The Ring Omen
By LMR
Rated R for cruelty to animals and general yuckiness
Horror/Supernatural/Crossover
Spoilers: You must see both The Ring (American, the Japanese will be totally ignored for
the purposes of this story. Sorry, Sadako!) and The Omen (forget about the sequels, everyone else did.).
Summary: "But he doesn't know." "Know what, Samara?". . . "That he'll come for me. He'll realize he needs me. And then. . ." . . . Her smile was colder than her eyes. "Everyone will suffer."
From the eternal sea he rises
Creating armies on either shore
Turning man against his brother
Until man exists no more.
'Prophecy of the Antichrist', Anonymous
Hold on tight, the world is spinning
When it's done, it's just beginning
Sun comes up, we laugh and we cry
Sun goes down, and then we all die
Children's rhyme, origins unknown
Chapter 1: Burning Bush
It was early June, but the air was cool. The sun set over her tree, lighting it up like it was on fire. A crow landed in the branches, cawing loudly in Samara's ear. It irritated her, but in a pleasant way she couldn't explain.
She smiled, an unpleasant sight. Something had just happened, something important. She felt it from miles away, like feeling a ripple when someone else moved in the same water. The crow didn't even need to tell her. The rich air carried palpable vibrations. Her mind was far away from Shelter Mountain. She felt a comforting presence there. Although she couldn't see what was happening, she felt a thrill of something falling, falling, breaking. She liked that. She imagined the knot she saw hard, very hard. Pushed it through her mind. It took a little effort, and when she was done, the image was . . . somewhere, tangible. A recording of what was in her mind.
The moment was shadowed only slightly by a jealousy nagging at her. Why wasn't she there? Why couldn't the breaking be for her? All for him, the voice had said. All for him.
Her mind wandered, and she wasn't paying attention to the bird anymore. It was climbing around on her arms and pecking at her hands. With a swift motion she seemed almost unaware of, she snapped the bird's neck. There. That was for her. All for her.
"Samara!" Anna's horrified voice snapped the girl out of her thoughts. She hadn't noticed her mother coming. "What did you do to that poor bird?"
Samara held it up by the wing. "It broke," she said plainly. She dropped it beside her.
"Samara, I've told you before, other things feel pain. Pain, don't you understand that?" She grabbed her arm, pinched hard and twisted. There was no reaction. "You don't feel that?" She asked, knowing the answer.
"I don't understand. Is it supposed to feel bad?"
"Yes, Samara." She knew this conversation was pointless. "Pain and death are bad, you can't cause them." She wrung her hands on her black dress, nervous and frustrated. She moved cautiously toward the child, ad tentatively touched her shoulder. Samara's eyes shifted toward her. Then she turned swiftly and looked her mother right in the eye.
Anna threw her hands to her temples and let out a low wail. She'd seen a picture behind her eyes. A woman diving off a ledge. A window. The vision was punctuated with a snap that Anna felt within her own neck.