Fear

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 The door groaned as Rupert pushed it gently open. The eerie creak sang out into the darkness, foreshadowing what was to come. He called out, “Daniel?”. His apprentice wasn’t usually so hard to find. Rupert groped for the oil lamp that was always positioned on the stout bench next to the fireplace, a deep and foreboding sense washing over him.

This wasn’t like Daniel. He was always in his quarters at this hour, where the two men would meet before heading down to the local public house for a swill of mead. The horses in the stables outside began to whinny, high pitched and deafening. Something was wrong.

As Rupert crept around the corner, a growing sense of dread and repulsion snaking through his veins, had a deep sense of knowing immediately what he would see. Could smell the strong, gag inducing stench of vomit, acidic and nauseating. There lay Daniel, on his back, pale faced with a twisted expression.

Rupert, despite his large size and intimidating physique, wanted to flee. Disgust crept up the back of his neck, his heart began to bound ahead of himself, his thoughts clouded into a cacophony of panic, warped by fear and disbelief. He’d hoped he would be wrong.

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