1066 All Stars

'Daddy, daddy!'

'Hmmm?'

'Daddy, jump.'

'Not right now sweetie, daddy's busy.'

His two girls trudged off with their mother, disappointed. Michael didn't notice. He hadn't noticed a lot recently.

'Will you put that thing down and spend some time with your children!' his wife had said. She didn't understand. None of them could understand. He did it all for them. Everything was for them.

Two kids is a big financial responsibility. And Amy couldn't go back to work, she would have to look after the girls. So it was all down to him. Michael had thrown himself into his work, pushing for promotions, working longer hours, always saying yes. When Amy had suggested he ask for a laptop to bring home, she had thought it would ease the pressure. Instead, he found he could now work even longer, staying at the office as long as he always had but now able to work at home too.

And then, six months ago, Amy had fallen pregnant again.

Today, Amy had insisted. 'You need a break,' she had said. 'Come along to the playgroup and spend some time with the girls. You'll have fun.'

The playgroup was set in the assembly hall of the local church. Amy brought the girls every week, a chance to let them loose and spend some time with other mums. And so, here he was. Although he hadn't been able to leave his mobile phone at home. That had drawn a scathing look from Amy in the car but, well, she just didn't understand.

Michael finished the e-mail he had been writing and, with a sense of satisfaction at a job completed, hit send. He tucked the phone back in his pocket (I should really turn it off but I better leave it on, just in case, but I'll put it on silent) and looked around for Amy and the girls. They had gone. Dammit, why couldn't they just wait? Where the hell have they gone?

He heard the sound of children's voices from the main hall to the left. A quick glance at his phone (no messages) and he pulled open the door and stepped through.

Where was everybody?

The hall was completely empty. Toys were strewn across the floor as if left abandoned in the middle of play. Drinks and biscuits had seemingly been dropped and spilt onto the carpet. And it was dark. That didn't make any sense. It had been bright sunshine outside when he came in, the middle of the morning. Now, the hall was shrouded in darkness, the only light provided by a flickering street lamp through the window.

Michael turned and went back into the corridor. Dark. How could that be? Where were all the other parents? He made to open the front door but it was locked, a heavy chain barring his exit, the windows in the door reinforced and unbreakable.

Michael started to laugh. This must all be a dream! He started to relax. A dream! You silly old goose, you've been working too hard. Probably fell asleep in the car! Any minute now Amy will dig you in the ribs to wake you up. Then he heard the scream.

It was an ear piercing, stomach churning sound, a scream of pure terror.

The girls!

The sound had come from the main hall. Quickly, he darted back into the gloomy room, in his haste tripping over a wooden horse, his hands coming down painfully on discarded building blocks. On his hands and knees, he heard the scream again. He scrambled to his feet, following the sound, in his panic failing to register the sound of the key turning in the lock of the door to the hall.

He stumbled forward and found another door, leading to a side room from the main hall. He pushed it open, his eyes scanning the darkness. He groped around the walls for a light switch, flicking the switch eagerly once located. Nothing. The room remained in pitch blackness. Was something moving? He strained his eyes to see, trying to penetrate the inky blackness. Was that a shadow? Or just his imagination?

A sound from the other end of the hall. He darted out of the room, his eyes now adjusting to the gloom, allowing him to skip over the detritus on the floor. At the end of the hall were a pair of double doors. Through the glass of the door, he could see a light, swinging back and forth. He pushed through, just as the sound of smashing glass reached his ears.

He emerged into the back chambers of the church. All the lights had been extinguished, save for a solitary light that swung from the ceiling, providing just enough light for Michael to see the horrors that awaited him. At the end of the room stood Maisy and Susie. Intermittently, as the light swung across them, he could see their faces, frozen in terror. Because of the arc of the light, at first he didn't notice where they were staring. Nor did he notice the cloaked arm, extended across their bodies, the gloved hand gripped around their throats.

