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Lord Kalcyphir

Meilleur ami d'Ehll Tou

Gilgamesh [Aether]

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The Mass (continued)

Public
The Midnight Afternoon Mass second portion for people who don't want to go to my blog.

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Winston continued reading the papers and looking at the attached photos. He walked to his coupe and tossed the manilla envelope on his seat. He locked the vehicle, adjusted his noir detective hat and unlocked several padlocks. He yanked a rusted metal door open. It scraped and screeched loud, sharp and eerie as it swung.

Winston crossed the threshold of the complex's entrance. Shadows looked at him from the windows. Some waved him in as others appeared to pound on the glass seeking escape. A chill ran down Winston's spine.

The sun set completely on the horizon. Winston passed powerless generators and flood lights sprawled about. He crossed two fully asphalted blocks and completed sidewalks before reaching the completed portion of the apartment complex.

Darkness swallowed the night as he opened the door and walked inside.

A hand tugged at his trench coat. Children giggled in the darkness. "Boys!" A disembodied whisper echoed, deep, slow, and drained of life. Winston ignored stomping, erratic and abrupt footsteps, walking down the hall underneath an elegant staircase.

No flashlight in hand, Winston navigated over piles of debris, cinderblocks, wood, and folded tarp adorning his shades.

Cackling echoed from a dark corner. He ignored it.

The ghostly figure of a woman ran past the doorway ahead.

Winston lit a joint and tipped his detective hat. He inhaled, trying to keep his hands steady. The air froze. Winston trembled, then sighed. His exhale echoed in the open concrete floor plan. The entire first floor was like the entrance to an abandoned luxury hotel. The ornate ceiling was tall -- at least 12 feet. Exposed wires stuck out from half-installed light fixtures. Elevators lined a long hall with empty shops and shopettes.

The lobby had no furniture except for a large, concrete, partly-finished security counter. Buckets rolled on their sides when a breeze kicked up if they were not filled with construction materials or wires. Picnic chairs were left leaning against the wall. Thick dust covered the tops of clusters of three to five picnic chairs in separate areas of the lobby.

"Don't look up," a voice whispered.

Winston kept walking until he reached the far end of the lobby. The supporting walls were intact, and the bones of an industrial kitchen were visible, or so Winston thought. He took out a marker and a hand towel. Winston wiped the ground and etched an equilateral triangle around himself. Each 60-degree angle was inscribed with a letter and a number.

From inside the large triangle, Winston made specific gestures a certain number of times, then walked over the triangle. From outside the triangle, he did the gestures in reverse order. Then, Winston sat against a wall, smoking his joint, and waited as orbs gathered within the triangle's area. He blew smoke into the triangle and captured glimpses of warped faces screaming in fear and agony. He shivered when he saw a face in the smoke grin. Winston thought about another assignment. He cringed and continued blowing smoke into the mass of orbs accumulating in the center of his symbol.

Dozens of orbs gathered over several hours.

They moved at various speeds, oscillations, and trajectories.

BAM! SLAM! WHAM! BAM! SLAM!

All the installed windows and doors slammed open and shut out of sync by a fraction of a second, converging into a maddening cacophony. Winston tried to contain the forming pit in his stomach.

The air was still. Suffocating.

His stomach tensed. He sat up against the wall.

The slamming continued.

The orbs moved faster within the trap, as faces continued shrieking in the smoke.

"BAH!" a shriek wailed from a small grotesque creature at the other end of the long, narrow hall.

Winston's lenses flashed.

Winston froze in horror.

Babby was a little man with a stick figure face. Beady black eyes and curly mustache. He wore an old-timey tuxedo and had a cane.

Babby grinned exposing a row of sharp, glowing teeth.

"My, my, what luck, you should so happen to drop by. Alive and fresh. Lean flesh. Muscles and tendons to the sinew. Rest assured, I will in fact kill you," Babby whispered into the darkness. He hovered toward Winston, chuckling. Babby's small hands rested over his cane as the building seemed to move around Babby, bringing Winston close to him rather than the other way around.

Winston exhaled smoke, revealing several ghosts standing around him. Their faces were distorted and smeared. The clear faces were stuck in half shrieks and snarling, vengeful poses.

Babby cackled as Winston let out a loud, "Nope!"

He jumped to his feet. His joints weak and his stomach upset, he stood in place. Panicking. Cold sweat trickled down his forehead. Babby hovered closer. Then, Babby stopped.

Hovering over the center of the triangle, Babby turned into a stone figurine and dropped to the ground. It was a garden gnome with a big white beard and round spectacles over a bulbous nose.

Winston trembled as he set his shades down between hordes of spirits. He took several steps away from the glasses and held his shaking right hand.

Winston began convulsing as his shades hovered up from the ground.

His eyes turned black as he folded over from the pain in his stomach.

Winston's shadow left his body and wore his sunglasses in the darkness. It turned to Winston and said, "You've done well. A few more and they'll return us to normal, Winston."

Winston cringed.

"Until then, we will continue to see our worlds through each other's eyes. Forced to correct those who draw power from their shadows as you once did," Winston's shadow declared, devoid of emotion. Winston's shadow towered over the creature called Babby. Babby's tunic had a patch that read, "Tighearnach."

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Thanks for reading!

Like my character Lars, Tighearnach, is a Mantlean. Read my first book. It's a collection of short stories.

linktr.ee/mark_a_figueroa
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