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| Morticia Pt.4 |
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Peter stepped into the foray of the front lobby and looked around the mausoleum. Marble walls everywhere, and the vaults were lined up on the wall 7 high, and what appeared to be hundreds of thousands in the row. Peter shouted an echoing “Hello!” with no return for him. Walking down the first corridor, Peter began to look for the junction box that eluded him all day.
Looking high and low, he saw no sign of the junction until he rounded the next turn, and above one of the stained glass windows was a box bearing the number 222. Peter then walked on farther and farther down the corridor looking aimlessly at the walls and ceiling for box 223. As Peter approached one of the main hallways, static emitted loudly from his portable CB radio. Peter looked at the radio and shook it in case one diode happened to be out of whack. Peter had been searching over and over for the missing 223, finally when he was about give it up, he saw above his head was a vault numbered 223.
“That cant be damn it.”Peter looked up at the vault. He reached into his utility belt and grabbed the radio.”Roy, are you there? Roy?” Peter got back static, and what sounded like a sinister laugh inside of the static. The radio was useless inside a place filled with so much concrete. He put the radio back and tugged out a crowbar. Slipping the thin end under the square of the vault, he jerked and twisted on the bar until the vault was pried open a tiny bit. Once he got under it, it began to give way and come off with ease, until it was dropped onto the marble floor. Peter stood still staring at the open vault on the wall one level above him that was marked 223. A light fog came pouring out of the vault, but there was nothing else inside.
“What the…” Peter turned quickly to look at the sound that he heard. It was the sound of concrete sliding against concrete. Peter could not make out where the sound was coming from because of the acoustics in the mausoleum. He looked left and right, but there was no one. The scratching got louder and louder, closer and closer. He stepped back and pressed against the opposite wall behind him. The sound stopped. Looking left and right from his spot, he saw nothing, heard no shoes on the marble, but where was it coming from? Paralyzed with fear, Peter froze in his tracks waiting for the something to take the next turn and show itself. Tense and awaiting the ghoul that was making the noise he felt his back tense and his hands grip strong. As the pebbles hit him in the shoulder, he realized his gravest mistake: he did not think to look up. With the last movement of his ignorant life, Peter looked up in time to see the cement casket vault on the very top of the wall, which was protruded and sticking out, drop down from the wall, and straight down on his head. The tremendous weight of the casket vault, instantly crushed him to the floor, turning him from six feet tall, to a crumpled, bleeding mass. The lid of the vault was open as it lay on top of Peter. There was no casket, it was empty.
*****
Roy had been trying to reach Peter for hours, but was unable to get a response. After he came down from the line, he had tried again. There was no answer again, but this time, Roy decided to look for him on the property of the Kiltner Estate. As Roy hopped into the cab of his truck, he started the engine and round the corner towards Monson St. As he entered the gates, Roy was looking for signs of the truck with its flashing lights, but there was none. Roy drove on for a little ways, until he got up near the house. There, he saw the flashing lights of the utility truck. Roy pulled up alongside of the truck to see if Peter was in there. When he did not see his line mate, he threw the truck into park and got out.
“Peter, where the hell are you?” No answer came. Roy yelled again and again with the same result. He began to walk in between the house and the mausoleum, looking for Peter. When he got to the front door of the mausoleum, something in his mind told him that he was in there, and he was not going to be easy to find. Roy shouted for Peter in the large marble structure. His voice echoing off the walls sounded like another person calling for him too. Roy walked and walked, and even tried the radio, which was full of static.
“Peter, come in, over. Are you there? Hello, Peter!” Not a sound. The line was dead now. There wasn’t even static on it. Roy looked at the radio thinking that the battery may have went out. He noticed that there was something like a fog that starting to puff out of the radio a little bit at a time. The fog seemed to circle the radio and then float UP the cable to the handset.
“What is this?” he asked. As the smoky fog curled around his hands and arm, it formed more into a Venus-flytrap like head, with mouth agape, and bit him strongly on the forearm. Roy screamed and danced around trying to get the ghost from the radio off of his arm. The radio now went wild with static, stations coming in from all over, and people talking all at once. Roy ran away from the radio that he smashed up against the wall. The fog did not seem to chase him as he was looking for his way back to the front door. He then rounded the corner at high speed, and stopped instantly as he saw a concrete burial vault on the floor with worker boots sticking from underneath it.
“Oh my God, Peter!!” Roy yelled in the moment. “You bastards!!!” he screamed. While Roy’s back was turned to exclaim to the spirits that they had no father, the vault began to move. What was left of Peter on the floor began to rise up from the floor, broken and disjointed. At the same time, the vaults on the wall began to blow open one by one, a tentacle from each whipped out of them and went straight for Roy, wrapping around his arms, legs, and torso. As they tightened, he was lifted off of the floor about 6 or 7 feet. A thunderous growl could be heard from inside of the vault. Its eyes could be seen in the dark inside of the vault, they glowed as blue as a propane flame. As Roy was turned around he saw that what used to be Peter was standing up taller than he was in life, and covered head to toe in hardening blood. Its head was twisted and contorted into a shape that was no longer human. As Roy screamed for his life, its head shuttered and then split in half down the middle, and a large spear-like tentacle shot out of it and punctured Roy’s chest cavity, and then opened like an umbrella while it was embedded deep inside. As that happened, the tentacles that were holding him retracted, tearing his torso and body in five different directions, which were brought inside of the vaults, to the beast awaiting within them.
* * *
While the entity was digesting its latest meal, a bright, brilliant, light began to form in the basement where the fire was a few months before. It got so bright that one would not be able to see if they were to look at it. Four or five little balls of light floated out of the light and emerged towards the trucks left by Roy and Peter. The engulfed the entire trucks, and then started them automatically. The vehicles were then driven far behind the house to the middle of the woods, where both trucks exploded.
(end of Chapter 4)
-Killer Klown
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August 24, 2009, 5:01 am |
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