Free The Vorbing by Stewart Stafford

and he reckoned she would show him something she had carved in reply.
                  “Look, Vlad,” Ula said pointing at something high in the tree.
    Vlad raised his head slowly and squinted against the strong sunlight. What he saw made him gasp and step backwards. There was somebody up there, but they were not moving. Upon closer inspection, Vlad ascertained that it was a body hanging from the tree.
                  “What’s going on, Ula?” Vlad asked.
                  Ula giggled. “You’ll see,” she said as she skipped away.
                  Vlad’s gaze returned to the body hanging in the tree. Its eyes opened and stared at Vlad, startling him. He got a second fright when he saw his own eyes staring back at him from the tree.
                  “Give up, Ingisbohr,” his evil clone said. “Deadulus is too strong.”
                  “No, No, My God NO!” Vlad said as he stepped back.
                  The thing in the tree laughed evilly as Vlad retreated back inside the house and bolted the door shut. The laughter outside got louder and louder. Vlad covered his ears and screamed to block it out.
                  In an instant, Vlad appeared in an old shack somewhere. It was dark and dusty and smelled of rot. Vlad sat in an old rocking chair with a window behind him. Two dark corners of the room faced him, almost daring him to find their secrets. Vlad stared hard into the corner, but it was too dark to make out anything, although he sensed something there, a presence so powerful it frightened Vlad. He tried and tried to break free of the chair’s grip, but stillness was his only reward. He sat still and tried to breathe. He found it incredibly difficult to get air into his lungs. His heart raced, and Vlad prayed for consciousness to intervene. Movement in the corner brought Vlad’s mind back to the present situation. Two dazzling white lights shone forth from the alcove, like pinpricks in a curtain that blocked out a blinding summer sun. A figure leaned forward, dressed in white robes. Vlad saw a face that was so serene, it put him at ease instantly. Pale eyes met the boy’s stare. They were eyes that conveyed safety.
    “Who are you?” Vlad asked. Somehow, Vlad already knew the answer. “I am the one who died for your sins,” the man replied gently.
    Movement in the other corner drew Vlad’s attention. An insidious atmosphere poured forth from that corner. There was something reptilian about the way the figure moved there. Snorting sounds came at Vlad as sickening moist air smothered his lungs. Every bone in his body alerted him to beware of this figure.
    “What is your name?” Vlad asked.
    “Legion!” the voice boomed, “…for we are many.”
    Two red coals illuminated the darkness around the entity. Vlad recoiled in his seat from the grotesque visage that glared at him with ravenous eyes. The glow faded to reveal two eyes of differing colours, one opaque and one crystal-clear. Staring at those eyes was like looking into the eye of a hurricane. The only information they sought was how much damage they could inflict. The skin was green and cracked. Decay filtered through every pore. Thin, bony fingers with vermicular, floor-length nails gripped the handles of the throne where the being sat.
    Vlad felt the chair levitate beneath him and he drifted across the room. It was movement against his will, but he was grateful to be shifting away from the ambiguous atmosphere that radiated from the two antithetical entities. As he drifted across the darkened room, Vlad felt himself being punched and kicked and bitten. He was unable to look down to see who or what was injuring him, but he heard them cackling and whispering instructions to each other on where to attack him. Excruciating pain rushed through the young man’s body as the vicious attackers continued their relentless assault. The wall of the shack heaved