Strangers In The Fireplace - L. Maxwell (book reader for pc .txt) 📗

Christina suddenly awoke to the sound of pouring rain. She forced her eyes open and glanced around her dark, moonlit bedroom at a sluggish pace. The blurred images of her room wobbled as they came at her. She tried to move her body, but to no avail. And by the time she searched the entire room, nobody was there, and she didn't feel anything unusual.

Christina didn't know what woke her so suddenly, or why she couldn't move. She never did. The same scenario repeated itself every Friday morning, at exactly 1:15 a.m. She'd become used to it; she didn't even check the entire place for intruders anymore. And for now, she was happy to let the sound of the rain drift her back to sleep.

“Snikt! Snikt!”

The sounds of swords unsheathing instinctively drew Christina’s eyes to the foot of her bed. The two skeletal figures that stood there in silence seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. The armor that covered their chests, shoulders, elbows, waists and knees, was black. The shields they carried were black as well, and had an unfamiliar symbol at their centers. The pentagram pendants that hung from their necks glowed with an intensity of crimson slightly less than their eyes, and the blades of their swords glared in the moonlight as they held them.

Christina’s calm gaze met their cautious stares as they moved toward her bed. Their armor didn't make a sound, and though nothing moved in slow motion anymore, her eyes were still the only thing she could move. Her neck chilled as cold blades pressed against it with mild force. Her arms were motionless when their hard bones grabbed them and pulled her to her feet. Her legs flinched from a sudden tingle that shot through them, and her mobility returned.

Christina watched the figures glance at each other in confusion. She had always doubted the temporary paralysis was caused by them, but their reactions just now, confirmed it. The one to the left nodded its head while looking to the hallway outside the bedroom. The two of them lowered their swords but kept them at the ready. They marched her through the pitch dark condo and she went along without incident.

Christina wasn't completely sure why she couldn't do anything except follow them. She couldn't even toss her golden blond hair from her face. But part of her knew something was up with the place six months ago, the day she first walked in, so she was starting to put two and two together. She reasoned that her unconscious self already knew what was going on, and for some reason, placed her in a trance, to avoid any interference from her conscious mind.


The skeletal figures stopped in the living room and stared at the fireplace. There was no fire lit at the time, so Christina couldn't guess why they were there. When the crimson of their pendants synced with their eyes, they proceeded forward. She saw only black as they walked her through the solid fireplace and into a wet, dirt tunnel.

While they moved her down the steep pathway at a quickened pace, she briefly examined it. The sounds of the rain, and hard bones treading the floor, filled the tunnel. The smell of rain and dirt hung in the air. The dim light wasn't coming from anywhere she could see and she couldn't explain why it was raining in a ceilinged tunnel.

But that was just fine with Christina. She loved the sound of the rain and how it relaxed her. It brought her back to that early April morning she decided to buy the place. It was perfect, nothing looked or felt out of the ordinary as the salesperson showed her around. A perfect serenity fell across the luxury condo as the rain danced off the Maryland skyscraper. Then, there was the fireplace. She never could put her finger on exactly what was wrong, and two months later, the first of many 1:15 a.m. wake up calls began.

Christina woke to the feeling of being shook with little force. She realized she drifted off to the sound of the rain again. She wasn't surprised at all; it seemed like they’d been walking forever, and there was no end in sight. And since the tunnel had only one way in and out, as far as she could see, she assumed they weren’t just going underground, but under the earth.

She tried moving her mouth to speak, but her unconscious self wouldn't let her. She couldn't even get the sentences to form in her head. The boredom was too much for her, and she began to doze off again. She closed her eyes for only a second, before she was brought to a complete stop.


Christina contemplated whether she was still on earth, as she looked into the rainless room ahead. Unlike the tunnel, this place smelled of death, and stretched about the length of a football field. The many wooden torches that lined to light the rectangular dungeon, clearly revealed the army of skeletal figures that filled it. Every one of them had the same physical description of the ones holding her, six foot stature and all, except for one. He stood in the center of the room while telepathic, deafening praises of him echoed the instant she appeared.

The army immediately stepped aside as their comrades marched her closer to him. He was obviously their leader, and stood with a height of at least six foot six. His armor was a brilliant gold, and unlike his army, he didn't have a shield with him. His crimson pendant was twice the size of the others', and its glow was so intense it cast a shadow on everything within a foot of it.

