and hide in the deep dark, feeding off our natural
demise. They know no name, but nonetheless, we are dealing with an
apt force that is attempting to break through the barriers between
worlds to feed on their own accord,” The Jane said.
“So, you’re saying
some sort of ghost or demon is trying to possess me? What would he
want with me? Rick leaned on the wall and crossed his arms.
“Ha, such simple
blanket terms; may be neither, or both.” The Jane sat motionless,
with her red eye fixated on Rick. “I have seen all kinds of them.
Some could be deemed ghosts—entities that could have once been
human. And there’re others beyond corporeal description, other than
the fact that they are malice incarnated. All I know is one of them
found a way into our world: through me, into you.”
“Through you, into me
. . . the legless man . . . ”
“I have dealt with
them for a long time. My mind operates on different channels than
most people.” The Jane’s voice cracked. “The legless one you
speak of is clever, has many disguise s ,
many tricks up his sleeve. He fancies himself Russell.”
“Russell . . . ”
Rick realized why the auditor’s face looked so familiar; because it
was the face of the imp from the nightmare, just smoothed out to pass
as human, a clever disguise indeed.
“He cozened you to
believing him friend, and you dropped your guard, drunk and
vulnerable. He lived again through you for a night, and what a night
it was. But he is not with you now, no, he is with the girl from the
motel. She doesn’t have long.”
“The woman is already
dead.”
“So you think. I told
you he has tricks—”
“Then explain this.”
Rick took off the robe, exposing caked blood on his arms.
The Jane laughed again.
“Look in your shorts.”
Rick hesitated.
“Go on. Inside, all
the way.”
He pulled the elastic
band of his briefs forward and saw his genitals similarly caked in
blood. He said nothing and looked at the Jane with wide eyes.
“Nothing to worry
about Rick, your man-parts are still in working order. The woman in
the motel was simply on her monthly misery when, well you know . . .
” Her voice sounded ancient now. “He implanted the experience of
killing the girl within you, so you would storm off, as you did, and
he could take her. You see, the woman is imbalanced, her mind turns
against her; easy work for Russell. He plans to manipulate the woman
into throwing herself over the Canadian side of Niagara Fall, at the
crest, ‘tis a special place.
This
is all too much. Rick rubbed his temples.
“I can see the woman,
through the woods. He leads her across the shallows of the Niagara
River, towards the falls. If you don’t stop him, he will gain
strength. And the next time he gets inside of you, you won’t break
away so easily.” The Jane’s head began to slouch and her eye
began to close, as if fighting off sleep.
A part of Rick was
incredulous of The Jane’s prophecy, but how she did know he would
have blood in his shorts? “How do you see all of this?”
“Think of the radio
in your automobile; with the twist of the knob you can listen to
whatever you want. In my case, the channels of my mind are only set
to the parasites that travel through me.”
So many questions raced
through his head: what was so special about the Canadian side of the
falls? What happened to the Jane, and why did things like Russell
travel through her? But there wasn’t time, so he decided to ask
something pertinent. “How can I stop something like this?” Rick
asked.
“Wake her up,” The
Jane paused and held a clenched fist to her chest, like she had a
case of indigestion. She rocked back and forth, her good eye closed,
and she began to audibly choke. The Jane’s featureless face
writhed, then transmuting to a painfully stretched countenance—long
and horse-like. She got to her feet, stood up on top of the bed, and
both of her hands clawed her face. Blood snaked between her
fingertips. The haunted
demise. They know no name, but nonetheless, we are dealing with an
apt force that is attempting to break through the barriers between
worlds to feed on their own accord,” The Jane said.
“So, you’re saying
some sort of ghost or demon is trying to possess me? What would he
want with me? Rick leaned on the wall and crossed his arms.
“Ha, such simple
blanket terms; may be neither, or both.” The Jane sat motionless,
with her red eye fixated on Rick. “I have seen all kinds of them.
Some could be deemed ghosts—entities that could have once been
human. And there’re others beyond corporeal description, other than
the fact that they are malice incarnated. All I know is one of them
found a way into our world: through me, into you.”
“Through you, into me
. . . the legless man . . . ”
“I have dealt with
them for a long time. My mind operates on different channels than
most people.” The Jane’s voice cracked. “The legless one you
speak of is clever, has many disguise s ,
many tricks up his sleeve. He fancies himself Russell.”
“Russell . . . ”
Rick realized why the auditor’s face looked so familiar; because it
was the face of the imp from the nightmare, just smoothed out to pass
as human, a clever disguise indeed.
“He cozened you to
believing him friend, and you dropped your guard, drunk and
vulnerable. He lived again through you for a night, and what a night
it was. But he is not with you now, no, he is with the girl from the
motel. She doesn’t have long.”
“The woman is already
dead.”
“So you think. I told
you he has tricks—”
“Then explain this.”
Rick took off the robe, exposing caked blood on his arms.
The Jane laughed again.
“Look in your shorts.”
Rick hesitated.
“Go on. Inside, all
the way.”
He pulled the elastic
band of his briefs forward and saw his genitals similarly caked in
blood. He said nothing and looked at the Jane with wide eyes.
“Nothing to worry
about Rick, your man-parts are still in working order. The woman in
the motel was simply on her monthly misery when, well you know . . .
” Her voice sounded ancient now. “He implanted the experience of
killing the girl within you, so you would storm off, as you did, and
he could take her. You see, the woman is imbalanced, her mind turns
against her; easy work for Russell. He plans to manipulate the woman
into throwing herself over the Canadian side of Niagara Fall, at the
crest, ‘tis a special place.
This
is all too much. Rick rubbed his temples.
“I can see the woman,
through the woods. He leads her across the shallows of the Niagara
River, towards the falls. If you don’t stop him, he will gain
strength. And the next time he gets inside of you, you won’t break
away so easily.” The Jane’s head began to slouch and her eye
began to close, as if fighting off sleep.
A part of Rick was
incredulous of The Jane’s prophecy, but how she did know he would
have blood in his shorts? “How do you see all of this?”
“Think of the radio
in your automobile; with the twist of the knob you can listen to
whatever you want. In my case, the channels of my mind are only set
to the parasites that travel through me.”
So many questions raced
through his head: what was so special about the Canadian side of the
falls? What happened to the Jane, and why did things like Russell
travel through her? But there wasn’t time, so he decided to ask
something pertinent. “How can I stop something like this?” Rick
asked.
“Wake her up,” The
Jane paused and held a clenched fist to her chest, like she had a
case of indigestion. She rocked back and forth, her good eye closed,
and she began to audibly choke. The Jane’s featureless face
writhed, then transmuting to a painfully stretched countenance—long
and horse-like. She got to her feet, stood up on top of the bed, and
both of her hands clawed her face. Blood snaked between her
fingertips. The haunted
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