Black Acres 03-The Amber Light by Ibsen Ambrose

Author:Ibsen, Ambrose [Ibsen, Ambrose]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Horror, Psychological Suspense, Paranormal Thriller, USA, Supernatural
Published: 2015-10-06T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

The night passed without incident. There'd been no other disturbances, no dreams. The pair had slept soundly into the early afternoon and risen refreshed.

Still, as she considered her mug of coffee, Kim felt that something was awry.

Having felt comfortable around the house the previous day, and pleased with having learned more about its previous owners, she'd been confident that she could now put the property's “bad vibes” behind her. And yet, here they were, all the same, and with renewed gusto. Something was different in the air, and it wasn't solely the clouds of dust that Julian's noisy, constant work on the kitchen floors was producing. The air, even from her spot in the living room, felt heavy, unsuitable for breathing. She stirred her coffee for a minute, let more steam pour off of the top before chancing a careful sip.

It tasted awful to her, the bitterness nigh overwhelming. She'd made it the same way she always did, had used the same beans and water in the same proportions. Glancing around at the crowded living room, the piles of dishes upon the relocated dinner table, stacks of boxed foods filling a nearby chair, she wondered at the source of this new unease. It wasn't new, exactly, but it was different. She'd thought herself through with all of this dread, but its newest incarnation hit her from somewhere far closer than ever before. There'd been a sea change in the house overnight, ever since the queer knocking at the back door the previous evening. She recalled the way she'd felt a profound cold wash over her, the way her senses had tracked movement where her eyes could find none.

Kim was jumpier this morning than she had been for quite some time. Julian's pounding and grunting in the kitchen did little to calm her nerves. More than once she'd startled, staining the bandage on her finger with fresh coffee. Sitting on the edge of the sofa, fidgeting, she tried to remember what she'd done the previous day, or the day before. Each day in her memory ran into the last, however, and in searching through her thoughts she could suss out only the highlights, usually curious or frightening. Anything that didn't deal with the house or the Reeds became blotted out and obscured. Dinners with Julian, books she'd read; none of that could enter her focus.

Palming at her forehead, Kim continued to fidget, her toes tapping against the rug in a nervous dance. She felt like her head was elsewhere, as if she'd somehow become disembodied and the act of rejoining her body and mind was too difficult. Something was in the way, scrambling her thoughts and making her feel sapped of intelligence. Maybe she'd eaten something off, or gotten too drunk the previous night. No, you hardly drank then, didn't you? She doubted her memories of the previous night's dinner, counted, then recounted her memory of the beers she'd consumed.

It didn't matter.

Setting her coffee down amidst the clutter of a side table, Kim rose in a huff and ascended the stairs.

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