Nightmares At Christmas 2 Days One - Six. DAY ONE: RED SNOW FALLING December 1st. Little Milton. The first flakes of snow fell that night, covering the ground in a soft, white sparkling blanket. As Betty Harris walked home from her local library, she wrapped her thick leather jacket tightly around her. Even with her long, grey woollen hat and thick grey gloves she was still cold. She could see her breath come out in sharp rasps as she hurried towards Cavendar Road. It wouldn’t be long until Betty was home, then she would feel warm and safe. It may only be just after seven, but already long shadows were spilling out onto the quiet streets. Cars were parked here and there, and she was surprised at how quiet it was, even at this time. Usually on the run up to Christmas, people would be rushing to buy presents and she would see them all on the streets, in a rush to get home like she was. In Little Milton, nothing exciting or horrible ever happened. But tonight, something horrible would. Betty turned the corner onto Cavendar Road, just as a fresh batch of snow began to fall. Her house was right at the far end on the left, and she was glad. All the while she had been walking, she felt as if she was being watched from darkened corners. A warm bath and a hot chocolate would do the trick, then she would settle down with her latest Anne Larpy Mystery novel. A whisper. It sounded so faint but she could just make it out. It was someone calling her name. There it was again, a little louder this time. “Betty…” She turned and looked into the darkness of the first building on this street. It was the abandoned shoe shop that had been boarded up for years. The council had plans to knock it down and rebuild it in the New Year. But then, they had been saying that for every year. Maybe they thought it would be a nice tourist attraction, the local haunted place in town. Betty shuddered. She didn’t know why she had stopped. There was something sinister about this black shop. The front windows had been painted over so you couldn’t see inside, but she noticed that the door was slightly ajar. Betty wanted to run and could feel a scream ready to burst inside, but she was drawn to this place by a supernatural power. Before she knew what she was doing, Betty pulled open the decaying door with a low creak and stepped inside. The air was musty and stale. She almost gagged on the smell. There were cobwebs everywhere. It was a bleak place. The shelves where the shoes had been were broken up and graffiti was sprayed on the walls. Cobwebs hung quite large in the corners. It was the small door to the far right of the shop that caught Betty’s eye. It looked out of place in the shop – and filled her with sudden dread. It was just large enough for a person to crawl inside. Betty knew there was something sinister under that door, but something was pulling her towards it. Betty pulled it open gingerly and crawled inside. Immediately she wished she hadn’t. It was a small area littered with bones. Human bones and animal bones, and strange creatures she did not recognise. Blood splattered the walls. There was a rotting stench and the whispers had gotten louder. “Betty… Betty… We are glad you are here… we are glad you found us… Come… Let us make you one with the Earth…” Betty could see an rock opening in the wall and a small group of men came out… no, they were more like Nogombi’s – small tribal demons her grandfather had told her about once. They had tufty hair and large, staring eyes with long, long noses and large nasty grins. Each one carried a small spear and they wore grass skirts. There was about twenty in total. One more to the party. Betty had wanted to run, but now it was too late. They advanced upon her and their horrible gazes swam into hers. She didn’t fell a thing as she shrunk and became one of them, her soul being swallowed into a snowflake, that turned red and flew out of the hole, right back out into the street. The door closed as the Nogombi’s giggled and screeched, waiting on their next victim… In the darkest night, the snow had been falling down for a few hours in Little Milton. Now it was just past 11 and it was getting heavier. Small figures darted in between the shadows, giggling and screeching. They looked like small dwarfs but were far from friendly. Their Dark Master was coming, and before this night was through, they would cover the streets in red. The snowflakes were turning even now. In the gloom, the first Nogombi spotted its next victim. A young boy, Daniel Horn. But little did they realise what was about to happen to them. For Daniel was no ordinary boy. He had been waiting for them in the dark. And he snapped open his eyes. They were a fiery blue, full of goodness. He waved out his hand and the Nogombi’s were scattered like dominos. The wind picked up and blew all around them, the white and red snow swirling all around like they were trapped in some kind of snow globe. One remained and began to grow larger. The Dark Master. Its nose grew longer and its eyes were much larger. It screeched and ran forward but the boy did not feel scared or in any danger. He raised both hands into the air and stood up, before bringing his arms forward and clapped them together. The Master disintegrated before Daniel and he nodded, smiling to himself. There would be more evil on the