Serial Thriller

Serial Thriller

Let the fun continue.! This is the 79th installment of a continuing fictional story. Before each new segment, the last paragraph from the prior edition will be shown in quotations.
“I was number one. Before me, there had been countless others who had heeded the warning and were free of my fate. To come were 29 others who would join me. When I returned to the coins, there were eight left. It was eerie knowing that hell’s door had just opened for 21 more.”
By C.L. Harmon
As Blaine stumbled back from his memory to the present, his thoughts immediately reached for me. He knew there was no changing the heart or mind of Weathers and that I was the key that Weathers’ evil would use to unlock the destruction that was to come. Although immortality had its advantages, knowing the unknown was not one of them.
Manipulation was the tool that the cursed had to work with when it came to moving people into the dark corners of this realm of existence. He knew this all too well. He knew that Weathers had something on me; something simple, exploitable and probably something I didn’t even know. One thing useful about living so long, is the opportunity to study human behavior and to witness first hand the incredible power of the mind to hide what hurts us. In addition, the curse allowed us to sense the darkness in others. A kindred sense I guess where evil recognizes itself in others…and we cursed were certainly evil.
Weathers knew something or at least he sensed something about Blake, Blaine thought. His next thought was how his mental journey into his past had exhausted him and he was ready to retire for the night. Rest would not be peaceful for him or me, but for very different reasons.
The very fact that he felt dread for what was to come was proof to him that his heart had really changed. Although, he had spent the last few hundred years attempting to gain favor with God, he did not really know until that night that it might be working. All those years of anger and evil had hardened him to the point where he felt nothing for the miseries of humanity. Even through his efforts as a priest and adversary to his brethren, he still had not felt reall hope again since he had been at the monastery. His dread for the coming events though felt like hope. That euphoria kept sleep at bay as he lay in the darkness of his bedroom.
I too experienced excitement that night which kept sleep from overtaking my conscious state. Mine, however, was from the tingling sensation upon my lips from the passionate kiss Sam had given me while spilling my excitement to her about seeing Porter during the eerie visit to the other side. But there was another reason too; one that gave me a sense of uneasiness that I could not understand. I had never felt the way toward anyone else that I did toward Sam. But there was something familiar in those feelings and I didn’t want to know why.
When I was much younger and I would get into trouble, my mother would discipline me and then tell me that I would see what else was going to happen when my father came home. That dread and fear I felt during those hours waiting for him to return home was agony for me and any child I guess in the same situation. The not knowing what he was going to do was the worst feeling I had ever felt until the day I found Porter hanging from that tree.
I had no reason to feel that way now. But I did. It was just an itching in my soul that I did not want to scratch. I felt like I had a cancer that might kill me, but as long as I remained ignorant of it, I was safe from it. The problem, however, was that Weathers knew it was there.