The Disappearance

A little late in the coming, wanted to change the post day to the Weekends. Sorry Wednesday.

This new story is called ‘The Disappearance’. It’s one of the first I wrote a good few years back.

Keeping more in line with ‘Drawing Lines’, ‘The Disappearance’ is a lighter hearted affair that borderlines on a Fable.  I really enjoyed writing it, especially the casual research used to add a significant number of references, adding a little more charm to the tale.

So, please enjoy ‘The Disappearance’.

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Moon sighed a long, silent sigh. It was about 6am their time and Sun would coming up soon and with her, they would all wake up again. Moon’s silent vigil would be over once again and he would be left to wallow in his self pity.

‘What’s wrong?’ Sirius chimed. Sirius was Moon’s oldest starfriend and was one of the brightest and kindest stars around, yet even Sirius’ benevolent voice grated on Moon tonight.

‘What’s the point?’ Moon replied moodily. ‘Look at them, they don’t care about me. Most of them can’t even be bothered to stay awake to pay any attention to me. I bet if I left right now they wouldn’t even notice I was gone.’

‘Aww come on Moon, don’t be like that. Of course they appreciate you; and why wouldn’t they? You’re beautiful.’ Sirius changed her glow into that of a warm friendly smile.

‘Sirius is right Moon.’ This from Betelgeuse, Moon’s other good starfriend. Betelgeuse was somewhat more mischievous than Sirius but nonetheless was kind at heart. ‘Without you they would be lost. You make waves and all sorts of oceanographic anomalies, you help retain the atmosphere, people worship you!’

Sirius chimed in whilst doing a perfect pirouette. ‘That’s right… and they write stories and sing songs about you!’

‘What, like Bad Moon Rising or Cruel Moon, or how about Shame on the Moon? I hear that was a good one.’ Moon huffed and puffed.

‘It’s a damn sight better than what they wrote about me!’ Betelgeuse retorted.

‘I just think there must be more to the universe than this. I bet there is a planet out there where they appreciate the moon and bask in the presence of the moon. I bet there’s even a place where they rely on the moon to stay alive.’ Moon took in a deep breath of space. ‘And I’m going to find it!’

‘So you’re serious about leaving?’ Betelgeuse queried at the curious change in Moon’s demeanour.

‘You can’t leave!’ Sirius changed to a melancholy glow. ‘What about the Sun?’

‘What about her!?’ Moon snapped, causing Sirius to almost shoot off into space in fright. ‘When I go she can stay up all the time and they can all talk about how warm she is and how bright she is… and, and how flaming self-centered she is.’ Moon slowed from his rant before addressing his starfriends again, this time in a more serene tone. ‘I’m sorry you two, but I have to do this… for me.’

Betelgeuse glowed understanding. ‘Ok Moon, go for it. Reach for a new beginning in a strange new planet. I wish you luck old friend.’

‘Where will you go?’ Sirius tried to sound optimistic but her glowing sadness gave her away.

‘As far away from her as I can.’ Moon replied, motioning toward the faint glow on the edge of Earth. ‘I’ll come back some day… I promise.’ And with that… the Moon floated away, eventually disappearing from the sight of Sirius and Betelgeuse who huddled together in the glow of companionship. ‘Come on Sirius… let’s cross some lovers.’

So off Moon flew, at great speed, too determined to get away from Earth and the Sun to notice how fast or far he was going. Past the twins Pollux and Castor he whizzed, barely noticing their quizzical looks. Past Capella he flew, unheeding of her calls. On and on he went, until finally out of breath he was forced to slow to a stop. Looking back he saw that earth was thousands of miles away and was nothing more than a dot in the distance. ‘I’ve left…’ He mumbled to himself, almost to reassure himself that it had actually happened. Taking strength from his own lunar voice he smiled. ‘I’ve done it!’ He bellowed into space.

From here Moon took a more leisurely pace, heading always toward Mars, the nearest planet to Earth. Moon began to marvel at the sights that he beheld. A Binaural star floated past, greeting Moon with a strange glow that Moon had never heard before, Moon politely waved before moving on. On he went, encapsulated by the sights and sounds of this foreign spacescape that unfurled before him, getting ever closer to Mars when he began to hear a crackling noise from behind him. Just as he turned to investigate the growing noise he was faced with a blinding light and rock shattering energy.

‘HI THERE I’M A SHOOTING STAR PLEASED TO MEET YOU SORRY ABOUT THAT DIDN’T SEE YOU THERE GOT TO SHOOT NOW ENERGY TO BURN BUBYEEEEEEEEEEEE.’ The Shooting Star’s voice reverberated through Moon’s cavernous innards as he sizzled out into the distance.

And so Moon’s journey continued, from nebula to black hole, red dwarf to gas giant he seen it all until eventually he reached Mars, the big red rock loomed large before him. Moon hurried toward Mars, examining the surface with a mixture of anxiety and excitement. Along vast valleys and over colossal mountains he scoured, searching for them who would hail him as the new moon but he found no-one. The longer Moon searched, the more convinced he was that there was nothing of any interest on Mars. There wasn’t even any oceans to effect.

Disappointed yet as determined as ever, Moon noticed what appeared to be not one, but two more moons off in the distance. Putting on his best lunar smile, Moon approached his would-be neighbours. ‘Hello there, I’m Moon, pleased to meet you.’

The larger of the two turned to face Moon and spoke in a gentle voice. ‘H-Hello Moon, I’m Phobos, this is Deimos. I-’

‘Shut up before you embarrass us both you insolent fool!’ Deimos interrupted rather abruptly. ‘You never learn do you Phobos!? The more you speak the more you prove to me how insignificant you truly are. I don’t know why I put up with you, I really don’t! Even he is more of a moon than you are, and he doesn’t even have a real name!’

Phobos seemed to wilt under the barrage of abuse dealt by Deimos and Moon too was shocked by Deimos’ outburst. ‘I’m sorry Deimos, I just forget my place sometimes that’s all. I didn’t mean anything by it, I promise you.’ Phobos smiled nervously toward Deimos and then Moon.

‘Well just you remember it. I am Deimos and that means I am in charge. You do what I say and that is how it’s going to be. If you and your friend want to watch my planet then you need to learn to respect my rules and do what I tell you! Is that clear!?’

‘Yes Deimos… sorry Deimos.’

‘And another thing you whelp! I demand that you refer to me by my full name; Deimos, Lord of Mars and Master of the Milky Way! Now look, you have gotten moondust all over my opulent rockface! Brush it off… NOW!’

Phobos hurredly swept at the pocked surface of Deimos, muttering apologies and self-admonishments whilst Deimos continued to rant and rave about nothing and everything at once. Moon had been completely forgotten about and he was glad for the fact. Sidling away, he had put enough of Mars between himself and the squabbling moons, Moon made his escape.

Moon felt somewhat disillusioned by Mars. Why was there nothing on the surface? Why was Deimos so mean and Phobos such a coward? Sirius is nice but she’d never let Betelgeuse get away with that, I remember once when he forgot her starday, she burned so bright I thought she was going to go supernova. Moon found himself laughing nostalgically as he thought back to the starfriends he had left behind.

On he floated, taking in the new sights that presented themselves but not quite to the same degree as before. Eventually he reached Jupiter, the largest planet in the solar system. ‘Wow…’ Was all that Moon could blurt out as he beheld the Planet.

‘She’s something ain’t she?’ Moon almost burst into a thousand pieces in fright at the voice that had all but crept up on his side. ‘Sorry old chap! Didn’t mean to give you a scare, just saw you admiring the scene.’

Moon stared disbelievingly at not one, not two but four moons that smiled politely at the gawking idiot in their midst. ‘You… you’re the Galilean moons! THE Galilean moons!’ Moving methodically from left to right Moon proceeded to name the moons. ‘Europa,’ pointing to the smallest of the four, a shining silvery rock. ‘Lo,’ to the fiery red stone. ‘Callisto,’ this to an almost obsidian black boulder of a moon. ‘and Ganymede. I can’t believe it’s you!’

The Galileans stared at Moon as if he had just said the Sun was made of water. ‘What the devil are you talking about old chap?’ The largest of the four replied. ‘The name’s Jeeves. This here is Albert, the small one is Leopold and he is, Steve.’