way. But for now, the boy walked down the street into the dark and out into the darkness of the winter hour. END OF DAY ONE. DAY TWO: WINTER HORROR LAND. December 2nd. Garlton. Garlton was the neighbouring town of Little Milton. Terror would seize its grip on this county in the weeks ahead. All manner of horrible things were going to happen, but at the end someone would come to save them all. But for now, only darkness seeped into the quiet streets. It had been too quiet. For the past few days it had snowed. The ground was a lot thicker now; you would probably get swallowed up in it if you weren’t careful. Sam Farley looked out of his bedroom window at the quiet street below. He had been studying the history of the Occult for his college exam, but something caught his eye. He was sure he saw a dark shadow down there on the pavement, but now it was gone. It was getting late and he had to be up the next morning early. He was twenty seven and lived alone but that didn’t bother him. He was used to the peace and quiet and had been away from home for so many years. But now – and he hadn’t felt this way for so long – he felt afraid. Sam knew he wasn’t alone. The house had suddenly taken on a sinister presence and he didn’t like it. He pulled the curtains across the window and powered down his laptop. He went to freshen up and change into his lounge clothes. He took a drink of orange juice and felt a little better. He could feel a headache on though so decided to lie down and play some of his favourite music on his ipod. It was then that the music system in his room started up suddenly, almost making him jump out of his skin. It was playing an old Christmas classic: “Walking In A Winter Wonderland”, but it was a much slower, eerier version. It sounded like something you would get at those old funfair rides. It unnerved him and he went over to it, switching it off. No sooner had he got back into bed, it started again. He went to the wall and pulled out the plug. He needed a stronger drink. Sam went down the stairs, glancing at every shadow. Why was he so nervous? It wasn’t like him at all. Usually he wasn’t afraid of anything. The hairs on his back and neck were standing up on end. His body was covered in goosebumps. There was a silence in the house now and it was not a pleasant one. KNOCK. Sam almost jumped out of his skin. It was coming from the front door. He was the only one in his house and he knew it was too late for any visitors. The house had taken on an identity all of its own and every object looked out of place and… evil. The air had gotten mustier and staler, and it wasn’t just the thing at the door any more – the whole house had seemed to be surrounded by a terrifying force. KNOCK,KNOCK. Sam had reached the bottom of the stairs far more quickly than he would have liked. The knocks were now becoming louder and more regular. He was worried it would wake up the whole street. He swung open the door, afraid but ready to stand and fight, dragging him down to hell if need to. There was of course, no one there. He looked out and down the empty, snow covered street. It was only now he noticed the ground was red. He saw the shadow halfway down that of a woman. It started to stagger and creep towards him. The wind had picked up and leaves blew around him. Sam watched as the shadow sped so fast and quickly up to him he staggered back, slamming the door shut behind him. He was breathing heavily, dryness in his mouth. The horror of this land was covering his entire house, seeping through the walls and chilling his bones. He could hear the creaking of a door from the kitchen. Not wanting to but uncontrollably, Sam moved towards the sound. He peered in and saw the back door was ajar. It slammed shut suddenly, and the whole place began to shake. The cupboard doors banged open and shut, chairs shook and plates crashed from the shelves. Sam covered his ears and closed his eyes, falling to his knees. He began to breathe, trying to relax himself. The noise died down. It felt like an age before he opened his eyes again. All was still and nothing looked out of place. Had it all been a very horrid vision? It was then that he felt the cold, clammy hand land on his shoulder. Old, dark fingernails dug into his back. He could feel the things raspy breath on his neck, and he could have sworn the temperature had dropped several degrees. “JOIN ME…” The voice was old. Ancient. “JOIN ME IN THIS NEW WINTER HORROR LAND. TOGETHER, WE WILL SOAK IN THE BLOOD OF LOST SOULS.” Sam finally found words, but they were shaky and croaky. “N… Never. What you have planned… others will stop you.” The thing laughed and it made him shiver all over. “THEY WILL TRY.” The thing grabbed Sam’s neck and began to choke him. Sam was cruelly twisted around to face the shadow of the woman. The thing opened its eyes and Sam screamed. Silence in the house followed. A fresh batch of snow began to fall. In the dark street, a young boy approached the house, a look of determination on his face. It was going to be a long battle, but he wasn’t going to do it alone. Someone would be along to help him soon. All these towns and evil entities were going to be joined and taken care of. Whispers in the shadows. The twilight hour was approaching and an epic battle of good versus evil was just around the corner. In the darkness, the