The Message

Supernatural Stories | Sep 10, 2012 | 18 min read
4 Votes, average: 4 out of 5
Supernatural Stories

The Message

R. Todd Woodstock
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She stood in front of him in a torn pink nightgown. She might have been eleven or twelve, he wasn't sure. All he knew is something didn't seem right, again. It was difficult to fully see her face in the dark, but he noticed that it was pale and a trickle of blood started to run down from her nose.
"Dillon, you have to know," she said, as she held out her arms. They were covered in bruises and moist scabs.
"How do you know my name? Who are you?" Dillon asked. He was beginning to feel very uncomfortable.
"Please understand. It's for your own good." Her eyes ran with blood, as she begun to draw closer.
Dillon didn't hesitate; he turned and ran. He ran as fast as his eight-year-old legs would allow him through the woods. Screams were echoing all around him, but he continued to run. He could feel her presence behind him, but he never turned to see how close. It felt as if his heart was only seconds from exploding in his ribcage. Then when his little lungs could handle no more, he hid behind a large tree and waited.
He searched the black woods, only noticing the shadows of the large oaks and pines that lined his vision. It was wet and cold and Dillon only wished the terror would end. Dillon was grateful that the unusual screams of agony had subsided, but he didn't trust the normality of sounds that created a night in the woods. His heart was beating a rhythm that mixed in with the owls and crickets, but there was no sign of her. Suddenly, he felt a wet drop fall on top of his head, then another, and several more coming from above. A more intense creepiness overwhelmed his young mind, when he heard the limbs cracking. Dillon didn't want to know what was in the branches atop the large oak that he held so tightly to. More drops continued to fall and now he began to realize the discolored beads that begun to splatter across his arms and head were not rain droplets, but blood. He wanted to leave immediately, but he was too scared to let go of his large, wooded protector. And he was curious to know. For some strange reason, he felt if he hugged the tree harder and slowly moved his eyes upward it would be safe to know. He moved his sight ever so slowly from the dark landscape toward the sounds of snapping twigs. The pounding in his chest begun to strengthen with each level of movement and soon he would meet with what was up in the tree. Then he saw her again, only this time she was incapacitated. Her corpse was swinging from a large rope and her weight was pulling heavily on the small branch that was supposed to support her. Blood was covering most of her beautiful, pink nightgown, as more droplets fell from the sky. Dillon could feel his small legs turn to rubber when watching, as she swung one last time. The limb gave way and she quickly moved toward the blood-soaked ground below. Within seconds Dillon was able to move out of the way, as she made a solid thump. The broken branch and long rope followed behind her.
Slowly, he pulled himself up from the wooded ground and cautiously moved toward her. He couldn't understand why he was drawn to her, but he continued to approach. As he drew closer, he detected a distinct aroma that he had smelled before, but he couldn't identify the scent. It was so familiar to him and he wished he could remember where he had come across that smell before. He noticed she was face down in the muddy grass, and he had a strong urge to turn her over, so he did. Her neck had ballooned out from the suffocation and he saw the rope was embedded so deep that it almost decapitated her. His stomach began to churn from the sight. He bumped her with his foot, but she remained motionless. He bumped her a second time, but nothing again. Dillon looked down at his arms, as he watched them instantly turn to brown and black bruises. He tried frantically to wipe them off, but with no success. He started to feel a sticky substance begin to wrap around his wrists. In an instant she grabbed his leg. He tried to scream, but couldn't. He pulled and pulled in attempts to free himself. Her strength tugged him closer to her. He witnessed her mouth fill with blood and it sprayed as she spoke.
"Dillon, you have to know," she said again. Her scabbed over eyes tore open to release brown maggots and thick worms. After they swirled out, he could see into her empty eye sockets. Her eyes were glowing red. "It's all true. Believe me, it is."
It became difficult for him to breath. Harder and harder he pulled. He shut his eyes to wish her away. She shrieked loudly, as he covered his ears. He used his other foot to try to push at her, but she was too strong. He began shaking all over, but could not scream.
