Wednesday, 18 April 2012

Contractions XIII - XIV (Paige, ???)


XIII - Paige

            "Paige!?"  The voice barely managed to puncture the bubble of confusion and fear that was building up around her as she sat in the corridor.  It was a familiar voice.  She made a faint effort to reply, letting out little more than a whimper.  In her mind she was screaming, David!  David, help me!  You've got to wake me up or shake me or something.  Please, David, tell me it's just a dream...  Then a lanky figure stood above her and she looked up at a youthful, attractive face, painted with concern, eyebrows knitted together.

            "Paige, what happened?  I heard you scream and-"

            She was already curling back into herself, staring at the door.

            "Paige!  You need to tell me what happened.  Did someone... something attack you?"

            She looked back up at him, nodded faintly and then started to stand up.

            "You?  Did you see them too?"

            "I killed one... in the cemetery."

            "This isn't just a nightmare then?  I'm not just going mad?"

            "I don't know, but if there are more of those things then it can't be safe here."
Again she nodded.  The boy in front of her - she realised she didn't know his name - seemed strangely comfortable in the role he had adopted.  This wasn't like their talk fifteen minutes ago, he wasn't play-acting the seducer, this was survival and he seemed... capable.  "Where can we go?  They were... they were coming out of the walls!  How can we escape that?"

            "I don't know, but we should probably leave the apartments.  This can't be happening everywhere."

            Paige nodded distractedly.  She had heard something on the other side of the door again.  The creatures were still moving in there.

            "Is your husband still in there?"

            She turned back to him, sighed.  "No.  I couldn't find him.  I don't know where he's gone."

            "Do you have any kind of torch or gas lamp, or anything like that?"

            "There should be a torch in the kitchen drawer, but I'm not going back in there.  The kitchen is where they first came from."

            "We'll need to be able to see better."

            "I don't care.  I'm not going back in there."

            "It's okay.  I'll go in on my own."

            He stepped towards the door and placed a long-fingered hand on the handle.

            "No, please don't open it."  Her voice had risen into the range of the hysterical.

            He smiled awkwardly at her and began to turn the handle.  "Stand back."  He said, then he pushed it open and disappeared inside, closing it behind him.

            Paige stared at the door in horror.  She knew that he wouldn't come out of there again.  She knew it.  He had entered her nightmare briefly and now he had exited again.  Eventually she would run away, or she would give in to that horrible consuming beast that is curiosity and she would open the door and look inside and see him, body torn apart, limbs-

            "Got it!"

            The door slammed shut behind him as he stood panting in the corridor.  A second later and the darkness was illuminated by the strong beam of the torch shooting off towards the doors to the stairwell.  Paige just stared at him in silent wonder.

            "Now let's get out of here."

XIV - ???

            He opened his eyes.  The room was cold and quiet.  He breathed a sigh of relief and stood, forgetting his moment of prayerfulness instantly.  Just a nightmare perhaps?  A delusion!  There was nothing to fear.  There had been no flames.  He had fallen asleep as he read - after all candlelight could be very soporific - and he had dreamt that the soot stain on the ceiling was becoming something else and that in turn had startled him into a partial wakefulness.  He had knocked the candle over and even though it had snuffed out as it fell his dream-addled mind had concocted another nightmare for him and-

            It wasn't ludicrous was it?  He sniffed the air.  He could smell smoke.

            Standing, he made his way back towards the sofa and picked up the candle from the floor.  There were matches on the table it had fallen from and he re-lit it.

The room was charred.

            Panicking he scurried into his private study and was relieved to discover the room was devoid of any smoke or fire damage.  He made his away to a little chest which sat beneath a simple Protestant crucifix, drew a key out from underneath an old bible on a nearby bookshelf and bent down to open it up.  He gathered the papers together quickly.


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