The worn floor creaked beneath the female officer’s foot. Moving with her back pressed tight against the wall, she edged her way to the corner of the hall. She looked to the 9mm pistol in her right hand, hoping it would offer her some reassurance. She took a deep breath. Her body spun round gracefully, her arms bringing her flashlight and gun to bear down the long hall.

Her eyes were transfixed as she followed the beam of her flashlight which scoured the hall for any sign of activity. She let out a long sigh as she walked steadily down the corridor. A layer of cold sweat covered her forehead and her hands were shaking. All the years she had spent in the force as a detective, and nothing prepared her for the events that had occurred this night.

She almost screamed, spinning round frantically looking down the hall she had come from. She had sworn she had seen something move, a shadow maybe, but there was nothing. She was taking unsteady breaths, reluctantly she lowered her gun willing to believe that maybe she had imagined it.

When she turned round to continue her search it took her brain a few seconds to analyse what she saw. She had been caught off guard and those lost seconds were all it took. Her gun was knocked from her hand, the bullet that had been fired impacted into the ceiling. She struggled frantically against the vice like grip that had her pinned against the wall, her feet dangling in the air.

Her eyes rolled upwards, she was choking, struggling for air. The last thing she heard was the sound of high calibre gun fire as the darkness consumed her and she blacked out.

((all feedback welcome))

Hey! Don't stop in the middle of it!! What's next???? :shock:

((Ok, you got my attention!

Her eyes opened slowly, her mind was clouded and her senses numb. Her vision cleared from a hazy blur and it was only when she recognised the man kneeling beside her that she realised it was not a nightmare, or at least that the nightmare had not ended.

The man kneeling over her was her partner. He was stereotypically dressed; wearing a long trench coat and a cheap suite. He extended his arm to her, she grabbed it, he stood, pulling them both to their feet. Simultaneously they both glanced to the bullet ridden corpse of the man they had been sent to hunt; a particularly cruel Murderer. They both let out a relieved sigh as they faced each other.

He placed his fingertips to her heavily bruised neck and muttered a curse. “Damn, we better get you to a doctor” She simply shook her head “I’m fine. Let’s just get this bastard taken care of.”

“Wow” he let out a little laugh “You must really not like him. Not that I…”

An eerie loud screech, maybe a laugh, cut off the male agent. He glanced to the now empty floor, no trace of the corpse, except for a small pool of blood. “Jesus! I put at least four rounds in the bastard”

She retrieved her flashlight and gun then looked to her partner “You’d better radio for back up” he pulled out his mobile phone, flipped open to reveal the display screen. He shook the thing furiously.

“What the fuck, I’ve got no signal” Another loud eerie screech. This time it felt closer, almost as if it surrounded them. “Let’s get out of here”.

Her exhausted body ached and her heart thundered. The sound of her heavy footsteps resonated throughout the empty hall as she traversed the maze of corridors. She had been glancing back into the darkness to confirm that her partner was still alongside her in this nightmare. He had been. Then the loud thud came. She stopped in her tracks.

She placed her head in her hands, gripping onto her sweat soaked hair; she was struck with a great wave of panic and fear. There was no sign of her partner and now she would either have to go back and find him or carry on alone, deeper into this maze. In her mind there was no choice. She brushed the hair from her eyes as her mind spun into overdrive; planning for every possibility yet preparing her for none. She held onto her pistol tight, her fingers and knuckles white from the pressure.

This time she crept cautiously down the corridor with shaky and uneven steps. In her attempt to move silently she almost forgot to breath. Her eyes were glazed over, never blinking. Her senses were on overload. She shivered uncontrollably, a chilling mist seeped around the corner of the junction ahead. This time she would be ready, the eerie shadows and whispers would not distract her. Nothing would. She was ready for anything, everything.

His dark silhouette appeared, her finger tightened. The incredible noise of the gun firing broke the silence as it hurtled its speeding bullet.

((all feedback welcome))

Astonished and horrified she watched as the bullet just went right through him and impacted into the wall. In rapid succession she fired three more times, the bullets had the same effect, nothing. He was coming closer towards her; he didn’t move he just seemed to float across the floor, as if the world was shaping itself around him.

