Chapter 2: The Messenger pt 1

I awoke to the smell of sulfur in the air. It was two A.M. and it was already a hard night’s sleep that made my brain Topsy turvy. I opened my eyes to blurred vision, a pounding head, and a lingering shadow that hovered above my bed. A low key whisper protruded through my tingling ears. When I sat up in my bed and turned on the bedside lamp the shadow dissipated into thin air.

I stood, looked around, a .38 S and W already in hand. I found nothing at first. But I heard a rumble in the kitchen and proceeded there. I hit the light switch and something grabbed my hand. I heard a hissing sound and that damned sulfur perfumed the air once more. The shadow reappeared, with its winged body and over-sized turnip shaped head. I felt hot breath that smelled of rotting corpses on my face.

“Light is not permitted, Chambers.” The shadow said. It knew my name and wasn’t polite enough to give its own name. My wrist was beginning to ache, this thing had some grip.

“You can let go of me, funny face,” I grunted.

“I heard you had quite a sense of humor…..a human trait that disgusts me.” Its voice seemed to change pitch with each syllable. It was an annoying sound to my ears, a lot like fingernails across a blackboard.

It removed its Kung Fu grip from my wrist. Something told me to put the S and W away, it wouldn’t do any damage to this creature anyway.

“I’m sure it’s not as disgusting as your breath. My guess is your mother never made you brush your teeth…or fangs.” It wasn’t a joke it liked at all and showed it by cutting loose a growl that shook the refrigerator.

“If I was here for any other reason–”

“Why are you here, waking me up in the early hours—?”

“If you weren’t under the protection of G’nal, I would eat your intestines from the inside out!” The appliances shook again. This thing had put me in a bad mood. Yeah, I was in the protection of the Demon G’nal, and whoever this Hellspawn was, he was a lower rank than my protector. Screw it, I was gonna push it to the limits.

“You don’t have any power beyond scare tactics. Guess what? I’m not scared.”

It grabbed my arm, the flesh began to simmer, burn. I screamed dropped my gun. Suddenly I was thrown across the room into the living room of my bungalow. My back slammed into the wall, jarring framed photos of loved ones to the floor. I tumbled across the carpet, knocking the T.V. off its stand.

“Make sure you give this message to Romy Berline, human waste. You have two days before I come for your body and turn it into a pillar of salt.”

I touched my arm, symbols and letters from a strange language had been etched into my flesh. I looked up and the shadow was gone.

Continue on to Part 2 of The Messenger

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