Free The Boy in the Cemetery by Sebastian Gregory Page A

crucifix. To Carrie Anne the figure was a shadow against the grey sky. It launched itself into the air, landing on Sarah Miller and knocking her into the ground. The creature resembled a child, no older than thirteen or so, yet it was as far from human as anything could be. Sarah Miller tried in vain to fight the child thing, but its strength, disguised by its size, held her down. Its jaws moved with the speed of a gnawing rat tearing the girl’s neck to shreds at the same time its claw hands moved, a blur digging her body to a hollow. The creature finally stopped its attack when the Miller girl lay still; gurgling wet red bubbles from her wounds.
    It crawled towards Carrie Anne, its head tilted and regarding her with curiosity. Carrie Anne could see it now; it was indeed a child, or at one time would have been. Somewhere in that face, that mass of green rotting flesh and exposed skull, were scraps of blond hair and a single blue eye paired with an empty dried socket. It almost smiled, a torn mouth exposing a dirty bone jaw and rotten teeth. The dead block clicked mouth together as if trying to speak. The only sound was a “gak, gak, gak.” Carrie Anne held her hand out and brushed her fingers against its dry face, before finally the world went black and Carrie Anne closed her eyes.

Chapter Seven
    There was darkness, a cool soothing darkness. A blanket of comfort with no fear of oppression. There was no sound, no sight, no taste, no smell. no touch; there was only the calm of absolute nothing and to Carrie Anne it was pure bliss. But like all things they have to die and Carrie Anne became begrudgingly aware of voices in the distance. They were muffled and confusing and none of the words clear but they were disturbing her desire to be left alone nonetheless. As they grew louder, a light appeared swaying and piercing the darkness. It shone into her vision, blinding her with nothing but painful white. She winced and when she opened her eyes again she was no longer in the shelter of darkness. Carrie Anne had a number of sensations find her all at once. She recognised that she was in a hospital bed in a hospital room. The sterile smell of disinfectant gave it away, as did the sounds of activity from the inevitable corridors There were the standard white walls and sink in the corner of the room, coupled with a blue curtain that a nurse could pull over the bed she lay in. There were the silver metal railings around her bed, keeping her from falling to a white tiled floor. Carrie Anne lifted her arm; it ached from the needle and tube taped in place and feeding into her vein. Her chest felt as if it was gripped in a vice, her mouth felt dry and her head swam dizzyingly and spots danced in front of her eyes. She tried to speak but only managed a dry cough. A familiar sight appeared from a chair in the corner; she almost tripped over the plastic seat in an effort to get to her daughter. She lavished kisses over Carrie Anne’s face, while at the same time laughing and crying and thanking any god who would listen for saving her daughter.
    “I thought I’d lost you,” she wailed.
    “Mum,” Carrie Anne managed to say, “You are crushing me.”
    “Sorry, sorry.” Her mother laughed and stoked her daughter’s head.
    They were both happy for a moment until Carrie Anne noticed her father standing at the end of her bed. Even now Carrie Anne could see in his eyes the disappointment and anger of the attention this would bring others so much closer to his secret. What her father didn’t know was now Carrie Anne had a bigger secret and this would be one she would literally take to her grave.
    “I’ll get the doctor,” he said, irritated, before leaving the room.
    “Do not mind him,” Mother whispered. “He was worried too.” Tears ran down her wrinkled cheeks, her gaunt face seemed even more sunken than ever.
    “We thought you were going to die; it has been four days.”
    “Four days? I have been here for four days?” Carrie