|1.||An Unwelcome Visitor||See below|
|2.||Dancing With Demons||Read it Now|
|3.||An Outrage||Read it Now|
|4.||What's Up Doc?||Read it Now|
|An Unwelcome Visitor|
Eric woke up sweating. The sheet clung to his back and the pillow was damp beneath his head. He stared up into the darkness and tried to catch his breath. This was the third time this week he had had that dream and it made him feel uneasy.
Sitting up in the bed he leaned over and fumbled through his jean pockets, looking for his cigarettes. He sparked one up and hung his head in his hands, wiping his eyes, and tried to shake the memory of the dream from his mind.
A dark vision loomed up in his mind of the altar and he could almost hear the screams of the child as the shadow made off with it through the doorway. He shuddered.
Looking out the window, he figured it was about three or four o'clock because it was still dark and there was no traffic on the road. In the distance he could hear a dog barking, probably spooked by some scavenging rodent in the night.
He drew on his cigarette, and the room lit up in a dull orange glow before plunging into darkness again. He tapped into the ashtray on the bedside locker.
He could recall the dream in vivid detail:
(There was a small stone church on the edge of a rocky cliff. The roof and half of the wall on the cliff side was missing. There were two rooms. In one was an altar and in the other was a line of pews facing towards a stone wall. Outside the sky was in a state of perpetual twilight and on the far horizon was a hint of purple sky.
He had been appointed to lay the altar out in a specific manner to ward off some kind of malevolent spirit but had gotten sidetracked exploring the other room. Then he heard a baby screaming and when he ran in to the altar he saw a figure disappearing through a large doorway in the back wall. Too terrified to pursue, he stood frozen until the wailing of the child gradually faded into silence.)
Next thing he knew he would wake up in his bed, painted in sweat and wracked by feelings of terror and guilt. The guilt was the worst.
He took another drag on his cigarette, its dull glow lighting up the room and that was when he realized he wasn't alone.
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