Read Online Ancient Eyes by David Niall Wilson - Free Book Online
Authors: David Niall Wilson
Tags: Horror
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legs wildly. It was more sensation than he was accustomed to in a dream, but he lost little thought on this oddity.
He saw the mountain ahead and banked against the backdrop of clouds. On one level he knew it was a dream, a familiar dream, the freedom of flight against a backdrop of darkness that threatened to enfold him at any moment and deny any return to the ground, or to the light. He was certain that Freud or any number of modern philosophers and psychologists would have a field day with the symbols.
Lights flickered on the mountain's side, and he was no longer himself, but had taken on the form of a great bird. He swooped in low and came to rest in the branches of a tall oak. Below, the white church stood. Its windows were ablaze with light. Smoke curled from the chimney and dark shadows moved about inside. He heard sounds from within, but they made no sense to him.
The image of the great stone face from his previous dream returned to him and he cocked his head, concentrating. The surface of the church rippled oddly and faded to translucence. Within its walls he saw long trailing roots and strong ropes of vine binding the wood, running through its core like the veins through the flesh of some great corporeal being, seeking the earth and stone beneath.
The entire structure was woven into a menacing, writhing mass that concentrated just above the main entrance.
As he sat, perched easily on a high branch and hidden in shadows, the universe shifted. The motion and turmoil below ceased, then refocused and bent its will toward him. The structure shuddered under the sudden shift, and the mountain itself rolled to the side, like the shrug of huge shoulders.
Abraham backed along the limb toward the trunk of the tree and shivered with sudden apprehension. He did not want those dark eyes to find him again, not here, and not as he hid in the branches and sneaked about like a spy.
With a frantic whirl he leapt from the branch, flapped his wings, and turned around the far side of the tree to keep it between him and the church. He heard something cry out, and he flapped harder, and then harder still. His muscles strained with the effort.
Then the sound below him shifted tone and timber and became a great bell, ringing over and over, and something gripped him by his shoulders, talons taking him from above. He cried out sharply, and woke with a start, bathed in sweat.
The phone was ringing. He heard a voice calling his name. Hands gripped his shoulders and before he could control it, he gripped the wrists tightly. His mind cleared fully when he heard Katrina gasp in pain and realized it was her voice that he heard. The phone was still ringing.
"You're hurting me, Abe," Katrina jerked backward, and he released her. She pulled back and away to her own side of the bed. The lamp on her side was lit, and as he sat up slowly, leaned on the headboard and shaded his eyes from the light he saw her reach for the phone.
Something clutched at his heart and he lunged. She saw the motion, and, obviously spooked, skittered off her side of the bed and away. Abe grabbed the phone off its hook, ignored her, and spoke with a shaky voice.
"Hello?" Only static replied. "Who is it?" Katrina asked. Her voice shook. "Who is this?" Abe asked. There was no reply. Moments later there was a loud click, and the line went dead. As the dial tone cut back in, Abe hung the phone up and laid his face on the sheets, dazed. Then, very slowly, he released the breath he hadn't even been aware he was holding and rolled to his back. He covered his eyes with one arm. For the second night in a row he'd awakened bathed in sweat, and this time the dream wouldn't let go. He couldn't shake the sensation of flight. The images of the dream remained as vivid as if they were memories, and he didn't even try to speak until he heard soft footsteps and felt the bed shift slightly.
Katrina touched his arm tentatively, and he pulled it slowly from his eyes and met
He saw the mountain ahead and banked against the backdrop of clouds. On one level he knew it was a dream, a familiar dream, the freedom of flight against a backdrop of darkness that threatened to enfold him at any moment and deny any return to the ground, or to the light. He was certain that Freud or any number of modern philosophers and psychologists would have a field day with the symbols.
Lights flickered on the mountain's side, and he was no longer himself, but had taken on the form of a great bird. He swooped in low and came to rest in the branches of a tall oak. Below, the white church stood. Its windows were ablaze with light. Smoke curled from the chimney and dark shadows moved about inside. He heard sounds from within, but they made no sense to him.
The image of the great stone face from his previous dream returned to him and he cocked his head, concentrating. The surface of the church rippled oddly and faded to translucence. Within its walls he saw long trailing roots and strong ropes of vine binding the wood, running through its core like the veins through the flesh of some great corporeal being, seeking the earth and stone beneath.
The entire structure was woven into a menacing, writhing mass that concentrated just above the main entrance.
As he sat, perched easily on a high branch and hidden in shadows, the universe shifted. The motion and turmoil below ceased, then refocused and bent its will toward him. The structure shuddered under the sudden shift, and the mountain itself rolled to the side, like the shrug of huge shoulders.
Abraham backed along the limb toward the trunk of the tree and shivered with sudden apprehension. He did not want those dark eyes to find him again, not here, and not as he hid in the branches and sneaked about like a spy.
With a frantic whirl he leapt from the branch, flapped his wings, and turned around the far side of the tree to keep it between him and the church. He heard something cry out, and he flapped harder, and then harder still. His muscles strained with the effort.
Then the sound below him shifted tone and timber and became a great bell, ringing over and over, and something gripped him by his shoulders, talons taking him from above. He cried out sharply, and woke with a start, bathed in sweat.
The phone was ringing. He heard a voice calling his name. Hands gripped his shoulders and before he could control it, he gripped the wrists tightly. His mind cleared fully when he heard Katrina gasp in pain and realized it was her voice that he heard. The phone was still ringing.
"You're hurting me, Abe," Katrina jerked backward, and he released her. She pulled back and away to her own side of the bed. The lamp on her side was lit, and as he sat up slowly, leaned on the headboard and shaded his eyes from the light he saw her reach for the phone.
Something clutched at his heart and he lunged. She saw the motion, and, obviously spooked, skittered off her side of the bed and away. Abe grabbed the phone off its hook, ignored her, and spoke with a shaky voice.
"Hello?" Only static replied. "Who is it?" Katrina asked. Her voice shook. "Who is this?" Abe asked. There was no reply. Moments later there was a loud click, and the line went dead. As the dial tone cut back in, Abe hung the phone up and laid his face on the sheets, dazed. Then, very slowly, he released the breath he hadn't even been aware he was holding and rolled to his back. He covered his eyes with one arm. For the second night in a row he'd awakened bathed in sweat, and this time the dream wouldn't let go. He couldn't shake the sensation of flight. The images of the dream remained as vivid as if they were memories, and he didn't even try to speak until he heard soft footsteps and felt the bed shift slightly.
Katrina touched his arm tentatively, and he pulled it slowly from his eyes and met
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