The 8 on Broad Street - The Gleaming

It was midnight and the day had been fruitless. The city was on alert and what few citizens were out into the night, walked in groups of three or four sometimes more. It was as if everyone and the entire city were in lock down mode.


People scampered by, afraid of their own shadows and were keeping in tight formation. They all knew of him, though no one could identify his face and that would allow him to walk freely among them for a while longer. For now, he was happy to sit in the shadows of this dark alley while watching the parade of souls stroll by in the tidy groups.



He knew that he could still strike as he had done before when similar alerts were called. He would just make adjustments and change his style to match the new situation. But this time it was different, he felt insulted even pitied by this pathetic display. Tonight would have to be a special night, one that would put an end to this idea of safety in numbers and relative safety, yes, tonight they must see that there is no hope for anyone or anything living.



He sat and pondered the situation, he knew that he could get the job done but if any one survived he could be identified and that would not allow him to move freely about. But most importantly it might remove or limit his ability to eat at the diner and he may have to give up those lovely eggs.



He thought deeply as another group of strollers approached him from the wet foggy street. There looked to be about eight of them, all male and they showed signs that they had been drinking.



One in the group was a young man in a blue jacket and he was yelling something about being ashamed of his friends for not standing up to someone in a place they had just visited. They ignored him as they walked, which only seemed to irritate their friend further.



The young man ran to the front of the group and walked backwards for a few moments while chastising his friends for their obvious cowardly retreat.



As they approached and passed, the man in the blue jacket noticed that there was an extra man in the group that was now following them. And he tried to focus his drunk and tired eye's to find the identity of the massive and very tall hooded follower.



When a street lamp they passed partially illuminated his face, the man could see that he was not a part of their group and signaled his friends to look behind them. They thought it was the booze still talking and continued to walk on unaware of the unspeakable danger lurking just over their shoulders.



The man in the blue jacket tried to see again who the follower was by letting the group go a little past him so that he could make out the stranger more clearly.



As the new stroller approached, he could see the hate in his eyes and the rage. He started to call out to his friends once more but was silenced by a 28-inch blade that cut through his neck like butter and his headless body slumped to the ground in a quiet heap, the only sound being the pulsing squirt of blood.



This would have been enough on most nights but tonight he felt that the city needed to be taught a lesson and his rage could not be controlled. He waded into the men; decapitating two more from behind before the others could turn around. The frenzy of murder continued until there was only one man left standing.



The young man stood in paralyzing silence as the man approached to within inches of his face. He wet his pants as the stranger circled him and thunderously spoke.



" Lets see what you are really made of. Can you see the gleaming? " He growled from under the dark hood. As he stared deep into his eyes of his victim he was astonished further as the eyes began to glow and sink inward as if they were whirlpools. All inside them were sights of agony and pain and a fire burned red, in some sort of hell reflected in his dark orbs. The man lifted him up and stared even deeper and the young man could see white light shining through a cloud of mist and someone standing there, someone terrible, even more awful than the man about to slaughter him now. The specter was waving him forward, beckoning for him to follow. " You see it don't you?" " What do you see, what do you see, tell me what is it that you see?"



The young man tried to answer but could not speak. It was too much for him and as he began to pass out. He could remember hearing a voice as he started to lose consciousness repeating, " I have found you, we will speak again. Remember all and we will end the Gleaming."



He placed the boy carefully to the ground and away from his slaughtered friends, removing a piece of identification from the young mans wallet, he retreated back to the shadows.



A friend appears.



A Chance Meeting






The Harvesting






The Man-Wolf






The Sacrifice at Ridgemont






The Gleaming






The Gleaming - Continue the Gleaming

The Gleaming - a Friend Appears

Rainy Day Killer Slays Seven, One Escapes Blood Bath


A friend appears.


The next day the papers read, "Rainy Day Killer Slays Seven, One Escapes Blood Bath."



"My" he thought. "If I could only find that writer, I could see if he could escape." Today he missed his usual breakfast and found himself standing on a bridge that separated the hustling city from the relative quiet of the suburbs. He could see the faces of the people in the cars as they whizzed by and he wondered what their life was like. Did they have peace in the their eyes or was the look on their faces really hiding some unspoken fear as he had come to realize in his own life?



Would he go days or months without this pain to kill returning or would he finally just find the strength to defeat this thing once and for all?



