Baby Of The Dead

Chapter 1

    Present Day. October 22, 2017. Winchester.

A day ago. 

HOOT HOOT

The constant call of the black owl on the zenith branch of the hickory rang through the substratosphere, lending the whooshing winds some rhythm to play upon. 

The thickness of the gloom sweeping past the night, leeched off the writhing body of dark clouds in the sky. A cone-like dark cloud drifted by, and shielded the splattered orange silhouette of the moon staking its lofty claim. The lunar moon!

Few metres away from the thick, dark forest was an assembly of tombstones, a cemetery. And out of the forest crawled a large winged snake, eyes toned red, towards the cemetery. Slithering cum hissing. 

The slithering snake seemed to have a motive as its red eyes sent a one metre shade of red light at its front, leading it to the direction it craved. The scaly but sticky body tossing to'n'fro to dark wants of the eyes. 

Gentle breeze crashed against its hard skin as the wings remained unappealed to and indifferent. 

It slithered past the first tombstone, to the next, then to another, which had a thin rectangular base but a lofty squared stand, painted deep Ash with the inscription, 

LEONARD Jr. WE LOVE YOU.

But the snake kept on wagging in the direction of its vision till it got to a stump. There was a mound of damp soil, shabbily covered. 

One could tell with a first look that the grave was dug in a haste and covered in a haste. For what other definition was there for a mound with a little opening at its side. 

With no dilly dally, the snake tossed its head into the small opening in the mound of earth and began to slid into the pit. And as it forces and squeezes its huge body into the pit, it became smaller and smaller in size to suit the recent position till it lost its wings and was gobbled eventually by the pit. With no trace of it left on the earth. 

Then suddenly, the howling of the winds was birthed as a quick storm gathered out of nowhere, tossing the dirt and twigs into the apt atmosphere, a mystic tune of the past and cry of the present. 

And after seven minutes of ladeda lusts of the wheezing winds and unending storm, the deep of the soil of the mound reacted and there was a great quaking in the mound. 

And gradually, there swelled an opening in the mound. An opening which advocated for the birth of a giant monster. For as the pit opened up, soils were thrown in wild ecstasy into the air, grotesque wonders tuned. 

But in contrast of the great quaking and odds, out of the pit crawled out a cute little baby. Slightly curled jet-black hair, round cheeks and beautiful silver eyes. A baby girl wearing a large orange pumpkin, her chest, down her small thighs. 

She crawled to the side of the pit and giggled, digging her small left hand into the pumpkin and eating from it. She looked 2 or 3 years old. A cute little pie. 

And suddenly, she dug both her small hands into the pumpkin, holding it at two edges and then angrily ripped them off, yelling. And while she did that, her silver eyes turned red but soon retained their former shape. 

Free of the burden, the little pie began to crawl towards the city. And as a snake would wag its body, slithering, so did the baby moved her small waist crawling through dirt and mud and tiles and bricks. 

The street which led to the express road was empty. Why wouldn't it. Twas 10PM at night. Who would walk the path of a cemetery at such hour?

The cawing of the ravens and hooting of owls were beginning to fade as she crawled towards the road. But the mystery was, despite the fact that she had crawled though dirt and mud, her skin was as neat as that of a recently washed baby. 

And she kept crawling, non-stop, giggling and cooing, towards the express road. There was no one to help her, none to stop her. She was an innocent toddler, with no idea of what danger lies ahead. 

And with no one to stop her, she crawled into the bitumen tarred road, cooing and giggling.  Wagging her waist to the tacky glee enveloping her untamed heart as she crawled into the highway.

And far ahead of her, in the highway, was a big truck, in high velocity zooming towards her. The headlights of the truck were bright enough to see lighten the gloom loitering in the dark sky. Yet, the truck driver didn't stop. He kept zooming towards the innocent 2-3 years old. 

"Stop... hey, stop!"

Came a feminine voice from the left side of the highway; the track through which the baby had crawled. A lady with long sleek hair. 

The lady dropped the bag in her hand and made to foolishly run into the way, but the truck was already too close, and --

"Nooo!!!"

The lady screamed, dropping on her knees. Her eyes red from recent tears at the sight. 

But her eyes widened as she looked up. 

The truck was suspended in the air, the little girl screaming, one of her small hands stretched forward. 

"Uh."

She let out the filler as the truck tumbled backwards and crashed heavily, rolling over and over again till it crashed into unusual bits.

The lady gasped, putting both her palms to her mouth. Her eyes bulging at her sockets at the horrific event. But her confusion knew another twist,

"Where's it?"

She stood up, walking into the road without being conscious. 

"It was just here."

She argued, walking to and fro the road. But she searched in vain. 

She hurried to the remains of the truck. All the metals and doors and windows had been crushed by the impact. 

She tried manuevering her way into the driver's seat through the upturned trash of a truck. 

She did try and tossed her into the seat next to the driver's seat, but the driver was no longer there, nor a trace of his corpse. 

"Where did he go too?"

Her heartbeat was accelerating, as she threw her hand into the gloom to feel the seat. And suddenly, there popped up a pair of red eyes from the rear of the inside. 

She flinched and fell on her back. She crawled away and got to her feet as soon as she could.

She made a run for it, screaming. She didn't remember to pick up her bag. 

And she ran away, she could feel something running after her. Chasing her...

But when she took a risk of looking back, there was nothing after her all but gloom and wind. But looking to the front again, she'd feel the presence. 

But how could she keep running forward with her head turned back...