However much they thought they knew about the invasion, the War, they were wrong. It had already started. In fact, it was nearing it’s climax. If you listened you could hear it.
Here they come, here they come, here They COME.
THE CHRONICLES OF THE DEAD
The crowd spanned for as far as she could she see. Alice couldn’t wait to get up on the stage - performing was her life. She waddled to the loo quickly before the show.
The scream was heard like a spine chilling ripple throughout the crowd.
Alice claimed she had only screamed to get out of the port-a-loo because the door jammed. However the hand marks on her neck were obviously noticeable to all around her. Alice wouldn’t hear it though. She was fine. Her friends kept saying she wasn’t herself. They were very literally right.
It was 7:30pm, her time to shine. The drums started. The crowd cheered. Alice stepped up, she sang two songs and then the time was right. She turned to her left and proceeded to climd the speakers, the band stopped playing. She was about 40 ft above ground after climbing the stack of speakers (including the stage height). She opened her mouth and pierced the silence with an inhuman song that was trance inducing and beautifully hypnotic. All eyes were on her, their minds and souls belonged to her. They would surrender. She jumped.
As she hit the ground and her neck snapped and blue spirit like being exited the body and faded out of view. With every drop of blood that dripped from Alice, one crowd member fell to the ground - dead. Their minds and souls belonged to her. They would surrender.
*
Isobel knelt on the soft grass. The rustle of the clear plastic against the lilac petunias was the only sound around. She needed to be home by 8 o’clock, so she was in a hurry. She lay the flowers on the heaped ground, against the headstone. It shook. Isobel looked around, the ground was shaking. She put her ear to the ground.
“Here we come.” It goaded. Isobel kept her ear to the ground, listening for the voice. She could her scratching, frantic scratching. Suddenly in front of her face a hand burst out of the ground. Isobel screamed, but no one was around. The hand grabbed her by the neck.
*
The clock said 21:30, Adrian was trying to sleep. But Saran wouldn’t be quiet, she was whimpering from the room next to his, whispering about the thing under her bed. For a teenager she was being so babyish! They were staying in a B&B for three nights, he was getting worried though - his parents hadn’t come back from the cinema. He lay still on the bed, his eyes fixated on the slowly rotating ceiling fan , he understood. He slid off the bed and unlocked the door. Sarah’s door was ajar, he slowly pushed it open. She was looking down . Her bloodshot hand pushed her tangled hair away from her face.
“Brother dearest. Come closer.” She looked up. There were deep red hand marks around her neck. Adrian took a step back, his jaw dropped.
“Sarah… my baby sis!”
Sarah’s eyes rolled up. She lifted of the bed, her tangled hair blowing in the non-existent wind. Suddenly a cry from deep within emitted.
“Adrian!” Sarah screamed “It’s coming. It’s gonna kill everyone!”
Adrian looked at the floating figure.
“Sarah, what’s is coming?”
Her tone changed, it became cold and stoney. “It’s here, in your room. It’s waiting for you.” The floating figure was strangling itself. Trying to silence his sister. “It wants to snap your neck. Just like it did Mum,” The figure grabbed it’s head “and Dad,” It twisted “and me.”
The snap was deafening.