The Curse In The Chest

By Artie Margrave

Royston Moses has made what he thinks is a magnificent find - a chest, glittering, promising, but completely out of place. He opens it and releases a century-old demon with a sole intent of looking for a pure virgin to breed his Legion. A journeying exorcist, Matthias Williams, is supernaturally directed to stop this menace. Will he succeed? Or will the Legion be birthed?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Artie Margrave
• Release date: Mar 11, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476016382

Artie Margrave

Tobi is a developing writer currently pursuing a degree in Computer Science. With your reviews, he hopes to become a reader's favourite. He currently lives in Lagos, Nigeria.

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THE CURSE IN THE CHEST

By Artie Margrave

The Curse In The Chest

By Artie Margrave

Copyright © 2012 Artie Margrave

Published by Artie Margrave at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition

Front Design by Artie Margrave.

This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. Any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All Rights Reserved

No part of this eBook may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the express written consent of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Warning, Adult Content: This eBook contains explicit use of sex and language and is not intended or suitable for individuals below the age of 18.

Dedicated to Mum and Dad,

Whose Wills have taken me to levels I find very hard to imagine

I love you both

To Falowo Damilare,

I owe you my pen

To Joshua Scribner,

He’s my best author yet

Chapter One

THE darkness was more than paper-thick, gripping and heavy. It however wasn’t as heavy as the metallic box Roy carried towards the chipped desk resting beside the wall at the corner. It was with the utmost difficulty he performed this task, taking in long sighs of deep breaths after every few steps he managed to take comfortably.

The chest rested on his chest and he staggered under its weight, using both of his hands as support from beneath it and licked at the rivulets of salty sweat rolling down his face and past the edge of his lips. He hobbled a few extra steps before gently dropping the chest atop the table with utmost relief. He sighed and used the side of his left index finger to wipe clean his forehead of the salty moisture that stained it.

Satisfied it was properly placed, he hurried to the barn door to place the steel bolt in lock. He didn’t want to risk anyone, even from the house, happening upon his find; at least not yet. Not until he knew the contents being held secret by the metal box. He turned to face it and smiled. The warm notion was quickly dampened by the reflexes of chills that romped with the darkness around him.

I guess it is a little dark in here after all, Roy muttered to himself as he removed a matchbox from the inside of his shorts’ right pocket and lighted a match. He used its dull light to find the lantern before it extinguished and lighted another, using it to guide his way towards the lantern. He lifted the lantern off a rusty pole stuck into the wall for that purpose and walked to the table before the light given by the match extinguished. He lighted another match and a few seconds later, the lantern’s oily flame glowed bright enough to send the darkness creeping off into the far confines of the barn for safety.

And for the first time that night, he truly saw the chest. It had the near-perfect shaping of real pirate treasure chests, sporting a very comely design that splashed golden lights across the barn, even farther than the lantern’s. It had a semi-spherical cover lined around the mouth with what Roy believed to be some sort of special stones, pressed uniquely together.

I haven’t opened you and already I feel blessed, Roy smiled, rubbing his palms over the stones.

You really think so, do you?

All of the edges were coated with burnished metal, different from the chest’s body. He hoisted the lantern above the chest and took a keen survey of all the sides of the box, taking in its marvelous designs. He directly came to the conclusion that it was no ordinary box. He’d seen nothing close to this in his life. He had to open it. He simply had to open it. He looked around the chest’s bespangled metal lips, searching for the lock.

After checking it round five times, he found it impossible to believe it was without lock. There wasn’t a bolt wrought on it, no keyhole, not even a makeshift lever. He even remembered it had no handles to begin with, just clean, bare, stone-designed lip edges. He also studied the stones carefully to observe if they made into any sort of special combination(s). So far there was none he could tell of.

He furrowed his brows tightly. Intelligent pirates, he mocked and he laid his hand on the cover of the chest. Instantly, he felt a chill rush down his spine and settle in his belly. He withdrew his hand and looked at the chest again, slightly releasing his brows.

