Horror Fiction - Abyss

Abyss

By Casey Douglass

..When you gaze long into an abyss the abyss also gazes into you. - Friedrich Nietzsche

8th February 2011 : 6:21pm

I’ve started this blog/diary as Mick suggested it might help with my insomnia. He said getting your thoughts and fears down can really help relax your mind, and after googling it to see if he was pulling my leg, here I am. The How-To pages say to start with a description of myself, which seems a little odd, although might come in handy one day. You never know, civilization could end, and thousands of years later some new race might emerge, find my diary and think “This Eugene guy was clearly a king among men, we’d better bring him back to life!” Oh, I suppose I’ve started my introduction without meaning to. Maybe there is something I need to get down if this is so easy. As you probably guessed, my name is Eu

9^th February 2011 : 01:16am

Fucking computer! Bloody thing blue screened on me then wouldn’t boot. Three attempts to reinstall Windows and its still buggy, think the hard drive is on the way out, S.M.A.R.T was giving some failure codes, but not each time. Will have to “acquire” one from work.

10^th February 2011 : 7:02pm

Finally got my computer sorted, and had some luck, found a nice quick 10,000rpm drive at work that had been “forgotten” about.

So as I was saying, my name is Eugene, I’m 36, male, and live just outside London in a crummy flat with tossers living all around me. I added that last bit as without it, this just sounds like a sad dating profile waiting to be spammed to dating websites in the hope some pretty girl might see it and think “ooh he sounds nice, he’d get it!”

Hmm. Is it too late to delete that tossers bit now? The guides say not to censor yourself so I’ll leave it in I think. If you couldn’t already guess, I work in the I.T department of a fairly large company. It might sound glamorous but it really isn’t. It’s the sort of company that has a budget for I.T about the same size as the tea and biscuit kitty, so I often find myself working alone against the odds.

They treat me like a troll. I’m overworked, under valued and still expected to perform tech miracles, even if the problem is pebkac (problem exists between keyboard and chair). My social life is nil, my interests are playing games, tinkering with gadgets and going to the cinema. I haven’t slept for six days now, oh and I fucking hate my life!

11^th February 2011 : 8:12am

Took a day off writing yesterday as I was getting annoyed as I wrote, seemed a big waste of time. I saw Mick at lunch though and he said it was a good sign, I was making progress if I was getting worked up. Mick is the typical janitor stereotype that Hollywood loves. Outwardly he mops floors and smells like urinal cakes, but anyone who knows him finds he is probably the smartest guy in the building, a big reader, philosopher and all-round nice guy who just likes a menial job. I think he had some kind of breakdown a few years ago and just decided life wasn’t worth living if you made yourself ill with stress. Oh, and he's a bit of a porno freak, if you tell him what you like, he emails you a list of about fifty links by the end of the working day. He's like the Columbo of porn, if it’s out there, he’ll find it. Sometimes he enjoys telling you how he found it and what tricks he used along the way. Interesting but usually long winded. But as I said, an all round good guy.

Mick is probably my only friend, which is both sad and probably telling about the kind of person I am. I guess I gravitate to loners and other down trodden individuals. Saying that, there is a lovely girl on the executive floor, Suzy, a secretary to Mr. Jones, but she doesn’t know I exist. What would I say to her if I saw her? “Hi, fancy going out with me?” “Who are you?” “I fixed your computer once” “Oh...” Nightmare. I look into my mirror and see an ugly nerdy looking bloke with fat cheeks, pale skin and a permanently pained expression which I cant seem to shift (really, I found a book about building up your face muscles and getting them to settle into a new expression, but all it did was make me look like I'd sat on a drawing pin for a few days. Mick called me Pob, after the 80's kids TV character. He found it hilarious.) That’s enough for today. Actually, fuck this in general.

14^th February 2011 : 4:15pm

Still not sleeping so I’m back again. What else can I do? I spent most of last night watching the horror channel. I know that sounds weird but it used to send me to sleep easily, if I had the volume turned low enough. I’ve always liked horror, and films I’ve seen a few times in a row just become relaxation to me. Left work early, nothing needed doing, so thought Id slip out. No one would have noticed anyway.

15^th February 2011 : 9:01am

They fucking noticed! Whole network went down at 4:30pm. Got a written warning this time. I’m starting to not care any more. I briefly envisaged roaming the hallways dual wielding two Uzi’s, striking a blow for all geeks everywhere (has an I.T guy ever gone postal?) but thought better of it, two Uzi’s would be a total arsehole to find...and I’m no killer.

16^th February 2011: 12:15pm

Saw Suzy today. I got a phone call that her PC wasn’t working, so after thanking my lucky stars I rushed up to Jones' office. She stood near the window looking down on London, the sunlight highlighting her figure against the blinds. I said I was from the I.T department and asked her what was wrong with it. She told me it wouldn’t boot, it just kept beeping. I sat in her chair, it was still warm so she hadn’t been standing long. I enjoyed the brief contact, even if it was just a fantasy linking me and her via the chair.

