Vol IX Starter Story
[Dreamless] Did it quite matter to someone that I could not feel a thing? Of course, it did not, why I even bothered thinking about it. What could I do though; trapped in this isolation, desolation, abomination I call my home? Surrounded by the congregation of my split personalities, so damn sick of being alone. However, there was no one to blame for it. It was to be done. The epidemic outside my house was spreading and I did not really have anywhere to run. Still…my head was getting up to me. Speaking and not stopping with its continuous overlapping thoughts about a future, I will not have. Blinded by the sickening need to sleep I was thinking about this life. It felt cold, as if everyone had stopped caring for one another. Locked in their mansions, watching everyone, hoping they cope faster, so they can leave it and go outside. The reason for their hopelessness was that they did not have anything to do. I did, I wanted sleep, yet I was deprived from that blessing from an awful a lot of stressing I could not understand if I even had to. It was scary to think, how many days I did not even try to overcome that thing. Choking me, overlapping my senses into a blur I could not see. Yet felt the strain of insomnia trying to pierce my brain as I tried to lay on my bed, covered with my blanket. Every pore of my body was sweating from the heat. All my hairs stood up from every moment that I tried to breathe. My eyes could not just shut close, and let me finally rest. No, they looked above me, watched the ceiling and its interesting fonts. Gazed at the shadows that formed a cloud that somehow illustrated a figure, watching me too, methodically from the dark. Was that a figure though? Or perhaps, just my imagination running? Of course it was not…it was just something too blurry to even consider scary. -What are you? – I asked, hoping it would reply, to brighten my night. Nevertheless, it did not even move, which proved my point, that there was nothing staring me from the sky. Only pitch darkness, calmly blistering with its perfect shine. -Is there somebody that could help me? Yet again, I pleaded, asking as if there was somebody listening. Nobody stood there…I was all alone. Did my brain not understand that? Did I not make it clear? All I had was misery. All I carried was this need for sleep. My brain was just fooling me that I had company in this lair. No, I did not. I had me, that other dude and that other person I called myself. -Hi…- I greeted and looked at the dude. Somehow, he looked exactly like me, but…I could not put my finger on what he missed. Oh, maybe the gun in his hand, that I did not hold. Or maybe that dark creature behind his shadow. Nah, it was not that. Probably his eyes, they did not match my green orbs. Hmm, strange though, he looked like me, but did not at the same time. -Oh hi there! – replied the other myself, sitting on the right. I was a bit upset that the dude with the pistol did not say anything, but it is fine. -How are you feeling? – I asked the other me that actually spoke. He kind of shrugged his shoulders and chuckled at me. -We are the same person bro, I feel exactly as you do – replied myself, and looked at the pistol holding almost-me, - What’s with him though? It was my turn to shrug not knowing what to say. I hadn’t spoken in four days to anyone, and now that I had myself and me to speak with, I felt so strange. Like, as if I was completely crazy. The past moments that I struggled to cope with seemed like perpetual chains, confining me to a state of not even feeling anything. Though, pushing past that need to sleep I looked further in that thought and found…I wanted to know who I was conversing with. However, I could not disagree that there were not some ripping, in a way lacerations from my memories, because I could not remember for the life of me the past week, nor beyond that. Nevertheless, I think that did not really matter right now. What did, was finding out, who that person that looked like me was. -So…if you want to talk, can you say anything? Who are you? Why do you look like me? – I said, looking at him, looking at me. However, the pistol holding look-a-like me, did not respond to my question, instead pointed the barrel at his temple and smirked…something new. I did not know if that was good or bad, but looking past me, at the creature, the black mass of whatever there was, I saw it speaking into his mind. It was telling him to pull the trigger, and end his suffering, make so that his throes stop, make so that he can finally rest, knowing he didn’t have to get up ever again in his miserable life he lived. For a single moment, the thought of perdition seemed kind of sweet, and in a way tempting, as if I was a young boy again and wanted to take a chocolate bar from the cabinet with all kind of naughty sweets and such. -Will you? – I asked myself, seeing him slowly pushing the trigger. For some reason, at that moment I felt infinitesimal. Why did I bother asking myself if I wanted to die? Of course, I did not. I did not want to see my dark effigy above my tombstone, depicting my gruesome split open head. No! Why would i? I only had to fall asleep! It could work, right? Yes, it was awfully enticing to finally rest in peace, but not forever. -No! Don’t. We don’t want to die, right? –I asked and looked to the right to see if the dude was agreeing with me, but he was dead…no, he had already shot himself when I did not look at his direction. How did I not hear it though? He was right there…My trepidation was slowly growing into fear of me dying here, with nobody not even knowing of it. Moreover because I hadn’t slept. And now… this creature, this malevolent darkness wanted to serve its judgment upon me, and end everything I had worked for. -We will rest! – he said it with a hope, the other me, with such belief of what was to come that it almost made me feel glad we were going to die. -DON’T! – I screamed…but it was all too late. The trigger went fully in, and the bullet exploded from the barrel, penetrating my skull, his skull, our head! A big portion of it flew by the walls and covered it with red. The carpet where the body fell flat bloodied from the gushing warm wound sounded with an echo. That was when I also felt it…a strange mixture of…dizziness, a slow tactical approach of death. The pistol I was holding finally dropped on the ground as I looked at it with confusion and a slight doze of understanding. During the knell happening in my head, I could finally understand that…everything that happened was because of me…because there was not anything to dream about in my sleep that I did not do. There was not a single drop of regret though, seeing as my bodies, dead on the floor looked peaceful in their graceful sleep of eternity. My longing for rest had finally brought me to this end, and I was happy. My body grew inertia and splashed on the wet carpet, colliding with it as if it was concrete. My final thoughts before dying were slipping here and there but I was in way above myself already. I was not alive, yet I was still breathing heavily. The thoughts I strived to escape for such a long time were finally ceasing…and I wanted them to descend. As I was moving upwards, knowing there was going to be quite the stand; I smiled above the clouds, felt relieved and in awe, there was no more pain, no more strains and destructive thoughts in my brain. There was no more terror in my body that couldn’t let me sleep, make some kind of amends. In the end of the night, as I was already dead…I felt peace looking at my dreamless end. [What a Dead Man Says] “Man, that party was wild.” Thought Manson, as he walked blinded by the memories of the past ten minutes. It was true that the aforementioned party was indeed wild, but to what exact extend was it…who knew? Well, in this scenario, as the teenager was walking towards his house, his crazy thoughts knew more descriptive about it…in detail if you may. To begin somewhere, the house in which the jam was hosted looked exactly like the ones we see on TV, where the rich people lived. This one had not two, but three pools, five Jacuzzi’s for some reason, a ton load of toilets, and not to mention, a personal bar for each section of the pools, which in general made it quite the big thing, you know? Now, his thoughts could begin describing the interior of it, but let’s be honest here, he didn’t give two shits about that right now, and probably neither do you. In return, his mind started flashing back pictures of how the long elapsed with differed substance night, went on. Firstly, one of the football guys that were generally automatically invited to it, threw up five times in two of the pools, while on of the cheerleading gals, had…well, intimate things, with that same one guy, in the third pool, while every single one of the guests were watching. It’s to be noted that after that someone, had taken a number two in the third pool, made it extremely difficult for someone like Manson, who kind of wanted to jump in, no to do the whole night. “Oh well” – he thought again, walking aimlessly towards, or perhaps to his house. Why was he taking the long way through the cemetery, who knew? Back to the party though. The pictures in his head started getting more clearer as the moments were kind of crispier and a bit more visual than the rest…not because he was directly involved with them…no, because it happened literally twenty minutes ago. You see, Manson, this poor twenty-something years old boy, was rather…well, lustful for this gal. She was in his math’s class, and in a way, his mind backed him away from asking her out, though, his decision was that when this party starts, he would go to her and make it as clear as day that this night…well, will be magical for both of them. That didn’t go as planned now did it? “I’m such a damn loser…”- His inner voice spoke. He sorta was, the inner voice agreed. But let’s not get this messed up, right. That man, or so he thought had the perfect pick up line for that girl…but, in a way, the booze he had devoured five minutes before asking her out, did its job in completely messing his mojo up. “I would’ve nailed it so hard…and her by the way, but damn…that beer really hit me hard”. So hard, that he took the wrong way back home, taking the “shorter” way through the graveyard. His inner voice continued reminiscing on his failures as his eyes led the way around the muddy holes the ground was covered with. Trying to see the time, he lifted his left wrist and the clock-face showed 04:49 am. -Oh man! Mom is so going to kill me this time! – He exclaimed a bit woken and ordered himself to rush a bit. He just had to cross this yard, then pass the main-road, and head down the little white area he lived with his family. It wouldn’t take him more than twenty minutes, perhaps fifteen if he ran. As his legs began lifting above the mud, he felt as heavy as a car. Now the booze was doing its job well. Not only was he tired as heck, but also he couldn’t even rush when he had to. Good thing it rained yesterday…this mud would be useful for something, but not for him right now. -Damn it! – He cussed and tried to lift himself up from the deeper hole his foot had entered in, when a voice startled him. -Hey there! Need a push? – asked a stranger with a smoker’s voice. Thinking for a second, he was about to refuse when someone else spoke. “Why not, really? You don’t seem to be quite doing well for yourself, trapped in the first pit you see, so I don’t really find it a problem!” – said his inner voice. Sighing he yelled for an approval and waited for his savior. He didn’t wait long as two strong hands grabbed him by the shoulders and lifted him as if he was nothing more than a sack of potatoes. In a moment, he was stuck in the mud, and in another, he was sitting by the parapet of the squared grave. A large tombstone portraying the once living, stood upwards in its stony glory, and watched him. Manson wanted to greet and thank the invisible man that offered him his skills, when his voice came back from behind him. Turning around he faced him…and well, he wasn’t very pleasant to look at. -Say now, what in the devil were you thinking trying to run in that mud, boy? Don’t you see the green grass beside it?! – asked the ugly man, with the raspy-ness of his voice, reaching a peak in its high tone. Now looking back, he honestly didn’t, as you remember, as he did, he watched the mud, not really anywhere else. -Well, apparently not sir, but thanks, I don’t know how much time I would’ve wasted trying to get up if I had fallen - replied the boy and smiled, looking at his face. It was a half-assed smile though, since his face was pretty messed up. You see, for some reason one of his eyes was missing and its place was a pitch-black orbit of nothingness. The part where the nose used to be was now exposed, to the point where you could see the bare bone of its structure. His skin was strange as well, a murky brown font to it, as if he was smoking for years and years. The teeth, or what was left of them, some bright yellow tingling shapes resembling something like teeth, happily moved in their place as his mouth was strangely cracking as he spoke. Manson pinned all those strange shapes to his face at the beer, as his head was already spinning a lot from it. -Don’t mention it kid! Just be careful where you step on, next time…- he nodded, with his barely visible mane moving away to show a gruesome wound on this crown. Manson’s eyes expanded for a second, just to focus if what he was looking at was real. -Man, you seem quite hurt, are you alright?! – He asked a bit shocked. The stranger waved away with his hand and spat on the ground choking on his saliva. -I’m good- ughh…, - don’t worry, I’ve been this way for quite the time now! – He explained. Manson was a bit relieved to hear than, thinking the man was seriously hurt. The words that came out of him though, reassured him that beer could turn the ugliest thing to the prettiest and vice-versa. -The name is Manson by the way, again, thanks for the help, but I really have to go – he said while handing his palm for a handshake. The old timer shook it a bit slowly and replied: -Simon Kolson, pleasure, and didn’t I told you to knock it off?! Where ya’ heading to anyway though… - he asked, making sure to intrigue the boy in a way. -Uh, well, I was rushing home since I was being way too late! – replied the boy and attempted to stand, just as Simon spoke yet again. -Must’ve been some hell of a party eh?! – asked the old wounded man yet again. “Lucky guess”, thought the inner voice of the young one. -Well, yea, uh, don’t get me started on it! – replied Manson and started explaining all the wild things his memories