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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
Something is coming...

Submitted: July 28, 2017

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Submitted: July 28, 2017

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A A A



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Ethan’s heart was broken. He watched his old friend Oliver shiver and stare out the window like a creeper. Oliver, the man whom he had spent so many nights trying to pull girls in Blue Note and Reflex with. Oliver, a man he had known since they attended Darrick Wood school together, and a man he had once considered a best friend. Here he was now, nine years later, sweating and crying like an utter lunatic.

‘What happened to you?’ Ethan asked him, and Oliver spun around like a clumsy fidget spinner. His eyes scattered themselves across the walls.

‘You have to protect me from it,’ Oliver raved. Even his voice was different. It rattled as if his very words were falling apart.

‘What you’ve told me, mate,’ said Ethan. ‘It’s-‘

‘I know you think it’s bullshit!’ Oliver yelled. ‘Can’t you at least pretend to believe me?’

Ethan whispered his way across the carpet towards Oliver, and Oliver cringed; Ethan had never seen him do that before. Oliver was more the type of guy to make others cringe with his explicit comments. ‘I’m not going to entertain your fantasy. You need help.’

Oliver straightened himself. ‘You all sound so patronising, you know that? You think I’m crazy, fine. But I’m not stupid. How’s a psychiatrist going to help me stop this demon from chewing my face off?’

 Ethan was almost fascinated, and Oliver could read his mind.

‘I’m not on drugs! I haven’t even touched coke or mushrooms in years. I don’t give a shit about all that anymore.’

‘It really would explain everything,’ said Ethan. ‘Tell me if you have, mate. We’ve been friends for nearly a decade, I’ll get you through it.’

Oliver’s eyes died a little, seeing the hopelessness in convincing even his oldest friend of his plight. He sat in a chair and pulled at his hair. ‘It’s coming,’ he said, and he began rocking back and forth. ‘It’s coming, it’s coming, it’s coming. Can’t run. Can’t hide. Can’t fight. It’s coming…’

‘Oliver, what the –’

Oliver jumped up. ‘Did you look the door?’

Without waiting for an answer, Oliver bolted across the room and went to the front door. It had been locked immediately after he pushed his way into the house. He went to the back door and double-checked that, too. Locked. He returned to the living room, and a torrent of giggles fell out of his mouth. ‘Doesn’t matter anyway. The fucking thing can walk through walls, did I tell you that?’

‘Yes.’

‘You know what, Oliver?’ said Ethan. ‘He pulled up a chair and sat down. ‘Tell me about the demon. I don’t believe it, but I believe that you believe it. I’ll help however I can.’

Oliver peeped out the window once more. He then turned back to his old friend. ‘Look, I dunno, OK? I was trying to bang this goth chick. Pretended I was into the dark arts and all that shit.’ He began pacing. ‘We went to a graveyard… god this sounds stupid… anyway, we went in, sat in a circle together and did this chant. I didn’t understand it – she was hot, OK? Then there was this… shadow. Corner of my eye. It was like… melting. Then there was a strong wind and. She ran. She ran away. God, that bitch! I never even got to fuck her!’ He kicked Ethan’s couch. Ethan didn’t mind. ‘It’s been hunting me for almost twelve hours now. I can’t outrun it.’ He turned to Ethan. ‘You have to help me! You have to help me fight it!’

Ethan winced. ‘Look, I’ve got a baseball bat upstairs…’

‘Fuck your baseball bat. I fired at it point blank with a shotgun and it didn’t even flinch. You have to help me… bring it to rest or something. I dunno! Isn’t that what they do in horror movies? There’s got to be a spell to send it back, right?’

Ethan shrugged. ‘Have you tried googling it?’

Oliver went very stiff. ‘I can hear it. I can hear it, it’s coming! It’s coming!’ He jumped up out of his chair, then fixated on the corner of the room. His eyes were enormous. ‘There, look!’ He pointed. Ethan looked up and saw simply the corner of his room, as it had always been.

‘There’s nothing there.’

Oliver backed into the opposite side of the lounge. He reminded Ethan of a baby rodent as he begged for help. Ethan could hardly contain his incredulity. Here was rowdy, raucous Oliver… whimpering. ‘Ethan… please. Please help me. It’s there, can’t you see it? It’s right there!’ And he pointed now at the wall. Just a wall.

Although he didn’t believe his friend, Ethan’s neck hairs stood to attention. ‘I promise there’s nothing there.’

Oliver was unable to respond. His eyes were fixed on nothing. ‘Please, Ethan, please, please help! It’s… no! Oh God, oh fucking Christ!’

He opened his mouth to scream, but all that came out was a dry crackle. The colour drained from his face, and his dead body fell to the ground like a collapsed puppet.

 It was Ethan in the room now, alone with Oliver’s corpse. The atmosphere was dense, and Ethan could hardly breathe for the tension.

‘There’s nothing here,’ he whispered. ‘Nothing, nothing, there’s nothing here.’

But…

 



© Copyright 2017 Reagle. All rights reserved.

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