The PC problem was nothing major, a failed update that had caused a booting loop, not her fault at all. I wouldn’t have been annoyed if it had been her fault, she could stamp on my heart and Id forgive her. Every other twat in the building was another story. You could give them a pristine PC, secure and running 100% smoothly, and within 20 minutes you’d have to wrestle it from them and take it outside to burn before it infected the whole building. How they find the virii and trojans they do is a mystery to me. Some I haven’t even seen for a decade, and would be hard to infect my own computer with, even trying to intentionally. Morons, the lot of them. Except her.

While I sat at her PC, my eyes went blurry, the lack of sleep started to drag me under again. I was surprised, she asked if I was OK! I looked at her open mouthed before saying I hadn’t been sleeping. She said “Aww” and I felt my heart leap. I thought fuck it and I asked her out. She was silent for 7 seconds (I counted, it kept me from passing out) before she said I wasn’t her type, she liked manly men. I just nodded like a toy you see in the rear window of a car and told her the PC was fixed. As I left her office, I texted Mick.

17^th February 2011 : 8:02am

Just emailed Mick to thank him for the list, the guy is a pervy genius. Still didn’t sleep though. I’m not going in today, called the human resources lady, a nice old dear on the outside but a total bitch on the inside, and told her I had a virus. She laughed and said how ironic! These people.

2:12pm

Daytime TV...Jesus Christ! How I am still awake I can’t imagine.

4:20pm

Been surfing the net. You find some daft websites when you are sleep deprived. I spent ten minutes thinking the teletubbies had caught something nasty making their skin go funny with white blotches, but turned out I was on the jelly baby website. Id laugh if I had the energy. I’m sticking to tech forums now, it seems to be the only area I can still think properly in. Maybe it's habit or just over familiaryness I don’t know. Familiaryness? Fuck me.

8:01pm

Got something stuck in my mind now. Think it’s the fatigue but anyway, it’s there churning around now. I was on a tech site and someone was asking about dusting inside the PC. Some nerd who thought he was being funny warned him about not looking inside, lest the PC look into you. It set me thinking as it sounded familiar. A few mins later I found out what it was. He’d bastardized the classic Nietzsche quote “..when you gaze long into an abyss the abyss also gazes into you.” Why it’s stuck in my head I don’t know. I can remember liking that quote before when I first came across it, sounded creepy. Don’t know what an abyss would see if it looked into me, it would probably need somewhere to go where it could lay on a couch and tell a psychologist about how terrible it was, and it didn’t think the saying “when you gaze long into a nerd the nerd also gazes into you” meant anything until that day, and how it suddenly had a strange craving for Chinese food and something called World of Warcraft.

18^th February 2011 : 6:01am

I slept! Absolutely smashing! The dark rings around my eyes are fainter today and I don’t feel so spaced out. Maybe a day off was what I needed. Think I’ll bunk off again today and it’s the weekend tomorrow, I need to catch up on some more sleep.

19^th February 2011 : 11:30am

And again! Another good sleep and it felt so good to wake up feeling relaxed for a change. That abyss thing is still on my mind. I can tell because I dreamt about it. I was on some big farm, harvested corn fields stretching every direction and a typical American style barn and farmhouse. A farmer in a straw hat stood at the door of the barn and I walked over and asked where the abyss was. I’ve no idea why, but he took me to the rear of the barn and pointed at a dark hole in the ground about the size of a dinner plate. I looked at him and he nodded. I could see the bottom of the hole, it wasn’t very deep. I remember feeling disappointed and then I woke up. Why was I looking for an abyss?

21^st February 2011 : 4:37pm

Work was OK today, nothing really happened, no disasters anyway. Mick asked how the diary was going, I said I'd managed to sleep and he was happy for me. I did mention the abyss stuff and he laughed, but said maybe my mind was using it to help me heal psychologically. I asked him to heal what? He just shrugged and said who knows how the mind works and why it does what it does. He suggested that maybe I'd lost my purpose in life and my mind was showing me that I needed one to drive myself. We spoke a little about what looking into an abyss might be like and he said probably very boring, it would just be a big space with nothing in it. We both agreed that it probably wouldn’t be dangerous, even if it existed. I’m not bothered that it's on my mind so much, maybe its what’s helping me stay relaxed, who knows.

22^nd February 2011 : 6:58am

Another abyss hunting dream. I was on some kind of spaceship orbiting a planet. I was sat at a computer screen and it occurred to me to search for “abyss”. It spat out a list of coordinates and finding myself the captain, I ordered a course be set in classic star trek fashion, while the sexy first mate lady sat on my lap, which wasn’t very star trek but most enjoyable. It might have been Suzy, but I cant remember. I remember the planet we arrived at had a large hole punched all the way through to the other side. Hovering near it, I could see all the way through to the stars behind it. I shook my head, it wasn’t much of an abyss, but I made them fly the ship through it for shits anyway. Freudian symbolism? Flying a big, long spaceship through a hole? Maybe I just need to get laid.