went through just moments before that. It took some time to stutter out some words as the beer was playing with his tongue, but in the end, he had explained everything to him, without him asking to do so. -Ya’ gotta’ be shittin’ me?! The football star took a dump in the pool after boning the cheerleading chick?! What a freaking legend, that man! – erupted Simon, laughing as his yellow teeth dangerously shoke. Manson nodded repeatedly, showing he wasn’t kidding around. -The worst part though…that guy that did it, kind of in a way, ruined my chances with this girl I wanted to be with…- continued the boy a bit upset. Simon immediately stopped joking around and looked intrigued…as much as he could with that strange face. -What do you mean? Did he do something? – asked the elder, looking at him with his only eye, which was purulent. Manson chuckled and shook his head. -No, it wasn’t that sort of thing. He was responsible for the thing that came out my mind, because when I went to the girl and attempted to say my catch phrase, the way I had performed in my head for a week. Something different came out, resulted by the beer and that football guy, and…well im here now, in a way rejected forever – dramatically explained the boy, placing his hands on his face to feel comfort. Simon laughed a bit but then smacked his back and told him to cheer up. -Okay, I maybe able to help you out, but first, you need to tell me exactly how, and what you told her! -Wait now?! – asked Manson amazed at the preposition. -Yes! Now! – frustrated responded the elder. A bit embarrassed he started remembering the key fragments to that scene, and once he found all the details he started explaining. -Well, Jerry a pal of mine, told me they were serving whiskey on our bar, so I took two shots, for her, and me and went there, on the side of the backhouse, next to the first pool in which was thrown up in, and headed towards her booth. I saw that she was texting someone on her phone so I waited until she was done, but I made the mistake to look back at the pool. She then turned her attention to me, and expecting some sort of starting words she looked at me. Completely forgetting what I planned to say I told her: “Hey baby girl, you look like the barf in the pool on a sunny day!” To this, Simon nearly died out of laughter. Like, he wheezed so hard he nearly choked on his saliva again. Manson stood there like a fool and waited, feeling even more of a joke than before. -So…. ughhhh…- said Simon, attempting to breathe somehow, - you told her that exact phrase…? The kid nodded his head, and the elder again exploded in his endless joy. It was getting on his nerves that he was making fun of him, so he tried to interrupt. -Okay, okay, you had your fun, now tell me! How can you help me fix this?! – asked the boy a bit agitated. Simon however waved his hand as if saying, “no chance”. -There’s no fixing this sort of mess, man! – said the man mid laughter and left him there. Feeling hopeless, like a joke and miserable, Manson took a few steps away from the grave, when he heard a more feminine voice. -Hey there, Manson was it? I can help you, not like that joker over there! – said a woman, that almost came out of nowhere. Turning towards the source of it, he saw a ghastly figure, not that far from where he was sitting at. Beautiful, pale and shimmering, she stood there under the light of the moon and looked as fantastic as the eyes can see. Manson approached her and waited for her response. -For me to help you out - she started, seductive placing a finger on his chest… - you need to tell me, what was your phrase going to be? The boy however was enchanted by her look so much he nearly forgot how to speak. Her deep purple eyes looked like gems. Those slim yet juicy lips, colored in red spoke volumes of how they wanted to be cherished. The thing that grabbed his attention was her ravenous hair, sparkling in this night, making his misery into a fantastic delight. -Well? – She repeated, leaning in closer towards his face. Swallowing the spit in his mouth, he gulped it up as if taking in a lump and finally said: -Well, it was supposed to be like this…” Hey baby girl, you look like the flowers in my garden on a sunny day…amazing!” – He finished and watched for a reaction. The eyebrows of the unknown woman that was making him feel nervous in all ways imaginable kind of raised for a second, and then she smirked, cat-like. -You know what I would do if you told me that, instead of her? – She asked, and got even closer towards him. Without waiting for a reply, she pushed her lips further into his and collided into a kiss that made the boy so happy he forgot he was drunk. That part…well, wasn’t that good. You see, when he was drunk, he believed it was the beverage playing tricks on him, making so that this ugly dude be even uglier, and this woman, well, amazing. Now that he was sober though, it was different. As they were tongue twisting each other, he opened his eyes, which were instantaneously closed, and saw…what probably ruined his night forever. Her pale-ish skin wasn’t just that of an imagination, as it was all covered in gruesome dark veins that protruded above it, moving bellow it as a snake. Her eyes, a moment ago purple, were now gone completely, with maggots replacing them. Manson wanted to back away but her tongue had already entangled onto his, and was pulling it out of his body. His screams of horror were muffled since he couldn’t properly do it, and pulling away from her wasn’t that big of a bright idea, because he could tear his tongue that way. That didn’t stop her though, as she pulled her heads backwards, trying to rip it out of his hyoid bone. Manson wanted nothing more than to go back home, but ended up kissing someone he didn’t even knew. That costed him…his life. The undead woman finally turned her head viciously tearing the muscle out of his mouth, and giving freedom to his blood. Manson choke on it, as he was losing all of it…and in moments, was dead. The woman wiped out the blood of her face and chuckled. -Poor boy…you know what dead people say at this situation? Nothing. Dead men don’t say anything. [Enter the Game] I don’t know why it was there, but it was. Not to brag, but it was there. Ever since we arrived at the place, as we had moved away from town in this old and dusty house, pretty much all the left out junk from the previous owner was still here. Apparently, he lived in this big cottage twenty years ago. About “it”, by the way, I was referring to the old computer at the attic, stored in the far right corner on top of a wooden desk, apposite to the bed on the left. Who knew that even then, people had computers to work with? It wasn’t something fancy in any ways. It was an old Hewlett Packard or HP for short, which didn’t have quite the power nowadays PC’s do. Evidently though, that was the first thing I saw when I entered my new room, which was going to be the attic for some apparent reason. Old or not, I was going to use it, since…well I really didn’t have any other option, until our stuff arrived. Pushing the start button on the case of the machine I waited for the iconic “American Megatrends” logo to appear, for all the components to be listed and finally for the OS to boot. It ran with an old version of Windows XP Professional, and it had the power to probably write docs, mainly office work, not for gaming in the slightest. However, being me in my thirteens at the time, I really enjoyed playing games, and wanted to see if this thing could run something. That would be hard, considering the huge one gig of RAM it possessed, combined with the Intel Pentium 4, which carried the “massive” 1.30GHz wasn’t that much. That was all shown during the listing of the components bit, and I waited for the XP logo to stop shimmering and finally let me test out the speed of the darn thing. Leaning on the already uncomfortable chair I saw how the greeting “Welcome” appear behind a light-blue background, with the cheerful, ~TUN TUN TUN, TUN TUN~ melody following along. I noted in my head to ask my father for a more comfy chair later, and placed my right hand on the kind of yellow looking mouse that still had a ball on its bottom. It was called “trackball” not sure about that, but it moved slower than my dog when he has taken pain pills. My dad told me that they had to clean those balls at his age, which to me, sounded quite strange, but seeing it move so retarded-ly, I get why. Now, as the OS was running, the green field with the strictly mowed grass, overshined by the blue sky appeared on the 15-inch screen that the monitor had and then flashed for a second to show five icons on the desktop. They were aligned on a vertical line, from the top to bottom, Computer, Control Panel, User Files, Networks and Recycle Bin. Not a single thing more, or less. “Could there be any games?” – I thought looking through the generic card ones that were preinstalled with the OS. There weren’t. Bummer. -Hey chief! Mind lending a hand?! – Resounded the voice of my father from somewhere down the house. Well I didn’t mind, but I wanted to see for sure that there weren’t any sort of missing links to a game, maybe something like “Super Mario Bros.” or something like a ported “Sonic the Hedgehog 2” but sadly, there wasn’t a single trace of a game. Clicking on the “x”, I closed all the opened tabs and returned to the desktop. Rotating the cursor on the screen like a maniac I was about to give up when I noticed something. The Recycle Bin was filled with something. I don’t know why I didn’t see it earlier when I was looking at the starting icons…maybe because I wasn’t focused enough on it to actually see there was something deleted twenty years ago. -Uh….yea dad, just give me a minute and I’m there! – I finally responded to my father’s second yell. First, though, I had to check out what was left in the bin. Double clicking it, it opened another tab that showed a black icon, titled “Game for Fun”. -Halleluiah! - I exclaimed in joy. There was finally something to see out of this old thing. Without wasting my minute, which was now probably thirty seconds, I double clicked the black icon, it transferred it back to the desktop, and when I launched it again, another window popped up and went into full screen. For a second I wanted until a black background and a menu appeared. On top of it was a message. “Welcome back, Player 1” with purple letters. The menu started with.
-What the? – I verbally asked. There was no explanation to that mechanic, but that wasn’t all. As the stickman disappeared, a rotating title appeared that flashed in bright red. It said, “ENTER THE GAME”. Weren’t I in the game already though? I clicked on the other option, which was “Star Over”, and attempted the same thing, but once again the thing repeated and the stickman died. Getting a bit over it, I was about to start once again when our family dog Jolly, entered the room by climbing up the stairs. She was a female Husky, which had purely white fur and intellect as smart as a human did. -Hey there girl?! Whatchu’ doin’ here?! – I asked her, while looking at her perfectly crystal blue eyes and caressing her soft fur. She woof-ed at me and tried to come and lick my face. I let her for a bit and I remembered that I had to go help dad. Leaving the room and climbing down the ladder that led into it, I ran downstairs, leaving Jolly to stay there and wait for my return. Getting there, I remembered that there was so many things, yet to be done. There were still tons of boxes from the move, and we had to separate it into the corresponding rooms. Box 1 was filled with dishes, pans, skillets and different kind of kitchen appliances that were logically going in the kitchen and so on. As we moved dad asked me if I liked the room. -Well, it is a bit dirty, but I think I can manage to turn it into something cozy – I replied lifting up box 2, which was to be headed to the living room. , - Oh, and that old PC is somewhat rare to see, it’s quite the antique- I added. My father had this odd look at me, which seemed a bit worried. -What’s up? – I asked him, seeing his strange concern. He didn’t seem to want to answer, but seeing, as I wasn’t going to ignore that, he did. -Well, ever since we got here, I was meaning to call the land-lord and ask him if the remaining furniture is part of the house, because we agreed on an empty one and clearly, as you see…this one isn’t empty at all. I was a bit taken back by that…what did he mean by that? Wasn’t it mean to be stored with the furniture? If not…then whose stuff were these? Asking him the same he shrugged his shoulders right as a barrage of barking followed. We looked at each other and dropped the boxes. We could recognize the tone of the barking and this was straight up murder bark. And, to be honest, Jolly wasn’t the type to bark that way, not without someone forcing her to do. Mom was in the car, still filling the bags with items, and we were the only two outside. Which meant, there was someone trying to hurt her on the inside! Rushing up the stairs and then the small ladder, we hopped on the attic, but dad placed his hand before me to stop me. -Wait! – He order and I stopped climbing the ladder. I could hear her though…she was growling at something I couldn’t see. -What is it? What’s going on? – I whispered by he didn’t reply. I pushed my head upwards so I could try to see, but I was able to only manage a glance of Jolly as she was slowly laying on her fours. The growls were now minimized to whimpers as he was crying. Dad finally entered the room, letting me in too. At first, everything seemed fine, until I saw the broken monitor of the PC. Dad walked slowly to her and started caressing her ears while I inspected the computer. It was still running somehow, even as the main cable was unplugged. How did the monitor break, was beyond me though. I mean, sometimes the PC’s work for a few seconds after they are shut down, but explaining why the screen was shattered was the hard part. Not to mention, the red stains on the broken glass. Even if Jolly was to break it, I don’t know how did she unplug the power cable, without electrocuting herself when she bites it. This whole charade was a bit shady, and trying to comprehend what was causing this thing, was probably pointless, because it wasn’t meant for us to understand. Dad’s phone then rang and he swiftly picked up, as he moved away from Jolly. I kneed right next her and started doing the same as Dad. I could overhear the caller’s words, which rather worried me. -“Jack, I don’t know where you are, but you’ve entered the wrong house. The one I am at is probably 5 miles along the street. The one you are at is no longer occupied but is not listed for