Dark Master watched the child go. It uttered a foul laugh. Soon He would rise. Soon… END OF DAY TWO. DAY THREE: THE HAUNTED CHRISTMAS TREE December 3rd. Hallow’s End. The strange old man had given Kirsten Glover the black tree. He said it was one of the oldest in the clearing and she should have it for her house. It was an ugly looking thing, with cracked branches and a withered appearance, but there was a strange spell over it that she couldn’t shake. Kirsten put the finishing touches to the tree. Decorations from last year and a few new ones. As she placed the angel on top, she was sure it creaked a little. As she stood back to admire her work, it felt strangely right to have this year, even thought it was not the usual green colour. She went to tidy up and do her dishes from earlier. The tree creaked some more, and the angel fell off suddenly to the floor. Kirsten was too busy in the kitchen to notice. It was then that the doorbell rang. Just in time – she was on her last dish. Drying her hands, she went to the door and opened it. No one was there, but there was a small present on the ground. Curious, Kirsten picked it up and looked at the red wrapping. It had no name or address on it. She looked out onto the street but it was all quiet. Too quiet. She closed the door quickly and went into the living room. Kirsten sat down on the sofa and unwrapped it, wondering who it could be from. Jack? Surprising her like this so early was kinda cute, and she would thank him for it when she next saw him. It was a small, crimson box. Kirsten opened it and took out a silver cross. It was larger than normal and had a silver chain. She smiled and put it around her neck. He would get an extra special thank you. She went into the kitchen to make herself a hot chocolate with marshmallows and looked out of the window. It had started to snow again. Would it ever let up? Returning to the living room, Kirsten turned on the telly and just in time to see her favourite reality show. But something had caught her eye. The tree. Had it moved? No… maybe it was her tired eyes playing tricks on her. Trees could not do that. She tried to concentrate on the show but the tree was bugging her. She put her chocolate down on the coffee table and stood up, peering closer at the tree. Kirsten noticed that the angel had fallen off. She bent down to pick it up. And that was her first mistake. The tree moved, the branches extending and wrapping themselves around her. Kirsten began to choke, the thorns digging into her arms and legs. They were wrapping themselves around her neck too. The tree loomed in, as if it was set to crush her. It almost seemed as if it was screaming at her. She could see eyes in the branches – all different sets of wide eyes, full of terror. In the middle was a large snapping mouth full of razor sharp teeth. Kirsten fought, trying to break free. In the tangle, her cross came loose and got caught on one of the branches. The tree shrieked and released its grip from her, the branch burning from the cross. She clasped her neck, noticing red marks on her body. She backed away and looked at the tree. It looked as if it was actually breathing, but she knew that was impossible. It sat there, watching her. The evil presence within it must be so strong that it could make this tree come alive. So many tortured souls… Kirsten could somehow feel them all. Was this cross a force for good? She had to try something. She held the cross out towards the tree, which began to move away from her. Good… It was working. The cross began to glow and a light shone out of it, hitting the tree. It shrieked and caught fire, the flames rising to the curtains. Kirsten coughed and left the room, grabbing her coat and phone before leaving. Her house and possessions would be insured. She was just glad she wouldn’t become part of that tree. As she ran out of the house and down the street, she bumped into a small boy. He looked at her and smiled. “You got the cross then,” he said, so calmly. Kirsten nodded. “It… It was alive. The tree…” The boy nodded. “There will be many more evil entities we will face together. If you want to live.” “Who are you?” Kirsten asked. The boy smiled. “A saviour. One who can put a stop to all of this. But I need your help to do this. Are you in?” Kirsten nodded. “What was that evil?” “Something from the Neverworld, a place in between our world and hell. It would have feasted on you and made you one of it’s own. You saved those tortured souls but more will be waiting. Let’s go.” Unknown to them, a part of one of the branches was stuck to Kirsten’s back and was already growing… END OF DAY THREE. DAY FOUR: THE ONE EYED CROW December 4th, Little Milton. The snow had turned red. It covered the ground and the evil was stirring. On Ever Lane, a crow flapped down onto the stone wall running all the way down. It cawed and ruffled its feathers. This was a different crow to others. It had been sent here for one purpose. It was larger than other crows. Its beak was cracked, almost grey. Its claws were a lot sharper. It also had one beady black eye in the middle of its large head. It was a Soul Carrier, and it would claim one more before tonight was through. The house it was outside was that of George Maxwell’s. It had been sat there for a good hour, but as George pulled up outside his