23^rd February 2011 : 5:34pm

Didn’t write yesterday and then didn’t sleep a wink last night. Damn it. Maybe Mick was more right than he suspected about this diary stuff. Did have a strange thing happen at work though. I had to check some network cabling on the floor above and found that there was no slack in the cable when I knew there should be plenty. I opened a panel on the floor expecting to see a snagged cable but all I saw was a dark hole, the bits of multicoloured cable snaking into it and out of sight. I shivered as I reached my hand into the darkness, groping along the rubber cords. I had thoughts of the abyss cross my mind and quickly withdrew my hand. I sat back on the floor and caught my breath, I hadn’t realised I was holding it. An icy sweat was on my brow and I felt my limbs shaking a little. The other people walking and working around me carried on oblivious to my presence, which was nothing new. I found my left hand was placed partly over a trailing cable on the floor. I gently tugged at it. It moved easily. I leant forward on my hands and knees again and looked into the access tube. It looked lighter. I could see the cables stretching away to about an arms length before they met the tract underneath and split into different directions. I closed the hatch and Allen keyed it shut. I’m losing my mind again.

24^th February 2011 : 3:16am

Still no sleep, and my mind is still consumed with thoughts of the abyss. I have no idea why. I know that the full quote from Nietzsche references monsters, and the abyss is the idea that if you fight monsters, be careful you don’t become one yourself, so why is my mind treating the abyss like some kind of literal place I can go? I am, I think, dealing with thoughts of self annihilation, that’s the only thing that seems to fit with what’s happening. Or maybe the monsters bit could mean “if you work with idiots, you’ll become one.” Maybe my mind is trying to prevent me from turning into a noob?

4:20am

Dozed off at my PC, woke up with my face pressed on the keyboard. Another abyss dream, but can only remember fragments, maybe due to the odd sleeping position? I remember smoke and the feeling of being high up with a large space around me. Nothing explicitly said “abyss” to me but I’m certain it was another dream in that vein. For even an hours sleep though, I’ll take it, even if I have the worst nightmares imaginable, I’ll take it. I can't go back to not sleeping again, I just can't!

25^th February 2011 : 4:52pm

Work was shit today. I found out that Suzy had mentioned I’d asked her out to some of her friends. When I went up to sort out someone’s infected computer, they were all giggling and winking at each other. Just great. That stuff about forgiving her for anything earlier? That bird has just flown.

28^th February 2011 : 1:02am

Slept reasonably until now. Something woke me up and I have no idea what it was. I am so wide awake now that I keep forgetting to blink. Hopefully I can get back to sleep after a bit of surfing the web, then back to bed to stare at the ceiling again no doubt. Maybe I should get a poster up there, a nice one of Gillian Anderson would be just the ticket.

5:01am

I found the abyss! My hands are shaking but I can just about type. It was a dream in which I knew I was dreaming. I was in a wooden shack in some kind of forest. It was getting dark outside and the wind was starting to pick up debris and throw it against the wooden walls. I tried to open the door but it was locked somehow. The wind became even stronger and started to rock the feeble structure, the roof groaning under the strain. I struggled with the door latch again but it wouldn’t even wobble.

I felt myself becoming angry. Days of no sleep and strange dreams had taken its toll on my humour. I would like to say my arms crackled with power and that I glowed like some kind of superhero but I didn’t. I just clenched my teeth and fists and yelled a silent shout that seemed to release some kind of pressure inside me.

With a loud crack, the roof was torn away far above, the walls blossoming outwards like some strange wooden flower unfurling its petals. They teetered at floor height a moment before being wrenched away and vanishing into the darkness around me. The wind blew to hurricane levels, seeming to swirl the darkness around me like some inky mass that was almost solid. I shouted something, I can't remember what, I couldn’t even hear my own voice.

The noise and commotion went on and on, the only thing left about a square metre of dirt under my feet. The forest, the hut, the sky, everything was gone, and around me was just a fluid blackness and immense space. As suddenly as it had started, the noise stopped, the wind lessened, and the silence that followed was even harder to deal with. Everything was so quiet. It almost seemed to leech at my ears. My head was filled with the sensation that my very thoughts were trying to rush out, to move into the space and fill it with something, anything that might mean there was something out there. That was scary enough, but when the sensations reversed, I thought I would die of fright! The feeling of internal pressure pushing outwards flipped around and now something felt like it was pushing in. My ears pulsed as the drums felt like they were being pushed towards each other through my head. My eyes, which I had quickly closed, seemed to sink back into my head as if someone was pushing on them with their fingertips. I felt the skin around my clamped shut mouth pulled in opposite directions, the muscles in my jaw straining to keep everything closed. My nose was where it went wrong. Something long and thin felt like it squirmed its way up, wriggling and slippery like a worm. I did briefly open my eyes and run my trembling hands over the area below my nose but they found nothing, no slippery worm tail hanging there.