‘Steve!’ Steve chimed.

‘You’ll have to excuse little Steve there, he used to be an asteroid, flew in here a couple of million years ago and hasn’t said anything other than ‘Steve’, still, he seems happy enough. I say, where are my manners!?’ Jeeves berated himself halfheartedly. ‘You want la grande tour Jupiter yes?’ Jeeves began to float off toward Jupiter, followed by the other Galileans. ‘Well come on then. Some of have to orbit soon!’

Moon followed in a bit of a daze at the whole episode, Jeeves continued to natter on about how Jupiter was so big that even the four of them had trouble orbiting her on a nightly basis and that how Albert could be awfully snippity after a full night’s rotation and that how the fact Jupiter was made purely of gas meant that one was always in danger of being blown away if caught by planetary flatulence…

‘Wait a second…’ Moon finally clicked back into reality. ‘Gas!?’ Jupiter is made of gas!?’

‘Yes of course.’ Jeeves replied patiently. ‘Look, see for yourself.’

Moon focused on Jupiter for a moment until he finally saw what Jeeves was talking about. The planet was actually a giant cloud of gas, a rainbow of colours swirled within yet focusing hard enough, Moon could see right through…

‘Hey!’ He exclaimed excitingly. ‘You can see Uranus!’

‘What’s Uranus?’ Albert replied blankly.

‘Oh… nothing… it’s long story.’ Moon quickly reverted back to the subject at hand. ‘So this entire thing is made of Gas? That means there’s nothing there?!’

‘Not a spot.’ Jeeves said happily.

‘Steve!’ Steve chirped loudly.

Moon paused for a moment. ‘ No… they? They aren’t there to make little decisions and fight little wars? They’re not there to worship the Sun during the day and curl up in peaceful silence at night? They don’t wait till midnight when Sun is showing off and shining on me again before showing their loved ones how much they mean to them? No they to shoot their pretty little sparkle stars into the sky when I come out, cheering in their tiny little happy voices as my glow and the sparkle stars reflect across their little faces?’

The Galileans were gawking at Moon, speechless. ‘Who… who are they?’ Jeeves blurted.

‘They sound… beautiful.’ Leopold smiled.

Moon looked at the four moons, finally realising that what he had been searching for all along was on his door step all along. ‘They are.’ Was all he said, softly.

‘You should go back to them.’ Albert added. ‘I bet they really miss you.’

‘I don’t know… I kinda, fell out with my friends before I left. I don’t think they will want me-‘

‘Aw poppycock!’ Jeeves blurted out. ‘We fight all the time, but we always make up. That’s what friends are for. ‘

‘Come on lad!’ Leopold added, beginning to push Moon away from Jupiter. ‘There’s no time to waste!’

‘But- OK… you’re right! I’m going home!’ Moon exclaimed proudly, and with that he turned and began to float away, leaving the Galileans to watch him leave.

‘Bloody good chap.’ Jeeves said to no-one in particular.

 

And So Moon whooshed through space, hurtling toward Earth. Away from Jupiter he sped and on through the solar system, not heeding of what or who he saw along the way. Firing past Mars he took a second to notice that Deimos was chasing Phobos around the globe… or was it the other way around?

On and on he flew until a small shining blue and green rock loomed large in his sight. Before Earth, two glittering Stars glow in waiting… Sirius and Betelgeuse. Moon began to panic, what if the Galileans were wrong? What if they shunned him? What if he had been replaced? All these horrific thoughts began to pass through his grey, but it was too late now, they were waiting for him and he couldn’t bring himself to let them down again. Moon floated in, his tail well and truly between his legs, if he had a tail… or legs.

Abashedly he floated up to his friends. Sirius and Betelgeuse wore expressionless glows and for what seemed an eternity to Moon they said nothing. Finally Sirius broke the silence in spectacular fashion. ‘WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!’ She beamed, spinning around Moon with a glow of pure joy. ‘Welcome! Welcome! Welcome home! I missed you so much!’ She began to glow so hard that she showered stardust all over Moon. ‘Betelgeuse missed you too!’

Betelgeuse tried to act cool but a mingled glow of relief and intense happiness betrayed him. ‘Welcome home Moon. It’s not been the same without you.’

Moon smiled a deep and wholesome smile, everything that he had sought far and wide for was right here and he had been too blind to see it all this time. ‘You guys…’ was all he could blurt out.

‘Someone else wants to speak to you too…’ Sirius said softy as a familiar warm glow began to wash over the three of them.

Moon held his breath as he turned to face that familiar heat radiate on his face. ‘Hello Sun.’ Moon said sheepishly, not knowing what was about to come.

‘Moon,’ Sun said matter-of-factly. ‘you’ve been gone a long time.’

‘I, I had things to do. I’m sorry Sun.’ Moon felt as though Sun was going to frazzle him any second now. The obliteration never came.

‘I’m glad you’re back.’ Sun spoke softly, her heat diminishing into a gentle ember. ‘It’s not the same around here without you Moon. I cannot shine during the night, reflecting such a serene yet beautifully bright light across the midnight sky. A light I may be the source of, but can never replicate so wonderfully. No-one can do what you do. They need you, and so do I.’

Moon looked down to Earth. All across the globe, sparklestars exploded into an array of blues, reds and greens. Faint cheers could be heard all across the planet face. A celebration to the return of Moon.

Moon smiled, a single tear drop fell from the sea of tranquillity and began it’s lonely journey across the solar system.

An Age of Sorrow

Good Afternoon everyone.

The latest post is once again from back catalouge of stories I have created over the past few years. An Age of Sorrow was designed to be set in the same post apocalyptic earth that The Business of Forgiveness was set. In actual fact An Age of Sorrow was written first.

So please sit back and enjoy the darker side of life with An Age of Sorrow.

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‘Doros. It’s time, the Maester’s waiting for us. Get your things together you lazy fool. I’ll wait outside.’

Doros dragged himself out of his bed, rubbing his eyes in a vain attempt to pull himself together. ‘Yeah. Give me a minute Jak.’ He walked over to a phail at the far end of the cabin and splashed the tepid water over his face. Quickly cleaning himself and changing into his usual leather tracking gear. As he emerged from the cabin, the warm spring sunshine washed over him, rejuvinating him far more than any water could. The sun had barely climbed over the tree line, setting a golden canvas over the thick evergreen leaves. Amidts the sea of green, the Lady of Liberty stood proud, heedless of the scores and burns that marred her green skin. High above, reaching for the sky, her flame burned bright. Down below, at the foot of the tree, Jakiri waited impatiently, holding in tow a spare camel for his brother. There also seemed to be a growing congregation of villagers, waiting to see the brothers off in the greatest adventure of their young lives… their first tracking in to Fallout Zone 1.

Doros climbed down from the cabin and took the reins from his older brother. From the crowd, a young woman came running up to the pair.

‘Hailee? What are you doing here?’ Doros said softly. The chatter of the crowd quieting to a hushed silence.

‘I came to say goodbye… and to wish you luck!’ The young girl smiled. ‘Think you could sneak away without me?’

‘I… I guess not.’

‘Here, this is for you. For luck.’ She reached up and tied a leather thong around his neck. Hanging from it was a tooth. ‘It’s a Lion tooth. Papa tells me they were alive before the war. Promise me you’ll come back safe?’

‘Hailee come on…’

‘Promise me!’

‘I promise.’

Reaching up again she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before stepping back.

Doros mounted up on the camel and nodded to his brother. Jakiri gave his camel a quick nudge and began to trot up through the village.

 

At the edge of the village, where the treeline grew thick and untended, an even larger crowd awaited the arrival of Doros and Jakiri. At the head of the crowd, an older man sat upon another camel, thick pepper hair coming out of a leather cap in thick tufts. Without haste, the boys drew up beside their senior compatriart.

‘You’re late.’ The man said, without taking his eyes off of the treeline. ‘Are you ready to start?’

‘Yes Maester Cain. We’re ready.’ Jakiri spoke meekly, head bowed to the man.