house on his bike, he didn’t notice the creature. Not at first. He got off and entered the house, glad to be in from the cold. The temperature had definitely dropped in the last half hour. The crow’s darkest presence was being felt. George heard the caw before he entered his house. He turned to the stone wall but there was nothing there. Just the field stretching out far in the distance towards the dark trees. There could be things out there watching him. George was fourteen with blonde hair and tough features but he still got scared on occasion. He shivered and stepped into the hallway. He was glad to get into the warmth. His mum and dad would be home in a while to make his tea, even though it was getting quite late. He took off his duffle coat and hat, before pouring himself an orange juice. He would watch some telly while he waited… Sitting on top of the telly, was a large crow. It looked at him, trying to work him out. The thing that made George shiver the most, was the one eye it had. It looked like some kind of Cyclops. It cawed, flapping its wings. George wanted to turn and run but he could feel the bird drawing him to it. In an instant he was right up close to it, staring into its one, black eye. Their minds were now linked. The crow was feeding on his thoughts and memories. Not the good ones either. All the pain and loss he had suffered during his brother’s death, he couldn’t control it. Tears were streaming down his face and he couldn’t cry. Then there was a flash of light and he fell backwards to the living room floor. He looked and saw that the crow had gone. For the moment. There was a note lying next to him though. He picked this up and read the simple words on the front, etched in child-like writing: WATCH YOUR BACK. D. George had no idea who “D” was, but if it was them that saved him, he owed him one. He got up, a little shaky and with a sore head, but otherwise OK. He shuddered and went around the house. He wouldn’t be content until he knew the crow was gone. It took him a while, but there was no sign of the creature anywhere. He relaxed a little and went up to his room, changing and freshening up a little. This made him feel better. The door downstairs opened. Good, it would be his mum and dad back. But when there was no answer he got a little worried again. It was getting colder in here. George got to the landing and peered over. He could make out the front door, creaking in the wind. Then he heard the caw again, coming from below. He gripped the bannisters, fear gripping him again. He needed to get a better look. The caw came again, right beside him and so loud he lost his balance. George went over the bannister, but he was able to grip one of the poles in between. He hung there, trying desperately to hold on. He could feel his hand slipping… then he fell. But not all the way. He was actually hovering in mid-air. He tried to look but couldn’t see who – or what – was doing this. He floated down to the floor and turned to face a boy of about ten, who he didn’t recognise but was thankful for and full of hope. The boy looked stern and serious. “George… Stand back! Now!” George nodded and backed away. There was a loud caw and the crow flew down from the landing, talons out and eye staring straight at the boy. Daniel held out his hand and grabbed the crow’s neck. The whole house began to shake, and George felt it was going to come down at any minute. The crow started to grow, and Daniel had to let go. It was enormous, filling the space and its large talons scraped the floor. It one black eye burned red and it looked as if it was about to charge them both. From out of nowhere, Kirsten appeared, in a long leather cloak, twirling two swords. She sliced through the crow and it fell to the ground. A black smoke thundered out of it and out of the door into the night. Daniel lowered his head, wishing he could have stopped it. He approached George and smiled, who was stunned for words. “A lot to take in, I know,” Daniel said. “That was a Soul Carrier. One of the few that remains on this Earth. I need you to be strong and believe in the goodness in people, George. Over the next few days it will be more important than ever.” George nodded. He couldn’t say anything. Daniel clicked his fingers and the bird vanished. George watched as Kirsten and Daniel walked out into the night. Another soul saved. But there was much work to be done and dark times were ahead. Before Christmas was over, a new sacrifice had to be made before peace came to the world once more… END OF DAY FOUR. DAY FIVE: BLACK FROST December 5th, Garlton. In the dark the first of the black frost hit the window frames. Jenny Ross had no idea where they had come from, but something about it didn’t look right. The way it hung down underneath the window sill… the way it glistened. It almost looked alive. And she was sure it had grown since this morning. It was under each sill of her house and this unnerved her. Jenny looked at the frosty glass and prayed that wouldn’t get on there too. She hurried inside, taking off her thick jacket. The heating had been on for a while and that soothed her. It had been a stressful day but now she could relax, put her feet up, and read her favourite book. The town had been unusually quiet today, but maybe everyone was waiting for the mad rush in a week before