Tales of Horror and the Supernatural
I felt myself rise into the air from behind a tree and land in front of Dave Thomas a muscled
sportsman at the school who bullied me because I couldn’t kick a ball. He jumped back and began to
“Jesus! What’s this?”
“Hi Dave. I’ve come for you.” I said in the unworldly voice of the angel as I rose into the air. “Oh,
and I’ve learned to kick,” I continued as I kicked his head clean off his shoulders, which then flew
through the air and hit the doors of the pavilion with a dull thump. His headless body then wavered
and finally fell backwards with blood spurting from the carotid arteries.
Later that night I opened a bottle of whisky and sat on my couch in blood spattered clothes and
decided it was time to stop this before it went too far by handing myself into the police. I drank
half the bottle and fell into a deep slumber.
I strolled across a semi-dark wasteland. Thunder rumbled as lightning streaked the sky. Stinking
gasses hissed from holes in the ground. A figure came toward me, not walking, but levitating over
the sand and dirt.
The figure – not my friend this time, but a man dressed in a dark suit with short, styled dark hair –
stared at the ground until he was next to me when he raised his head.
“I’m not what you expected. Maybe this is what you expected!”
A thrashing beast with huge red eyes and large pointed teeth suddenly appeared in my mind. I
jumped back at first, but quickly regained my composure, and nonchalantly said: “Maybe.”
I felt myself rise into the air and spin round 180 degrees until I was hanging upside down looking
into his eyes.
“You will not hand yourself into the law. You are no good to me sitting in a prison cell!” he said in a
sombre voice. His eyes flickered between blue and red as he spoke.
I wasn’t going to let this bastard win, I thought, so I mustered up the demonic power that he had
given me and managed to send him flying into the distance.
As I watched him come roaring back my mind screamed “Wake up!”
The next day with the talk of a serial killer loose in town I handed myself into the police. I was
eventually tried and convicted of the murders and sentenced to life imprisonment.
I tried to keep a low profile in the prison, but after showering one ni ght I made to leave the shower
room , but my exit was cut off by a big man partially covered in tattoos.
“The boss wants a word with you shitehead,” he said a thick Glaswegian accent.
I turned to see three men gazing at me.
“I heard you cut up some people real bad outside.,” said the smaller of the three who stood in
between the others. “Well in here, I’m the boss,” he continued.
The Dark must have been descending outside, because I could feel the demon power rising in me.
“I’m going to leave you in the capable hands of my associates to show you who’s in charge here
just in case you weren’t listening,” said the middle man leaving the shower room.
As the three thugs approached me I watched them suddenly come to a halt as they saw my eye
colour change to red. Suddenly the door slammed shut and lock.
“Hard men eh?” I rasped.
“Fuck you!” one of them shouted and ran at me.
I flew into the air and grabbed his head, pulling it from his body. I then landed and began drinking
his blood. The other two men ran to the door and began banging and shouting.
I rose up and, wiping the blood from my mouth, began to move through the air toward more
blood! Oh, what had these bullies released?
Copyright Graeme Winton 2010