wrenching into a twisted scowl. His throat swelled and undulated as if attempting to reject a large object, then produced a loud, screeching cackle—something a hyena might make with its muzzle buried in fresh meat. Jyro flinched back, so did the others. He heard someone say, "What the fuck?"
From behind Larry came a flashing beam of light. It ignited the bathroom in intermittent bursts, throwing the eerie shadow of the praying virgin upon the wall again. Amid the bursts of light, Jyro could see tendrils of hot steam rising up from the polluted matter on the floor, gathering about Larry like praying hands.
The flashlight , Jyro thought quickly, staring at the shadow. It's working again...
Larry's eyes, huge and white and wholly shocking in their wickedness, filled up with blood and spilled two red runners into his gored face. Someone uttered dully, "Jesus Christ…help us…"
The rosary kept swinging, back and forth, to and fro. Jyro felt himself being pulled toward its promise of answers to this whole eerie mystery.
Like a baby bird begging for a worm, Larry opened his mouth wide. From it, red vomit gouted, dousing his chin and grimy shirt. A string of garbled words followed, his voice strident and clogged: "One holds darkness, one holds light, the mother of God's protection against evil is man's only hope. Find the sinless one…"
A gust of cold wind whipped about the room, rippling through their clothes. Waves of horrible gooseflesh marched down Jyro's back. The wind grasped the door to the bathroom and slammed it shut, closing Larry inside. The icy gust moved across the hallway like an invisible tornado, forcing the men to grasp their own bodies for warmth and protection.
A feeling of sickness nailed Jyro's stomach—intense nausea stewing in him, threatening to push out his gorge. A clear sense of panic rose in the room as the men clutched themselves and cowered against the wall, crying out in fear…and then, as suddenly as it came, the cold air dissipated, along with the sickening attack of fear, leaving the men heaving for air in the rancid heat that again dominated the hallway.
But…not before delivering to them a message of hope amid the promise of disaster threatening to kill them all.
Find the sinless one…
Jyro, shaking away the hypnotic state he'd been in, could see the incredulous looks upon the men's faces as they gazed despondently at one another.
Find the sinless one…
They'd all heard it, the voice, like a distant call from a mountaintop echoing across a landscape of hills and valleys. It'd entered into their heads alongside the disturbing visual now haunting them like a sick virus: an apocalypse in the form of an army of tattered men facing a great evil rising up before a wall of raging fires and blackened smoke.
Jyro shuddered, seeing some sort of odd familiarity in the collective of men he just hallucinated. Had any of the others realized what it was?
"What the hell is going on here!" the thin man with the taped glasses cried out, racing toward the landing. He teetered at the edge of the stairs and fell forward along the curve of the first few steps. Lunging, he grasped the banister, keeping himself from falling any farther. Tears sprung from his eyes like rain. From the bedroom, Jyro could hear Rollo shouting a prayer like a minister delivering a sermon before thousands.
"Jyro…" Timothy shouted, the look of confusion on his face immediate as he attempted to express his thoughts. He was scared now, not just with the sudden state of affairs taking place, but also with the eerie power he now seemed to possess. He paused…then uttered, voice trailing off, "How did I know—?"
"Just as I had," Jyro answered without delay, knowing that he'd never told the boy his name. Timothy knew . Just as Jyro had earlier.
Eyes wide with fear, Timothy glanced down at his hands again, flexing them with a look of striking incredulity on his face.
The burns on his hands were gone. Healed.
Timothy
From behind Larry came a flashing beam of light. It ignited the bathroom in intermittent bursts, throwing the eerie shadow of the praying virgin upon the wall again. Amid the bursts of light, Jyro could see tendrils of hot steam rising up from the polluted matter on the floor, gathering about Larry like praying hands.
The flashlight , Jyro thought quickly, staring at the shadow. It's working again...
Larry's eyes, huge and white and wholly shocking in their wickedness, filled up with blood and spilled two red runners into his gored face. Someone uttered dully, "Jesus Christ…help us…"
The rosary kept swinging, back and forth, to and fro. Jyro felt himself being pulled toward its promise of answers to this whole eerie mystery.
Like a baby bird begging for a worm, Larry opened his mouth wide. From it, red vomit gouted, dousing his chin and grimy shirt. A string of garbled words followed, his voice strident and clogged: "One holds darkness, one holds light, the mother of God's protection against evil is man's only hope. Find the sinless one…"
A gust of cold wind whipped about the room, rippling through their clothes. Waves of horrible gooseflesh marched down Jyro's back. The wind grasped the door to the bathroom and slammed it shut, closing Larry inside. The icy gust moved across the hallway like an invisible tornado, forcing the men to grasp their own bodies for warmth and protection.
A feeling of sickness nailed Jyro's stomach—intense nausea stewing in him, threatening to push out his gorge. A clear sense of panic rose in the room as the men clutched themselves and cowered against the wall, crying out in fear…and then, as suddenly as it came, the cold air dissipated, along with the sickening attack of fear, leaving the men heaving for air in the rancid heat that again dominated the hallway.
But…not before delivering to them a message of hope amid the promise of disaster threatening to kill them all.
Find the sinless one…
Jyro, shaking away the hypnotic state he'd been in, could see the incredulous looks upon the men's faces as they gazed despondently at one another.
Find the sinless one…
They'd all heard it, the voice, like a distant call from a mountaintop echoing across a landscape of hills and valleys. It'd entered into their heads alongside the disturbing visual now haunting them like a sick virus: an apocalypse in the form of an army of tattered men facing a great evil rising up before a wall of raging fires and blackened smoke.
Jyro shuddered, seeing some sort of odd familiarity in the collective of men he just hallucinated. Had any of the others realized what it was?
"What the hell is going on here!" the thin man with the taped glasses cried out, racing toward the landing. He teetered at the edge of the stairs and fell forward along the curve of the first few steps. Lunging, he grasped the banister, keeping himself from falling any farther. Tears sprung from his eyes like rain. From the bedroom, Jyro could hear Rollo shouting a prayer like a minister delivering a sermon before thousands.
"Jyro…" Timothy shouted, the look of confusion on his face immediate as he attempted to express his thoughts. He was scared now, not just with the sudden state of affairs taking place, but also with the eerie power he now seemed to possess. He paused…then uttered, voice trailing off, "How did I know—?"
"Just as I had," Jyro answered without delay, knowing that he'd never told the boy his name. Timothy knew . Just as Jyro had earlier.
Eyes wide with fear, Timothy glanced down at his hands again, flexing them with a look of striking incredulity on his face.
The burns on his hands were gone. Healed.
Timothy
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