Eternal Entity: A Dark Supernatural Thriller (The Celestial Rose Book 1) Page 2

  Together they came, running as one, like raptors coming in for the kill. Pack animals, darkness swarming through its rotting corpse. What do I do? What are they?

  “HELP!” I screamed again, catching the guys attention once more. “Help! They’re coming!”

  He looked over, swarmed in darkness as he leapt into the air. It was too little too late. The face of death was upon us.

  “No!” I yelled “Get off me!”

  The toddler cried, screaming in agony. Caleb wept as the monsters kept coming. I pulled my brother and the girl in close, protecting their bodies with my own. The creatures ripped at my back as I bore down, tensed up. Adrenaline on overdrive. Fight or flight kicked in. Instincts heightened, and I screamed, and screamed, and screamed.

  If time had a pause button, to be looked at 360 degrees, that would have been the perfect moment. A young guy leaping to save a fallen girl. A fallen girl sacrificing her own life to protect the bodies of two more. Dying on her sweet sixteenth, broken and bloodied. But then, with her broken body comes one last fight. Never give up! Never surrender! And with the pain, with the anguish, her true self shines through. Glowing with the force of a thousand suns as it blasted from her body, like the wings of an angel caressing humanity’s broken soul, radiating through the station like a laser show. A laser show with sharpened edges and a guillotine finish. Tearing through the monsters, eviscerating the darkness, levelling the playing field.

  In that moment, that freeze frame in time, you would have seen the hellish beast’s head turn to witness the fallen girl, to see the magic as she wields her armoury. You would see the black trench coat flap in the air as the guy leaps to save the princess, only to be pulled back by his clan. You would see the ceiling cave in around the kingdom, with the knight falling short in his fairy tale. Then you would hear nothing more as the subway station collapsed around the living, damned be the dead.

  It happened quickly, wiping out the darkness, unlocking the light. It wasn’t me. I was no longer the pretty princess on her sweet sixteenth. I was something new, something bigger, something to fear. But for that moment, I was trapped amidst a pile of ash, cradling my family, as we lay alone and wept.

  Chapter 2

  Were they real? A question that kept floating through my mind every waking moment. Did I survive, or did I die? Who was the man in the black trench coat? Who were his comrades that fought to the bitter end and how did we survive the death of a thousand ashen corpses? The three of us, we were the only survivors. All motherless children, all wept in dismay as the world wept with us.

  The tragedy had been blamed on terrorists, bombs located down a closed off corridor, synchronized to destroy all that lay there. Our survival had been publicised as a miracle, an act of God. But I knew better. No matter how hard I’d hit my head, I’d seen them. I’d danced among the dying on the day of the dead. Halloween had come early that year, as the beast rose from the fiery pits of Hell with shadowed monsters and two-footed critters. I’d seen it all. Yet no one else could see them as the shadows tore us apart. I have a back full of scars to prove those monsters existed.

  It took a while for our recovery. Apparently, I was lucky to survive, having had surgery on part of my brain. The head injury I’d sustained had taken hold and I’d died in the ambulance for two minutes and six seconds. It doesn't seem like a long-time, but after not breathing for a minute your brain cells begin to perish, firing their last electrical impulses before turning out the lights. So, for any person, dying for two minutes and six seconds was quite a long while.

  After the surgery, the days turned into weeks, weeks into months. It took time to fully recover. I was a motherless child. My best friend had died the day of the subway disaster, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get those creatures out of my mind. They did this, those things killed my mum, and no one would believe me. Dad said enough was enough, I’d end up locked up if I kept saying those things. I swear I even saw the black trench coat guy at night, he visited me in my dreams. Yet I still couldn’t see his face.

  The days were long, not as if the nights weren't, as I watched the sunset out of the window, gazing down at the naïve society around me. They didn’t know, running around day after day doing the same thing over and over. They hardly ever looked up, too caught up in their own problems. The hospital was busy all the time. It was rare I got five minutes to myself. But at night the world went to sleep and they came out to play. The two-footed critters, chaotic little beasts. They appeared to enjoy the mischief. Pulling off your bedsheets, setting off alarms. The number of times a crash team ran in for a false alarm was beyond a joke now. Even if I tried to sleep, they kept me awake. They never hurt anyone, just liked to play around. There’s some of them out there now, kicking over the garbage cans and chewing through wires. No wonder the electricity board was kept busy, blaming rodents or the average schooled youth for the local mishaps.