Cain turned to face the young men, sizing them up before speaking. ‘It’s about a two hour ride up the hills to the old main land and Fallout Zone 1, the ruins of New York City. We’ll spend about five hours in the city, our aim is to check the snare traps, set new ones if need be, and to search for salvageable material deeper in to the ruin. Any trouble… and we come straight back. Understand?’

Doros and Jakiri nodded obediently.

‘I hope so. Listen well, the Fallout Zone is a dangerous place. Wild animals, crumbling debris and things far worse. You do what I say, when I say and we’ll be back before sundown.’

 

The ride was pleasant and largely uneventful. The Camels found their footing in the dense undergrowth, allowing the riders to just enjoy the sunshine and soak in the vibrant wildlife. During the war, America and the Republic of China had used Dehydronuclear warheads, designed to evaporate massive amounts of water, drying up lakes, rivers and destabilising entire eco-systems. The aftermath of this was a huge shift in the Oceanic layout of the world. The greater New York harbour was one area hit hardest and as such the whole harbour became an arid valley. About fifty years after the war, a group of survivors congregated in the valley and began to re-settle in the shadow of the Statue of Liberty, re-christened ‘the Lady of Liberty.’. Using the old sewer systems, they managed to irrigate the valley and with salvaged seeds, plant a forest and a place to settle. It was here the nation of Eleuthera was born. For nearly four centuries it had been home for thousands of nomadic settlers who wanted to forget the atrocities of their forefathers and live as one with the land.

After following a steady incline for a couple of hours, Doros noticed that the trees were starting to thin out and that they were beginning to come up to flat ground. His heart began to race, he knew they were getting close. Suddenly the trees gave way and there it was, Fallout Zone 1, the ruins of New York City. Doros had always tried to imagine what it would look like from what other Maesters and Trackers had told him but nothing prepared him for that moment. The land was a sea of concrete and metal. Huge towers, on the brink of collapse, dominated the skyline. Wide roads suddenly gave way into abyssal, underground railways. Cars, ancient modes of transport, littered the streets; some had rusted away to next to nothing, some lay upside down, others seemed largely unaffected by the four hundred year hibernation. Most shocking of all were the bodies. Everywhere they looked, the fossilised remains of thousands of humans looked back. Some were running, others were huddled up against the walls. Doros rode past one mother who had tried in vain to shield her child from the devastating blast, he thought that he could still make out the pain etched across her face.

Cain stayed largely to the outskirts of the city so that he could examine the traps. FZ1 was home to thousands of wild animals who from time to time would stray down in to Eleuthera. The perimeter snare traps discouraged such invasions whilst also supplying the village with a source of meat. After the eleventh trap Jakiri heard a noise from down one of the streets.

‘Maester… there’s something down there.’ Jakiri said quietly at first, then again to gain the attention of his elder.

Cain rode over, Bow in hand. ‘It’s probably a wild dog, attracted by the smell of the camels. Come on, let’s go and see.’

The group rode up through the paved road toward the source of the noise. At the end of the road, they couldn’t see anything but the noise of scratching and shuffling was unmistakable. Cain dismounted and crept through a narrow alley. The boys followed suit.

The noise grew louder.

They were confronted with a long brick wall, the noise undoubtedly coming from within. Finding a door, Cain slowly pushed it aside and carefully went through. The building was partially destroyed, only two of the four exterior walls still stood. There in the corner of the existing walls, chewing on the carcass of a dead rat was a man. Doros opened his mouth to cry out but was swiftly stopped by Cain. ‘Quiet!’ He hissed. ‘It’s a Grey Son… or a Grey as they are known’

Doros looked on in disgust. The man was short and thin. Pale, transluscent skin clung to a wiry frame. He had no hair, no ears and his arms and legs were hideously deformed.

Jakiri was shaken by the sight, ‘let’s get out of here…’ He turned to leave and in his haste knocked into a pile of old copper pots. The Grey turned to examine his intruders. In a moment of silence the two parties studied one another before the Grey let out a guttural scream and lunged for the trackers. He didn’t get two yards before Cain fired an arrow through his thin skull.

‘Come on! We have to leave… NOW!’ Cain pushed the boys back out of the doorway as a multitude of screams echoed around the city. ‘They’re here…’

Driven by the dread of the unknown, Doros, Jakiri and Cain darted back through the streets to where the camels had been left. ‘They’re gone!’ Doros cried out.

‘Screams will have scared them away most like.’ Cain replied. He made to run out of the city by the nearest road, only to have the way cut off by four more Greys darting down the street in their direction.

From here everything happened at once. Jakiri caught sight of the camels, fleeing from another grey and darted off in wild pursuit, heedless of the danger of being separated. Cain ran after him was was soon outran by the younger, faster man. He made to go back to Doros however the way had been cut off by more Greys. Cain shot one down and Doros another but the longer they tarried, the more Greys came crawling out of the buildings. ‘Doros! Run! Find a safe place to hide until we can get help. Go!’ Cain took up a brick and began hitting it against the side of a car, drawing the attention of the nearby Greys before running off in the direction of Jakiri.

Cut off from his companions and from escape in to the forest, Doros had no option but to do what his Maester had suggested. To the north he spotted a large dome like structure that seemed to be largely intact so he made for it as quickly as he could. He could hear the screams of the Greys but for the whole they had ignored him, more intent with Cain and his noisome distractions.

Doros found his way to the front of the building, the doors were missing so he was able to pass freely into a large circular foyer. To his left, half of the roof, a jumble of glass and stone, had collapsed in on itself, blocking any further exploration. To his right the building had fared better and was generally undamaged. Straight ahead, a large oval desk dominated the dusty lobby. The opportunity to explore this alien landscape was quickly shattered by a scream from a nearby Grey. No time to think, Doros headed to the door at the right side of the lobby. It opened to a flight of stair leading directly down to a thick metal door. Doros came down and slipped through the metal door, slamming it shut behind him.

A veil of blackness slowly parted to reveal the silhouettes of metal tables, numerous consoles and instruments. Doros took a step forward and to his complete astonishment strip lighting blinked in to life, soaking the room in a artificial green glow. One of the consoles flickered and whirred. The screen came to life, revealing the face of a haggard old man.

 

‘Chief physicist Dr. Kyle Grayson’s personal log, Tuesday, April 28^th, 2043. My dearest Abigail… Please find it in your heart to forgive me… for my sins are innumerable…’

 

* * *

A thunderous boom rocked the installation. Dr. Grayson cowered in fear of the inevitable. ‘We’re hit!’

‘Calm down Doctor. That didn’t even land within the city. Continue with the procedure.’ A grizzled General spoke sternly from across the room, his tone leaving no room for debate.

Grayson wiped the sweat from his brow and scuttled over to a deck of dials, taking note of a few figures. ‘Everything is in place, launch codes have downloaded successfully into the mainframe. All that remains is to fire… surely it has not come to that…’

A second explosion caused chaos in the laboratory. Alarms whined as a junior officer came charging into the lab. ‘Fire! The foyer is ablaze, we need help putting out the fire!’

The General motioned to the other two officers who swiftly ran up the stair to the inferno, leaving the General with Doctor Grayson. ‘We need to evacuate.’ Grayson offered hopefully.

‘No! Finish the job.’

‘What about the President? He must-‘

‘The President is dead. Washington has been been completely destroyed. We must retaliate. You have your orders…’

‘But… This is Prolicide…’

‘FINISH IT! That’s an order Doctor.’ The General pulled a pistol and aimed it at the Doctor.

Kyle Grayson was an accomplished man, the leading mind in Nuclear Physics. He had been a success in everything he had done but he had not the will power to stand up and defy his death. Tears running down his face, he turned back to the consoles and with shaking hands uncovered a bright red switch. He hesitated. ‘I can’t…’

The cold metal gun pressed against the back of his skull.

Closing his eyes, he flicked the switch.

Launch sequence complete. Launch in 5..4..3..2..1… Launch successful.

‘What have I done..?’

