WARNING: The spell in this chapter is not meant to be spoken aloud! Those who do may awaken what should be slumbering!

  Gary, Indiana. 1990

  Tick. Tock.

  The ticking clock echoed through the dim hall, the only sound heard for minutes. The silence stretched forth like a membrane, lasting for what seemed like eternity.

  It was cold in here, too cold for a summer night. Apart from the man who stood in the hall, there seemed to be an additional presence. It was lurking in the shadows, eyes watching with malevolent intent.

  He was old and frail, one who could collapse at any given time. Wearing a black hooded robe, he faced several objects lying in the dim hall.

  A circle drawn with black salt surrounded him, black candles placed at each cardinal point. His pale hands clasped a small mirror, his reflection staring back at him. Its eyes were hollow and soulless, a grotesque smile on its face.

  He gasped, his entire body coated in goosebumps. He should have run, but the ritual was very important. He couldn't stop now even if he wanted to. He had to gain immortality at any cost!

  At his feet was a bag of ash, one obtained from several burned corpses. The air carried its smell—the smell of decay.

  "Asmodee, umbra antiqua," he began the Latin spell, his voice hoarse and bruised. "Audi vocem meam. Ex tenebris et desperatione, descendite in hanc domum."

  He placed the mirror underneath his right armpit, bending to grab the bag of ash with his right hand. Slowly but steadily, he began sprinkling the ash in a spiral till it led to the white circle's center.

  A gust of wind strode into the hall, causing the candles to flicker. Their flames turned pale blue, plunging the hall into an impregnable darkness.

  The man could feel something whispering behind him. It was breathing on his neck, its presence rippling through the hall. He felt his skin crawl, his heart palpitating.

  Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  He was no longer alone. Something was behind him, watching and whispering. It was listening to his spell, waiting for the right moment to bleed into the world.

  He clenched his teeth, placing the mirror at the middle of the ash. His entire body was shuddering by now, but he wasn't deterred.

  "Per ignem et speculum," his voice broke the chilling silence. "Per cinerem et noctem, Adveni nunc, in potentia et virtute."

  The clock stopped ticking instantly. Then, the flames of fire burned brighter than normal. And that was when the corpses were revealed. They were placed in the white circle, five in total.

  The oldest corpse was not older than twelve, while the youngest was just a baby. Their eyes had been dug away, leaving empty sockets which glared back at the man. Numerous symbols were carved deep into the skins of these corpses, revealing bloodied bones beneath. These symbols were the same—an upside down cross with horns behind.

  On a closer look, the limbs of these corpses were severed—one could see the tendons hanging loosely. Their heads were also chopped off, hanging only by bloody meat strands. Their lips were completely carved off, teeth pulled out of their mouths.

  The man's heartbeat became faster. He could now see it clearly; it was standing in the shadows. He could also see the eerie eyes of his reflection gazing back at him from the mirror.

  Gong!

  The city's church bell chimed, breaking the impregnable silence. It had almost lasted for eternity, weighing on the man's heart. Then, the flames receded and became normal.

  "Is that it?" He whispered to himself. "Did the immortality spell succeed? Am I now an immortal?"

  The wind responded, striding through the hall gently. The smell of ash and rot filled the air, becoming more putrid with each second. He could smell the candleflames as well. They emanated a putrid stench as well, as if rotten meat was being burned.

  Something sticky slid across his back, causing him to leap forward instinctively. He turned around, pupils dilated. And then a grave realization gripped his heart.

  All the corpses were gone, vanished into thin air. Except for the fresh blood on the cracked concrete, there was nothing left of the corpses. It seemed as if they had never been there to begin with.

  "It... can't be," he whispered as his legs jellied under him. They gave away, causing him to crash to the floor.

  And that was when he heard it. The giggling, footsteps and crying. One mirage appeared across the hall, causing his eyes to widen. It looked like one of the corpses.

  It stood there, its head bent unnaturally low that its forehead was touching its chest. Its hair was long, swaying down to cover its face completely. A dripping sound could be heard as it giggled in the eerie darkness.

  He watched as it raised its head up, staring at him with its innocent eyes. Then it regarded him with a warm, amiable smile. "Mr. Patrick, you remember me, don't you?"

  He stumbled backward, his breath caught amidst an emotional storm. "This can't be!"

  He had followed the book down to every letter. He had killed all the children. How were they reanimated?

  He should have run long ago. But his limbs failed him in an utter state of shock. He was frozen, the smell of ozone wafting through his nostrils.

  "Mr. Patrick... I want to eat," the child said in a soft voice. It sounded like a lullaby.

  "I want to eat..." it said, its smile becoming wider. "I want to eat you!"

  The next moment, it was no longer there. Then, it was before Patrick. Its beautiful eyes and lips were gone, replaced by gaping eyesockets and a hole.

  "Please—" Its tiny hands grabbed his head, thumbs drilling into his eyes. With a squishing sound, his eyes were squashed into a pulp.

  "Please, stop!" He screamed in agony. He had now been plunged in darkness, a burning feeling spreading through his mangled eyes.

  But the monster didn't listen, just like he hadn't listened to their cries. It began clawing at Patrick, shredding his skin rapidly. Blood and flesh flew into the air, bones peeking through mangled flesh. Patrick was dead and the monster was eating him, silently.

  Tick. Tock.

  The clock continued its duty, indifferent to the man it had just counted down.