And falling to the ground he now stood on, was the reminder of that cinder he had felt in his dreams. The thumping at his foot, equaled to the beating of his own heart, moving closer into coalescence. The thistle and shrubbery around swaying as if the very earth bowed to it at passing.
Mr. Dolling stood at attention but not because of want, but of a fear so strong that it seemed to have taken control over his mind. A numbness that coursed through his limbs. It was this very same feeling that had caught him by surprise that night at the manor. He fully understood now what it meant then.
And, then it spoke; a voice strangely coarse as almost as if it had learned to mimic the cadence of a woman and a man. "Do not be afraid, my friend," it whispered in his ear, drowning out the wind.
Feeling the warmth on his cheek overtake him, as subtle as a fever takes a man into the night. He felt himself slowly numbing away from reality. The wind had seized its constant howling and all he could do now is listen to the silence.
His mind raced desperately trying to piece together the actions that had brought him here. Had he made a mistake coming to Rosenberg? Or had it been a cruel trick he had simply fallen into.
The entity he could not bring himself to look on, was now in full view under the limelight of the moon.
To this, he collapsed as the the ringing sunk his heart to the point of taking his breath away.
YOU ARE READING
Where There Is Nothing
ParanormalWhen a mysterious stranger calls upon the expertise of Father Arthur Dolling, he soon discovers that the lines between reality and fantasy have begun to blur, and the only way to uncover the truth is to delve deeper into the dark underbelly of the i...
