The Curse of 1977 (Book 2)

Chapter 21

2:58 a.m.

Charles snored away that early morning. The window beside his bed was wide open, allowing in only a faint whisper of cool air into the already stuffy apartment.His rest was a stressful one.

He had to force himself to fall asleep, and hearing Lynnette's crying voice ringing repeatedly back in his dreams didn't help matters at all.Clothed in only a tank top shirt and boxers, the man laid flat on his stomach with his left hand dangling off the bed.

Underneath the bed, however, there was another appendage, a claw that was slowly reaching out from under. It crept its way upwards until it touched Charles' limp hand. The very second it was able to connect, the claw violently snatched the man off the bed and onto the floor where it then proceeded to pull a waking Charles under.

Charles fought and relented, but the evil force had him to where he could not only free himself, but where he couldn't even yell for help, as another claw wrapped itself around the man's mouth.

Once Charles was completely enveloped under the bed, the bed itself wobbled and vibrated for at least two whole minutes before spilling Charles' body back out onto the floor in a bloody mess.

Charles coughed and gagged against the radiator while crying like a baby. Neighbors banged against the wall and hollered for him to "keep quiet," and "shut up," but the man just could not stop sobbing. It was as if he had lost any and all control over himself.

Against the radiator, Charles Mercer could not even pray...he couldn't even remember a God.

***

The time was still early, but not late. Charles, still adorned in his nighttime wear, slowly walked up the staircase until he found himself at a final door.Then, with a lethargic right hand, he twisted the knob and

simply allowed the door to swing open all by itself.The door led to the balcony of the building.

With a pair of rubbery legs Charles ventured on across the floor. His eyes were bleary and non- coherent. He was still soaked in blood; whether it was his own blood or not didn't seem to weigh heavily upon him. As a matter of fact, not much that morning, or after what had taken place seemed to matter too much to him.It was like he was stuck inside a trance that he couldn't or didn't want to wake up from. Isaac, Lynnette and everyone else were nowhere present inside his mind. All his eyes could see in front of him was darkness; everything beyond that was non-existent.

Once his legs bumped against what felt like a barrier, Charles paused and lifted one leg before raising the other. Before long, his body was standing on a ledge. If Charles was aware of such a fact, there was a possibility that he wouldn't possess the will to even care at that point.For endless moments the man stood on the ledge with only a gentle breeze swaying his large body back and forth.

Once more, no faces or memories crossed his mind at that instant. His movements were simple, yet precise. With only a few muscles he moved one leg forward, which in turn caused his entire body to drop off both the ledge and building altogether.

"Good boy." The wicked voice whispered in the night air.Property © NôvelDrama.Org.