For the first time since he’d found the chest that afternoon, he felt a stab of fear afflict him, the fear of learning what the chest contained. He wondered if it was a coincidence he’d found it, nestled away among the reeds, in that part of the stream being regularly fished by as inexperienced as toddlers, the part of the stream that was frequented by his fellows, cleverly kept away from prying, wandering eyes. He began to have doubts if the chest was meant to be opened, probably kept where it was kept to stay kept. He wondered if the contents within were…

The lantern light’s glow swept over the chest which reflected a richer glow - using its stones as medium - that flickered across Roy’s face. The flicker anti-dosed his thoughts, made him shake them off. He glared at the glinting stones and shook his head softly.

Besides, I’m here now.

A pirate’s curse can’t kill me, he thought, tugging at the lid a last time in an effort to get it to open.

The night’s chills shuffled around him as he popped out of the barn. Scrumptious smells slithered out of the kitchen windows. Lucy was preparing supper. Roy always loved it when Lucy was preparing dinner. His daughter was going to make the perfect mother, unlike her mother. He let his mind slink back to the chest briefly. He was going to need all the tools he could get.

ROY plucked the crowbar from the large polythene sack and inspected it. It seemed to be in good shape.

And you’re sure it will work?

Satisfied, he dropped it on the table. The dry musky smell of hay filled the shed. It was late afternoon, a very hot and humid one too. The humid air made Roy’s skin feel clammy. The metallic chest had lost a little of its gleam to the darkness of the shed, a darkness the beams of the sun had released from the confines of the shed. It stayed there on the chipped desk, still.

He had found the treasure the day before amongst the stream’s overgrown weeds. The stuff was kept hidden, very well hidden he kept wondering how he’d managed to see it, and why. He’d picked it off the reeds and brought it to his home, keen on finding out what it contained, with a good mind it was something that would never make him want again in his life.

He was pretty sure his finding was only to his knowledge as he briefly inspected the packs of hay he’d piled around the legs of the desk. They looked untouched, exactly the way he’d left them. He’d set them there as a safeguard, to know if anyone had come into the shed when he wasn’t in, probably noticed the chest. There was also the wheelbarrow stopped across the shed’s door. An inch forward or backward was more than enough to make him tilt his eyebrows. But it was okay. There had been no intruder whatsoever.

He pushed his hand into the polythene sack, rummaged through it for a while and withdrew it holding a claw hammer, followed by a thin-lipped chisel, a sharply-bladed try square and some nails. He also plucked a screwdriver from the sack, looked at it, looked at the box and decided he wouldn’t need it and sent it playfully across the shed. Picking the chisel, he set himself to work.

Roy pushed the chisel unto the very thin line where the lips of the chest met. He searched for any gap he hoped he could make use of, from its left end down to the right and back again to the left. The chisel found nothing. Somehow he counted on that. It sent a twinge of perplexity into him however.

Don’t make this any hard on me, he moaned. He picked the claw hammer. Holding the chisel’s blade to a selected spot on the tightened lid, he hammered away. First slowly, and as time began to wear on, he spurred the tempo… until it failed him.

He flung the chisel angrily at the arched cover of the chest and it retaliated. The chisel bounced off the chest, spun and hit him on his face… and stayed there.

Fuck!!! He cursed, briskly brushing the blade of the chisel off the wound it bored just beneath his left eye. It fell forthwith.

Serves you right.

He held his face to hold back the blood, slamming the wooden desk heavily.

Fuck you!! He slammed. He lifted the hammer, dying to strike.

I wouldn’t do that.

He thought otherwise and let it drop noisily on the desk. His shirt was heavily soaked with sweat. The afternoon had warped into early evening. Dull light seeped in through holes in the shut window. His breathing was coming in quick gasps. The wound wasn’t helping. He released the