He noticed his legs were twisted around the blankets from when his mother tucked him in earlier. His heart was still racing from the nightmare. He noticed it wasn't completely dark outside yet, but still it was like any other night. The terrible horror he endured in his sleep, ever since the passing of his father, was continuing to taunt at him. Every night he awoke in a sweat from those horrible visions. It was the same girl again; the same girl in the pink nightgown, only this time she spoke to him. He had never heard her speak before in the dreams. And each time the visions were growing more vivid.
He could hear mumbling downstairs, from in his room, but he couldn't make out any of the words. He figured more family members were visiting again, just as they have for the past month, since the death of his father.
"How's Dillon doing, Nancy?" said a red-haired lady. She sipped on her cup of coffee.
"Not good Merna. I was thinking about having him speak to a child psychologist if he doesn't improve," she replied.
"That's horrible; such a young boy. I can't fathom what he is going through," Merna said, as she sat the cup on a small table.
"Yes, it certainly has been a difficult time. Ever since Ron passed, Dillon's not been handling it well. It has devastated him," Nancy said.
"I'm sure everything will be fine, honey. Dillon is a remarkable boy." Then Merna rubbed her niece's leg.
Nancy smiled at her. "Thank you, Merna."
A tall, thin gentleman approached the sofa that Nancy and Merna were sharing. He held out his hand in comfort. Nancy took it. "Nancy, my poor Nancy, I can't imagine what you are going through, my poor dear. It just saddens my heart to know Ron is gone. Such a good man he was."
Nancy gave him a sad smile. "Thank you, Michael."
"If you ever need anything, my poor dear, don't hesitate to ask. I'm here for you and Dillon. My, my, that poor boy," Michael said, while he nodded his head from side to side, "that poor little boy."
Michael was Nancy's uncle, but tried his best to replace her father, who passed away a few years ago. He has always annoyed her with his somber attitude toward life. Always having a negative perspective on anything, and when tragedy struck, it gave him more reasons to dramatize. It had been months since she saw him last. He had been too busy with his own affairs to even come to the funeral, and it upset Nancy, but she held her tongue.
"Thank you again for coming. I know it is difficult for you and your business."
"Yes, it is difficult for me, but you're family. I know Dillon's not going to make it with his father gone and all, and that's all right. He wasn't meant to be perfect and to understand how to get on with his life. This is why I am here, the poor boy, he's been so pampered all his life I will help him realize that death is reality and that no one lives forever. I realize he wasn't going to understand from you; it just isn't your nature my poor Nancy," Michael gave a solemn look.
Merna shook her head in amazement. Even though Michael was her brother, she was still amazed at his distant compassion.
Nancy tried to maintain her composure again, but was too furious from his comments. "No disrespect, Michael. And I understand how you want to care for me and Dillon, but I have been raising him for eight years and will continue to do so. And as far as Dillon losing his father, he will recover, I promise you that. So please, don't assume because Ron is dead that Dillon's life is done, because it isn't! He is a strong boy and he will make it, so please get your interpretation of poor Dillon's future in failing out of your head! He and I both will survive! Excuse me!" Then she got up, passed by other members of her family without saying a word, and went into the kitchen.
Michael just stood there for a moment--speechless. He couldn't believe that in his attempts to support her and Dillon that she would react the way she did. Merna looked at him. "Why, Michael? Why do you still continue to astonish us with your ignorance?" Then she got up and followed Nancy into the kitchen.
He continued to stand near the couch in awe. Other family members looked at him, but he simply turned away. He was puzzled by what occurred and clueless of his statements.
Merna noticed Nancy standing next to the sink; she was crying while looking out the window. "Sweetheart, you know how he can be. In his mind, he's just trying to help."
"I know Michael is your brother, but he acts nothing like you. He's so caught up on his money and business to realize it. He thinks that his money can smooth everything over and it can't. He acts like he can replace Ron, but he can't. Dad was different, too. I wish he was still here; he would know what to. Why couldn't Michael be more like him? He wouldn't give the poor ‘ole Dillon treatment, he had a way with . . . I don't know, just handling it right."