 

* * *

If there is anyone alive to hear this. Please… Please do not make the same mistakes of our generation. In the technological race, we lost sight of what was really important. We created only to destroy and now we have destroyed ourselves. An explosion reverberated from within the monitor. The image of Dr. Grayson grimaced before continuing. ‘There’s no time… If you are reading this, Survive. Survive and rebuild. Build the human race in the image of peace and prosperity. We have lived in an age of sorrow and now that age is over. Forgive me——‘

The transmission ended abruptly. Doros stared blankly at the monitor, a single tear running down his dirty cheek. ‘My god…’

His mind was brought sharply back to the present by a loud bang at the door. Turning sharply, he drew his dagger and awaited his doom…

‘Doros! Doros! Are you there!? It’s Jakiri! Doros answer me!’

Solian

Hi Everyone,

It gives me a real sense of pleasure to be post a brand new story this Wednesday, Solian.

It’s the first story I’ve written anew in a few months so it’s good to finally get back on the horse.

My challenge in Solian was to incorporate factual research into the tale without becoming too bogged down in information. I have to admit I’ve never really tried something like this and it was a real struggle to come up with an idea that I was happy with.

I go into this Autumn, heading back to the classroom so to speak. My tutor, a man who has been the key instrument in my development in the past few years, will be responsible once again for getting my creative juices flowing.

But anyway, please enjoy… Solian!

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Justin stood in a long, narrow corridor, suffused in the sickly green glow of a dying halogen. He was exhausted. He had been running for his entire life, or so it seemed. Hands on his knees, he tried in vain to get his breath back. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he began to make out almost illegible scrawls on the wall in front of him.

Eyes are everywhere…

they do not know me…

ha ha ha ha!

Mirror… faces in the mirror…

There were more but Justin didn’t have time to read them. The crunch of glass in the distance told him that his pursuer had found him and was coming again. Justin glanced around, vainly trying to pinpoint where his would be assailant would be.

A shadow shot across his peripherals, piercing his heart with fear and causing him to dart for the nearest exit. Crashing through the door, Justin was faced with a cavernous stairwell. The winding steps both above and below disappearing in to darkness. He stalled for a moment, the sounds of pursuit had ceased so he afforded himself a moment of contemplation. Finally choosing to descend, Justin began taking the steps in pairs, every once in a while looking back over his shoulder as though expecting to see whatever it is that was haunting him.

Justin stopped on one of the landings. Emergency Exit. Justin took a deep breath and pushed through the door… and into a ball room.

Justin turned to go back into the stairwell but the door was one way and could not be opened from this side. He had no choice but to navigate the heavily populated room. The patrons danced with an unnerving symmetry. Each of them masked to hide their true motives. Justin tried to push through the dancers, eager to find an escape from the unfriendly eyes that he could feel everywhere around him.

As he moved into the throngs it seemed as though the dance floor became increasingly crowded. Claustrophobia set in as dancers blocked his every move. The music became frenetic as now the dancers began to stop and stare at Justin. A petite woman wearing a ornate gold hawk mask grabbed at Justin’s arm. He wrenched free and immediately felt more hands on him from behind. He struggled frantically but more and more hands fell upon him. The music heightened, shrill violins and thumping bass drums echoed in Justin’s head as he was pushed helplessly through the wild party goers.

Finally he fell to his hands and knees. He had been thrown before the stage. As he looked up, terror filled Justin’s mind. Facing him were… things. Creatures only imaginable in ones darkest nightmares. They were almost bird like. Bleeding, stinted limbs protruded from matted wings. Human eyes looked out from above thick grey beaks. The music raced on but the creatures had stopped playing. Their eyes drifted from Justin, causing Justin’s to involuntarily follow the gaze. He watched as one of the dancers broke from the crowd and strode purposefully toward him. He stopped a couple of short feet from Justin and removed a pure white mask…

Justin was frozen in fear. The man before him… the man with the white mask… was him.

The figure stared at Justin, a twisted grin scrawled across his face. The other Justin reached out with a gloved hand. Justin waited… but the end never came…

A blinding white light drowned out all sight and sound. Justin lost all sense of awareness. He closed his eyes but the light poured into his mind. It overpowered him…

He awoke in a garden. The cloudless, starry night was warm and still. Thin trees spiralled up and snaked around marble statuettes. The scent of lavender drifted through Justin’s senses as he slowly dragged himself into a sitting position. The sensation of pain and confusion surrounded him. He clawed at his temples in a vain attempt to ease his suffering.

The feeling that he was being watched crept up upon him almost as quietly as the one who shared the scenic surroundings.

Justin spun around to face… no-one. There was no-one there but Justin knew he was being watched. Scrambling to his feet, he scanned the landscape.

‘I’m sick of this! Show yourself!’ He cried out in frustration.

‘That is no way to show your appreciation.’ A voice replied from the shadows.

Justin stared into the edge of darkness, desperately trying to catch a glimpse of his stalker. ‘Where are you!?’ He cried, ‘Show yourself!!!’

‘I’m right behind you.’

Justin spun on his heels to face up to a man he had never seen before. ‘You… why are you doing this to me?’

‘Me? I am about the only friend you have right now. I know what is hunting you and I know how to beat it. But you need to trust me.’

Justin never got the chance to reply before one of the marble statues crumbled right before his eyes. The rubble, reduced to little more than a shower of small stones, began to slide toward both he and his mysterious ally.

‘We have to get out of here.’ The shadowy figure said calmly.

‘I… I think you’re right.’ Justin replied, the stones began to run swiftly along the ground. Justin began to stumble backward. The ground was tilting. Justin, used the remaining garden ornaments to help propel him along the ever steepening slope toward the exit.

‘Hurry!’ The figure was already standing at the door. Justin had not noticed how he got there but he did not seem to be struggling with the now vertical tilt.

As Justin’s feet left the floor, he clung on to a large statue and hauled himself up on the side. He was no more than four feet from the open door way.

The side of the statue was too beginning to tilt as the floor moved beyond vertical. Justin looked behind, to the sparkling sky that was fast becoming the floor. Justin looked up. The figure stood in the hallway, hand outstretched.

Justin jumped, and barely managed to clasp his hand around the wrist of his would be saviour.

Unrelenting strength hauled Justin into the door way and in to a long windowless corridor. Justin found himself standing up straight, the corridor showing no signs of the earlier phenomenon outside.

‘Justin, I need to go. I have a lot of avenues to explore. I’m going to find what it is that is hunting you and wipe it out. Stay out of trouble and keep your head.’ The mysterious figure began to walk away.

‘I don’t even know your name.’ Justin protested.

The figure stopped and turned back to face Justin. For a moment he rubbed his head, as if to dredge up a distant memory. ‘Solian. My name is Solian. Now go Justin, we will meet again.’ This time Solian broke in to a run and was soon out of Justin’s sight, leaving him alone once again.

* * *

Justin was completely lost. Ever since Solian had left him, he had wandered through a maze of corridors, each identical to the last, save for a singular change. A picture frame here, a flickering light there. Despite trying to take a direct, singular route, Justin could have sworn that he had walked some of the corridors a number of times. At the end of the latest walk, Justin looked down yet another clinical path to nowhere. Frustration and desperation finally getting the better of him, Justin fell to his knees and sobbed quietly.

‘Justin?’

Justin raised his head from his hands. In front of him, a picture dominated the opposite wall. It was a painting of a man. It was a painting of himself.

‘… Justin… I’m waiting.’ It was unmistakable, the voice was coming from the painting, enticing Justin to step through.

He stared intently at the picture, the eyes of the painting looking deep into his mind.

The ground; thick deliberate strokes of green and brown paint, felt real enough to walk upon. The sky; a mottled array of blues and whites, could be breathed in as deeply as any air Justin had breathed before. It all felt real but Justin knew that he was in the heart of a world that he no longer understood.

Straight ahead was a hill. Atop the hill a man. Him. Justin. Just not the Justin he knew.

That man, that Justin, was waiting. ‘Welcome.’ He spoke softly, the voice sounded so familiar and yet so alien at the same time. ‘I’m glad you have come. We have much to do.’

‘I… I don’t understand. For a long as I can remember you have hunted me down. You have turned me world literally upside down, you have haunted my steps, have filled my life with fear. Why?’

The painted Justin stirred, anger seemed to glint in the corner of his eye yet it was quickly suppressed. ‘No. That is not how it should be. We used to be closer you and I. The scars of the past have come between us and now we fight, we run and we hide in fear and in anger. I am your fear Justin Campbell. I am your anger and your excitement. Your pain and your passion!You need me, as I need you… Together we are one.’

