Beloved Darkness Ch. 03

That was all Freddy needed to react. He burst out of the bed, to the door way, and up to the stairwell.

The sconces lining the stairwell flickered, and went out as a cold rush of air passed through Freddy. Downstairs, he saw the light flicker, grow dimmer, and flicker again. Finally, there were only stairwells descending into absolute darkness.

"No, hell no!" Freddy turned on his heel and bolted down the hall back for the master bedroom. The doors closed firmly in the hall as he ran, until finally the master bedroom was closed up. Freddy, unable to stop, ran into the door full force.

The door did not yield, and Freddy found himself flat on his back, staring at the ceiling.

The sound of a girl's laughter echoed through the hallway, from above him, and all around him.

Freddy rubbed his temples, climbing to his feet. "Ouch. This isn't funny!"

The giggle, again. This time is sounded closer, less disembodied. He thought he saw the shimmering blur of green silk flats, as a fleeting shadow dashed past him.

Then, Silence.

Gritting his teeth, Freddy found himself walking on wobbling legs, uncertain if it was fear, adrenaline, or from running into the door as fast and hard as he did.

Faint footsteps in the hallway, fast this time, but not running. Freddy inched toward the hall, regaining his bearings.

"Wait!"

The footsteps sped up. They stopped suddenly to the sound of creaking, groaning wood. There was a thud in the hallway, and it was silent.

Freddy crept along the way. He could sense someone holding their breath, keeping their silence as though they were locked in an unspoken game of hide, and seek... but he wasn't having it. Not when his job - his life as he knew it - was on the line.

Outside, gale force winds hammered fat droplets of rain into the old house. He could hear the splatter as water rattled top-thinning windows, and pelted the shingles on the roof.

There. He heard it. She exhaled. In his ear. Freddy swung an arm out instinctively, and felt his arm pass through something. It felt solid, but not, like thick, electric water. He felt an immediate smack along the right of he face. The sound was very real.

Hmph! The sensation in the air swam around him, and the presence, whatever it was - wherever she was, began to fade away.

Freddy sighed, feeling stupid. He thanked God he wasn't in a horror movie. No, He thought with a level head. My story is more akin to a badly written attempt at fiction.

Silence hung in the air a moment, and Freddy glanced around a moment, unable to shake the feeling that he was being watched by more than one presence. He itched nervously at the back of his neck, and chocked at least some of it as paranoia.

Like anyone would ever read his story anyway

Freddy closed his eyes, and slowed his breathing, steadying his voice. "My name is Frederick - Freddy - Gordon. My car broke down a way back. I need a phone - a telephone. I couldn't find one. Can you help me?"

The hair on the back of his neck stood up.

No. He felt her say. There was a definite current in the air, the same energy he felt in an electric storm, or near the generators in the basement at J. Carrol Brady Publishing.

"I don't believe in ghosts." He said in a tone that reflected fact, but a voice that resembled fear. "I'm a Christian."

Good for you.

Freddy got the impression that it - she - wasn't too far away from him. Idle conversation wasn't doing any good, considering that she wasn't really talking. For all he knew, and it was likely, it could all be his imagination. It certainly made sense, considering the strange circumstances.

You will have to wait until after the storm. Her voice carried this time, in a whisper. Faint enough to be a breeze, strong enough that he could tell for certain it was in fact a girl.

"You can talk."

He felt her shaking her head.

"You can't talk?"

I can... but...

Freddy felt the sudden urge to stretch, and yawn. "...but it makes you tired."

The room grew a little cooler. It wasn't an unpleasant sensation, the feeling of cold in his bones. "Where are you?"

Knocking from the rafters.

"If you're trying not to scare me, you're doing a terrible, terrible job. I'm not used to this."

Who ever is?

He shrugged. "I'm not going to go up into the attic. I saw this movie. The dumb guy dies. I don't want to be that guy."

Her presence shifted in the hallway. I'm not going to hurt you.

"No, but maybe the evil presence that is imprisoning you here will. Or the curse. Or the object you're bound to."

Idiot.

"I read what the experts on the afterlife say."

...if they're not dead, they're not experts."

Behind him, there was a brief clack of sliding metal, followed by a hiss of stale air. He heard, rather than saw the ladder descending, touching lightly on the carpeted hall.

"No."

...why not?

"I don't want to die."

No one wants to die. I'll take away your lights..."

"You're not inspiring a lot of confidence in me, uh..."

Fereshte.

"Bless you."

There was an empty silence, where all at once her presence was gone. The hall was quiet the way a library is quiet, or an empty garage is quiet. Then, at once her presence was back, heavily, and he felt a subtle pat on the back of his head.

Jerk.

Freddy shook his head. "I don't believe in ghosts. I'm sorry, eh - Fere..."

Fereshte. Fair. Esh. Teh.

"...Fereshte. I'm overtired, terrified of this empty town, and this empty house, and this storm, and just about everything in between."

There is no one else.

"In this house?"

...in this town. More knocking from the attic rafters. Deliberate knocking. Shave and a haircut.

"...two bits." Freddy whispered, and then: "Fine. I admit you're definitely here, but I'm not going into the attic of an old house in the middle of an old town where there's no phones, or cars, or - "

- escape.

"That's not funny." Freddy took two steps toward the stairwell. It was pitch black down stairs. He could hear the deep sound of ticking now, the sound made by a pendulum, it's sway in time echoing from a void he could not hope to see through, no less navigate. Even the blind would call it darkness.

Please.

He sat in the lingering air of her pleading. He could literally smell her, the faint scent of musk and roses, like a subtle perfume in the otherwise stale air. He shook his head. "I want to see you. If anything, out of morbid curiosity. I can't."

...please?

"I'm barely a reporter. Not even a reporter. I have one job to do, and if I don't do it... well there's worse things than mopping floors."

...like being dead, and alone in an empty town by yourself?

"Don't play the guilt trip on me, I don't even know you! You could be some demon, or some succubus bent on swallowing my soul."

Succubus?

"...nothing. I think I've been spending too many hours on Literotica reading Many-Eyed-whatever his name's stories."

...what's a succubus?

"Look, nevermind okay?" Freddy blushed. "I don't want to talk to you about what I may, or may not read eagerly when the mood strikes, alright?"

Jerk.

"Fuck my life!" Freddy said, throwing his arms up into the air. "I'm so done with this!"

...visit me.

"No."

...how about now?

"No."

Now?

He gritted his teeth, and actually felt one of his molars crack. It hurt. He stifled the pain by squeezing his eyes shut tight. There was a brief flash in his squeezed-shut-eyes, like being punched, or getting hit with a baseball. He saw her - or what he could only assume was Fereshte. A briefest glimpse of green, on green, pale olive skin, and the blackest of blue-black hair, thick, and curly. Her expression was in mourning, eyebrows slanted in a sorrowful furrow. hazel-green eyes imploring. Her slender arms rested balefully at her sides.

...please Freddy. Just once?