Enveloped in the arms of Dominic, you approach the archway. He tries to walk under it, but the thorns snag across his skin and in his hair. Not even a yelp rises from him even with cuts and scrapes appearing over his skin.
“You’re bleeding,” you say, trying to dab off a gouge near his rippling pec. While swiping a kleenex over the wound, you bump into a thorn and pluck it free.
Dominic smiles brighter at that and hefts you up in his arms to his face. The kiss bursts through you like a cannon. A hand cups your face, holding you in place, while his lips nibble and ply with yours. It’s the wily tongue you struggle to keep pace with, Dominic playing with wild abandon in your mouth. It’s a game you never want to end.
Lights burst from behind, breaking the man’s concentration. You turn in his arms and shock causes you to slip from his hands to the ground below. You’ve walked into a desolate graveyard.
Fog twirls between gravestones stripped of all markings. They vary in height and color, some small and the color of a dead tooth. Others are massive crosses and splattered with a black oil. Lights flicker from candles placed at the bottom of every gravestone.
But what’s got your spine shaking in terror are the specters rising from their final resting place. See-through skeletons with wisps of cloth billowing between the bones stand up to the sky. Ten to twelve, all varying heights, their translucent skin neon blues and greens stretch and strain their bony arms. Yelping, you try to dash from them, but Dominic stands in the way.
What do the dead want?
You turn to ask the werewolf, when you spy a shadow hulking behind him. Its hand extends, pointing right to your chest. In terror you glance down to find your ribcage has turned translucent and you can watch your own heart beating.
The scream twists in your mouth, ready to launch free. To your left you see the alcove and a back door into the mansion. To your right, the dead rising from their graves.
Where do you flee?
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