Greqoh
10-05-2005, 12:20 PM
The Sacrifice (Abigail 2)
by L. Greqoh
Cirrus clouds hovered motionless, floating in the deep ultramarine sky over the neglected road. No car had broken the silence for several hours. A lonesome sign pointing the way to the next town was quietly rusting at the intersection where the road turned off the highway.
In the distance, a faint rumbling was growing. It was a cross between the frantic buzzing of a bee and the primal growl of a tiger...
A wine red Harley, it's chrome catching the sun, blinding even in the distance, was hugging the twisted turns of the highway as it approached the intersection. Its rider wore a black leather jacket, boots and blue jeans. His long black hair spilled out from underneath his black helmet, catching the wind like streamers.
As the intersection came closer, the rider began to slow down.
Paul had heard many stories about this area. There was a long blacktop road which led through a very small town. Paul had heard that the people who resided there were rumored to be some sort of religious fanatics, bizarre cult members perhaps. They shunned outsiders and were rarely seen, being quite unfriendly when they were. Like everyone else, Paul avoided turning down this road.
As he passed the road and began coming around another curve, a figure appeared from nowhere. It was a woman with long red hair, wearing an odd white robe that was blinding in the sun. She was strangely clam and looking straight at him but making no attempt to move. Paul swerved hard to the shoulder of the road, his wheels catching the gravel. His bike slid out from underneath him as his head slammed to the ground.
A cloud of dust arose, swallowing him up as he lay on the ground stunned. A sweet voice that seemed to come from inside his head spoke to him.
"I need your help," it said.
Paul pulled the cracked helmet from his head, and straining, he lifted his head off the ground just enough to see that there was no one there. The world spun before his eyes and his head throbbed.
The sound of a cat startled him. He turned his head to see a small black Bombay running towards him, its little short legs moving amazingly fast. It peered down at him with its deep copper eyes and greeted him with a polite meow.
"Aleister! Where are you going?" a voice called.
He could hear the sound of heels clumsily trying to run on the concrete. Paul turned to see a pair of black granny boots coming nearer. A young woman around seventeen bent down over him. She wore a very old fashioned black dress. Her long wavy red hair fell passed her waist. A silver pentagram dangled from her necklace.
He stared up at her child like face, her crystal blue eyes staring at him in concern. He could not make out her features. Paul's vision was blurry and he began to lose consciousness.
"Don't worry about a thing," she told him, "You are going to be all right."
"You look like an angel," Paul said gratefully as she help him sit up.
"I'm no angel," she laughed softly as he fell into her arms.
#
The few houses in the town were very secluded, surrounded by woods with only long gravel driveways making them accessible. An old frame church was still standing in the heart of the town. Not far from there is where Abigail and her family lived. It was a large white brick house with few small windows, all barred. It was surrounded by many large willow trees that gave it a melancholy sort of appearance, like a place of remorse or decay.
"Abigail has brought an outsider," her father Malachi told his elderly mother. He was dressed in a black robe, freshly shaved with short brown hair that was starting to gray.
His green reptile like eyes stared at her.
She made no answer, but continued to shuffle the deck of cards upon the small table that her aged frame bent over.
The sound of the cards cut through the heavy silence as they fell and interlaced one by one. The woman's old spotted hands skillfully worked the worn deck, making the cards blend seamlessly into a graceful dance.
The woman's white eyes blindly stared out from her unkempt gray hair. She did not require her sight for the cards, however. As she placed ten of them down in a ten card spread her wrinkled face tightened as she placed each one in it's position.
At the center, signifying the subject of the reading she had put the "Princess of Wands". Upon laying down the "Prince of Pentacles" she gazed at her son, Malachi.
"A young man..." she said.
"Yes mother, he..." Malachi began to answer.
"Was involved in an accident? Ah, and our sweet Abigail brought him here did she?" the old woman said as she placed the "Queen of Wands" on the table. Her face soured, falling into a macabre scowl. "It's her..."
"Diana?" Malachi asked, "It cannot be..."
