End Of Days Chapter 2
***Author's Note: This is chapter 2, like the title explains! Check out the previous chapter in my story-list! Thanks!
Heather Morrow had always been different from the other students in her seventh grade class. She chose not to participate in gossip, something all girls her age loved to do. Of course she had crushes and a fair share of girls she hated, but when it came to talking about them like old bats in an elderly home, it irked her. She thought it was childish. She liked the color purple so much that she dyed her hair that color. She loved bugs, especially ants. The fact that they could lift things twenty times their own body weight, and kicked the crap out of anything that threatened their home, through organized numbers amazed her. When school wasn’t in, books kept her occupied for most of the day. An only child, her adventures were right beside “Sherlock Holmes,” “Frankenstein,” or the “Goosebumps” series. They replaced the reality of having few friends.
She awoke later that morning on a pile of books for a pillow. Looking around groggily, she remembered that the night before, she camped out in the backyard of her home. Rays of sunlight poked through the fabric of the small tent, revealing dark stains left by the spilled cans of pop and crushed containers full of chicken bones on the thin cloth she used for a mattress. Pulling down the zipper on the wall in front of her, she climbed out, stretching and feeling the frosty autumn winds creep into her t-shirt, raising goose bumps on her skin. Fastening her robe, she slid open the glass doors leading to the kitchen, a room filled with pots of plants that dangled from the ceiling. Long vines rested on push pins nailed into the walls. Near them hung family pictures stretching from Heather into the living room. Above her and the doors sat a cat-like clock, the timepiece rested between its black paws. As the second hand ticked toward one, its eyes swung from right to left, the tail moving in the opposite direction, reading eight-thirty three. On the stove next to her sat a teapot, white steam rose from the spout while it whistled softly. A plate of bagels lay on a wooden table in front of her along with a mug of tea. So where’s grandma? Her grandmother had always been an early bird and when she was awake, so was Heather. Now she missed the school bus, and was late. Walking was out of the question. Her school was on the other side of town. She only had enough money for one train ride and it took that and a bus in order to make it. Maybe she could get a ride. With that thought, she headed through the living room and up the carpet stairs.
At the end of the hall on the second floor behind her was her grandmother’s room. A large plastic dresser sat in the corner beside her and across from that in another corner, a bed.
“Granny?” she called out. There wasn’t a response.
Joining it was a window, closet and television stand. But still no sign of her grandmother. In the bathroom down the hall, the faucet was left running. The sink below had a small towel floating in cold water. She quickly shut it off and drained it. Taking in a deep breath, she tried to relax while her brain racked itself for an explanation. Maybe she went to the grocery store. If that was true, where was the green sticky note she always left behind? She flew right past the refrigerator a few minutes ago. Deciding to check there, she began her way downstairs until a loud thump from the attic halted her steps. Of course! She forgot all about that. A wave of relief swept over her as she spun around. Alongside the bathroom was another flight of stairs the led to the top floor.
Wrecked electronics and crushed boxes lay scattered all over room, shards of glass and gaping holes littered the dusty wooden floor. Stains of blood were smeared across the windows in front of her at the opposite end, blocking most of the sunlight. Flinching at the chunks of wood that fell from the ceiling behind her, she felt her stomach plunge. Did robbers invade their home while she spent the night outside? While searching through the rubble, her mind began to play ugly scenarios of her grandmother being either kidnapped or dead.
“Where are you?” she called out in frustration. A soft moan responded in the corner across from her next to the window. Lying on top of a broken mirror was her grandmother, clothes torn and soaked in blood from deep cuts and gashes all over her body. Hard clay covered her mouth, binding her wrists and ankles. With a muffled scream and wide eyes, she flailed as her granddaughter rushed to aid her.
“Oh my God, what happened?” she hesitated to touch to her. Snot and spittle rolled down her pale wrinkled face once the sticky clay was peeled the sticky clay from her lips.
“You shouldn’t have come here!” she gasped.
“What are you talking—”
“There’s a monster in here!”
“Let me just help you—”
Her grandmother pointed behind her and let loose a blood curdling scream that cut her sentence short. Crawling along the wall in the corner near the entrance was a giant creature that resembled an alligator, except for an extra pair of claws extending from its side. One leap sent the reptile across the attic, landing on its hind legs in front of them with a dull thud. Sharp spikes sprouted from the end of its tail as it coiled, dragging behind. Scrambling to the wall in fear, they could hear it hiss venomously. Against one another, their bodies trembled. Her grandmother let out short raggedy breaths onto her neck. Heather’s throat was so tight it hurt to swallow. Curling her fingers and toes, they felt like blocks of ice on top of each other. I’m about to die and I haven’t even had my first boyfriend yet, she thought.
Sneakily reaching for a chunk of wood nearby, her grandmother’s bound hands connected and with a wild yell, she hurled the piece at the creature’s head. It staggered back, clutching its face, letting out a terrible howl.
“Run now!” she said, kicking her granddaughter into a pile of boxes a few feet away.
“I’m not leaving you!”
“You’re in seventh grade! You have an entire life to live!” she bellowed. Yellow liquid trickled from the head of the beast and it roared with rage. Crying for her grandmother’s hand, she stretched out her own to pull her to safety.
“Take it!” Heather hollered. The elderly woman slumped onto the wall and refused. A sudden swipe to the girl’s face from the beast’s tail sent her crashing through the attic door and tumbling downstairs into the hall, leaving her unconscious.