Shadows of Evil: Shadows, #3

Introduction

Horror writing is a strange balance for me.

I mean, I don’t think I fully grasp it as much as legendary writers do, but I recognize many of the elements. The build-up and the delivery are the most obvious, but the unique feeling of each horror story is something else.

In many cases, that feeling trumps the build-up and the delivery.

And timing! Certain horror stories are uniquely terrifying when the timing is right. If it’s a horror story about loss when you’re worried about losing something, or someone, it grips the heart in an icy fist. Or the classic intruder horror story when you’re home alone. The sheer thought of it coupled with matching build-up and delivery...

Did you lock your door? Good.

I see these elements, those within my control and those that are not. The only thing I can do to maximize the effectiveness of my stories nowadays is to find what scares me the most as I write them and hope that those out there can sense that feeling and immerse themselves in it.

In short, the world is a scary place, life is scary...any terrible event can happen when you least expect it. I hope you’ll never be as vulnerable as those in my stories.

I also hope you enjoy this collection of stories and if you want more thrilling content, be sure to check out The AURORA Files, or support my work on Patreon for bonus content and free books.

Happy sleepless nights!

Matthew Dewey

Hell is Being Renovated

I have no recollection of my life before death.

I visit the accident site often though. I was riding a motorcycle, the road was wet, a stop sign was involved, and...that was it. Dead. Cold and ready to be wrapped up for eternal rest beneath six feet of dirt. That was left to my sister, my last living relative, who worked quickly.

Yet, before my body could be ‘prepared’ by a mortician, my heart started beating. I groaned, then yelled, and was soon breathing fresh air. A miracle that scared the daylights out of the mortician's assistant who just walked in that morning to find a naked woman walking around the lobby.

A few more minutes and I would have been sliced open and pumped with chemicals.

My sister, Julia, collected me and took me home. She was freaked out and I couldn’t blame her. She was tightlipped at first, then told me everything that had happened...including who she was to me. Eventually, she was just crying her eyes out as she guided me into her home.

All I could do was nod over a cup of tea she gave me as she told me how my life had ended.

Are...are you sure you’re okay? my sister asked.

I feel okay, I told her. But, I don’t know you.

It’s me, Julia, your sister.

You said that, but it doesn’t evoke any memory. Are you sure I am your sister?

Yes...although, you talk a little differently. You always spoke quickly, and always fidgeted...it's like you were a shark, always moving. Right now, you’re so calm it’s like you’re a different person. Still, not as calm as you were yesterday.

Julia showed me pictures. It was proof enough for me and we got to know each other for the first time all over again. I like Julia, but I can tell that she is unsure of me. Sometimes she smiles at me and it disappears. I know she is smiling more at memory than at who I am now, but I can’t help that. She is kind enough to understand that.

Yet, it’s not my past that concerns me.

While I was dead for three days, I was not swimming in an ocean of nothing. I was not a thoughtless wisp lost in a void, encompassing yet being surrounded by darkness. I continued to exist and exist in torment.

I found myself walking through beautiful land. Mountains and trees, and warm heat from the inky sky provided me with some comfort as I trudged ever onwards. That is my earliest memory, yet, I can’t tell you where I came from or where I was going. Only that my journey was interrupted by the screaming of children.

I stopped, my bare feet being warmed by the sand. From the bushes came a troop of children, at least twenty, everyone looking younger than ten years old. Their screams shocked me at first, but I saw they were smiling as they ran across the path and back into the forest. The screams petered out into giggles and as those faded, I took stock of the land I was in.

The trees and land were yellowy-green, dry, yet not dead. The path was a fine hot sand that seemed out of place as if laid out purposefully to cut a path through the forest. These were the most normal elements, but the sky itself was unlike anything I had seen. Black as night, but not. There weren’t any stars or a moon, but there was a sun. One much larger and hotter than the one I see now when I look out the window.

As I grew more conscious of my existence, the pain slowly settled in.

My feet weren’t growing used to the path, yet, I didn’t dare walk off it into the shadow of the trees. Something forced me to stay on the path, the warmth of which made it shimmer. When I decided it was time to keep moving, my body continued down the path, winding its way beyond the horizon I could see. I was going to walk until I reached that horizon, even if I never did.

I did not walk alone.