Christmas. There was something strange in the air though that Jenny couldn’t quite put her finger on. Jenny tried to concentrate on her book, but the frosted glass on her living room window made her distracted. It was definitely turning black and seemed to be moving, almost shimmering like water. It was like one of those kaleidoscope things she had had as a child, patterns changing before her. Except these weren’t nice patterns. The shapes twisted and distorted, looking more like faces. They took on hideous disguises, half a dozen of them, all changing before her. They had sunken grey eyes and mouths in the shape of moans. And were those hands pressed up on the glass? She looked away, not wanting to see any more. Yet the power forced her to look again and the banging on the window began. It was just one black face looking at her now, black and frosty, shimmering. It had dark black eyes, large and with no emotion. It opened its mouth long, moaning at her. The small black hands banged on the window, trying to get in. The glass was beginning to crack. Jenny wanted to run but she was frozen to the spot, her gaze fixated on this strange, evil entity. The room began to shake as the glass burst, the cold air rushing in. The thing swooped towards her in a misty trail, covering her whole living room in a black frost, making her breath chilled and her body numb. She could feel it wrap around her, tightening its grip. Jenny stood up, now under this things control. It entered her mouth, seizing her up and turning her eyes to black. Her skin was now cracked with the cold, black and icy, her fingers cracked. She let out a long inhuman scream and she walked slowly out of the house, the black frost covering up everything she touched. As she left the house, the black frost grew. Detective Bob Morris watched as his town was falling apart around him. People were in a panic and he didn’t blame them. Some kind of outbreak had occurred. What they had nicknamed Black Frost was attaching itself to houses all over town. He had no idea where it had come from, but he knew he had to stop it. The darkness was seeping in all around him, and he was already three men down. Possessed people were everywhere, and the only way to take them down seemed to be with hot water. He had a hose on his back and he fired one onto an approaching woman now – that approaching woman happened to be Jenny. Morris just hoped he didn’t kill anyone doing this. So far it just looked as if they had been knocked out by the force, and the black frost had melted from their bodies. He hadn’t met more than a handful of people who hadn’t been infected yet, but now he had to be careful where he went. The black frost was on approaching the ground and if one bit touched him he would be infected too. He had been close on a couple of occasions. Yet now Morris felt this was not the end. It felt too easy to be. There was a bigger threat just around the corner he couldn’t quite see. Morris turned onto Marks Way and noticed this area hadn’t been infected yet. The town had been quarantined off when this outbreak began, but it would be only a matter of time before someone got in. He held out his gun and torch, ready for any signs of trouble. Who knew what could be out there in the dark? As he went further down the street, he noticed a large, black iced sculpture in the centre of the street. This was the source. Where all the evil energy was coming from. It didn’t look to be guarded… but that’s when Morris saw them. The three men who he once knew as friends, came snarling towards him. Luckily, he was ready for them, and turned the hose on them all. He watched as they slid away. The mound before Morris suddenly broke, and a hideous creature emerged. It was black and almost ice like, shimmering in the moonlight. It had a long crooked nose and a mouth full of sharp teeth. It’s arms and legs were spindly, and had dark claws. The eyes were the worst though – dark sockets with small, staring white pupils, looking at him. Morris was glad he had enough water in the large pack on his back to take care of this thing. The monster snarled and lunged for him, but Morris had turned on the hose again just in time. The force almost knocked him back but he remained firm and steady. The creature was putting up some fight, trying to push back. The hose was turned on full blast. Morris watched as the thing began to melt before him, its hideous screams echoing in the air. It fell into a large, gooey black puddle, steaming and seeping into the ground. Morris turned off the hose and staggered against the nearby wall, wiping the sweat away from his forehead. That had been a close call. Now with the host dead, surely everyone would return to normal? The sun was coming up and everyone who had fallen was coming around. Morris breathed a sigh of relief. It had been tough but the town would pull through. They always had in the past. Maybe they wouldn’t remember the horrors of tonight. He could only hope. Unaware to Morris, something was stuck to the back of his neck. A bit of the black frost had remained and would soon take over… END OF DAY FIVE. DAY SIX: THE CROOKED ELF December 6th, Hallow’s End. The giggle rose up from nearby. Dean Hampshire swerved around, pointing his torch out like a gun. He had to go through with this stupid dare. Otherwise he would