The Outlaw Screamer by M. L. Bullock

Author:M. L. Bullock [Bullock, M. L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2025-05-30T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve–Caleb

I woke with blood on my pillow. A chilling, sticky dampness against my cheek. The coppery scent filled my nostrils, sharp and unmistakable. The name, raw and burning, was in my throat. Not a scream this time. Not a wail that tore through the air. A whisper. A single, desperate syllable that felt branded onto my tongue.

But I didn’t know what it meant. I couldn’t hold onto it, not fully. The dream was already breaking apart like ash in a breeze, scattering before I could grasp its full horror. Yet the feeling—God, the crushing, suffocating feeling—clung to me like soot, thick and pervasive.

Eleanor had been there.

She stood just past the rotted threshold of the second tunnel, the one we’d breached yesterday, the one that had almost claimed Joshua. Her gown was torn and gray, clinging to her emaciated form. Her face—what was left of it—was streaked with something dark, something wet, like river mud or congealed blood. Her eyes, sunken and hollow, were locked on mine, piercing through the dream, through sleep, directly into my soul.

Her mouth moved, slow and silent, forming syllables I couldn’t hear, a soundless plea. Her hands, skeletal and shimmering, reached for me. Not in fear, not in anger. But in desperate need. A silent cry for help that echoed louder than any scream.

I couldn’t move. My limbs were locked, heavy as stone. I couldn’t breathe, my lungs constricted by an invisible vice. The only thing I could do was watch her vanish—drawn backward, pulled by an unseen force, swallowed into the deeper shadow beyond the threshold. As she receded, the tunnel walls seemed to crack open, groaning like ancient bones. The hum returned, louder than ever, a deep, resonant thrum that vibrated through my very marrow, like the earth itself was trying to scream.

When I sat up in bed, gasping, my nose was bleeding. Not a trickle. A flood. Dark, warm blood gushed, pouring through my fingers, staining my sheets. I stumbled to the bathroom, my bare feet slapping cold against the tile, hands cupped to catch the steady flow. The mirror showed me a pale, wild-eyed reflection, my face smeared with blood. My shirt was soaked through with sweat, clinging to my skin. My jaw trembled uncontrollably.

And then I saw the marks.

Charcoal streaks, thick and black, written across my forearm in symbols I didn’t recognize. Not English. Not anything I remembered drawing. But they were there, clear as ink, etched into my skin, the smudges still fresh, as if I’d drawn them in the dead of night. A warning. A brand. A chilling confirmation.

The scream was still in me, somewhere deep, vibrating like a bell that wouldn’t stop ringing, its discordant chime echoing through every nerve. I was marked now. I didn’t need Aunt Evelyn to tell me that. I was no longer an observer. I was chosen.

I didn’t want to call her. I knew she’d hear it in my voice, the way I couldn’t quite swallow the tremble, couldn’t disguise the crack beneath the words.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.