Three Tales from the Dark Side by J.T. Ellison

Author:J.T. Ellison
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Two Tales Press

Edgar was exhilarated. He didn’t know what possessed him to drag out of his warm bridal bed and go swimming in the cold surf, but he was glad he had. It cleared his head. He felt wonderful. Starving, in fact. And wanted to see Elizabeth. He wanted to see his wife now.

He grabbed the towel and dried off briskly, then started back up the wobbly wooden stairs. He had so much energy. So much power. My God, Elizabeth had done things to him he’d only read about. He had no idea she even knew those actions existed. Saving it for the wedding night, she was.

He didn’t think they’d gotten more than an hour’s sleep. Then he woke to the note—My love, go for a swim. I’m getting us breakfast—and thought to himself, Yes, that’s exactly what I’ll do. I’ll go for a swim.

He bounded back to the castle, up, up the stairs to the bridal suite. He flung the doors open.

Elizabeth was on the floor under a large gray mass. She wasn’t moving, but the mass was, sinuously sliding up and down Elizabeth’s body.

“What is this?” he demanded, completely uncertain what to do.

There was a deep hissing noise, and he felt the room contract into coldness. Extreme fury pushed at his chest, making him fall back against the wall. A breeze began, one that smelled like sulfur, whipping his hair and drying the last drops of salt from his arms, and he heard the words falling through the air like the hiss of daggers.

“Dooooollloooooon. Stooooop hiiiiiiiim.”

Edgar looked away from the writhing mass for a moment and saw himself, standing on the far side of the room, arms crossed, a small grin on his face. Enjoying the show.

A small squeaking caught his attention. It was coming from Elizabeth. That thing was killing her.

Edgar tossed a glance at his twin, then threw himself at the thing. He smelled himself on her—his sweat, his semen—and realized he hadn’t lain with his wife at all. The thought sickened him.

The thing wailed and fought against him. It was like wrestling smoke. Punches and kicks were ineffectual. Elizabeth’s squeaking grew fainter.

With no full realization of what he was doing, he stood and rushed at his twin. Edgar laughed at him, moving out of the way slightly as he drew near.

How could this be? The real Edgar saw a mirror behind the thing that looked like him. Deviating at the last second, he ran smack into the mirror, causing it to shatter into a hundred pieces. He grabbed the largest from the floor and plunged back into the fray, stabbing at the gray thing with the shard.

“Elizabeth! I love you!” he screamed.

A deep, shrieking howl rose from the floor, and blood began to splash. Edgar slashed, and slashed again, until his could raise his arm no more, and his breath gave out.

The scream was earsplitting. The windows shattered. The walls began to shimmy. The bed rocked, and the wardrobe fell over. It was as if an earthquake had struck the room, accompanied by cries of such intensity Edgar felt himself going mad.

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