The Adventures of Gabriel Celtic

The Adventures of Gabriel Celtic

Tuesday, October 27, 2015

Terrifying Tuesday...The Medlevian Protocol

Welcome to another installment of Terrifying Tuesdays! 

Every week I will try to bring you heart-stopping action from some of my works...as well as a few pieces from other authors.

My overriding goal for Terrifying Tuesdays is to get the reader's blood flowing...and their mind working...and their skin tingling...well...you get the point (grin). I will attempt to do this by delving into various genres, including action, mystery, suspense and even horror (Especially around Halloween!).

Today's selection is from my current Work In Progress...The Medlevian Protocol! I can't tell you much about it yet...big secret and all...except to let you in on what I consider a very creepy Prologue! In any case, I hope to have it out around the beginning of next year....and I hope you enjoy it!




The Medlevian Protocol

Prologue

Consciousness returned with explosive pain.
Trying to open his eyes, Carl found that his vision was spinning so badly that he had to quickly close them once again.
What the heck? He thought to himself, trying to fathom what had happened.
Shnk!
The noise stilled him. It was a foreign sound…yet it was one that he felt he should know.
Even stranger, he found that he was holding his breath. Forcing himself to inhale slowly, he immediately felt somewhat better.
Putting his analytical mind into gear, he set about to try and reason out where he was. Eyes still closed to stave off the dizziness, Carl went back in his psyche to the last thing he could remember.
Breakfast!
His mouth turned up into a small smile as he remembered his favorite morning meal of toast and a poached egg…yolk slightly runny…whites firm but not rubbery.
Truth be known, it was the only thing he ever ate for breakfast.
Moving on, he remembered getting ready to leave the house, his insides tensing at the thought.
Leaving the house was not something he did on a whim, so there must have been a compelling reason.
A whispered voice in the background came through the murkiness of his consciousness…only lasting a moment before there was silence again.
Was he hearing things?
Shnk!
There was that peculiar sound again!
What was it that was so familiar about it?
Shaking his head slightly to clear his thoughts, Carl once again tackled the mental exercise of reconstructing his day.
Ok, in his mind he was dressed…now what?
Watching himself like he was in an old movie on TV, he saw himself cross to his chair and pick up his account book, smiling again as the name he used for his heavy, leather notebook entered his thoughts.
The thought pleased him because the book was his anchor to the world around him, a comforting appendage to a body that was less than compelling.
He called it his account book because it was, in essence, an account of his life. His friend Harold Spelling however, would always say Carl called it that for another reason:
“On account of this, and on account of that,” Harold would grin, shaking his head whenever he saw Carl noting something in the book. “On account of you’ve got more stashed in that book than any library in the known world!”
Carl’s thoughts suddenly gelled when his mind latched onto a remembered reality!
He had been going to Harold’s that morning!
That’s why he had been getting ready to leave!
The tenseness that had filled him dissipated. Meeting Harold once or twice a week was the one thing that he always looked forward to!
Just then he heard the whispering again…a soft, melodious voice…and yet at the same time it seemed uncharacteristically…demanding?
Compelled finally to open his eyes, Carl determined to get to the bottom of this whole affair once and for all. Pushing himself up onto his elbows, he glanced around the room in front of him, surprised at the realization that he had already arrived at Harold’s place.
Closing his eyes momentarily to help clear the dizziness, he then reopened them and continued to get his bearings. Grasping the fact that he was for some reason facing away from Harold’s chair, he slowly turned his head and glanced back over his shoulder.
Ice-cold terror shot down his spine when his eyes came to rest on Harold…lying on the floor in a pool of blood!
A man in a dark coat was on his knees astride Harold, holding a knife in a hand poised high over his friend!
With his body suddenly shaking beyond control, Carl watched helplessly as the man quickly plunged the knife into his friend’s body.
Shnk! 


 Copyright J.T. Lewis


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