than the story unfolding will yield.
It was in the summer of my fortieth year. All was quiet in the small town of Swanton Vermont, as was typical for the middle of the night in the first week of June. The days were quite warm, and the nights cooled off nicely, making sleep very easy and comfortable to come by. Vermont, still being primarily rural was not given to late night revelers, or the sordid activities of gangs. Instead the denizens of the small towns that made up most of the map were the good, salt of the earth, early to bed, hard-working sort. Throughout most of the town the loudest thing to be heard was the rhythmic chirping of the crickets. There were the few businesses that worked three shifts, but even at those places, on this night all seemed calm and quiet. The air, heavy with humidity barely stirred, lending an oppressive feel to the night.
On the northern end of town was the high school. The school was a relic of the once "forward" thinking of the seventies. They had designed the school around an open classroom idea, with the thought that it would help the students share ideas. Thusly the school was built from several round sections or pods as they came to be known. This idea did not hold, and walls were later built between the classes. The school was built upon several hundred acres, and most of those were cultivated for athletic use. There were six baseball fields, a track, and two soccer fields. Surrounding the school was a small set of woods, and the soccer fields were bordered by these woods.
In the northern most field, there was something curious happening, yet it happened so slowly that to the passing glance it would have gone unnoticed. In a three-foot circle, the heavy dew that had settled upon the manicured grass started to glow ever so slightly. Over the next several hours that glow had slowly grown in intensity and then something started to take form, equally as slow. At the end of a six-hour period, just before sunrise the circle of light had vanished. The only remnant of the circle of light was that the grass within was bone dry as compared to the grass that was outside of the circle, which was as wet as if it had rained. At the very center of where the circle of light had once been, there now stood a man.
The man looked to be very old. He had a mess of long gray hair that went to his shoulders. Most of the details of his face were hidden by a great gray beard that had grown down to his groin. What was visible of the skin that made up his face was crisscrossed by deep wrinkles. He was clothed only in what looked like a night dress worn by people in the early part of the last century. There was little remarkable about this man, in fact if no one gave him more than a cursory look, they might mistake him for an escapee from a nursing home. However, his eyes were quite remarkable. They were a blue of such intensity that they were almost luminescent. They were warm and calming to look at, and put you instantly at ease.
He stood there for several minutes, breathing deeply of the cool morning air. Seeming to have come to a conclusion, he slowly spun around inside the now vanished circle in which he had formed. After a few spins he knelt down and tore several blades of grass out of the ground, brought them to his mouth and tasted them. He worked the grass around his mouth a few times, spat it out and stood erect. "I am not too late", he muttered to himself and started walking towards town.
YOU ARE READING
Demon Wind
HorrorThis is the story of an unlikely couple that are to bring about the birth of the new savior. The devil sends forth an army of demons to prevent the birth so that Hell can take over ruling the mortal plane. Follow Josh and Rachel as they attempt to e...