"I know, Nancy, I miss him, too. He had a way of handling everything, no matter how traumatic. But he's gone, honey, so you must try and be strong for Dillon. He needs you now."
"You're right, Merna. Thank you for being here for me."
"It will get better, sweetheart. You were right, out there in what you said to Michael; it's gonna take some time." Merna smiled at Nancy. She handed her niece some paper towels to wipe her face.
The family members filed out, as the night moved on. Michael was the first to leave and he never apologized for upsetting Nancy.
"Thank you, Merna. You are so special to me," said Nancy, as Merna stood by the door.
"Sweetie, you can always call me anytime." Then she gave Nancy a hug.
Nancy smiled, as Merna went out the door. She was the last relative to leave.

The daylight shined in Dillon's face, as he rubbed his eyes. He could hear his mother in the kitchen. He went downstairs.
"Good morning, Dillon," Nancy said, as she poured a cup of coffee and a glass of juice for her son, "was it just like the other nights?"
"Yes."
"The girl?"
He sighed. "Yes, but it was different. She spoke to me this time. She's never done that before."
Dillon sat at the kitchen table when his mother placed the orange juice in front of him. "Honey, I think it's best that we speak to someone about this; maybe a professional."
Dillon took a sip of his juice. "It was terrifying. I wanted to scream, but couldn't."
Nancy rubbed his head. "I'm sorry, baby. That's horrible."
"Mom, why do you think I'm dreaming of her?"
Nancy grabbed her cup from the kitchen counter and joined Dillon at the table.
"I think you are going through a mourning period . . . you know, with your father's death. I believe you are not taking it well. I believe your pain is buried deep down inside and hasn't been released yet. You remember how you didn't cry at his funeral?"
"Yes."
"Well, I believe that you can't cope with it right now. Do you understand?"
Dillon shook his head.
"Well, it's kinda like you're in shock or something. Your emotions are trapped, just waiting to get out. It's really difficult for me to explain and this is why we are getting some professional help for you. Some type of child counselor that can assist you with this."
Dillon looked down at his half empty glass. "Do you think they can help? I mean, can they stop the nightmares I am having?"
Nancy smiled, "I hope so, baby."
She got up from the table and placed her coffee cup in the sink. "Okay, Dillon, time to get dressed. We need to get some groceries in the house."
"Okay, Mom," he said, as he downed the rest of his juice. Then he went upstairs.
Nancy grabbed Dillon's glass and placed it with her coffee cup. She pulled down the phone book from the refrigerator.
"Dillon, I want you to take a shower before we leave, okay," Nancy yelled from the kitchen.
There was no answer, but she continued to thumb through the pages.
"Dillon, did you hear me?"
Still nothing.
She stopped looking for a psychologist and approached the stairs. She could hear strange noises coming from Dillon's room.
"Dillon?" she asked, while walking up the steps.
A scratching sound grew stronger, as she got closer to his room. She knocked on his closed door. "Dillon, are you okay in there?"
Again there was no response from Dillon, so she tried to turn the doorknob. The door wouldn't budge. "Dillon, answer me!"
She could hear moaning from the other side of the door. Frantically, she tried to push at the door, to somehow free it open. The scratching was increasing its intensity. Nancy began beating and pounding. Screams filled Dillon's room, but she knew it wasn't coming from him. It sounded like a girl was in agony; like she was being tortured. Harder and harder Nancy slammed her body against the door. "Dillon, open the door, pleeasee!"
She looked around at what she could use to break the door open. There was a small table that was holding a plant in the hallway. She released her grip from the vibrating door and quickly pulled the small table up by one of the legs. She raised the table at the door.
Then suddenly, it was silent. The door had stopped shaking and the moaning sounds had halted. She dropped the table and tried the door. The doorknob rotated and she opened it. She saw Dillon sitting on the floor with blood all over his fingers. He wasn't crying, but sat against the wall motionless.
"Dillon!" Then she ran to him. She joined him on the floor and put her arms around him, as he sat still and continued looking forward. "Dillon, answer me! Are you okay, honey? What happened? Why couldn't you open the door?"
