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 Demonic Affection  (5 ratings)by Michael J. Irwin Page 3 of 7 "Brad man," he said "you are one psychotic kid. You’re getting all fussy over a dream, relax, it’s nothing more then what it seems." Words of encouragement no doubt, but what could I expect from Chet, when had he ever been serious in a time of need. Afterwards I told him I wanted to go home and catch up on some lost sleep. He told me not to forget about his party the next day. I hadn’t forgotten, but I cannot say it was the foremost thing on my mind. We parted there and I returned home to try and sleep. There I lay in my bed, the middle of the afternoon, afraid to go to sleep like some scared little kid, but what was I? A scared big kid, that’s what. No more then an hour latter I drifted off to my second round of the terrible phantasm. Once again I found myself waking up at the counter in Oscars, looking about panic-stricken. I quickly gained my senses and noticed Sam looking at the shelf as she had before. Such and accurate reoccurrence of the previous dream was quite startling and I didn’t quite become fully aware until that ill-gotten sound of the door opening was heard. I turned to Sam just in time to see the arguing begin. Without a second thought in my head I leaped the counter and rushed the man. I quickly put myself between him and Sam, hoping to, if anything, take the bullet for her. He had the gun drawn already but before he fired he move his aim right past me and shot Sam twice in the face. I felt her warm blood splatter across the back of my neck filling me with a feeling of utter horror. I screamed out a cry of protest and spun around to see her sprawled out on the ground in that familiar pool of her own blood. My heart filled with a passionate anger and I spun around to confront the morbid killer, but to my surprise he was gone and there was no trace that he’d even been there except for the blood that was now flowing down around my ankles. I turn back toward her as she faded away. I was left staring at the pool of blood she had been laying in, and finally my eyes filled with the blood red tint and I awoke once more in a cold sweat. * * * For the next two days I stayed in my apartment. I had the same dream both nights with the same outcome, Sam’s death. Though he never visited my in person, Chet called once or twice and we talked for a bit. He seemed to enjoy filling my head with terrible thoughts. At one specific moment I recall him talking about how prophetic dreams are repetitious, giving me gloomy hopes about Sam’s real fate. The third day was Friday and Chet had finally talked me into going to his big party. I told him I didn’t promise to pay much attention to whatever what happening, but he didn’t really seem to care too much. He just made me promise to be there. He said that he was worried I was drinking to much and not getting out enough. I arrived at the part at 9:30, dressed loosely in some jeans and a dirty T-shirt. Not most people’s idea of party-goer ware, but I really wasn’t in a partying mood. Chet met me at the door and lead me up stairs. He kept going on about how much fun it was going to be and I gave him a few solemn acknowledgments. By the time 11 rolled around I had found myself sitting on the couch starting off into space, thinking about the terrible dream, and how badly I wished it would get out of my head. I had never heard of a dream making someone react the way it was to me, so my fears where enhanced all the more. Chet had disappeared long ago and most likely had forgotten about me, so there I sat alone. Every so often someone I knew would pass by and we’d exchange greetings but I did nothing more. It wasn’t until about quarter after 12 when I had begun to doze off on the arm rest of the couch, when suddenly I was awaken by gun shots. I leaped from where I sat and look franticly about, everyone continued on as if nothing had happened so I grabbed the closest person to me and asked if they had heard the shots. The guy I had grabbed gave me a look like I was crazy and then told me he hadn’t heard them. My head began to spin as I looked franticly around the room. There was no one I knew in there, no one to take me home. Copyright © 1999, 2000, 2001 Michael J. Irwin, sffworld.com. All rights reserved. No part of this may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the author. The author has submitted the work in accordance with and in agreement with the following Submission Guidelines. |
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