Page 19 of House of Horrors

Everything felt kind of unreal before. It was all soft and floaty, like moving through a slow, unfocused dream. Now my eyes roll, something I don’t quite understand overtaking me. A violent force rips my mind apart, the chains breaking. Something dark and menacing stirs within me.

I raise my hand. Tenebrous energy emanates from it, prompting my mind to see myself differently. I am a vessel for the dark being inside of me. My new deity.

Fleeting images of nocturnal gatherings and ancient symbols burst into my mind. Ice wraps around my spine, and power as old as the earth awakens within my veins. Distant hymns echo, calling me home to a darkness that’s always been swimming inside me. My body shakes to this God’s sound, its unholiness consuming me. Everything moves too quickly for me to feel any doubt. I know it’s right.

A mission calls my name, the ancient voice speaking in a thousand tongues. I must cleanse Grimwood and eliminate the disease spreading through the town. My brow furrows while I quickly search through memories that aren’t my own. I don’t understand what needs to be destroyed. What does this mean?

Frustration builds within my body, like the unsettling prickle of static electricity dancing across my skin.

You need to understand, my God tells me with such ferocity that it rattles my bones, forcing me to pay attention.

“I will understand,” I murmur in a dreamlike state. Everything from my hands to my feet vibrates.

Bright light overwhelms my vision with a sharp, blinding intensity. The world blurs, dissolving into a resonant hum that echoes in my ears, as if the air itself is alive, and a surge of energy translocates me out of this world.

Eleven

Jason

Screams echo around me as people hurry to find safety. Stiff shoulders bump into me and I stumble forward, the world unfamiliar beneath my feet. My head whips around. Thatch roofs are on fire, and a bell tolls loudly.

My eyebrows crease. Something is wrong.

I take in the people desperate to escape. Baskets fall from the hands of women in homespun skirts, while men in patched breeches and leather shoes push carts through the chaos.

Understanding dawns on me, as impossible as it is.

I don’t know how I’m seeing this in vivid clarity, but I’m standing in the past.

Nicky has concocted something truly crazy. He told us we would see new planets, and that little bastard was right.

Spinning, I take in the center of the town. It may be different, with buildings made from clay and stone, and wooden shutters covering the windows instead of glass, but it’s still clearly the same. The town hall flashes from past to present quickly, confirming my suspicions.

I’m looking at Grimwood, only hundreds of years ago.

A riderless horse rushes past me pulling an empty carriage. The smell of burning wood and charred meat thickens the air. I cover my mouth and nose, my eyes beginning to water.

The crowd surges, pushing me forward, forcing me to move, and that’s when I see them.

Grotesque humans.

It’s as if they’ve been experimented on and it’s gone horribly wrong. Extra eyes appear in places they shouldn’t, and bone-like spikes protrude from their backs. Their skin has turned green and bubbly, rotting from the inside. Nature and life itself seem to be pushing back against these creatures’ very existence.

Blights, the God whispers in my ear. These vile creatures are blights.

Disgust and horror curdle like sour milk within my stomach. The monsters move, and creamy discharge seeps from patches of glistening green flesh while writhing parasites ooze from blackened holes. Sickly dark veins protrude from their flesh, squirming as if something is alive. Disease clings to their bodies, infection blooming into swollen pustules and lesions until they are walking, festering wounds.

I look around rapidly, taking in the blights infesting the area like a zombie horde.

Their limbs are bulbous and disfigured, some once-humans more transformed than others, though some don’t look human at all. I take in a blight that seems to have mutated into another. Its flesh balloons outwards, mottled with purple rot and toxic green pus bubbling beneath the surface. Two malformed skulls bulge from the upper body, their jaws clacking while they hunt for their next victim.

This is fucked up.

My eyes widen as I watch them move unnaturally toward people. They’re fast. Yet their bodies seem to be melting, their flesh sagging under the weight of all that sickness, and each wet squelch makes me shudder. My throat tightens and I force down the urge to gag. I want to shout for them to run, but my jaw is clenched shut. All I can do is watch.

A male villager falls to the ground, pushed over carelessly by the crowd, and a blight quickly descends on him, ready to feast on his flesh and bones. Dread consumes me. The man screams, his mouth wide open, and the creature spews black sludge into it until he chokes to death. My lips twist in revulsion. I want to look away, but I can’t.

See what happens. The voice is sad. The weight of the God’s grief squeezes my heart until I can barely breathe. I had no idea that this was part of Grimwood’s history. That monsters exist.