be a laughing stock at school the next day. This was meant to be one of the most haunted graveyards in the county, and it was already living up to its reputation. The tops of the graves were covered in snow, but each ones letters had faded over time, so it was hard to make out some of the poor souls who had been buried here. There were some in the far left of the yard that were even older, and this is where Dean stood now. He was shivering, not just from the cold, but from fright. His cold breath came out in rasps and he could see it in the moonlight. There were twisted trees at the back here too, behind the old crypt. This place was hardly used much anymore – just a place to tell ghost stories to frighten the children. Well, Dean was definitely frightened. He had been standing here for too long, and couldn’t find this so called Diary Of Little Marty anywhere. Glen had said it was at the back, but maybe it was in the trees? Dean didn’t want to go further back than he had to, and that giggle had proper spooked him. He didn’t know why he hadn’t run there and then. But he had to do this. Amy Green would be so proud at him in the morning. Dean heard the creepy giggle again, closer this time. It was like it was coming from behind one of the graves. He was forcing himself not to do this, but curiosity was killing him. He caught something out the corner of his eye, darting towards the trees. A small shadow, resembling a human. But this was far from human. Dean knew this now. But it was too late. He shined his torch down and saw a hideous sight. It looked like a small elf, with its green waistcoat and oversized shoes and green hat. It did have pointed ears but it was the face that made Dean shiver. It was red and slimy, and it had a long nose with large, bulbous staring eyes and a wicked grin. It screeched at him and darted forward, jumping onto Dean’s back. Dean thrashed around, trying to reach for it as it dug its sharp nails in. Dean fell to the ground and lay there panting. The thing was now off his back – maybe he had shaken it off? But where had it gone? He could still hear its small feet, pitter pattering around him, stalking him. Before he could get up, it had grabbed a hold of his head and was pulling him towards the trees. It was so strong for such a small creature. Dean could hear it whooping and cheering, a hideous, alien sound, and he knew this thing was not of this world. He looked up at the dark sky and the stars, wishing he hadn’t come here and hoping someone would rescue him. He wanted to be home, safe in his own bed. Dean suddenly came to a stop in a clearing in the trees. There was a fire burning and about a dozen more creatures had appeared, each more hideous than the last and surrounding him in a circle. It looked as if his time was up, until one of them approached him, holding a book in its withered hands. It passed it to Dean, egging him to look at it. Dean took it fearfully, looking at the front cover. THE DIARY OF LITTLE MARTY. This was what he had been searching for! What were this scary creatures wanting him to do with this now? Dean opened it and words began to materialise on the page in blood. He was chanting before he realised what he was doing in a foreign language. The creatures around him were chanting too. Had they all foreseen this and knew what was coming next? Dean had to know what happened to Marty and who he really was. It was then he knew that this creature who had handed him the book was really Marty. Or, who had been Marty at some point. The diary was some kind of key to unlocking all the memories, and they all rushed into Dean’s head. It was some kind of Hexed spell put on Marty, making him into one of these Crooked Elves. Every one of these creatures had been a human at one point. Dean nodded and knew it was his fate. He couldn’t leave here. He had to help these creatures find whoever did this to them. Marty moved forward and drew a fingernail along Dean’s arm, drawing blood. Marty then did the same to his arm and joined them both together, mixing each other’s blood. Dean now knew what was happening. He could feel his body shrink as he was becoming one of them. There was, surprisingly, very little pain involved. Dean welcomed it. He could feel a new power inside of him, as he shrunk down to their size. Marty handed him a spear and the others watched on, awaiting new instructions from their new leader. The parting in the trees was where they were all heading. Dean took one last look back at the graveyard, the graves now looming up before him. Once he had been scared but now he was full of determination and anger. These were not evil creatures any more. They had to be saved and he would do this. The diary had given them one name in which to find the person responsible: Glen Morgan. Dean smiled and showed sharp teeth. He would pay for what he had done to them all. The curse would be put upon him and he would suffer. The other creatures must have heard this too, for they giggle and jumped around with joy. Dean could feel a giggle leave his mouth too, which wasn’t human any more. He didn’t care. He loved it. In this Dark Hour he would fight back. There rise was just the beginning. END OF DAY SIX. (Dean will return on Day Ten!)
Posted on: Sun, 07 Dec 2014 00:19:57 +0000
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