A buzzing feeling began to resonate around the inside of my skull, causing me to close my eyes again, as my whole head vibrated. I cried out but the buzzing simply got worse. I collapsed to my knees, the sensation spreading to the rest of my body. I think I lost consciousness, because when I next opened my eyes, I was laying on my bed, looking up at the ceiling.

I sat up slowly and checked my body for signs of...anything odd. I couldn’t see or feel anything amiss. In fact I felt great! My normal morning anxieties were absent, my heart beat felt solid and relaxed, my muscles strong and firm. I laid back again, retracing the events of the dream over and over. What about my mind? I brought the things to mind that I’d seen done on countless TV shows, where a concerned medic leans over someone who has been knocked on the head and asks “Do you remember your name? Who is the prime minister? What year is it?” I passed with flying colours. It all seemed to be there.

Better get ready for work now, times getting on.

5:17pm

A very good day! All hell broke loose with the email servers. It would normally have had me reaching for my paracetamol and swearing under my breath all day. Today, I just went about my business. Every angry secretary, analyst and department head that came my way seemed to lose all of their bluster before they even opened their mouths. I even got offers of help and rewards from some of them when I had sorted out their respective issues.

I left Suzy til last. I was still annoyed with her gossiping and it making me feel like such a fool. When I walked into her office she sprang out of her chair so that I could sit. I didn’t say anything to her, just tapped at the keyboard and sorted out some incorrect settings. As I stood to leave, she put her hand on my arm and asked me if it was too late to go out for that date. I asked her what had changed, and pointed out she made me a laughing stock last time. Tears shone in her eyes and she said she was sorry, she was stupid. I said I didn’t know, and she sank to her knees, the tears flowing freely now. She actually grovelled.
When I got home, I looked at myself in the mirror for a long time. It was certainly still me, but something had changed. It was subtle, but I thought some of the softer lines in my face had firmed up, my expression looked quietly amused with something, and my eyes had a shine that made my head swim. I thought back to my dream and how things had felt since waking. I was me, but better, more assured and more...alpha male? Was that it? I gazed at my reflection awhile longer, pondering until my mind began to lock up. I went to the fridge and got a beer, sipping it thoughtfully from the can. An experiment occurred to me which might settle things a little. It would be fun either way.

1^st March 2011 : 7:06pm

It worked! The experiment just confirmed my feelings. I made two dating profiles on a couple of similar demographic dating sites, one with an old photo, one with a new one taken last night. Both shared the same words underneath. The old photo got no interest and no replies. The new one got 14 messages and three nude photos.

I should be happy, and I am to a degree, but I can’t shake the feeling that it could be better, could be more...worthwhile. I feel a different kind of loneliness now, one of separation from a loved one not seen for months, although I have no one like that in my life so am just baffled at where this feeling is coming from. I feel the best that I’ve felt for years and yet here I am still not happy, which is classic Eugene I guess. Either way, I’m having an early night tonight, maybe it’s all just been a bit too much of a change too suddenly.
If I dream, maybe I will find the abyss again. I hope so.

3^rd March 2012 : 03:12am

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Horror Fiction - A New Leaf

A New Leaf

By Casey Douglass

Simon slowly ambled along the country lane, carelessly kicking a stone ahead of him, visions of the Wembley crowd cheering and applauding echoing in his mind. How did the ref send him off at school? He had played the ball! He gave the stone another kick and watched it skitter away. Bloody Collin Smith, the little shit! He’d hit the ground like Simon had shot him, writhing around and, to Simon’s begrudging envy, squeezing out a few tears.

He caught up with the stone again and gave it a harder kick, the impact sending the stone onto the muddy verge and back onto the road again. Of course, within thirty seconds, Collin had been back on his feet again, and obviously felt well enough to score the winning goal. Simon had to spend the rest of the game in the changing room, the harsh words of his coach still prickling in his ears. It was a crap team anyway, Simon decided, why should he waste his time. He’d be in high school soon, where things would be better he was sure.

He reached the stone again, and decided that he was ready to release it back into the wild once more. He stared around, finding himself in the partly wooded section of the familiar road home. His eye fell on the black tree.

He hated that tree. In his quieter times, he wondered what about it made him feel that way, but could only think that it was just some kind of psychic reek that made him feel like the world would be a better place if that tree wasn’t there. He had thought about burning it down once, and even got as far as stealing a box of matches from his parents. Thankfully, he had realised that the wood floor was almost permanently covered in crispy, flammable leaves, and any fire would have taken out the whole area. He could well imagine the kind of shit storm that would have fallen on him then!