The room fell silent as he smiled victoriously at the apparent capture of her and closed the gap between them. For a second, everything went black again, and Christina's legs gave out from under her. With a sudden, loud inhale, she blinked her eyes open and steadily regained her balance. Her unconscious self had finally released her from its trance.

“Okay, two things,” she began, with a playful smile, “first, you have got to make the trip to Hell more interesting. I mean no wonder nobody ever visits. And two,” she continued, tossing her flowing hair aside, “who the hell are you?”

The leader narrowed his eyes in curiosity as he spoke to her telepathically. “You don’t know? Well,” he continued, with an easy smile, “it doesn’t really matter, the ritual is almost complete.”

“Aww, good for you,” she gushed, with a slight nod of her head, “But what do you need me for?”

The heavy gasps of the entire skeletal army filled the dungeon when she finished the latter of her sentences. She glanced around to find every eye in the room on her, as if she'd said something wrong. The atmosphere was eerie and everyone stared at her with a malice she didn't understand. In her trance, she didn't feel any emotions, so she hadn't noticed it before.

“You know, you should really get some sunlight down here,” she said, meeting the crimson eyes of the leader, “cause this place, could really bring a person down.”

“Sure,” he said with a laugh, the curiosity fading from his face. “So, you and your unconscious self -”

Christina interrupted him with a sarcastic laugh. “My unconscious self? Yeah, remind me to thank her . . . it . . . me . . . for walking me in the middle of an army of apparent enemies. Although, on the bright side,” she continued, losing the sarcasm, “at least this time . . . I, left me, with plenty of fire power!”

Her arms tensed as the figures clinched them tightly. The glares from their blades let her know their swords were moving closer to her throat. “Fire power? You’re unarmed,” the one to her right said with a smirk.

With an upward thrust, she smashed her elbow into its face. She grabbed the sword as the figure released both it and her arm, from the pain of her hit. With a half circle spin to her right, she sliced its head off and blocked the sword of the other one, just in time. “Yeah, but there are plenty of weapons,” she said, returning the smirk.

The sounds of bone feet closing in were all she heard. With a quick release of her resistance to the sword-lock, the figure leaned, dropping its guard for an instant. She took its head off immediately and positioned the blade just centimeters away from its pendant. The army ceased their advance and the room went silent as the playful air of Christina disappeared.

“I’m guessing these pendants house your souls,” she said, glancing the headless figure to her right as it searched the ground for its head, “Next time, I won’t miss.”


With a calm hand gesture from their leader, everyone withdrew to a five-foot distance. Christina inched her sword from within striking distance of the pendant and scooped the figure's head from the dirt. “Here, now get out of here, and go help your friend,” she said, tossing its skull from the tip of her sword.

“So, you go by Christina now,” the leader said, sliding his golden sword from its identically colored sheath.

“Now?” she asked, narrowing her eyes, “Do I know you?”

“Apparently not, but I know all about you,” he said, trailing his gaze from his sword to her, “And your death, will complete the ritual.”

“What ritu-, wait a second,” she said, raising her eyebrows in excitement, “what do I get when I kill you?”

The skeletal boss smiled as he and Christina swung their swords swiftly. The sound of metal clashing with force rang throughout the dungeon. The army watched carefully, waiting for orders. Christina caught the pleased look on his face as he pushed the sword-lock in his favor. She strategically released her resistance to his sword, making it slide pass her.

“K,” he said, swinging his sword to another deadlock, “You should at least know the name of your killer.”

“Please, defeating a stronger opponent, that’s swordplay 101,” she said through a couple of heavy breaths.

Christina and K continued clashing their swords for minutes, growing tired of getting the same results. With a couple of movie-like maneuvers, their swords fell at their feet. K clenched his fist, kicking his sword out of his reach. “Thank you! It’s much more enjoyable when you physically take a life,” he said, with pure pleasure in his sadistic glare.

She returned his stare in its entirety, as she kicked her sword away. “Yeah? Give it a minute!”

Christina braced her upper body for impact as K’s fist barreled toward her. Her body twitched at the surge of pain that shot through her when his hit connected. Her feet dragged the dirt as the force pushed her backwards. She guessed he broke at least three of her left ribs and bruised the rest.

Her knuckles ached from having just smashed them into his left rib cage. The armor protected their fronts and backs, but not their sides. Pieces of the two ribs she did break fell to the dirt, and shallow cracks lined the few damaged ones. A faint pause let her know he