Voices

By: Rent Lover

She woke with a start. The evening's haunting sounds of the wind and the storm cornered her in the bowels of her mind. They were calling to her in a vastly horrifying manner that was considered bemusing. Everything seemed fine. Fine indeed…or so she thought. I must need a glass of water, she thought as she took a deep breath and rolled out of bed. After lighting the candle by her bedside, she took a slow, fearful step. The hallway, usually warm and inviting, wasn't as exuberant as it was in the safety of daylight. No, the hallway was encrusted with shadows; shadows of the past, present, and the unwritten future.

A deep concern swelled within. And her soul became one with the darkness that consumed her in the demonic moment. It was for the greater good, my actions; she thought though her immoral soul told her otherwise and her fevered mind wouldn't listen to the truth. "It was just a simple spill of 'red ink'," she whispered to no one in her native French. 'You lie…' whispered an unholy voice. The woman nearly fell down the steps at that "Who's there? Whose voice is that?" She dismissed the incident from her mind, thinking that it was only something she had ate for supper hours ago, which may as well seemed like a lifetime at the very moment.

As she entered the kitchen to fetch a glass of water for herself, the disembodied voice came once again with 'You lie…' once more. At this, she dropped the glass and the shattered glass was the only noise within the whole house. "Who's there?" she called out to the dreaded darkness. She picked up the broken glass and poured herself another glass of the refreshing liquid. But as she took a sip, she spat it back out to find that it turned to dust in her mouth. She tried to take another sip but it turned to blood that time. She spat it out and dared to take another sip, which resulted in a mouthful of blood once more.

"What is this blasphemy?" she whispered to herself, this time she was slightly shaking in disgust for what she had almost consumed. 'You lie…' Grabbing the candle, she started making her way to the staircase…until the candle blew out. She was without a match and was scared paralyzed for she hated the dark. A flash of lightening, and there was a figure. Shadows looked as though they were the workers of Satan himself. Holding the rosary around her neck tightly in her dainty hand, she started to say the Lord's Prayer as quickly as she could.

Another flash, and there was the curious figure again. She started shaking harder and heavier. She still continued to pray for it to stop. "Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven…" But again, that did not stop the voice. 'I've been waiting for you…' She started to pant fast and rigidly as the voice came nearer. 'I've been waiting for you…' And yet she continued.

The windows then opened. The cold sweat started to soak her profusely. She as she continued to counter the 'curse', she felt something ooze off her hands. 'Red ink…' And indeed it was the 'red ink' she had admitted to spilling earlier. "Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death…" The doors opened just then and along came shadows. The wind warped her within the rush and the smell of Death then seeped into her once humble home. 'Revenge…revenge…revenge!'

"NO!!" cried she. She then started pulling at her hair crazily, not caring that the red stuff was in her hair. She felt cold and clammy. Her crisp white nightgown was stained and then she too, smelt of death.

A powerful force then forced her to the wall. Out of nowhere, a familiar object was then flung into the wall, covered with blood. It missed her head by an inch. "Oh God, help me!" No matter how hard the woman tried, she couldn't move from her spot, for she was too frightened to do so and an unknown force was holding her back from escape. 'How are you this evening, my love?' again therecame the demonic voice from all corners of the room. Trying to be as courageous and noble as she could, she rasped out, "Who are you?" A cruel, heartless chuckle echoed throughout the room. 'Why, love, I have known you for ten years – and this is the hello I get after all this time?' Before she could even rasp another sound out, she nearly fainted at the sight before her very eyes.

He was paler than the moon, his skin. He was skinny and sickly. His hair was as grey and greasy as the night the event had happened. He was still as tall as he was in life and his beautiful green-grey eyes were now a blood shot red. "No…it can't be. You've been dead for ten years! Has this world gone mad?!" She tried to bolt away, but he was twice as fast. He had her pinned to the wall. "It's not possible," she said while struggling, "your kind does not exist! You're not real!" The woman fought the best way he could but his grip was stronger. 'And now, for my revenge,' His cold, thin lips were then pressed forcefully upon her and she screamed a bloodcurdling scream that no one could hear for miles away. As that kiss continued, she felt all the pain in the world come at her at once and then…blackness.

The next morning, the police were at the tiny house of the young woman. There they found a most gruesome sight imaginable. The woman's hair had streaks of white in her once rave hair. Her face was flushed. She was panting heavily, and the red liquid from the night before was dried and looked at though she was burned. Her nightgown looked as though it was indeed a most terrible occurrence of Heaven and Hell. She was also speaking gibberish. "Mademoiselle," an officer said sternly to her, "Could you kindly tell us what had happened here?" His response from her was a cold look from her dark black eyes.

"Monsieur Gustave, do you know what Hell is like? Do you know what he had done to me? Do you not see the knife in the wall? Do you not know that I was the one who murdered Don Jose Philippe? YES! I did it! I stabbed Don Jose Philippe thirty three times in the chest! I spilt his blood! I did it! I did it! I DID IT!!!" With his orders taken at once, the woman was sent to the Mental Hospital in Blois, where the poor woman was then unfortunately forced to live the rest of her miserable life in a world of insanity due to the murder of her husband, Don Jose Philippe. She called his name out every night from the nightmare of that night, and that terrible nightmare still haunts her today, for his voice had never left her and tortured her for the rest of her living life…

FIN