The Heir to Darkness Part 1 (standard:horror, 3486 words) [1/4] show all parts
Author: J. F. Naples	Updated: Jun 10 2002	Views/Reads: 3459/2309	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
The Phone Call

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

sporting events, all none for the asking, but very much appreciated.  
For the most part, names did not come with the gifts, but I knew who 
they were from.  Each and every gift was a simple way of saying, “Thank 
you.” 

And with work, I had play. 

My family and I always did things together.  When either I was off or on
vacation, we would always be doing one thing or another; going to Big 
Bear or other ski resorts during the winter, during the spring we would 
go to the zoos, summers one would find us at numerous amusement parks 
and beaches, and finally in the fall, we would hike or camp at the 
national parks and monuments scattered all about southern California.  
When my family was together, there was never a dull moment. 

(sigh) 

I loved my job.  Being a journalist isn't a nine to five job; that is if
you want to succeed in the business.  My days usually start early in 
the mornings and sometimes last well into the evenings.  There are also 
those occasions when I had to pull all-nighters to complete a story 
that was due in the wee hours of the morning to make the next days 
print. 

I was always receiving offers from other newspapers and magazines
wanting me to be in their “family”.  I was guaranteed more money, more 
vacation time, and a couple of the proposals offered promised “my own 
corner office with a spectacular view”. 

I turned them all down though.  I liked where I was.  I had my own
cubicle, my own computer, and the satisfaction of knowing that I do a 
good job.  A good enough job, in fact, to receive all these enticing 
offers from other, more prestigious, more lucrative companies. 

And I cannot forget about the people that I had worked with. 

It was mostly because of them that I stayed, not the money or prestige. 
These people were like my second family.  I would have done anything 
for them, as they would have done anything for me. 

That is, until recently. 

(a deep breath and a whistling exhale) 

Anyway, I loved, love my wife Helena, and my children, Shayna and
Christopher with all my heart, even after everything that I had put 
them through and what I had made them endure.  I didn't know when it 
was that everything had changed, but I can probably guess it was that 
night, seemingly so long ago, when I picked up the phone, and said 
nothing at all. 

*	*	*	*	* 

It was a quiet night, as I remember correctly.  Helena and I were
snuggling on the sofa.  Her head lay in my lap, and I was running my 
fingers through her dark, blonde hair, rubbing her temples, caressing 
her face.  I knew she was enjoying the attention that I was showering 
upon her, because subtle purrs passing through her lush lips had told 
me.  Shayna and Christopher were oblivious of us, lying on the floor, 
heads propped up on their hands, staring at the flickering television.  
There was a Disney cartoon playing, I remember that.  I think it was 
the mermaid one, but I cannot be for sure, for it seems so long ago, 
but it also doesn't much matter. 

As we were quietly watching television, the telephone pierced the
solitude. 

I instinctively looked up at the clock, and it was nearing nine in the
evening.  Our telephone has never rung at this hour, not in the nine 
years that Helena and I have been married.  Even if my work wants to 
contact me, they call my pager instead of calling the traditional way. 

Helena and I looked at each other, probably trying to guess whom it
might be calling at this hour, but none had come to mind.  For some 
reason that I cannot explain, it felt as if there was someone, 
something, pressing upon my shoulders, wanting me not to get up to 
answer the call.  Then I began to hear a whispered voice. 

You don't want to answer your telephone. 

I looked around casually, not to arouse suspicion, to see who might have
spoken those words, but I was blind from the speaker. 

The caller is not whom you wish to speak with. 

Helena sat up and faced me.  She asked, “What's wrong?” 

From the expression of her face, I knew that she couldn't hear the
voices that I was hearing, and I was trying to believe in that also.  
To her question, I just shook my head, and replied, “Nothing.” 

Darkness deeper than darkest of night lurks on the other side. 

I took in a deep breath, and looked towards the kitchen from where the
phone was calling out.  Still searching for the orator of the warnings, 
it kept out of sight.  I tried to block the phantom whispers, but they 
were persistent, wanting me, needing me to heed its warnings. 

I remember looking at Helena before I got to my feet.  A vision flashed
before my eyes. 

Helena looking at me as she was at that moment, but with many
differences.  One eye closed tight from bruised swelling;  her bottom 
lip, thick, sliced;  a bruise on the side of her face, and a set of 
what appeared to be teeth marks on the side of her neck, cut in deep. 

My breath caught from this horrid vision.  I brought my hand to her
face, and when I touched her battered face, the vision disappeared, 
reverting once more into my unblemished Helena. 

“Are you all right?”, she had asked. 

Releasing the breath that felt I was holding in forever, I nodded.  I
leaned over, kissed her face where the bruise was envisioned, and 
finally got up to go to the kitchen to see whom it might be calling at 
that hour of the night.  The telephone continuing with its sinister 
calling. 

