Mark Tufo’s Haunted Blog Tour: Guest Post & Giveaway

I gotintimate with quite a few people on the way down to the morgue.  

Unfortunately none of it wasintentional. Some tried to act brave like what we had just witnessed was somesort of elaborate hoax.  The restof us, the ones that wanted to survive we knew better. There was strength innumbers, if even the only true strength was that the odds of any particular one of us being ripped fromthe group was decreased. Other than that I didn’t think any one of us could doanything against the entity that was in there with us.

Goth’shusband was sandwiched between two of the three young men who were keeping himpropped up. His head was lolling about like a broken bobble-head might. He wasconscious but definitely not aware.

“What’s thematter with him?” Goth screamed at me.

“Besidesbeing married to you, I don’t have a clue.” I told her.

She took ina sharp intake of air at my comment.

“Shit did Isay that out loud?” I asked.

I could seeJed’s head nodding.

The man onAlan’s left side, snorted at my reply.

“This funnyfor you?!” Goth ripped into the youth.

“It was.” Hetold her as he hefted a sagging Alan back up.

“Accordingto this map, the morgue should be right there.” Jed said as he pointed hisflashlight about 15 feet down the corridor.

I will swearthat it felt like the hallway was narrowing as we walked, constricting might bea better word. I got the same impression of a light sucking void as I did whenwe had met our harbinger. (Now why did I use that word?) That brought a chillup my spine.

“Jed youneed to find us another way out man.” I told him.

“The pathgoes through the morgue, there’s an exit to the next part of the tour throughthere.” He replied.

“Time to puton my big boy pants. I suppose.” I said aloud.

“Really? Isall the dramatic flair called for?” Goth asked. “Let’s just get this over withso my husband can get some air.”

“Anyvolunteers to open the door?” I asked as we cautiously approached.

“I’ll doit!” Peter said excitedly.

“You’ll dono such thing!” His mother said as she gripped his shirt tighter.

“I got it.”The frat brother that wasn’t carrying Alan volunteered.

He moved afew feet ahead of us. I noted that when his went to touchthe handle a blue arc of electricity jumped from the handle to his hand.

“Fug!” Heyelled (I would imagine he was shooting for a curse word), just as his bodywent completely rigid. We could have laid him on his stomach and used him as asurfboard he was that rigid.

“What’swrong with him?” Pete asked his mother.