"Oh, it is. I am sure of that. Even death cannot keep Diana from trying to save her foolish child," she looked at a spot in the room mocking, "Well, there is nothing you can do, Diana. Tomorrow night, as the moon dies, so shall Abigail. You may have gotten away from us, but after all these years, your daughter will take your place."
Malachi looked about the room. The candles were beginning to flicker wildly. A storm was coming. The temperature outside had dropped and the winds were beginning to pick up strength, making the curtain behind his mother dance wildly.
"Samuel was told not to let her out of his sight. He knew that tomorrow was a special night," Malachi growled.
"Your son is a fool," she told him. "Powerful and strong...but a reckless fool," she told the enraged father.
"I shall see to it that he is disciplined properly for his failure," Malachi decided.
The old woman's hand placed the final card, the 13'th key on the table. "No one is aware that the young man has come here.He may prove useful as an extra offering. Let him share her fate. Everything shall remain as planned," the woman instructed as she gazed blindly at the "Death" card.
Malachi nodded. His aging mother raised her hand dismissing him. He carefully back out of the door, not turning his back on her until the door was shut.
#
"Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital?" Abigail asked as she gently put an ice bag on Paul's head. The bursts of thunder outside was shaking his skull.
"No, there's not much you can do for a concussion. If I can just use your phone I can have someone pick me up," Paul answered.
She nodded politely. Now that Paul's vision had cleared he saw her face clearly. She was very fair with faint freckles across her cheeks. She wasn't wearing any make up, which gave her a cute tomboy look. He caught himself staring at her, admiring her bone structure, her high cheeks and oval face. She caught him staring and began to blush.
The door opened and a very solidly built angry looking young man came in the room. He had very short brown hair and cruel green eyes that seemed to be sizing Paul up. At his feet was a black Rottweiler which stared menacingly at Paul.
Abigail seemed startled at his entrance and said "Samuel..this is Paul. He..."
"Yeah, I know...I got your bike outside. Nice bike. A shame you don't know how to ride better," he quipped rudely.
Paul's lips tightened as there eyes met.
"I just need to use the phone and I'll be on my way," he said looking away.
"Here let me help you," Abigail told him as she put her arm around him and led him to the phone, looking back at Samuel as she mouthed the words "you asshole". Samuel stared a hole through her as he put some more chew in his large mouth.
Paul put the receiver to his ear and frowned. "I don't think this is working," he said.
"No, I am terribly sorry. The storm seems to have knocked it out somehow," Abigail's father, Malachi said.
Paul stared out the window unable to see through the pouring rain.
"I couldn't stand the thought of sending you out in your condition, and there is really no use anyone going out in this weather. Why don't you just stay here tonight?" he offered.
"I couldn't impose like that..." Paul said.
"Nonsense. You can sleep in the guest room. We have a spare bed," Malachi insisted.
"Thank you. You are very kind, sir," Paul said gratefully. All he could think of was sleep.
"Then it is settled. Children, show are guest to his room. He has had a very hard day," Malachi instructed before leaving. Samuel groaned and said something under his breath as he walked away.
"Your father is really nice," Paul told Abigail.
"Yes, but my step brother can be a real jerk," she apologized.
"It's all right. He probably doesn't want any strange guys around his sister," Paul said.
"He couldn't care less. Believe me, he is just a creep," she insisted.
#
Abigail shut Paul's door and began to walk into her room.
Samuel was standing in front of her door barring the way.
"So did you kiss your boyfriend goodnight?" he asked sharply.
"Lay off. What was I supposed to do, just leave him there on the road?" She asked.
"I would have," he answered. "You know the rules. No outsiders. Everyone in the town is going to be pissed."
"No one in this town like me anyway. And it's not like he'll ever come back with the way you are trying to chase him off, you" she snapped as she pushed him aside.
He grabbed her by her small white wrist and jerked her back, pushing her against the wall. "I don't think I like the way you did that," he said as he squeezed her wrist.
She winced in pain.
"Let go! Let go or I'll scream!" she threatened.
