Hell in Your Hand by Graham Crisp

“Don’t look now, but I think we’re still being followed?” The pair hurried on into the night, the air still, their breath visible in the cold. “It’s that …. Thing …. Ever since you found it we’ve had nothing but trouble, it’s like it’s cursed or something, just get rid.” 

He pulled out the object from his coat pocket; it lit up in the moonlight, a sharp silver beam shone into his face. With a deep sigh and flick of his wrist followed by a deft sideward kick the object disappeared into the undergrowth. 

He looked across to her. “Now what are you going to do?” 

She grabbed his hand, squeezed it and whispered, “Run, very fast, come on quick.” Hand-in-hand the couple disappeared into the darkness. 

5 Years later 

The persistent buzzing emanating from his headphones denoted just one thing…Metal!” 

He furtively glanced over his shoulder, satisfied that none of his fellow detectorists had seen his find, he carefully laid his detector on the grass and slipped a gloved hand into the thicket. Gently digging down he felt a hard solid object. He pulled it from the ground 

and into the sunlight. Smiling, he brushed aside the encrusted soil to reveal a silver coloured case. He estimated it was about four inches square. 

As he carefully cleaned away the dirt from the lid he saw that the top was inscribed “vos autem in inferno.” 

“Ooo”, he muttered under his breath, I’ll have to Google that when I get home.” He slipped the box into his bag and picked up his detector and hurried away. So intent was he on getting back home to examine his find, he didn’t notice the large jet-black black dog emerge from underneath the hedge and follow silently in his footsteps.

Published in Issue #12

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