sale, so I suggest you leave it! “– he said, sounding a bit stressed. Dad told him to wait there and hang up. -Get your stuff again and let’s get out of here, we’ve mistaken the house. Following his order, I tried to get up with Jolly, but for the passing time I was listening to the caller, I didn’t feel her there anymore. At first, I thought she was calm, but as I looked to her, she wasn’t breathing anymore. Looking at my hand that was still caressing her, I found it was covered in blood. -Dad?! – I said, not knowing what to do. Hearing my increasing fear he kneed next to me and started examining the dog, which didn’t show any signs of life anymore, despite it being alive a mere second ago. -Oh my god…- I could hear him murmur under his breath. Tears were starting to fill my eyes, as he was trying to find something to say. There was nothing to be said…she was gone, our Jolly. Dad stopped caressing her, and then as he lifted his hand I saw something that made me curl up. Beneath her ear, where a patch of fur used to be, was now something red-ish a writing, with a bit of glass still sticking up from it…. Dad saw it too, but I was too shaken to pronounce it. As I remember this, ten years from now, I still get a strange feeling of dread over my shoulders. As a dead memory I had forced it into a dimension of my mind that I didn’t want to open ever again, it was now clearer than before. Powered by the catalyst, which was I? Looking from the window and seeing the very same looking dog, I was reminded of her…of our Jolly…of this story I am writing at this moment. I was yet again brought back to that old past of events I tried to forget ever happening. Yet, even if my mind had someway suppressed it, and configured it into a strange déjà-vu, I didn’t try to hide it in a corner of my mind. Even if my old self, stopped playing with computers and games, my older self, wanted to regain that story, share it will people, and forget it all over again. I don’t know who did it. Was it something beyond this world? Something that came out of this Computer? I do not know, but I will be haunted by that memory for the rest of my life, without a way to stop it, even if I placed it somewhere in the darkest part where I don’t wanna seek. Because that scarring writing, carved into Jolly’s skin, was the following, “She entered the game. She entered the Game. SHE ENTERED THE GAME”. [Happy] Another day and time didn’t seem to have passed. Even If the clouds moved in the sky, the hours in the clock moved way too slow to even be considered as vast. There was nothing more boring and monotone than to watch as the birds flew and the flowers bloomed, yet for the old lady in the asylum, it was the only thing to do. The small pond next to the building was quietly flowing as it always did, and she watched it carefully and felt it representing the time she was confined, here, yet not literally. She always had freedom, she always had something to do. Schizophrenia and insomnia were her best pals in her walks, yet Alzheimer was her go to child. The sisters in the hospital couldn’t help her with that, so they were forced to watch as she declined in health and didn’t feel better. More than two years was the granny locked here, leaving her not feeling any sort of love. But then came Easter one year, and her kids decided they wanted to bring her in too to the family gathering. She was still carefully observing as the lawnmower was moving swiftly across the open field of grass, operated by Sir Joseph, the asylums garden-taker. She wasn’t startled as the door to her room opened. -Miss Summer? Your son is here. Would you like to pack your baggage or go with him and let me take care of it? – asked one of the sisters, looking at the old lady. She wasn’t really thin, yet not that big either. Wearing a dark green skirt extending to her ankles, she turned around from the window and buttoned her yellow yarn vest. Her hair was spreading from all spots, but her blue squared glasses brought all the attention. -I packed all my clothes and meds in the sack over there hunny. If you like you could take it downstairs with me? – she explained, pointing at the sack next to her bed by the window. The sister nodded her head and grabbed the sack filled with all kind of clothes and escorted her to the first floor of the building. -Mom! – exclaimed the young man and hurried to greet her. He was nearing the thirties but was still caring for her. Perhaps her only son who still thought about her and not about all the other things that come with adulthood. -Michel! – she replied with a hug. Miss Summer hadn’t seen him since forever and wanted nothing more than to see her children and grandchildren as well. People still thought about the fact that she remembered them, even if she had that wicked sickness. The bond between mother and child must’ve been sacred for them. -Where’s John, I don’t see Harper as well…? – she looked around him but there was no one with him. -John is still at work, and Harper was feeling a bit under the weather so I took the car and drove to get you! – explained Michel through as smile and looked at the sister, - Does she have everything she needs for the trip? The young girl nodded and smiled because of the reunion. -Well then, I guess we should go because Jenny and Kolson can’t wait to see you again! – said Michel and holding the hand of his mother, led her to the car outside. He strapped her in with the seat belt and started the engine of the Tesla he bought a couple of months ago. He, being the young business man he was, had the money to do so, yet her youngest son Harper, a junky that was addicted to marijuana wasn’t that successful as his older brothers. The biggest was John, who worked most of the days, having a colossal business as a car dealer. Bearing two children from the woman he met, he didn’t really have the time to go and see his mother. Michel on the other side, was also quite well paid for his job, yet not having the responsibility of children he thought dearly of his dear old mother, left in the asylum a couple of years ago. They didn’t want to do it, but as he was recalling one night, it was getting rough for Miss Summer. It was getting the best of her. There wasn’t saving it. She had nearly fed the newborn Jenny a spoonful of mouse poison instead of her banana mash, but was thankfully stopped by Karla, John’s wife. From then on, she was brought to Saint George Mental Hospital and was taken care by the doctors. In her mind though, she was quite alright. Yeah, she did forget some things, but it was all good. What was so upsetting about forgetting where you live? Or about forgetting your late husband’s name? That was boosted by the lack of sleep, and the voices she heard from times to times. Overall, she was expecting to recover from all sort of illnesses until the next year, when she would turn fifty-two. That was her prognosis though…what the doctors thought about her supportive sicknesses was that she was beyond curable and should stay on meds for the rest of her life...Who listened to doctors anyway? She was alright and alright she was! -Well Alright then! – Happily resounded the voice of Karla, seeing that Miss Summer wanted to help her with the cooking instead of sitting for the rest of the day. They were in the big house of her husband, who a veteran, had been promoted to a higher rank, which was paid quite handsomely, but ultimately passed away from cancer ten years ago, and left this big mansion to his wife and kids. They weren’t in it for two hours and Miss Summer seemed better than ever before. Thinking and speaking soberly, remembering old recipes for lunch and dinner, she was at her best. All were shocked at her fast recovery and her rapid acceleration of thoughts. She was speaking and remembering all sorts of stories from the asylum and everyone, including the kids listened to her old and catchy tone. More or less, the family was brought back together. The table was served, filled with all kind of extravagant nuances of food that could make the monks sworn to never eat, hungry. Plates with corn and peas on the other side. Dishes of fried fish with a side of lemon to the other. On the main side, a large pot filled the sweetest rabbit stew she could make. Right next to it, chicken tenders and honied thighs. -Now for the prayer before we dig in this food our precious mother and grandmother helped prepare for us! Mom, would you like to take the lead on this one? – asked Michel and looked at miss Summer who had blistering tears of joy in her eyes. She nodded her head and started speaking. -We are gathered here, on the table of my husband, their father and grandfather to celebrate the coming of Easter. Dear lord! Would you bless this wonderful palate of food and grant us the privilege to dine on them and cherish onto our love for you? Please, oh Lord, help us, lead the way through your wisdom and make so that all here on the table, blossom in goodness! – She prayed holding her arms tight. -Amen - all yelled. -Amen - she replied and grabbed her utensils. They followed in her lead and started filling their plates and pots with drinks and food, munching on them greedily. She watched them with a smile, a genuine smile, that could only be described onto a dear old mother, or a small little child. She was both in a way. A child, and a mother. A child, happy to be sitting in the central place at the table, and a mother in pain, having to kill her children. The child in her was quite stronger though, because it had heard their dilemma a moment ago, when she was setting the table. All of them, even her Mickey, were yelling and calling themselves names. All because of this house and who would be the one to inherit it when she passes away. Was this so important that they had to yell and shout about it, for the entire house to hear? Even Karla went upstairs, and joined in their discussion. That itself made miss Summer quite sad, and she was having such a nice day. Their plan from the start was to bring her here, and name the successor of this building, and then take her back to the asylum. -Do you like it? – asked the old lady, looking at their faces, paler than before. Harper was the first to choke. His face all purple and his veins nearly popping from beneath. He died there. So did all the rest. John, Michel, Harper, Karla…all had their heads in theirs plates…all breathless, and gone from this world. White foam was covering their mouths as they begged, suffocating onto their meals. Yet, to no avail, seeing as there was no one left to save them. Tears fell both from the eyes of the old woman, and from the red painful stares left onto the faces of the family. Those who were left…were too young to be wiped away. Miss Summer’s grandchildren were playing upstairs but were still young, innocent and she would be glad to take care of them. The voices in her head were agreeing with her, and she listened to them, she always did. They were her friend when no one was there beside her. When she couldn’t sleep at night, they talked to her, whispered to her…made her…alive, kept her that way. Gripping the bottle of mouse poison from her vest, she disgustedly threw it in the garbage bin, and smirked. After all, why not? Wasn’t she a human too? Wasn’t she able to feel something more than sadness all the time? Of course, she was. Miss Summer deserved better, and better was her peak from now on. She would strive to help herself. To make herself a better person. Someone who is good. Someone, who is Happy. [Nightly Tunes] I was about to extinguish the remaining flames in the pit of fire, when I hear Lorra, yell something from inside the tent. -Come on already! I want to snuggle! – sounded the voice of my wife. The note of playfulness I heard in it made me want to hurry and see if she was actually in the mood to do something in the middle of nowhere. The campfire was now gone, with only the smoke reaching towards the moon, leaving a trace of what was there. I looked around, only to inspect if there were some random animals, but it was all too clear. I mean, we had picked the best place to camp out during the summer heat, and I couldn’t be happier with it. We had nature, grass, trees, and even a lake on the right side of the site. The left led deeper in the forest from where we came from. A little bit north and we could enter the main road, and on our way towards home. But I guess since we were here now, it would be nice to relax for the time being. It didn’t take much to get here, and we sure as hell weren’t going to just sit around and admire the skyline on the top, and sight see the starts shining in the galaxy of endless such lights. I was about to enter the tent but I heard a cricket hop on next to me, so I let him pass by without entering our “love nest”. -Did nature freak you out? – childishly asked the young woman, holding a hot thermos with coco. Zipping up the entrance I laid next to her onto the cot and stared into her even now reflective green eyes. It was scary how even in this tight light the structure managed to manifest, she looked as gorgeous as always. The strands of tar fell peacefully over her shoulders as she sipped from the thermos flask. -What? – she asked and pinched me gingerly. I shook my head and hugged her, trying to appreciate how much she meant to me, and how close was I too loosing myself in this dark void that was myself. You see, without meeting her back then, five years ago in campus on my way to class, I wasn’t going to be the man I am today. I was probably going to end up, suffering, every morning getting up dreading about the following events that were going to take place in my bad mindset that I myself was creating in a way to cope with the fact that no one was interested in knowing me or about my problems. Until I met her. Before I would create problems by myself and end up regretting my whole existence because of the depression that was my own mind. I was literally rotting in vain, because I didn’t have any purpose. But after we met, and started talking, my whole life turned brighter. My days starter blooming into something nicer that I didn’t really want to acknowledge before that. Lorra was my savior and I really loved her for that. -I just really love you! – I said, nearly whispering as she was in my arms. She sighted. It wasn’t that sigh people make when they are tired of someone’s bullshit…it was the sigh you make when you feel too overwhelmed with emotions. We laid there, in our embrace of warm feelings and enjoyed every moment of it. -I don’t want to even think about work…I just want to stay here until next week – she said and chuckled. It wasn’t that bad of an idea. I could always take some days off from my holidays from work and