Shadows will breathe

Shadows will breathe
"Careful. Evil has a way of making friends with the good and dragging them into the darkness." ~ Dr. Al Robbins

Monday, February 27, 2012

At Sunset

Nightmare #44
And upon this steep hill – only accessible by foot or by some rugged, all-terrain vehicle – sat a man.  He was older than most, and creepier than any one person I had ever met, dream or no dream.
Beyond my hesitation was a force that pulled me towards him.  I chose to ascend the hill.  The dirt road stood erect with craters the size of meteorite hits and divots of delicate earth that were upturned.  Halfway up the incline, a single sign stood on the side of the path, planted in dead grass.  It simply read:  Blown Glass Ahead.
Then, like a flip of a switch inside my head, I remembered why I was here.  I faintly recall having been at a souvenir shop only an hour before, inquiring about their products.  They had one huge, beautiful blue glass vase sitting in the window of this little cozy shop and it just happened to be not for sale.  With an inherent need to have one for myself, I insisted on where to find one and ended up here - wherever here was going to be.
Sweat dribbled down the middle of my back as I pushed on up the hill.  The day’s sun hung low beside the hillside, playing peek-a-boo behind a think line of evergreens.   I pushed on and thought how great a huge glass of water would taste right about now, or maybe one of those big gulps of cola and crushed ice you purchase for about 10 dollars at the movie theater.  Either way, I was parched and tired and was
Just
About
At
The
Top.
Upon reaching my destination, the craggy man stood up.  His denim overalls and white shirt were caked with dirt and clay.  Or maybe it was paint.  Thick glasses, which made his eyes appear large and wild, decorated his rather small, unshaven face.  He put his hands to his hips and spoke in a gruff voice.  “Get off my property, ma’am.”
“Hold on a second.  I just wanted to take a quick look at your products and hopefully make a purchase or two.”
“Not for sale,” he grunted, turned and started walking away from me.
I followed behind him.  “Earlier, I was shopping at this little store in town and I saw one of your vases.  Absolutely beautiful.  Anyway, they recommended I come up this way.”
“Not for sale,” he repeated, not slowing his walk.
Fighting for breath, I pulled on his forearm to stop him.  “My God, don’t you want to make some extra money?” I asked, still panting for air.  “I hiked the whole way up here to see your work.  I will pay cash.”
He sighed.  “Go.  Go now.  Come back in the morning.  Come at first light.”
“But I’m here now.”
“But I can’t help you once the sun goes down.”
“What?”
He paused and stared off into the distance.  Tilting his head, he studied the passageway of trees.  He refused to look at me when he spoke.  “If you go now, you might make it.  If you wait even another minute, you won’t.”
“What are you talking about?”
And as if to answer me, a wail so deep and boisterous erupted from the tree line.   My heart palpitated so fast and loud that I could feel it beating in my neck, right under my ears.  I tried to catch my breath.  A fear swelled up and resonated inside me. 
“It’s almost time,” the man whispered.  He gave me a nod, and took off into a sprint around the trees and through an open field.  I could just see the top of a tin roof on the other side of the lea.    
A small piece of the sun still twinkled behind the hillside, casting its orange glow about the land. 
Another piercing wail reverberated through the trees.
I started to run.
With panic as my power, I all but skidded down that hill.
Faster and faster my feet took me.
I leaped over one crater of a pothole after another; I bounded overturned rocks and slid through gravel.  The path curved and I knew I was close. 
I could finally see my car.  I just had to reach it.  

Another wail resonated behind me.  Then, another.  How many where there?  And what were they?  What was coming for me? 
Don’t look back. 
Do.
Not.
Look.
Back.
Instead, I looked up.  The sun gave me one last wink before the hillside snuffed out its light.  The trees around me began to melt.  Literally, melt.  They withered into sadness.  I could hardly believe my eyes. 
What the hell was I doing coming here? 
All of this for a vase?
No.  Too ridiculous.
 I was lured here.  Set up.
I screamed out of frustration and from the burn that took hold of my upper thighs. 
Almost.
At.
The.
Car.
I heard the gravel kicking up behind me.  A running sound of sorts and more wailing, followed by snorts and whispers. 
Maybe wild pigs?
Dogs?
Vampires?
I chuckled. 
Vampires.  So overdone these days.
And in the next second and with one swift movement, I was in my car. 
Doors, locked. 
Key, turned.
Engine started on the first try.
Yes!
I threw the gear shift into reverse. 
And just like the curious victim in a horror story, I had to see it.  See what was coming for me.
I paused.
And coming down the path at an alarming speed was a pack of black, ghastly figures.  It looked as if they were one big puff of billowing smoke, but they had the tiniest pair of skeletal legs for running and their mouths hung open wide, so wide they could probably swallow me whole.  Where their eyes should be, were bright white spaces, the look and shape of eggs.  One of these things raised its thin, bony skeletal arms high above its head.  It and the other shadowy figures wailed in unison.
I started to cry. 
I shoved the gear shift into drive and thanked God over and over again as those horrific figures got smaller and smaller in my rear-view mirror.

The End 

- story written by: Deevious -
Tree pic compliments of Morguefile.  Thank you..

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