Acolyte (The Wildermoor Apocalypse Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

the edge of his bed staring at the chunky gold-trimmed clock on his wall.  The time was 11:10am and he still sat shrouded in darkness.  He could not bring himself to open the curtains and welcome in another day, knowing what the day would likely bring him.  Since his visits to Dr. Thacker had been increased to twice-weekly he had seen The Reaper every day without fail, sometimes even several times an hour.
     
    *****
     
    The first time the huge shadowy figure had visited him was when he was just seven years old. By then he had volunteered himself as a prisoner in his bedroom away from his parents. This was because he had born witness to some form of abuse from his father to his mother, ranging from verbal berating to holding a kitchen knife to her throat.  On other occasions, he had suffered his father’s wrath himself, as the welts and bruises across his back and legs proved. Careful not incriminate himself, his father had never struck him in the face.
    The only way Colin had seen to avoid this was to stay away from his parents altogether and only report to the lower floor of the house to pick up his meals or to leave through the back yard on his way to school.  In the end, he didn’t leave the house for weeks and his schooling was terminated at the age of nine.
    One night he had been woken up by the sounds of screaming and slamming that he had become used to. He had wondered in what position his father had his mother pinned this time.  He had seen it all and nothing surprised him anymore.  Emotion had become a distant memory for Colin as he had trained himself to be soulless.  Emotion led to caring and when you care about someone or something it could hurt.  Ignorance and avoidance had been the only answer.  On the night in question, the screaming had not seemed as if it would cease so Colin had pulled his head to his chest and clamped his eyes shut as hard as he could.
    That had been when the smell came.  And then the searing heat.  It had all happened at once and so seamlessly that he had failed to acknowledge it as real.  The room had filled with an odour that stuck in the back of his throat tickling his tonsils, making him want to gag.  The smell of burning flesh had met with suffocating warmth that had appeared to be radiating around Colin’s bed.
    Colin had fought to close his eyes and make the smell and heat disappear but it had only grown stronger until he felt as though he was choking, gagging, unable to breathe.  Colin had thrown back the covers but could see no flames or burning bodies.  His room was as it always had been.
    But as he had shifted his body over to lie on his left side, his comfortable side, he had seen Him. Or It. The figure had towered almost to the ceiling and stood what seemed at the time to be ten feet wide.  It had arms; it vaguely resembled human.  But it was shrouded in black from head-to-toe, a heavy hood pulled up over its head and a void so dark at the front that he could not make out a face.   The putrid smell of burning flesh had returned slowly until it overcame Colin to the point he had lurched to the opposite side of his bed, thrown his head down and promptly brought up what little he had eaten.
    As he had turned back trembling, towards the figure - his throat now burning - two shrivelled, red shapes had appeared at the ends of the arms of the cloak.  Hands.  The skin had appeared red raw, blistered and cracked with heat.  They had been bleeding but the figure had moved the fingers as freely as Colin could his own, clenching and unclenching his fists in a display of perfect dexterity.
    The moment It had lifted its head enough for Colin to make out two red orbs within the void of its hood, he had once again felt as though he was surrounded by flames.  The figure had not moved but hung in the corner of the room.  Colin’s internal flight response had kicked in, moving his legs underneath him whilst his mind was still locked as one with the shadowy figure.