Michael made to move towards the girls when his eyes finally fixed on the terror in the room. The light almost seemed to disappear into a void between the girls but as he moved forward, Michael saw the figure. No face was visible, just a black cloak, arms reaching out and holding his girls captive. For the first time, he noticed the stench, a cloying, overpowering smell of death and decay.

Fighting the urge to retch, Michael stepped forward. But as he did so, the fingers around the throats of his girls constricted, their faces turning purple, eyes bulging, arms flailing uselessly in a vain attempt to break free. Michael leapt forward but an invisible force seemed to hold him back. No matter how hard he strained, he could come no nearer, only watch in despair as the life drained out of his children. Then, as he looked on in horror, the gloved hands released. Before the girls now lifeless bodies could hit the floor, the cloaked figure spun, two razor sharp knifes protruding from the sleeves. The corpses were decapitated before they had hit the floor.

Michael sat in stunned disbelief. He tried to cry out but no sound would form. The cloaked figure stood before him, the knifes dripping blood onto the carpet, the macabre scene played out in staccato as the light continued to swing its unnaturally long motion.

As Michael looked on, the cloaked figure swirled, disappearing into a black cloud, drifting through the cracks in the doorway, the swinging light coming to a sudden stop. As if a constricting force had been released, Michael felt himself able to move and he pushed himself up, rushing across to the bodies of his girls. One of the heads had rolled towards the middle of the room and looked up at him, the lifeless eyes forever etched with the unanswered plea for mercy.

Michael felt himself start to stagger and before he knew it, he was bent over double, retching, the smell of his vomit mixing with the putrid smell of death in the air, doubling his nausea, causing him to retch again until nothing was left. Legs shaking, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and pushed himself back to standing. He forced himself to look at the bodies of the girls. His girls. His precious girls. It was only then that he looked at his hands and for the first time saw that he was holding the knives, the blood of his children dripping into a pool at his feet. How could this be?

'Michael?'

He whirled and saw his wife standing in the doorway he came through earlier. He threw the knives to the floor, then watched as her eyes surveyed the room, taking in the scene before her. Watched as her face contorted in horror as she found the bodies of her girls. Watched as her mouth formed words, his mind working in stunned slow motion trying to catch up with events, picking up the sound mid-sentence.

'...killed them. You killed them!' And then she was on him, raining down blows with her fists, his arms instinctively coming up to protect his face, her nails digging into his flesh, fingers ripping at hair, clothing, anything within reach. Reluctantly, he pushed her back but she was on him again in a flash, kicking and biting now. He slapped her, hard, sending her reeling across the room to fall on the floor.

She pushed herself up, pure hatred in her eyes. Who is this woman? She made to start towards him again but then stopped, her head looking down to her stomach. Michael looked on in horror as her stomach started to ripple under her jumper, the skin pushing against the material, stretching out. She looked up at him, the hatred replaced with a bewilderment as her jumper suddenly ripped. A bloody hand reached out of her stomach, through the fabric. Behind it a devil emerged, it's face a mouth of sharp teeth, deformed ears and red eyes, where its nose should have been, just a red slit. Michael watched in horror as the devil inside his wife, the devil child he had helped to create, pulled itself out of the womb, crawling up Amy, who stood rooted to the spot in stunned helplessness.

With a guttural scream, the devil raised its hand, unnaturally sharpened finger nails gleaming in the single light of the room before bringing them down with a sickening squelch, plunging into Amy's eye sockets, pulling they eyes free before rearing back and sinking its sharp fangs into her skull. Michael could only watch as the figure that had been his wife slumped to her knees, blood pouring from the open wounds as the devil child she had carried consumed her.

It was then he felt the cold. A biting cold that seeped into his bones, his breath frosting in front of his eyes. And with it the stench, that smell of fear and death. The cloaked figure emerged from the shadows, as if he had been there all along. The devil child climbed off of the mutilated corpse of what had once been its mother, turning to face Michael, blood dripping off the fangs as he mouth formed a sneer of a smile. Then, it turned, leapt into the air and was consumed under the cloak of the mysterious figure.

Fear had gone now. Michael had seen too much. His family had been desecrated in front of his eyes and he knew he would be next.

