Free The Paupers' Crypt by Ron Ripley Page A
Authors: Ron Ripley
it back viciously, forcing the unwanted and base desire to flee, back into the darker recesses of his heart.
“Oh, he is strong. Far stronger than we knew. Do you think he’ll escape Josephus?”
“No. Oh no. I think dear Brian is in for something far worse than he can imagine.”
“Tell us, Brian, do you think you can defeat Josephus?”
A dark form suddenly filled his mind. Beautiful blue eyes peered out from the shape’s depths and sought to punch through Brian’s thoughts. Hatred poured out of those eyes.
“Yes, you see a glimpse of Josephus. You see your death.”
“Come, Brian, come. You have days of walking left. Let us see what else we can pick from your mind.”
A cold, needle of thought punched into his memories and spiders swarmed out.
Brian nearly staggered under the weight of the recollection.
His grandfather’s garage. On a spring day, looking for old comic books in the rafters. Seeking boxes of his father’s Batman and Superman stories.
Then the spiders.
Spiderlings. Recently hatched and ravenous.
Brian had never seen the web, nor had he spotted the hundreds of small shapes clinging to the rafters. He had crawled shirtless through them towards an old Army footlocker stored in the back. Brian was brave, as much as a ten-year-old could be. He was fearless, focused on the comics. He wanted to read about Lex Luthor and the Joker, Robin and Jimmy Olsen.
And he hadn’t noticed the spiders.
Their webs had wrapped around his flesh, fine strands of silk he had barely felt. He could feel them crawling on his back and shoulders. The faint caresses of hundreds of legs. He had thought it was the heat of the attic, the disagreeable act of sweating.
Then the biting had begun, and he had stopped, surprised.
The pain was nearly instantaneous.
Dozens of bites, scores of them. Hundreds of them.
He had yelled in both shock and horror. He had beaten his shoulders and back and then his neck until his hands ached. Finally, satisfied they had been killed, Brian had fled back the way he had come, only to move into another nest of recently hatched spiders.
Fear had overtaken him, driven him to the edge of awareness and he had fallen out of the garage’s trap door. Four feet down and onto the roof of the 1967 Impala his father had been restoring.
The spiderlings had continued to bite him.
Brian shuddered, came to a brief stop until the memory and the phantom pain of the old bites passed. With a deep breath, he pushed on.
“Let us see what else is there,” the first voice said.
The cold pierced his mind again, and Brian forced himself to walk on.
Chapter 26: Researching, 4:00 PM, May 2 nd , 2016
Jenny’s head hurt.
She sat on the floor in Leo’s old building. Piles of books surrounded her. She had a notebook and a pen. There were only a few sentences jotted down on the open page. Barely a hundred words after hours of research.
Jenny closed her eyes, leaned against the wall and took a long, deep breath.
Shane had left an hour earlier. He had gone back to his house to see if Carl had come up with anything.
With a sigh, Jenny opened her eyes and looked at the last book she had pulled from the shelves. It was short and thin, bound in a beautiful marbled cover. The title was written in gold letters down the spine : The World Behind Ours , by Anonymous.
Leo’s information on the book had been scant. It had held only the title, the unknown author, the date of publication, which was listed as “1932 (?)”, and the single word ‘Behind.’ The word had been underlined several times.
Jenny picked it up, opened the book and began to read,
“ It should come as no surprise to us, when we pause to actually consider the idea, that there is actually more to this world than we can see. The supernatural and the paranormal are often scoffed at by traditional scientists and to those who cling to the narrow boundaries of the scientific principle. There is a large part of the scientific
“Oh, he is strong. Far stronger than we knew. Do you think he’ll escape Josephus?”
“No. Oh no. I think dear Brian is in for something far worse than he can imagine.”
“Tell us, Brian, do you think you can defeat Josephus?”
A dark form suddenly filled his mind. Beautiful blue eyes peered out from the shape’s depths and sought to punch through Brian’s thoughts. Hatred poured out of those eyes.
“Yes, you see a glimpse of Josephus. You see your death.”
“Come, Brian, come. You have days of walking left. Let us see what else we can pick from your mind.”
A cold, needle of thought punched into his memories and spiders swarmed out.
Brian nearly staggered under the weight of the recollection.
His grandfather’s garage. On a spring day, looking for old comic books in the rafters. Seeking boxes of his father’s Batman and Superman stories.
Then the spiders.
Spiderlings. Recently hatched and ravenous.
Brian had never seen the web, nor had he spotted the hundreds of small shapes clinging to the rafters. He had crawled shirtless through them towards an old Army footlocker stored in the back. Brian was brave, as much as a ten-year-old could be. He was fearless, focused on the comics. He wanted to read about Lex Luthor and the Joker, Robin and Jimmy Olsen.
And he hadn’t noticed the spiders.
Their webs had wrapped around his flesh, fine strands of silk he had barely felt. He could feel them crawling on his back and shoulders. The faint caresses of hundreds of legs. He had thought it was the heat of the attic, the disagreeable act of sweating.
Then the biting had begun, and he had stopped, surprised.
The pain was nearly instantaneous.
Dozens of bites, scores of them. Hundreds of them.
He had yelled in both shock and horror. He had beaten his shoulders and back and then his neck until his hands ached. Finally, satisfied they had been killed, Brian had fled back the way he had come, only to move into another nest of recently hatched spiders.
Fear had overtaken him, driven him to the edge of awareness and he had fallen out of the garage’s trap door. Four feet down and onto the roof of the 1967 Impala his father had been restoring.
The spiderlings had continued to bite him.
Brian shuddered, came to a brief stop until the memory and the phantom pain of the old bites passed. With a deep breath, he pushed on.
“Let us see what else is there,” the first voice said.
The cold pierced his mind again, and Brian forced himself to walk on.
Chapter 26: Researching, 4:00 PM, May 2 nd , 2016
Jenny’s head hurt.
She sat on the floor in Leo’s old building. Piles of books surrounded her. She had a notebook and a pen. There were only a few sentences jotted down on the open page. Barely a hundred words after hours of research.
Jenny closed her eyes, leaned against the wall and took a long, deep breath.
Shane had left an hour earlier. He had gone back to his house to see if Carl had come up with anything.
With a sigh, Jenny opened her eyes and looked at the last book she had pulled from the shelves. It was short and thin, bound in a beautiful marbled cover. The title was written in gold letters down the spine : The World Behind Ours , by Anonymous.
Leo’s information on the book had been scant. It had held only the title, the unknown author, the date of publication, which was listed as “1932 (?)”, and the single word ‘Behind.’ The word had been underlined several times.
Jenny picked it up, opened the book and began to read,
“ It should come as no surprise to us, when we pause to actually consider the idea, that there is actually more to this world than we can see. The supernatural and the paranormal are often scoffed at by traditional scientists and to those who cling to the narrow boundaries of the scientific principle. There is a large part of the scientific
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