Page 11 of Dark Rapture
The candle that once burned brightly, slowly begins to dwindle down, until the flame disappears entirely in a wispy puff of smoke. The weight that once pinned me down lifts, the entity retreats, and within seconds I am left alone in the darkness.
In what feels like the blink of an eye, the demon is gone.
My trembling hands brace against the floor as I pull myself to my feet, standing up and swaying towards the door. I open it, slipping out and shutting it closed behind me.
I should be feeling relief, but the entity is gone and all I feel is empty. Empty, alone and unsafe. I don’t have the mental strength to contemplate those feelings right now, so I keep walking until I reach the door to my tiny backyard.
I step outside into the cold night air, the gentle breeze fluttering across my skin, and wander over to the back corner of my garden. I fit myself into the small space next to one of my planters, the only one that contains common kitchen herbs.
Collapsing onto the patio stones beneath me, I pull my knees to my chest and duck my head. I rock back and forth in a desperate attempt to soothe myself, trying to keep my mind clear and my breathing slow and deep. My skin is crawling, as though I can still feel the demon’s hands on my flesh. Echoes of the experience that I desperately wish I could just wash away.
I’m exhausted. I feel it from the top of my head to the soles of my feet, and I’m cold. So cold. At some point between exiting the closet and leaving my apartment, I must have grabbed a jacket. I don’t remember doing it, but I am grateful either way. I’m certain I’d have fallen unconscious from hypothermia if it wasn’t wrapped tightly around me, shielding me from most of the cold.
As my eyes adjust to the morning light, I feel a little more human. I suddenly remember that I’m meeting Arianna for a coffee date this afternoon. I need to try and sleep a few more hours, so I can make it through the day. Normally I would just cancel on her, but she broke up with her boyfriend last week and isn’t handling it very well.
I unfold from my position, wincing at how stiff and sore my body is, and slowly get to my feet. Heading back towards the door, I step inside my apartment and gaze around the homey kitchen. The energy feels calm and light, a significant difference compared to what I felt in my altar room.
I wander over to the living room, unwilling to go back into my bedroom right now, and crawl into my large plush reading chair.
I’ll sleep for just two or three hours, and then head over to the coffee shop.
It’s still mostly dark in here, the early morning light barely illuminating the interior of my home. The atmosphere is comfortable and feels completely normal, unlike earlier. I pull a grey fleece blanket up over my body, and nestle into the oversized recliner.
My eyes slowly close, and I drift away before I can form another coherent thought.
Chapter Four
ThealarmIseton my phone yesterday went off about an hour ago, leaving me very little time to get ready to meet Arianna.
Trying my hardest to keep my mind off of what happened last night, I hop into the shower and allot myself ten minutes to speed through it.
I get dressed in record time, too. Quickly tossing together an outfit consisting of a pair of dark jeans, a maroon t-shirt and a brown cardigan. My hair has grown a little longer than I usually like to keep it, so instead of wasting time taming the soft waves, I braid the long brown strands and let it hang down my back.
Grabbing my bag, I head for the front door and step out into the chilly Autumn air. The moment the sun hits my face, I instantly feel better. Although the temperature outside is unusually cold, the sun is bright and warm and that makes it much more tolerable.
The call of a raven draws my attention to the towering trees that line the concrete city street, and my eyes scan the branches overhead until I find the source of the loud noise.
The big, black bird sits perched on a thick branch. The sunlight catches its feathers as it caws excitedly, a vibrant blue sheen glittering in the light of day. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a raven in the city before, so I watch it with curiosity for a few moments as it shakes out its wings and peers down at me.
As I step away from my front door and head down the street toward the nearby coffee shop I frequent, Java Heart, I take notice of many more large black birds scattered around.
There are several ravens perched in the trees that are scattered periodically down the sidewalk. I’ve definitely never seen one in the city before, what I normally see here are crows.
I can tell these aren’t crows, however. They are too big, and their beaks are larger and curvier than the crows. They are also strangely quiet now. They watch me intently, as though I’m carrying a bucket of bird food in my arms and they haven’t eaten in months.
I love birds. Dad and I used to go bird watching when I was younger. Living with the consequences of trauma as a child, I really felt drawn to birds because they could so easily escape and fly far away. He taught me about all the small ones that take up residence around the city, but he often spoke favorably of the larger birds.
Sometimes we would drive up north to go bird watching with his best friend Chris and their high powered binoculars. I would marvel at the ravens, owls, and falcons with their impressive wing spans, their beautiful colours, and their ability to fly freely— high up in the sky.
Watching these ravens now, there seems to be something off about them. I can’t quite pinpoint exactly what, but as I near the end of my walk I feel it has more to do with how they are acting than how they look. Perhaps they’re sick, or there’s another predatory bird in the area.
Seeing the charming mom and pop coffee shop up ahead, I pick up my pace until my feet land on the small concrete step leading to the dark glass door. Stepping inside, I am greeted by the glorious aromas of coffee, tea and freshly baked pastries.
My eyes drift around the shop until I catch Arianna’s green gaze, a sympathetic smile lifting to my face. She looks as though she hasn’t slept much, but she still offers me a timid smile in return. The warm sunlight is filtering in through the floor-to-ceiling storefront window pane, lighting up her eyes and casting the cozy space in bright light.
I head up to the counter and order a café au lait with a sprinkle of cinnamon sugar before heading over to the circular table Arianna chose, taking the seat that faces her.
“Hey, girl,” she says, after sipping from her steamy mug. “Thanks for coming.”