'Who are you?' he demanded. 'Why have you done this to my family? They were innocent! The girls were just children!'

The cloaked figure did not move, just emitted a low, rasping noise. Michael strained to hear it, to understand its meaning. Then, realisation came. It was laughter. The cloaked figure was laughing at him.

An almost imperceptible flick of his wrist and suddenly a black hole emerged behind the cloaked figure. He stood unmoved as a void began to suck in the contents of the room. Too late, Michael realised what was happening and desperately tried to cling to something, anything that was fixed to the floor. But the pull was too strong and he was sucked forwards, fingers digging uselessly into the carpet in a final attempt to stop his momentum, pain adding to his desperation as his finger nails lodged into the carpet, pulling away from his skin.

He lost his grip and was pulled inexorably towards the void. But before he could be sucked in, the cloaked figure reached out a hand, placing it on his chest. Michael looked up into the cloak, the face shrouded. Through tears of pain, grief and desperation, he cried, 'who are you?'

The cloaked figure reached back with one gloved hand and pulled the cloak back over his head before releasing his other hand. Michael disappeared into the nothingness of the void, his final conscious thought the face he had seen looking back at him from under the cloak. His own face...

***

He woke with a start and sat bolt upright. A cold sweat had formed, soaking him through. He looked around. Home.

He was sat at the table, his laptop open in front of him, long since entering sleep mode. He looked at the clock. 3am. He had been asleep. It was a dream. Just a horrible dream.

He rushed upstairs and looked into the girls bedroom. They were sleeping peacefully. He moved silently into the room, kissing each of the girls lightly on the forehead. Maisy stirred, opening her eyes briefly, smiling at the sight of daddy before turning and going back to sleep.

He left them and went to his bedroom. Amy was sound asleep, the look on her face one that can only come from complete and utter contentment. He climbed into the bed and gently put his arm around her, encircling his wife and the baby she carried inside her. His baby.

He was woken gently by Amy shaking his shoulder. 'Did you stay up late working again?' she said, her tone reproachful and yet understanding.'

Michael sat up in bed and looked into her eyes. Without saying a word, he cupped her head in his hands and kissed her. When he broke away, he hugged her tightly and whispered into her ear, 'I love you. Never forget, I love you.'

Amy smiled, perplexed but pleased. 'What brought this on?' she asked, smiling.

At last, Michael pulled away. He looked at her thoughtfully. 'I never tell you enough,' he said.

'Okay,' said Amy, more confused than ever. Well Casanova, there is a cup of tea going cold downstairs and the girls want to show you a squirrel they found in the garden.' She kissed him on his forehead before getting up and going downstairs.

Michael lay back in the bed momentarily, taking in everything in his dream. It had been so vivid, so real. It seemed like more than a dream. He closed his eyes briefly then pulled the covers back and climbed out of bed.

He walked to the bathroom and splashed water across his face, massaging his temples to relieve the tension. He raised his head and looked into the bathroom mirror. His heart pounded. What was that? For a moment, he thought he saw something in the mirror. The cloaked figure from his nightmare. But when he blinked it was gone. Fool, it is just your imagination. That really was a vivid dream.

He walked downstairs to find his girls jumping around excitedly. He smiled and stood watching them for a moment before they noticed him.

'Daddy, daddy!' they cried excitedly. 'Come and look. Diddles, garden.' Diddles was the name they gave to the squirrel who climbed the fence in the garden.

Michael smiled as he turned to the table and reached for his laptop. He lifted the lid and switched it on. 'In a minute girls, I just need to...'. He stopped as he saw the face reflected back at him from the screen. This time there was no mistake. The black cloak was set back just far enough that he could make out his own face, distorted, vile but unmistakably him. The colour drained from him, his knees buckled.

And at last he understood.

'Daddy, daddy, come look,' the girls said, beaming at him.

Michael smiled. 'Come on girls, let's go and find Diddles,' he said. And as he closed the laptop, the cloaked figure faded back into nothingness.