He angled himself just so, and took a few steps back. There was no wind, but the tree was a good thirty yards away. Could he do it? He rushed forward and swung his leg in the hardest kick he could manage. The impact triggered a fiery pain in his right toe but the pain faded into the background as he watched the stone arcing through the air, a slight touch of swerve steering it towards it's target. There was a heavy wooden thunk that echoed around the other trees, scaring a couple of perching pigeons into flight. His mouth split into a massive grin as his mind congratulated him on such a world class free kick. Then the world faded before his eyes, colour leeching out of the scene before him, a dark mist rushing up around him. He managed a small shriek just before it all went dark.

An inky blackness covered his eyes, and he felt stiff, his every joint aching. He tried to cough but couldn’t, his mouth full of something. His brain scanned his body, trying to locate his limbs and their relative position to each other. It gave him the impression of being on some kind of torture rack, his arms held straight up above his head, his back arched and his legs pinned tightly together. Pain roamed his body, the nerves seemingly confused themselves about whether to fire or not. He tried to blink but felt no movement from his eyelids.

‘Well now,’ a boyish voice said from far away. ‘Aren’t you in a pretty pickle! Can’t you see? Can’t you speak? I don’t suppose you can hear either. I don’t suppose you’ve got a-’

A silence fell again, pregnant with Simon’s foreboding thoughts.

‘Ah-ha! Things aren’t so different now as I thought. I suppose I better help you, seeing as you had one.’

The voice came from near his feet and sounded tinny, but strangely familiar . He felt hands grasping his shins as someone laid on top of him, slowly making his way along Simon’s body. Simon tried to speak again but couldn’t feel his voice box responding. He felt a hand on his face, and a small finger poked him in the ear.

‘Yes, I think this is it. I thought you wouldn’t be able to hear as well but sometimes things just work out. Right then...to work.’

Simon’s mind took on the mantle of the mouth for lack of any better option. It screamed as he felt a sharp object being shoved into his right eye. A serrated edge see-sawed in and out, wrenching and tearing and spraying moist fluid down his cheek.

‘That’s one done. Catch your breath, that must have hurt.’

Simon swam on the edge of unconsciousness, his thoughts moving slowly, his body numbing itself to the thought of the damage that had been done. With a start, he realised that the darkness had gone. He could see! With a larger start, he realised he was very high up, looking down on the little wood covered road that he had been walking on a moment ago.

‘Time for number two!’

The world went dark again as Simon screwed his eye shut, the pain coming in a rush that threatened to tip him over into insanity. He felt every pull and tear of the cutting tool, feeling it pressing deep into his head.

‘I’m getting good at this, that one was quicker!’

Simon tried to cry, to shout for help, but nothing came. He felt detached from himself now. Still feeling the pain unfortunately, but like he was viewing himself from a far. As the waves of pain receded into a numb tingling, he opened what he found to be both eyes now. Yes, he was still looking down on the road and the woods around him. How the hell did he get up here?

A small round face appeared in front of him. His mind wobbled like a spinning top that’s nearing the limit of its turning force, about to topple onto its side and skitter around the floor. This time, he did pass out. Well anyone would have, if they had opened their eyes and seen themselves staring back.

***

When his consciousness resurfaced, he coughed and sobbed, shouting for help, for anyone who could help him, please!

‘Ah, I see you are back with us. I took the liberty of finishing off while you were out of it, I’m not that cruel you see.’

Simon opened his eyes and was again faced with himself, staring less than ten inches away from his nose.

‘What-’

‘You won’t be the best smiler in the world, but at least you can talk!’ The clone held up Simon’s swiss-army knife. It was gloopy with amber coloured slime.

‘What’s happening?’ Simon managed to say.

‘But don’t you see?’ the imposter replied.

‘No.’

The figure of Simon tittered with glee, the high pitched laugh blending in with the birdsong overhead. Simon felt a sharp pang in his stomach, a feeling of wrongness that made him feel claustrophobic. The figure in front of him certainly looked like him, but he...it, was wearing the body differently. The expressions and mannerisms weren’t his, they were this others, and that filled him with a dread that threatened to wash him back into unconsciousness again. Seemingly sensing this, the other rammed the knife into Simon again, the pain bringing his focus back to one searing point of focus.

‘No you don’t! Stay with me, I’m not done. I wanted thank you.’

‘For what?’ Simon sputtered.

‘I’ve been trapped for almost a hundred years, did the same thing you did if I’m honest. Happened almost the same way, except I used a home made bow and arrow. Next thing I knew, I was where you are, but whoever it was who switched with me, didn’t have the decency to do what I’ve done for you. You know what it's like spending that amount of time deaf, blind and mute? It’s no joke! Anyway, must be going, got a whole life to catch up on!’ He giggled.

'But it's my life!'

