The sound of stomping feet echoed down the long hallway, getting closer and closer until the heavy oak door slammed open. A young man burst through, panting and wheezing as he looked around at the room’s occupants.
“Hurry, get up! There’s something coming!” he screamed at them. The people in the room stared blankly back at him, confused. Angered even more by their reaction, he moved forward and screamed again, “Come on! Why is no one moving?!” He looked around and there was still no answer.
Thinking quickly, he turned and flipped the lock on the door over and turned out the lights. He turned and walked into the center of the room as one man stood up and grabbed him by his arm.
“Please, just relax. Here, sit down,” said the man, and he dragged him over, forcing him down into the cold plastic seat. He rocked back and forth, slowly looking around the room. The oldest man in the room now stood up and walked over to the man who had come yelling.
The old man was sitting in the very front of the room, and so, had to stride a long way up to the side of the disheveled man. His seat swiveled around mindlessly behind his desk as he left it. “Now son, what is the matter?” he asked politely looking down at the young boy.
“There’s something out there. I swear it! It looked almost human, but it couldn’t be. It was so… so… so… black,” muttered the boy under his breath. The man stooped down, his tie draping down slowly over the desk in front of the young man. He reached down and grabbed the boy’s shoulder, his tight dress shirt pulled up over his wrist.
“Jimmy,” said the man as he turned towards the door, “go and get the nurse." He turned back to the boy who was now repeating the word “black,” over and over again lightly under his breath.
“Yes, Mr. Alberts,” said Jimmy as he turned towards the door. Instantly, the young distraught man jumped up and flung himself at the boy leaving the room. The chair and desk he was sitting at went careening through the air, slamming into the ground, sending pens, pencils, and books bouncing off of the ground.
“No! Don’t open the door! Dear God please! I hardly escaped the first time!” screamed the boy as he dove and grabbed Jimmy by the pant leg, refusing to allow him to leave the room. Jimmy slipped but wrestled the man off of him as he continued on towards the door. Mr. Alberts walked forward and grabbed the boy by his arm so he wouldn’t be able to stop Jimmy a second time.
“Please son, just relax. Nothing is wrong,” said the old man in his ear. Jimmy finally reached the door and slowly bent down to unlock it when he heard something outside, causing him to stop in his tracks. Footsteps reverberated down the corridor outside and then stopped somewhere near their door. Jimmy’s shaky hand went out to unlock the door when a deafening blast exploded through the room.
The lock and knob of the door exploded, sending shrapnel in all directions. Jimmy quickly felt blood covering his face. The man shook himself from the old man’s grasp and crawled under the nearest desk. More explosions echoed through the room as the children around him began screaming. The commotion went on for a while and in the confusion, the desk over his head was flipped off of him.
The boy slowly turned around and looked up to see the demon for all he was. He was very human-like, but there was no way a human could ever commit such atrocities. His face was completely black except for his teeth and his eyes, his cold blue eyes. Slowly the demon raised his long weapon up to what he thought was his shoulder and fire spilled forth from it.
The boy felt the air leave him as something hit him in the chest. He fell back on his shoulders and coughed, sending blood all down the front of his shirt. He felt a warm fluid spread over throughout his shirt and wash over him as an ungodly cold filled him. A shaky hand went up to his own chest and felt dozens of little holes penetrating his chest cavity. A tear of both pain and sorrow rolled down his face. He looked up to see the demon throw down his long weapon.
He looked down at the boy as he pulled out a second, much smaller weapon. In his last glimpses of life, he could have sworn that he could see the demon slide something up and over his face as he turned the small weapon on himself. As his vision faded, he heard the final blast and felt the warm blood of the demon’s head splatter across his face. A low groaning siren echoed as the life fled from his body.
Written by Theawesomegman
Content is available under CC BY-SA