a demon's curse

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: April 22, 2016

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Submitted: April 22, 2016

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A Demon's Curse




 

Silence, that was all to be heard in the dark, vile cabin. Men lay frozen, as if time had stopped completely; an everlasting nothingness. Blood laid cold on the floor, for it had been spilled hours before. Wrists slit open, clean, as if the blade was sharpened after each cut. Their eyes still open, but nothing lay within, for they were dead and gone. A man walks in, his face clear of expression. He stops at the door, taking a moment to look at the bodies, and the blood.

God there’s so much He thought. a quiver of disgust came upon his face. He started to walk around the room, examining the bodies, and the cabin.

He knelt down over one of the bodies. He had long flowing hair, and hazel green eyes. still open. he shut them, whispering a prayer under his breath, he seemed to know him. He examined the rest of the body, looking for anything he had. He found nothing, disappointment started to wash over. He heard a noise from behind, he turned around to see what it was. A man was propped against the wall. sitting, his eyes burnt from his face. As he walked closer he could see the charcoaled skin and ash forming around what was now his eye socket. It looked like he was trying to say something but he couldn't get it out. The only thing he could manage to was a whisper; “Alastor.”  He was dead

“Prayers be with you, brother.” He said, shutting the man’s eyes. He stood up once more, and headed for the door. He went to the trunk of his car, and old car, from the 80’s. he pulled out a gas tank, and headed back inside. “Time to go.” He said, as if speaking to the bodies. He started to pour gas, making sure to hit just about everything on the ground, and walked outside, still pouring gas. he got almost to his car before he stopped. and turned around, taking one last look at the cabin. “Goodbye” he said, and lit the gas.

The flames grew, from nothing to an abyss of rage and anger. It was like staring at hell itself. He watched for a bit, then got in his car and drove off. He drove for what seemed like forever, a few stops here and there for gas, but mostly stayed on the road. After a while he began to think back to the cabin, remembering the bodies and the blood. Mostly he was thinking about what the man said. Alastor, it was repeating over and over in his head. He knew he’d heard that name before, but he couldn't remember where.

It wasn’t much longer after that that he had reached his destination. It was a home, a white home. It was a classic Suburban house, with a backyard and picket fence. Two greek style pillars were manning the entrance. He pulled into the parking space, sitting in his car, just staring at the house. He watched as a woman cooked in the kitchen. It looked like she was talking to someone. Pretty soon a boy, not more than 12 walked into view. She gave him a big hug. Soon after that a man walked in and gave the woman a kiss. He watched this all with a glooming nothingness. as if he’d never seen them before, but he had. his phone began to ring, he seemed quick to answer it. “Hello, Grey.” A grisly voice said. “Who is this” Grey responded. Nobody answered.  He hung up and threw the phone into the backseat.He waited just a bit more before he stepped out of the car, making sure to be quiet. He crept towards the backyard, every once in awhile, taking a moment to look around, making sure he was alone. He got to the back door, it was a slide open. they need some help with security He thought, because the back door was unlocked. he slid it open, very quiet, not making a sound. He turned and closed the door behind him. He examined the room, it was a spare one, more like a home theater. There was a couch in the centre and a television in front of it. He walked toward the door straight ahead of him. He took out a broken piece of mirror and slid it under the door, to see if anyone was there. There wasn’t, he went through, with the same level of quiet as before. He moved to the shadows, knowing they were close by. He could hear them talking, they were having dinner together. For some reason he seemed surprised, but didn't know why. He felt anger start to course through him, but he didn’t feel angry. His vision started to weaken, but not enough for him to not see. He wasn’t in control of himself anymore. Horrible thoughts, that weren't his own, shot through his head. I'm going to kill them all, and you’re going to watch A voice in his head said. Slowly, he began to draw a knife, one he didn’t even know he had. Then, he burst into the room. They all looked at him, surprise on their faces. He walked toward the boy. Him first The voice said. ‘Da…..” The boy started to say, but before he could say anything else, Grey shoved him onto the table and slit his throat. Blood went everywhere. sprayed out like a hose nozzle. The sound of gargling filled the air as he choked on his own blood. The wife screamed and the husband went for the knife. With a quick movement of his arms he dodged the husband, and plunged the knife into his heart. blood spilled from his mouth as he fell to the ground. The floor was already soaked from the boy. The wife started to run but Grey turned around and chucked the knife into the base of her skull. He walked over and with a slight Chunk he took back the knife. He stood up, tall, looking almost proud about what he had done. He walked to the restroom to clean off the blood. He started to wash it off when he looked in the mirror. A man with short well groomed hair, a greyish colour, and a jawline that could cut glass stared back. and his eyes, black as night. It was then he remembered. He remembered everything. He remembered being held captive for years and years by the men at the cabin. He remembered his brother too, and how he died during the ritual. He remembered how he too was used for the ritual, and how it worked, how he killed all those men, slowly, enjoying it. He remembered his family, his wife and son, Katlynn and Nate. His eyes shifted back, light blue ones stared back now. Tears ran down his face. Anger had filled up inside him, this time his own. he screamed and shouted, for it was all he could do, breaking the mirror, not being able to look at himself any longer. It was then that he realized there was only one thing left to do. He looked down at his hand, he still had the knife, still covered in his family's blood. He took one last look at himself in the shattered glass and whispered “I’m sorry.” and slit his own throat. People say dying is like fading away. Sometimes slow, sometimes quick, but for Grey, it was an eternity of pain. Finally, after several moments of agonizing pain, he was gone, and he knew where he’d be next.

 


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