08-23-2014, 08:23 PM
Elias remained on the old man's heels as they trudged through the snow. Along the way, he realized their primary means of escape, the SUV, was abandoned behind them, and the distance only grew farther. They were quite literally alone, surrounded by gnarled trees and white fields. He told himself he didn't care and blocked out the emotion creeping up his spine.
The doorway into the old man's house was a black portal that surely led to wretchedness. Hovel and grime wafted from the passageway, and Elias turned to cast a grim glance back at the others.
Veso shook his head. The others were none to eager to be the first to follow. Then all their gazes turned to Hans when he posed the question they were all thinking.
Elias took a deep breath. A corpse-like smile of acceptance etched the corners of his mouth. "I guess we will sacrifice something."
His gaze shifted to Tony, and his tone turned serious. "You don't have to do this. I can go alone. Its my uncle; my search."
His attempt at self-sacrifice was not well-accepted. They were in this together. He could accept that, but if they were all murdered in there, he'd be saving himself first and anyone else second.
He pluged himself inside.
He was blinded by darkness. His footfalls were creaks on a wood floor that softened under his weight. Rotted. The scent of decay Dan warned them about was mold.
In a flash, power rushed through the house and Elias whipped around to witness Veso crafting their forces into a sphere of orange fire. The hallway was cast in an eerie glow, but at least they could see.
Elias studied the fire until he thought he would be able to reproduce it if necessary. His own power was slippery, and to reach for it right then he knew would be to grapple at wave-worn rock. Veso pushed his way nearer to the front of the group so they might follow his light. It hovered over their heads and Elias could discern more of their surroundings.
They passed a stairway that he had no intention of ever climbing. The old man yelled from the back of the house, but his orders echoed like bellowing souls caught on the breeze, but Elias paused at the bottom step. Wood-rot frames with broken glass hung askew against peeling wallpaper. The nearest one held a portrait of a little girl with long black hair. Her eyes were empty, though. As though the photograph had actually inhaled her soul.
"Come on,"
Elias said quietly, more so than he intended. As though his subconscious was unwilling to disturb the uneasy weight of their surroundings.
They filed into a room Elias could only guess was meant to be a kitchen. A brick fireplace roasted a small, propane-fueled fire. Scampering feet skuttled in the ceiling above. Elias stayed still while the intruder scraped its way down the inside of the wall and disappear under the floor. He shared a glance with Hans, but while the other man cringed, Elias was ice.
He backed in to make room for the others to join when his boot dinged gently against glass. Huge jars filled with cloudy liquid sat on the floor along either side. The bottom of his coat brushed up against their dingy surface, and Elias quickly pulled his gaze away. Whatever stewed within he did not want to know. When a glint caught his eye, he turned toward the gleam half hidden behind a cabinet door left ajar. So uncharacteristic in an otherwise infested, withering home, he could not help himself but to pull the door open.
Cleavers. Stored neatly. Pristine and shining. Their handles were pure black. The steel sharp enough to split a hair.
When he showed the others, his gaze narrowed, considering what it meant. "I guess he likes to cleave things."
Stating the obvious, a morbid smile ghosted his lips.
The others did not find the same humor Elias did. He shrugged and pushed the cabinet door securely shut.
The old man burst in, arms laden with supplies.
The doorway into the old man's house was a black portal that surely led to wretchedness. Hovel and grime wafted from the passageway, and Elias turned to cast a grim glance back at the others.
Veso shook his head. The others were none to eager to be the first to follow. Then all their gazes turned to Hans when he posed the question they were all thinking.
Elias took a deep breath. A corpse-like smile of acceptance etched the corners of his mouth. "I guess we will sacrifice something."
His gaze shifted to Tony, and his tone turned serious. "You don't have to do this. I can go alone. Its my uncle; my search."
His attempt at self-sacrifice was not well-accepted. They were in this together. He could accept that, but if they were all murdered in there, he'd be saving himself first and anyone else second.
He pluged himself inside.
He was blinded by darkness. His footfalls were creaks on a wood floor that softened under his weight. Rotted. The scent of decay Dan warned them about was mold.
In a flash, power rushed through the house and Elias whipped around to witness Veso crafting their forces into a sphere of orange fire. The hallway was cast in an eerie glow, but at least they could see.
Elias studied the fire until he thought he would be able to reproduce it if necessary. His own power was slippery, and to reach for it right then he knew would be to grapple at wave-worn rock. Veso pushed his way nearer to the front of the group so they might follow his light. It hovered over their heads and Elias could discern more of their surroundings.
They passed a stairway that he had no intention of ever climbing. The old man yelled from the back of the house, but his orders echoed like bellowing souls caught on the breeze, but Elias paused at the bottom step. Wood-rot frames with broken glass hung askew against peeling wallpaper. The nearest one held a portrait of a little girl with long black hair. Her eyes were empty, though. As though the photograph had actually inhaled her soul.
"Come on,"
Elias said quietly, more so than he intended. As though his subconscious was unwilling to disturb the uneasy weight of their surroundings.
They filed into a room Elias could only guess was meant to be a kitchen. A brick fireplace roasted a small, propane-fueled fire. Scampering feet skuttled in the ceiling above. Elias stayed still while the intruder scraped its way down the inside of the wall and disappear under the floor. He shared a glance with Hans, but while the other man cringed, Elias was ice.
He backed in to make room for the others to join when his boot dinged gently against glass. Huge jars filled with cloudy liquid sat on the floor along either side. The bottom of his coat brushed up against their dingy surface, and Elias quickly pulled his gaze away. Whatever stewed within he did not want to know. When a glint caught his eye, he turned toward the gleam half hidden behind a cabinet door left ajar. So uncharacteristic in an otherwise infested, withering home, he could not help himself but to pull the door open.
Cleavers. Stored neatly. Pristine and shining. Their handles were pure black. The steel sharp enough to split a hair.
When he showed the others, his gaze narrowed, considering what it meant. "I guess he likes to cleave things."
Stating the obvious, a morbid smile ghosted his lips.
The others did not find the same humor Elias did. He shrugged and pushed the cabinet door securely shut.
The old man burst in, arms laden with supplies.