Day 283 - A Brother Lost

 A Brother Lost

Matthew Ryan Fischer

 

The eyes in the window glowed, flickering like the reflection of a candle, but Brother Marcus knew he was being watched. The floor creaked and footsteps followed him wherever he went, and Brother Marcus knew he was being chased. The door was barred, someone wanted to ensure his demise, but he would kick and smash until the wood splintered.

Somewhere below Reverend Harding met with Lord Hanbrook and Sebastian Skinner. They were good upstanding men of the community. Marcus couldn’t let them down. He must escape the room and find them and make sure they were safe. Whatever foul demons were out that night, he had escaped them once, and he would do so again.

Finally, the door handle shattered and he was free. The hall was dark and the shadow reached out for him. There were reflections in the mirrors, twisted and strange, a sign of things to come. The world was at a precipice, evil was about to be freed and spill forth. The men of upstanding character must do battle, he thought. Men like himself. Spiritual and holy, they would stand a chance. Reverend Harding needed to hear what had occurred at the monastery earlier that night. He would know what to do.

The library was empty. The shadows had taken over the inn, spinning and swirling about. The creaks of wood and following footsteps grew closer. Marcus hated to think about what may have happened to the brave men he once knew, but he realized he needed to escape. Someone had to get to the village. Someone had to warn the town.

Outside, the forest had grown over the road. The swamps had reached the gates of the inn. Marcus screamed “how?!” at the cold dispassionate night. Nature itself swarmed and was opposed to his holy missing.

He ran the other way, trying to reach the back fields where he might find a path back towards town. Then--

Wet. He felt wet. The ground was wet and he had slipped.

But his head was wet and sticky as well.

Blood?

On his scalp and on his fingers. He must have slipped and hit his head on a rock.

The ghosts were coming for him. He had to move. He willed himself up and began to run again.

Then, all of the sudden, he was falling. A cliff. He had run towards town, but now he fell towards the ocean below. Falling. It was over. He had failed and the spirits had won. It was a long way down, but it seemed to go by very quickly.