He would have a chance at beating it if he knew what he was up against. Something in his head ordered him to do this and he could not disobey. He could not see his own eyes to see what was there but he knew that there was something. He had tried seeing it once before but the event nearly killed him. He had stared into a mirror trying to find the secret but fell dizzy and collapsed to the floor deadly ill.



For days he suffered in agony with no hope. The pain was so severe that he could not see living through it. Then on the 3rd day, he was released from deaths grip and stumbled back to his bed, where he collapsed once more. When he finally came to his senses, it had been seven days of torturous hell and he did not ever want to experience it again.



Better if he find someone to look for him and maybe they could tell him what his own eyes would not.



He had decided that when the need to kill consumed him, he would demand of those who were about to perish, that they tell him what they saw in his eyes, if anything.



And that's the way he had planned it until the events of yesterday. Before then, he had no one tell him anything they had seen, neither had this one but he felt that he had seen something. Now he had found someone who may help him make sense of his life and gain control over his nature. But whatever he saw was so frightening and so horrifying that it almost killed the young man and probably would have if he had not passed out.



The cars were thinning out now and the rush hour was almost over and he had some time to kill, breakfast was waiting. He looked towards the pedestrian path where two bodies lay headless. He had approached their broken down cycle on the bridge a few minutes earlier and wanted to ask them about the "gleaming" but things got out of hand and he tossed the bikes off the bridge and left their bodies to be found.



But now he was hungry and only one thing would do, scrambled eggs!



He entered the doors to the restaurant and immediately the familiar aroma of the kitchen engulfed him as he walked to his table and took his seat by the window. It was where he studied the street as usual, looking for a target.



He ordered his meal and watched carefully through the dew-covered glass.



When his food arrived, he thanked the waiter and began his usually wonderful meal.



But something was wrong this day. Something made his senses tingle with alert and it was not like anything he had felt before or was it?



He hurried to finish his meal and returned to the alley where he had stood many hours earlier. Something seemed to be drawing him back to the scene of the crime committed the night before. He did not know why but he had to return there, now.



He knew there would be something there, something he had missed maybe a clue to himself. Whatever it was, it was pulling him back to the scene of his last crime.



When he reached Broad Street, the police were still on the scene and although they were busy collecting evidence, people were coming and going as if they were unaware or uncaring of what had happened just a few hours earlier. It took him only a few minutes to find what he was looking for as he stared from the alley out to the sidewalk. Down the street, he recognized a figure that he had not seen in a long time, Tom Sheppard. He was now on the case. Why? How does this rank him?



For the first time in his memory, he panicked and started to run back towards familiar streets. He temporarily lost his bearings and found himself back near the bridge. He thought he might escape by crossing over into the suburbs, putting distance between him and this threat. The reason for his panic was not quite certain; he just knew he had to get away. Crossing the bridge, he passed the place he had placed the bodies of the motorcycle riders and took a moment to glance at their lifeless decapitated bodies. He had not been able to ask them if they could see the "gleaming" because they had been in too much of a fighting mood and actually attacked him. He had no time this morning to fight and quickly dispatched them.



They were still there and he stared back at them while he hurriedly walked past.



When he turned his head back, a figure stood before him. It was Sheppard and he was walking towards him, his hand extended. "Why do you run from me old friend, I am hear to be of help to you. I have a deal for you". "You are here to capture me and that can not happen," He shouted back as he climbed a pillar and leaned precariously on a cable." Not yet, not now, when I am so close to an answer". And with that he leaped from the bridge, tumbling hundreds and hundreds of feet to the water. Sheppard stood for a while looking down into the fast moving water, regretting what had just happened. This was going to be hard to adjust to. He had just witnessed the death of the only man who had even the slightest chance of saving mankind.

****************************************************************************************



A Chance Meeting






The Harvesting


"There may not be a perfect crime but there is near perfection in some criminals. These 'harvesters of man' wander the Earth avoiding capture or detection. You seldom learn of their horrendous crimes unless they are accidentally uncovered and even then, they are hushed up and spirited away to unknown locations, to await their fate from a justice system who would rather forget their atrocities than alert the public of their crimes." - Thomas Sheppard 2009.


Those were my words and I am, did I mention, uniquely qualified for this job, which I will explain later, until then, my code name is "Reaper".










The Gleaming






The Gleaming - Continue the Gleaming






The 8 on Broad Street

The Gleaming - Continue the Gleaming

It was still raining as he made his way around the house to the car of the boyfriend, he could see that the door had been broken in and climbing into the still running but empty sedan, he drove off silently and un-noticed towards the city.


