“SARAH, THEY’RE COMING FOR YOU”
"Oh God, no, please, not again," eight year old Sarah awoke to the buzzer, a warning delivered by the hovering spirits which would soon surround her bed. The revolting sound preceded the terror shattering the peaceful silence during an otherwise uneventful sleep. The child looked over at her sister, sleeping peacefully in the twin bed next to hers, the unconsecrated signal meant just for her. The spirits closed in on her room. She shook with fear under the covers, afraid to breathe...the chanting from the taunting dead always the same: "Sarah, they're coming for you."
Restless spirits of the dead, torment the living for many reasons. But the dark hunters seek one thing. It is not God’s blessing, but a soul for eternity.
For years, Sarah was tormented by these seekers. Each passing year they gained strength. Guided by her great great grandfather Hermann-who intercedes on her behalf-Sarah had faith, but now, she feels her faith in Hermann is slipping, and she grows spiritually weaker.
When a mysterious woman—a link from the past—enlightens Sarah of her journey, every thing falls into place. Sarah has a connection between her ancestral family and her own haunting from the rogue ghosts in the after life. They seek her in order to claim two family members with a single soul.
One thing left to do for Sarah. Go to the family home in
“ERRRRRR,” the noxious sound pierced the fragile veil that exists between the living and the dead. As always, it startled Sarah from her slumber. Habit forced her to turn and look at the digital clock on the nightstand beside her bed. She knew without question even before she saw the hideous red numbers staring back at her that the time would indicate the height of the ‘witching hour’. Fed by a morbid curiosity, she glanced at the face of the clock, having her suspicions confirmed. Each time the psychic buzzer sounded, she hoped the numbers indicating the time on the clock would be different, anything but the dreaded 3:33 a.m.
Sarah knew the sound was within her own head, oblivious to all others. Still, she looked over at Richard in the same way she had long ago glanced at her sister Nancy. “Why can’t anyone else hear it, too?” She silently begged for an answer. Weary from this repugnant routine, Sarah prayed for protection from the inevitable parade of lost souls that would any moment begin their ascent into her bedroom. The intensity of dread that accompanied the gathering of the spirits had not dissipated after all these years. She was rapidly drenched in the cold sweat of primeval fear. Tense muscles began to throb at the back of her neck, accompanied by a terror so strong the blood in her veins literally ran cold, threatening to congeal in its tracks. Her heart palpitated with such force thoughts of an impending heart attack were always in the back of her mind. This is what it must be like to be literally scared to death. She struggled to breathe the air was being sucked out of the room. Heaviness paralyzed her limbs, rendering her unable to move.
The morbid chant began a violent assault to her auditory sense. “Sarah, they are coming for you.” “Sarah, they are coming for YOU.” “Sarah, they are COMING FOR YOU.”
The figures of the pathetic dead began their slow ascent toward the bedroom. She always sensed their arrival some minutes before they could be seen entering the bedroom, as if to further torment her. Although there were no footsteps heard, she was well aware of the slow monotonous lumbering that headed toward her. Their deliberately slow movements mentally tortured her, prolonging their inevitable arrival. The unclean spirits would first be visible as orbs of light. Then appear as shapeless ethereal forms. Once surrounding Sarah’s bed, they materialized into what they looked like while walking the earth as live humans. Their eyes stared blankly in front of them. Their clothing providing her a clue as to when they lived, dressed appropriately for the historical time which they walked the earth as people. Sometimes she would see the same lost souls repeatedly. Sarah saw some spirits just once and never again. She stared with morbid curiosity at all of them. Although this ‘ritual’ had occurred dozens of times to Sarah throughout her life, for her it continued to hold a morbid fascination. She no longer hid under the covers as she did when she was a child. She focused intently as they marched with mechanical precision, taking their places around the bed. The rational part of Sarah was frozen with a primitive fear that hit at the deepest level of the human psyche. She watched the march of the pathetic creatures, frozen in a kind of limbo state not at peace for all eternity. They are the ‘lost souls,’ as she referred to them.