The “other” let go of Simon, vanishing from sight below his face. A moment later, a leafy thud sounded far below, followed by much stomping and laughing. Simon strained his eyes downwards and caught sight of the other “him” making his way to the road. A lone leaf gently floated past his eyes. Reflexively, he tried to bat it away but became aware once more that his body felt like it was stretched unnaturally above and below. The figure shouted something to him that he could barely make out.

‘What?’

The figure shouted again, the words carried awkwardly in the still air.

‘I said...catch you later Mr. Tree!’

Simon felt his mouth hang open as he saw the figure run off at full speed, delighting in it's new found body. He shouted after him to come back, please! Come back! But all around him remained silent as the dusk began to close in, the wind picking up, rustling the leaves at his fingertips and causing his whole body to shake in arthritic swaying, his every sinew feeling near snapping point. An owl began to shriek somewhere nearby as the other sounds of the wood began to fall silent. Simon started to sob.

The End

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Horror Fiction - Penance

Penance 

By Casey Douglass

Edgar trudged through the mire of mud and cart tracks that criss-crossed the dirt high street like fat worm trails, the imprints of hundreds of horseshoes creating deep pools of tea coloured water. He wrapped his cloak more tightly around himself with gnarled hands as the rain plummeted with a renewed ferocity. The road was deserted, the main throng of people still in the main square enjoying the festivities. A distant scream stabbed through the thatched roof tops before reaching the low hanging clouds.

Edgar shook his head at the raucous cheer that followed, the half baked whining of a flautist mingling with the thuds of dozens of makeshift drums. He glanced nervously around but found himself to be alone as night deepened in the ramshackle village. He veered off the main road and down a narrow byway, the old cottages leaning so closely towards each other that he became nauseous at the feeling of mass teetering above him.

Warm yellow light shone from the grimy windows, its reflection casting a lattice pattern on the ground. Edgar took one more turn and squeezed down the side of a dilapidated old house which bore a small sign informing the world that it had rooms to let. Reaching an almost invisible side door, he fumbled with a large iron key and let himself in. The door thudded shut in the tiny alleyway, dislodging lingering rain drops from the exposed joists above, the subsequent cascade pattering into the already saturated ground. As the last drop fell, a shadow slowly detached itself from the deeper gloom at the alley mouth and carefully moved towards the door.

The fire flared brightly as Edgar pumped the bellows, the unruly smoke fighting with the smell of damp and mould. He turned and removed his cloak, draping it carefully over a drying rack to one side of the hearth. His grey fringe was plastered to his forehead, small rivulets of water running down his nose. He raised an arm and brushed his sleeve against his face. Lifting a taper from a small vase to one side he lit it carefully from the flames before moving across the room, trying to light the oil lamps before the flame reached his finger tips. He puffed gently and blew it out before throwing the thin blackened stick into the fire.

He stood in the middle of the room and surveyed his temporary domain. It was a threadbare room, the only stand out features being the fireplace, a small desk, a bed in the opposite corner and what once might have been a comfortable armchair. A small washbasin was squeezed into a small nook in the other corner but the large rusted hole in the bottom showed that it was certainly for decoration only. He smiled.

‘I do like the glow of a nice fire!’

A gentle knock on the door made him flinch. He clenched his hands into fists as he deliberated what to do. Nobody should have known who he was or what he had been doing, so the chances were that it was someone lost or looking for a previous tenant. He blew out a sigh of air and moved to the door, his face a war of half expressions, trying to settle into something that looked self assured.

He twisted the key and creakily opened the door. A dark form blotted out the light from the house opposite, the earthy smell of the rain wafting into his face.

‘Yes?’

‘Mr. Edgar Wright?’ The voice was jovial and youthful, a smell like honeysuckle carried on the breath. Edgar’s mind whirled in a maelstrom of fear. Who was this and how did he know my name and where I am staying? Realising a brief hesitation had turned into a far longer pause, already probably confirming to the stranger that it was him, he sighed.

‘Yes...that’s right. Who are you?’

‘Oh thank goodness, I was afraid I had the wrong house. I am Ruvian Fellows, and I have information for someone...in your line of work.’

Edgar’s heart thudded in his chest. So...he knows what I do too. He has all the power and I am at his mercy, I may as well let him in and see what he has to say.

‘You’d better come inside.’

Edgar moved aside to let the shape inside, quietly impressed with the sterling job he had made of keeping his voice calm and confident. The figure was already shrugging itself out from a thick hooded cloak as Edgar closed the door on the darkness outside. When he turned back, a blonde young man stood in the centre of the room, smiling at him, the dripping cloak held at arms length.

‘Oh, err that can go over there next to mine if you like,’ Edgar took it from him and hooked it over the drying horse.

‘Please, have a seat,’ he motioned to the rickety chair near the fire. The smartly dressed young man eased back into the chair, the smile still on his face.

‘This is a...let’s just say...rustic room!’ he laughed.