It had been a good day overall he thought to himself. He had made a new friend, got out of the city for the day and acquired a very nice car. As he drove down the rainy streets he made sure that he did not move too swiftly, emergency responders were screaming by at a high rate of speed.



He enjoyed the drive back to the city and turned on the radio as he rustled through the glove compartment. Finding a small Walkman like radio he noticed that it had the face and colors of an American flag, which amused him, so he stuffed it into his pocket. He had no intention of keeping it but it would just give him peace tonight. It would help by drowning out the pain until the rains came again.



Back in the city he disposed of the car in the river and walked slowly back to the nest across town, to the place he called his home.



Passing store windows he could see the fuss being made of his latest exploits and from television to television he strode by watching the image of the house he had left earlier. A mans face was talking to the cameras and he paused for a moment, his interest peaked. The caption read David Scott - Chief Investigator "Rainy Day Killings".



He laughed a bit and thought, "That will have to change".



The next day in the city was clear and the people were all about going their separate bustling ways but all tongues were abuzz with yesterday's news in Wine Hurst. The "Rain Man" as the citizens had now labeled him, had struck again. This time outside the city, now even the suburbs were not safe.



Scene: a meeting of the Rainy Day Killer task force, with the press invited.



David Scott addresses reporters; "The toll of dead and missing is now at seven men and women and we are no closer to catching him than we were the first day. A special task force has been put together weeks ago but by now everyone from psychics, to amateur criminologists have offered their help in stopping this mad man but still nothing." "This latest crime provided clues but not many" " We knew or felt strongly that the killer was a man, until now we were only guessing but the description of the suspect's voice and strength leads us to believe that not only he is a man but indeed a very strong one. The victim survived but did not actually see her attacker. She suffered only a small cut to the back of the neck but she is OK and talking". " Citizens are advised to be diligent and to walk in pairs. Stay away from areas where you are not familiar with and away from people you do not totally trust." " Any and all tips should be directed to our hot line and they will be processed most vigorously". " We will schedule other briefings when the need arises to let you know more". With that, the interview was ended, the reporters led out and the doors closed.



While not too far away, outside a family restaurant, a man opens the door and strolls inside. He waves at the management and acknowledges the cook as he walks past the ordering window and to his usual table by the window. He takes a menu and asks for two eggs scrambled 'light' with dry toast and coffee.



Finishing a fine breakfast once again, he felt renewed and the start of the drizzle outside only served to heighten his feelings of impending mental satisfaction, for it was only with the rains that the 'gleaming' could be truly seen on his blade and only with the glittering water could he find temporary peace. The rains enclosed him and shouted down the thoughts that blasted through his head; they soothed him like a primordial bath of all-consuming sensations.



Some things about himself he knew well and others were still a mystery. He knew why he loved the glitter of the rain and the 'gleaming' of all things shiny but he had little clue about why he felt the need to kill and to see his victims' eyes while the blade struck home.



The last few days had been difficult, not because of the task force or the alerted citizenry but it had not rained one drop and that had troubled him deeply.



But now he could hear the familiar rumbling of thunder, as the clouds prepared to deliver the glistening that would bring the great rapture. He waited for these long dry days and soon he would see and show the "gleaming once more".



He had gotten to the diner late and finished his meal in a hurry but still he was behind in his schedule. Usually he went to the various places in the city where he could find new targets but today he planned to sit by the water and enjoy the rain first.



As he was leaving, he noticed that the cook had a radio like the one he had taken from the car a few days ago. Since he had already purchased another and the one the cook had seemed in bad shape, he pulled the striped red white and blue radio from his pocket and offered it to his culinary hero. He loved his eggs cooked just right and the man was the best in town. The cook gladly accepted the gift and watched him with confusion as he walked out into the downpour.



The catch: When he reached the park he was truly in ecstasy, he walked to the waters edge and slumped to the ground and fell to his back with joy. He let the rain cover him with its glittering justice and reason, this was the reward, and this was his reason to be.



After a moment he sat up and spotted a fisherman at the end of the walk near the railing and rose to his feet. He watched the man fixing his pole in the steady drenching downpour and the man smiled as he approached. "You love the rain too" the man shouted speaking above the roar of thunder and the pounding rains. " Some people tell me Joe you gotta be missing your head to go out in this to fish. You know, you really have to have a heart for fishing to come out into this. I guess I really got a heart for it" he again shouted.



