Mutilated. Crypt of the Seven Angels. Natalie Yacobson
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and look at her from each window. No, this is just some kind of light game. Some strong optical deception. Nobody looked at her from each window, it was only the reflection, layered one to another. Probably, it was they who created it in front of her a terrible creature. Someone crippled and frightening viciously grinned to her from reflective glass, and Claire dropped a rose.
She was frightened. Although she saw this face before, but was afraid again, as for the first time. Goosebumps fled on the skin. The hand was still sick. Blood smeared on her fingers. Neglecting etiquette, Claire wiped her hand right about jeans pocket. Only turning around, she noticed that on the bench also remained a bloody palm imprint, but it was not her. The fingers seemed stretched and bony, as if strange.
Someone’s cries rang out after the train had already disappeared into the tunnel. Claire moved to where they shouted. There are several people who were late for the train and the duty officer who tried, as he could, to relieve panic. He distilled off the frightened people from the edge of the platform, but Claire still managed to look through his shoulder on the rails. Initially, she did not even really understand what she saw, but the spectacle was extremely unpleasant. Some kind of dirty rags on the rails and brown lodges… no, these were parts of the body. Many scattered parts. Have you ever been alone? Claire did not immediately notice a white-eyed head with a barred skull. A sticky brown messenger flowed along the long luminous hair. Only on the hairstyle, Claire managed to learn that Blonde, whom she saw five minutes ago in the subway with some girl. Obviously, the girl was here on the rails. Claire noted graceful chopped hands, obviously female parts of the body, the same dirty and brown, as some kind of rags with a garbage. Here is the death in the subway tunnel. How these guys were only lit together to fall under the train. Maybe someone pushed them. Or they played at the edge of the platform when the train approached. And maybe they were just so passionate about each other, which did not notice anything. On the moment it seemed to her that dead chops were still moving. That someone mutilated still reflects in the wall and laughs.
Optical illusion! Claire turned away. Probably she looked very bad, because the duty officer asked if he was worth calling her a doctor. Claire shook her head negatively. She knew that she looks too pale and frightened, and somehow devastated.
«Did you know these people, Miss?» asked the duty duty, nodding on the rails.
«Not!» Claire did not even turn around, because she did not want to see all this again. Her sole slightly slid about the tiled floor of the subway, leaving a light red mark. Claire noted the rose petal adherent to the boot sole. It was all that she came on a flower.
The crushed rose was still lying at the bench. And its appearance was even more miserable than those bodies on the subway rails. She do not know why Claire raised it.
She had to be thrown into the garbage tank, but instead, Claire hid her under the jacket and took her. She went home on foot.
Kisses of Demon
Someone at home turned on TV. The cable channel again showed that the most terrible film, which already frightened it once. «Fear dot com» Blue-black shots flashed again before her eyes, as if funnel, sucking consciousness into an incomprehensible abyss. Frames combined something little clear with the image of some horrific torture and suffering. Claire was so afraid to see all this again, and here she saw. The crippled Jenny again crawled on the screen, blood flows from her mouth, and the feeling was like this, that’s, it breaks out of the TV directly to this room.
Claire caught her breath. Who could turn on TV and leave the movie to spin right on this terrible episode? Nobody came to her. Yes, and no one had spare keys. The house belonged only Claire. The girl is accustomed to be alone. She even had no pets. But someone has started the cable into the outlet and turned on the button on the remote control.
The stream of sadistic frames did not end. Perhaps the torture produced by medical instruments were especially frightened. After all, everything is afraid of operations, and surgeons. Or maybe everyone was Satanic in this, in how terribly the sacrifice itself turns into an obsessed evil of a predator.
Claire all this reminded of something. As if something, the same terrible happened to someone from the people close to her. In any case, the feeling was exactly the same. The events of the film although remotely, but touched some kind of looking history in her memory. Something like that was injured her for a long time. Probably, so she forgot everything.
Claire wanted to turn off the film before quickly flashing sadism and horror frames finally reduce her crazy. This will make you panicing anyone. It seemed that mutilated and, nevertheless, an incredibly predatory victim is still about to crash from the screen. But electricity suddenly turned off itself.
Claire with difficulty reached the bed. Claire still felt that the movie begins to drive her crazy. Black and white with an admixture of blue frames continued to spin in consciousness. Red on them was only blood. They spit, sucking consciousness into a bottomless well, full of torment, screams and abstract, but still frightening images. Torture! Blood! Pain! Screaming faces! Appears in convulsions, not the martyr, not that tormentor! Well and horror! Claire did not even understand where she had such a fear of torture. She was never tortured. Well, unless in the doctor’s office, when they took blood on the analysis or did x-ray. All medical procedures seemed to the Clair equally unpleasant and disgusting. And she could not tolerate doctors, as well as all those experiments they put on patients for scientific purposes. The maniac in films was just a doctor, and he spent the survivors of the operation. Anyone who has suffered in the office of blood delivery, such a plot will easily bring to the shock state.
In vain she looked all this. And of course, at all in time the TV turned on by itself to update unpleasant impressions. Probably, everything was explained by some crawling in electricity. Claire decided to be satisfied with this reflection, because it was the easiest, although not quite logical.
She was afraid to sleep now, and still she threw back her head on the pillow. Usually darkness soothes nerves, but not after such films. Terrible phrases from the film also flashed in consciousness. «Do you want to see it?» «Do you want to hurt me?» «Do you want to play with pain?».
And along with them, they suddenly had completely different, uttered by a hoarse male voice, and not seductive female, as in the film.
«Do you want, I will kill your enemies?» «Do you want, I will torment them so that even hell will be a paradise?» «Do you want, I will show you how you can do art on flesh with a knife, better than a brush on canvas?» «How can you not want to hurt others if they caused it to us: me and you?» «The enemies need to be destroyed, Cordelia, and having delivered them to maximum pain. How can I regret them if they did not regret us?»
Her eyelids fluttered in a dream. Again this name. Cordelia! She dreamed of her or she really heard it somewhere. Claire did not remember. She did not have acquaintances with the same name. But sometimes it seemed that someone calls her so.
Cordelia! Cordelia! Cordelia!
The name, as an elixir, healing the wounds on the body, but also a sharp knife, which led to suffering.
«Cordelia!» Claire whispered this name in a dream or just repeated for someone. Someone as if called her from the mirror, again and again repeating it.
She woke up in the middle of the night. Electricity, obviously, have already turned on, because the electronic clock on the table showed time. Ten minutes past three. Claire wanted to close her eyes again and suddenly realized that she was not alone in the bed. Near her was an angel. The most real angel. And he touched her. Touch resembled a love affection. Claire was not even alert, although the event was in general unusual. But for some reason it seemed that it should always be. He had to be here every night.
Angel in her bed. How beautiful he is. She probably was eager to stay for a long time alone only in order to see him. And it does not matter who he was: fruit of fantasy or incubus. In addition, the feeling of another body in bed was so clear. Here the face of sleep was erased, and a dark fairy tale began. His touches were magic. He reminded