She was transfixed by his presence, unable to break eye contact, barely able to control her body. He let out another high pitch screech, he was enjoying his game. His arm moved and brought a fire axe into view.

The gap between them was closing; she was edging backwards trying to keep the distance as she fired her pistol. The feelings coursing through her were indescribable; the gun in her hand, a valiant creation of man, the protector against harm, her only weapon and it was useless. She was defenceless, feeling vulnerable and naked. The inevitable dawned upon her, in her mind she knew she was going to die. Tears were streaming down her face; she fought against them, trying to steady her resolve.

She took aim again but before she could pull the trigger she lost her footing and slipped, landing on her back hard. The fall left her winded and surprised and she tried to rise to her feet by pushing on her hands, but they just slipped across the floor. If she could have screamed she would of, seeing her hands coated in blood, the same blood she had slipped in.

The dark silhouette was almost upon her, she frantically searched for her gun, and it was behind her and to far away to reach. Crawling on her back, using her elbows and feet she desperately tried to escape. One last glance to her gun, almost in range, a voice spoke; it felt like it was inside her mind, a hiss, “Time to die”.

He was above her, taking a swing with his axe, she screamed raising her hands in an attempt to deflect the incoming blow.

((any feedback would be appreciated))

((nicely done! very creepy, Silent Hill-ish. lookin' foward to the next post.

He had vanished, the blow never came. There was nothing. Once again she reached for her gun, her training the only thing she could rely on. A layer of blood covered her clothes and hands, blood soaked hair sticking to her face. A sound caught her attention, the sound of a piano, playing a slow repeating note.

She walked down the corridor; the sound getting louder as she got closer until she finally pinpointed the source of the music. The handle on the door would not twist; she took a step back and kicked the door ajar.

It swung open to reveal a lavish apartment with doors leading to the bedroom and bathroom. The entrance room housed a lounge area, tables and chairs, a desk and a piano. She looked in disbelief at the piano, the music continued yet no one was playing it. The door slammed shut behind her, in panic she turned around.

Her partner stood at the entrance to the room, his mouth open as if to speak, no words came; he just stood there with a confused look. His face contorted uncontrollably, a gurgling noise tried to escape his from his blood filled throat. A mist of blood covered his eyes that tried to retreat into his skull. The bullet wound in his head gushed out blood as he collapsed.

The gun in her hand, still hot to the touch, she dropped it in disgust. Her legs were weak, they gave in and she fell to her knees. Her stomach lurched and she vomited. She was repulsed by the sight of her dead partner’s body, the smell of his blood, the look on his face; but she found herself unable to avert her gaze.

“Oh my god what have I done?” she muttered through broken sobs.

The dark silhouette loomed over her shoulder whispering into her ears. Her head was nodding slowly, acknowledging his words, her hand reaching for her gun once more. Transfixed by his words she brought the gun in front of her face, reversed her grip on the handle, and looked into the barrel.

“Yes it’s the only way…” Her resolve was set; her sobs fading, breathing steadily. She took the barrel into her mouth, her thumb squeezed on the trigger, the hammer pulling back before striking down hard.

((ok... you got my attention! :twisted: ))

50 Years later, September 2003

“I am Duch Łowca; the hunter of wayward spirits. There was a time when I once had a mortal name, probably not to different from yours. However, the times are always changing and even now I struggle to recall the slightest details of my past. You see I have become compelled to look towards the future; I must always stay one step ahead of my destiny. I was told by a most beautiful and wise lady that our actions define who we are and what we are to become. What I am about to reveal to you will open your eyes to the path that I am forced to walk down, the lonely path of immortality as a child of darkness in the world of eternity. But first I must feed.”

His withered husk of a body lay shattered and dormant in its resting place, a coffin buried several feet beneath the earth. The time was approaching for him to arise, to fulfil his duty. His stiff limbs returned to his control as he awoke from his deep slumber. The solid oak of the coffin creaked; a fury of quick strikes from Duch weakened the panel above him. A final punch splintered the wood; the ground above cascaded, flooding the coffin with dirt and soil. He clawed his way through the earth, digging a path towards the surface.

