THE HURRICANES OF OBLIVION

THE HURRICANES OF OBLIVION

A Short Story by Charles E.J. Moulton



This rainfall only had one precedent. Noah’s flood. This was the ultimate deluge. As I looked down upon the asphalt, it seemed to me like I looked at the last days of the Earth. The cars parked in the driveways were now boats floating on a debree of leaves and sticks. Soon enough, these cars would be floating off, swept away by angry water.

I feared for my life standing there, to be sure. No question. The bolts of lightning could hit me at any given time. Those times when thunder struck close to the lightning grew more frequent.

         Nothing to do but wait, my transfixed stare turned me into a numb ghoul. No one called, no one entered or exited any building, lines were cut. The city slept, it had disappeared off the map. 

         The demon was here, just as he had promised he would be.

         “I will come for you.”

         I could not see him, but I knew that he arrived in a gust of wind.

         I lit twelve candles, arranged on a various array of candle sticks, my hands shaking, feeling my fear creeping up upon me like a plague. Somewhere in the darkness I saw a face. I froze still, my eyes widening wider than they ever had. The wind spoke the words of that white skull.

Dropping my beer bottle on the floor awoke my petrified spirit. The noise startled me just as much as the skull frightened me. I backed toward the wall, seeing the face smile at me, windening it black eyeholes and opening its mouth in order to utter a soundless Eduard Munch-like scream.

         Suddenly, my despair quadrupled.

         As if on a given moment, the wind shook my left window to the point of no return. I screamed, seeing the vicious rain implode the window and let in the flood. I panicked, taking off my old Led Zeppelin T-shirt and ripping it to shreds. I stuffed it into the hole, but to no avail. The glass cut my skin and soon my fingers sported a very deep flesh wound.

         I looked around the room for something to stuff the wound with and stop the bleeding.

         The bloody hand that now occupied my right limb only gave way to red footsteps along my corridor. As I nursed my hand, I heard more glass break in the living room and ran over to look what was happening there. The frame crashed against the wall and glass flew across the room. Now, the rain entered the room in a way that never had expected. The unstoppable flood that came in turned my small flat into a waterfall.

         At that moment, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

         “Josh,” it said. “Josh, what is the matter?”

         I turned around, looking into Mariah’s face, her pretty sandré locks covering half of her face. The sunlight fell exactly upon her hair in a way that made her look like an angel.

         I turned back, disoriented, and faced the night-time table, the alarm clock, the tea cup, the ashtray, the magazines. I turned back, only to realize that she I now faced a demon, whose face occupied the head of my dead girl.

         “What’s the matter?” she said, her eyes turning black.

         “No,” I whispered, only to realize my voice wasn’t carrying.

         Now, the ghoul was in total control of me.

         I saw the demon opening his mouth, making me part of the storm. After that, I found myself criss-crossing the night, chasing innocent victims down long corridors.

         I ate many souls that night.

         Then, around four o’clock at night, I stared into a flat through a window with many paintings hanging on the wall. The man’s face glued to the window, I knew his terror gave me the power I needed.

         But suddenly, he stood up and disappeared into the kitchen. I waited for him to return and when he did, I broke a window and took the form of his dead girlfriend. Now, we criss-cross the eternal night together, chasing dead leaves across the hurricanes of oblivion.