She released her hold on him and looked into his eyes. She noticed him staring straight ahead, at the opposite wall. She turned to see the letters EKIMELCNU were written in red above his bed, and the letters EMDELLIK were written in red underneath.

Dillon and Nancy sat in the waiting room. He glanced down at his bandaged fingers. "Mom, why can't I remember scratching at the walls?"
"That's why we are here, baby, to figure out what is going on."
"I'm scared to see her again."
"I know sweetheart, but we have to try to help you. The doctor won't let anything happen to you, okay." Then she stroked his head.
A brown door opened and a young lady was holding a clipboard. "Dillon Evans."
"Okay, sweetie that's us."
They followed the receptionist into the doctor's office and a middle-aged lady was standing at her desk. It was a beautifully decorated room, which included a large fish tank and expensive furniture. However, there were no windows in the room.
"Hi, my name is Melissa and you must be Dillon," she smiles, while holding out her hand.
"Yes," Dillon replies and shakes her hand. "And this is my mom."
"Hi, Mrs. Evans."
"Nancy. I prefer Nancy."
"Okay, Nancy. Won't you both have a seat?"
Dillon sat on the large leather couch, while Nancy sat near the desk. Melissa joined Dillon on the couch.
"So, how are you doing Dillon? I hear you are having some nightmares at night. Is this true?"
"Yes, about a girl."
"About a girl . . . and what does this girl look like? Can you describe her to me?"
"Well, I can't remember everything, but I remember her tellin' me 'I have to know, I have to know'."
"What do you think she means by that?"
"I don't know."
"Well, that's okay, because what are going to do today is a thing called hypnosis. Do you know what that is?"
"My mom told me a little bit; it's like sleeping and talking."
"Kinda. I will place you in a state of deep relaxation and eventually you will sleep and I will ask you some questions, which will hopefully help you understand the nightmares. Your mother had also told me that you had written some letters on the wall, but don't remember. Hopefully, this will help you recall. Your mother has also told me that your father had died recently."
"Yes, on a business trip."
Nancy interrupted, "My husband died, while his company was making a business deal with my uncle. He owns a company that specializes in speedboats, and Ron sold motors, so he wanted to get in good with my uncle. He died in a car accident on the way back from the trip."
"I see. I'm so sorry," Melissa said.
"It's been difficult, but as you know, more so on Dillon."
"Well, we'll see if we can't try and get rid of those nightmares."
Melissa got up from her seat and retrieved a small medallion from a wooden cabinet that was in the corner of the room. There was a string that had trailed off the piece. She rejoined Dillon on the couch.
"Now Dillon, I want you to lay back and relax. I want you to concentrate on this metal piece I have in my hand. I will go through a series of numbers and when we get to a specific number then you will fall into a trance or, in other words, fall asleep. Then I will ask you a bunch of questions and hopefully this will help stop the nightmares you are having. Okay?"
Dillon nodded his head.
Melissa placed Dillon into a deep trance, as Nancy observed.
Dillon could see the girl at the front door; she was wearing her pink nightgown under her blue bathrobe. Dillon approached the large, two-story house. There was someone talking to her on the porch, but he could only see the back of the person. Then Dillon realized the person was a man; a man dressed in a dress shirt with slacks and a black belt. He was carrying a brown colored briefcase. He started speaking to her.
"Hi, is your mom and dad home?"
"Yes, but they are sleeping. Can I help you?"
Dillon watched for a little while, but he couldn't make out their conversation. Suddenly, the scene changed. Dillon was in a place all too common to him in his nightmares--the woods. He could see the back of the strange man, and begun to smell a familiar scent coming from him. He saw him hovering over the girl. She was unconscious on the ground with blood running from her forehead. He could see from the girl's torn nightgown that she had tried to struggle with him. Then the scene changed again. He could see his father smiling at him from an empty field.
"Dillon, I could see it wasn't right. I knew it wasn't right, and I never meant to hurt you, but it had to stop."
