Eternal damnation

He knew this was the start.  The beginning of the end. He had been offered a deal he possibly could not refuse. And the reward for his services? Immortality The thought echoed in his mind. What more could he want?  He trembled with excitement and anticipation.  It was of course a shock when ‘they’ had approached him and opened up to him, telling him what they were and what they wanted.  He was afraid at first as their dirty and ghostly appearance shocked him into a silent terror.  These things were of myth and legend how could they be possibly real?  He remembered those piercing yellow eyes how they looked straight through him and seemed to penetrate his inner thoughts.  The ground had almost appeared to shake and move beneath him as he stood there watching them in horrific fascination.  He blinked allowing himself to check if this truly was real. Closing his eyes he cleared his mind.  His thoughts tumbled

The sound of a ringing sensation pulsating through ear drums woke Summer Brooke from her peaceful daydream.  As her eyes finally began to focus, the masses of her clueless classmates stood from their weathered lecture seats, and started to shuffle out of the lecture theatre.  Her professor, a middle aged woman, plump and short stared venomously at her. “Miss Brooke, can you come here please, I need to speak to you before you leave” her voice bellowed. Summer knew what this was about, that she had not completed any of her psychology study project or work expereince for the past 3 weeks.  How possibly could she?  Her mum needed her more now then ever since the covid pandemic and losing her job. Her mum had spiralled into a deep sadness that no matter how hard she tried to make her laugh or do things for her, it always resulted in her mums depression returning. Summer's younger sister did not quite help or support the situation. Spending herself lock

The smoke from the wooden fire drifted from a nearby village and settled over the long luscious fields.  The morning was cloudy, dark: dense smoke blotted out the sun and it seemed to drain the colour from everything.Summer sat up, shifting her body in the long grass of the field.  She knew she was dreaming.Memories flashed abruptedly. Catching herself running outside to face Lucien who had immediately disappered into thin air. The panic that rose from her...not because Lucien had disappeared but because she wanted answers. An overwhelming feeling that she wanted to be near him. She rushed back into the house, hearing the chaos that was erupting over Hattie's slashed cheek, and then she had fallen asleep on the sofa.She tried to wake from her dream, but was imprisoned to watch the scene unfold. In front of her, women were working, their black hats bobbed as their charcoal, long black dresses swayed like shadows against the blood red ear

Elizabeth Autumn paced the concrete floors, bleach in hand to tackle the great stainless steel sink that had wanted to be cleaned for quite some time.  Back and forth she propelled her hand with the hot mixture of water and bleach, getting rid of blood and other various bodily functions that she had to deal with day after day.  Lizzie, as her friends called her, was proud of her laboratory, its white washed walls, had all the high tech equipment stuck to it.  She had only been in the job for a few years and already she had received such a lovely place to work in, much to the distaste of her more experienced colleagues. As she stood over the stainless steel table, her hand reached up to the fluorescent light that was buzzing over head. “Doctor Hopkins, would you be so kind?” In response a large man, no older then sixty strolled over and took the light. “Please place it over the stomach area”.

Detective Inspector Smith mumbled as he walked out of the forensic lab, feet scratching the tiled floor as he went.  It was a dark corridor; full of twisted low ceilinged rooms, as he passed he noticed a potent smell of bleach rush up his nostrils.  Harper, who had rushed ahead, stopped and watched him approach.  At the entrance of the forensic building stood a figure, Smith taking an instant dislike observed that the man was about six foot two, dark hair and eyes, pale features, and wore the most unusual clothing. The boy looked no more then twenty, but had an aura about him that reflected confidence and boldness.  As he stared at Smith the boy reluctantly took a step forward, bowed in an old fashion way then he straightened up and extended his hand.  Smith not expecting such a gesture, especially from a ‘British teenager’, shook his hand tightly then released it.  The boy did not seem to even flinch at the strengt