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Scribe
Join Date: Mar 2008
Location: wallops island, virginia
Gender: Male
Posts: 80
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Dark Angel (revised)
She floored the pedal and sped through the suburban streets as fast as she could- wincing at the ground from a steady rain that left the road slick and wet enough to throw up a glare from the street lights making it difficult to see. It was 12:17am. Her eyes moved and darted around for any sign of cops. When where they going to pop up? She didn’t hear them. She didn’t hear anything except that voice inside her head. “He’s going to kill me.”- a phone call made not twenty minutes ago from a boy her boy once knew. Her boy was gone. Taken by his father, from a mother sunken in pain, drugs, and the dark, seductive grip of moral descent. She remembered the home- knew it more from instinct than she did memory. She didn’t have to read the numbers. She didn’t have to follow the street signs. It was in the suburbs, three blocks down from the local high school. It was one of those quiet towns in the city that made you question if you were still in the city. She could have found it blind.
She ran out the car and up to the door shaking, nearly dropping the pistol and flash light. She was wearing jeans and an old black leather coat. Her dark hair would have hung down to her jawbone had it not been matted with sweat. She leaned against the door trying to center herself- her mind flailing in the wind- but the flood of memories roared through her head. Five foot, eight- dark eyes and a dark mood, she had been working in this city for three years. Born and raised in Baltimore, she had graduated out of college a year short; an early-bloomer with a few thorns to add. She then moved down to South Carolina were she became a proud harlot with a fetish for crime, violence, and civilizations outlaw alpha males. She slipped and got knocked up by a whining weakling who happened to get lucky that night. The result was a blonde haired boy with dark eyes who looked more like his father, and acted like him. Peter. The weakling had enough and decided to leave after catching her cheating for the third time. He took the kids easily. A steady paycheck, spineless tears, and proof of his wife’s disgusting habit was more than enough. A half year later, she had a sort of shinning moment where between bills and the same brand of facetious loser knuckleheads, she threw up her hands and said Tuck this! She had known of a man from her past who would come to help her get the only job that she might have been suited for. She was intelligent. She had always known that. A year later after hard work and rolling around, under, and over key pains-in-the-ass, she pulled of a license as a private investigator. Three years later, here she was. She didn’t know she loved the boy till he left her. She didn’t know why. She didn't want to think of that, now.
She shook herslef out of her nostalgia, taking in the humid autumn air. I don’t believe in this. I don’t believe in this. She didn’t call for anyone. There was only two in this house. The rest were dead. One would not answer. The other was not allowed to. She checked the gun and felt for her spare clips. She breathed three times quickly before she rammed against the door again, and again!
It gave then. She slid through the door quietly, eyes moving back and forth over the room, turning on the flashlight and beating it against her forearm before it became brighter. She scanned the living room and the stairs that led into darkness. She felt for the light switch and flicked it- but she knew it would not turn on. It curtly clicked at her in response. She was not aware of sweat falling down her brow and soaking her shirt. She was aware of the room…hyper aware. She could almost feel everything- the couches, the TV, the rug, the wood, the air. She saw the two bodies of what appeared to be adults. One was on the sofa- like he had been sitting upright before something bashed his head in. The blood stain on the wall seemed to say as much as the trails it formed down his white shirt. On the two-seater adjacent to that was a woman. She had a little more of her head left than the male. Half her jaw and some teeth. What the hell was going on? She took a slower look around to find a hint or clue. No! Nothing here. Nothing alive. I know their not here. Upstairs or downstairs?. She shifted the light towards the kitchen anyway. Perhaps it was training, but she wanted to clear the entire floor first. How many mistakes could she have avoided by following through in the past. She moved through the kitchen swiftly, coming back to the hall. Up or down? She looked up. She felt fear at rising into that darkness, but she dreaded descending into the basement. But for some reason, the bottom crawled on her nerves. It was not hollow like the rest of the house. Things were down there.
Is he still alive?
She slid open the door. She could hear the faint hum of the boiler in the basement. Her body seemed to protest every movement she made, but her nerves were so alive- electrified. Her body. though, felt odd. As if it were reaching into the darkness ahead of her. Pulling itself toward it, whether she followed or not. Focus. Her ears strained for sound other than her own. She could see nothing as she crept down. He was in here. She could feel it. She moved only guided by the faint light that shone through the rectangular windows. She bumped things and rolled off it with small shockwaves of terror that made her legs lock up. She was losing it. She swore she could feel him everywhere. He was behind her. No, above her. He was somewhere, ready to rip her chest open. She could smell the wooden walls around her. The damp rug beneath her. She swung the light back and forth over what seemed like a small apartment, but sloppier. Ahead, she saw a wooden door painted brick red. Behind it, she could hear the boiler drone off into darkness. It was the only closed door she came to. She gripped the handle and turned it. Her nerves bunched up inside her arm and legs. She pushed the door away and aimed her gun into the room. She could feel the wideness of the room before she saw it. Moonlight fell from three windows near the roof- lighting the room just beyond vague. She moved her light over the dark places the moonlight could not penetrate until she came to a corner, and her breath caught. The boy was standing there, rigid. Wide-eyed and vacant. He didn’t see or hear anything. He wore shorts and a shirt. About six years old. Three foot, five. Daniel. Her boy’s friend. They used to play in the street together. She called out his name.