‘He’s lying.’

Justin turned to see Solian approach through the water colour field. The mysterious man stopped by the side of Justin and faced down the painted man. ‘He is a lie. Nothing more than a disease that needs to be expunged from the system.’

‘No…’ The painted Justin shook his head pitifully.

Solian turned to face Justin. ‘Trust me Justin. How much pain and suffering has this jabberwocky caused you? I can end it. You just have to say. Give me the word and it will be over.’

‘No…’

‘You can go on with living the rest of your life.’

‘No..!’ Anger rose in the voice of the painted Justin.

‘You will be free! Free of all of this madness!’

‘NOOOOOO!’ The Painted Justin roared. The blues of the sky bled into the green. Reds and black bubbled from the tumultuous ground. Painted Justin grew is colour and in stature, rage fuelling his terrible form.

‘No more! Make it stop!!!’ Justin grabbed at Solian. Solian shrugged away from the man and faced up the Painted Justin in a cold and calculated fury of his own.

‘As you wish.’ Solian declared.

Then… it was over.

* * *

It was heralded as the miracle cure to Paranoid Schizophrenia. The drug known as Solian-4, a hybrid atypical anti psychotic consisting of Amisulpride and Bitopertin. Founder of the drug, Dr. Markus Hammermann claimed that he had identified the defective neurotransmitters that caused the condition and had tailored Solian-4 to ‘hunt down and destroy the imbalanced emotions within the subjects mind.’

After extensive animal research. Solian-4 was ready to be tested on a human subject. Justin Campbell, a 34 year old man in perfect health except for that of his mental instability. For the past seven years Justin had had increasing difficulty in regulating his raw emotions. He claimed that he was being hunted and that they were coming for him. A textbook case of Paranoid Schizophrenia.

Justin Campbell was the first and last human subject to be exposed to Solian-4.

After resuming consciousness, Justin was deemed stable. The operation was declared a success, and not uncommon depressive behaviour aside, Justin was sent home.

Back home things deteriorated for Justin rapidly. First he stopped going back to work, then he stopped washing, next he stopped eating. Finally he just decided to stop living. Four weeks after the operation, at the behest of a concerned former work colleague, police broke in to the residence of Justin Campbell. The stench of death was raw. Justin was discovered, sitting in his living room. There was no suicide letter, no signs of foul play, no marks of any kind on his body. He had merely sat down to die for he no longer possessed the will to live.

Justin stood in a long, narrow corridor, suffused in the sickly green glow of a dying halogen. He was exhausted. He had been running for his entire life, or so it seemed. Hands on his knees, he tried in vain to get his breath back. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he began to make out almost illegible scrawls on the wall in front of him.

Eyes are everywhere…

they do not know me…

ha ha ha ha!

Mirror… faces in the mirror…

There were more but Justin didn’t have time to read them. The crunch of glass in the distance told him that his pursuer had found him and was coming again. Justin glanced around, vainly trying to pinpoint where his would be assailant would be.

A shadow shot across his peripherals, piercing his heart with fear and causing him to dart for the nearest exit. Crashing through the door, Justin was faced with a cavernous stairwell. The winding steps both above and below disappearing in to darkness. He stalled for a moment, the sounds of pursuit had ceased so he afforded himself a moment of contemplation. Finally choosing to descend, Justin began taking the steps in pairs, every once in a while looking back over his shoulder as though expecting to see whatever it is that was haunting him.

Justin stopped on one of the landings. Emergency Exit. Justin took a deep breath and pushed through the door… and into a ball room.

Justin turned to go back into the stairwell but the door was one way and could not be opened from this side. He had no choice but to navigate the heavily populated room. The patrons danced with an unnerving symmetry. Each of them masked to hide their true motives. Justin tried to push through the dancers, eager to find an escape from the unfriendly eyes that he could feel everywhere around him.

As he moved into the throngs it seemed as though the dance floor became increasingly crowded. Claustrophobia set in as dancers blocked his every move. The music became frenetic as now the dancers began to stop and stare at Justin. A petite woman wearing a ornate gold hawk mask grabbed at Justin’s arm. He wrenched free and immediately felt more hands on him from behind. He struggled frantically but more and more hands fell upon him. The music heightened, shrill violins and thumping bass drums echoed in Justin’s head as he was pushed helplessly through the wild party goers.

Finally he fell to his hands and knees. He had been thrown before the stage. As he looked up, terror filled Justin’s mind. Facing him were… things. Creatures only imaginable in ones darkest nightmares. They were almost bird like. Bleeding, stinted limbs protruded from matted wings. Human eyes looked out from above thick grey beaks. The music raced on but the creatures had stopped playing. Their eyes drifted from Justin, causing Justin’s to involuntarily follow the gaze. He watched as one of the dancers broke from the crowd and strode purposefully toward him. He stopped a couple of short feet from Justin and removed a pure white mask…

Justin was frozen in fear. The man before him… the man with the white mask… was him.

The figure stared at Justin, a twisted grin scrawled across his face. The other Justin reached out with a gloved hand. Justin waited… but the end never came…

A blinding white light drowned out all sight and sound. Justin lost all sense of awareness. He closed his eyes but the light poured into his mind. It overpowered him…

He awoke in a garden. The cloudless, starry night was warm and still. Thin trees spiralled up and snaked around marble statuettes. The scent of lavender drifted through Justin’s senses as he slowly dragged himself into a sitting position. The sensation of pain and confusion surrounded him. He clawed at his temples in a vain attempt to ease his suffering.

The feeling that he was being watched crept up upon him almost as quietly as the one who shared the scenic surroundings.

Justin spun around to face… no-one. There was no-one there but Justin knew he was being watched. Scrambling to his feet, he scanned the landscape.

‘I’m sick of this! Show yourself!’ He cried out in frustration.

‘That is no way to show your appreciation.’ A voice replied from the shadows.

Justin stared into the edge of darkness, desperately trying to catch a glimpse of his stalker. ‘Where are you!?’ He cried, ‘Show yourself!!!’

‘I’m right behind you.’

Justin spun on his heels to face up to a man he had never seen before. ‘You… why are you doing this to me?’

‘Me? I am about the only friend you have right now. I know what is hunting you and I know how to beat it. But you need to trust me.’

Justin never got the chance to reply before one of the marble statues crumbled right before his eyes. The rubble, reduced to little more than a shower of small stones, began to slide toward both he and his mysterious ally.

‘We have to get out of here.’ The shadowy figure said calmly.

‘I… I think you’re right.’ Justin replied, the stones began to run swiftly along the ground. Justin began to stumble backward. The ground was tilting. Justin, used the remaining garden ornaments to help propel him along the ever steepening slope toward the exit.

‘Hurry!’ The figure was already standing at the door. Justin had not noticed how he got there but he did not seem to be struggling with the now vertical tilt.

As Justin’s feet left the floor, he clung on to a large statue and hauled himself up on the side. He was no more than four feet from the open door way.

The side of the statue was too beginning to tilt as the floor moved beyond vertical. Justin looked behind, to the sparkling sky that was fast becoming the floor. Justin looked up. The figure stood in the hallway, hand outstretched.

Justin jumped, and barely managed to clasp his hand around the wrist of his would be saviour.

Unrelenting strength hauled Justin into the door way and in to a long windowless corridor. Justin found himself standing up straight, the corridor showing no signs of the earlier phenomenon outside.

‘Justin, I need to go. I have a lot of avenues to explore. I’m going to find what it is that is hunting you and wipe it out. Stay out of trouble and keep your head.’ The mysterious figure began to walk away.

‘I don’t even know your name.’ Justin protested.

The figure stopped and turned back to face Justin. For a moment he rubbed his head, as if to dredge up a distant memory. ‘Solian. My name is Solian. Now go Justin, we will meet again.’ This time Solian broke in to a run and was soon out of Justin’s sight, leaving him alone once again.

* * *

Justin was completely lost. Ever since Solian had left him, he had wandered through a maze of corridors, each identical to the last, save for a singular change. A picture frame here, a flickering light there. Despite trying to take a direct, singular route, Justin could have sworn that he had walked some of the corridors a number of times. At the end of the latest walk, Justin looked down yet another clinical path to nowhere. Frustration and desperation finally getting the better of him, Justin fell to his knees and sobbed quietly.

