Carpathian 02 - Dark Desire

creeping into her consciousness at all hours. Sometimes she thought she might go mad.

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    Shea approached a rippling stream. Stepping stones, vibrant splashes of color, flat and welcoming, paved her way across the crystal-clear water. The stream was icy cold when she bent to idly trail her fingers in it. The feel was soothing.
    Something compelled her forward. First one foot, then the other. It was madness to go so far from her cabin. She was too many hours without sleep. She even considered she was sleepwalking, she felt so strange. Shea paused near a small clearing and stared up at the starlit sky. She didn't even realize she was moving again until she had crossed the clearing and was in a thick grove of trees. A branch snagged in her hair, forcing her to stop again. Her head felt heavy, her mind clouded. She needed to be somewhere desperately, but she didn't know where. Listening didn't help. With her acute hearing, she would have heard if any person or creature was hurt or in trouble. Shea sniffed the night air. She would probably get lost and be caught out in the open and the sun would fry her. She would deserve it for this stupidity.
    Although she laughed at herself, the feeling was so powerful that Shea walked on, allowing her body to ramble where it wanted to go. An almost nonexistent path, heavily grown over, weaved in and out of brambles and trees. She followed it faithfully, intrigued now, wondering what could draw her away from her research. Woods gave way to a higher meadow. She crossed the open field, and her pace began to pick up as if she had a purpose. At the far end of the meadow, a few scattered trees looked down on the remains of an old building. It had been no small cabin but a good-sized home, now blackened and crumbling, the forest creeping back to take what had once belonged to it.
    She walked along the structure's perimeters, certain something had brought her to this place but unable to identify the reason. It was a place of power, she could feel that, but for what or how to use it, she had no idea. She paced, her body restless, a relentless pressure in her mind, as if she were on the verge of a great discovery. Squatting low, she let her hands run idly through the soil. Once. Twice. Her fingers found timber beneath the dirt. Shea's breath caught in her throat, and her pulse jumped with excitement. She had discovered something important. She was certain of it. Carefully brushing away the topsoil, she uncovered a large door, six feet by four with a solid metal pull. It took all her strength to lift it, and she had to sit still for a few moments to catch her breath and summon the nerve to look into the hole. Rickety steps, rotted and cracked with age, led downward into a large room. A moment of hesitation and Shea went, her body and mind pulling her when her brain wanted to be more cautious.
    The walls of the cellar were constructed of earth and crumbling stone. No one, nothing, had disturbed the place in years. Shea's head went up alertly, eyes scanning the area quickly, senses flaring out, looking for danger. There was nothing. That was the trouble. It was totally silent. Eerily so. No night creatures, no insects. No animal tracks in the dirt. She could not detect so much as a rat scurrying or the shine of a spider's web.
    Her hand of its own accord began to skim along a wall. Nothing. Shea wanted out of there. Some sense of self-preservation urged her to leave. She shook her head, unable to depart even though the place distressed her. For one horrible moment, her imagination overtook her, and she felt something watching her, lying in wait, dark and deadly. It was so real that she nearly ran, but just as she turned, determined to flee while she had the chance, her fingers found more wood beneath the earthen wall.
    Curious, Shea examined the surface. Something had been deliberately covered up here. Age had not mounded the earth this way. Unable to stop herself, she dug away handfuls of soil and loose rock until she uncovered a long strip of rotting wood. Another door? It was at least six feet high, maybe more. She dug in earnest now, carelessly throwing clumps of dirt behind her. Then her fingers brushed something ghastly.
    She recoiled, leaping back as dried little carcasses fell to the ground. Dead rats. Hundreds of withered Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    bodies.