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by JMB
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Tragedy · #1275418
Want to get plublished. Fear and greed can do terrible things.
On the walls, the flames preformed a large play of shadows in the otherwise unlit room. Raylan sat across from Salvador. The smell of burning wood possessed the entire building and soaked the walls, floors and ceilings. Between them was a small, glass coffee table exposing the termite eaten floor below it.

“It sure is a nice night isn’t it?” Salvador asked as he gazed out at the calm, windless night.

“Yeah, it is,” Raylan replied as he looked at a fly that had begun making its way into his cup of tea.

“It’s the kind of night that makes you wanna go on a walk.”

Raylan reached over to swat away the filthy insect that had decided to invade his beverage. In the process he saw something in the open doorway of Salvador’s room. He stopped and looked up to see what it was. It was a man. He was glareing down at him, stabbing him with his eyes. Raylan became entranced with fear as he stared back at him.

“Wouldn’t you agree?” Salvador asked.

Raylan made no reply.

“Raylan?”

Raylan came out of his hypnotized state and looked back at Salvador. “Are you

OK?” Salvador asked.

“Who is that?” Raylan asked as he pointed to the person whom was still standing in the doorway.

Salvador turned his head it the direction of his finger. “Who’s who?”

“That guy over there.”

“I don’t see anyone.”

“He’s right there!” Raylan shouted.

“There’s nobody there,” Salvador stated calmly.

“He’s right there!” Raylan repeated as he got up out of his seat.

Salvador violently grabbed his arm. “You know what you’re problem is?” he paused for a moment before resuming, “you’re tired. Why don’t you take a nap. Don’t drive home though, you might hit Little Bo Peep. Go up stairs and crash there, all right.”
Without thinking Raylan muttered, “All right.” He got up and headed for the ancient steps. He looked back. The man was still there.

Raylan began ascending the staircase. His legs were as strong as two pieces of straw supporting an elephant. Salvador’s eyes followed him as he waited for him to vanish into the floor above.

Once Raylan was out of sight the apparition walked across the room and sat in the seat Raylan had recently occupied. “Ya think it’s gonna work?” it asked Salvador.

“Clyde, of course it is. You saw his expression when I told him I couldn’t see you. He’s scared stiff right now. The slightest thing will make his heart explode!”

“What if something goes wrong?”

“Trust me, it’s gonna be perfect. Once he dies we’ll be able to take over his company and become the richest people in the state, he told me himself,” he chuckled, “out of the thirty years that I Knew him he was never afraid of the dark. But right now I bet ya anything he has all the lights on.”

“All right,” the other smiled back as he plucked out the fly that was swimming in

Raylan’s tea. He threw it to the ground. It made a soft splat.

“You know what to do, right?”

“You bet.”

Salvador placed a key on the table; Clyde picked it up and placed it in his shirt pocket. “Remember, he’s a very heavy sleeper, for the most part, so you’ll be able to sneak in easily. Also he’ll be in the only locked room. I’m sorry for repeating, I was just makin’ sure you remember,” Salvador informed.

#

Raylan was sleeping with the lights on; at least, he tried to sleep. If that person, spirit or whatever it was came into his room he would have a chance of seeing it and be prepared.

Then he thought again. Maybe, he did not want to see him. This being began haunting the house, now it was haunting his very mind. The eyes that were bent into a sinister glare, hands that shook and twisted insanely, the evil grin, the fact that only he could see it pounded on the sides of his skull. He wished he could be blind to its presence like Salvador.

Perhaps it was a hallucination like Salvador had suggested. Maybe he was tired. Possibly, he was insane. The blankets quivered with his body. It was too vivid to be in his head. It had to be real. He could not think. His eyes shifted in every direction glancing at every shadow to see what was mingling in them. He found nothing, yet.
He got up from his comforting bed. His trembling hand reached for the lock of the door that stood on the other side of the room.

His pistol waited for him in his belt. He grabbed it. It was cold as the arctic tundra, making him shake worse than before.

Once again, he walked over to his bed. He never attempted to take off his clothes. He lifted up the soft, slightly yellowed pillow and promptly slid the gun underneath it. His body slithered under the musty blankets and he stared at the white ceiling. His eyelids smothered his eyes causing his sense of time to diminish.

#

Clyde carefully walked down the tight, nearly pitch-black hallway while trying not to make too much noise. His left hand slid along the oak walls. The flashlight he held in the other only produced enough light to illuminate a cockroach scurrying along the floor.

His hand hit a doorknob. He turned it. It would not budge. That could only mean that the area on the other side was occupied. He had reached his destination.
He fumbled in his pocket for the key. Once he felt its rough edges he wrapped his fingers around it. He quietly slid it in to the hole and turned it onto its side.

The lock released creating a click. Clyde jumped back in surprise.