Samuel pushed her down against the wall, knocking the breath out of her. He gave a nod to his rottweiler who began to approach her threateningly baring his teeth with a low rumbling growl, his eyes appeared to have an unnatural red glow in them.
by L. Greqoh
Cirrus clouds hovered motionless, floating in the deep ultramarine sky over the neglected road. No car had broken the silence for several hours. A lonesome sign pointing the way to the next town was quietly rusting at the intersection where the road turned off the highway.
In the distance, a faint rumbling was growing. It was a cross between the frantic buzzing of a bee and the primal growl of a tiger...
A wine red Harley, it's chrome catching the sun, blinding even in the distance, was hugging the twisted turns of the highway as it approached the intersection. Its rider wore a black leather jacket, boots and blue jeans. His long black hair spilled out from underneath his black helmet, catching the wind like streamers.
As the intersection came closer, the rider began to slow down.
Paul had heard many stories about this area. There was a long blacktop road which led through a very small town. Paul had heard that the people who resided there were rumored to be some sort of religious fanatics, bizarre cult members perhaps. They shunned outsiders and were rarely seen, being quite unfriendly when they were. Like everyone else, Paul avoided turning down this road.
As he passed the road and began coming around another curve, a figure appeared from nowhere. It was a woman with long red hair, wearing an odd white robe that was blinding in the sun. She was strangely clam and looking straight at him but making no attempt to move. Paul swerved hard to the shoulder of the road, his wheels catching the gravel. His bike slid out from underneath him as his head slammed to the ground.
A cloud of dust arose, swallowing him up as he lay on the ground stunned. A sweet voice that seemed to come from inside his head spoke to him.
"I need your help," it said.
Paul pulled the cracked helmet from his head, and straining, he lifted his head off the ground just enough to see that there was no one there. The world spun before his eyes and his head throbbed.
The sound of a cat startled him. He turned his head to see a small black Bombay running towards him, its little short legs moving amazingly fast. It peered down at him with its deep copper eyes and greeted him with a polite meow.
"Aleister! Where are you going?" a voice called.
He could hear the sound of heels clumsily trying to run on the concrete. Paul turned to see a pair of black granny boots coming nearer. A young woman around seventeen bent down over him. She wore a very old fashioned black dress. Her long wavy red hair fell passed her waist. A silver pentagram dangled from her necklace.
He stared up at her child like face, her crystal blue eyes staring at him in concern. He could not make out her features. Paul's vision was blurry and he began to lose consciousness.
"Don't worry about a thing," she told him, "You are going to be all right."
"You look like an angel," Paul said gratefully as she help him sit up.
"I'm no angel," she laughed softly as he fell into her arms.
#
The few houses in the town were very secluded, surrounded by woods with only long gravel driveways making them accessible. An old frame church was still standing in the heart of the town. Not far from there is where Abigail and her family lived. It was a large white brick house with few small windows, all barred. It was surrounded by many large willow trees that gave it a melancholy sort of appearance, like a place of remorse or decay.
"Abigail has brought an outsider," her father Malachi told his elderly mother. He was dressed in a black robe, freshly shaved with short brown hair that was starting to gray.
His green reptile like eyes stared at her.
She made no answer, but continued to shuffle the deck of cards upon the small table that her aged frame bent over.
The sound of the cards cut through the heavy silence as they fell and interlaced one by one. The woman's old spotted hands skillfully worked the worn deck, making the cards blend seamlessly into a graceful dance.
The woman's white eyes blindly stared out from her unkempt gray hair. She did not require her sight for the cards, however. As she placed ten of them down in a ten card spread her wrinkled face tightened as she placed each one in it's position.
At the center, signifying the subject of the reading she had put the "Princess of Wands". Upon laying down the "Prince of Pentacles" she gazed at her son, Malachi.
"A young man..." she said.
"Yes mother, he..." Malachi began to answer.
"Was involved in an accident? Ah, and our sweet Abigail brought him here did she?" the old woman said as she placed the "Queen of Wands" on the table. Her face soured, falling into a macabre scowl. "It's her..."
"Diana?" Malachi asked, "It cannot be..."