A tall man walked beside me, yet, unlike me, he had clothes. White robes flowed over his form like that of an ancient Greek philosopher. When I raised my eyes, I saw that he was looking at me. These piercing gray eyes glared at me as if looking at a bug meant to be squished, but that too disgusted him.

What’s wrong? I asked the first words I breathed since my journey began. My throat croaked the words - it hurt to speak.

Why are you here? he said. It isn’t ready yet...you shouldn’t be here - not like this.

The words he spoke were angry, accusatory...but there wasn’t malice. It was like I had spoiled an important plot point for him and he wanted to know why I could be so cruel. I was an annoyance, not a threat.

I don’t know, I told him. I’m going that way, staying on the path...that’s all I want to do.

I know that, but it is not ready. You will reach the end and then what?

I don't-

I know you don’t know, he snapped.

The man faced ahead as we walked. He raised his head and rubbed the side of his head, pushing fingers into his dark wavy hair. All the while his face continued to wear the expression of loathing. It made his otherwise handsome face quite repulsive.

Yet, I noticed something. A slight twitch as he narrowed his eyes and every time it twitched, the world seemed to tremble. Looking around, I saw trees fall and others rise. It was always just above the treeline, the trees and foliage beside me blocking the view of what was going on.

I heard his lips part, I saw him bear his teeth, clenched as if in murderous rage and my heart shriveled up into a tiny ball. I felt like an inanimate object. Like my mind's vision of myself had changed and I dared not look at myself to see how different I was.

I watch mountains fall and rise. I heard screaming, but not the screaming of children. The sun in the black sky began to fade and the land was dark. The sand path ahead of me cracked and I stopped walking.

Watching it separate made my stomach lurch. The earth, the dirt, it separated like flesh. Tears appeared, then it began to shred, until only a few strings of earth skin held on over a canyon of gore. To my greatest disgust, this was not a land made of living matter, it was a land made of living people.

The screams came from the canyon itself, those that still lived, those that had survived the pain of being ripped apart and not only suffered in agony.

So much wasted time, the man said. I will have to start again.

I told my body to turn around, to walk away - run, if possible.

You can’t, the man said, stepping in front of me. You will wait here until the waterfall reaches you and then walk through it.

When he stood in front of me, a cold air seemed to drift over me. That coldness made me realize my cheeks were wet. I had been crying all this time and as I tried to speak, I could hear my heart and mind beg me not to.

What’s happening to me? I asked, gasping as if I was sobbing. My eyes widened as I saw tears run down his cheeks in reply, but these were not tears of sadness or pity. What’s going on? Where am I?

Such a waste of suffering, he said. You aren’t meant to be here yet and not on the path I tread. Those you have killed were not meant to die by your hands. They are meant to be crushed beneath the feet of my children.

Crushed...

I lowered my eyes to the path. Where I had stepped there were red footprints. Suddenly, every step was sickening. A soft sound accompanied by a burning feeling. A familiar warmth of life. I lowered myself to get a closer look and saw that every grain of sand was a person. Some were clinging to my skin, climbing higher, but growing weak and falling. I could see them flail - that’s what made the path shimmer.

In disgusted instinct, as if they were ants, I brushed them off and instantly regretted it as they painted red along my pale skin. My heart sank for the last time and it felt like it would never rise again.

When I looked up, I saw the man return to the forest, towards the sound of giggling children. The bottom of his white robes soaked in red. When I looked straight ahead, I saw the waterfall at the end of the path.

Upon seeing it, my body acted without command and I walked towards the crashing waters. I didn’t want to think about what I walked on, but I couldn’t help it. My pain, my gasping sobs, were making me shake and convulse in horror and sadness.

I welcomed the cold waters that washed them away, that cleaned the blood from my feet and hands. That first breath of air once I had awoken was a welcome one. Even if the air had a medical tinge, even if my skin stuck uncomfortably to the metal table, it was a blessing.

Now that I am among the living, given a second chance, I can’t find it in myself to take full advantage of it. I can’t stop thinking about death. Whether there will be another strange oversight, or if I will be placed exactly where I am supposed to be.

I fear the sound of screaming and giggling children. I fear the tormented afterlife that awaits me. I fear what fresh damnation the Devil has devised for humanity because hell is being renovated.

The Sudden Deaths at Finch Ranch