Excerpt from "The Chosen" by C.A. Milson

In the sleepy little town of Winmont, an ancient evil has awakened, intent on enslaving humanity. The fate of the world is in the hands of one man, but can he overcome the forces that dare to challenge the bloodline of the gods?

Chapter One
As Alex parked his car, he rubbed his hands together and cupped them in front of his mouth. It was a bone-chilling Monday night, and he had a strange feeling something terrible was going to happen inside that conference center. For the past two days and nights, he had been plagued with frightening visions and nightmares. The first time he experienced the series of visions was when he was driving home from the supermarket two days ago, and for that moment when all he could see was the surrounds in the visions he almost lost control of the car and crashed into a tree. The second happened shortly before he went to bed last night, and the third vision was an hour ago.

The visions were almost always the same. Each time, the sky above was covered with a mass of swirling hazy yellow gaseous clouds. The cold steel-like ground was almost covered with an array of blood that formed into a vast pool nearby. He always took a moment to take in the strange and terrifying surroundings, as if expecting to see something new. But nothing ever was. In this place there was a creature, which could only be described as half-human and half-dragon, on each side of its head it had a face, that represented the four corners of the world. Its arms were thick and its claws were long and slender, sharp enough to pierce even the thickest of metals without effort. Strewn around this beast was the multitude of nameless faceless bodies. The air was thick with the stench of rotting flesh and sulfur. Looking around, it was evident that these victims had tried to flee from the beast and failed. There was nothing that this beast had not consumed and destroyed, yet Alex was not among the dead. Standing among this array of death was always a woman, alive, for reasons that he could not comprehend. He would gaze at her flowing long hair, and curled around her scantily clad body were asps, and in her arms she carried a new-born child who seemed to have been born prematurely. In her eyes he could see deception and great fear.

He turned his gaze from the woman to the beast and for a moment felt there was something familiar about this place. He moved closer, stepping over the mutilated bodies, which were sprawled between him and that entity. The beast turned toward him, sneered, and then there was a flash of black light. The vision always ended at that point, and he always emerged from it covered in a cold sweat, his heart pounding.

Alex looked toward the building and then at his dashboard. He had to go inside, this night, above any other. Yet, he sat in his car, hesitating and rubbing his legs together against the cold. Finally, he got out of his black Pontiac Firebird Trans-Am, locked the door, and walked toward the conference center.

What the hell am I doing here? he asked himself. Yet, in the back of his mind he already knew the answer. During the time he had been attending these seminars, he knew that most of what he heard from other researchers and witnesses were well-fabricated hoaxes. If anything was true of supernatural circumstances, it was his own life.

His life was a classic example of one supernatural incident after another. So many things had changed after the deaths not only his fiance, but also his parents. After the death of his fiance, Alison, there were times when he would catch a glimpse of her spirit, either drifting around in his parents home or by her grave site. He had experienced many unusual things, like the time his mothers antique vase flew off the mantle and shattered against the opposite wall.

Alex entered the conference center. He went to Room 4, where the meetings normally took place, and chose a seat in his usual spot, four rows from the back. He sat alone, which was how he preferred it. He was no longer the social type, and quite often crowds caused him to suffer panic attacks. Sometimes, they were mild and bearable, yet, other times, the feeling of anxiety was so overwhelming that he felt like shutting himself away in his apartment where he knew he would be safe. They were always the same, increased heart rate, cold sweats, jittering, nervous speech. but, sitting where he was, he felt safe. Even from his own anxieties.

There was a definite aura in this place tonight. He could feel a strange presence, and the longer he stayed there the stronger the feeling became. Yet, in this room with several dozen people, he seemed to be the only one who sensed it, and for a moment, he asked himself “why me?”

He carefully observed the other people as they came in then turned his gaze to others in this room. Some professed to be sensitive to the spiritual, yet judging by their expressions, it appeared they felt nothing. His inner senses told him that some of these people were here to find someone new to hook up with, nothing more. Some had no interest in the paranormal whatsoever.

He turned his attention to the three men on stage, and in that moment he felt a cold chill sweep over him, and he felt goosebumps cover his arms and legs. He shuddered and glanced around, looking to see if anyone had noticed him, but no one did. He breathed a soft sigh then turned his attention back to the stage and at the three men. He recognized one of them who was the chairman of this society, but the other two men he didn't know. His attention shifted focus on a young woman, probably in her early twenties, as she entered the room and walked on stage, set a pitcher of water and some glasses on the small table in front of the men, and then left. Once she left the room, he turned his gaze back to the stage. One of the three men, who looked like a Native American, drew Alex's attention more than the other two. Again Alex got that same cold chill run through him when he looked at the Native American, and again he looked away. He began to feel very weird sitting here, very uncomfortable. His eyes darted around the room, and the feeling of anxiety started to hit him, just as it did so many times before. The lights seemed to glow brighter and the room felt like it was spinning.

I have to get outta here. He thought to himself, as he motioned to stand, but he did not. It was as though he could not. He was meant to stay here. The feeling of this anxiety was strong, oppressive, overpowering, but there was nothing he could do. He had left his meds at home, and without them, he felt too afraid to get up and leave just in case anyone happened to notice him.

No one noticed, nor did anyone care. He was being paranoid about nothing.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply and focused on his own special place of peace and refuge. Soon, the anxiety subsided and he started to feel more secure about being there. He breathed a sigh of relief and opened his eyes. His eyes darted around and at first glance no one had noticed his panic attack. And that was true to a point. No one at first seemed to notice, but there was one who did notice.

He looked back at the stage, and as before his attention was drawn to the Native American. He did not feel anything peculiar except very weak. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on anything that would divert his attention from where he was.