Ancient Blood: The Fallen (2 page)

After what seemed a torture’s amount of time, fear riding hard the whole way that the creature of demise was skulking behind me, waiting, anticipating yet another chance for death, I finally exited out of the swamps into my back yard.

My body began to convulse, trembling uncontrollably as my muscles seized, rejecting the idea of going any further, and collapsing, I lay in a heap upon the grassy surface of my yard, unable for the moment to do anything to change the situation.

Eventually though, after a hard won battle with my muscles, I managed a kneeling position, then sucking in more air, and still mentally pleading with my rubbery limbs to continue regaining some form of normality and bear my weight, I stood.

Shaky and weak, my thoughts centered on gaining the safety of my home, for within its walls I hoped to find the sanctuary I sought from the beast, and pushing my exhausted frame, I methodically placed one foot in front of the other, staggering forward, as little by little, I put on momentum until I was practically tottering like a one year old, out of control and clumsy as I made my way across the space of my back yard.

Finally reaching the exterior of the cottage, and landing against the rough siding with a loud thump, I felt the fleshy underside of my forearms scrape against the timber as I slid several inches down its length before I could stop my fall.

Then, taking no time to spare any grief over the condition of my arms, I shook off the burning sensation of raw tissue and stumbled my way toward the back door, where shoving it open, I slipped, or rather tumbled, inside.

Slamming the wooden structure shut behind me, I secured the lock, and then collapsing against its surface, I slid down its length before pulling myself into a tight ball, and wrapping my arms around my knees, my body still shaking and quivering, great hiccuping sobs of fright began to escape from between my lips.

Over time the sobs eased, and the quakes slowed, leaving me with only an occasional tremor that rocked my frame, as with mind like putty and fatigued from the horror of what had just occurred, I realized I was beginning to feel the effects of shock, for I felt as if I was freezing.

Pushing myself from the floor, I toed off my sodden shoes so that I wouldn't leave muddy prints behind, then bending forward at the waist, I scooped up the footwear and made my way to the laundry area.

Then dumping the mud-encrusted sneakers on top of the washer, I followed the action by stripping myself of my sticky, mud smeared clothing as well, then wearing only my panties and bra, I began padding my way through the living area.

I found myself turning on lights as I went, for even the familiar furniture took on new and sinister appearances as they became within my mind hiding places for the unknown, and I peered intently and suspiciously in their direction.

Newly over sensitive to every creak and groan of the cottage, I jumped at every little sound, and continued darting apprehensive glances about me as I made my way down the hallway and into my bedroom, where stripping from my underclothes, I left them laying where they fell as I hurried towards the bathroom.

A few minutes later I was standing beneath the jets of the shower-head, the magic of the hot water felt wonderful, yet it was only able to soothe away a small portion of the chill that embraced me, for it seemed no matter the amount of hot water that sluiced over my frame, nor the length of time I stood beneath its spray, a large portion of ice water still shivered through my veins.

A small whimper escaped my lips, and I found myself sinking to my butt, where knees drawn to my chest and arms wrapped tightly around them in a protective manner, I sat huddled in a tight ball, rocking back and forth for comfort as I finished what had begun earlier when I'd entered the cottage, and let the tears flow, their salty deluge mingling with the flow of water from the shower-head.

How long I sat huddled on the floor of the shower, I had no idea. However, the temperature change of the water drove me to complete my bathing, for though having turned nothing less than tepid, the temperature alteration wasn’t a welcome occurrence and might as well have been chunks of ice that poured forth from the shower-head.

Shuddering, I quickly rinsed and pushed aside the shower curtain, as grabbing a thick cotton towel, I wrapped it securely around my chilled frame and stepped out onto the bath mat.

After drying I returned to my room and paused, not knowing what else to do, for I was lost to what came next. Shaking my head to clear it of the fog that enveloped my brain, I wondered over to my dresser and pulled out a pair of sweat pants and a worn, yet comfortable t-shirt from its depths and dressed.

Though the well used clothing comforted me, they did little to warm me, in fact, placed doubt within my mind that I'd ever feel warmed again, and as trepidation continued to skate down my spine, I made my way back into the interior of my home, hoping that within my painting I would be able, if even for just a little while, to forget what I'd just experienced.

Three hours later however, found me staring at where my canvas had been, a string of curse words blasting into the air around me.

I'd struggled for days now to find the right color combinations, and when they'd begun to come together at last, my fingers had flown with the paintbrush, and I'd watched in joy as the canvas had filled with beautiful flowing shapes and lines.

However, I now stood in frustrated shock, for in a blink of an eye it was gone, all of it completely burnt to a crisp before me.

“Aw
fuck!”
I shouted, staring at where the now nonexistent canvas had once been.

Though I felt an essence of anger at the small burst of leftover emanation that had developed within the room, which I knew was the culprit behind the criminal act upon my painting, I couldn't sustain the anger, for I should have realized it was coming, as a small burst always followed the more powerful exhibits of my gift.

However, since I hadn't used the ability, leaving it to lay all but dormant within me for the last few years, I’d forgotten it’s pattern, and never even thought to allow myself time to expel any lingering emissions before I touched my painting.

Something I’d learned the hard way in my youth, as my shield had burnt up several sets of televisions, radios and later, my paintings and drawings before I’d gained the understanding how to prevent the follow up occurrences.

Letting out a breath, I figured I ought to thank God that all I’d lost
was
just the one painting and not the whole damn collection, for though the minute burst had been small, forcing within me a certain amount of confusion that it had caused the complete destruction of my canvas, it had obviously been enough to make the painting play Houdini and perform a disappearing act all together.

