Free The Oneiro Rangers: First Night by Erwin Blackthorn Page B

protruded from the gowns collar, a
deep beating sound behind them.
    Glenda hesitated, needing a moment to calm herself. “... Bloody
Mary.”
    Two red dots formed on the mirror beside each other, slowly
growing in size. A thick red liquid bubbled out of the spots, making long
trails that collected down into the sink. More dots appeared, coming out two at
a time–just as the first did–all in a single line. After eight appeared, the
last two started in the very center, side by side. Blackened fingertips inched
their way out from the dots, gradually stretching through.
    Hands started to form, thin bones creeping out of the mirror. The
figure changed from white to dark red; as dark and red as the fluid trickling
down all over its body. Dripping beads of red spread off and crawled up the
mirror, making their way to the ceiling. Slowly, the room was enveloped in the
strange substance, filling the room in a dim red light, like a darkroom. Glenda
was the only thing untouched by the pouring liquid that had enveloped the world
around her.
    She didn’t move. Her lungs fought for air, her chest constricted.
A dry bitter fume engulfed the room, like what one would smell after prying
opening a long buried coffin. Glenda’s stomach turned, still not used to its
noxious odor. She kept her mouth closed, rather smelling it than tasting.
    The entire spirit was out of the mirror, hovering above the
soapstone counter, arms spread low. Glenda could feel cloth brush against her
skin, cold and damp; a sensation toying with her spine. The ground under her
started to go away, an unknown force allowing her to float up slowly. Whatever
pulled her up reclined her back, having her become level with the floor below.
Her twin pony tails shook gently from the unseen force, strands of hair
slipping off her shoulders as she tilted.
    The spirit made little noise, only a small feminine moan escaping
its hollowed-out throat every few seconds. The sound was pleasant, yet
uncomforting, like a beautiful melody played on a melted record. Glenda winced
with each moan, her stomach growing ill each time, tears squeezing their way
through her tightly shut eyelids. She kept her body limp, allowing the
invisible force do its bidding. Lifting Glenda higher, the spirit rose with
her; droplets of red fluid suddenly frozen in midair.
    They floated inches from the ceiling’s limit, Glenda flinching
when they stopped abruptly. The long fabric of the spirit dripped heavily,
sending long strands of stringy red fluid down to the floor, like webbing that
grew with a mind of its own. The spirit's long wet sleeves surrounded Glenda in
a weak hold, bony arms cradling her. Her head rested against a cold and pointed
shoulder, the soft fabric almost hiding the discomfort. The thick fluid it was
covered in sent a strong chill through Glenda’s body, her hair and clothes soaking
it up instantly.
    The spirits white eyes stared down at her, its head tilted in
sadness. So much to say and with no mouth to speak with. So much to do and with
no way to do it in. So much to want and with no way to obtain it. So much time
with Glenda, lost and with no way to reverse it.
    She knew... and so did Glenda.
    Finding the strength in her arms, Glenda stretched them out
towards the spirit. It bent forward, accepting her; Glenda’s arms wrapping
around its crumbling neck. She pressed her face against what little remained of
the spirit’s face — its decomposed skin squishy and moist. The putrid texture
of its opened flesh forced Glenda to cringe in disgust, but she didn’t dare to
push away in the slightest.
    Instead, she embraced it.
    “I miss you so much…” Glenda whispered.
    The side of the spirit’s face was rigid from the broken-off jaw,
Glenda rubbing her forehead into its bare bone. Gloomy grunts echoed over the
sound of constant dripping. A skinless hand brushed at Glenda’s hair, stroking
her soft cheek right after. It bumped over her deep acne scars — visibly hidden
by covering