  Sitting there as the shadows drew in close, I whimpered under my breath. It’s okay though, they haven’t come since. Haven’t found me here. The sight of the shadow monsters haunted my dreams. How was I supposed to ever sleep again? I didn't know. You’d think there would be loads around a hospital. After all, it’s a place full of the injured and dying. It was like something was keeping them away, holding them at bay. It wasn’t me. I hadn’t a clue how I’d made that light thing happen. It’s like I’d turned into an angel, blasting out the ray of God before I collapsed into the hands of darkness.

  Perhaps it was the guy in the black trench coat. I’d been lucky enough to see his piercing blue eyes deep within the shadows one night. I’m sure it was him, he felt the same. It’s hard to explain, I guess, but there was something about him, something that stood out. I dunno, maybe it was just me. Maybe the head injury really did do more than physical damage. After all, I could barely hold a fork without shaking.

  Night passed under his watch as I managed to get a few hours of sleep. I know he was there somewhere. Even the critters had left me alone. Maybe he was my guardian angel, that’s a thing apparently. According to Wiki, we all have one, even if you don’t believe. I wasn’t sure what I believed in. Not nowadays, anyway. I’d like to think there was somewhere glorious after we die. Mum would be there now, so I hope there is. There must be some good in this world, after all, there was a heck of a lot of bad.

  It was another day of physio. I believed the frustration would kill me if nothing else. I mean, how hard was it to grip a fork? Actually eat dinner by myself? Simple things weren’t half a task. Gritting my teeth, I tried to hold a fork in my left hand. I could do it, but it hurt, and I shook so much the food always flew off the damn thing anyway. Basic things I’d once taken for granted pained through me.

  Luckily Caleb and I were side by side in the ward. He didn’t remember much though, he never saw our mothers face as she lay lifeless in the rubble. Dad visited daily, updating us on the rebuild of the once flamboyant metropolitan area. Apparently, Mum's gallery had one last showing. Jane, her assistant, had set it up in her honour. Every single piece was purchased. She would have loved to have seen it, her name up there with the great artists of her time.

  Six months had gone by, and with summer threatening to break through, it was almost time to check out and leave the hospital. I was finally heading home, starting afresh once more. That’s when they came back, the shadowed beings. They appeared as a darkness within the light, shadows cast from nothing. Shimmering with a fogged effect in the light of the room, like the warped sense of heat over the top of the burning candle.

  I froze as they swarmed into the bay, floating above every person that walked by. No one saw them, just me. They knew I was there, as their rotted corpse-like figures titillated over my bed frame. There was nothing to fear when you couldn't see them, it just looked like a normal death; heart stops beating, lungs collapse, then flat-line, death. But when you can see them, see their ghastly structures as they grip your face and feed off the life force inside of you, eyes wide with fright
, body thrashing about. It’s an inhumane way to die, and that’s what was about to happen to the young boy opposite of me. I could tell. They were all crowded around, like pack animals hunting their prey, aiming for the one that couldn't fight back, the boy who just laid there watching as they drained him dry. Only a child, too.

  I lay frozen in fear as they skulked over to the boy, watching him. With eyes wide, fear overtook. Shaking, I wanted to pinch myself awake. The putrid beings crept across the base of the boy’s bed with a menacing demeanour, and with each movement they made, the mattress compacted from their weight. An alarming sense of panic sounded within me and I struggled to take a breath with the heavy nature of the air surrounding me. Tears filled my eyes as I saw the demonic talons of one of the shadowed beings wrap around the throat of the young boy. Reaching forward, it began to inhale his breath as the boy gasped and wheezed for air. The hospital monitors screamed and he fitted, with his arms and legs flailing about.

  The creature held on tight as a cohort of nurses and doctors rushed to the boy’s aid, but the boy had already passed on. As he did, the embodiment of the shadow creature came further into view. It resembled a leeching horror with a transparent darkness that swarmed through it.