(three... four...) 

I don't know exactly how many times that the phone had rung that night,
but I do remember that it had seemed as if the whole world had gone 
quiet, and the only sound that was heard was the calling of this one 
phone. 

(six... seven..) 

I slowly walked into the kitchen, and I could feel Helena following me
with her eyes.  Before I walked through the swinging doors, I turned to 
Helena.  I wish I hadn't. 

Helena cowering on the back of the sofa.  Her clothing was disheveled,
her hair in disarray, a line of blood from the corner of her mouth to 
the side of her chin.  Tears shed from her eyes, putting her hands up 
as if fending off an assailant. 

In the corner of the room Shayna and Christopher were huddled together,
holding onto one another for protection.  They were crying silently, 
and their bodies looked as ravaged as their mothers own. 

“No, Daddy,” Shayna cried. 

I turned into the kitchen quickly, feeling nausea build, with the doors
swinging closed behind me.  I walked over to the counter, leaned 
forward, closed my eyes tight to rid of the vision that I just 
witnessed.  But it felt as if it was burned deep in my mind, and I 
couldn't help but not see it. 

(nine... ten... elev...) 

I felt my body break out in a cold sweat when I picked up the receiver
in mid-ring.  I brought the receiver to my ear and listened.  I didn't 
say hello or another customary reply.  I just listened. 

Listening to utter silence. 

The visions that I had experienced started to dampen as I concentrated
on the phone.  I knew that there was somebody, someone there, but they 
chosen to remain silent.  Listening more attentively, I began to hear 
something over the profuse silence.  It sounded as if it was off in the 
distance, sounding like labored breathing.  Slowly it grew louder, 
becoming more raspy and rough. 

I felt its breath caress my skin.  The warm, rank wisp of air touched my
ear, my face, then lastly to my nose.  I pulled the receiver from my 
head in disgust and fright, and then a sensuous and seductive voice 
spoke.  I brought the receiver back to my ear, and I noticed that the 
breath had also changed.  It turned cool, soft, with a touch of lilac 
underneath. 

“You have now been chosen,” the seductive voice had said to me.  It
didn't sound as if it was coming from the telephone though.  It sounded 
as if the speaker was behind me, before me, all around.  I looked in 
all these directions, and saw nothing except for the tidy kitchen that 
Helena had always kept. 

I walked further into the kitchen to give myself a better sense of
privacy.  I knew that Helena could still see me through the slats of 
the doors, even my legs from underneath, but I wanted, needed to be 
away from her hidden, worried gaze.  Even though I knew I didn't need 
the phone, I still brought it with me. 

I also knew that when I moved from Helena's sight, she would be getting
up and coming into the kitchen to investigate.  Within moments, I heard 
her padded footfalls moving from the family room towards the kitchen.  
The familiar squeak of the doors opening told me that Helena had 
entered the kitchen.  When her footfalls did stop, I didn't need to 
turn around to see that she was looking at me worriedly, because I 
could feel it.  But to my relief, the voice and breath that was coming 
from the receiver was gone. 

The coolness, the lilac aroma, all gone. 

Those odors were replaced with the familiar scents of my kitchen, and
dial tone was all that came out of the receiver.  I felt a sweat break 
out on my forehead from the lack of coolness that the phone was once 
offering.  I wiped my brow absentmindedly, and turned to face my dear 
Helena. 

“And for the last time, I ask you kindly not to call my home anymore,
thank you,” I said into the empty telephone, and walked over to the 
cradle, slapped the receiver into it.  “Damn people.” 

I was trying to milk my time to look at Helena.  For one, I have never
acted in front of her, and two, I didn't want to see another vision 
that I had just been imagining.  With my eyes closed, I turned about, 
and slowly opened my eyes to see my unharmed Helena looking at me.  She 
lifted her hand to touch my face.  I looked into her eyes, and the 
sensations that seemed to haunt me had disappeared.  The fear, the 
anxiety, gone with the touch of my wife's hand. 

“Who was that?”, she had asked. 

Out of the nine years of marriage, I have never told her one lie, not a
single fallacy.  This would be the first. 

“It was the people from the chronicle.  The one's that I told you about
the other day.”  I could feel guilt eat away at me.  “The gull those 
people have.” 

It hurt me to know that I was lying to her, but I didn't want to get her
involved.  At that time, I didn't know what it was that I was 
protecting her from, but I knew that it could hurt her, whatever it 
was. 

I wrapped my arms around her and began to nuzzle at her neck. She let
out a little scream of surprise and began to laugh.  She wrapped her 
arms around me, jumped up, and proceeded to wrap her legs around my 
waist.  I felt much relieved, but still guilty. 

