larshaukeland

01 Introduction

The rain splashed heavily in the city streets, neon lights reflected in the puddles. Some of the backstreets were almost completely covered by darkness, but here and there small lights from houses and appartments lit up small areas of cobblestone. Darkness had fallen, and the cars in the main streets had lights and windshieldwipers on. The streets were almost completely empty for people. In the reflection of a shoplight a dark figure could be seen, running from corner to corner, avoiding the biggest pools of rainwater. It was obviously a man, wearing an old fashioned hat and a long, dark raincoat. His legs were long, and he ran quickly through the backstreets. He rounded a corner and stopped still. What looked like an abandoned factory appeared in the next street, a lonely light that flickered revealed a red door – looking very much like a barn door. The loud noise of splashing rain concealed a sigh from the tall man. Then he picked up the pace again and ran towards the door. Stopping by the huge building, he tried to push the door open. The door was locked! He opened his raincoat and pulled out a sawed off shotgun. The tall man breathed heavily, loaded his gun and kicked the door open.

Inside the building was lots of crates parked all over the place. The downstains hall was huge, and the man was unable to see how far it ran back as it was swimming in darknesss. A light straight ahead revealed a set of stairs going up to the first floor. Holding his gun in front of him, the man slid quickly and silently up the stairs, hoping no one had heard him breaking in the door. At the top of the stairs, there was one corridor leading to the left, and one leading to the right. He could see light under the door at the end of the left corridor. Slowly he sneaked to the end of the hall and kicked up the door. Three men looked up at him as he stormed into the room. He gave a loud cry as he shot the man closest to him. Blood splattered on the wall behind him, and the man fell beackwards. The tall man reloaded and shot man number two. Again blood squirted all over the place. With no time to reload, the tall man attacked the third man with is shotgun, trying to hit him in the head.

“Die, you monsters!” he yelled at the top of his lungs. The third man protected his head by raising his arm and calling out for help. Suddenly a sharp pain hit the back of the tall man. The stabbing pain made him stop, and he started turning around slowly. A fourth man had been in the room that he had not seen, and he had thrown a big, sharp knife into the tall mans back. Two man with automatic rifles came running in the room, fixing their guns on the tall man who fell down to his knees. Another man entered into the room, wearing a dark hooded cassock. He walked up to the tall man. The hooded man had piercing, yellow eyes that seemed to cut into the mind of the tall man. Slowly, the yellow eyed man took the shotgun from the tall man.

“Well!” he smiled crookedly.

“The preacher boy has come to pay us a visit!”

He produced a knife and held it to the tall mans chest.

“I believe you have killed two of my men, preacher boy.”

The tall man spat.

“You killed my wife, you monster! I only wish I could kill you!”

The hooded man chuckled.

“Prepeare to meet your Maker, preacher boy!”

The knife cut slowly into his chest, as if the yellow eyed man was trying to carve out his heart. The yellow eyes cut into him, and he started screaming…

—

Larry Hawkins sat suddenly up in bed. He was still seeing those yellow, evil eyes in front of him. The tall man fell down like a sack of potatoes, and slowly Hawkins vision was fading. On the other side of the bed Catherine, Larry’s wife woke up.

“What is the matter, Larry? Why did you scream?”

She pulled her long, blond hair as Larry was still sitting up in bed just moping towards the darkness. Suddenly he shrugged his shoulders.

“Nothing!” he answered.

“It was just a bad dream! Go back to sleep!”

He pulled away the covers and swung his feet out of bed.

“What are you doing?” Catherine asked half asleep.

“I’m gonna get me a cold drink!” Larry replied.

“Just go back to sleep!”

He leaned over and gave his wife a kiss on the forehead. Then he sneaked out of the bedroom and down to the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of apple juice and sat down by the kitchen table. Thoughtfully, he pulled at his black mustache. He had not seen his friend Tom since Bible college. They had both been ordained at the very same time, but then their paths had seperated. It had been strange to dream about Tom in such a way. Could it be real? Was it a warning of some kind? Part if him said it had only been a dream, but then another part of him argued that the ream had seemed too real to be just a dream.

Larry took swig off the apple juice.

Nah, this was too silly. It was just a dream, for crying out loud…

Larry emptied his glass and went back upstairs where his wife was snoring loudly…

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