call it a spontaneous adventure and we would be set. -You know, if you want to, we can stay here until we feel back going to the surface again?! – I added, chuckling myself. She nodded her head, as much as she could, still close to me. Her entire body just got softer and lighter all of a sudden, showing me, she was in peace. I smirked. We could do something later too. Now we could just lay like this. Though, the naughty bugs were beginning to form, seeing her so limp and quiet. I mean, we were basically all alone, and had the place to ourselves. We could play hide and seek, go and swim in the lake, walk around the area aimlessly, or just plain roast marshmallows and make smores, but no…we were laying and snuggling, which overall, don’t take me wrong, wasn’t a bad thing, it was nicer than drinking holy water from the well of Christ, if there was one. But there was still something unique missing from this perfect scenario of events. A frame to the main picture. A piece to put in the puzzle so it can rebuild the overarching story of the campfire myths. And just like that, I got it. The myth, the tales, the folklore around this sort of environment. The spooky stories! We didn’t say any when we were by the fire. So, why not now? Checking to see If she was still awake, I nudged her ear for a second. -Hmm? – I heard her humming. -Well, since we didn’t do it before, do you want to dangle in with the campfire traditions and maybe tell ourselves scary stories? – I asked, waiting for a response. She jerked and lifted her head so I could see her eyes now. -Yea! – she whispered excitedly, as her mouth was still covered. -Alright then, do you wish to start, or do you want me to do? – I asked looking at her hyped expression. She pointed at me with her head, as much as she could and let me start off. I talked about a kid that fell down a well, and haunted it until someday someone found his remains and buried them next to it. She felt some shivers but wasn’t that affected. Next, she recalled a spooky encounter of her friend, where she saw someone kidnapping another woman in broad daylight. That made me feel angrier than scared but it was still something. -Alright, back to you! – she said and giggled, waiting for me to think of something. To be honest, I did suggest the idea, but in all aspects, I didn’t really have a story that can knock someone’s boots off. Or maybe I did? It was a tale my grandma used to tell me when I would be late for dinner. More of a folk than a scary tale, but It would still do the thing, I hoped though. -Alright, I think I have it…- There used to be a small innocent boy that would play around the small countryside village. He was happy, smart and very polite. Jerry was his name. Now Jerry liked exploring like all kids, and would often go and visit the forest, just like this one we are in, and go to see if there were any fishes in the lake, just like the one we are next to. But, one day, as his grandmother found out how far he went, searching to find something to entertain himself with, she told him to not strain further from the village, and to come back not much later after the dinner was served. Jerry did listen to her, once or twice maybe, but not that many times. One day he got so distracted following the fishes in the lake, that he forgot about the warning by his grandmother. He played around until it was so dark, he couldn’t even see his hands anymore. Just then the warning of his granny came to haunt him. He began hearing strange sounds. Notes, as if coming from a bagpipe. Jerry was confused but entangled with excitement over this new found mystery to solve. But Jerry didn’t know that it would lead him to his end. You see. Those notes from the pipes weren’t ordinary ones, nor was his granny warning ordinary. It was to protect him from the village’s dark myth about the piper from the lake. There once was a piper that would play his tunes and entertain the folk. An invasion of the area would follow though, and many folks would be slaughtered. The piper would end up escaping, but the invaders would catch up to him, right by the lake. Many think that the bad folk drowned him there, or took his bagpipe and left him to beg for it until they killed him. It was then followed as a rule to not stay by the lake after dusk as for the tunes of the pipe would drive someone crazy enough to drown. But even then, Jerry didn’t back away. He was so invested in this journey that he forgot about common sense. He was mesmerized from the crying of the pipes; he was controlled by them. He entered the lake, and never emerged again – I finished, adding a lower pitch to my voice to sound more frightening. To my amazement I found out Lorra had passed out, and was peacefully sleeping, still tightly snuggling onto me. Not knowing till when was she still awake, the story didn’t get even a slight reaction from her. I kind of felt silly, but didn’t think much of it. Placing my arm around her I covered ourselves with the soft blanket we brought and called it a night. I can’t explain how it felt, but it was sort of nice to lie there, by your loved one and experience the nature’s way of telling you goodnight. It didn’t take much to dove into the realm of dreams around the seismic sounds of the forest. Was it the chirping of the crickets? Or the hoots of the owls, I don’t know, but it felt amazing. It was relaxing and enticing to say the least. I don’t know how much I laid there together with Lorra, but it seemed like an eternity. I didn’t remember when exactly I drifted, but I could understand by what I was awaken by. Added to the amazing galore of nature sounds was a music I couldn’t follow. It was strange, yet somehow…buzzing me to witness its producer. Lazily I opened my eye, and felt stressed. The music was indeed real, yet what didn’t feel real, or wasn’t there, was Lorra. She was no longer next to me, nor was she in the tent. Looking up I saw how the entrance was zipped up and swiftly managed to leave it to look for her. It was still dark, yet not that much and I could begin to see more clearly. The music notes coming from what seemed like a bagpipe were getting louder. Turning towards the lake, seeming like it felt as it came from there, I headed closer, only to freeze. A line of children, still wearing their pajamas were following some…corpse…some skeleton holding a pipe. Was I still dreaming or did the story just came to life? The skeleton of the man that was a myth, turned its bony head towards me, and began blowing through the hole of the instrument, making the iconic note I was hearing. It was…rhythmic, loud and…in a way hypnotizing. His eyes remained, rotting to their cores, as only two white dots started at me. The piper didn’t stop playing as his music was bringing all life towards him. The children were reeling close behind, as he entered the lake. Five or six kids…and an adult looking quite like Lorra. I had to stop it, stop her from entering the lake and drowning like in the story. But my feet weren’t moving as I liked them to. They were moving as much as the piper’s skeleton feet were. As If a pupper controlled by strings I was playing in the piper’s puppeteering show. Unable to move, not making any sort of progress in helping anyone I was blindly following the notes coming from the baggy instrument. The piper was now fully inside the lake as the waters engulfed him. The children also behind him started vanishing one by one, with their heads submerging in the coldness of the waves. I was there too. Just by the edge of it. Lorra was right in front of me, maybe twelve feet, but was already shoulders deep in it. I wanted to scream for her, yell, do something…but I couldn’t. There weren’t any bindings onto me, but neither my mouth nor arms nor legs could break from that dreadful sound of the pipes. Paralyzed by the instrumental itself, I watched, horrified as my loved one…was entering her death. Lorra’s head started submerging as well…I couldn’t do anything but watch as her hair vanished into the water, diving slowly, and sinking alongside the line of doom. Tears started blasting out of my eyes as my heart was tied in a wrench of grief and destruction. -NO! – I finally managed to scream in agony… It was when the music had stopped. When I was just in the middle of the process of getting in the waters, knees deep. All of them were dead. Their bodies gone…killed by the sound of the pipes. I couldn’t do anything but stand there…and watch as the sun showed itself onto the horizon, illuminating my loss. Later… I can no longer feel. Happiness is a vast emotion I am yet to rediscover. Sitting on the chair I am on now, I am writing this, to inform you. Don’t listen to the tune. Don’t follow it…because even if the light of the morning saves you, the night then brings the pipes back. I can hear them now…which is why when this message is over, I shall insert my neck around the noose, and stop the tape that is constantly replaying in my head. I shall stop the constant buzzing. And cut the cord that is my mind. Replace the noise of the instrument, with blissful peace, with silence. So, heed my warning. If you don’t want to suffer in this miserable rotation of everlasting replaying desire to dive in the water, don’t go there. Don’t follow the road…don’t listen to the melody that comes from nowhere. Just don’t even go there, stay safe within your house, or you will suffer, by the Nightly tuned radio that is the piper’s bagpipe. [What if we didn’t die?] Truly. What would be if we didn’t die? I mean, if we weren’t dead when they were burying us alive? Strange huh? That thought came to me all out of a sudden as I was elapsed in my sleep. Was it something as an existential question I had asked myself countless times through the millions of conversations I’ve had with myself or with someone I knew? Maybe, maybe it was a video I watched while eating chips staring at the screen and listening to someone explaining this sort of dilemma. Who knows from where this thought was born, the thing that bothered me was that I couldn’t think about anything else but that single constant in my head that wasn’t about to just vanish and spread into the vast expanded nothingness that was my sleep? It might cease to bother me with this kind of crucial need of knowledge about that subject. Or, it might float in my consciousness until I decide to come back to it. Yeah, I would try to push it back and reenter this meaningful process of debunking this question and trying to figure out the answer to it somewhat later. I tried to move but I was probably not able to control my body, still locked in the space of time that is my dream itself. Most of the times I would break free from those invisible chains entangling me in one place, but today for some reason I couldn’t. “I guess I will try to find some entertaining memory or create a piece of imaginary footage to spin my head, thinking it will someday happen”. That’s what I tried to do but failed. As much as I wanted to see the girl of my dreams…in my dreams I couldn’t pull it up for some reason. My brain was not even acknowledging me that request. What I did let me see…was something I probably had seen before or…experienced? A déjà vu in my sleep that I’ve already felt and been at. I was looking above towards the sky and felt many a eyes stare at me. Their faces were grim, filled with grief and sadness. I didn’t know why, but I felt my heart tighten from the weight of seeing my mother leaping, and looking as I was descending towards some place unknown. My father was trying to tough it out but I could see the immense depth of his eyes, and the pain he was going through. There were many other people I didn’t know, standing from all the sides of the thing that looked like a hole the more I was floating towards somewhere. Why In the world was I going somewhere that was making my parents sad? Actually, where was I going in the first place? Looking around me, I didn’t see much. Only something that looked like dirt, that was submerging me, or taking me in as a grave. That’s when my mind figured out the question. I tried to make my arm rise but for some reason, the dream didn’t let me do it too. My eyes were opened but they couldn’t see as the undertakers started pouring chunks of soil and mud on top of the glass ceiling that was the coffins door. Screaming for help didn’t do any better either. I was just destined to look and see how I was being buried. My whole-body kind of twitched as I opened my eyes to the darkness. The surrounding was just pure and dark, nothing. At all directions. I could move myself I could only see pitch black staring back at me. That was kind of comforting, for exactly two seconds as my mind started retrieving memories, and glimpses of things I’ve felt, seen or lived. My funeral…how they watched me as my coffin was being dropped gently in the six-foot hole…how the dirt and sand was being thrown at the coffin. I didn’t remember seeing their faces as that was only a dream but if it was meant to be reality, then I would accept it as it might’ve looked just like that. The small space I had to move was making me claustrophobic. If I could break through the glass upper part that was the top of the coffin door I would swim out of the dirt and soil as a mole but…that was purely impossible. Not only I didn’t have the strength, or the extend to punch precisely at it. I could try and kick it, but that wouldn’t work at all, because my feet were so tight to each other that I couldn’t even move them that much. So…what could I do? Try to think about something and maybe wish that there was some possible way for me to escape this gruesome fate of being buried alive. I didn’t even remember what had happened to me, but…for some reason they thought I was dead. Well I wasn’t…I could see the fog that was gathered on the window of the door coming from my mouth. It was clear that I had a small amount of time until I was actually dead so thinking I would try and preserve my energy and breath I started controlling it. For some reason though, maybe as time passed and my air was getting thinner and slimmer, I could feel voices. Hearing them, whispering stuff from some place I couldn’t even see because of the darkness. They were talking quite loud for me to hear them from the position I was in. After some more time, the voices were now part of me, as I, one of them. I could no longer hear them whisper, but scream. They weren’t even talking they were just crying their hearts out, begging for someone to help them, and uncover them from this concealing coffin they were stuck in. I couldn’t do much but join in the rumble of mixture…join the collision of sound that was our plead for help. Their agony and the plain echo of despair and