Chimella gets creepy, in A Chimelling Tale.... It’s a cold night, and you’re lying curled but awake in your bed. Your eyes are fixed on the window as the moonlight flits across it, interrupted only by the shade of tree branches, waving in the throes of the wind. Even tucked tight in the protective embrace of your blankets, you start as the glass rattles loud and violent against the frame. You shake it off and make a decision. Swung from safety, your legs now reach the bare floorboards and you gladly let the rough, tickling grain of the wood bring you back to reality. Drink it in, the security of substance. Time to move. You steal your way silently downstairs, though you don’t know why. You’re alone; no one to wake with a creaking door or a screaming board. And yet as you descend, your ears prick to a sound – a slow, unsteady breathing, somewhere below you, somewhere in the dark. Almost wheezing. You’ve stopped dead before you even know it, and suddenly you’re aware of a sneaking, creeping cold around your naked ankles, now circling up into the bottoms of your pyjamas. It feels like frozen fingers. In your mind an image flashes – the hand that owns them, pale and boney, caressing and clawing. You begin to shiver uncontrollably, and it is panic, not courage, that sends you flying boldly through the door to your sitting room. There’s no time to feel stupid, because the very second you cross that threshold you hear it. That breathing, that wheezy scratching breathing is gone, or changed, become a terrible screaming howl – and it surrounds you, whipping around the empty room like dead leaves on the wind. And you can smell it, some foul invisible beast’s breath; a dusty, dry, sooty stench that cloys and sticks inside your nose. Your ears, your nose, your skin are covered – the screaming, the dirt, the cold all whip to a peak, and behind your clenched eyes you don’t even know that your own voice has joined them, the piercing shrill ripped from you like a lost ship’s sail in the drumming storm… A flash of light across the ceiling, and across your mind. A sudden beacon, the flicker of a long-lost guiding light. Your eyes open and your mouth closes. Your feet start to move, compelled towards the empty black of the fireplace, where the last sparks of heat and light have long been extinguished. Your hand reaches down, behind the piled logs, and from a forgotten corner you draw… something bright. Something green and shining in the darkness, reflecting a light you didn’t even know was there. The swirling sound, the screams are somehow further from you now, humbler. With a new strength you thrust the thing over the grate, and something gives as your thumb presses down – a push, a whoosh, a twist – and all falls silent. You are suddenly aware of the space behind you, and the secure emptiness of the room. A smile plays around your lips as you push yourself back from the grate. Just the wind. Just the chimney. How could you have forgotten to put your Chimella in? Muahahaaaa... Happy Halloween From Chimella - The Chimney Umbrella!
Posted on: Mon, 28 Oct 2013 12:55:14 +0000
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