Dillon wanted to hold him, but his dad kept moving further away. "Don't go, Dad! Don't go! I love you," Dillon cried.
He watched, as his dad got in his car. Within seconds his car exploded into flames.
"Dad!" Dillon screamed in horror.
He started to run to the flames, but they dispersed as soon as he reached the spot of the explosion. The scene changed again, and white walls surrounded Dillon. He could hear echoes of the girl screaming in the room. "Please don't! Please don't hurt me! I'm . . . I'm scared," she wailed.
"Where are you?" Dillon answered. "I can't see you."
"The knife, oh, my God the knife hurts so bad!"
"I wanna help you," Dillon said. Although he could not see her, he could hear the knife slicing through her. Blood splattered against the white walls. She shrieked with agony, as each slash penetrated her flesh. Frantically, he spun around the room and began beating on the walls to try to see if there was some way to get out. He heard the sounds of choking and knew it was her. Suddenly, the blood formed the letters EMDELLIKEKIMELCNU and they began dripping down the walls. Dillon tried to scream, but there was no sound coming from his voice. The room started to shake and Dillon simply covered his head. "Please go away! Please go away!" he yelled.
Within an instant, the room stopped rattling. Dillon began to smell a familiar fragrance, and he heard someone speak to him, "Come Dillon, my poor, poor boy. How horrible this must be for you? Give me your hand and I will help you up."
Dillon looked up and noticed a man standing in front of him. "Uncle Mike?"
"Yes, it's me boy. It's always been me. Only no one can know, not even your father could know."
Then he saw the letters in blood had been reversed behind his uncle. They read: UNCLE MIKE KILLED ME.
Dillon looked at his uncle.
"And now you know, boy. Now you know the truth, and you must not tell . . . ever!" Michael screamed. Then he grabbed Dillon by the back of his shirt.
Frantically, Dillon pulled as hard as he could in attempts to get away. He began scratching at the white walls and could hear someone screaming for him.
"Dillon! Dillon can you hear me?"
Suddenly, Dillon opened his eyes and noticed Melissa holding his arms. "Are you okay, Dillon?"
He broke into tears. "I sa . . . sa . . . saw him."
"Saw who, Dillon? Who did you see?" asked Melissa.
"I saw ha . . . ha . . . her," Dillon stuttered.
"Dillon, who are you talking about? The girl, are you talking about the girl?"
"Yes . . . and Uncle Mike."
Nancy's eyes lit up. "Michael? What about him, Dillon?" she asked.
"Ha . . . ha . . . he hurt her. I sa . . . sa . . . saw him kill ha . . . ha . . . her and . . . and Dad. Un . . . uncle Mi . . . Mike killed Dad, too."
Again, Nancy was in shock. Melissa looked over at her, as Dillon sat on the couch crying. "There must be some mistake. I can't believe . . . I mean, I don't understand . . ." Nancy said.
"Mrs. Evans, understand what your son saw may not be true."
"But, it . . . it was real. I . . . I sa . . . sa . . . saw him," Dillon cried.
"Okay, Dillon I need for you to calm down. It is important you calm down," Melissa said, as she put her hands on Dillon's shoulders.
Dillon slowed his crying down and tried to listen to Melissa.
"What you just saw may not have happened. I believe your mind is having a very difficult time coping with your father's passing and somehow you are mixing in family members. Let me ask you, how are you with your uncle? Do you get along with him well or . . . I mean, are you close?"
"I really don't see him that often," Dillon said.
Nancy interrupted. "He comes over on occasion, but it's mainly to drop off a few bucks. He feels that he needs to take over for my father who passed away several years ago. My Aunt Merna is the one who usually visits with us."
"Merna . . . Merna Evans?" Melissa said, surprised. [How could I be so stupid? Why didn't I associate the last name in the beginning?]
"Why, yes, that's my aunt. Do you know her?" Nancy was puzzled.
Melissa didn't respond, but she got up from the couch. She opened a book that was sitting on her desk. "Our session is over for today."
"What! What are you talking about? What about Dillon?" Nancy exclaimed.
