Shadow Crawlers. Part 22.

I’m back in Dublin now, have been for the last few days.

I’m looking forward to the weekend, I’m going out with some friends, I haven’t seen them in a while so it should be good fun. I’m also hoping that there will be costumes. I didn’t get to go out last night, but I’ve a particularly good one (I think anyway.) If it is a costume thing I’ll throw up a pic on Mondays short story. I quite like Halloween, already have ideas for next years costume.

On with the show!
Part 1, Part 21

She breathed slowly, it was more difficult to control than she remembered. Already this body was starting to fail. Before she could go years with the same body with no fear of it degrading. Perhaps it was the people of this time, maybe they were weaker, or unhealthier. She shook her head. That was ridiculous, there was so many of them, they must be better than before, but why was this so difficult now? She had been locked away for a long time, but that shouldn’t mean that she couldn’t control everything as usual. It seemed anything she inflicted on those around her damaged the body in some way. Perhaps that was part of the containment, make it impossible for her to reach great heights again. Keep her down. But that shouldn’t have been possible. There were a lot of things that were supposed to be impossible. Perhaps their creators weren’t as clever as they thought. She felt a sudden, sharp pain in her temple. She couldn’t think like that, shouldn’t think like that. The creators were kind, benevolent and all knowing. The pain receded. Perhaps it was just pent up energy, she remembered captivity, raging against the walls of that prison, the pain of not being able to do what she was designed for. Maybe, in time, everything would return to normal. Of course that would mean she would have to put her revenge on hold, but for how long? She could be slow, methodical when she wanted to be and right now, she wanted revenge to be swift, a massacre. She stood from the bench and began to walk, she was feeling better. In control. She could feel tendrils of it, reaching out, searching, caressing those passing by. It was almost like being a child, inability to control ones actions. She’d have to do something big, something slow. It would help her get the hang of things again. It couldn’t be too public though. She didn’t want people hunting for her, or terrified. The fear wouldn’t help her too much. It was a nice accompaniment, but not the main event.

“You have to talk to him.”

“Why me?”

“He listens to you.”

“Not always.”

“Well, he will now. Look I’ve been going night and day to try and keep this place even close to warm. They’re going to get suspicious. I’m tired I can’t rest properly. It’s getting out of hand.”
Brett sighed, “I’ll talk to him.” The house had been getting colder since Simon and Joey arrived, and Simon didn’t seem to realise that he was the cause. Brett always hated things like this. He was never good at dealing with grief. He much preferred to be cold, aloof to all these problems, but the others would invariably drag him into it. Of course, it made things easier for them as he was usually unbiased and would solve the problem quickly, but he had never encountered anything like this before. There was no easy solution, there was nothing that could be done. Simon would have to work through his grief. Simon had kept to himself, away from the others. Joey had spent the time exploring the house and playing with Amy.

Brett found Simon sitting in the library. The floor of the room was thickly carpeted, the shelves went from floor to ceiling, stained glass windows allowed light in, but gave it an almost sacred feeling. Simon didn’t look up as Brett entered, he had a book in his lap, though it was open, Brett doubted he was actually reading.

“How are you doing?”

“Fine. I guess.”
“Rose wanted me to talk to you. The house has been getting colder, she thinks it’s you.”
“I didn’t notice.”
“You don’t notice the cold.”
Simon shook his head, “I do now. It doesn’t bother me, but I can definitely feel it. It isn’t cold in here.”
“I’m not going to argue with you about whether or not it’s cold. I’m concerned you can’t control yourself. You need to get it together if we have any chance of succeeding. If you don’t, we’ll all die and that includes your son.”
Simon closed the book and stood. “I’ll do better.” He left the room.

Brett sat down in one of the chairs. He saw a shadow pass down the doorframe. They’d have to do something about the vermin, they must be all over the house. It wouldn’t be dangerous for anyone who was normal, but Joey might have a few problems. It was just one thing after another. He missed the simpler times. The times when they could rule without fear or worry. When the only concern was when the next sacrifices would be brought. He didn’t like feeling fear or worry, he didn’t like being like this. It was all too human.

She stood at the entrance to an alleyway, far enough back that she wouldn’t be easily spotted. It was dark but mostly clean. People occasionally walked by, never glancing in her direction. She wanted to wait, find the perfect person. A man paused just past the entrance to the alley. He was fiddling with his phone. She moved forward slightly and concentrated, the man didn’t notice the girl, after he finished what he was doing he started to walk again. She crept closer, staring at him. He walked ten steps, then twenty, he took another and collapsed onto the ground. His body crumpled suddenly, there was no one around to see, no one but her. She moved back into the alley and walked out the other side. Someone would find him, ambulances would be called, she didn’t want to be seen. It would look as though he had suffered from a brain haemorrhage. Nothing could have been done to save him. Her work was slightly sloppy, there would be other, odd bleeds throughout his body, never the less, she was gaining control. If she had tried that only a few days ago, no doubt the man’s entire body would have been filled with spontaneous bleeds. She was getting better. She slipped from the alleyway and started to walk. She felt something wet on her upper lip, she reached up and wiped it away not bothering to check what it was. It would stop by itself in a moment.

“Excuse me, miss? You have a nosebleed.”

 “What? Oh, thank you.”

The man reached into his pocket and took out a packet of tissues, he handed them to her. She grabbed a few and held them to her face.

“Are you feeling ok?”

“Yeah, it just happens sometimes, thanks for the tissues though.”

“You’re welcome.” The man started to walk away. She considered practising on him, then reconsidered. It was tooa close to the last one. She mopped up the blood and continued on her way. She had plenty of people around here to practise on, she wanted to get some of the finer details down. She stopped walking and looked back at the man who had stopped her, he was a good hundred feet away. He suddenly jumped, then looked at the back of his hand. There was a small cut there, he looked at the wall, wondering if he had hit against a nail. She turned and continued walking, yes. She was getting better.


About Alan James Keogh

I am a 26 year old writer who somehow tricked U.C.D. into giving me not only a degree in English and Classical studies, but an Hons Masters in Creative Writing too. Visit my blog where I post short stories twice a week (Monday and Wednesday) and an installment of a serialised novel on Fridays. I did consider writing this in the third person, as though it was written by someone else, but Alan is not comfortable writing in the third person as it seems kinda creepy and unbalanced so Alan decided it was probably best to write in the first person. He hopes it went well for him.
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One Response to Shadow Crawlers. Part 22.

  1. Pingback: Shadow Crawlers. Part 23 | Alan James Keogh

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