Their voices were as faint as a whisper.
"Peter? What had you done?" my father screamed his eyes looked as wide as wide could get, his skin was the color of what it would be without blood in his veins. He was staring at where I stood on the mountain looking down at them,
He was now before the being that had gained its feet. The body had been lowered to their waists. A larger man walked towards him as he lay there. Drew up knife whose blade looked serpentine like it sank into my father’s chest. Quickly and easily it sank there.
His blood erupted sprouted and gushed from his chest. The humans looked at where he was looking to see me or so I prayed they did not see me. I ran as if the hounds of hell were upon me. I knew I had to elude them from me.
I knew I could not be here, I was still in my father's home not here. Looking around I saw nothing that resembled home.
Dreamt it. I thought that until I looked at where the desk before I had passed out. The desk was not there, there was a hole in the floor,
"I must be asleep? I had to be? Maybe Bennie spiked my drink before I left the bar. The scoundrel. I will clock him, but well! That had to be the answer. I was still in the school library." I pinched myself to wake me up. Only problem was it did not.
"Mind you the school library did not a hole in the floor or gas lanterns did they." I told myself, the place was dark and dank.
Through which was a vortex of swirling mists that seemed to draw one into the vortex. The vortex looked like a hurricane from above.
I threw a book at it. To watch it become torn to pieces, and be sucked into the eye, I tried to crawl away from its grasp, to be out of it. It pulled and yanked me. It damn near picked me up as though I was plaything for a baby.
I dug my hands into the wooden floor, to dig with my very nails to keep from going in.