| Termites.; The Stuff of Nightmares | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: May 19 2016, 05:46 PM (33 Views) | |
| Maggie McIntyre | May 19 2016, 05:46 PM Post #1 |
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The Banshee of HATE
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This place was as creepy as Mike had described it. Maggie McIntyre stood alone, standing up at the monstrous, decrepit sign marking her arrival in Nothing, Arizona. Home of The Stranger. His home. The desert floor burned her bare feet. She was vaguely aware she was dreaming - after all, why else would she be wearing her purple negligee? She often wore it in her dreams. Dreams that soon became nightmares. She was powerless to stop it, though. She could call out at the top of her lungs, but no one would hear her, not in this dream or any other. Her dreams belonged to The Stranger now, and he would not allow her peace. Only torment. She closed her eyes, a trick her aunt had once taught her. "Close your eyes, Margaret, and count to five. When you open them, the bad things will be gone." "One." "Two." "Three." "Four." "Five." She opened her eyes. Her aunt was wrong. An old man sat on top of the sign marking this dreadful place, his legs dangling perilously over the edge. He was clad in a soot-colored robe. His eyes were milky white, clouded over - she could see that detail even from where she stood, some twenty five feet below him. He spoke, a booming voice that didn't seem to belong to the body it came from. "The Stranger draws closer, child. He awaits you. Go to him. GO!" The old man raised a bony arm, pointing to something behind her. The rookie turned, hearing the tendons in her neck creak as she did. An old building stood behind her. The wood was rotting, graffiti covered the surface, and all of the windows were boarded up. Except the doorway. Mike said the door was boarded. She specifically remembered that, remembered wondering what terrors lay in the darkness behind the boarded door as she listened to his haunting tale of his experience that afternoon. This door was not boarded. A black, gaping entryway beckoned her, with two figures standing on each side of it, also adorned in soot-colored robes. It was as if someone had started a fire, and given the ash a sustainable form to mold their attire from. She wanted to be nowhere near that place. It was wrong, everything about it. Yet her legs began to draw her closer, as if she were walking in a trance. She could feel the cold sweat on her brow, despite the blazing Arizona desert heat. The two figures in the robes simultaneously reached up, removing the hoods. William West - better known as Lunatikk Crippler - and NOTHING. The Stranger's new...associates. "He awaits." Go to him." She opened her mouth to cry out, to tell these two freaks that she would do no such thing. That she would run as far as she could, into the arms of Mike, and escape this madness. No words came out. She entered the darkness. It was as though she were in a sensory deprivation tank. The building was as black as night. No sound escaped from it, even though the wind had been blowing outside moments ago. She smelled nothing. Her hands stretched out in front of her, she stumbled forward aimlessly. And she heard it, all at once. A rattling sound. She froze, turning her head. The entrance to the building was no longer visible. Something began to slide across her leg, coiling around it, slowly moving upward. She opened her mouth to scream... ...and all at once, she felt him. A hand, cold as ice, on her thigh. His hot breath against her ear. His tongue, impossibly dry and frigid, snaking back and forth against her ear. The Stranger. Indrid Calder. "Come with me, my dear. Come into the darkness." His hand slowly moved up her thigh. She squirmed and writhed in his clutches, but it was no use. His hand continued upward, on a mission of its own. "I want you, Maggie. It's time." She screamed a silent scream of terror as he grabbed her with the other arm, pulling her down to the concrete floor. The thing coiled around her leg slithered its way to her other ankle, while Calder's hand drifted upward, ever so slowly, leaving a trail of coldness in its wake. As she lay there, caught in the throes of the Stranger, she realized with a sudden horrific thought that part of her was welcoming this. Anticipating it...and wanting it. She began to cry, her sobs mixed in with a rambling babble of words. "stop please Indrid please i'll do anything oh don't stop come closer please no more stop stop stop don't stop do it please no oh god no yes yes no ye--" She awoke at once with a blood curdling scream. Her heart racing a mile a minute, the blankets falling from her form as she shot up from her spot on the couch. Michael Draven came shooting in a moment later, still in the boxers he’d fallen asleep in and knelt beside her. Strong arms wrapped around Maggie, holding her still and kissing the very crown of her sable hair. As Battlelines grew closer, her night terrors were getting worse and still, she insisted on sleeping on the couch. Maggie didn’t want to wake him up in the middle of the night because of images her brain made. He didn’t want to argue again that he would wake up anyway to her screaming. “Shhhh. I’m here.” She was shivering in his grip. And it was only going to get worse as Battlelines approached. “It’s alright, I’m here.” The rookie closed her eyes, letting out a groan as she held her head. Even the medication wasn’t working anymore. It was as if Calder had come to her in the night and planted a piece of himself inside of her brain, like a termite...chewing a path through the tissue and leaving holes for the rest of him to slither through. Maggie pushed herself up and out of her boyfriend’s embrace, nearly tripping over one of the many packed boxes scattered throughout the room. She cursed quietly, going for the bar...and the bottle of whiskey there. It was really the only thing that made her brain shut up. “I can’t take this shit anymore, Mike. This one was worse than the last one.” “Have you thought about seeing a sleep specialist? Maybe…” He trailed off. The truth is, he didn’t know what to suggest, short of her leaving the business. And even then, he wasn’t convinced the nightmares would stop. Calder had squirmed into her very psyche. “I want to help, I just...I’m at a loss.” Maggie threw back a shot of the Jameson’s and grimaced, not anticipating the taste this late at night. “The only thing they would do is just prescribe more medication, like the therapist did.” She sighed, knowing that he just wanted to see her safe and happy. Calder was like a cancer, eating at her from the inside out. “How did the bastard even get in my apartment? I mean, I know we moved my stuff here for my safety, but...I didn’t anticipate moving in with you after we’ve barely been dating for six months.” “I can check into a hotel, or something...or get you a room? I don’t mind…” He just wanted her to feel safe. Hollow words - he knew that wasn’t going to happen. Not as long as this infatuation Calder had developed with her was going on. “No, I don’t want you to have to do that. You have enough to worry about with Haven, let alone my stupid nightmares over the boogeyman.” Maggie knocked back another shot before grabbing his hand and leading him back to the bedroom. She was going to Albany in the morning, picking up some things from her cousin’s house. Her grandmother was ill and she was moving into assisted living, though she hadn’t told Mike that part. There was enough to worry about and honestly, given the treatment over the holidays, Maggie didn’t have a lot of love for the old bat right now. “Come on, go back to bed.” She was faking this calm, it was easy enough to tell. Pretend you’re okay and eventually you will be. The rookie climbed up onto the large bed and pulled him under the covers with her. “I’ll try to sleep in here for a bit before I take off.” “You know I can tell you’re bullshitting me, right?” He smiled at her, kissing her forehead. “Seriously, if there’s anything I can do, name it. You know I’m going to be at ringside, at the very least.” “Can we hire someone to drug his drink and let him wake up naked in the middle of the Mexican desert?” Her question made him laugh, she often deflected such things with a bit of humor. Still, his arms around her were welcome enough comfort. Maggie was exhausted, sleeping so little the last month and she...she just wanted some little bit of peace. Despite his obsessions, she normally found it here. In Mike’s arms. “I’ll tell my cousin you said hello and you’re taking good care of me. She doesn’t let the kids watch anymore, not after Mexico City. Now you go to sleep, or I’ll knee you in the ribs.” He laughed. “That sounds like a threat...I wouldn’t want you attacking me, now. Alright, deal. Off to sleep I go.” They both knew that was a lie. But it comforted her all the same. Edited by Gates, May 20 2016, 08:21 AM.
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10:52 AM Jul 11