A Darker Flame

By J. Collin Huber

Smoke. The vague yet pungent smell began to line his nostrils in a most repulsive way startling him from unconscious rest. He awoke in panic, wondering what electronic device was burning down his humble domain. Jerking his head from his pillow, he pulled himself out of bed. His feet were cold as they planted themselves on the hard wood floor of his bedroom mainly because he had kicked off his warm silk sheets during yet another restless night of sleep.

Waking up at this hour was not unusual for him, but something felt strangely different tonight. It seemed darker than usual and the smell of smoke seeping into his bedroom - that was a first. His hands stumbled around his nightstand, clumsily knocking off his crucifix necklace, loose change, and alarm clock as his fingers searched for the lamp. Click. He didn’t even have to hear the noise. The sting of the light on his sleepy eyes convinced him he had found it.

Now to find what was burning. Quickly grabbing his robe and slippers, he hurried toward the bedroom door to begin the search. It was closed. He never closed his door. Sounds from outside were much more difficult to hear with it shut. Adding to the mystery of the moment, a thin layer of grey smoke slithered its way under his door. A sense of dread stabbed at his spine like an uncomfortable needle at an unwanted doctor visit. This didn’t look good.

He grabbed the doorknob and turned. It was hot. Too hot. The smell of burning flesh quickly mixed with the smoke. He screamed in pain. The skin on his palm had loosened and left a quite visible red mark that hurt worse than it looked. He had to locate this fire. Stepping out of his bedroom, he was relieved to find that his house was still intact. Nothing seemed to be burning and the smoke that was crawling under his door had all but vanished. Strange. Everything remained exactly the way he left it. His flat screen TV sat high in his entertainment center, demanding attention, his white carpet was unmarked by mud, dust, or fire; the furniture hadn’t moved an inch. It was all the same.

As he prolonged his investigation, the pain from his burned hand reminded him that it was still there with some quite brutal pulsing, so he decided ice would be a helpful remedy. Making his way toward the kitchen, he passed the front door. One last safety instinct slipped through his mind and as he turned toward the door, he saw grey smoke slip under the crack between the bottom of the door and the floor. It was real. And it was taunting him; begging him to take a look. That same needle dread injected his spine yet again, begging him not to take a look. Slowly, he moved toward the door, not sure what to expect when he opened it. He reached for the knob, this time making sure it would not melt his flesh. It was quite cool so he grabbed it and turned.

As a criminal investigator, Toren Wilkes had witnessed a lot of terrible things. His immunity to surprise was quite strong. Gruesome murders, bloody images, nightmarish memories; they were all part of his everyday life. But what he saw when he opened his front door almost brought him to his knees. Utter helplessness washed over him like a tidal wave. His knees began to quiver and he wouldn’t have been surprised if his heart had all but quit beating. Armageddon had come. He stared out at the cozy neighborhood he had come to know so well. It now lay in complete ruin. A blood red color streaked through the sky but oddly enough, the sun was not the source. Fire rose from every crack and crevice, burning rubble had thrown itself as far as the eye could see, houses had been leveled, and the corpses of his neighbors and friends were strewn across the street, reduced to litter.

Everything inside of him wanted to scream but the sight had captured his ability to speak. How could this have happened without him knowing? How could he not have heard this? His neighborhood, his neighbors, his friends were all...gone. Everything was gone; everything but him and his house and all of his possessions.

As he continued to stare in awe at this apocalyptic nightmare, one particular sight captured his complete attention. Where the large, dignified Baptist church used to stand was a recently erected jagged, rocky, burning mountain. It stood high and powerful, emitting an atmosphere of utmost evil and seemingly commanding the fire to burn with passion and ill mercy. His eyes climbed to the top where they stopped short on the very distinct silhouette of a grotesque looking being. This thing was not human.

He stepped off of his porch and walked several feet to get a better look.

Its fists were raised, piercing the sky in a sense of victory. Horns jutted from the top of its head also extending skyward. Defined muscles covered its body, stretching its dark, scaly skin and enormous wings were curled up behind its massive frame. Above all intimidating aspects, two horrific red eyes pierced the night, blazing with a treacherous fire all of their own.

Just as suddenly as Toren noticed those eyes, they quickly lost all interest in the desolation they were celebrating over and directed their gaze right back into the lone survivor’s stare. That needle dread in his spine immediately felt more like a cannonball through his abdomen. He wanted to run back to his bed and pull the sheets over his head to hide the fear until he fell asleep just like he did as a kid.

Those eyes continued to stare at him, feeding off of his fear. The burning gaze was followed by a sudden pearly white smile that crept across the monster’s face. In fear, Toren took a few steps back toward his house.

The wings of the monster shot out. A few more steps back.

The devilish being flew into the sky and bolted straight toward his position. Wilkes ran, hard. If he could just make it back in the house, everything would be alright. Though that idea was completely absurd, he was beginning to lose ground and his home was the only shelter he had left. The monster was closing in. Toren could almost feel those razor sharp teeth sinking into his flesh. Nothing else mattered at this point; not the destruction, not the deceased, not the desolation, only his survival.

Finally, his feet found their way back into his home followed closely by the winged monster. He had to get the door shut! His hand grabbed hold of the doorknob and pulled it shut.

Bam! The door swung towards closure only to find the demon’s hand grabbing the frame and blocking its way. Toren pressed hard against the door. The beast pushed back. This thing could not be allowed to get inside. The fiend’s strength was beginning to overcome him. Toren punched at the monster’s hand to try and get it out of the doorway. It pushed back even harder.

“Oh God!” screamed Wilkes.

As if something had fatally wounded the monster, it jerked its hand out of the doorframe and ceased its fight. The door slammed shut under Toren’s push and he locked it with panic filled precision. It was over. He was safe now. His body slid into a sitting position against the door, weakened from fear and exhaustion. What had just happened? What in the world was that thing? He had never felt so much fear in his life.

Gravel crunched outside his weakened door.

The creature wasn’t gone; it was stalking him from outside. Toren stood. The demon growled. Toren backed away from the door. Then, piercing the silence in ear-splitting fashion, the monster let out a horrendous scream, shattering the windows, cracking the floor, and tearing the door from its hinges. Fire burst into his house leading the way for the monster as it bolted toward him with nothing but murder in its eyes. Toren was helpless. This was it. He was going to die. It was...

Over. Toren awoke with a startle. He was in his bed, soaked in sweat. It had all been a dream. He leaned over and looked out the window. The neighborhood was still intact, the houses were standing, and his neighbors were sleeping. Reaching to the other side of his bed, he turned on the lamp, more efficiently this time. His door was open, his alarm clock lay on the desk along with his loose change. But where was his...

Looking down, he stared at his open hand. There lay the crucifix necklace.