In a guttural bellow of a voice he answered back to the fisherman " Do you really, lets take a look".



The next morning, the newspapers told of a weekday fisherman found floating in the river, his head removed and chest split open. Missing was his heart, which would be found a few days later dangling from a hook on a fishing pole in a water side park.



In a restaurant nearby the next day, its usual morning occupant chooses the usual table and a familiar order is taken, two eggs scrambled 'light' with dry toast and coffee.



The Gleaming






A Chance Meeting

The Gleaming

When he left the restaurant he was very pleased, Julian was really on his game this morning, paying the bill he gave Julian and his mother his thanks and left a good tip.


He always loved coming here, the eggs were always so perfect and the staff so kind that he just felt so at home. He thought to himself that maybe one day he would try their lunch. Opening the restaurant doors to leave he saw her standing in the rain.



Her eyes were hazel and although he did not like targeting women with that eye color, he was uncontrollably drawn to this one, "the Gleaming" was truly in her eyes.



She had a fresh look and as he passed by her slowly, he could smell the gentle remnants of the lilac bath she had taken recently.



She hardly noticed him as he removed a piece of mail from the handbag she carried loosely on her shoulders. The letter was stamped but not mailed and turning away for a moment he paused for a few quick seconds to examine it.



He could see that her name was possibly Rebecka and that her boyfriend was probably Bill and that he was on a business trip and that she missed him dearly.



Standing right next to her and reading these private thoughts that she only recently written gave him chills, so much so that he lost touch with himself and climbed aboard the bus with her when it arrived.



He moved to the rear of the bus as she found a seat up front, as he passed, the lilac perfume wafted into the air and for a moment he was transfixed.



The ride was long and even though he was not prepared, he felt that it would be fine and he was not nervous at all.



But then he had never been nervous before, it was not a part of his makeup. As the bus lumbered to her stop, she stepped out of the front and he watched her as he exited by the rear door.



Into the rain they stepped, her heading off to her home and him following from the other side of the street. He had practiced this technique often ,even when he did not feel "the Gleaming". He would often practice following people undetected and unaware. It was almost as nice as the real thing but nothing was as wonderful as the light in the eyes of a mark that feels the passion and pain of the "Gleaming". The rush he felt drew him ever closer to her as she walked casually to her house on this quiet street in the suburbs.



When she got to the little yellow house, she paused at the gate and looked around in all directions but he was in the alley beyond her sight. Feeling safe she walked to the door and removed the key from under her porch mat and when she stood to open the door, he was instantly upon her. Forcing the key that was still in her petrified hands deep into the lock and turning it, while covering her mouth, muffling her screams. Once inside he forced her to the bedroom and tied her with sheets from her bed. She screamed and begged from under the gag but he did not notice or care, she was today's remedy for his ills and that was that. His attack had been so sudden that he was sure she had not seen his face, plus he had forced her face down on the bed while he tied her.



The rain was pouring outside and they were still dripping wet from the torrent. I won't look at you she said in a muffled voice from under the gag. "Really" he replied. "What if I have to look at you my dear? You are quite lovely". She could feel his hot breath on the back of her neck and struggled to free herself. Just then, a knock came at the door and he quickly tied her to the bed and went into the living room and peered out of the window into the storm. "It's me, Bill, honey open up I got in early". The doorknob moved vigorously and he knew that he would go for the key next. The key was always kept under the mat and when he could not find it, he would know she was inside. He went back to his car for a minute perhaps to call her from his cell phone or worse, so while her boyfriend was in the car, he went into the bedroom quickly and removed the Gleaming.



When the police arrived and forced the door open, she was tied to the bed with a note attached to her body that read "Wet lilac is your scent".



Part I - A Chance Meeting


  

The Sacrifice at Ridge Mount

The Sacrifice at Ridge Mount


Intro:



When the haze of the morning light first appeared over the lampshade in my sparsely furnished room, its amber brilliance burned my face like fire. I rolled over to shield my eyes from the effects of the previous night but knew I would eventually have to face it. As the sun peels back the dark, cloudy veil of the night, it has a way of rejuvenating memory and making things crystal clear.



In my small estate, as far as I could remember, last evening had been another sorted tale of deviation and promiscuousness, not unlike many others that had been repeated time and time again in this mountain retreat that was so far away from civilization and societies barriers.



