12-01-2020, 12:15 PM
The old house creaked with every step no matter which room you were in. The draft was a constant
source of cold and spoke of the many repairs that went forgotten. The fireplace crackled with a comforting
warmth that filled him with feelings of safety. Gazing into those orange flickering flames he found peace
that would otherwise not belong to him, not in this life.
After several minutes staring into those burning embers things began to happen. He wasn't sure why aside
from madness or maybe punishment from God, but slowly the build of this unsettling scene set upon him
and they returned once again; like they had every night for the last two weeks.
Pouring from that beautiful fire there came dozens of snakes, spiders and scorpions. Heaving in numbers
and multiplying by the second. They would crawl from that little sparkling Hell and scatter across the
room as he pulled his legs up onto the chair in attempt to keep them free of the inevitable infestation.
"Nooo!! You cannot have me!!" he shrieked while sweat dripped from his scowling face.
The flow of vermin continued and he kept screaming until his voice got scratchy. Fear was pumping his
heart at what had to be 180 beats per minute. His shirt now sticking to him from the layer of sweat
flowing from his pores. His gun lay on the table but it was across the room. If he could leap in one
big enough bound, he'd have a fighting chance. How many bites or stings would he sustain in such
a short amount of time? Would it be worth the risk of exposure? Three, two, one...
He wasn't sure how, but he did it! He now held that cold, black steel in his right hand and those
disgusting, vile creatures would pay! Lunging back towards that nice, big comfortable chair, he caught
his foot on the end of a small settee and fell short of the mark. Knees on the floor, face on the chair's
seat, he was now at their mercy. He pulled the hammer back, ready to blast holes in everything moving
when the calm hit. That high-pitch buzzing that had filled his ears only moments before was now
gone. And it took those awful abominations with it. He sat there on that hard wooden floor out of breath
and holding that gun to his chest.
It was time to get back to work. Detective Douglas Peters stood up, wiped his drenched face and left the
safe haven of his living room. There were bad guys to catch.
source of cold and spoke of the many repairs that went forgotten. The fireplace crackled with a comforting
warmth that filled him with feelings of safety. Gazing into those orange flickering flames he found peace
that would otherwise not belong to him, not in this life.
After several minutes staring into those burning embers things began to happen. He wasn't sure why aside
from madness or maybe punishment from God, but slowly the build of this unsettling scene set upon him
and they returned once again; like they had every night for the last two weeks.
Pouring from that beautiful fire there came dozens of snakes, spiders and scorpions. Heaving in numbers
and multiplying by the second. They would crawl from that little sparkling Hell and scatter across the
room as he pulled his legs up onto the chair in attempt to keep them free of the inevitable infestation.
"Nooo!! You cannot have me!!" he shrieked while sweat dripped from his scowling face.
The flow of vermin continued and he kept screaming until his voice got scratchy. Fear was pumping his
heart at what had to be 180 beats per minute. His shirt now sticking to him from the layer of sweat
flowing from his pores. His gun lay on the table but it was across the room. If he could leap in one
big enough bound, he'd have a fighting chance. How many bites or stings would he sustain in such
a short amount of time? Would it be worth the risk of exposure? Three, two, one...
He wasn't sure how, but he did it! He now held that cold, black steel in his right hand and those
disgusting, vile creatures would pay! Lunging back towards that nice, big comfortable chair, he caught
his foot on the end of a small settee and fell short of the mark. Knees on the floor, face on the chair's
seat, he was now at their mercy. He pulled the hammer back, ready to blast holes in everything moving
when the calm hit. That high-pitch buzzing that had filled his ears only moments before was now
gone. And it took those awful abominations with it. He sat there on that hard wooden floor out of breath
and holding that gun to his chest.
It was time to get back to work. Detective Douglas Peters stood up, wiped his drenched face and left the
safe haven of his living room. There were bad guys to catch.