dread, coming from the intonation of their yells was chilling me. Nevertheless, even for the slightest moment, I didn’t feel as scared as the rest. For some reason I felt somewhat calm, for a man who was going to suffocate sooner or late. Even if their screams and growls sounded painful, with a pitch I could only decipher as horrified, it didn’t bother me that much now. Moreover that, knowing that there were others, just like me, stuck in the muddy ground, covered by many pounds of soil; I felt just about calm and ready to accept it. Having felt all those things, I was about certain I could finally answer the question that brought me to the realization I was still alive. The question being, “What if we didn’t die?” “Well, if we didn’t die the first time…we would hope that we did, for not to suffer as we did again.” [Aliens are Real!] It didn’t bother me then, but it sure as hell does now. To be honest I didn’t know I was communicating with something out of this world…something, a creature that resides in another planet, different from our own. Nevertheless, how could I know? He was…he looked exactly like a person, like someone who had a life in this rock and had work and struggles. To this day, I can’t fully understand how could something look so different when exposed to the light that is reality. However, I guess I should turn back, to the point when I met it, and share this moment. I remember I had just entered the night café when the owner greeted me with the usual smirk. -You want the usual stuff Marf? – asked the chubby guy, dressed in a white robe. -Yea, you know me, a small coffee and a bagel with extra sesame. – I ordered and headed towards the far-right side of the place. It wasn’t very big but it was somewhat spacious. Well, considering it was nearing midnight it was all right. I had about fifteen minutes to myself before heading towards the power plant I worked at. I liked the night shifts because I preferred to work alone and most of the time at quiet environments, with not much to make me uncomfortable. Moreover, there wasn’t much that could happen at the power plant at night…well, that is if it’s not Chernobyl. Dark jokes aside, I wasn’t very psyched for the shift knowing I had to stay eight hours in a cabin, and from times to times go on the regular checkups around the plant. Watching movies without sleep during the day didn’t help either, knowing I had to be always sober and remain awake, because, well it was a night guard’s duty to be. Rabba, the owner, came to me sluggishly and placed the order on the table. -Gotta say Marf, you look kind of tired? – He pointed out and placed his hands on the hips. I sighed and added the pack of sugar to the coffee. I needed some energy to keep me up for an all-nighter. -Yea, no shit…haven’t slept in twenty-four hours…- I replied, rotating the liquid in the small porcelain cup. His brows mushed and they themselves formed the question why, not needing him to do so. -Because…well because I didn’t want to sleep. Watched a ton of movies…horror ones, and was…well, to paranoid to go to sleep…- I explained a bit hesitant and finally took a sip. His mouth formed into a smile, yet he didn’t laugh. He then slowly patted my back to my amusement and headed towards the bartender’s desk. -I’ve been there to mate, don’t worry! – he said as he was walking away. I didn’t think he was serious, but of course…he was human too, perhaps like me, he also liked watching movies and wasting his time, entertaining himself to no tire. Rabba was a strange guy, but at least he didn’t leave forearm hairs in the coffee, plus he was the only person I could actually speak to in this kind of hour, knowing nobody in work was left. I started slowly eating the bagel, enjoying it to its core. It was probably the healthiest thing I ate since the last eight hours so it counted. It was soft and juicy, so taking my time and chewing each bite was a bliss, for a man too tired to even blink. Just then, my phone rang from inside the jeans pocket. Taking it out I saw that there was a message from my boss. “Hey Marfew, due to a shortage at the PP section 3, your scheduled shift is going to be reduced with an hour. Curtesy, Joseph L. Plenist.” That was lucky. I got to go home one hour earlier than predicted, which meant I could sleep even longer. That itself cheered me up for the night. -Alright Rabba, see you tomorrow! – I yelled as he was in the kitchen. He waved at me from the small window and I left the platter of the leftovers on the bartender’s desk. I placed five bucks including the tip and left the cafeteria. The night was calm and breezy, being nearly 25 degrees. It was gonna get colder later though, and having the work jacket I was provided I needn’t worry. I had more than five minutes to drive at least two miles to the plant so I was okay. Entering the old yet trusty Dodge two-seater I quickly lowered the side windows and started the engine. The radio was instantly on and had placed in the rock top charts channel, and for a split second, i heard a song that was probably by Metallica, until it was switched to Radiohead. Starting to bob my head to the riff, I was just ready to leave the lot when a knock on the passenger’s side startled me. I looked quickly, though it was somewhat dark, considering it was past midnight. What I saw, was a seemingly ordinary person in a suit. Why was he dressed that way, what did he want, and what was he doing there? All questions I didn’t ask him at first. I didn’t even ask anything; he was the one that started. -Oh hello, sorry to have scared you. My name is Philip, and im from the association of the power plant organization and I am heading towards the nearby plant. Would you be kind enough to drive me there, since I have forgotten my car? – asked the man, speaking as if he had rehearsed that line for the past ten minutes. A couple of questions formed then. First off, how can someone forget his car? If he lived in a different state, alright, but if he was from here, that’s plain stupid. Second, what kind of organization was that, I didn’t know, and was sure as hell not about to ask him. The thing I knew for certain was that he was some fella; send to check something at the plant. In addition, if somehow the boss found out that I was the one responsible for this guy being late, I was sure as hell going to be fired. Finally, I was heading that way, and the man, even in this completely blacked out suit, looked strangely okay. -Sure, hop in…- I replied. The man then slowly yet mechanically opened the door, placed his right leg, and fluently entered the car without making much movement. Now I noticed that he had a briefcase with him, which he tucked in between his legs. In the light, I could see his face clearer. At first glance, he looked just like a slick. His hair all shined up and combed to the side, his face all shaven. Only the dark eyes seemed a bit eerie, but it wasn’t that big of a deal, knowing neatly all dark eyed folk had that effect in the night. Not thinking more about it, I finally left the lot and entered the road. The man sat in a fully extended posture that looked a bit funny in the suit, yet I didn’t say anything to offend him. In fact, I didn’t say much, because as we entered the pavement, he began explaining his business at the plant. -You see, I am headed there because I have been informed that there has been a shortage at power plant section number three. My organization send me to investigate that sort of phenomenon and try to clear the problem, and overall oversee the product level of the facility- he explained in an overly formal tone that sounded as if I was about to get fired. As he said it, he looked at me on the last word and expected some sort of reply from me. -Well…I hope it’s nothing much and it doesn’t take much of your time! – I responded trying to sound as cheerful as possible. His gaze didn’t leave me though. His expression slowly manifested into somewhat of a surprise. -Are you not worried? -Well, I only guard the place, it’s not as if I am a worker there and I’ve mess-ed something up. Mainly yes, I am because if the plant shut down, I wouldn’t have a job. However, not in the scenario that I am worried as a worker – I tried to explain as much as possible. His head nodded, but his gaze didn’t turn away again. He was fixated on me, and there was a bit more of driving until the plant itself. Not wanting to confront him, I just paid attention to the empty car-less road and drove ahead. -Do you fear your job? – He suddenly asked. -Excuse me? His demeanor rather shifted and his face got a bit deeper, his eyes now appeared more sunken, with bags under them. -Do you have any fears in your job…any strange unexplainable events, taken action during your shift? Has…something odd or mysterious ever occurred in the particular job that you have? – He asked the same question in different arrangements. I really had to think about it, because mainly, the most kind of thing that could be deemed strange was the one time I found a pile of dead cats nearby the woods around the premises, but that’s all about it. -There was one time I found a couple of dead animals, but that’s about it. Nothing strange about the plant – I tried to answer the best I could. -So, you do not believe in the unexplainable phenomena’s in the world? – He asked, even more intrigued by me. -Well, of course I do, I didn’t say I didn’t. Though I do believe there might be something there, I couldn’t fully comprehend it until I see it for myself – I said and saw that we were approaching the gated facility. -So, in order for humans to believe in something, they need to experience in live view before them? – he asked immediately after me. That was a bit of an odd question…but I guess it was like that. Not mainly humans but most of the minds of people worked that way. Not paying much attention to something until it happens. -Well…kind of- I started saying but we reached the point where I had to pass thought the barricade. Greeting the man at the pod, I waited for the barricade to be raised and to enter the facility’s ground. Once I parked the car at the buildings lot, I turned back to him. -You were saying. I got a bit frustrated with his acting but we were finally here, so I guess running along with this fellow’s pace was for the best if I wanted to keep my job. -Most, not all, but mainly the general part of the world believes that there are some strange things that can’t be explained just by science or common sense. Some though, I believe, can’t perceive anything in their mind unless they see it, right in front of them. That was my point. – I finished and waited for a response. He calmly nodded his head and thanked me for the profound and detailed analysis of that question. With his long limbs, he called legs he opened the door and exited the vehicle as fluently as he entered it a couple of minutes ago. I watched him as he took a few steps towards the facility, stopped, looked at the sky and stood still awaiting something. I was about to leave the car as well, thinking he was probably checking if it was raining for some reason. As I grabbed the handle, a shining ray of light bursted through an object in the sky, transmitting some kind of energy I didn’t even feel. The man in the suit did however. Philip stood there and remained calm, as the transmitting ray of light was…taking him away. I couldn’t leave the car anymore, because for some reason the car wasn’t functioning properly. I didn’t want to anyway…seeing this unfold before me was enough to paralyze my entire system. I could only see the rotating triangle in the air. It didn’t look like the saucers depicted in the books at all, let alone like a ship. It was…indescribable for the naked eye, it was only rotating somehow, without any extra moves as it was abducting the suited man. Abducted wasn’t the right word for it, since he was…enjoying it. His face was calm…until it no longer remained one. His skin, melted from the power of the beam…and something I could only try to depict as a squid like creature floated in his place. The limbs that were his arms and legs were four very long tentacles…while the head was elongated and purple, with its eyes glowing bright yellow. Its body moved like a jellyfish, as it was covered in a dark-ish fur that twitched every time the light ray touched it, which was all the time. That was all I could see before it finally reached the triangle looking UFO. Once it entered it through the exposed circular hole, it vanished…just in the blink of an eye it was no longer there. Finally, the car started functioning again…and I could move, without my body trembling. I didn’t want to even if I could now. I wanted answers…or didn’t, because staying unaware was a bigger blessing than knowing the twisted reality that life was. Work could wait now…I didn’t have the right mind to guard something from creatures that I didn’t know. I just stood there and stared at the sky…knowing the truth was somewhere out there. The truth however was grimmer than I had imagined. Were they observing us, or trying to communicate, I didn’t know? However, after that close meeting with something I can only assume as an extraterrestrial, I left my job. I now write this because…I feel like the people need to know about them. They need to know about the disappearances of my fellow colleagues three days ago. They need to know about me, who is probably going to be their next victim. They need to know…they need to- [2058] “I am old. Old enough to remember the good old days when we lived normally. When… we lived. I am a child from the far year 1998, and I can say that…I’ve lived through a lot. Many a day I think about them memories and how I wish to just go back and feel it all over again…and then die, knowing I was free. Free from this constant fear that this oppression has brought. The world war 3. The massive battle of nations over power and stability. It started after 2022, and ended right after 23…and so marked the age of extinction for us humans. The battlefield was mainly the entire earth, with each nation capable of launching missile in the ring. First, it came from the far east, then the crazy wild west. The impact was so strong it didn’t end. Not until world war 4, which finally ended us, and made us into what we are now…Noeupore. The name we call our “new” land. Because…it brought the survivors from each continent…to one. What was once the big union…was now…the junkyard of each race? I myself carried my family into it, since I lived in what was once the union. However, the fourth war exterminated even the one thing we had to keep safe. Nature. Since that war was fought using only high chemicals, the air was highly polluted by the harmful fumes