"I'm sorry; I will see him again next Thursday at 10:00am, if that is okay with you. We will assess Dillon's problem in greater detail with more sessions." Melissa spoke, placidly.
"It's not okay with me; I want some answers on what is happening with him. I mean, it seems pretty strange that he's explaining to us that my uncle is a murderer."
"As I have stated Mrs. Evans, this is in his mind. He is merely having a difficult time dealing with his father's death."
"That's bullshit! You know more than what you're saying."
Melissa pressed a button that was on her desk. "Mary, please escort Mrs. Evans and Dillon out of my office."
"Why are you doing this to him? What do you know doctor?"
The door to Melissa's office opened and there stood the same young lady who was holding the clipboard earlier.
"Good day, Mrs. Evans." Melissa remained at her desk.
"If you know something more about Merna . . ."
"Good day, Mrs. Evans," Melissa interrupted.
Nancy grabbed Dillon's hand and they both left her office.

"I couldn't understand why she acted so strange when she heard your name," Nancy said, while Merna was holding her hand.
"Maybe, she had got me mixed up with someone else, sweetie. You know how I feel about you and Dillon. I love you both so very much," Merna smiled.
"You're right; maybe she did make a mistake, but what about Michael?"
"Again honey, I know Michael is self-centered, but do you really think he would do something like that? I have to believe what you told me about what the doctor had said; that he is having a hard time dealing with Ron's death. He's still so young and it is so recent. Children have such a difficult time understanding because they never expect a parent to leave them so quickly," Merna smiles again.
Nancy hugged Merna. "I love you so much."
"I love you, too. Everything will work itself out, I promise."
Nancy released her hold on Merna and stood up from the couch they were sharing. "I'm going to check up on Dillon and see how he is doing."
"You go right ahead, sweetie. I will refill our cups of coffee," Merna said, as she grabbed the cups and walked into the kitchen.
Nancy went upstairs to Dillon's door and this time there were no difficulties opening the door.
"Oh, my God," Nancy said, as she put her hands over her mouth. "Merna . . . Merna!"
Merna dropped the cups in the sink and hurried toward the stairs. "Nancy, are you okay? What is it, honey?"
"Come quick, please," Nancy yelled in terror from Dillon's room.
Merna ran up the stairs and entered Dillon's room. She saw her brother standing over Dillon, while he was lying in the bed. She saw a black crucifix in his left hand and a red thick book in his right. He was reading from the book out loud. " . . . and in his significant glory, the power is given upon you to rise, thou new born child. Your blood reigns and shines for eternity in his name and to spread a new generation for what is written."
"Michael, what are you doing?" Nancy screamed. "Merna, stop him!"
Suddenly, Dillon's eyes opened and a black, cold stare was fixed on his mother. "Mom, it's alright now. I can see what Uncle Mike was doing. I'm not scared anymore."
"Isn't it lovely, sweetheart? Your son is a new seed in the glory," smiled Merna. "You see, Dillon has always had a gift; powers that coarse through his body and soul. It wasn't until the death of his mortal father that he would realize, but now he does and isn't it wonderful? He will now have the pleasure of killing in the name of Satan, just as his uncle slaughtered the young virgin for Satan and just as we will continue to sacrifice for the glorious Prince of Darkness. We understand that you were merely a carrier of the new seed, so your work is done. This is how it is written. We will always love you for your work in giving us Dillon, Nancy, but it's time for you to rest. See, I told you everything would work itself out. I love you too much not to keep my promise."
"Noooo!" cried Nancy. "Pleeeaseee, noooo!"
Merna closed the door. Nancy continued to scream, but her son remained calm. Soon, no one would hear her wailing anyway. And as Dillon now saw the vast picture, he realized that, indeed, Uncle Mike had always been a father figure after all.

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Velma golden Sep 10, 2012

Yikes, good story, kept me spellbound, imagine that, should have known Satan had to show his ugly self somewhere, lol just joking, good story enjoyed it. keep up the good work. there is a lot of good authors here, hope you all make it,in the writing world

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