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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2091186-Hear-The-Air-Wave
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by Fen Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 13+ · Prose · Dark · #2091186
Just something I cobbled together.
The lab was dimly lit, with musty tomes and yellowed scrolls spread haphazardly across several surfaces. In the centre, poring over an ancient manuscript bound with tanned leather on a worktable, with only a dirty yellow lamp for illumination, sat a hunched figure in a white floor length medical coat. He was murmuring to himself. "It's got to be in here. It just has to. Fifteen years I've dedicated myself to finding the ritual. I've come too far with so much blood on my hands to stop now."

Glancing over at the ramshackle doll made entirely out of woven reeds with two empty hollows for eye sockets, the scientist reaches out and scoops it up gently in the palm of his hand. "Soon, brother. Soon. You won't have to endure eternal slumber much longer. I promise you that." Setting it down, he turns the page and scours the ancient and archaic looking text. "Is...hold on..." Leaning closer, he adjusts his large, square-rimmed glasses.

A broad smile spreads across his face. "It is. I've found it! Ha ha!" Plucking a box from his pocket, he slowly opens it to gaze upon two perfectly oval spheres made of a strange substance that seemed to glow with a dark, eerie purple light. Removing them carefully from the silk lining, he gingerly manoeuvres them over to the miniature mannequin and slips them effortlessly into the openings. Standing up, he goes over to a fridge and opens it, retrieving a sample container from inside.

Bringing it back to the workspace, he unscrews the lid and uses a small drip applicator to obtain the blood smear. Holding it above the doll, he moves the book into position and starts uttering the incantation. An unnatural wind starts to make the flames dance and flicker, casting grotesque shadows and images onto the four walls. Unperturbed, he continues, his voice gaining strength with each phrase. As he reaches the climax, the wind becomes a hazy white fog and the candles are instantly snuffed out.

With only the lamp and to see by, he lets a single drop of blood strike the reed figure. With bated breath, he waits. Minutes seem to drag by. Eventually though, his face falls. "Another hoax." His shoulders slump dejectedly. "And I was so sure of it this time." Sliding off the stool, he walks over to what looks like an oversized microwave. Pushing a button, the bulky metal door swings open. As he despondently places the figurine inside, a chill runs down his back, like someone or something is standing behind him.

Withdrawing his hand, he slowly turns to see an individual standing the same height as him, staring hard with its opaque, milky white eyes. Taking it all in, the scientist recognizes the features, the stance, everything about it screamed familiarity. "A...Alfarinn?" The words, suddenly constricted in his throat. In the blink of an eye, the figure was on him, hoisting him off the ground, one hand clamped about his neck with a vise like grip.

"A...Alf...it...it's me...your brother...don't....don't you recognize me...?" The scientist has to fight to make every word audible. To his dismay, he sees no sign of this horror comprehending who he is. Desperate now, he fumbles in his pocket and pulls out a perfectly smooth and sculpted diamond that seems to wink in the hazy light. Hand shaking from the exertion of staying conscious, he extends it towards the creature.

Its gaze falls on the gem, and, just as suddenly, the scientist is dropped unceremoniously onto the floor as the abomination that looks like his older brother cradles the jewel in both hands.

There's a flicker of movement as its head turns slightly to survey the coughing and spluttering scientist. A frown creases its features, but soon the corners of its mouth curve into a cruel smile. From those soulless eyes, tendrils of white fog start creeping out, slowly blanketing the entire room. Right before the scientists eyes, the individual slowly fades away into the mist, and soon, even the unnatural cloud formation is gone too. He gingerly rubs his throat, cognizant of the bruises now forming.
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