Hunted - Jake The Ripper Read online

  An Excerpt from The Curse In The Chest

  ( to be published hopefully before March's end)

  He pounded at the chisel harder than he'd before done. Sweat poured off his face like driblets of water. His wet shirt was lying on the floor, jumbled with the fodder. He paused for a moment, resting the arm holding the chisel on the lid of the chest and bowed his head. A soft chill consumed him. He despaired, hardly knowing why. Was this box that worth it? He was killing himself over what he wasn't sure of. It had become so much of an obsession that he'd found it difficult, even disturbing, focusing on other things. He wanted to really believe mighty good could come off the chest, but what if he was tricking himself. Was it a coincidence his finding the chest at that section of the lake? Did it even contain anything? All you need do is believe.

  Very slowly he gave into his reasoning self. Figuring he just might not get the contents within, he considered the precious stones carved into the chest itself and believed they were worth a mighty much. Too, they wouldn't be so hard to remove. He resolved and pulled his hand off the chest. Only, his hands pulled free, free of both chest and chisel. He stared at the chisel and couldn't believe his eyes. The chisel held fast, suspended in mid-air with a little bit of its blade stuck through the lids of the chest. A feat he'd executed himself to for the past few days. He had pried a hole in! At last!

  'Ha-ha,' he leapt, kicking a pack of fodder out of the way onto a wall. 'Yes!' No! His reasoning self faded behind his victorious feeling. He returned to the box, ever determined to finish off the job. He tried pulling the blade for good measure. It stayed stuck. Satisfied, he pressed his hands, one first then the both of them down on the chisel in an attempt to lift the lid of the chest. The chisel remained rigid. Try as he could, which was a well vigorous attempt too, he found it another stiff task to pry the lids apart. After struggling for a most difficult twenty minutes, he halted. His reasoning self quickly took form in his mind. He shook his head. Why was everything so hard? He wanted to give up. He had to give up. There wasn't any way to sweet talk this thing into spilling. Or is there? He threw a look at the other tools scattered on the table and his look fell on the crowbar. He looked at the handle of the chisel and back to the crowbar and smiled. He picked the crowbar. Its wedge was going to come good. He placed the wedge beneath the chisel's handle, pushing it upwards so the tool would gain a good grip. When he was okay that it did, he pulled the handle of the crowbar downwards, trying to bring the chisel with it. He failed at first as the crowbar fell off its target and went over the sequence. He pulled harder the second time, exerting a tremendous degree of force to it. It held, it held, it held and then caved in.

  He fell. The crowbar spun with a dizzying velocity several times in the air and fell on Roy's face, right on his chisel wound, opening it up once more. He cursed in pain, picked the crowbar and flung it away from him. Something forced itself out of the wooden walls of the shed almost simultaneously. He rose up and found himself in darkness, a darkness he didn't understand. Something scratched the walls from outside. He couldn't see a thing. He groped around hoping his eyes would adjust. They didn't and fear began to work its influence on him. What had he gotten himself to? A piercing cry rang out through the heavy darkness. It rocked the very foundations of the shed, sending a dark chill into him. It sounded bird-ish. It melted almost as suddenly as it had started, into the shadows. The darkness weighted down on him pulling into his mind a flurry of creeps, nightmarish things and filth. He shivered in fear. He had to get out of the dark. He needed to see the noon. He stumbled forward, at least where he thought was forward. Something soft brushed past his foot, something cold and hairy. It had many shapes, the dark and it did not keep a state. Constantly it moved, constantly it instilled a new form. He dropped to his knees. Hopelessness bit at him. He crawled a few steps frontwards. Something tugged at his shorts.

  'Leave me alone!' he despaired.

  Leave you alone? You started this. Wasn't this what you wanted? Wasn't this what you always wanted? Yet the job isn't even finished.

  He was forced down on his belly, his face welted in the scattered hay. His hands shot up in the air seeking redemption. They met claws instead, claws that burned, claws that pulled him and laid him on his back, claws that clamped his throat tightly. Look upon me now! Look upon your persecutor! He struggled weakly against the force hovering him. As he gazed into the dark, he sensed a presence. It was filled with hate. A feeling he knew well enough. It looked down on him, into the crevices of his soul, searching, filling, taking. It engulfed him, slithered in. His soul flailed. He slept.

  Roy woke in a start. He pulled himself out of the rubble. Something swam within him, something like the backwash of catharsis. He felt different, capsulized by freedom. The darkness had dispersed, leaving a still, silent shed. On the desk, the chest rested, an abstract of its former shiny self. It remained shut too. The chisel wasn't anywhere around it. His wound throbbed wildly. The throbbing only gave rise to anger, madness, hatred? Yes! You're getting there! For a few minutes, he tried recalling what had happened. The most he could make of his memory was falling. Something scratched the walls. It was familiar. It moved to the door. It knocked.

  'Dad?' Lucy cooed. 'Is everything okay in there?'

  Dad? Roy fought with himself. His hate began to submerge. Lucy. Briskly, he walked to the door and opened it less than halfway. The evening air slapped him and more of it rushed past him. He reveled in it. He'd never been freer in such a long time.

  'Oh God,' Lucy croaked, 'are you okay, dad?'

  He was drawn to the lithe thing that called him dad. Her voice was beatific. She looked up at him through blue, squeezed eyes, the colour of her skin and shape of her body as that of the temptress. She touched his left cheek, just below his wound. Her touch injected thrills into him. Thrills that seemed alien. He fought with himself again. He struggled until his darkest despairs were forced down. He emerged. He felt her fingers again - soft this time, reassuring.

  'Lucy,' he looked at her. Her face contorted.

  'What happened in there,' she asked. 'I heard noises and here?' she lifted her hand. It held the chisel. Its blade was misshapen, as a contorted leaf. 'It popped out of the walls with force. It got me scared.'

  'Nothing's wrong, dear,' he replied, assuming control over his inhibitions.

  'You've bruised yourself again, dad,' she informed, 'and this?' she lifted the chisel. 'Something's not right in there.'

  He sighed. He didn't want to keep secrets away from his little girl but that box? it was something else. His mind flashed back as he tried to remember what he saw in the darkness when he fell, what he thought he saw. As hard as he tried to think, his memory remained blank, the presence of nonexistence. It nagged at his mind for a few seconds before he shut it off. Things were calmer now and it had to stay that way.

  Lucy was trying her very best to peep through the half-opened doorway. The shed was however still dark enough to hide his 'toy'. He closed the door completely.

  'The only thing not right in here is my belly,' he smiled at her.

  She looked back at him and smiled. 'Fortunately for you, there are cupcakes that need eating. Unfortunately, they will be done in another twenty minutes.'

  'Aw? shucks,' he muttered and laid his arm around her. 'It'll be worth the wait I believe.'

  ~~***~~

  About The Book

  At the time I started this book I was completely bereft of ideas where/what to start on. The only thing I had on my mind was Jake, vampire, survivor and hunted and the only word I had on my script was Jake. And miraculously, towards the end of the year 2011, the other characters and plots, situations and twists just poured into my head that it became difficult sorting them out. I did that however and I amazingly finished the book in three days. I actually planned to publish it on the last day of the year but well, things didn't go my way and I instead had to wait till the new year. So then here it is.

  It's my very first book so I'm actually begging
all of my readers to please review my book, and drop your comments as it'll help me grow and mould me into a better author/writer.

  Thank you very much for your support. It means a mighty lot.

  About The Author

  Tobi is a developing writer currently pursuing a degree in Computer Science. With your reviews he hopes to develop into a better writer. He currently lives in Lagos, Nigeria.

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