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Scene #41
He stumbled again, falling scraping his knee on the pavement. His
bag went sliding scattering its contents across the pavement and
more importantly the book. Panting, his heart racing and sweat
pouring down his brow he scrambled to gather the strewn contents
up. Marcus glanced back. He couldn't see it but he could sense it
coming. It was moving fast and he had no intention of waiting
around for it.
Scooping the book up he started to run again,
pumping his legs as fast as he could. The night was cold but with
the adrenaline coursing through his veins there was no way he'd
appreciate the temperature, a rarity on the island, and the clear
sky with millions of pin points of light sparkling.
Late
at night the street was deserted. A few cars were parked along the
curb under the yellowish glow of halogen light. No one was around
to ask for help. A car whizzed by music blaring the chassis
vibrating with the thumping of a bass line.
To stop anyone
though or to ask anyone for help would put them in danger. He
clutched the book tightly as he rounded another corner. His eyes
widened. A church, he didn't know there was one and even though he
wasn't catholic he headed towards it thankful for consecrated
ground and maybe a small graveyard behind it.
Rounding the
stone structure that rose up above him he could hear it now. No
longer sensing it he could hear it behind him. He'd be safe on the
church grounds. He was sure. He had the book. He could stop it. He
just needed to stay on the grounds of the church until the sun
rose.
Flicking his wrist he glanced at the watch. The face
was smashed probably from falling the first time when he stumbled
down the steps of the old house chased by the evil that lurked
inside eager to take him into the darkness.
"Shit!" he swore
under his breath seeing it cloud before his mouth. "Oh fuck!" He
swore again. It had been cool on the island but enough to see his
breath was too cold.
Goose bumps rippled across his flesh.
The hair at the back of his neck was up at attention. Slowly
turning peering into the darkness he could see nothing but the
street, the street lamps and a figure. It was a man it seemed
staggering. The man paused, took a sip of something in a bag and
started walking again. Then he saw it.
The smoke came up
behind the man blocking out everything behind him, the street lamp,
the parked cars and the street itself as it engulfed him.
The scream sent shivers down Marcus' spine. He'd tried
unsuccessfully to get into the church checking windows that were
too high and shaking large wooden doors securely locked.
He
shut his eyes and began to pray. He knew it would try everything to
get him off church grounds but the book said it couldn't touch him
there. It couldn't reach onto the grounds and grab him. He was
safe. He was safe. He kept telling himself clutching the book to
his chest.
The lights of street lamps around him
exploded as the darkness got closer and closer. There was a rumble
like that of thunder after a blinding flash of lightening. It shook
the ground and his soul as he felt the chill approach.
Marcus dared not open his eyes. Then there was nothing. Not a
single sound. Not the sound of the breeze, the sound of a car, the
sound of crickets in the grass where he stood nothing.
He
opened his eyes and screamed dropping the book as the man he'd seen
staggering came hurtling at him thrown by the unseen hand of
darkness knocking him from the cemetery clear off church
property.
The smoke overwhelmed him, the stench of sulfur
burnt his lungs and his throat and his eyes as he clawed at unseen
hands that tore into his flesh as if they were knives. He screamed
and cried but death was a certainty. The last thought that went
through his mind was the book and who would stop this beast now.
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