that killed quite the casualties. After all, by 2030, we were surrounded by a large field of nothingness. Wherever you looked at, in all directions, you could only see a vast field of dark fog that was slowly pushing us slowly to certain death. The main land wasn’t bigger than England by 2040, and by now,…it is nearly wiped away. What remains is a city, in the heart of the “continent”. That itself shows how far they went into destroying each other in the final battle. In the meantime, they tormented the entire rest of the population, by just endlessly committing to a cause that was purely out of ego. And now, as I am sitting, and writing this story I want to spread my memory of how this world once lived. Because I know that I don’t have any time left, I can feel the cancer in me dancing from joy in having another prey fall victim to the war…a casualty that didn’t even engage in it. I…Martin Dimitrov Kratieski, lived my entire sixty-year-old life, fighting for my family, so that it one day survives. Yet it seems I wouldn’t be alive to see it grow larger and continue itself forward. That’s…just life…and we have to push through it, and maybe, just maybe, we could live for another day. More or less though, those are just words I say to consult myself…calm my poor spirit. Because, in probably a month, everything will be turned to ruin from that black smoke. By the end of 2058…we will die. Moreover, I can’t imagine, being in a world where I have to bury my children before myself. So…after this is done…and I can feel that it is nearly there…I shall take the first step and end it, before the plague does it to me. I just hope that my grandchildren rise and fight the oppression that is the “Phoenix Institute”. Those are a mass force or elite soldiers…that kill civilians each day to lower the percentage of the population to a certain point in order to reduce the plague outbreaks around the city. No matter the race or age, all who are picked to be sacrificed are ultimately killed without a reason. There is a counter group called “Novaellion” that gather resisting forces…mainly ordinary people that fight against the institute and its ways. Nevertheless, they mostly fail because of the larger army force. Even now, the civil war continues to rage on, during these dark times. The humans haven’t learned anything by now…but we are tired of always living in lock-down because of the institute. It is time to rise, and save our remaining territory, or die”. Martin left the pen down and looked at the barely readable words due to the constantly shaking hands. He couldn’t see that much but got up and looked out of the window. The sun was darker than usual…which meant they had probably a month to figure out something. That wasn’t much, and the old and tired man knew it. His body softly sat on the not so soft bed and twitched from the electricity that went on through it. His eyes watered, but not from the pain of the sickness, it was because he didn’t have the strength to worry about it anymore. He didn’t possess the power to even lift himself without anyone helping him. With a large sigh, coming out of him as a relief from the heavy thoughts in his mind, he managed to lay on his back and stare at the rugged ceiling. He thought about how to do it, how to end it before writing this letter, but in the end…naturally was best. That was hard for him yesterday though, but now, he only had to relax…and unleash himself. Being in constant pain in all his muscles and having no strength helped him remain fixated on moving more, keeping his entire system in a situation of endless struggle to keep himself in check. But now…as there wasn’t a way for him to help anyone with his body…he would help…in a way, with him not being there to hinder. Martin Dimitrov Kratieski, closed his eyes, and gave into the darkness they brought with it. Was his endless sleep going to be peaceful or painful…he didn’t know? Was the resistance going to succeed in its attempt to save their remaining land or fail miserably? He didn’t know, but could only wish for it to conquer this struggle. What he hoped for the most, is when he opens his eyes once again, he isn’t greeted by a ghetto city fighting for survival…but by a growing community of people, who live in harmony under a blissful sun that shines over green fields of fruitful life. By a utopia of peace, love and growing strength of their nation. To once again walk on ground, that isn’t painted with the blood of the endangered. [CONDEMNED] My story is long, but I shall start from the point where it was supposed to end. My name is Edmund Slype. I am not a bad man at heart…maybe not a bad man at all, but in the fortunate events of my life, I was forced, pushed, to become one. I am writing this story, knowing I am about to get out of prison next week, and thinking that I’ve been a good person for the last fifteen years. Well I am not…or perhaps I’ve set my mindset in not being one. But, let me first start of from the beginning of this gruesome tale of vengeance. From fifteen years ago. I was merely twenty years then, probably at the rock bottom of my life, well, until prison. I was looking for food in my non-adequate state behind a McDonald's. The trash bins resounded with a smell that was colossal to my nostrils, yet gave me a hunger that I couldn’t just leave aside. I hadn’t eaten in probably a full day, and was nearly hallucinating at this point. The drugs I was using didn’t help as well. Let’s say that my entire body felt like jelly, and trying to move wasn’t ideal, but for me to get better, finding food was the move, even if I couldn’t. So, for about half an hour I was throwing around the black bags with leftovers and what-not. I did find some cold fries which in hindsight I couldn’t really distinguish between the normal ones or those, because I was too fucked up to even understand those were actually potatoes. I munched on whatever I found there and finally satisfied with the junk that was in me I fell by the bin and leaned on its metal frame so I can chill for a bit until I found something different to entertain my drugged state of numb idiocy. Just then, if I had decided to move on and try and walk towards some other place, I could’ve avoided the mess that happened. Just like If I hadn’t accepted to take a loan so I can buy heroin I would’ve still be in college, and still have friends and parents to relay on, and so on, but that’s a different case. I didn’t move, I just watched as a black car, 4x4, entered the backside of the fast-food and stopped right next to the trash bins, in a way where the people couldn’t see me from the shadows. Two men then left the still running vehicle. -Take her out of the trunk and throw her by the bins so that the workers find her in the morning- said the voice of the first men that was wearing a hat. It was raspy, as if he had started smoking in his mother’s womb. The second man didn’t say anything. He hurried and opened the trunk, single-handedly lifted a body of a woman, and with a few steps towards the bin, dropped the body like a nasty diaper. The carcass fell in a way where her face was exposed towards mine. She was merely a girl, maybe around sixteen. Her scared from scratches face was probably really pretty, but those men had probably killed her or something. Looking at the torn rags she was covered with, she might have been raped as well. Just then I think I sobered up a bit, but still didn’t have the power to move normally. -Call 991, and report this…- said the man with the hat. That was strange, I thought they were going to wait for the morning. I looked at him and just then I saw his eyes, glaring at me with a smirk that I could only describe as evil. I lifted my hands to try and explain and tell them that I wasn’t going to tell anything, that I was just going to go, but the words I muttered were probably undecipherable to them and sounded like baby talk. -C’mon, lets leave as soon as possible…- once again ordered the boss. Both men entered the car, and as the one that was obeying the orders entered, I heard him call the number. I was a goddamn goner. I tried to move but my legs failed me. If I waited for a bit longer, I was sure as hell going to get framed for this. Along with the drugs in my blood I was 100% dead. Surely, I heard the sirens after minutes of hard labor in struggling to get up. The police car harshly entered the area and quickly parked right next to the bins in a way where the headlights illuminate the body…and me. One dark-skinned male officer and a white female one exited the car, pointing guns at me. -You have the right to remain silent, if you move, I will shoot! – exclaimed the male one and took a step towards me. Waving my hands in a gesture that I can describe as “unfortunate turn of events” or “it was a mistake”, I tried speaking, but the gibberish that came out didn’t really convince anyone that I was innocent. -Looks like we have a drug accident? – asked the woman officer, kneeing towards the body, yet glaring at me like a puma. -Doubt it, she was killed…look at the dark spots around the neck – pointed the male, and got even closer to me. I tried explaining myself again, yet the man wasn’t having it. He yelled for me to lay on my face and place my hands behind my back. I didn’t want to do it, but I had no choice. The drugs were going to move on in probably two hours and until then, I would be probably in jail. The cop handcuffed my hands and kneed towards the corpse of the girl. They inspected it as much and then called for an ambulance and the inspecting team. I was constantly trying to explain the situation but the cops weren’t even listening to the words because the thing that came out didn’t even register as a sound. In the end they muffled my speech with a handkerchief and continued their process. After twelve minutes all the teams were on the spot and were doing their jobs, and I was laying there like a duck that couldn’t quack. I watched as the paramedics inspected the clues and the damages on the girl, then as the ambulance workers lifted her body with the stretcher, and pulled her inside. The officers finally lifted me and pushed me harshly in the backseat after the teams were finished. My life couldn’t have taken to the worst then. Two weeks later. I was going to get a trial on the case of Leonora Joseph Parker. She was allegedly: raped, drugged, choked and murdered by the hands of…me, I guess. With no attorney, I didn’t have a really legal and justified defense… and was just placed in front of a crowd to be sentenced for a crime I didn’t commit. -So, by your testimony you claim you were on drugs when you entered the fast food chain, and saw a black vehicle join you by the place, two men exit the car, one wearing a fedora hat, and leave the body of the girl, while you were sitting by the bins and were…contemplating where to go next? – asked the judge, looking at me the same way I look at worms…disgustedly. I confirmed his statement, and just felt the judgment around the courtroom escalate to a high temperature of guilt that I shouldn’t have felt because I knew I wasn’t guilty. Hearing the cries of the mother, sitting by the table next to me didn’t exactly help. Neither did the deadly glare of the father. It only made my anxiety of the situation worse. I was alone versus the whole building. No parents, no defense, no nothing. They only had my word for it, and that was about it. -Well, in that case I have to tell you young man that you are in a really precarious state. Your testimony doesn’t really add up to anything…the laboratory confirmed that the bruises around the neck of the poor girl match up with your prints, which doesn’t really look that good, now does it? I am willing to work on something here, but if you are insisting on your version of the story and not confess about your crime, I have no other choice but to serve my final word.… - said the old man in a sigh. What was he expecting of me? To accept that I’ve done something that I haven’t? That would be beyond stupid. But my state didn’t even allow me to do anything at this point because the evidence of my past endeavors didn’t really help me. I was certain there was something fishy around here…actually, not even that stinky, it was plain bullshit from the start. I hadn’t touched the girl with my finger, let alone choke her to death. It was a complete and utter frame if you ask me, yet… my powerless state of defenselessness was…well overwhelmingly low. When I was truly innocent at the moment, I didn’t have back-up, which was really…really harsh. If my parents were here, they could’ve hired a lawyer and maybe then I would have a solid basis, in oppose to now where I only had myself to defend me…and seeing as I was a drug addict at that point, I wasn’t taken seriously due to the fact I was more of a trash than the bins filed with them. I hopelessly looked around…to no avail. All the side jury were voting for my guilt…and honestly, that felt really heavy on me…to the point I nearly convinced myself that I was the villain here. “That was it”, I was about to be sentenced in jail until the end of my life. -Edmund Slype, you leave me no choice. You are sentenced to twenty years imprisonment in the state penitentiary “Saint Marry”. – echoed the voice of the judge as he smashed the hammer on the wooden pad. I couldn’t do anything. Just saw the guards help me get up and escort me to the car that was going to lead me to the penitentiary. Moving was now systematic, I was doing in on instinct and wasn’t thinking about it. It was mainly a process I did because I had to, but was mainly thinking about the rest of my life, knowing I was going to probably end up dead in that prison. Just then, in front of me, I watched the people leave the court. One man seemed familiar…a bit higher than the rest…wearing a fedora. My body then kicked in overdrive. I started running yet failed flat due to the chains of the cuffs. The guards started railing me with shots using their bats, while I watched and yelled at that man, who didn’t even look back. Fifteen Years Later. Looking at the mirror, I am minutes from leaving this place. I can barely recognize my eyes…because the flame hiding behind the blue frame was brighter than the color it originally had. The strife to gain my revenge on that man…to serve him the same plate as mine, to gruesomely end his life…the way he did it to me, was merely a slight portion of the fire that was burning inside me. I was ready now…older, stronger and wiser than the old me. I might’ve done some stupid shit when I was young, but that was going to change as soon as I was free from the restrains of prison. I was going to find that guy, and make him suffer, the way I did. Make him feel the