Now, uncertain as to whether I wanted to laugh, cry or be royally pissed off at the very gift that had saved me, I decided that for the moment, crying suited the offense, for the fact was, if I hadn't had the ability, I’d be dead!

Which brought me back to square one, and the fact that
something
out there hadn't finished yet, for whether it was stalking me or the bayous, it had come looking for death, and only once been successful.

Wiping at my eyes as a shudder shivered its way throughout my body I turned, and in confusion made my way to the kitchen where I pulled open the freezer door of the refrigerator.

Snagging the pint of ice cream that sat huddled within the swirling mist of iciness inside, I pushed the door back to with a hip before snatching a spoon from the silverware drawer, then opening the container I shoveled a spoonful of sin into my mouth, doing a double take at the carton within my hand.

Holy
shit
I thought, my eyes widening in amazement, I'd definitely have to remember this flavor, for it was pure heaven!

Gripping the ice-cream container in my hand, I slipped another spoonful between my lips, and savoring the taste, I did the best I could to shove everything but my upcoming exhibit to the back of my mind, preferring to forget my other troubles for the moment and preserve my sanity.

Finally, after some deliberation, I settled on trying my luck again.

A few minutes later I was standing before a new canvas, this one supporting a few blotches here and there of my abstract musings, when suddenly a bright flash lit the room, joined by a huge clap of thunder that made me jump as it shook the walls.

The low rumble of the thunder was still echoing within my ears when the room was suddenly plunged into darkness, the space around me turning ebony, and the fierce lighting storm from without the cottage became the only implementation of light within.

Frantically my eyes tried to adjust within the eerie nothingness between flashes of light, and I felt the fine hairs on the nape of my neck stand on end as I began uttering strange, funny little sounds in my throat with my fear.

The feeling that someone else was in the room with me assaulted my senses to such a degree, I found it difficult to even draw a breath as the sensation reached out and wrapped itself around me, squeezing at my stomach until my guts were in a tight knot of fear.

Whipping around, the chill of dread climbing my spine as a monkey did a tree, I bolted from the room, crushing the now forgotten empty ice-cream container within my hand as I fled.

I could think of only one thing, and that was exiting the room as well the cottage, only I suddenly changed direction in mid-flight, for the sensation washed strongly through me that whatever was
in
the cottage might be far better than what was in wait for me
outside
of it.

In an instant, I was scurrying like a frightened dog back through the rooms, and if I’d had a tail, it would have definitely been tucked between my legs as I scurried down the hallway in a harried, mad dash for my bedroom, where finally reaching its entrance, I shoved at the partially closed door.

Hearing it crash against the wall as I shot through it, I grimaced, however, never slowed as I crossed the room, then leaped on the bed, jerking the light sheet I’d spread neatly across the bed just that morning up and over my body, before burying my head beneath the spare pillow, where I lay cowering, my teeth chattering nearly as loud as the knocking of my knees.

* * *

The next morning I awoke as the sun began poking its golden mane above the horizon, spreading its sleepy tendrils of orange and yellow ribbons across the sky, and rolling over, I watched through tired eyes as the ribbons journeyed their way across the hard-wood floor, creeping towards where I lay, as they washed the room within their announcement of the new day.

Within the suns kiss, the room lightened and brightened as a particularly persistent ribbon of light climbed up and onto the bed as it continued to methodically inch its way towards where I lay, until it bathed my face in its warm golden touch, forcing me to hide beneath the spare pillow again in an effort to blot out its radiant smile.

However, only a few seconds had passed before I was extracting myself from beneath the pillow, for I'd found I was suffocating within the insulated heat of my own breath, as within the confined space around my head, it had become overbearingly warm and stifling.              

Letting out a low, frustrated groan, I gave up and pushed back the sheet, sitting up, only to find myself staring nonplussed at the crushed ice-cream container that had, apparently, shared the bed with me through out the night.              

Reaching out, I instinctively scratched with a fingernail at the small dried puddle of sweetened milk that had spilled out of the container, and onto the fitted sheet. Then, sliding my legs over the edge of the bed, I picked up the cardboard carton and shook my head.

I felt my cheeks tint a light shade of pink from embarrassment, for now within the light of day, I felt silly at the pathetic state I’d allowed myself to fall into the evening before, for letting my imagination run so wild that it had conjured up an imaginary creature, a supremely evil...
thing.
..that prowled the bayous, awaiting its chance to bring forth death.  Jesus, was my life
so
uneventful that my mind was resorting
this
type of shit for stimulation
!

Blowing out a breath, I reached out and placed the ice cream container on the bedside table. Then rising, I began wiping the crystallized bits of sleep from my eyes as I made my way to the bathroom.

A few minutes later, having relieved my nagging bladder, I stood facing the mirror, giving the features before me a cursorily glance as I picked up my hairbrush and began tackling the kinks and knots that made up the birds nest that was supposed to be called hair.

When my hair finally fell in its normal smooth, silky curtain down my back, I set aside the brush, and glancing down at the t-shirt and sweats, I debated about changing, then gave a shrug. I wasn't going anywhere until later that evening, and could find no reason to dirty up anymore clothing than necessary.

A few minutes later found the bed stripped of the sweetened milk stained sheets, and a snagged ice-cream container clutched against them as I exited the bedroom and padded my way down the hall, where I dumped the sheets in front of the doorway to the laundry room.