‘Justin?’

Justin raised his head from his hands. In front of him, a picture dominated the opposite wall. It was a painting of a man. It was a painting of himself.

‘… Justin… I’m waiting.’ It was unmistakable, the voice was coming from the painting, enticing Justin to step through.

He stared intently at the picture, the eyes of the painting looking deep into his mind.

The ground; thick deliberate strokes of green and brown paint, felt real enough to walk upon. The sky; a mottled array of blues and whites, could be breathed in as deeply as any air Justin had breathed before. It all felt real but Justin knew that he was in the heart of a world that he no longer understood.

Straight ahead was a hill. Atop the hill a man. Him. Justin. Just not the Justin he knew.

That man, that Justin, was waiting. ‘Welcome.’ He spoke softly, the voice sounded so familiar and yet so alien at the same time. ‘I’m glad you have come. We have much to do.’

‘I… I don’t understand. For a long as I can remember you have hunted me down. You have turned me world literally upside down, you have haunted my steps, have filled my life with fear. Why?’

The painted Justin stirred, anger seemed to glint in the corner of his eye yet it was quickly suppressed. ‘No. That is not how it should be. We used to be closer you and I. The scars of the past have come between us and now we fight, we run and we hide in fear and in anger. I am your fear Justin Campbell. I am your anger and your excitement. Your pain and your passion!You need me, as I need you… Together we are one.’

‘He’s lying.’

Justin turned to see Solian approach through the water colour field. The mysterious man stopped by the side of Justin and faced down the painted man. ‘He is a lie. Nothing more than a disease that needs to be expunged from the system.’

‘No…’ The painted Justin shook his head pitifully.

Solian turned to face Justin. ‘Trust me Justin. How much pain and suffering has this jabberwocky caused you? I can end it. You just have to say. Give me the word and it will be over.’

‘No…’

‘You can go on with living the rest of your life.’

‘No..!’ Anger rose in the voice of the painted Justin.

‘You will be free! Free of all of this madness!’

‘NOOOOOO!’ The Painted Justin roared. The blues of the sky bled into the green. Reds and black bubbled from the tumultuous ground. Painted Justin grew is colour and in stature, rage fuelling his terrible form.

‘No more! Make it stop!!!’ Justin grabbed at Solian. Solian shrugged away from the man and faced up the Painted Justin in a cold and calculated fury of his own.

‘As you wish.’ Solian declared.

Then… it was over.

* * *

It was heralded as the miracle cure to Paranoid Schizophrenia. The drug known as Solian-4, a hybrid atypical anti psychotic consisting of Amisulpride and Bitopertin. Founder of the drug, Dr. Markus Hammermann claimed that he had identified the defective neurotransmitters that caused the condition and had tailored Solian-4 to ‘hunt down and destroy the imbalanced emotions within the subjects mind.’

After extensive animal research. Solian-4 was ready to be tested on a human subject. Justin Campbell, a 34 year old man in perfect health except for that of his mental instability. For the past seven years Justin had had increasing difficulty in regulating his raw emotions. He claimed that he was being hunted and that they were coming for him. A textbook case of Paranoid Schizophrenia.

Justin Campbell was the first and last human subject to be exposed to Solian-4.

After resuming consciousness, Justin was deemed stable. The operation was declared a success, and not uncommon depressive behaviour aside, Justin was sent home.

Back home things deteriorated for Justin rapidly. First he stopped going back to work, then he stopped washing, next he stopped eating. Finally he just decided to stop living. Four weeks after the operation, at the behest of a concerned former work colleague, police broke in to the residence of Justin Campbell. The stench of death was raw. Justin was discovered, sitting in his living room. There was no suicide letter, no signs of foul play, no marks of any kind on his body. He had merely sat down to die for he no longer possessed the will to live.

Drawing Lines

Good Afternoon everyone. It’s time for another new post. This story is one of the first stories I wrote, about three years ago. Unlike the previous two entries this one is a little more light hearted!

Eventually I’ll figure out how to post these on to new pages as opposed to just plastering them onto this home page. In the meantime, please enjoy ‘Drawing Lines.’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was another hot summer afternoon in Bloomfield, this summer had been the hottest on record, according to the television. Mark wasn’t too concerned with what the television said, one hot day was just like any other. He liked the summer, what twelve year old boy didn’t? The sun so bright that you had to cast your eyes toward the ground unless you wore sunglasses, temperatures so hot that boys would run around the park in nothing but tiny shorts whilst playing football and the girls wore flowing summer dresses and giggled secretively to themselves whilst they watched the boys sweat and toil under the relentless crimson eye in the sky. Mark wasn’t playing football today, he had grazed his knees playing in goal yesterday and was taking a break.

‘Mummies little boy! Woos!’ Richard teased him when he said he wasn’t going to play. Mark didn’t much like Richard, always picking on the younger kids at school. Richard lived in a rougher part of town and his parents were always arguing. Mark just thought that fighting and arguing must just be in their blood or something.

Today Mark found himself wandering about the town, left to his own devices. He chased a pencil thin tabby cat through the alley ways and back streets until he had almost gotten himself lost. After he had given up the chase he decided to take a bit of a detour back to civilisation. Despite the smell of rotten vegetables that caused your nose to wrinkle and your mouth to retch in repulsion as it caught the back of your throat and seemed to cling there until you could wash it away with coke, Mark actually like the back streets of Bloomfield, enveloped in merciful shade they were much cooler than the sizzling main streets and the back lanes were always full or secrets and treasures. This day would prove to be no different.

As Mark clambered on to some rusty old skip to make his way over a metal fence, something smooth and white caught his eye in the skip. It would have been impossible to spot in the mass debris but for the fact that amidst the filth and refuse this item was almost spotless; in fact as mark picked it up he remarked upon the fact that it was completely spotless, gleaming a brilliant enamel-white and silky smooth to touch. It was a white board and attached to the back were four pens; black, red, blue and a strange clear one. Taking a quick look around to survey his surroundings and make sure no-one spotted him, he tucked the little board under his jacket and made his way hastily if rather clumsily over the fence and away from the scene of the crime.

Finding his way back to civilisation, Mark seated himself on a roadside bench and took out his prize for further inspection. It was remarkably smooth to touch, like the side of a car but not as hard and as unforgiving as metal. It almost radiated brightness in the mid-afternoon sun and it took Mark a small while to adjust his eyes to the brightness. There was some kind of lettering on the reverse but Mark did not understand it, must have been from Japan, he thought to himself as he unclipped the black pen and began to doodle on the board, starting off by just drawing random scribbles.

Across the road, pedestrians stopped and stood gaping at the butcher’s shop as the windows seemingly changed to black in the blink of an eye. Some people rubbed at the black, only to find nothing of substance, others merely shook their heads and pretended nothing happened. Mark was completely oblivious to the whole episode. He had moved on to the red pen and was now drawing a grid on the board.

The afternoon traffic was sparse and that was just as well. Two cars almost careered into one another as from out of nowhere red lines had appeared across the intersection, further confusing the already perplexing myriad of lines on the tarmac. The screech of dry rubber brought Mark out from the board and to the events unfolding around him. As he lay eyes on the road, his jaw nearly hit the floor. Peeling his eyes from the red lines on the road that were identical to the ones he had just drawn on the board, he stared longingly at his new piece of equipment, his mind beginning to race at the possibilities, this was pure gold.

He began cautiously and clumsily at first, randomly marking a tree with a smattering of blue when he was aiming at the nearby merry-go-round. He soon learned that it was not so much what he aimed the board but more what he pictured that the pens would colour. As he grew more competent he also became more adventurous, he began by adding letters to street signs to turn them into rude words, changing the colours of people’s clothes without them noticing, he even started changing the colours of all the local buses from red to blue! Experimenting with the clear pen he discovered that not only could he remove the colours that he had added but he could also remove whatever had been coloured from existence! This came as quite a shock as he accidently erased his own shoes. By no means put off by this slight mishap, replacement shoes in tow, Mark made his way to his next objective. To his delight, all the boys were still playing football in the park and there in the middle of the field was Richard. Carefully picturing what he wanted to do in his head, Mark proceeded to remove Richard’s shorts, leaving him standing stock stunned in nothing more than his y-fronts. At first the rest of the boys were shocked into silence at this phenomenon however soon their childish ways came to the fore and hilarity ensued. Humiliated and sobbing into his hands, Richard ran off out of sight.