He stood still for a short time and regained his stability. Once again he placed his hand onto the knob. It turned gracefully like a majestic figure skater.
He gently pushed open the door. Fortunately, it did not make a sound, unlike the rest of the house. The light of the lamp on the nightstand slowly seeped through the crack of the door. It hurt his eyes. It felt like somebody was twisting a corkscrew into them.

Clyde gently shut the door and locked it. He reached over for the lamp to shut it off. Now he was engulfed by the darkness. All he would have to do is wait and then he could finish carrying out the plan.

#

Raylan woke up from his mental world of zombies and falling into a pit of black, squirming and poisonous arachnids that crawled over his eyes, obstructing his view and causing him to go entirely blind. He opened his eyes and could see nothing as if the spiders were still there. He did not feel them at all, instead he felt cold sweat soaking and holding down his clothes like thousands of weak hands.

He looked around. Did he shut off the light before he fell a sleep? If he did, he could not remember. His heart pumped faster than it had ever gone before. He needed to see. That ghost could be waiting to rip his soul out of his body and he would not know it until it was too late.

He searched for the light. His hand touched it. He groped for the switch and turned it on.

He squinted as everything became bright again. It took a while for his eyes to adjust. Once they did he opened them back up.

He saw the same entity that had roamed the living room earlier on. His heart had begun beating harder. He grasped his pistol. He knew it would be useless to him. It just made him feel safer.

He darted for the door. It was locked, as it had been when he fell asleep. That could only mean that man had to pass through the door, thus proving that he was a ghost.
The diabolical sprit crept toward Raylan.

Raylan could not think like a civilized human being. He did not know what to do, no matter how simple it might be. He needed to do something.

#

Salvador woke up to the sound of gunfire ringing throughout the building. He casually threw on a soft, fuzzy bathrobe. He walked over to the steps. His bare feet made a hard slapping sound every time they hit the floor.

He reached the staircase. Each step groaned in pain as he expelled his weight onto them. Once he got to the top, the hall stretched before him. Although he had no flashlight he could navigate the area as if it were broad daylight. Shortly after he found the correct door. He attempted to open it. It was locked, just as he suspected.

He slammed his elbow into it. Nothing. He repeated, only harder.
Splinters of wood sprayed as the door snapped and swung open like a batter slamming a baseball into the crowd of spectators. Clyde was directly in front of him. A deep red circle rested on his forehead. Red, thin snakes slithered from it.
Hiding in the far corner was Raylan. His gun was clasped between his white knuckled hands. Salvador walked over to him and held his wrist. Not a mussel twitched.

Salvador grinned. Everything had worked out perfectly. Raylan shoot Clyde. He realized had had shoot a living person. The shock caused his already weak heart to give away. Now the company would be his.

Salvador looked at Raylan’s lifeless, terror stricken face. He no longer smiled. All the years of joy they had together were now gone. He would now be on his own.
He went over to the bed and pulled off the white sheets. He placed them over the bodies. He sat down for a moment to look around. His two best friends now were two cold, fleshy mannequins. Then he thought. He decided it was not as bad as it could have been since he would become the richest man in the state. It still would not be the same without them. A part of him lived inside of them, now it was as lifeless as they were.

He plucked out his cell phone to inform the police of his horrible discovery. He flipped it open.

Several miles away an explosion went off.
He ran over to the window. He could see an orange orb glowing off in the distance. He wondered what had happened. A morbid fascination came over him.

He darted down the hall, down the steps and back into his room. He threw off his robe and yanked on some more suitable apparel.

What had occurred was one thing that he needed to know.

He pulled the car keys off of the rack. His feet glided as he went to his vehicle. Once he got inside it he thrust the keys into the ignition and turned it as quickly and as gracefully as a magician pulling a coin from one’s ear.

He was now racing down the road. His car followed the movements of his hand on the steering wheel. The flaming beacon that summoned him slowly appeared to get larger.

#

Salvador had now reached his destination. He observed the scene with sick delight. He was not the only one. The town came towards the light like mindless moths.
Water spewed from water hose like vomiting snakes. Sirens blared notifying the citizens of this terrible event. The location was painted in an orange flickering glow. Firemen flew from one area to an another, the police made sure that everyone else was at a safe distance, the rest simply watched.

Salvador then noticed a sign decaying as the flames devoured the building. It read: SPAULDING AND CO. Spaulding was Raylan’s last name.

His eyes bulged out of his sockets. His dreams dissolved in front of him like sugar in a glass of water. First, his buddies that were rotting away in his house and now the company that was to be his own. He had sacrificed everything he had for nothing. He tumbled to the concrete that was slowly heating up like an electric stove. The sent of his vanishing hopes and pride lingered in the air. How could he be so selfish? There was nothing left for him. He had ruined his only chance to be happy for something he felt was more important or could be. But now, everything was gone.

He got onto his feet and ran into the flames.

© Copyright 2007 JMB (pickacard at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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