The Lunatic Posse: The Eye of the Storm by Melanie McCurdie

Author:Melanie McCurdie [McCurdie, Melanie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bled Astray Books
Published: 2018-05-24T22:00:00+00:00

The Door

When night falls, it does as deeply and heavily as one of Mama’s handmade blankets in winter. Sometimes the light is gone as quickly as a heartbeat. Even the sunsets are lacklustre. Tonight, is much like that; the path back to her abode is bare steps away but lost to sight in the near darkness. If Clarissa didn’t know which way home by the stars was, she’d be lost to the elements for the night.

Still, she traverses it as gracefully as possible, safely stepping by innate nature where no dry sticks or grass will give my position away, should either some of the townspeople or Gods forbid, one of the Posse are in the vicinity. She doesn’t want to answer inane questions, nor does she have the energy to flee, then fight, for her life. She supposes that should it come, it would at the least release her from the plan that her father is all but obsessed about making a reality.

Clarissa shudders at the thought of laying with Reggie then returns her mind to the task at hand. There will be time to worry about that later.

Silent as the mist that has begun to gather at the bases of the trees and in the dips and hollows too, she makes her way home.

Geema had taught her very well, how to look out for her own safety and those were lessons that Clarissa still takes very seriously. Geema would have never steered her wrong, nor would she have purposely put Clarissa into harms way.

Halfway to her humble home, she feels the air in her chest freeze, then rush out and her body follows suit, stopping her dead in her tracks. Clarissa couldn’t have moved if she wanted to. What has appeared before her is enough to stun anyone.

Improbably, as Geema had always said that nothing was impossible, there is a severely damaged door standing sentinel in my path. Somehow, a door. It doesn’t waver despite the growing breeze that always comes with nightfall, though there is nothing to support it, but there it is.

“Perhaps I’ve gone insane. Did I get infected without a bite?” Clarissa pats herself down, doing a quick once over before she has time to consider how ridiculous the idea is.

What she positively knows is that it hadn’t been there when she gladly gathered berries on the border of the forest early this morning, and it hadn’t been there when she came to the stream with some acquaintances just after the noon hour, and it certainly hadn’t been there at dusk when she snuck away to visit with Geema.

There had been nothing to hold up her travels at any point in her day, but now, here is.

A battered door stands on guard, staring blankly back into my open-mouthed gawp with its face scarred and dented as though it had been beaten into submission.

The blemished surface doesn’t frighten Clarissa as much as the three bloody handprints that mark the no-colour of windswept sand and filthy skin surface.

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