pain I felt. My soul was going to condemn him to death, the same way I was condemned and framed. -Volume Final- [Seven-Day Sinner] Day 1. Emmet struggled opening his eyes…but once he did, he suffered the pain of having to face the day light in his face after a long night of sleep. Well, it wasn’t exactly a comfortable sleep, but in a way, it did feel somewhat nice. He tried moving to the other side of the bed, to no avail. A crippling sensation of awareness finally started to creep in, as he was trying hopelessly to move. -Don’t fidget like that or your hands are gonna rip! – echoed a low and authority like voice. The young adult looked around, but the only thing he could see…is a blank spot in his memory. How did he get there? Why was he restrained? Where was he?! All questions a person would normally think of. He tried moving one more time and this time his hand did indeed rip from the bolt that was drilled right in the middle. It was devastatingly painful… -I told you not to do it…- once again resounded the same voice. Emmet began breathing quicker, trying to forge some kind of explanation to this nightmarish scenario he was involved with. The more he looked though, he felt sicker and sicker. He wasn’t just attached to some bed or something like that, no. He was hanging in the air…drilled to some metal looking cross, similar to the one Christ is depicted on. The main thing was that his didn’t have sharp looking spikes that poked his back dangerously close. His feet were also drilled, together to the starting point of the crucifix. All his limbs were basically restrained from moving…not that he had somewhere to go. Finally, as he deducted quite professionally, he started looking for the source of the remarks. -Over here buddy…- helped the disembodied voice. The man Emmet saw…was no older than he. Maybe thirty-ish? His bald head shined from the sun, while his blue eyes stared deadly at the poor bastard. Something felt wrong about him. Was it that he wasn’t wearing some sort of concealing thing over his face? That meant that either he was going to kill him…or torture him until someone pays him. -Who are you? – muttered Emmet with the strength he had. The bald man nodded to himself, and sat on a backwards chair facing him. He smirked, which showed his somewhat white teeth. The deep wrinkle in his forehead either explained the hardships he went through, or the stress he was covering up. -I am not really important…but, for you to understand the picture, I shall explain. Firstly, my name is Edmund Slype. Ring a bell? – asked the middle-aged guy looking at Emmet fiercely. He tried thinking of someone he knew that was called Edmund, but nothing actually stung. -Well, alright then, let me clear your head. Remember sixteen years ago…when you, and your right-hand man dumped a dead girl in the backlot of McDonald's? Just where a drugged me was hanging out at? This time Edmund looked at him, with all the hatred in the world. Emmet as much as possible, tried, tried his best to overlook the pain and remember. -That same guy, who then got blamed for the murder of Eleonora Parker, your lover at that time…THE SAME GUY…WHO WAS IN PRISON FOR THE LAST FIFTEEN YEARS! – he said raising his voice for the first time. Emmet didn’t have a choice. The torturer had gotten up and placed his hand onto his shoulder, pushing him towards the spikes. The thing that reminded him, of Edmund, wasn’t his anger at him, nor the thunderous pain but because of sweet Eleonora. His mind finally connected the dots. That was the guy, who got framed for his crime. “Jesus…”- he thought, looking at his rage. His back was being stabbed at the tip of the spikes when he yelled at him. -I remember, I remember! You were the guy who got sentenced to twenty years! I know you! – cried out Emmet. Edmund smirked again and sat on his chair once again. -Okay, we have some sort of progress over here. You know me, you know how I got in prison, you know now, that I have been released…What you still don’t know, is why you are here, how you got here…and what am I going to do to you…right? – asked the man looking at Emmet with a grin on his muzzle. He answered that he was correct. -What are you gonna do to me? – he managed to stutter and ask. Edmund “hmm-ed” and sarcastically looked at the ceiling. -What indeed am I going to do with you? Hmm, well, for starters, I am going to explain how you got here, just because I don’t want you to die out of curiosity, not knowing how in the hell did you end up crucified to this large and beautiful metal cross. Edmund let the man process what he said, and seeing he wasn’t going to verbally response with anything, he proceeded. -Well. One year ago, I was released out of prison. My first task was to find you. At that was simple because we lived in the same city. For starters I had to pitch in some money for my future endeavors so I started work at a local café. It wasn’t hard being a barista, serving coffee, flirting with young chicks and that deal…but it wasn’t really fulfilling. I mean, I was a drug addict for quite a while, but after prison, or, in it, I got out of the habit and started clean, which in a way left something like a desire to find a new hobby. And that hobby was clearer than ever, when you, out of all people entered the café one day and sat on the far-right side of the room overlooking the street from the windows. Then, I knew that I had one way in taking you without someone else noticing. First, I had to note your schedule and how you traveled and did things. Second, I had to figure out a way for me to abduct you, without starting any suspicions. Third, I had to find some sort of place for me to do my things with you. All were quite accomplish-able. I had to ask some people for help, but in the end, I found a place thanks to a buddy of mine from way back. This house we are in, is at an isolated small island Vinalhaven, Maine. It’s mostly a cabin though, knowing that it’s a resort for a family that come here in the summer. The guy told me I could use it for the time being, knowing they weren’t gonna visit in some months. I could ask my parents as well, for some kind of old house or something, but they haven’t talked to me since I was nineteen, so I guess that’s a no-go. Either way, I kind of figured out your schedule. Coffee at 9 o’clock, and launch at 12. The easiest part was drugging you and making you sleep. Then it was kind of hard for me to frag your unconscious body to the back of the shop, where the escape car was. The harder part was actually crucifying you alone, because man you are something else when you are knocked out. So, that’s what it was. If you thought the coffee tasted somewhat tingly, it was thanks to the double extra effective sleeping pills I sneaked in before giving it to you. So. That leaves us with the question…what are you going to do here…or to paraphrase, what am I gonna do with you? – elaborated the tormentor, looking at Emmet with a slight note of affection mixed with detest. Emmet was barely listening to his whole explanation about how he schemed the plan to bring him here. What he learned was the key to understanding it all, because he now knew how he got here and where he was located at. Now he could use it, as info in when he is negotiating for a release price. If it came to that at least. Seeing the burning fire in the eyes of Edmund, Emmet didn’t really feel that it was the right time to say anything about paying his way out, considering that it was the same way he got out of trouble so many years ago…with bribe. -This…This isn’t just about revenge isn’t it?! You want something from me? – asked Emmet, trying to find the right words. Edmund rose instantly from the chair and kicked it. -IT IS ALL ABOUT REVENGE! – he yelled, then tried to keep his voice in tack, - You are right howsoever. I do need something from you…- he said and walked off from the view that Emmet could see. -What do you need? I can help you financially! I have the money! – pleaded the man, knowing he wasn’t going to end up alive after all. Just as he guessed, something did happen. From where the holes in his hands were, something like a rope attached to the bolts started pulling him back. One around the torso, and on his feet as well. It was tight, and its pull force was enough to fully extend his body to the limit, where the spikes were now to the middle of their length. His whole back side of the body, legs and hands and all, were now spiked in. -The same money, you used to bribe the damn judge to give me a sentence? Or the same money you used to control everything you needed? No…my friend. I don’t need your money. What I need is your soul to leave your heart, and for you to beg when I finish you off. I didn’t just build this large piece of architectural punishment, just for you to pay your way out of it…oh no. You are going to bleed. You are going to bleed a lot, my friend…to the extend when you no longer have a single drop of your blood in your veins. To the point where you are going to be begging me to fucking end your bullshit of a life! – said the man and pulled the ropes again. His body looked like a painting from the best horror writer ever. A mixture of blue from the bruises and a bright red from the sweet blood that was dripping from the gaping holes that were ever extending by the spikes that penetrated him smoothly. His cries felt like fluent harmonies of the dying man, that filled the ears of Edmund, who was enjoying each and every moment of this charade. They stopped somewhere in between, and he learned that he was unconscious again. Day 2. A day had passed since the big explanation, and now it was mostly action time. Emmet was sleeping once again…but Edmund had better plans. This whole idea in his head was formed by the fact that he, Emmet, and his mother went to church quite a lot, yet, when it came to repent for his sins, he chose to…back away from his faith. Which was the whole inspiration of Edmund to build this massive structure that height at least eight feet. It did take some time, but, in the end…it was worth it. The idea, was that, the seven days that god took to create the world, was going to be the exact number of days Edmund was going to take to inflict as much as punishment to this garbage as possible. The first day was the spike stabbing…today, he had something more engaging. First, he had to wake him up. Splashing him with cold water, Emmet woke up with a scream to pierce your drums. -Good morning to you too! – shouted Edmund while he was fixing his ears…, - Damn you can scream loudly…that’s alright. Emmet didn’t even say anything. Breathing heavily like before, he was only staring at the object in Edmund's hand. -Oh this? – he looked at the sledgehammer, - Don’t worry about it for now…enjoy the time when I haven’t yet stricken you with it. Emmet’s eyes were watering, looking at his punisher with the most regret he ever had. -I am really sorry…Please don’t! – he asked with the most respect and sorrow in his voice. Edmund was a bit surprised. -Oh wow…Thinking you were gonna start whining and making some attempts in repentance fat later in this course. I guess this cancels out everything you’ve done now, huh? I guess I don’t have to hurt you anymore now that you’ve apologized – he murmured to himself. -Please…don’t do it…don’t hurt me…- once again pleaded the man. A swung…and a huge struck followed. Edmund didn’t even feel the grief in his tone. -Nooo! – cried Emmet, knowing his feet were now broken. He couldn’t feel them, but the pain from the hit was enough to make him surrender. -YOU THINK THOSE WORDS CAN STOP A MAN FROM RAPING YOU?! – asked Edmund, taking another shot with the massive hammer, - You think I didn’t yell and plead for someone to help me when they were beating me up, because they thought I had raped a girl!? DO YOU IN THE RIGHT MIND, BELIEVE I AM GOING TO LET YOU GET AWAY FROM TAKING FIFTEEN YEARS, FIFTEEN YEARS OF MY LIFE! – screamed the man, while hitting him again at the same spot! Emmet was completely done. Screaming, crying, even pissing himself out of the damage he was feeling. -NO, NO! I DON’T, PLEASE STOP! Edmund smirked…knowing those words from before. -You know…I haven’t enjoyed something like this since I did heroin. The sensation of pure pleasure isn’t nearly as tasty as to what I am doing now! Plus, the side effects of vomiting aren’t here. You know…what would happen if I didn’t do drugs, but killed some fucking douchebags like you, hm? Do you reckon my parents would disown me again and leave me like a damn raccoon to find me some food?! – said the man in a rapid fashion. Emmet only cried…cried and begged for him to stop. That didn’t please him. Once again, a strike to the feet. The bones crackled and broke to the point of no return. There wasn’t a way for them to heal before, but now it was just awful. The dark bruises made Emmet black out himself from the final blow. Edmund dropped the hammer and went to have a beer in the other room. Day 3. -This is the third day my friend…and you don’t seem to give up quite yet, huh? – asked the tortured, looking at Emmet. His lips were chapped, and his feet not even responsive anymore. He looked like he had suffered so many years, while it has been only two days. Well…plenty more to break his spirit. -Do you wish to…umm, change something in your body? – asked Edmund, looking at his barely opened eyes. Not waiting for an answer, he took a sharp looking knife, the ones used by the army, and made a small cut. The pain of it woke him up completely. -No, no, no! Please don’t use a knife, please, anything but that! – he yelled, sounding like a girl more as each day passed. Edmund was yet again surprised. -Are you afraid of sharp cutting utensils? The crucified man nodded as much as he could, and hoped for him not to feel the pain of being slashed. Edmund then traced his body and stopped to where a medium scar near the forearm was located. -Is this why you are afraid…aww…I guess you’ve been using plastic knifes from that little accident. Emmet confirmed which made his abductor happier. -Well, if that’s the case, of course I won’t stop…What do you take me for, some kind of shmuck? – he laughed and made a cut where his previous scar was. The man again yelled, feeling the cold steel enter and leave him quickly. The droplets of blood quickly formed to a concerning stream. -Oh, we are not done yet! – giggled Edmund, having the fun of his life. He circled the point of the knife, around the chest and carved out some of his skin, that resembled a circle. When he showed him his creation, Emmet again, logged out of his brain and went to sleep, leaving Edmund alone. -Well that was anticlimactic. Shame on you! – he said annoyed and did a couple of