The Rent
The Rent
The spire rose high into the cloudless sky. This was a dagger puncturing the vault of the heavens and sometimes on stormy nights you could see the life blood of the universe bleed in, trickling both down and up the spire.
This was the gateway but as of no-one knew – no-one saw the rent that sucked the joy from the world.
But soon they would.
Jamie had been watching the spire for years, he seemed to be the only one who sensed that there was something wrong. As a toddler he would scream and scream as they walked past it, now as an adult he stood and stared at it, day in day out reguardless of the weather.
Today was one of those days when it was bleeding, dark congealed pain seemed to wash over the honey coloured stone, it would have been more dramatic if it had been the bone grey of other churches in the area. And he was the crazy man who stood in the grave yard cackling to himself.
No one listened, and today the congealed clots of existence seemed to be rearing up, becoming creatures struggling in the half light. Jamie liked them even less and took a step back. He did not want to be here watching this, it felt somehow dangerous now. He fled to his hovel, a basement flat with slime mould on the wall, pitted and brown and shiny. You never wanted to touch it.
One wall was tins and another water. He checked his torches and candles and put a chair to the door. Something was coming. As if he were still a small boy he hide under the blanket, and whispered on repeat “Deamontide”. Outside the sky turned a smoked red and for once Jamie was not the only one who could see the rent. Screams filtered down to him in his nest and he shivered.
Posted: Saturday, August 24th, 2019 @ 9:22 am
Categories: Flash Fiction, Micro Fiction.
Subscribe to the comments feed if you like.
You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.