Read Online Riser (Teen Horror/Science Fiction) (Book #1 in The Riser Saga) ((Volume 1)) by Becca C. Smith - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Becca C. Smith
Tags: Fiction, thriller, Family, Horror, Twilight, Zombie, COmic, teen, undead, Ghost, writer, secrets, Smith, Dead, necromancer, Tween, Potter, tv, Little, Becca, Whisperer, hole, swirling, harry
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seemed to pop from genuine terror. “You wouldn’t dare,” he hissed.
“You’re back now and we forgive you, but we won’t let you mate with this trash. These are the consequences you have to pay.” Geoffrey Turner reached out and touched my mother’s belly. “She’ll be coming soon, I’d say my good-byes if I were you.”
That seemed to crack whatever composure was left in my father. He punched the Vice President so hard in the face that he flew back five feet to land on his gold coffee table.
CRACK!
I cringed as I realized some kind of bone snapped in Turner.
Roberta wheeled on my parents.
And then the most frightening thing I had ever seen happened…
Roberta’s eyes turned a deep solid purple. Out of her mouth a large boa constrictor slithered its way to the floor and moved with lightening speed toward my pregnant mother.
“Mom,” I said in a quiet frightened voice.
“Keep watching,” was all she said.
My dad grabbed a gold statuette from the mantle and threw it as hard as he could at his mother. It hit with such terrifying impact that Roberta crumpled to the ground with only the sound of the THWAP to her head. The snake vanished only milliseconds from my mother’s feet…
…THUMP!
I clenched my hands over my head from the tortured agony of the returning…
THUMP!
The surroundings were starting to swirl and change once more. I didn’t know how much longer I could take the throbbing pain. My mind was racing and sluggish all at once. I wanted to vomit, but I could literally feel the disconnection between my body and this strange form I was currently in.
Red, orange and black churning colors swarmed around my eyes with dizzying force. In an instant everything was in focus.
Mom and I were standing next to a ten-foot bonfire. It was the only source of light in the pitch black dead of night. The flames licked up the side of a silhouetted cliff face and the sound of crashing waves filled the unnatural silence.
That’s when I noticed Geoffrey Turner and Roberta standing in front of the fire. Their faces were painted like skeletons and they were dressed in long black robes embroidered with intricate tribal designs.
Their eyes were inhumanly pitch black and they began chanting unintelligible words. The fire responded in turn, flames rising higher and higher, crackling and snapping like a furious counterpart to the spine-chilling peace of the night.
Roberta’s feline face was monster-like in the fire’s glow. In her hands, she held a picture of my mom. She threw it into the flames and the fire roared in answer.
Turner reached down and picked up a cruelly serrated knife with symbols carved into the handle. He screamed in a kind of tortured pleasure as he tore into his arm with the saw-toothed blade. Blood poured from his wound into the fire.
The fire was alive with what could only be described as ecstasy. Flames were jumping and leaping into the darkened sky. Turner’s voice was hoarse and crackling as he said, “The mother and child will die.”
Turner’s wound closed like an imaginary zipper, zipped his skin back together, forming a large white scar. Both Geoffrey’s and Roberta’s eyes cleared.
WHOOSH!
The flames instantly extinguished and we were all plunged into darkness.
THUMP!
Ow. Seriously, ow.
Mom and I were in a delivery room. My delivery room.
There she was, dead on the gurney, and me, the baby me, dead in my father’s arms.
The doctor was there. He placed one hand on my father’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
When my father didn’t respond the doctor shook his head in sympathy, “I’ll give you a few moments.”
The doctor left the room.
I was stunned by the memory. I turned to my mother. “But how?”
“This is how it happened,” she said and looked at me. Her eyes were filled with tears and then she turned back to the memory.
As soon as the door swung shut my father took a deep breath and placed my corpse on top of my mother. He leaned down and kissed mom’s lifeless body.
I gasped
“You’re back now and we forgive you, but we won’t let you mate with this trash. These are the consequences you have to pay.” Geoffrey Turner reached out and touched my mother’s belly. “She’ll be coming soon, I’d say my good-byes if I were you.”
That seemed to crack whatever composure was left in my father. He punched the Vice President so hard in the face that he flew back five feet to land on his gold coffee table.
CRACK!
I cringed as I realized some kind of bone snapped in Turner.
Roberta wheeled on my parents.
And then the most frightening thing I had ever seen happened…
Roberta’s eyes turned a deep solid purple. Out of her mouth a large boa constrictor slithered its way to the floor and moved with lightening speed toward my pregnant mother.
“Mom,” I said in a quiet frightened voice.
“Keep watching,” was all she said.
My dad grabbed a gold statuette from the mantle and threw it as hard as he could at his mother. It hit with such terrifying impact that Roberta crumpled to the ground with only the sound of the THWAP to her head. The snake vanished only milliseconds from my mother’s feet…
…THUMP!
I clenched my hands over my head from the tortured agony of the returning…
THUMP!
The surroundings were starting to swirl and change once more. I didn’t know how much longer I could take the throbbing pain. My mind was racing and sluggish all at once. I wanted to vomit, but I could literally feel the disconnection between my body and this strange form I was currently in.
Red, orange and black churning colors swarmed around my eyes with dizzying force. In an instant everything was in focus.
Mom and I were standing next to a ten-foot bonfire. It was the only source of light in the pitch black dead of night. The flames licked up the side of a silhouetted cliff face and the sound of crashing waves filled the unnatural silence.
That’s when I noticed Geoffrey Turner and Roberta standing in front of the fire. Their faces were painted like skeletons and they were dressed in long black robes embroidered with intricate tribal designs.
Their eyes were inhumanly pitch black and they began chanting unintelligible words. The fire responded in turn, flames rising higher and higher, crackling and snapping like a furious counterpart to the spine-chilling peace of the night.
Roberta’s feline face was monster-like in the fire’s glow. In her hands, she held a picture of my mom. She threw it into the flames and the fire roared in answer.
Turner reached down and picked up a cruelly serrated knife with symbols carved into the handle. He screamed in a kind of tortured pleasure as he tore into his arm with the saw-toothed blade. Blood poured from his wound into the fire.
The fire was alive with what could only be described as ecstasy. Flames were jumping and leaping into the darkened sky. Turner’s voice was hoarse and crackling as he said, “The mother and child will die.”
Turner’s wound closed like an imaginary zipper, zipped his skin back together, forming a large white scar. Both Geoffrey’s and Roberta’s eyes cleared.
WHOOSH!
The flames instantly extinguished and we were all plunged into darkness.
THUMP!
Ow. Seriously, ow.
Mom and I were in a delivery room. My delivery room.
There she was, dead on the gurney, and me, the baby me, dead in my father’s arms.
The doctor was there. He placed one hand on my father’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
When my father didn’t respond the doctor shook his head in sympathy, “I’ll give you a few moments.”
The doctor left the room.
I was stunned by the memory. I turned to my mother. “But how?”
“This is how it happened,” she said and looked at me. Her eyes were filled with tears and then she turned back to the memory.
As soon as the door swung shut my father took a deep breath and placed my corpse on top of my mother. He leaned down and kissed mom’s lifeless body.
I gasped
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