"Oh, it is. I am sure of that. Even death cannot keep Diana from trying to save her foolish child," she looked at a spot in the room mocking, "Well, there is nothing you can do, Diana. Tomorrow night, as the moon dies, so shall Abigail. You may have gotten away from us, but after all these years, your daughter will take your place."
Malachi looked about the room. The candles were beginning to flicker wildly. A storm was coming. The temperature outside had dropped and the winds were beginning to pick up strength, making the curtain behind his mother dance wildly.
"Samuel was told not to let her out of his sight. He knew that tomorrow was a special night," Malachi growled.
"Your son is a fool," she told him. "Powerful and strong...but a reckless fool," she told the enraged father.
"I shall see to it that he is disciplined properly for his failure," Malachi decided.
The old woman's hand placed the final card, the 13'th key on the table. "No one is aware that the young man has come here.He may prove useful as an extra offering. Let him share her fate. Everything shall remain as planned," the woman instructed as she gazed blindly at the "Death" card.
Malachi nodded. His aging mother raised her hand dismissing him. He carefully back out of the door, not turning his back on her until the door was shut.
#
"Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital?" Abigail asked as she gently put an ice bag on Paul's head. The bursts of thunder outside was shaking his skull.
"No, there's not much you can do for a concussion. If I can just use your phone I can have someone pick me up," Paul answered.
She nodded politely. Now that Paul's vision had cleared he saw her face clearly. She was very fair with faint freckles across her cheeks. She wasn't wearing any make up, which gave her a cute tomboy look. He caught himself staring at her, admiring her bone structure, her high cheeks and oval face. She caught him staring and began to blush.
The door opened and a very solidly built angry looking young man came in the room. He had very short brown hair and cruel green eyes that seemed to be sizing Paul up. At his feet was a black Rottweiler which stared menacingly at Paul.
Abigail seemed startled at his entrance and said "Samuel..this is Paul. He..."
"Yeah, I know...I got your bike outside. Nice bike. A shame you don't know how to ride better," he quipped rudely.
Paul's lips tightened as there eyes met.
"I just need to use the phone and I'll be on my way," he said looking away.
"Here let me help you," Abigail told him as she put her arm around him and led him to the phone, looking back at Samuel as she mouthed the words "you asshole". Samuel stared a hole through her as he put some more chew in his large mouth.
Paul put the receiver to his ear and frowned. "I don't think this is working," he said.
"No, I am terribly sorry. The storm seems to have knocked it out somehow," Abigail's father, Malachi said.
Paul stared out the window unable to see through the pouring rain.
"I couldn't stand the thought of sending you out in your condition, and there is really no use anyone going out in this weather. Why don't you just stay here tonight?" he offered.
"I couldn't impose like that..." Paul said.
"Nonsense. You can sleep in the guest room. We have a spare bed," Malachi insisted.
"Thank you. You are very kind, sir," Paul said gratefully. All he could think of was sleep.
"Then it is settled. Children, show are guest to his room. He has had a very hard day," Malachi instructed before leaving. Samuel groaned and said something under his breath as he walked away.
"Your father is really nice," Paul told Abigail.
"Yes, but my step brother can be a real jerk," she apologized.
"It's all right. He probably doesn't want any strange guys around his sister," Paul said.
"He couldn't care less. Believe me, he is just a creep," she insisted.
#
Abigail shut Paul's door and began to walk into her room.
Samuel was standing in front of her door barring the way.
"So did you kiss your boyfriend goodnight?" he asked sharply.
"Lay off. What was I supposed to do, just leave him there on the road?" She asked.
"I would have," he answered. "You know the rules. No outsiders. Everyone in the town is going to be pissed."
"No one in this town like me anyway. And it's not like he'll ever come back with the way you are trying to chase him off, you" she snapped as she pushed him aside.
He grabbed her by her small white wrist and jerked her back, pushing her against the wall. "I don't think I like the way you did that," he said as he squeezed her wrist.
She winced in pain.
"Let go! Let go or I'll scream!" she threatened.
Samuel pushed her down against the wall, knocking the breath out of her. He gave a nod to his rottweiler who began to approach her threateningly baring his teeth with a low rumbling growl, his eyes appeared to have an unnatural red glow in them.