  The necrotic creature flickered in and out of sight, as though it were travelling from realm to realm before my eyes. It grew long, bone-like fingers with sharpened claws that glistened and shone with a shimmer of silver. Its face was indistinguishable, covered with a smokescreen of moving blackened energy. Its mouth was large with dark fanged teeth and its blaring soulless eyes choked you from reality.

  That’s when they took me. That’s when I disappeared.

  Waking up in another room is scary. But when that rooms pitch black, stinks of wee, and there are screams emanating from outside, you cry. That’s where I was, in the dark, in the shadow, in the night. I’m not sure how I got there, or how long I’d been out. I remember the boy’s death and the shadow monsters creeping around, but nothing after that. Where was I?

  Gulping, I tried to raise my arms, pull myself off the bed. Nothing moved. Thrashing about, I could tell my wrists and ankles were restrained. I was vulnerable, the perfect target, and no matter how much I screamed, no one came. I doubt they’d heard my screams anyway, not with the commotion outside.

  Being a part of the darkness is frightening. What had taken me? Heart thumping, my hairs stood on end. There was something in there with me. Panic screamed through me as I pulled with all my might. It was there. Something close. Something near. At first, it sounded like a rustle of clothing. Here’s me hoping it was human! Still, even human beings have their nasty sides. Then came the footsteps, silent at first, one, two, maybe three. Reaching closer. Then the scent, the smell of aftershave with a woody base and hints of sandalwood drifting across the room. It was familiar, yet I couldn’t tell from where. My dad didn’t wear that, his always smelt of leather. Caleb, well, he was too young. So, who was it?

  I stopped crying, calmed my screaming and listened. Hoping to hear anymore movements, any responses.

  “Hello?” I called out, afraid of the answer. “Hello?”

  Still nothing.

  The floor creaked.

  “Hello?” I paused. “I know you’re there.”

  Still nothing.

  “Where am I? Please, I don’t know who you are, but can you help me?”

  Light streamed through the door as it flung open.

  “Who you talking to?” a gruff voice boomed.

  A fat grisly old guy with white scrubs walked into the room. His keychain dangled, jingling as he walked. Reaching me, he loosened the straps, removing them one by one. The light shone through, illuminating the bare room I lay in; just a bed, a toilet, and the sink. It was like a prison cell. What did they think I had done? Dropping the straps on the floor, he backed out slowly.

  “There, now, no more trouble otherwise they’ll be back on.”

  “Where am I?”

  “Psych with the loons,” he laughed as he slammed the door shut, locking it as he left.

  Psych? Why was I locked in a psych ward? I didn't remember anything that could result in me being locked in there. I didn’t dare to get off the bed. I knew someone had followed me there, someone or something. Cradling my pillow, I wept. What was happening to me?

  I must have fallen asleep, as the next thing I remember was being pulled upright on the bed. Why was I so drowsy? What drugs had they put me on?

  Breakfast was delivered, if that’s what you would call it. Cold, sticky slop next to a round of burnt toast. Oh, what I’d give for my mum’s pancakes right now! The spoon was plastic, clearly I wasn’t trusted with anything normal anymore. Even the fat, grisly guy watched like a hawk as I picked it up. I mean, how much damage could one girl do with a plastic spoon?

  The days rolled by as I sat alone in my cell. Visitors weren’t allowed but I know the guy in the black trench coat stopped by, hiding among the shadows. There was no way of contacting my dad or Caleb. Was Caleb alright? I shuddered. After all, he lay amongst the monsters that day.

  Then, on day eight, the door opened, remained open as the old grisly guy said I had a visitor. I thought visitors weren’t allowed, but heck, I wasn’t going to argue. In walked Dad, red-eyed, tired looking, and he had lost a ton of weight. How long had I really been there?

  “Taylor!” he cried, hugging me with his big bear hug.

  “Dad!” I wept, salty tears stung my eyes.

  “What happened? Where’s Caleb? Where am I?”

  “Shush now, honey, it’ll be okay,” he said, “don’t you remember what happened?”

  “No, nothing.”

  “It’s okay, you’re safe now,” he hushed me.

