BLOOD ON MY HANDS

BLOOD ON MY HANDS

Dalton stared at his scarlet hands, wondering what had happened, and when. His mind was blank. Glancing about the surroundings, his heart hammered when spotting the bodies of his two closest friends on the plush rug in front of the fireplace. Barely recognizable, the bodies of Landon and Sherridan were saturated with blood, appearing to have been mutilated by someone or something. Dalton could not help but wonder if he had committed the deed as he looked at his stained hands again, and if so, why?

Tears came to his eyes when focusing on the bodies. Sherridan had been a beautiful woman. She was a twenty-three year old with long blond hair, mesmerizing blue eyes, and an amiable personality. Sherridan had been a cheerleader in high school and college. She had a knockout body that could turn the head of any man, with a smile as beguiling as she was. Dalton could think of no one who disliked her.

He and Landon had been best friends since the age of six. Landon was an athlete with wheat-colored hair, rippling muscles, and a smile that melted many young women’s hearts. Like Sherridan, Dalton knew of no one who did not like the twenty-five years old friend who had been killed. Sure there were those who had been jealous of Landon’s accomplishments, but none Dalton knew of that envied his comrade enough to commit such a heinous crime.

Wracking his brain, Dalton tried to remember the events leading up to his comrades’ demise. After what seemed to be an eternity, he recalled going to another friend's party. Nikhole Vanderway had hosted a party in honor of Landon winning a walk-a-thon for cancer patients at the local hospital. Hazy memories of a lot of drinking and laughter slowly filtered through his mind, along with a game he had not liked. Dalton remembered being part of a séance, he and the other participants supposed to summon up a dead axe murderer named Morgan Humphrey who was reported to have murdered over thirty-five people in the year of 1913 just for the thrill of it. Nikhole told them she had read that the killer had been sentenced to death when captured. That was when strange things began to happen.

Vague recollections of a table rising and crashing to the ground while conjuring up the spirit sprang to mind, as well as an icy wind and darkness coming in Nikhole's apartment during the séance. Dalton remembered hearing a deep voice warn them that they would pay for the childish game, but had chalked it off, assuming he had drunk too much that night. Now, he could not help but wonder what was real or imagined as he headed for the bathroom sink to wash the blood off his hands.

It would not come off! Dalton rinsed his hands repeatedly, but the crimson fluid refused to be removed. The light in the room suddenly flickered, and looking up, instead of his own reflection, a ghostly image of a portly man with fiery-red hair, beard, and mustache was seen in the mirror. The memories that had failed to surface returned with a horrifying vengeance then.

Dalton remembered how he and the others had formed a circle, holding hands and concentrating on Humphrey as Nikhole had told them to. Inwardly, he scoffed at the idea of a spirit being summoned. However, when another icy blast of air permeated the room, Dalton had felt something change within-something sinister. After that, everything transpired so swiftly that it was like a blur. Dalton did not want to recall these horrifying events, yet the memories came back to wreak havoc in his mind.

Where it had come from, he did not know, but an axe was in his hands seconds after he felt the changes. Terrifying screams were heard as Dalton approached Nikhole with the sharp instrument and butchered her first, and then the others one by one. He tried to fight the evil, but to no avail. Landon and Sherridan had fled, making it to the driveway before they were murdered. Dalton recalled putting their dead carcasses into the trunk of his car and heading home afterward. He remembered feelings of both good and evil when he had placed the bodies by the fireplace in his home. A war had been waged within, one that panicked Dalton. I couldn’t have, his mind screamed. I couldn’t have committed murder! However, he knew he had, having brought his two best friends here hoping his mind was deceiving him.

What he did not know was why Humphrey’s spirit had claimed him. All he knew was that Morgan's threat had come to pass. No longer was he Dalton, but Humphrey instead. History was repeating itself, he thought, staring at his bloodstained hands again with a demonic smile.