The Wind

The walls began to visually pour with black blood in good old horror-movie fashion. Clearly this was done to intensify my fear and at the time the effect was horrific, although I didn’t have a moment in which to panic. With what little self control I had left I managed to get back into my body a couple more times, whereupon I made desperate but vain attempts to awaken the witch man beside me.

When I managed to speak – this took a monumental effort – my voice sounded strangulated and barely audible, shocking to hear. When I next got ripped out I was more horrified than ever to find that I’d brought the sleeping self of the witch with me.

I dropped him immediately and I confess that I blamed him at that moment for what was happening, considering that he had encouraged the force to come after me and had failed utterly in his promise to protect me.

Alone in the corner of the ceiling, mortally afraid and pinned into place by the wind, I gathered my thoughts enough to move along the wall, away from the large (closed) double windows where the wind seemed to be coming from.

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