MARY AND THE CURSED CROSS
“Hail Mary, full of grace, the lord is with thee; blessed art
thou amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary,
Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen!”
I stood up, dragged out the little box from under my bed, and jacked it
open. The revolver lay still in there, reflecting the little moonlight that
penetrated into the room. I checked the little black pouch containing the
bullets, and they were intact – Perfect! I dislodged the chamber and seeded the
bullets into it, spinning it shut, just as soon as I was done.
This ends now!
I exited the room to the realization that everywhere was pitch-black. I
hadn’t noticed how dark it was, as I had scrambled my way up earlier, locking
my room shut as soon as I jumped up the stairs. I began descending the stairs,
one slow step after the other. I had a torch in one hand, and a revolver in
another. My heart beat so fast, it scared me. I could literally feel blood flow
through my veins.
“Baam!” something fell from the ceiling.
The loud thud made me miss a step, and I came sliding down the stairs on
my back. I winced in pain as a broken piece of wood sliced through the left
side of my lower back. I was now bleeding on my right leg, my right temple and
my back, but that was the least of my worries. I scrambled for my torch, and
immediately pointed it towards the direction of what fell from the ceiling.
“Sarah! Oh my God!” I shrieked at the sight of what was staring at me.
Her eyes looked blank and reflective. Half of her neck was viciously ripped off;
her left hand was missing. Even though she was covered in a pool of blood, I could
see that she was eviscerated. I couldn’t tell if it was just me, or her intestines
looked like they were still moving.
Something moved quickly across the ceiling.
“MARY?!!” I yelled as I tried to follow the movement with the light
from my torch. I couldn’t catch up. I knew whatever that was, crawling on the
ceiling, wasn’t Mary. Abigail had found the golden, ancient looking cross this
morning on the farm. It looked like it had been there for decades. She had
suddenly developed an abnormal affection towards it all morning.
By mid-day, she had begun behaving strangely, cuddling the cross and
talking to it. By evening, Sarah and Mary tried separating their mum from her
discovery, only to realize how pale she looked, and her eyeballs were totally
black. Something had taken over Abigail. She attacked our daughters, and it took
their courage, and stab of wood to the head for her to let go of Mary’s throat.
One way or the other, Mary had touched the cross, and was cursed too.
She had hit me on the head with a goblet as I tried to wrestle Sarah from her
grasp, and scratched my right leg, as I bolted for the revolver in my room. I’ll
be calling the Priest tomorrow morning, but I’ve got to survive this night
first. Whatever it ta…
…Mary jumped out of nowhere!
She grabbed my throat, shouting wildly as she continuously tried to
gnaw at my face. Her face was covered with blood, her jaw was missing,
and her tongue was so long, it flapped against the back of my neck. Both my torch
and revolver had fallen. Air stuck in my throat, and my lungs began to expand.
I fought her off, with every ounce of strength in me.
She was inhumanely strong.
I was feeling faint already. In one instant, as I was backing up
against the wall, I stepped on Sarah’s blood, slipped, and fell. She almost
took a big bite of my face, but I quickly turned away. There it was! Reflecting
sympathetically, the last ray of hope I had of making it out of my house alive.
I grabbed the revolver, and just as I did, Mary bit my left ear off. I
screamed.
I pointed the muzzle in between the black holes that used to be her
eyes.
“Forgive me Mary!” I whispered as I pulled back the hammer, and squeezed the trigger.
Mature Minds Talk.
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