Haley Thistle
patreon
Berserker Boyfriend: Jacobus (special preview)
🕑 Added 2020-09-09 21:01:00 +0000 UTCA long time ago, there used to be a large house at the top of the hill. I remember it vaguely in the back of my mind. Sometimes, when I am walking through town and catch a glimpse of the hill from the corner of my eye, I can sometimes still see that imposing old house. Yet when I turn to stare directly, it’s not there. The place had been torn down long ago, back when I was small.
My father told me bad things had happened there, that if someone was found out to be descended from the Headless, they would be sent into the basement of that place. I shiver to think about it, the screams that must have come from those walls, the blood still soaked into the earth. It’s enough to make me want to weep. I fear that I have been lingering on thoughts about this house recently, and I am unsure why.
I’ve had dreams about it. I’m standing at the foot of the hill, looking up at the lights coming from the windows like flames. They blur and shift, gleaming hellishly from some ghoulish source. It almost feels like the house is looking at me, breathing on me. I can feel fire, I breathe in smoke. The doors open wide and a torrent of blood comes pouring down the hill towards me. I am unable to move away fast enough, but luckily, I always wake up before it hits me. I am bothered and perturbed by these dreams. I simply want them to end.
I haven’t been sleeping as of late to try and combat the dreams. I thought, perhaps if I didn’t sleep and ignored it, the dream would eventually leave. I am exhausted and weak, and while I am in town shopping, my vision begins to blur. I am cross eyed and woozy. I stumble forward, trying to find something to brace myself against. My hands fumble through air and I topple.
“I’ve got you!” Out of the crowd, a hero comes. He scoops me out of the air, rescuing me from a nasty plummet.
I try to see his face through the fog, but what I see is something ghastly. His face is covered in blood, his eyes are wide and unblinking, his mouth is full of sharp teeth. I faint there in his embrace, falling to unconsciousness like a bag of bricks into a well.
I dream I’m standing in the doorway of the house, all I see is red from floor to ceiling. It pulses and breathes, the walls have black veins. Someone is breathing on the back of my neck and wrapping their hands around my waist.
I wake with a fright, sitting up in bed and clutching my waist. It felt like something had been digging into my sides.
“Calm down, it’s alright.” A gentle voice coaxes me as I try to catch my breath. “You’re safe now at home.” My mother eases me back into that familiar feeling of comfort and safety. Her cool hands mop away the sweat from my brow.
“Mama, what happened?” I lay back down in bed, feeling protected that now she is by my side. “I remember being in town, and then-” Teeth and blood flash before my eyes. “I was falling.”
“You fainted, it was lucky the pastor Rothschild was nearby. He’s the one who saved you.” She dabs the cloth under my chin and down my neck.
“The pastor?” I murmur. There wasn’t a girl in the entire town that didn’t have her eye on the handsome new pastor. Jacobus had come recently to train under the old, taking over once he retired. He was tall with long dark hair, vibrant blue eyes, and the most adorable dimples when he smiled. There was a beauty mark under his left eye that almost looked like a heart, so the girls had taken to calling him Pastor Lovely.
Mama fluffs the pillows behind me, and helps me to sit up. “He’s been here all day to make sure you’re alright.”
I still feel exhausted and weak. “You can tell him I’m fine, he doesn’t need to wait here any longer.”
“He said he wishes to see you when you wake.” There’s a strange look in my mother’s eye as she says this. “He wants to pray with you.”
“I am in no state to be seen by anybody,” I try to argue. “Especially not by the good pastor.” I lay my hand over my chest where there is a tightness. “Tell him he can come by tomorrow to pray with me.”
She eyes me again, standing from the bedside. “He’s been worried sick.”
