In Love And Dread (435 hits)
Category: NoneLabels: Fiction
Rating: 2 on 9 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by kaos-king (View user info) at 2005-08-12 09:50:23 EDT
IN LOVE AND DREAD... BRIAN FATAH STEELE DEC. 2004
He had to be sure. He already knew the answer, but that creeping sensation. No, it would only end if he checked. It wasn't as if he was some ghoul. He was a refined, intelligent man. A modern fellow of modern beliefs. Such superstitious nonsense should be beneath him. But for the dread, he would have moved gracefully on from the the tragedy that had befallen his small family. To he, a victim of circumstance, but he knew the truth.
Ah, Melanie. Sweet, beautiful, frail Melanie. As delicate in life had she been in the coffin. Sorrow had flooded the senses of the small congregation of mourners, although it had not been unexpected. Ill health had plagued her all her short life, and since the previous winter it had all but consumed her. No physician had felt the need to examine her, her release into death calculated so long ago. No one would discover the poison he had leaked into her system.
Some would have even said it was a mercy. That she had been in a pain that God could have only seen through. That he had allowed his young wife to escape a cursed world. Of course, they may have questioned the money that he would receive as a widow's compensation. Only the secret he had kept of his gambling debts would be his downfall in an inquiry.
But no living persons knew of his hand. Not even his beloved knew that he had covertly hidden the liquid death in her acrid tea. The taste may have raised some question, had she not been so weak. Alas, her fate had issued her silent, too far succumbed by her wretched state to even bring herself to call out. That is, if she had even had the mind to notice the bitter taste laying under her medication.
He had played the role of dutiful husband. He had made all the necessary arrangements and saw to the grieving family. Such strength, they had whispered about him. Such resolve. He remembered to act out bereavement at the funeral, so as not to raise an eyebrow.
But now, here he was found. Tromping through a graveyard at the witchin' hour. The cover of darkness an aid in his mission of closure. He had been bombarded in the past weeks of her form rising, horrid and vengeful. His nightmares had woven themselves into his waking life, and now he saw beautiful Melanie around every window. Like a zombie or specter, she haunted him, she returned to remind him almost hourly now of his crime. A vampyre of lore, or a damned thing. He could not escape the feeling, that he was observed by dead eyes.
He sensed her all around him even now. The sky had taken on the blackness of her hair, while the stars above in the heavens twinkled as he remembered her eyes once did. A quiet woman, the sounds of the graves took on her persona, ney a stray bird or woodland creature breaking the stillness. Tomb stones stood rigid as watch guards over the desceased, their bleak facades a reminder of what lay beneath the Earth. To the rear of the land sat the Mausoleums, hulking monoliths to the underworld.
Her family name had been etched into the granite above the door, which was found securely shut. The dull green of mould gleamed dimly in the moonlight. This was a temple built to the presence of Death. That last chapter of existence, it had a fitting epilogue.
He looked around, his ears desperately hoping for a sound. Anything for a call of retreat. Even the pathetic need for a night watchman or a morbid townsman to be lingering. Nothing. He was alone in the country of ends, he was not halted in his quest. It was both relieving and terrifying.
Setting his torch to the ground, he produced the crowbar that would allow him access. The tune of metal scratching against stone wailed out like a banshee. Numerous times, his adventure was brought low as he listened for a reprieve. Eventually, the strength of both his arm and his will defeated the door, and it opened enough to grant him entry.
Now a descion was presented to him. Should he leave the door open, the light of his flame may arouse the curiosity of another. Yet, if he closed the door, he would be trapped within with a his former wife, who may or may not be in the final sleep. He determined to leave the stone slab cracked just enough to plunge his crowbar to freedom, should it prove necessary. A meeting of the two seemed most prudent and responsible.
He froze, suddenly, like one of the statues littering the grave yard. A sound. A sound crept to his ears. It was like the rustling of dried leaves across the autumn ground. And yet, this was the middle of summer and no breeze had been evident outside the Mausoleum. What was this noise, so subtle yet cascading down his spine like the call of a Demonic prince? He spun, hoping to trace the direction, if not the source, from which it originated.
Slowly, it abated. The silence once again enveloped him as he stood in the tomb. Perhaps a dog scratching at the door, searching for a edible hand out? He did not really think so, but let his mind agree to that suggestion. Anything else more macabre would send him screaming from the stone house. Now was the time for action. Now was the time to end his primitive fears.
He let his torch and made his way to the back wall, were his frail Melanie had been laid to rest. Starring at the coffin, he thought of all the possibilities that may present themselves with its opening. What would he reveal in it being laid bare? What true contents would it hold? He needed to finalize his life with her, to bring his fears to an end. He must end his irrational behavior, even if it turned out quite terrible.
He balanced the torch in one hand as he used the crowbar to pry upon the lid. It struggled against his weight. Harder he leaned onto the wooden lid, its nails trying their best to deny him his answer. Just before the lid flew up, his ears were once again assaulted by the sound of dried leaves, of crackling movement. The motion had already been engaged, so the lid came free before he could stop to listen more carefully.
And as so came the coffin lid, so came the horror. Thousands of spiders came exploding from the wooden box. Hundreds of thousands. Their tiny, spindly legs tapping on the backs of their brethren. Pouring forth like molasses, they crawled, leaped, and fell into the Mausoleum. In exclamation, his crowbar punctured the coffin above his Melanie. It too, released a horde of the creatures.
Screeching like the devil himself had come lumbering out, he frantically made his way to the door. The spiders were shortly upon him, and he used the crowbar to brush them away. Relentless, they pursued their meal, a fresher one than the one provided in the doomed wooden picnic baskets. Swiftly, they found their way into his clothing, creeping into his protected areas.
Biting into his flesh, he was disabled and dropped the flaming torch. A small leak in the roof had dampened the floor, and the light quickly extinguished. Now a new horror he was plunged into. The spiders overwhelmed him shortly after the darkness did.
The sound of dried leaves continued on for some time.
User Reviews
Submitted by ruthless (user info) at 2005-08-12 16:43:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Ew.
Submitted by munkeypants (user info) at 2005-08-12 16:15:30 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Deidra (user info) at 2005-08-12 15:42:45 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I feel itchy.
Submitted by mockidol (user info) at 2005-08-12 14:49:46 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
<<Rhetorical Question Here>>
I wonder what I'm going to rate this?
Submitted by Jeanneee (user info) at 2005-08-12 12:45:00 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I've got the heebie-jeebies big-time. <twitch>
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2005-08-12 12:05:28 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
very cool
Submitted by goose (user info) at 2005-08-12 10:20:34 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
<shudder>
Dammit, I hate spiders.
Excellent writing - perhaps a little too, oh, gothic Dickens-y for my tastes, but damn good nonetheless.
Submitted by pen_name (user info) at 2005-08-12 10:19:30 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
if you email bart, he'll probably dump the post for ya...though i'd be proud of that name. it's very 007.
Submitted by kaos-king (user info) at 2005-08-12 09:53:43 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
My dumbass took this straight out of appleworks and forgot to take of the header. -2die