Free Darkmoor by Victoria Barry

sarcastically.
    Lingering for a moment, Matthew looked intently into Catherine’s eyes. He felt like it was the first time he’d really looked at her. Catherine’s hazel eyes smiled affectionately towards him, her red hair hung loosely around her face. Overwhelmed with a sense of protection, Matthew muttered under his breath, “Oh Catherine.”
    Matthew turned and stared across the white misty lagoon and the rickety rope bridge draped across it.
    “I’m ready!” Matthew said confidently.
    With their bows and arrows securely fixed across their backs, Sam, Matthew and Catherine cautiously stepped onto the wooden bridge. Matthew muttered under his breath, “Well, this is it!”
    Leading the way was Sam, followed by Matthew and a very loaded up Catherine nervously trudged behind. Her bag was strapped around her waist, her weaponry fastened across her back. Matthew couldn’t help chuckling to himself as she reminded him of the game, Buckaroo!
    “Be careful!” Sam shouted back to Matthew and Catherine, “some of the wooden slats are rotten!”
    Catherine tiptoed behind Matthew copying his every move. Blisters formed on the palms of her hands as she clung tightly to the ropes, but blocking out the pain she steadily proceeded. Underneath them the white mist started to churn.
    Sam boomed, “Don’t look down!”
    “The river of souls?” Catherine asked, “why is it called that?”
    Not hearing Catherine clearly, Sam repeated her words, “I said, don’t look down!”
    The bridge began to creak as a gentle breeze blew across. As they continued further along, the wind grew fiercer and cautiously they took one step at a time.
    Matthew’s heart pounded and thumped, the palms of his hands gathered sweat. Obeying Sam’s instruction not to look down, Matthew fixed his eyes firmly on the other side of the river.
    Suddenly, out of the swirling mist erupted a myriad of screams, shrieking and wailing. Despite the deafening, ear-piercing noises, Catherine couldn’t help but look down.
    Underneath her, floating on top of the river, were four ghostly angels dressed in full length white gowns. Their faces were pure white with long transparent hair floating ruggedly around their tiny heads. The four of them looked up at Catherine, who found herself hypnotised by their graceful angelic smiles. Catherine watched on as the angels performed, like synchronised swimmers diving in and out of the mist. Free of the mist, they arched their backs and gracefully drifted gently back into the river. The painful screeching noises had now stopped, however, the white mist had begun to slowly creep over Catherine’s feet, encircling her.
    Catherine’s eyes grew wider with both excitement and anticipation.
    ‘They’re so beautiful,’ Catherine thought, feeling her hands release from the rope, she knelt down on the wooden bridge.
    Moments later, one of the angels emerged from the mist. The angel grabbed a startled Catherine’s hand and began to forcefully drag Catherine down towards the river.
    Opening her mouth wide, the angel’s face began to change. Her pure angelic eyes turned to a burnt red like fire, her teeth sharpened like daggers, her transparent hair turned as black as night. Then, from between her lips, out darted a lizard like tongue. Jolting her head back, the angel snapped and whipped her bloody tongue around her mouth, stroking her razor sharp teeth. She screamed at the other three angels, who instantly appeared behind her.
    Upon her command, each angel took hold of Catherine. A strange tingling sensation came over Catherine, particularly in her face. Under some sort of spell, Catherine found herself not wanting to fight their persistent power rather, Catherine was happy to embrace them.
    “Catherine! Catherine!”
    Catherine lifted her emotionally drained head up towards the thinning fog. In slow motion, a tall dark figure emerged out the mist. His eyes widened as they focussed upon her. His mouth was moving, but she couldn’t