by Steve Lang
“Where is he now?” Sean asked.
“Who knows, I kicked him out and told him to come back when we’re not home to get his stuff.”
The two had a long conversation about Sean’s father and how badly he had treated his mother during their marriage. Sean never had a clue. Outside of some arguments over money he had never heard the two of them fight, but now he was mad and sad. Sean now harbored resentment that ate at him like a rabid animal. He was about to walk off the path of light and onto the long dark road.
A few nights later as Sean was drifting off to sleep, he heard the sound of a bush rustling outside his window. His mother was at work, so he was alone. Sean got out of bed and looked out the window to see someone in a black jacket messing with one of the windows of his mother’s bedroom. His mother had taken the gun in her car and now he was terrified, because there were no other weapons in the house. His mind scrambled, thinking of what to do next. He ran to his closet and grabbed his aluminum baseball bat, and then picked up the phone to dial 911.
“Please send an officer, there’s someone trying to break into my house, and my mom’s at work.”
The dispatcher told him to remain in his bedroom with the door locked until help could arrive. Sean knew from what he had seen on the news that a response to a 911 call might take up to twenty minutes, and he was afraid he didn’t have the time. He raced to the kitchen and retrieved a serrated steak knife from the drawer. It was more than big enough to do the job, but in his panicked mind it looked like a toddler version of a knife in his hand.
Nervously, he walked down the hallway, listening to the prowler outside trying to get in his mother’s bedroom window. He ran in and hid in the corner beside the window as it slid open. Without another thought he swung down on top of the intruder’s head as it popped through, and then he used the knife to stab down so many times he lost count. The prowler let out a grunt and then dropped to the floor still, and silent. Sean backed up, keeping his eyes on the target, and flipped on the bedroom light with a shaking hand. The person lying on the floor was trying to turn over, so Sean raised the bat over his head and realized that it was his father. Sirens wailed in the distance as Bill turned over on his back, looking compassionately at his son.
“You’re mother changed the locks.” He breathed. Bill died on the bedroom floor.
Sean never forgave himself for what he had done, and although he was cleared of charges for the incident, the torture of killing his own father haunted him daily. Sean’s mother continued to work the late shift so he spent most of his time alone, with no friends to speak of, and at night the grey man would appear more frequently. The strange man would sometimes appear in the mirror while Sean brushed his hair or in windows of stores as he passed by on the street. Sean would have conversations in his dreams about time and space: alternate dimensions of chaos where the laws of nature on Sean’s planet did not apply. The man eventually told him his name was Azazel, and he was an angel of the Lord sometime in the distant past, but that was as much as he would explain.
One night as Sean dreamed he met Azazel in a bar outside of what appeared to be Paris. Azazel, garbed in a red robe, told him of blood sacrifices. He explained a dark pact that some people from a distant red planet had made with his master. These people were given access to great technology and interdimensional powers in exchange for the blood sacrifice of undesirables. Azazel also gave Sean a special gift. When he awoke next he would be able to read people’s minds, understand high mathematics, and read symbols on the walls of the great megaliths of Egypt. He would have this ability for nine days, but if he wanted to continue to have these powers after the time expired, then Sean would have to provide Azazel with a sacrifice.
True to his word, the former angel had given Sean the power he proposed, and the young man could understand the most complicated subjects, as well as their relation to the cosmos. Reality was beginning to take on a fuzzy haze, and to his mind it seemed that Azazel was becoming more real and his waking world reality was like those heat waves off the dessert. Sean was more mirage than man.
Several nights later, as he dreamed, the two met again in a small bar near his house.
“Ready to begin?” Azazel asked.
“I’ll do it. I know where a crowd of bums hangs out in town, and maybe I can lure one of them away with cheeseburgers,” he said thoughtfully. “With some sleeping pills ground up in a soda it should be quick,” answered Sean.
“You’ll have to get them into the woods. There’s a cave where the ritual must be performed. So, make sure they don’t completely pass out until you’re close, or you’ll have some heavy lifting to do.” The old angel explained.
In Sean’s mind he saw the location of the cave and instantly knew how to get there from the old man’s telepathic projection. It was about ten miles outside of town in a very secluded and ancient forest. Kids jokingly referred to it as the haunted forest, because sometimes strange lights could be seen shining deep within the woods at night. It was a good place to avoid, and Sean was going to be bringing some unlucky soul in there to meet his demise.
When Sean woke up he remembered the conversation and knew what he had to do. There was a group of homeless in town that would sign on for day labor projects, or anything that would pay them enough for their next bag of fries, or bottle of booze. He took a bottle of his mother’s Xanax from the medicine cabinet and crushed them all into a fine powder. Then he mixed it in with some peanut butter and jelly. That sandwich was strong enough to knock out a horse, and all he had to do was remember not to eat the peanut butter, or this would be one of the biggest failures in the history of murder plots. He made himself a turkey sandwich, went to the garage for a bundle of rope, and got in the car. He took one last long deep breath before he started the engine. There was still time to turn back, but why bother?