I pulled her body close to mine, and I told her that I thought it was
time for our children to go to bed, and I was quite relieved to hear 
her agreeing with me. 

Helena released her legs from my waist, and slid down to the floor.  She
walked into the family room, and after switching off the television, 
the children began making up excuses that it was too early for them to 
go to bed then. 

“Billy get to stay up until ten on the weekends.” 

“Marsha once told me that she got to stay up until midnight one time.” 

“We're not babies any more, mother.” 

But Helena had convinced them that it was better to go to bed, and that
was the end of the argument. 

I remember trying hard to forget about that phone call, that breath, the
aroma, but it lingered in the back of my mind, even as I made love to 
my wife. 

For a little while, the phone call seemed to have slipped out of reach,
out of my mind.  When we were spent like a couple of teenagers 
experiencing love-making for the first time, lying next to each other, 
wrapped in each others embrace, the voice from the phone call began to 
haunt me one again. 

I then had fallen asleep. 

That was when the dreams had begun, and I will never forget the first
dream that I had after that ill-fated phone call. 

*	*	*	*	* 

I was walking through a fog that had come no higher than my knees. 
Waves of mist parting around my legs as I strode forward.  I could feel 
its coldness, its wetness, its sense of tranquility.  The mist gave to 
me, a sense of repose.  Feeling that I could not be in a more blissful 
state, a beautiful woman had come out from behind one of the falling 
misty veils. 

Her plush brunette hair, deep blue eyes, her near naked body visible
through the sheer robe that she wore, golden skin glowing in the misty 
fantasy.  She was the most beautiful woman that I had ever seen.  Her 
stride so slow, graceful, seductive, stealing in my direction, with one 
thing on her mind. 

We slowly moved towards one another, arms opening to accept each other. 
I felt my pulse quicken with each step closer we came together.  My 
body flushed, my legs quaked, breath stolen.  We stepped into each 
others embrace, our arms slowly wrapping themselves together. 

Her skin felt softer than silk.  Warm, enticing, inviting.  Her arms
rose to be wrapped around my neck, bringing her face closer to mine 
ever so slowly. 

Her breath, the scent of lilacs. 

We kissed. 

The touch of her lips were so desirable, so smooth, so moist.  The
flitting of her tongue upon my lips, intoxicating.  Her long delicate 
fingers, smoothly running through my hair.  To my face they went and 
they held me in rapture.  Our lips parted and she stood back 
seductively.  We silently stood before one another. 

As if the misty grounds had hands of their own, they lifted her robe
from her shoulders, sliding down her slender arms, to the ground it 
hid.  She walked back over to me, parted my own robe, and removed it in 
the same fashion. 

She pressed her warm, naked body against mine.  I shivered as if her
touch drained the warmth from my own body.  She led my hands to the 
small of her back, and brought her own to my face.  Our lips touched 
once again, and as they did, our bodies began to mesh together.  Slowly 
we slid into the mist that was calling upon us. 

I had the sensation of floating.  Nothing underneath or around us except
for the tranquility of the white misty veils, and each other.  My 
senses felt amplified.  The touches, the smells, the tastes, more 
enhanced.  When I felt myself penetrate inside her, I felt her warmth 
envelop me.  Her love, her wanting, her desires. 

I felt a gossamer touch slide ever so gently down my back, down my legs
and arms.  When I looked up, I saw that there were more women around 
me, each more beautiful than the next, wanting to couple with us. 

Instinctively, I brought my lips to the woman that was knelt before me,
and her tastes was more exotic, more intoxicating.  I felt more lips 
touch my neck, my face, my body. 

Within minutes, all of us were captivated into an euphoric orgy. 
Rolling in the fog, bodies meshing together, hands caressing one 
another, kisses all around. 

Sweat mixing with sweat. 

I then woke up screaming. 

The lights immediately came on, and Helena began to comfort me.  She
asked me what I had dreamt, and my reply was another fallacy. 

“I just had a nightmare.” 

It seemed convincing enough, along with my cold sweat and rapid
heartbeat, but she wanted to know more.  I just shook my head and told 
her that I could barely recollect what it was. 

I didn't want to talk anymore about it, so I lay back down and closed my
eyes.  Soon after, the light was extinguished, and Helena wrapped her 
arms around me, pressing her own naked body against my back.  I wrapped 
my arms around her own, and opened my eyes to the darkness.  Helena 
immediately fell asleep. 

I knew sleep wouldn't come back for me that night, but my mind wasn't
set for sleep.  It was filled with that dream.  That erotic, sensual 
dream. 

(sigh) 

And later I would come to realize why the dreams were so blissfully
haunting. 


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