Mark was surprised to find that this act of tactical espionage had left him feeling a little guilty and annoyed. Why could he not make fun of others like they do to him without feeling as though everyone was judging him? Sullen and in a bad mood, Mark made to go home.

It was getting late and the sun was beginning to set, a orange-grey twilight cast itself over the town like a satin sheet being spread across a mattress. Walking past the school Mark set his eyes upon Mr. Douglas, the lollipop man, in that ridiculous illuminous yellow jacket, he looked like a stupid telly tubby. Feeling unjustifiably spiteful toward Mr. Douglas’ yellow jacket, Mark took out his pad and sought to remove this eye sore from his sight, in a couple of swift motions his work was complete and Mr. Douglas was wearing nothing more than his brown woollen jumper and an expression of pure incredulity. This time Mark felt far happier at the mischief caused and even risked a smile to himself. That smile however was short lived.

Not noticing Mr. Douglas in the middle of the road, an oncoming motorist came up to the school crossing and kept going. Mark screamed out but it was too late, the car was all but upon the old man…

The Car stopped instantly, as if frozen in time. It took a few seconds before Mark realised that not only had the disaster been averted but that the car was frozen in the time, as was Mr. Douglas and everybody else. Only Mark seemed unaffected, Mark and the strange man who removed the frozen Mr. Douglas from danger and marched up to Mark wearing an expression that could have curdled Mark’s stomach had it not belong to so curious a person. The man wore a shiny, rubber like, almost florescent blue, body suit that clung to his very thin and lanky frame, leaving only a completely hairless head exposed to the elements. Mark took a couple of steps back from the man and instinctively guarded the board.

‘You! Are you understanding how much of all trouble you caused? That male could have been deceased!’ The man ranted at Mark. ‘You are not knowing of what your actions are! The past-present is being displaced by the actions of your doing. Locate the particle-modifier at once!’

Utterly lost by what the man had rambled, Mark slowly took out the board, knowing in his heart that this was what he was talking about.

‘The Particle-Modifier! Un-hand it and present it to my person. It is not controlled by young males with the purpose of recreation!’

Mark was lost, he couldn’t follow the man’s incoherent rambling much longer.

‘PRESENT THE CONTROLLER IN TO MY PERSON AT ONCE!!! I MUST RETURN TO THE FUTURE-PRESENT!’

 

Mark deleted the man and ran off with his beloved board.

The Life of a Hero

Hi Everyone,
So it’s Wednesday and thus it’s new post day! I’ve decided to post one of my few tales that are grounded in reality as opposed to the fantastical surreallism of my usual SF or Fantasy jaunts.

So without further ado, I present to you ‘The Life of a Hero’.

WARNING: The story contains strong language throughout.

Thank you so much for reading and I look forward to your comments.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Life of a Hero

At six years old my parents got a divorce. Mum was heavily into drink. She would come home every other night, stinking of beer. I was terrified whenever she picked me up. This was not my mother. My mother was the kind woman who looked after me, who brought me in to this world full of promise. As she held me, her feet unsteady and her breath a haze of viscous poison, it was someone else. Someone I grew to hate.

My father was a coward, a snivelling wretched coward. He worked in the day and watched TV at night, waiting for Mum to stumble in after another night of bingo and beer. He never stood up to her, never told her that she was tearing the house apart. He never told her that he did not love her any more. The women he brought home while she was away drinking made me nearly as sick as the smell of stale beer.

By eleven I was with foster parents. Mum had died of a drug overdose. Seemed that beer wasn’t her only vice. Dad didn’t really give a crap, at this point he had checked out of the marriage and was fucking the red head from Textile World near nightly. He didn’t care for me, and she definitely didn’t care for me. To her I was just a sick reminder of the baseborn whore he was married to.

Adoption was something akin to being on fire your entire life, only for someone to douse the flames with vinegar. My new parents, Mr & Mrs Cleverley were a couple of messed up, bible bashing zealots. Nothing less than complete absolution to the faith was expected. Mr. Cleverley once smashed a tooth right out of his wife’s fucking mouth just because she forgot a line in the 6^th rhetoric of luke or some shit like that. He would always turn to me after kicking fuck out of her and say ‘Jesus watches us child.’ I could never tell if it was a threat or a reassurance.

By sixteen I finally got away from home. It was my third time of trying. The first time I didn’t think it through. I had nowhere to go and no food. I crawled back to the Cleverleys with my tail between my legs. They stripped me to by birthday suit and bathed me in holy water, ridding me of my demons. Fucking demons… seriously? The second time I ran away I was far more prepared. My only mistake was the underestimation of Mr. Cleverley’s blind determination to bring each and everyone to holy justice. This time I was flayed before the ritual bath. Even my demons were sick of his bullshit by now. Third time I finally slipped his net of vigilance. Three days of hiding in the cellar of my friend’s girlfriend Jenny before roughing it along miles of woodland and finally to the concrete refuge of Seattle. Here I was able to disappear and finally begin my life…

At twenty seven now the rain was cold and relentless. Big Gee and Gator were huddled in the dark confines of the nearby alley.

‘Go on Tommy…’

‘Yeah Tommy… fuck them man… It’s like poetic justice man… The church is always fucking with us man…’

If only they knew…

Big Gee and Gator were a couple of fucking retards but they were the only family I had. After I arrived in Seattle, I met up with Gator and a few of his friends. They were homeless and hungry but they took me in nonetheless. It was the first time in my life that I actually felt like I belonged. Life was simple in the slums of Seattle… Steal to Survive.

Breaking in to the church was easy. The padlock on the door was solid stuff, but the wooden door was a wasted mess of mould and damp. One swift kick and the latch all but disintegrated.

I stole through the musty interior, hands fumbling in the dark until I came to the thick oak doors of the inner sanctuary. In a stark contrast to the wasted outer doors, this door was smooth, heavy and well kept… and unlocked. I pushed it open and crept into the halls of our father. Amber light cast a jaundice glow on the statue of Jesus residing at the end of the room.

I reached the end of the room, and began my work. It didn’t take me long to find the cabinet where they kept the donation money from the day. $400 dollars easy.

I swiped the money and turned, clattering into the boy who had come to investigate the noise. The boy who was charged with working the night shift at the church, to sweep the rushes, replace the candles and polish the benches.

The boy stumbled back, his feet failing at the steps before the Dais… I watched in slow motion as he went tumbling backward, his head crashing off the concrete floor. My eyes, drawn to the ethereal light, followed the small tallow candle that flew from his hand and settled nicely beneath one of the newly varnished benches. The lacquered wood caught like kindling, flames rushing along the bench to spread their infernal seed like a virus. Flames roared in triumph as all around me the room filled with an audience of fire and smoke. My first instinct was to run for it, I’ve been burned all my life and I wasn’t about to invite on another scalding. I ran for the door but as I got there, something snagged at the back of my mind. I turned to see the young boy lying motionless by the Dais, the hungry fire no more than two feet away. I deliberated for what seemed to be an eternity but could not have been more than three seconds before rushing back and snatching the boy from the gates of hell…

The Life of a Hero was what they dubbed it. The story of an orphan from the streets of Seattle who stared death in the face to rescue a young church hand from a blazing inferno. Songs were sung of my heroism, people came to the hospital to ask for my blessing, like I was some fucking messiah. Praise the Lord they would cry! Forget the fact that the poor kid was now blind and had third degree burns down half of his body. Praise be to Jesus! What a great guy.

The church paid for my recovery. Once I was well enough to leave the hospital, their charity knew no bounds. They blessed me with the gift of Jesus… A loving family.

Yup… you fucking guessed it.. Mr & Mrs Cleverley were fucking delighted to welcome me back into the brood.

The Business of Forgiveness

warning – explicit language used throughout

‘A mistake is always forgiveable, rarely excusable and always unacceptable.’