  “But why have I been locked in here this week?” I cried.

  “Week? You’ve been here for months, Taylor. What have they put you on?”

  “Months!”

  He nodded.

  “What happened?”

  “The doc said it’d help if I told you.”

  “Erm, okay...”

  “The day that boy died, you destroyed the ward, baby. You wouldn’t let anyone near Caleb, not even me. You said they were coming. You even threatened the nurse with the drug stand.”

  “What?”

  “Security came, you put up so much of a fight that they had to sedate you. I couldn’t stop them. I’ve been fighting to see you ever since. Had to go to the courts to get access.”

  “Is Caleb alright?” I asked.

  “Yeah, he’s fine. Are you alright?”

  “No, I wanna to go home.”

  “There is nothing I want more than to have you and Caleb home again. I’ve been thinking, a change of scenery would do us all the world of good. I’m going to sell up, sweetie, and move us back to where your mum grew up. She would have wanted you to be there. You’ll be safe there.”

  “Okay,” I croaked. It was all too much as I lay snuggled in my dad’s arms. Finally sleeping safely, soundly, and securely.

  Chapter 3

  A fresh start, they said. I needed it too, after what they’d put me through, and yet there I sat, finally alone and amid one of the darkest nights on Earth. Shuddering silently; the bitter breeze of winter's reign flowed through the open window. Street lights glazed the sky. I sat wrapped in my mother’s old blanket, heart aching as the familiar scent of her perfume stirred around me.

  Tiredness was a feeling I’d grown up with, emptiness was one I’d learned. I used to feel so attached to life, all bright and bubbly. The typical 17-year-old eyeing up the guys on the basketball team. I was a fan of the old romance novels, always dreaming of that one true love. But life wasn’t like that. I was taken so young, murdered by many. What was it that took me? It was a question that lay unanswered as my sodden cheeks stung from the arctic breeze of the North winds.

  Outside the leaves swirled, creating a flurry of a pattern, like a kaleidoscope shimmering in the grass below. It was a pretty picture, but one that brought
warning to those that knew, and I knew... or did I? What really happened the day I died?

  My life had taken a different path, one that caused me to mature to an age most teenagers wouldn’t dream of. My venomous past always crept up on me, a tragic flow of events that took my innocence away as I passed over to the realm of the dead. But now I lived, alive and pained by the memories of that tragic day in London.

  The day we moved to the little town of Elvington, it rained. Poured down, actually. Our new country home didn’t look anything like the brochure. Instead, we were greeted with the keys to a dilapidated stone build. It was a step down from the penthouse back in London, but it was ours. Apparently, my mother had grown up in the area. It was nice to be close to some part of her, yet far enough away to move on and move forward.

  My younger brother, Caleb, had picked up a lot since the move, but every so often his breathing became erratic as he cuddled his tear-stained pillow. That morning, though, the familiarity of my father’s snoring echoed through the hallway, bringing light to the darkest of days.

  Rising with the sunlight I smiled. Put on that brave face Taylor, Mum used to say, no matter how sad you are, a smile changes everything, and she was right. Even the mirror agreed as I shone it a toothy grin. My tired smile greeted me as I brushed through my chestnut hair. It took a while to ease out the knotted bird's nest. But with a little moisturiser and strawberry lip gloss, I began to feel human again.

  Breakfast filled a hole; a splash of orange juice with charcoaled pancakes. My dad tried, but he couldn’t replace her. We had lived there for a month, using the break to straighten the house. It was all quite respectable. We had fixed it up quite well, for saying we didn’t have any builders in the family. It was good though, the time together, the bonding.

  Footsteps pounded across the landing as Caleb ran, tugging on his trousers. He flew down the stairs, inhaled his breakfast, ready for our first day at a new school. We had already missed a term that year and now that winter was settling in, the next semester was due to start. It was as good a time as any to get back into it. A bit of routine and normality never hurt anyone. Anxiety crept through me, though, that feeling when you’re sick to your stomach, nerves kicking in. I used to be so popular, one of the ‘it’ girls. But now I struggled to find my own voice half the time. "It will do us good," Dad kept saying. Mum would have agreed. We needed this, needed to move on, let go.