Hell’s Home: Better run like hell

 

2 blogs, 1 story

 
Lightning pierced the sky. The air was becoming heavier and the filtered sunlight that shone down through the tree canopy within the woods was almost gone.

A storm was coming. A big one from the looks of it and Roger wanted gone. Despite these things, Roger’s truck keys remained undaunted-and hidden from view.

He had no idea how long the woman had been standing in front of him before she tapped him on the shoulder, causing him to jump and let out a very unmanly squeal.

Just a little one, she probably didn’t even hear it, but still.

Getting startled and jumping made for a bad impression when the paranormal was supposed to be your thing.

“Hey! Pay attention when you’re being spoken to. I know who and what you are,” the woman snarled up at him without preamble, her features twisting into a mask of contempt, her hands on her hips.

“And you aren’t welcome here.”

Oh now everything was perfect. Because dealing with a harpy, a storm at night in the woods, and looking for his keys was exactly what he needed this very moment.

“Yeah? You’re at the advantage then. Who are you?” Roger asked, resigned.

The woman peered at Roger in exasperated annoyance. “Why don’t you ask Addie?”

She nodded at his surprise.

“Mmhhmm, I thought you’d run into to her. Look, what you think you know? You don’t. Go home, we don’t need you getting in the way.”

She jangled Roger’s errant keys in his face for emphasis and he jumped. Again. What was wrong with him?

He had to clear his throat before he could speak. “Why are you so angry? I’ve done nothing wrong.”

The woman rolled her eyes, plunked the keys in the palm of his hand and turned away from him, letting the wind carry back her answer.

“We don’t want you here. None of us do. Keep your nose out of what doesn’t concern you. You’ll be much safer.”

Rog wondered uneasily if she weren’t right, as he (ran) made his way back to towards the house and the truck.

He managed to kick off his muddy boots before he hit the bed and slept soundly, only to awaken with the feeling of someone standing next to his bed. No one was.

Glancing at the clock, he saw it was only 5:15am but he felt like he was already hours behind schedule.

Hell’s Home was the holder of secrets and full to the brim with the angry, the restless and agitated, and the lost.

He had the strangest feeling that time was running out. For himself and for Addie and Aaron. Trick was, figuring it out before time was up.

 

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12 thoughts on “Hell’s Home: Better run like hell”

    1. Hi Maria 🙂
      I’m happy to know that you didn’t get bored or want to bang your head into the nearest wall. lol

      After viewing what you and Doris have posted, on your blog, I consider that to be a great compliment. Thank you 🙂

    2. Great to know I was the cause of a smile Maria.
      Yes, I quite enjoy your bits and pieces. 🙂
      (even if I’m late in saying so)

    1. It does at that Forrest.
      That should be the slogan.
      Hell’s Home…(never boring!) lol I wonder how Aaron’s meditation worked out? Have you heard from him yet? 😉

    1. No worries, I don’t mind at all Shey.
      Very honored as a matter of fac-whewee..
      Give me a tic to catch my breath and I’ll be break dancing shortly.
      No really.
      At age 40, the question isn’t what am I to break while dancing-but rather what aren’t I? 😉

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