The heat of the fire burned and sweat began to drip down Laura’s face as she stared in horror at the chaos that surrounded her. People ran around Laura; men, woman and children screamed and cried. They were dressed in animal skins and feathers. Their long black hair blew out behind them as they ran around for their lives.
Laura watched as pale men took tomahawks and plunged it deep into the Indians skulls. She wondered what was happening all around her, why she could feel the heat radiating off the burning tents. Laura looked up into the night sky, not one star twinkled back but the moon was full and glowing brightly.
She looked around once again, the Indians tried to run away from the white men that looked like they enjoyed the massacre that they pursued. The killers would laugh as their tomahawks ripped into the dark hair that soon turned red.
Then he caught Laura’s eyes, everything around her seemed frozen as she stared at this one man who stood out against the dark, burning night. He was dressed all in black, including his hat; he looked like a preacher of older times. The man was old but looked quite agile and stood solid as he watched the slaughter, a smile on his worn face.
Laura heard loud chanting that seemed to echo off the mountains that surrounded them, drowning out the screams of the suffering. She looked around and saw high on the mountain another man. The bright moon shined down on him, casting him in a brilliant light.
She saw him clearly, though he was a distance away. He was tall, muscular and his brown skin glistened with sweat. The man wore animal skins and had a tall-feathered headdress; his face painted red and his eyes were as black as the sky. His handsome features distorted with rage and it frightened Laura. She assumed he was the shaman of the slaughtered tribe and that he was the only hope for his people.
The screaming and dying surrounded her but Laura’s attention was to the man on the mountain. He chanted in some unknown language, danced around as he called for the spirits to come and rescue his tribe. The ritual before her eyes mesmerized Laura.
Someone grabbed Laura from behind; she turned and saw a handsome, dark skin man with pleading eyes. Before he could utter a word, the man jerked forward and loosened his grip on Laura’s arm. He fell onto the ground, a tomahawk stuck in his head. Laura looked away; tears glistened in her eyes. She looked back up to the shaman, silently pleaded with him to hurry.
Lightening came down from the sky and struck next to the Indian; he flew back and landed on the hard ground. A shadow came from the ground where the bolt hit the earth. Laura looked to the man on the ground; his face held great fear.
She watched as the shadow moved closer to him, suddenly the black mist engulfed the shaman. The witch doctor’s scream echoed off the surrounding mountains and drowned out the cries of the ones butchered below.
The shadow moved away from its prey and began to float down the mountain, toward her. Laura looked to where the shaman laid and he was gone. Her eyes went back to the black shadow that came closer, until it was right before her. She stepped back but could not look away; it was not just a shadow anymore.
A form began to take shape, although it was not solid. Laura looked into what would be a face and quickly regretted her curiosity. The face was skeletal with pieces of rotted flesh hanging off. It was not human but had the likeness of one. What frightened Laura more was what should have been its eyes; they were dark marble. She saw the surrounding fire reflected in them or was it hell’s fire. Laura felt sick to her stomach and a chill swept throughout her body, she felt her life force drained away. It then turned away and the iciness left her.
The shadowed demon floated toward the preacher man; Laura watched as the darkness entered the man. He shook as if having a seizure and then the preacher looked toward the heavens with a look of pure pleasure on his enlightened face. The preacher was not engulfed as the shaman on the mountain had been. It dawned on her that she had just witnessed the demon enter the preacher.
Laura watched the possessed man, his eyes as black onyx with flames reflected inside, began to walk toward her; his long strides moving ever so close to her while his eyes stared intently into hers. He spoke, it was not loud but spoke softly; Laura heard every word he said clearly.
“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.”
He walked closer towards her, the preacher’s eyes bore into Laura’s very soul; she could not look away.
The preacher man continued to walk toward her and spoke, “he maketh me to lie down in green pastures; he leadeth me beside the still waters.”
They were almost face-to-face, Laura could see his skin flaking; it was rotting right before her eyes.
He continued to walk and speak to Laura, “he restoreth my soul; he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his names sake.”
The preacher stood before her, Laura frozen with fear. She could not run away and could not look away. He smiled as his ebony eyes stared into hers.
“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…”
He grabbed Laura’s shoulders and pulled her toward him, the preacher smelled like a rotted corpse; his eyes flared red.