Read Online The Risen: Dawning by Marie F Crow - Free Book Online
Authors: Marie F Crow
Tags: Horror
Ads: Link
finally silent. The stoves no longer hold their pristine glaze. The once shining tiled floor is now a slippery mess of dark fluids. It takes me a moment to understand what is missing. To understand what I should still be hearing. This realization spurs me into action and coats me with desperation. I ease past the pile of corpses, fearing any movement or twitch, but everything lies horribly still around me.
“Conroy?”
What should only be a few steps before me turns into miles to reach the dented and marked door.
“Conroy?” I whisper against it, pleading for him to answer me.
My hands are slick with their blood. They slide along the handle before making enough traction to allow me to open the door. There are ghosts waiting for me inside these doors. They cause a haunting that shall never be exorcised from my mind with any level of prayers or holy water. The ghosts whisper to me what is beyond the door before I fully open it, with sounds and smells that seep out to greet me.
I have come to know them like well-hated friends. They spare me from the vision of torn blue cowboys trying to escape on horses spread before me by tearing hands and chewing mouths. Sightless blue eyes that will be staring beyond to a world I cannot see. Like a coward, I slide down the door, refusing to open it any further. My last fragile one is beyond my help now. He no longer screams for me or from pain. He is deep in sacrificed dreams and hopes. I let the door slip shut on my failure.
We told them monsters are not real. They are only in your minds. There is nothing to fear in the dark. There are no monsters in the closets. They are only in stories. They only live in books. They only seem real in the movies. They are fictional. They cannot hurt you.
Their final moments were realized by our lies. Monsters are now real and there is very much to fear from them. I have failed my Angels. One after another, I was there and could not save them. I tremble with the weight of that truth. Grief pours from me in silent screams as I rest against his tomb.
Chapter 12
I n mindless abandonment, I drove for hours. To think would have meant I was aware of my surroundings. The last thing I wanted was to have to be aware of what was before me. The streets were becoming active with madness. Bodies lay among the twisted metal ruins of cars.
Houses stood open in panic plagued escapes from their occupants. There were screams for help from various areas, but I never looked. It was worse when the screams were just wordless octaves ringing through the air. Through it all, everywhere stood the calling card of Death, from the scents of his heavy perfume to his mind numbing visuals. He was everywhere today and every Demon wanted its pound of flesh.
It was not a stroke of genius that I ended up at Grit. It was, after all, my home away from home. One by one, to the roaring of motors or the gentle hum of cars, we all made the connection that safe harbor was here. Here where we are safe from society’s judgments and rules. Their black vests are donned, even today with the many events that have unfolded, the men welcomed each other, glad to see another Brother had made it home safe.
Haunted eyes and warm embraces met each new arrival as we all wore our badges of triumphs from the trip here. It served to raise the hopes of those already here with each swing of the door. A few shared their stories in whispers in the dark corners of the bar, but most just sat in private hells of their own making with eyes cascading. Conversations rose like the seas to a roar before being washed away over and again as the same question floated among all the tables. Why?
Aimes and I had begun to do what we normally do when at work in our own attempt to block out the events the day had held for us. Shot after shot, beer after beer, we poured as the jukebox played to stir tune-inspired feelings between the gaps of suffering shown around us. Her pink-streaked blonde hair bounced with our shared
“Conroy?”
What should only be a few steps before me turns into miles to reach the dented and marked door.
“Conroy?” I whisper against it, pleading for him to answer me.
My hands are slick with their blood. They slide along the handle before making enough traction to allow me to open the door. There are ghosts waiting for me inside these doors. They cause a haunting that shall never be exorcised from my mind with any level of prayers or holy water. The ghosts whisper to me what is beyond the door before I fully open it, with sounds and smells that seep out to greet me.
I have come to know them like well-hated friends. They spare me from the vision of torn blue cowboys trying to escape on horses spread before me by tearing hands and chewing mouths. Sightless blue eyes that will be staring beyond to a world I cannot see. Like a coward, I slide down the door, refusing to open it any further. My last fragile one is beyond my help now. He no longer screams for me or from pain. He is deep in sacrificed dreams and hopes. I let the door slip shut on my failure.
We told them monsters are not real. They are only in your minds. There is nothing to fear in the dark. There are no monsters in the closets. They are only in stories. They only live in books. They only seem real in the movies. They are fictional. They cannot hurt you.
Their final moments were realized by our lies. Monsters are now real and there is very much to fear from them. I have failed my Angels. One after another, I was there and could not save them. I tremble with the weight of that truth. Grief pours from me in silent screams as I rest against his tomb.
Chapter 12
I n mindless abandonment, I drove for hours. To think would have meant I was aware of my surroundings. The last thing I wanted was to have to be aware of what was before me. The streets were becoming active with madness. Bodies lay among the twisted metal ruins of cars.
Houses stood open in panic plagued escapes from their occupants. There were screams for help from various areas, but I never looked. It was worse when the screams were just wordless octaves ringing through the air. Through it all, everywhere stood the calling card of Death, from the scents of his heavy perfume to his mind numbing visuals. He was everywhere today and every Demon wanted its pound of flesh.
It was not a stroke of genius that I ended up at Grit. It was, after all, my home away from home. One by one, to the roaring of motors or the gentle hum of cars, we all made the connection that safe harbor was here. Here where we are safe from society’s judgments and rules. Their black vests are donned, even today with the many events that have unfolded, the men welcomed each other, glad to see another Brother had made it home safe.
Haunted eyes and warm embraces met each new arrival as we all wore our badges of triumphs from the trip here. It served to raise the hopes of those already here with each swing of the door. A few shared their stories in whispers in the dark corners of the bar, but most just sat in private hells of their own making with eyes cascading. Conversations rose like the seas to a roar before being washed away over and again as the same question floated among all the tables. Why?
Aimes and I had begun to do what we normally do when at work in our own attempt to block out the events the day had held for us. Shot after shot, beer after beer, we poured as the jukebox played to stir tune-inspired feelings between the gaps of suffering shown around us. Her pink-streaked blonde hair bounced with our shared
Similar Books