“HE’S MINE.” But the voice wasn’t his. Nor did it come from his direction.
She spun around- her fear so wild, it was mind-blowing as something rushed against her with the constitution of a cement bag. She crashed to the floor- the wind knocked out of her chest and stomach with two different types of pain. She scanned with what felt like bloated eyes, but she couldn’t see anything. She gasped for the air. Her body felt like curling in around her stomach, but she raised her gun when a hand grabbed her leg and heaved- pulling her across the floor and up into the air upside down. Blood rushed to her head as the gun nearly slipped out of her grasp when another stiff arm slammed against her side and sent her flying into a steel rack against a wall. It fell down on top of her as she crumbled on the floor. She was aware of the blood and scrapes on the left side of her face and scalp now. She could feel it trickle where the skin was scraped raw. She pushed herself off and fired into the darkness, screaming. She fired till she clicked. She heard it snarl and broke left as she reloaded- her body shaking from raw nerves. The knuckles on her left hand were ragged and bleeding. She saw the boy shake out of his trance and a terror of the kind she never thought she could see contorted his face. He didn’t scream or go crazy. He just stood there frozen with that nightmare image, shaking his head slightly as if shivering. Her breath then caught in her mouth as she herself was frozen in horror. At first, she didn’t know if it was the moonlight, or just her mind, but the boys hair had stood up and turned from brown to solid white right in front of her. “Oh my god!…” She rasped. “Oh my god, oh my god.”
She heard movement from her left and shook herself off. “Run.” She yelled. He didn’t move, but his eyes fell on hers. Terror fell on her. “RUN!” She screamed, her mind skirting insanity, itself. Just then, she heard a scuffle as if something were running for the boy. She didn’t know when she decided to, but her body rose up and ran to intercept. She crashed into it and fell on the ground on top of it. It felt rough, solid, and powerful. She saw the boy running out of the corner of her eyes before a hand grasped her throat and clenched down. The fingers wrapped all the way around her neck and tapered into what felt like sharpened sticks digging into her throat. She gurgled as she screamed in fury rising through pain and fear. She pointed the gun at the thick shadow beneath her and fired and fired. She fired till her gun clicked. She clicked until the things grasp slipped from her neck and its other hand knocked her clear across the room into a workbench. Its roar was like nothing she had ever heard. It shook the entire room, breaking the windows of the basement. She heard it thrashing on the ground, tearing and striking at anything around it as she lay on the floor herself. Her side felt as if it had been hit with a telephone pole. She could barely breathe without the pain making her grit her teeth. She rolled over and crouched. She watched in the moonlight what looked like a human in shape, but taller and massive. Its hands and feet ended in sharp claws. Powerful, it thrashed and jerked like some huge crocodile. It seemed covered in what looked like black bark. The most chilling part was when its eyes caught the light of the moon and shined like a dogs. In them, she didn’t see a monster, or demon, but fierce, depthless insanity. Abruptly, she saw the boys shadow skim over the window and out into the night as he ran away. And then the shadows of the room began to spin and close around her vision. A cold sweat begin to form over her body. She was relieved and terrified at the same time. There was no crying for help. No sound at all. He was just running. All of a sudden her mind came back, and she didn’t want to look at the thing in the shadows. She pulled herself up and ran for the stairs with all her strength when she felt it rise and reach out for her. Her back curved in reflexively to avoid it, but it grabbed her jacket and jerked her back so violently, her neck whipped. She fell down hard, her head bouncing off the ground. She grit her teeth, holding her head and crying out loud it. She didn’t know where the gun was. She didn’t even remember running out of bullets. She didn’t even see the form above her rise to its full height. The moon caught its eye and shinned off it like a mirror. She only had the slightest warning of movement when a foot crashed down into her chest. She felt her bones snap, and blood flung out of her throat and mouth. It snarled in a way no dog or human ever did. It snarled in a way that only made her body cringe and grow colder. It made her want to tear her face off. She only thought of the boy, running in the night with white hair and a face that could have killed the person looking at it from shock. Where is he going? She couldn’t see any longer. Only shadows and thicker shadows. She could only feel the sensation of something filling her mouth, but she couldn’t taste it. She couldn’t feel the tears falling down her temples. She tried to look up. All she could see was a shadowed foot hovering over her face. The glimmer of that eye again, and then the shadow descended…and all vanished in darkness…
Last edited by mAMBOkING : 04-27-2008 at 05:37 PM.
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