Shards of Red Glass (A Ghost Adventures Story)

Home of the Ghosts

Saira's POV

We're on the road the next morning.

After meeting up with Jay, Billy, and Aaron at Zak's Haunted Museum, we all put our equipment and suitcases in two waiting vans; black, as usual. Zak, Billy, Aaron and I climb into one van, with Jay and the rest of the GAC in the other.

We drive. I have no clue where, nor do I wish to know. My nightmares plagued me all last night, and I know it's evident.

Ghosts and demons had tried to drag me from my house. Not the one I shared with Zak. No, this house was worse: the house that burned down fourteen years ago. The house the Devil set to fire because of me.

The demons cackled and hissed. The ghosts murmured and whispered. It sounded like fire and water in my ears. The twenty-seven scars across my back twinge and blaze, just like they were getting put on my skin for the first time.

I didn't scream, nor yell, nor fight or kick or scratch. I simply let them-my enemies, my friends-take me wherever they wished. They dragged me across the ground, ground burnt black by fire and turned red by blood.

Suddenly, I hear singing. Zak's voice calls to me, as if from far away. Aaron's voice joins him. As does Billy's, Jay's, Ashley's. And, most painfully, my family's. Soulful Mica, deep Quentice, soothful Fairen, warm Carson. Tears ran down my face at hearing their voices, though my tears aren't crystal clear or even black like ash.

They're red, like all the blood I have seen spilt.

We reach an open plateau, and the sharp edge looks like a serrated blade. All my loved ones stand before me in a line, like an execution. Then, I feel a cool grip in my hand. Raising my arm, I see a polished silver pistol in my hand, old-fashioned and gleaming like diamonds.

A voice whispers in my ear. The deep, melodic tone of the words soothes me, putting me even deeper in the world of dreams. "Kill them, Saira. Kill them. Like you killed Chase. Like you killed Ashly. Like you killed Justin. Shoot them, and you will be rewarded," the voice says.

Staring down the barrel of the gun, I close my right eye and aim at Ashley's forehead. She stares at me, nods, smiles, then collapses with a red hole in her head from my bullet. Down the line I go, shot after shot after shot.

At the end stands Zak. He stares right into my eyes as I line up the gun with his head. He's the first and only one to speak. He says,"Go on, Saira. Kill me. I have no reason left to live. End my misery. The misery you have put me in." With a choked scream I fire the gun, and Zak falls to the dusty ground. But that isn't enough for me. I walk over to his body, aim, and shoot again.

Bang. Bang. Bang. The shots resound through my body as I fire the remaining bullets into Zak's body. His scarlet blood pools around my bare feet, but I don't care. I turn, and see the owner of the voice behind me.

His form is hazy, indistinct, but clear all at the same time. I make out horns like a goat's spiraling from his forehead. His muscular chest is bare, and colored like dried blood and ash. His legs are covered by a black kilt, made of what looks like human skin. Knives, guns, swords, ropes, whips, axes; every kind of weapon imaginable hangs from the belt around his waist.

I stare into his face, a face as human and handsome as ever. Tan skin, handsome eyebrows, tousled hair, high cheekbones. His eyes change color as I watch, and then he smiles a human smile.

"Saira Collings. My child. How far you have gone and how well you have grown in twenty-eight years," the Devil says, his words honey and wisps of cloud. I glare at him, a strange fire burning in my bones as I look around at the carnage I have created. A fire of kinship, pride, and joy.