Hollow Sins - Chapter 3: The Crimson Boy

It's been three days since I've been in my hell hole of a gift. I don't remember much from my childhood, this thought puzzles me. I don't remember anything loving or great. There have been some moments in my life where happiness was in abundance, why my subconscious decided to block out the only memories. I'd wish were present is far beyond me. My father seemed to be a faded figure of the past, his memory lost by years of static thought. There has to be information on my family somewhere. I don't know any living relatives besides me and my cousin Dave. I alone needed to get the information on my family and I knew precisely how to do it. I told Cindy that I was heading back to the house to see what repair work needed to be done. Instead of being truthful, I went to the library instead. They have got to have some records on my family tree.

The long drive to the library only took about 10 minutes, but these 10 minutes were horrifically long. I couldn't help but think who might this new figure be? I am singled out in my mind, I'm far different than anyone, it's almost as if I am not even living most of my life. Memories only became clear upon leaving my old house. I came to the parking lot and walked through the revolving doors and was welcomed by the smell of hard covers and dusty pages. I approached the front desk when I saw Mrs. White on her computer doing her usual work. When I asked, "Hello Mrs. White you wouldn't happen to have any records on the smith family would you?" She replied with "Yes John. We do, just go down the stairs and then..." She paused typing at her desk." Here we are, go to isle 27s." She then handed me a sheet of paper with "27s" on it probably to keep me from forgetting.

While holding the paper I began to descend into the basement, walking down the blue carpet stairs. Below lye a sea of nothing but rows upon rows of shelves, files, and cabinets but where is isle 27s? They aren't organized like that... I guess each row has a number and it goes down the alphabet, so I began my search for isle 27. After walking for a few moments I found it. The light here is fairly dim and the industrial lights above are inducing a migraine. I walked down the aisle slowly waiting to reach the S's and as I did, so I felt cold, my spine tingled as if someone followed and their eyes were piercing me.

I finally reached the shelf. I began rummaging through the files and found absolutely nothing. I hadn't seen anything on the Smith family in there, I couldn't believe it. Mrs. White couldn't have been wrong I saw her type in my name and she confirmed it this is 27s! I began to rub my forehead in strain and noticed something peculiar. I saw something chrome in the back of the shelf my reflection showed dark. Tossing files and folders aside I discovered a safe with no protective device just a smooth chrome handle. I turned it till I heard the tumbles click and opened the door with ease, inside lay only a few dusty papers.

I pulled out a photo clipped to a few other papers, Thomas Anthony Smith... my great grandfather. He looked like a strong man, cold, stiff, righteous, and yet fairly old. The photo was in black and white and his eyes hold dark, he either had dark brown eyes or he was a demon and truly had black eyes seeing how unlikely that is I knew what color his eyes were. I looked at the first paper attached to the photo it was a death certificate as well as medical records and reports from his autopsy. His cause of death? Blunt force trauma to the frontal lobe caused likely by a dull ax. Wow that was gruesome who would have thought the first relative I would learn about was murdered?

I then reached deeper to discover similar information on my grandfather. Except he wasn't dead nor were autopsy reports it was a paper a story on the front page was talking about the attempt at murder against William Ray Smith. A picture was on the page but the accused had his face severely distorted probably by faulty camera work. Apparently my grandfather survived the attempt but for every good thing there is a bad thing. He was no longer able to speak his vocal cords forever damages from a slice to his neck. This early surgery saved his life but they were unable to save his voice.

So what is going on? No information on my father and everyone else murdered. My thought was interrupted by the sudden sound of deep demonic snarling. I turned around and saw him his face still black smile bright contrasting with bleeding gums. My body went into a stage of paralysis my limbs locked to my side his imaging glaring as fading darkness falls from his dark robe. "Oh John you shouldn't be poking your nose in business there is a reason you don't remember," as he spoke he smiled and snickered. "Why do you torment me so? You have always been there to torture me."

"John I don't torment you, I am but an image burned permanently into your subconscious." I then asked what his name was, he replied with "Funny you would ask my name is John as well, now enough questions John, let me show you a dark secret." I felt everything shaked my mind going blank trying to draw in all the visuals going on at the moment. The lights flicked files fell and he vanished. I closed my eyes feeling the sink deep in to my skull. I opened my eyes to a serene beautiful countryside farm. Long grass plain filled the area the only visible signs of civilization was the farm house and the barn farther in the distance.

I witnessed a young looking boy, he was peculiar looking having old jeans and a hoody as apparel. Though this was a vision I could feel the suns blistering heat. How could a young boy like him dress that way he has in this heat? I could barely make it with the t-shirt and shorts I was wearing.

He had short chopped blonde hair and eyes so brown I couldn't believe. I heard someone yell, what they had said I can't tell but the boy began to walk through the grass heading in the direction of the barn. "Follow him," the dark figure said as he put his hand on my shoulder. Both in curiosity and fright I followed the child till I reached the decaying old wooden barn. Upon entry I saw the young boy as well as an older women I'de say maybe in her early 40s? The boy had his head down as the women yelled." What the hell is going on?" Upon further inspection I noticed a bloody calf head split open, neck slit, and body mutilated the calf's young eyes were open as well as the mouth with the tongue hanging out.

The boy was surprisingly unresponsive to anything, the women had said even with her voice puncturing my eardrum. Across the room I noticed a possible murder weapon. A crimson colored scythe lean against the far wall dripping fresh and yet peacefully stationed. The women screamed." I'm sick of this demon child!" I pondered to myself, what a horrible thing to say to a child. She reached out to grab his arm but with a swift reaction the young boy caught a hold of her hand and twisted it till cracks and splintering of wood could be heard across the barn. Her pain severe as made relevant by her intense screams. The boy then brought her to her knees and stomped with his right foot on her thigh. A compound fracture had occurred and the femur protruded from the back of her leg. Her cries made my eyes water and as her screams of pain linger in my mind I felt helpless. I yelled "Stop!" the dark entity's voice jetting from who knows where replies with "John they can't here you, you're not there." What did that mean? I was there I witnessed it. The boy backed away from her staring as she screamed and attempted to ease the pain by laying on her back.

He then put his hood onto his head and began to slowly walk across the room as if to let her suffer from her injuries. How inhumane can someone be I could never evade morality with such an act. He reached the other side of the barn and reached out and grasped the handle of the scythe. Rubbing the shaft with his thumbs as if studying the feel. Walking towards the women she screamed for help, but none would come. He raised the blade over his head, hood still disguising his face. He then swung down upon the women's throat severing the vertebrae the head rolled away.

The boy lifted his head and I made a revelation. He is the cloaked figure from my most recent dream. The straw surrounding me made a vortex spinning at high speed around my body limbs once again locked then I saw his hand. The boy was reaching into the vortex as if he knew I was there. As his hand drew closer I felt blistering heat on my face. I felt as if I was burning alive his pure essence tearing through flesh I closed my eyes hoping everything would go away. I opened my eyes to find myself in silence in the library basement with a signed note in my hand. "More secrets will be revealed to you john - your friend john." What had happened to me? Who is that boy?