November 17, 2017 Elijah Ogidi-Olu 0 Comments

Hail Mary, full of grace, the lord is with thee; blessed art thou amongst 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. Amen!

I stood up, dragged out the little box from under my bed, and jacked it open. The revolver lay still in there, reflecting the little moonlight that penetrated into the room. I checked the little black pouch containing the bullets, and they were intact – Perfect! I dislodged the chamber and seeded the bullets into it, spinning it shut, just as soon as I was done.

This ends now!

I exited the room to the realization that everywhere was pitch-black. I hadn’t noticed how dark it was, as I had scrambled my way up earlier, locking my room shut as soon as I jumped up the stairs. I began descending the stairs, one slow step after the other. I had a torch in one hand, and a revolver in another. My heart beat so fast, it scared me. I could literally feel blood flow through my veins.

“Baam!” something fell from the ceiling.

The loud thud made me miss a step, and I came sliding down the stairs on my back. I winced in pain as a broken piece of wood sliced through the left side of my lower back. I was now bleeding on my right leg, my right temple and my back, but that was the least of my worries. I scrambled for my torch, and immediately pointed it towards the direction of what fell from the ceiling.

“Sarah! Oh my God!” I shrieked at the sight of what was staring at me. Her eyes looked blank and reflective. Half of her neck was viciously ripped off; her left hand was missing. Even though she was covered in a pool of blood, I could see that she was eviscerated. I couldn’t tell if it was just me, or her intestines looked like they were still moving.

Something moved quickly across the ceiling.

“MARY?!!” I yelled as I tried to follow the movement with the light from my torch. I couldn’t catch up. I knew whatever that was, crawling on the ceiling, wasn’t Mary. Abigail had found the golden, ancient looking cross this morning on the farm. It looked like it had been there for decades. She had suddenly developed an abnormal affection towards it all morning.

By mid-day, she had begun behaving strangely, cuddling the cross and talking to it. By evening, Sarah and Mary tried separating their mum from her discovery, only to realize how pale she looked, and her eyeballs were totally black. Something had taken over Abigail. She attacked our daughters, and it took their courage, and stab of wood to the head for her to let go of Mary’s throat.

One way or the other, Mary had touched the cross, and was cursed too. She had hit me on the head with a goblet as I tried to wrestle Sarah from her grasp, and scratched my right leg, as I bolted for the revolver in my room. I’ll be calling the Priest tomorrow morning, but I’ve got to survive this night first. Whatever it ta…

…Mary jumped out of nowhere!

She grabbed my throat, shouting wildly as she continuously tried to gnaw at my face. Her face was covered with blood, her jaw was missing, and her tongue was so long, it flapped against the back of my neck. Both my torch and revolver had fallen. Air stuck in my throat, and my lungs began to expand. I fought her off, with every ounce of strength in me.

She was inhumanely strong.

I was feeling faint already. In one instant, as I was backing up against the wall, I stepped on Sarah’s blood, slipped, and fell. She almost took a big bite of my face, but I quickly turned away. There it was! Reflecting sympathetically, the last ray of hope I had of making it out of my house alive. I grabbed the revolver, and just as I did, Mary bit my left ear off. I screamed.

I pointed the muzzle in between the black holes that used to be her eyes.

“Forgive me Mary!” I whispered as I pulled back the hammer, and squeezed the trigger.

Mature Minds Talk.

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