Edgar moved to the small bed and slowly sat on the corner facing the man, his back clicking noisily, his face betraying the merest glimmer of pain.

‘It’s enough, I don’t intend on staying long.’

‘No, I can imagine,’ the smile slid from the face. ‘I’m sure certain people would pay handsomely to find out where you are...sympathizers and what not.’ Ruvian’s eyes went glassy, the muscles on the sides of his jaw line momentarily clenching.

Edgar felt a chill run through him, freezing the acid in his stomach to a dull ache.

‘And are you one of those people?’

The face broke into a broad grin and Ruvian laughed raucously.

‘No no! I’m sorry, I’ve always been a bit of a joker...are you okay? You have gone quite pale!’

‘I’ll be fine, it’s been a trying day.’

Ruvian laughed louder this time.

‘Trying day! That’s a good one!’

Edgar felt his face flush as he watched Ruvian enjoying his unintentional joke. He sniffed.

‘I don’t find it funny, I take no pleasure in what I do, although of course I feel it is my duty.’

Ruvian spluttered and sighed out a deep breath, trying to regain his composure.

‘Of course, I didn’t mean to offend you. Others I’ve met have had a more morbid sense of humour about things that’s all, but the error is mine. I shouldn’t have assumed you all to be the same. May I ask, how long have you been a witch finder?’

‘Fourteen years now.’

‘That’s a very quick answer if you don’t mind me pointing it out.’

Edgar stood from the bed and paced over to the desk. He stared down blankly at the few items scattered across it, his eyes finally settling on the black leather bound book with the golden title.

‘It was a swift answer because my work weighs on me heavily, and I feel each and everyone of those years like a grinding stone hung around my neck.’

He brushed a finger across the rough surface of the leather, his finger tips tracing the well worn cross. The book vibrated to his touch, sending a shock up the length of his arm and into his mind. He stood motionless for a few moments, the noises of the house and his guest mingling with the humming inside his head. He closed his hand into a fist and slammed it down hard on to the desk. He heard the rustling of Ruvian getting to his feet behind him, the glow from the fire at the edge of his vision distorting as Ruvian partially blocked the light. Edgar turned and addressed him with a stiff face.

‘If you don’t mind, I am weary and feeling fractious. If you have something to tell me that is of some use please do, otherwise I must ask you to leave.’

Ruvian gently nodded and sat back down slowly, carefully resting his right ankle on his left knee, his hands pressed together in a mock prayer fashion, the tips gently pushing into the underside of his chin.

‘I have information about a plot to assassinate the three most prominent witch finders in the country.’

Edgar nodded and moved back to the bed, sinking down onto it wearily.

‘There are always plots afoot to do that.’

‘Yes, but this one is an inside job.’

‘Inside from where?’

‘The church.’

Edgar’s mouth fell open in abject horror.

‘No!’

‘Yes, although I am sorry to say it.’

Silence fell between them, the crackling logs in the fire the only sound to stir the heavy atmosphere.

‘How do you know about it?’

‘I was a servant at the meeting. I mean, there were around thirty high rollers there, Lord Maryland, His Reverence the Holy Father, Albacas the lame...as I said they were all there!’

Edgar felt hot and chilled at the very same time. It couldn’t be. Why on earth would they turn on the witch finders? Their own servants. Ruvian continued.

‘I’m sorry, I can see this is a shock and I’m not surprised, it’s a lot to take in. I was as shocked as you are and I sneaked away at the first opportunity to warn as many witch finders as I could. You are the second I have been able to track down, you are very elusive people, although that is to your credit.’

‘Who was the first you warned?’

Ruvian shifted in his seat to face the fire more directly, his hands held out against the warm billowing heat.

‘That was young Arthur Moore.’

‘But...he died two weeks ago!’

Ruvian shook his head sadly.

‘Alas, he didn’t take my advice quickly enough and they caught up with him. By they I mean the mercenaries they have hired to fulfil the contract.’

‘Why haven’t they come for me yet?’

‘I think you have been protected by the sheer distance between you and the capital. I mean, look at it out here, it might as well be another world away. It took me thirteen days to get here from Rill, and that’s the nearest town!’

Edgar nodded blankly.

‘What should I do?’

‘Do you know where any other witch finders are? I must warn them too.’

‘Yes of course! Let me think...I know where at least a score or more are, I’ll write it down, it will be easier.’ Edgar stood and hurriedly moved to the desk, shoving things out of the way to gain control of the small writing ledge. Ruvian sat back again in his chair, the merest hint of a smile twitching the corners of his mouth.

 ***

Edgar finished his furious scribbling and carried the parchment to Ruvian, who took it carefully and concealed it inside his robe.

‘Thank you Edgar, you are helping me in the best possible way.’

Ruvian’s hand shot out and grabbed Edgar’s wrist in a steely clench that made Edgar’s bones crunch, causing him to squeal in pain.