The place had more than one paradox; the first was that it was just far enough away from the city to claim being in the peaceful countryside yet it was not close enough to civilization that one would feel completely safe. I guess that is why the parties started. In a way they began to keep me pacified until I could find a loophole that I could crawl through in my contractual agreements of the will and unload this lonely fortress for cash.



I had received this house from an inheritance. A distant uncle had left it to me along with 5,00 acres or "hectors" as stated in the will. His last wish was that it was to be kept in the family, so by virtue of my deceased parents, here I was, master of all that I surveyed.



My eyes scanned the room to search for the usual left over friends or acquaintances that, like me, are hung over and not yet ready to safely take the long mountain road ride back to the city. Climbing to my feet, I stagger down the hallway to the kitchen.



The other paradox of this place was that the land was large enough to house a few armies in bivouacs but the house was not large enough for a live-in maid, not that I could afford one on my income. As I crack two eggs and watch them start to sizzle in the pan, I fantasize in my aching head about breakfast in bed.



Finding a chair I sit and try to enjoy what I have clumsily prepared. Looking down at my watch I could see that it was 7:05 Saturday. As I begin to sip the concoction I generously call coffee, my freshly focusing eyes gaze around the kitchen and through the open door into the living room.



My eyes start to focus into the still murky morning light.



There she was by the fireplace. It looked like a small child curled into a ball by the fire and the dim light of the slowly dieing embers bathed her.



As I stared deeper into the early morning light, the figure seemed to change form, growing larger now as if expanding, this while I rushed to offer assistance and all the while she was shivering uncontrollably.



When I reached the fireside in the living room, I found that it was a young woman not a child. Checking her for injuries I placed her on the sofa and went to retrieve a blanket to cover her. When I returned she had recovered a bit and was sitting up and conscious.



"Where are you from? Are you in pain?" I asked. She said nothing to me but I could tell by her smile that she was grateful for my help.



I placed more wood on the fire and told her I was going for help but when I did she grabbed my arm sobbing as if she was afraid of me leaving her alone. As I attempted to pull away from her clutch, it grew stronger and stronger. The grip she had was strangely tight and her hands were icy cold. The foul stench of death permeated the air. I felt as though I was being lifted up and then down towards her.



Pulling me ever closer I could see deep into her eyes as she stared at me silently. Her eyes seemed to change into something not quite human and as I looked deeper and deeper, I started to lose myself in their hypnotic spell. I felt that I was being pulled, ever so slowly into hell. I could hear a voice in the room calling out as if from a cave " Remove this pain from me and give me peace" the voice thundered through the house.



I tried to get free but I could not move. I was caught fast by her frozen hands. I struggled for a long time and then at some point I blacked out.



When I came to, I was back in my bed and watching the sunlight dance across my lampshade. I sat for a moment in sublime peace and suddenly remembered. I ran into the living room but there was no one there. I looked into the other rooms but could not find a soul.



When I was sure that there was no one in the house, I sat down again in the kitchen and pondered back into the living room where the specter had appeared.



"This had happened" I found myself saying, "This did happen", I caught myself saying out loud. I vowed then and there to find the answers to what occurred that night but little did I know it would also uncover a lot about myself that I may not have wanted to know.



A strange calm came to me as I now looked down at my watch, it was now Friday 7:15 the day before.



Next week: A Window to the Past



Other Short Stories by



Robert Lee Alford Jr.



The Man Wolf






The Harvesting






A Chance Meeting

 



 

The Harvesting - Ripping Tales by Robert Alford

"There may not be a perfect crime but there is near perfection in some criminals. These 'harvesters of man' wander the Earth avoiding capture or detection. You seldom learn of their horrendous crimes unless they are accidentally uncovered and even then, they are hushed up and spirited away to unknown locations, to await their fate from a justice system who would rather forget their atrocities than alert the public of their crimes." - Thomas Sheppard 2009.


Those were my words way back then, in a now historic letter to the World Council . I made the mistake of giving my opinion, the council agreed and drafted me to my present position.



Those were my words and I am, did I mention, uniquely qualified for this job, which I will explain later, until then, my code name is "Reaper".



For ten years my job was to detect these vile creatures and bring them to justice but that was before "The Times" , now my job is to terminate them, with extreme prejudice, wherever I find them. I am above the law and operate on a charter from the Supreme Council of the Earth Church and International Law, which gives me the authority and tools to pursue this race of evil and ready the Earth for "End of Days" I track them to hells gate and sometimes beyond.



