Chapter 3
A House Of Ash
This is it. The culmination of fear and regret meeting at a juncture of hope yet to be seen. A light shines brightest in the dark, and before them was the flame they so dearly needed. Amy would be alive, that was the collective thought held by all.
A fleet of dark vehicles are noticed by passersby as they hurtle through the streets leaving chaos in their wake. An old man sits quietly on a park bench, as they draw near, he exclaims to himself, “What in God’s name!?” Nothing could be further from the truth.
Warriors come to storm the gates of Sheol, enforcing a bastion of ferocity. Men whose experience vastly overcompensating for there worries, hold only one thought, “What could possibly go wrong?”
The lead driver swerves and drifts his vehicle into a defense position as the rest follow his pattern. A small army forms from them and gathers in front of the small church. Each man is armed to the teeth with lethal weapons and cameras attached to each helmet, as is done in this age. “Fall in!” was the order from Captain Jones. In turn each man fell into place, “Check your corners!” said Jones. With each step a weight grew on their hearts, and none knew the source. At the far end of the room, was an altar. “Hold.” said Jones as he raised his fist next to his head. No one breathe, least of all their leader. He steps forward, eyeing the center of the stone table, and his eyes tell him what his heart doesn't’t wan’t to know.
There in front of him, and for all the world to see, a young girl with golden locks of hair, lying motionless, and unresponsive, the body of Amy Phillips.
Seven Years Later
Darkness... a void, both empty and cooling. In this moment there is peace, something not easily found. A pool of water forms from ground, causing small ripples to travel across the black pond. The ripples reach the end and bounce back towards the center. A boy kneels on the edge of this darkness staring into what should be his reflection only to find nothing. He breathes an empty sigh feeling nothing. His breathe reaches the water and a new wave forms greater than those before. His eyes hypnotically follow it with great curiosity as this new change grows larger with every moment. Panic now fills him as he clenches his fists. He grabs at his shirt as the heat rises. Sweat pours down his face as the ever growing wave approaches him, promising relief from the inferno building inside of him. The wave begins to crash only feet away from him when he see’s something in the water. Fire! Inside the wave is fire illuminating the darkness all around him. He screams as the massive wave of flames consumes him overtaking everything. He should be dead now, but somehow he lives screaming in agony. As his suffering builds, he feels he can take no more, and just then he hears another scream.
“No! Ah!” More and more build growing louder with terror. He screams back, “Where are you?” He only hears more screaming. “Where are you? I can’t see you!” He screams once more, but the voices of these tortured women have been cut off instantly, forming a deafening chill. Instead the voice of an older, angry man responds in a calm menacing tone. “I’m right here.” The boy’s breathe falls into a panic, terror gripping his senses, as he screams out, “No!” The older man replies as his voice grows darker, “You thought you could run away, did you? You will never escape!” The boy screams back, “Your’e not real!” The Man cackles a deep menacing laugh, and say’s, “Oh, am I? If I wasn't real could I do this?” The edges of a massive and gigantic figure emerges from the shadow and flame, and a fiery hand hurls the boy further into a chasm of death and despair. He screams one last time before eternity sets in, “No!”
Derek wakes up throwing his fists in the air as a massive fire ball leaps through the air consuming the room. Derek feels the panic rising within him, and with it the fire grows in strength and size. Death has come, but tonight it leaves empty handed. He sit’s up straight on his bed, closes his eyes, and places his fist in his hand using a meditation technique he learned. He slows his heart as he takes in a very deep breathe. The flames flicker and shrink a little. He focuses his mind and with one large breathe, the room is extinguished.
Other than the charred remains, and the burns all over his body, you would never know anything happened. Derek surveys the damage both on and around him, and begins to feel calm. He rises from his nightmare and walks into his bathroom, and splashes his face with cold water. The voices echo in his mind, and resonate with fresh terror and guilt, but they do not upset him as much as the voice of the man. It fills him with hatred, his fists clenched shaking with rage and fear, he shatters the mirror in front of him. Blood drips from his hand as the voice of his father rings through his mind, “You’ll never escape boy!”