cuts to his legs before heading towards the shore to swim for a bit. Day 4. After the pulling, hammering and cutting, he had something else in mind. He was going to start right at night, midnight to be exact, and torture him as much as possible…unless he gave away to his stupidly timed blackouts. It started simple. He was going to heat up the cross…while he was still asleep. Emmet didn’t even feel it coming, because, well because he was out of it. But once his skin started feeling the steam coming out of the spikes that were still in his back, he woke up. -What’s happening! – he shouted, - Am I burning?! -Kind of, just not you! – answered Edmund, chuckling at the response of Emmet. The back of the crucifix was now hot red, thanks to the heating torch. It was quite big, but it did the job. It kind of felt like a barbecue, though with a human shish-kebab. He was spreading the heat outtake to the surface of the cross itself, making so that the man, suffer from each side, not just the same spot. -DON’T! – he implored like a madman. Emmet tried pulling himself out of the spikes and the drilled bolts in his hands, but didn’t do anything. The much he could possible do was tear his hands out and bleed from the wounds of the back. Edmund observed his skin getting redder and redder with mere seconds spends on the heat of the torch and cross. His growls didn’t help much, only worsened the damage. Large blisters started forming on the shoulders, while his face was hotter than pavement on a sunny day. His feet were probably harmless, but the upper legs were still untouched by hammer, which made the burning of the cuts from the previous day even stingier. -Please!!! - he asked with a guttural yell. That itself was music to the ears for Edmund, but he figured, that if he was ready to confirm that he wants to die, he should stop for a bit. Turning off the torch, he approached the front and asked him if he wants to say something. -It burns…it hurts…. water…. please it burns! – he managed to say in the heat of the conversation. Rolling his eyes Edmund took the bucket with icy water, remembering that he brought it just in case he actually has to cease the torment. Without warning he threw the water at him. Emmet felt blessed yet cursed at the same time. The fire that was causing his body to burn was stronger, though, with the addition of the icy water it regained some sort of comfort, enough to make him sleep again. -Curse! – shouted Edmund throwing the bucket at the cross…. Day 5. The next day, Emmet woke up quite tired. The blisters on his back were pulsating from the heat…his feet weren’t hurting anymore, yet each second the pain of the broken bones was terrible. The cuts on the upper thighs and torso were gushing out pus. The spikes in his back were still achingly hurting. Overall, he was pathetically obliterated, not fully, but still quite conquered. Looking around, not feeling his breath anymore, he tried yelling, or something along those lines. Nothing came out. Nothing. His mouth had no flavor, and his teeth were hurting from the immense jaw grip he was persistently tightening in intense painful moments. His lips were so chapped that he could cut his tongue on them. At least it was moving freely and could create some saliva…God he was thirsty. It was impossible to receive any food or drinks at this point. Edmund would even consider hearing out his plead. The only thing that could save him…was him asking for help…in a way of Edmund killing him. But…did he truly want that? Was he really okay dying here, alone…with no one to see him except his murderer? No. There really wasn’t much he could do now though, considering his situation. He could only hang on the cross…and endure the punishment…or die doing it. -I see you are awake! Great. We can start with you actually being conscious to feel something! – exclaimed Edmund, energetically walking towards Emmet with a bucket of something. -Can you please give me water? – asked the man with the last strength he had. It didn’t even sound decipherable, it was pure gibberish. Edmund was perfectly okay with that. -You know what, ama’ do you one better! – he said and walked towards the back of the cross. He placed the bucket on his chest, exactly at the circle wound gushing with pus, and tucked the belt connected to the bucket to the back of the cross. He tapped on it, and Emmet felt something touching him. Small paws…rodent like. They were tiny, tickling and making the wound hurt. -Now…you shall not receive meal or liquid, because this little mouse I found in the island is far more deserving of having some food! – he said, directly looking at his eyes, widened from terror. Using the torch from yesterday, Edmund started igniting the back of the bucket. The mouse inside started squeaking in a high pitch that sounded horrible to both men’s ears. The one igniting the bucket was happy, while the other was not sure if he should try to move and hope that the mouse doesn’t go ape shit and go through his gaping chest wound. His prayers didn’t work. The bucket was bright red, and the rodent wasn’t having it. Squeaking like hell, it started eating its way out of that hot prison, by devouring the exposed flesh and muscles of the wound made two days ago. The visceral low growls of Emmet could shame even the best black metal vocalist…yet he wasn’t doing it to show off. He was feeling the sensation of having a mouse eat him…while still alive. A maleficent smell started spreading from behind him…It was about time, really. -You know, you could see me commiserating before, watching a man getting eaten alive, such filth…but, not now… - whispered Edmund, watching the eyes of Emmet nearly popping out from the shock. The tormentor wanted more…wanted to hear the words out of his mouth, not just feel them. Stopping the torch, he went back and untucked the belt, which freed the mouse from its inferno like moment. The moment he had, he used it to run like his life depended on it. The act kind of proved that the hunter had some sort of humanity still left in him…Emmet on the other hand, like usual, had blacked out… Day 6. Today Edmund had a plan. He wanted to use it on the final day, but he guessed that this sixth punishment was far more brutal. He had taken a pill, energy inducing pill. He was going to let Emmet drink some water, mixed with the pill…and well, entertain himself. Once the confined man was given the opportunity to drink something, he was more awake than ever. Drinking like an elephant, he drank a whole a liter of water. The drug then kicked in…and Edmund was ready to do the next procedure. He opened the hatch on the ceiling and revealed the…sun. He then titled the cross on the mechanism so that Emmet was fully exposed to the sun bath. One whole day had done such damage to his body. The gaping chunks of flesh on the chest were gruesome enough to make faint-heart vomit, but the pus coming from all wounds was just disgusting at this point. Wasn’t it going to be much easier for Emmet to give up? Yes…yes because the final thing…the final punishment was going to literally take his sight. Emmet didn’t know what was going on, so he remained tense even when Edmund wasn’t there. He stared at the sun and enjoyed it…until it didn’t feel normal. It was getting…way too hot. Edmund wasn’t even there to do anything…. He was laying on the beach and was reading a book he bought last week. It was about a sailor lost in the sea and was quite interesting to say the least. Emmet on the other hand wasn’t interested at all. Struggling to cope with the burning rays of the sun, he endured as much as he could. Not only did his skin start to fry up, but the wounds of the cuts started bleeding all over again. Did he even have blood anymore? Guess he did. He didn’t have a choice but to either stare and blind himself or close his eyes and sleep…for some reason though, he wasn’t sleepy like before. Even worse, he was quite energetic and wanted to…do be awake and do fun activities. Why?! He knew Edmund had done something, but he didn’t know what exactly. Did the sun have some sort of recreational powers? Superman used the sun to get stronger but Emmet was no superhero. He was plainly a man, a business man, who dealt with threats the paper way. Buy them in…he couldn’t buy Edmund in however…he could only beg him to release him…or beg him to kill him. Which was the thing that the torturer wanted. To kill him, and end this once and for all. A plan that started ever since he saw the man with the fedora walking away during his trial. Ever since his first assault in jail. Since the time he was only twenty. A plan to destroy a person. That proved true. Emmet had no choice but to finally give in to the wish of his abductor. He was nowhere to be seen though. The young adult, left alone to fry in the sun light, making him reminisce of the days where he was free and could do anything. Making him burn from the most natural thing ever. Exposing his already deformed body to the light rays of the light. That was the cruelest punishment he could endure…if he could endure it though, because staying all day in this light…would harm even the healthiest man in the world, and he wasn’t exactly in perfect condition to do anything but count. Pass by the numbers and seconds of the minutes in the hours left in the clock for him to feel something different than the heat of the sun. 1…2…3…4, the hours passed slowly. Never in his mind did he think, he was going to dream for the sun to die. In a way, he was counting for his last time when he was alive…he was having the last “Day of Reckoning”, of his life. Day 7. Once Edmund got closer to the cross, he could feel it was permeating with heat and smell. The heat was understandable, but the putrid smell was purely logical, yet unwelcome. Emmet had completely dissolved into a crispy and fried, crucified, human-steak. His hair was nearly burnt, his skin red and covered in pus, blood and some form of mold he couldn’t even understand. The backside was gruesome to the point of no detail…but the spikes had delved so deep in his back that the wounds looked like a distorted confiture. Edmund covered the hatch and closed the ceiling window, bringing the solitary darkness the premises was famous for. -Mornin’ – he greeted the man, who looked nearly dead. If it wasn’t for the barely breathing heart that was nearly invisible to spot, Edmund would’ve thought he was already dead. But hopefully, he still had some sort of energy in him to breathe. -You know, I was thinking back at the beach that this thing we did here…this festival of horridly painful punishments, was quite amusing for me, and hopefully, really painful for you. My point being, that we had a blast…and did enjoy ourselves to the upmost extend there is…of course not the same kind of enjoyment, but still oddly similar. But I guess what I'm trying to say, is that this parade is going to finish with the biggest bang ever. You are going to close the curtains of this beautiful theater, by dying – said Edmund, looking at the disfigured mess. His face wasn’t even close to what it once was. His cheeks were sunken deep, his eyes were red from tears and screams. The lips once chopped were now entirely opened, bleeding as if a wound. Not to mention the body which…well, which was completely wrecked. -There are two things that keep me still from mercilessly killing you, - continued Edmund, seeing as Emmet wasn’t able to talk anymore, - One being a question. Why did you kill that girl so many years ago? I just want to know that – asked Edmund, trying to see behind the blackness of his iris. Emmet struggled to move his lips, as his face was covered in burns, but he eventually managed to spill one word. -…. fun… Edmund remained as calm as before, yet something in him ticked. Fun. What was so fun in killing an innocent girl, he didn’t know, what he knew was something entirely different. -Funny you should say that, - he whispered to him, taking the utensil from the back pocket of the jeans, - I am also doing this because it’s fun to torture a guilty man, yet, purely out of revenge I am willing to ask you to end your life, or I shall continue to make your life miserable, more than it already is – he said, holding a spoon to his face. Emmet’s eyes opened fully, which made him flinch from pain. He didn’t know what he was about to do for sure, yet had a certain idea. He wanted to tell him what he wanted to hear, yet didn’t have the strength. -Well then, I shall continue with this punishment – announced the mad lad and brought the spoon closer to the left eye of the poor soul. -I…. - said Emmet, stopping him. Edmund watched his eyes water for the countless time this week, yet…the dread behind them had drawn such a gruesome art…that Edmund himself kind of felt bad for the man, yet hated him to his core. Awaiting his response, he didn’t move at all. -I… want… to… die… - whispered Emmet with a low and raspy from the pain voice. Edmund didn’t say much. He placed the spoon on the ground and went back to the cross. A man of his word, the torturer was going to claim his soul. Emmet was finally ready, while the other man was more than enthusiastic of the future than ever. Pulling the break crank on the mechanism of the cross, he pushed it forwards harshly. The large construction plunged towards the ground along with Emmet, bolted to it. Managing to close his eyes for the final time while being alive, he held his breath awaiting impact. The crucifix landed and collided with the ground, causing the spikes to crush everything in his body to crumbs. A still living portion of blood splashed like a mosquito on a wall. Edmund stared at it, and felt…freedom rising in his heart for the first time in fifteen years. The blood that tainted his groove for such a bitterly long time. He was done, no more chasing…no more endless aching for revenge. It was served, and finished. Justice was established. And he was happy to have gotten rid of a stain in the world. Thinking of his plans for the coming days he went by the beach again, and sat on the hot sand. A nice day. A pleasant day. Fresh air was filling his heavy breathing lungs. Edmund couldn’t ask for more. He wasn’t the villain in this story, as much as it looked like he was. Thinking of that, he closed his eyes and laid there, enjoying the moment. The moment of having condemned a sinner, to a seven-day death. A day in his life, where judgement was equally spread.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorHello, this is Nedyalko Delchev, or Black Wing. I’m a writer and currently 25-years old. One of my dreams is to publish a book and impact the world! Until then, I will be posting all kind of contend on my Story Book! Archives
September 2023
Categories |