‘Do you want to know how young Arthur died Edgar?’

‘What are you doing?’ Edgar writhed and struggled but was held effortlessly by Ruvian.

‘I’ll show you! I was there!’ Ruvian stood and chuckled, it had the sound of pebbles rattling around a rusty bucket. He threw Edgar to the floor and stamped down hard on his chest. Edgar choked and gasped, trying to suck in some air to quell the burning feeling in his lungs. He screamed as sharp pains pierced his palms, a loud concussion causing the small room to tremble and quake. Turning his head, he saw a giant iron nail sticking through his left hand and deep into the floorboards. As he turned to look at the other side, he was stopped by Ruvian's face staring intently into his mere inches away.

‘They say witches are the devil’s handmaidens,’ Ruvian began, ‘and this is indeed true. However, you witch finders only seem to kill poor defenceless women, who are about as demonic as a lamb at its mothers teat. Unfortunately, if you kill enough harmless women for being witches, inevitably, you will strike lucky now and then, and be correct in your accusations.’

Edgar panted as he stared into the face in front of him. The fair countenance had slipped and some hellish thing leered down at him. The eyes were black like onyx, the sneering teeth filed to needle point, the skin thin and viscous with veins snaking across white pulsating flesh.

‘Mrs. Pembleton.’

Edgar breathed more deeply now, and began to recite the lords prayer over and over. Ruvian slapped him hard, but it did not stop him.

‘Fine, pray to your god, he can’t help you now. Mrs. Pembleton, the woman you had burnt today...she had powerful friends, as I’m sure you can work out for yourself. The really delicious thing is that thanks to you, I now know where to kill a few more of you meddling types!’

Edgar murmured the prayer more fervently, his head swaying from side to side. Ruvian watched him in quiet contemplation for a moment. He stared over at the desk and his eyes alighted on the bible.

‘I understand you like books of power Edgar. Would you like to see mine?’

Edgar didn’t respond.

‘Of course you would.’

Ruvian reached inside his robe and brought out a large book. Edgar looked away, but the smell caused him to look back in a kind of morbid interest. A rancid stench filled his nostrils, like raw meat left out in the sun for days.

‘Yes take a look.’

The book was thick, thousands of pages probably, and bound in a red cover that glistened and looked partly melted. Strange black writing was etched into the cover, a kind that Edgar had never seen before. Ruvian opened the book and thumbed through a few pages before smiling and looking back.

‘This one should do it.’

He held the open book above Edgar’s face. As the double page spread loomed, Edgar saw that the page was covered in black ink. It wasn’t stationary, it swirled and writhed as Ruvian pushed it nearer, tendrils reaching out from the page towards his face. One much longer than the others brushed Edgar’s cheek. Immediately a barb dug into Edgar’s skin, latching on and jerking his head upwards. He screamed. Ruvian dropped the book onto Edgar’s face, the thick volume muffling the shrieking. There was a wet tearing sound and after a few leg twitches, Edgar’s body became motionless. Ruvian reached down and picked up the book, snapping it shut with a thunder clap. The exposed skull gaped up at him, its empty expression shining in the flickering firelight. He looked down and grimaced.

‘Oh dear, this blood will never wash out of this damned robe!’

He chuckled a little as he returned the book to its cloth hiding place, his hand brushing against the other piece of parchment. He slid it out as he sat once more in the chair, a self satisfied smile on his face.

‘Right then, where to next?’

He read the writing.

***

The scream of rage reached the main square and halted the festivities. It was the kind of beastly roar that triggered some innate survival mechanism inside the monkey brain of a human. Husbands clutched wives and children ran and hid under skirts. A thunder clap punctuated the outburst and the silence that followed carried such a tension that the air threatened to crush the crowd.

It was sometime later when a brave soul happened upon an open doorway, the wind banging the wretched fragments of door that were left open and closed. It was another brave soul who actually got inside the small room without throwing up. The room was shredded, the furniture and ageing decoration torn and whirled around the small space, large vicious splinters driven into every surface at crazy angles. Alone in the centre, the mutilated body on the floor, a blood soaked piece of parchment rammed into the left eye socket. Gingerly it was picked up, and upon finding someone who could actually read, was found to say:

Do not think that I am fooled by you and your disguise. The stench of hell sticks to you no matter how much perfume you wear or drink. I know I cannot run but if you think that I would give up my brothers, you are very much mistaken. The final victory shall be ours and mine! Tell your master that I have bested you and see what punishment he will prepare for you. I go now to my eternal peace, feeling much better about the things I have done and ordered to be done. Thank you good sir, this wouldn’t have happened had I not met you! - Edgar Wright.

The End

I submitted this story for a competition awhile ago, and while I didn't win, and can see some of the ways the story fails, I am happy enough with it to use as my first posted piece, and tired enough of it to not be inclined to tinker with it anymore.

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