He drove to the bridge, where he knew they would be, and stopped beside a crowd of men dressed in rags standing around an oil drum filled with burning refuse.
“Any of you guys know how to paint a house? I’ll pay you seventy-five dollars for a day’s work. I just need some help with one room.” Sean shouted.
They all looked suspiciously at him and for a moment Sean considered that these men might try to harm him, especially if they thought he had money. The revolver was just under his seat and he had loaded hollow points, in the case of trouble. Unknown to him, the strange looks on their faces were not out of suspicion of him, but a silent competition to see who would bite at the gig.
“I’ll do it!” Said one of them.
He was a tall man who wore painter’s pants and a ripped t-shirt with a surfboard on it, and a beard so long and scruffy that Sean was sure it crawled with bugs. Sean thought he would be a good person to kill, nobody would miss that asshole. Sean was immediately repulsed by this man, but held back his revulsion while he opened the passenger door. He smiled as the ragged man got in. The other men looked disappointed and turned back to their conversation.
“Good day sir, welcome aboard!” Sean smiled.
The man shambled over and got in. The smell from his body odor and clothing was overpowering causing Sean’s gag reflex to kick in, but he stifled it.
“Mister, thanks a lot, you’re a life saver.” Sean said.
“You mentioned Seventy-five dollars?” The man held out his hand.
“After we get the job done. I’m not far from here, you hungry? I’ve got an extra sandwich and I was just about to eat lunch.”
“Sure, I’m starving man. You don’t get many free meals on the side of town I live on. What do you got?” The man replied.
“What’s your name?” Sean said, handing him the peanut butter.
“Donald, and thanks for the food.”
“You can’t work on an empty stomach, Donald” Sean smiled.
He turned on some music and the two drove in silence for twenty minutes. Donald was getting curious about how close Sean’s house was when he began to doze off. In his nervousness, Sea
n forgot about what Azazel had told him regarding the victim being conscious at least most of the way to the cave.
“Almost there, my friend.” Sean said.
“OK, good. You mind if I shut my eyes for a minute. I’m not on the clock yet, am I?”
“Not until we get to my house.” Sean answered.
With that, Donald fell fast asleep and the smile quickly faded from Sean’s face. Time to go.
Sean knew where to park, but as he turned off the engine he remembered the victim was to remain conscious until they got to the cave. He began to dread the mile or so walk back into some of the darkest and thickest woods he had ever seen. His pulse quickened, and he wiped sweat from his upper lip. Sean took the rope with him and shoulder-carried the unconscious man as far as he could. Then with the rope he brought he looped it under the man’s armpits, and began to drag him along the rough, root and brush covered ground. It took him some time to drag Donald all the way back and by the time he reached the cave entrance he was sweat covered and exhausted. Sean’s Xanax and peanut butter sandwich had knocked Donald out so soundly that Sean began to wonder if the man had a pulse. When next he looked up they were at the cave entrance. The yawning mouth of a prehistoric monster.
Sean looked up and saw a symbol carved out of rock above the entrance. Upon closer inspection he saw that it was the planet Saturn, and on top of the planet was the imprint of a hexagon. He dragged the unconscious Donald inside and as he did rocks on the walls began to illuminate, lighting the way. They were cool to the touch and had a supernatural glow. In a room at the back of this cave the rocks lit up all around him from ceiling to floor, but the brightness did not hurt his eyes. He saw an altar that had been carved from red granite, and hoisted Donald on top of it. There was a blade with strange runes marked on the handle lying there as well, and as if he had done this a thousand times he began to perform the ceremony Azazel had shown him how to execute. Sean spoke the ceremonial words, and the cave walls began to hum and vibrate like an electric transformer, the rocks glowed red and a vortex of dark energy swirled on the wall before him.
Sean fell into a hypnotic trance as he watched the wall disappear into a black hole as something began to move toward him from within. Sean could also see Saturn’s rings in the background as the planet floated in a void. His ceremonial words completed, he rammed the blade down into Donald’s heart. A second later Azazel was standing on the other side of the altar, grinning from ear to ear, but as Sean came out of his trance he realized what he had done and where he was and felt fear.
“Fear is good. It makes it easier to perform my work, Sean. Your fear opens so many holes in your defense against us.” Azazel told him.
“What do you mean? When do I get my powers back? We had a deal, right?” Sean was beginning to feel shame mixed with dread in the presence of this demon.
The portal on the wall began to close, becoming fainter.
“I’ve made some amendments to the deal.” Azazel said.
With that Azazel began to transform his features to look just like Sean, and then he took Sean by the hand he had used to sacrifice Donald and threw him into the fading vortex. Sean screamed as he left his feet and flew toward oblivion.
“It’s been so long since I’ve been back. Goodbye, Sean. Sweet dreams.”
Azazel closed the portal as Sean floated toward Saturn screaming uncontrollably, and then he turned, walked out of the cave and with a wave of his hand the rock wall sealed. The cave was gone, and as he walked on in Sean’s form, Azazel reveled at how easily humans were controlled. This was going to be the most fun he had in ages.
weird
Weird wird adj.
