A Rosewellian Timeslip
an excerpt

Outside Nicole’s bedroom window a disturbance gathered forces from the bits of dirt, leaves, and other debris. It twisted; spinning itself in a parody of a woman taking shape it loomed high in the air. The woman’s hair formed out of spider webs, and twisted high on her head. Bats spun around in the vortex of crap trapped by suction zapped into place in the tangle of slut’s lace. Beady, long dead mouse eyes gleamed from under the fibrous tangles, unblinking in the full moonlight. A putrid musty rose petal smell saturated the air. Long dark slits grew on the visage of this apparition, sneering, and regarding the activities within the bedroom area. It reared its head to let out a hooning curse, and it tried to gain entrance but it could not enter.

Rosewell extended its reach and smacked the dark entity with all the force that a powerful four hundred year estate could muster. The words of Anne, and Mann Page came forth once echoing again saying “…depart from our ancestral lands, never to return again…” The creature shrieked screeching and screaming as the force of that whack sent it twisting like a tornado into to the night. It arched high into the atmosphere becoming a shooting star. It streaked through the night air before it landed in a swamp just beyond the borders of the Page lands. It burrowed into the ground delving deep in the soil causing decay spreading filth in a large radius all around it. There it sapped all life from the soil, creatures from the swamp stealing their energy trying to build up its strength for another attack on the Rosewell ancestral lands.

All who passed this area by the roadside felt uneasy. They gunned their engines to speed past. The vibe felt at this spot near the road, and the odor that ensued drove all away. The imagination if one wanted to gaze across the area where the creature dove into the ground played tricks on people. The dark atmosphere that prevailed in this swampy area intruded into the minds of the weak and affected their dreams so much that most went a little crazy. Legends grew of this place. Vegetation that bordered the area sickened and died. Trees that were close looked deformed as if affected by some blight. Tree trunks lay around the radius rotting at the edge. Stagnant vapors rose from the circle around the impact. Some said the devil held court in that very spot. The fields across the road from this the blighted spot were affected. The locals said the ground was cursed. Even game that crossed that part of the landscape seemed affected. Hunters gave it a wide berth. Their dogs stayed away not bothering to enter the area. Livestock that ventured too close paid a price. At night locals reported that they saw a strange phosphorous mist dance across the landscape flitting and dancing about as if it were St. Elmo’s fire. Whippoorwills, ancient harbingers of death piped in a maniac chorus accompanied by crickets in the distance. Night birds shrieked their mournful cries.

Months past since the wraith pierced the ground. It waited patiently building its strength. Months passed before it gathered itself and arose shooting up in the air blackening the stars, as it swept past. Its hot and hellish breath pierced the night, the heading, no one dare guessed. Those who witnessed this thing rise from the ground in a darkened sickening mass crossed themselves, shuddering as evil passed by.