The Darkness Rising by David Stuart Davies

Author:David Stuart Davies [Davies, David Stuart]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Sharpe Books
Published: 2020-05-10T22:00:00+00:00

***

For some moments Rob stood transfixed, his mind failing to come to terms with what he saw. This must be some kind of monstrous practical joke: a latex head, tomato sauce...

The dead glazed eyes of Fiona Moore stared unseeing at him, the mouth slightly open as in surprise. Her blond hair trailed in the dark pool of congealed blood which circled the head.

With a few faltering steps, Rob moved to the head and leaning forward allowed his fingers to touch the skin. It was cold and hard, but it was real.

Dead meat. Rob retched and, turning quickly away, he was violently sick.

Moments later, wiping the tears away, he gazed at his wife's decapitated head. He knew now that the nightmare had finally taken over. He was no longer in touch with reality. The madness had claimed him. He cried uncontrollably, his body racked with sobs. After a time, a stoical quietness finally overcame him, and the deadness of spirit settled down within him. It was then, as a chilling numbness overtook the pain, that the thought struck him: where the hell was the body—where was the rest of his wife? Slowly he scanned the room; but it wasn't there. As in a trance he began to search the downstairs rooms as in some ghoulish game of hunt the body. He moved slowly and methodically through the stillness of the house without the full emotional comprehension of his task.

Finally, he peered up into the darkness at the top of the stairs and with an instinctive realisation, he knew Fiona was in their bedroom. She would be lying there, waiting to be discovered. As he mounted the stairs towards the encroaching darkness, he began to feel a dull ache in his heart.

Not daring to turn the light on, he felt his way along the landing and into the bedroom. There sprawling diagonally across the bed was the headless corpse of his wife. Splatters of blood were everywhere. Rob was now drained of all emotion and reaction. He just gazed dully at the bed, the pain in his heart growing stronger, like cramped fingers squeezing each ventricle. Creamy moonlight spilling into the room dusted the body with pale frosting, giving it the appearance of some large theatrical doll.

And then from the shadows he heard a low mirthless laugh. It cut through the silence like a sword. It came again louder and harsher. It was a laugh he knew. It was a laugh he expected. It was a laugh from his nightmares, only this time there was no waking up.

Once more the laugh spewed into the darkness, the darkness that still shrouded its owner. He was the master of Rob's nightmares and he had come to claim him.

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