1. Suggesting the supernatural; unearthly
2. Strange; peculiar
Shaun had received a call from Madeline two days ago telling him about the tunnel she had stumbled upon during her research expedition in South Africa. She requested that he join her, and that it was urgent, but hadn’t mentioned why. The two had been dating for over a year, and although he had not proposed marriage he had planned on doing it soon and also knew that if Madeline called for his help he’d be there for her. She was brief on the phone, but there were two things that stood out in his mind about their conversation. She was scared, and she needed him to come now.
Madeline had gone alone to the Dark Continent to follow up on research regarding ancient structures on the South African plain. A man by the name of Michael Tellinger had been studying the round rock formations, and determined that they were of intelligent design, and not a product of nature, but what they had been used for was still a mystery to him. Shaun remembered the conversation that had taken place just before she left.
“Shaun, there are millions of these round structures on the ground down there, and I don’t think they’re an accident. The way they’re shaped…I think they had something to do with energy production, or mining, and Tellinger’s the only one studying them. I’m going to try to track him down while I’m there as well.”
“Well, Madeline, there’s nothing much to see. I’ve seen pictures of them on the internet, and it all looks like a bunch of hut foundations to me.” Shaun replied.
“You admit that they look like homes or something close, right? The South African government is saying that these were cattle stalls. I can’t believe Cattle stalls would be linked together in such a fashion. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Well, I agree with you there. It doesn’t, I mean, they don’t look like anything anymore. Are there at least writings on the rocks? Something to tell you who built them, or why?” Shaun asked.
“That’s what I have to find out.”
Tellinger had been studying the rock circles on the ground, and taking aerial photographs of the megalithic structures for several years—telling anyone who would listen that they were there. And, since Madeline was a student of archaeology this is what she had determined her doctoral thesis would be about.
More than once her advisor had explained such a paper was a foolish waste of time, and that it would never get her anywhere, and there was no place in serious archaeology for fairy tale theories. So, against the sage advice of her academic advisor and professors she booked a flight and left her home in Concord, North Carolina for the adventure of her life. Shaun had not heard from her in a month, so the call was a welcome surprise but the alarm in her voice made him fear for her. What had she found out there?
Shaun got on the first flight leaving for Cape Town, South Africa and in twenty-four hours he would be closer to the root of this mystery. Soaring through the sky, his excitement began to build as he flipped through the photographs of stone circles captured from high above that he had downloaded to his phone. Madeline had sent him the pictures weeks earlier, but he had not given them much thought outside of admiring their unique patterns. To him they still looked like a jumble of rocks that someone had decided to stack together in a mish mash long ago. As the plane touched down Shaun felt every joint in his body creak as he exited into a loud airport filled with people bustling by.
Madeline was there to greet him, the two kissed, hugged, and then she led him to her Land Rover. Shaun threw his bag into the back of her vehicle and jumped in while she started the engine.
“It’s so good to see you! I’ve been working with some locals in my research out here, and they’ve been life savers, but…it’s just good to have you here,” she smiled.
“Yeah, I’ve missed you, too. You had me worried when you called a few days ago. What’s going on?”
“I found something—a tunnel—under one of those stone circles out there, and I was afraid to tell anyone else about it. People go missing all the time while finding…unusual things in my line of work,” said Madeline.
Shaun looked out the passenger window at the small houses lining each side of a dirt road. The long flight had sapped his energy, and very shortly he dozed off with his head against the passenger door. As Madeline’s Rover bumped and jerked down a heavily rutted dirt road Shaun
dreamed. He was naked on a long metal table with tall gray beings surrounding him, prodding, and poking him with various instruments in silence. He asked who they were and received no reply. A bright white light obscured their faces, but he could see their long fingers. The experience was terrifying, realistic, and unlike other dreams he had before, in this one he was experiencing real pain as they performed mysterious procedures on him in what looked like a surgical room. He screamed, and then as fast as it had begun it was over. Shaun’s eyes shot open, and he was back in the Land Rover once again.
“Where’d you go, sleepyhead? You were over there twitching and moaning in your sleep. I thought I was going to have to pull over.”
“Bad dream, I guess. Where are we?” Shaun asked.
“We’re almost there. You can’t see the circles from the ground, but I entered the location of my find into the GPS.”
“OK, you gotta’ let me in on it at least a little here. What’s with all the mystery, Madeline?”
“I was out in the fields trying to understand why those stone circles could have been put here, when I suddenly fell through one of them and found a tunnel opening. I know it might sound crazy, but there was a rock there with some strange markings and when I touched it my hand literally passed right through. I was so shocked that I lost my balance and fell forward. I passed right through the rocks, which were like some kind of three-dimensional hologram.”
“Well, that’s interesting. Did you go further into the tunnel? I mean, did you find anything in there?” Shaun asked.
“I walked back until I hit a dead end at the rock wall, but now I think it was a door. There were some crystals embedded in the rock and when I hit the cones together they began to glow. I was down there by myself, and completely freaked out to begin with so I got the hell out of there and called you. I’ve not been back down there since.”
“What cones?”
