ONE-HUNDRED AND FIFTY

Thunder rumbled all throughout the house and suddenly, lightning struck right outside of his room.

“Oh, goddess, I hope it doesn’t strike right here.”

The lightning struck right outside his room. It cracked like firecrackers in quick succession.

Archer stopped dead in his tracks, feeling as though he’d seen something horrible.

Then, slowly, he stepped away from the door. He stood staring at the door, feeling uneasy. He didn’t understand why he was so unnerved or what exactly he could sense. His instincts were telling him to run, but he shakes it away, and walked through the door.

What he saw in the hallway shook his core.

Clarissa sat there on the floor in front of the bedroom door with her knees tucked to her chest. Her long red hair fell over her face like silk in a dark waterfall and her eyes were closed shut tightly. A pool of blood dripped from her chest onto the carpet which appeared black in the gloom of the room.

He stood there motionless at the sight of his wife’s lifele