Darren lay there unbelievably calm considering the terror what had passed before him. He relived it over and over in his mind, trying to make some kind of sense of it and most of all, trying to determine whether it was real or some kind of strange dream.
It was real alright, he soon realised. A year, a while bloody year and it had found him. He was 116 miles away from where it had started, he had left no forwarding address, told no one where he had come from, so how the hell did it find him? He thought about this for several minutes and about what it wanted with him. Then about those strange snippets of its message:
Fortune, Prince, Death.
It made no sense to him but right then and there, he decided that he was going to find out. He was no longer going to run from this thing, what was the point? It would find him wherever he went, he knew that now. No, Darren was determined that the next time it appeared, he would be ready for it somehow.
Darren gathered his personal effects and headed back to to his old home. He didn't expect that any of his things would still be there after all this time but when he opened the door, it was precisely how he had left it. The mail was ankle height as he pushed his door open and the electricity had been turned off but other than that, it was as if he had only left that morning.
Darren sat on his old familiar chair. He looked at his front room from left to right very slowly. As he did, his thoughts started to drift back to the first occasions. The first strange happenings.
He drifted off with his thoughts to January 2009, that was about 3 months after he had moved in. He could recall clearly that first time. It had been snowing heavily outside and he was searching for his gloves. They hadn't been were he was sure he had left them. He'd looked in all the obvious places without success.
Walking into his living room he sensed that something wasn't quite right but he couldn't figure out what was different. He stopped at the living room door and stared in the direction of his old TV set. There was something but what it was, he just couldn't determine.
Darren walked towards the set carefully. "What is that?" he thought as his eyes tried to focus on the dark hands that seemed to be reaching right out of the screen. WHAT THE Fuuuu" he started to say to himself as he realised that his missing gloves were reaching out to him from the centre of his TV.
Darren froze on the spot, staring at the gloves and watching the fingers move up and down to form a fist on both hands. Suddenly, the TV sprang into life but only for a fleeting moment.
Darren screamed as he saw that his gloves were attached to the arms of something on the TV. It was so quick but he would never forget that image. A dark shape with human form, arms and head at least. It's eyes piercing Darren's soul and it's mouth dripping with hungering hate.
As quickly as it appeared, it had gone. Darren's gloves suddenly dropped to the floor. He cautiously walked over and picked them up. They were so cold they stuck to him and tore his skin as he ripped them off.
Darren vomited before he passed out.
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