I step out of the tavern into a cold, midnight rain. A beggar sits next to the door on a wooden bench, warming his hands with a newspaper. It reads "The Colonies.." I can't see much more. I need to
know. I do business with the colonials in America. "Oh give me that you filthy bum!" I say ripping it away. "I deserve knowledge more than the likes of you deserves warmth!" I say walking away. I
open my umbrella as I step into the rain. "The Colonies Revolt!" It says.
"Drat. Thi-" My thought cut off by a sound behind me. I throw the newspaper down and head for the edge of town. My cottage is in the woods. I walk into the woods on the path I use every day. Half way to my cottage, there is a shift in the trees. Rustling everywhere. There is a dark figure. My height and build. Standing twenty feet ahead of me. In the fog. "Stranger!" I call out. "What will you have of me?" I ask in the same tone. He just stands there a moment. That's when the sound started. A piercing noise companied by children screaming in pain. The figure circle around me quickly. Not sure where to focus my attention, I fall to the ground. I curl up, pleading for mercy. The figure stops circling. It comes to me, slowly. It wraps it's cold, unforgiving hands around my neck. It starts lifting. "You are no man! A work of the devil! Jesus and the father! Help me!" The beast turns it's head. It has no face. I chuckle at this while gasping for air. I find it amusing. My killer, with no face. The sounds grow ever stronger. Large explosions, screaming, repetitive gun-fire. It's awful. Still laughing at the faceless beast, it throws me to the ground. I shift, clutching my surely broken ribs. Almost instantly, it is in my face. No longer faceless. It has become a mirror of sorts. It's face replaced with mine. A blank expression though. Hah, my killer is me. At that moment, it puts it's left hand at my throat, choking, while the right sharpens into a long, thick blade. I saw myself die when the blade pierced me. I watched myself walk through a valley. Fire all around. I saw myself come to a large, black, decorated gate. It opened before me. I watched myself walk through the gates of Hell. I watched myself walk deeper, until I got to a mountain. Standing at the foot of the mountain, I watched my face. There was no change in expression when the beast that killed me flew off the mountain, still wearing my face. It cast me into a lake of fire, and at that moment, In that vast lake of heat, I felt a cold unlike any I've felt before.
© Copyright 2016 Jamesthethane. All rights reserved.
Poem / Historical Fiction
Short Story / Horror
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