The final rays of the sun scolded his eyes as it dropped down into the horizon. A short gasp caught his attention. A young boy, barely in his teens, stood before him dressed oddly in black denim trousers and a leather jacket. He was covered in dozens of facial piercings and his hair was dyed a dark purple. The spray can he was holding fell from his grip as his body was consumed by fear.

Duch glanced from the spray can, to the headstones that were covered in a fresh coat of graffiti then he moved his gaze back to the punk. He spoke in a raspy dry voice, “Its not nice too desecrates the graves of the resting”. In a flash he was upon the punk, gripping onto his shoulders as his fangs bit hard into the tender flesh of the boy’s neck. The sweet, warm blood flooded Duch’s mouth as he hungrily devoured the life force of this mortal. When his thirst was sated he let the corpse fall to ground as the blood coursed through his body, restoring him.

“Every half a century during the autumnal equinox when the stars are aligned the barrier between our world and the spirit realm is weekend. This creates an opportunity for spirits, spectres, ghosts and wraiths to cross over into our plane of existence. While many do not choose to do so there are those apparitions who are reluctant to release there grip on the mortal coil.”

“My destiny has become entwined with one of these spirits. It seeks to make a firm hold on our reality by searching for a shell, a body that it can coexist with and once again have solid form. While it is able to jump from mortal to mortal and possess its fundamental abilities it searches for the one host capable of manifesting its true power.”

“For centuries I have hunted down this spirit, preventing it from finding its host. The Equinox is upon us and I once again awaken from fifty-years of sleep to stop it.”

((Please leave your feedback after the tone, *beep*))

“Much has changed since I last walked the earth and yet again I find myself in a world alien to my eyes. The passing of time has been cruel to this new world and I have much to do and much to learn if I am to vanquish my enemy.”

He strode down the streets of New York City shrouded by nightfall and shadows as he made his journey from the outlying cemetery to the heart of this unfamiliar City. The harsh touch of the grave had lessened since he fed; his hair was grey and wispy, his skin coarse, old and pale in the light but the stench of the grave had left him. With exception to his ragged clothes the only position he carried with him was a long sword; expertly crafted and still as sharp as the day it was made.

An all too familiar word caught his attention. Advertised in obscene bright letters the words “Gun Smithy – Open twenty four hours for your protection”. He smiled at the kind gesture; but perhaps it would have been wiser for this shop keeper to be equally concerned about his own protection. He stopped outside the gun smithy and pushed the doors aside, not noticing the people on the street gathering around in curiosity and fear of Duch, a rogue bearing a sword, openly walking their streets.

“Holy Shit…” Came the response of the shop owner as Duch Łowca stepped in. He was an older man with a bolding head and ever extruding beer belly that was scarcely concealed by a stained and worn vest. He stood behind a glass counter that displayed a series of firearms and on the wall behind him were an array of rifles and larger weapons. His cigarette slipped from his lips as he starred in astonishment
“I require arms” He started walking a step at a time towards the shop owner who was clumsily fumbling for his shotgun beneath his desk. His shaking hands had finally grabbed the pump action shotgun, loaded it and took aim. He pumped the gun once but before he could fire the distance between them had been closed by Duch in an instant.

Duch had a hold of the shop keeper by the scruff of his collar and he pressed the blade of his sword against his neck. Duch Łowca spent a long time staring into the eyes of the shop keeper, probing his thoughts and trying to break his mind.

He dropped the shopkeeper as he heard the screeching of tires and the wailing of sirens followed by the sound of feet scampering outside. A voice from a speaker barked orders for Duch Łowca to drop his weapon and come out peacefully. A frowncrossed his face; he picked up the shotgun in his left hand and looked towards the shop keeper who was now cowering under the counter.

“I shall return for you.”

He pushed the doors aside with such force that they collapsed on the floor in front of him and he stepped over them and out onto the street to find himself surrounded by four squad cars that provided protection for the police officers taking position behind them He would not be able to continue his mission and be successful if he was constantly hounded by the authorities. He glanced to the floor and sighed:

“This won’t do…”

He brought his sword up, infront of his face so that the hilt was inline with his eyes and the long blade pointed up towards the depths of the sky.

Ok. NOW you have MY attention!! :shock: Keep going.