Case 1. Killing Field:



April 1st 8am. London's tube system near Tottenham Court Road. It was an old abandoned subway station that had not been used in many decades. Now it is one of the British Tubes long abandoned, so called "Ghost Stations". It was formally called British Museum Station and as I walked with investigators toward the sight, down the dimly lit tracks, you could feel the death all around you.



There were only a few body parts on the tracks and only a little blood, much less than the situation I had been alerted to, so I signaled for the transportation trolley to enter the tunnel to take me to the next station, where the commuter train had stopped and the full brunt of the tragedy was first revealed. "We've closed down the line for a mile, in all directions and we can expand the quarantined area if needed and we have seven hundred heavily armed officers topside" he said as we boarded the trolley. "That won't be needed" I said "When we get to the platform, have you and your men clear out and I'll get in touch with you when they are needed". As we approached the station, I stepped out and the investigator insisted, "well at least let us leave a few men here with you. They say this is the worst they have seen". I ignored his words and walked away as the trolley rolled off "Just maintain your distance and let nothing and no one out , not even me". " But what about you?" he asked. I did not reply I had to get to work.



I could smell the specter and I could sense that he was watching, I knew that his pale eyes were fixated on me, even in the darkness. My next move would be crucial and there was no time to think.



　**************************************************************************************************************



From a series of short stories, inspired by true life events and dreams...anticipated release date Dec. 2010.....Ripping Tales by Robert Alford










 

Witch Fight - Part II

...As he fell to the floor, he could not control his arms to brace himself for the fall. He fainted into unconsciousness. "He is blood but I will destroy him and you, if my property is not returned immediately" said the old woman. John lay there helpless and watched the two cousins become combatants. First, they just stared at each other, then he saw his grandmother sit in the chair by the fire. "I guess to be fair you should go first, you are technically older" she said as she closed her eyes. " Bring on all the evil you can. I am ready for it."


"Do not worry. I promise it will be quick and you will not feel a thing" said the old woman.



With her back to John, who was still on the floor, he could see something shiny that she was holding in her hands. It was a blade!



As the old woman neared her, John tried to get to his feet but could not. He tried to warn his grandmother but could not speak. As he struggled to move, he watched the old lady move toward her prey. His grandmother opened her eyes once more and smiled at John just before the dagger was thrust into her heart.



He could not believe his eyes. He had just watched his grandmother be murdered, right in front of him. He could not lift a hand to prevent it.



The sounds of the raging storm died down as the young woman leaned forward. Lifeless. "This is not what I wanted," she said now staring at the young woman," "I gave her every opportunity". " She told you of the amulet did she? Is it on you perhaps?"



He struggled to stand once more as she moved toward him but still he could not move. He was so filled with fear that he could feel the sweat itch under his skin as the knife was raised. The old woman stopped in mid plunge; with a startled look on her face. She stood motionless. Then John could see his grandmother was now standing behind her holding the Amulet. " You couldn't unlock the power of this but I did, with the help of my daughter who you betrayed and killed. We have found out how to put you to rest, finally. Your master knows of your thievery and he has heard all. A mysterious fiery arm enveloped the old woman and pulled her back towards the fireplace. The old woman was still frozen when she hit the fire and the flaming arm held her tightly in place. Suddenly John lurched forward, he could move once more.



"Go dear. Leave me with her. It is my turn to stir the pot" "I will remember you to your mother. Now go quickly!" John felt as though he was being pushed from behind towards the exit. As he neared the door , it opened and he was pushed into the yard.



A blood-curdling scream came from within and he knew that it was the old woman crying in agony. The screams continued for a while and then stopped abruptly. Soon he could see that a fire had begun inside and the house was burning. He tried to re-enter the house but the door was locked. He had to try to help his grandmother whom was still inside. Just then, the door opened and she walked out.



"Grandma are you O.K.?" he asked. "I saw her cut your throat". "And so she did" answered his grandmother. He could see she looked different now. She had aged once again and she seemed very weak. "Get me away from here quickly!" John helped her to his car and transported her away from the burning house.



"I'll get you to a hospital, you're going to be alright", he said, as he raced toward the highway. He did not stop until he was there and when he went to help his grandmother out of the back seat she was gone.



And.



He never saw her again.