Historical Quote – Unknown Author

The Forgiveness Project. / 寬恕項目

In the year 2497, the United Nation of Central China, the world’s largest surviving state following the great war, was drowning in a sea of decay. With natural resources at an all time low, the state had become unable to meet the demands of the burgeoning public. Petty crime grew as the desperate and the starving took to the streets. UNCC leaders knew that something drastic needed to be done before the state was destroyed from within. Six months later, the Forgiveness Project was founded. The principal objective of this Act was to enlist petty criminals into service for the state, to help alleviate the growing problems of crime and lack of resource. The Act was extreme in that people who were ‘forgiven’ by the state were forced to live and work in a massive complex known as The Arc. Citizens of The Arc would not be allowed to leave and would have to serve for the remainder of their natural lives.

As well as petty criminals, perpetrators of more serious crimes such as rape or murder could plead for forgiveness in the courts and also be sentenced to serve in The Arc.

While some found this a more desirable alternative to prison or execution, many people sought to avoid this lifelong sentence and would flee from being forgiven. In these instances, man-hunters known as Forgiveness Agents, or ‘Forgivers’ would hunt down the parties and bring them unwilling to The Arc.

Twenty years into the initiative, over two hundred acts of Forgiveness had been issued.

None of these people were ever seen again after entering The Arc.

在2497年內，中國中部，世界上最大的生存狀態的偉大戰爭後，聯合國溺水在衰變海。國家已經成為與天然資源，在所有時間低，無法滿足新興的大眾的需求。小偷小摸增長絕望和飢餓的上街。聯合國賠償委員會的領導人知道急劇需要做前的狀態，從內部摧毀的東西。半年後，寬恕項目正式成立。該法的主要目的是爭取投入服務的輕罪犯的狀態，以幫助緩解日益嚴重的問題，或失業，暴亂和缺乏資源。該法案是在人“原諒”，由國家人民的極端被迫生活和工作在一個龐大複雜的名為弧。圓弧的公民不會被允許離開其自然的生活的其餘部分將不得不擔任。
以及小罪犯，更嚴重的罪行，如強姦或謀殺者寬恕在法庭上申辯，也被判處為在電弧。
雖然有些人發現這更理想的替代監獄或執行，很多人都試圖避免這種終身的句子，並會逃離被赦免。在這些情況下，作為的寬恕代理，或“稱為賞金獵人追捕各方，使他們不願弧。
主動到二十年，兩百多寬恕的行為已經印發。
這些人都沒有見過後再次進入弧

Jon Burke stumbled into his small sixty seventh floor apartment, a half empty bottle of Baijiu clutched desperately in his right hand. He fumbled at the light switch for a moment before finally bathing the dingy room in a dim glow, the strip lighting hissing in protest.

Burke poured a generous helping of the Baijiu rice wine into a glass before slamming the bottle onto the counter. Walking over to a heavy armchair, he collapsed into its embrace, glass in hand. He closed his eyes for a moment, opening them again quickly after feeling his world spin violently. He noticed a blinking yellow light on his answer machine:

‘Jon… Jon are you there? Please pick up…’ The voice of his wife was unmistakable. ‘Jon, I know I left on bad terms, and I know what I did was wrong and I can never take that back. I just want to see you again. I miss you.

Call me, ok? I know we can make a fresh start… please find it in your heart to forgive- I’m sorry, that was the wrong word… you know what I mean. Call me… please?’

Jon passed out with the sound of his wife Kim echoing in his skull, the Baijiu slipping from his hand onto the floor…

Jon awoke to blackness, the feeble light finally giving up its fight for life. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, two things hit him; the first was the laser drill that was attempting to bore through his skull and the second was the blinking yellow light…

‘Ugggh… leave me the fuck alone woman!’ He slammed his hand down on play.

Agent Burke… this is Chen Yao. We have a runner in your sector…

* * *

‘You look like shit.’

‘Fuck you.’

‘Whatever. Kim keeping alright?’

‘Fuck you.’

‘You’re a fucking pìyǎn…’

Chen Yao came to pick up Burke an hour after he finally responded to the voicemail. During that hour he had done little more than splash water on his face and finish the rest of the Baijiu.

Chen was a mousy little man with thin black hair that clung to his scalp. He had worked for Burke as his assign for five years but Burke knew very little about the man other than that he was infuriating but very good at his job.

‘Gabriel Hargreaves was convicted by the Imperial court for five counts of arson in the Doujhong sector one week ago. It was decreed by the court that he was an ideal candidate for the Forgiveness Project. Thirty-six hours ago, two Vindicators went to his apartments to inform him of the decision and transport him to the Arc.’

‘But he ran.’ Burke said as more of a statement than a question.

‘But he ran.’ Chen confirmed.

Burke pulled a small packet from his overcoat. From the pack he brandished a red capsule. He set the capsule in to a silver syringe and in one fluid movement injected the red fluid into his bloodstream. ‘The Vindicators?’ He said as he sagged a little in his seat.

‘Dead. Made the mistake of trying to tackle Hargreaves in his apartment without any backup. Hargreaves overpowered them, cut one’s throat and shoved about thirty Haze capsules down the throat of the other. I told you those things will kill you.’

‘So he’s a murderer now… court still wants to forgive him?’

‘Self-defence. Court says he still qualifies.’

‘Hùnzhàng! Making up the goddamn rules as they go.’

Chen laughed, the sound reverberated inside Burke. ‘Still… they want him and you have to go get him.’ The Car pulled up.

‘Where are we?’ Burke asked, looking out down a dark street. Plumes of steam billowing from a nearby ventilation shaft. Heavy rain, soiled by the smog in the air, ran down the filthy gutters . The brown water reminded Burke of arteries… his arteries.

Chen pointed out a small shop lit by bright green neon lights. ‘Xiaro Zhang… a known affiliate of Hargreaves. Owns a body implant shop. Sick shit! You want a new cock? Please Kim right?’

Burke shot a glare across the car at Chen before climbing out into the heavy rain. ‘Wait for one hour. If I don’t come back then just assume I’m dead and get on with your own miserable fucking life.’

The inside of the shop was cramped and smelled of rot. Burke examined a shelf of large jars that contained a range of different organic limbs, each of them immersed in a thick transluscent slime. His perusal brought him to a thick forearm when he was interrupted:

‘You like? We give you strong arm yes?’

‘Why is it so dark?’ Burke could not hide his intrigue.

‘Arm of brown man yes. Very rare yes. Very strong. You like?’

‘Brown? His whole body was that colour?’

‘Yes. You very clever. Men before the war have brown skin. Not many left. All killed yes. Yes? No… Xiaro Zhang find them. Cut off their arms and legs and cocks yes… you like?’

‘Fuck no… brown skin!?’ Burke turned slowly, his eyes falling upon Zhang. ‘You’re Xiaro Zhang?’

Suddenly Zhang was not so sure. ‘Who asks?’

‘I’m looking for man named Hargreaves. I believe you know where to find him.’

Zhang shuffled back toward the sanctuary of his desk. ‘No… no… I know no Hargreaves. You no buy then you must leave.’ His tone changed in an instant.

‘Bì zuǐ! Don’t try to lie to me Zhang…’ Burke’s mouth contorted in to a twisted grin. Slowly he closed the gap between himself and Zhang.

‘Gǔnkāi!’ Zhang screamed before darting for a small door at the back of the store. Burke was faster. Anticipating the move, he cut off the space and slammed the door shut with his foot just as Zhang grabbed the handle. Taking Zhang by the throat, he threw the little man up against the door.

‘Listen to me you… hún zhang wángbā dàn. Either you tell me where to find him or I’ll stick that brown man’s arm up your pìyǎn! Understand?’

Zhang was whimpering, the bitter stench of urine permeating from his bottoms. ‘Please no… no! I tell you!’

‘That’s better.’ Burke set Zhang back on to his feet. ‘Talk.’

Gabriel Hargreaves had been on the run for the best part of ten days. At first he was afraid of spending the rest of his life working in the Arc, that colossal structure that dominated the eastern horizon. Now after killing those two Vindicators, he knew his life was forfeit and he would surely be executed for his crimes. He had a few friends but no-one connected enough to hide him in the cities. He had no choice but to get out of UNCC. It was Xiaro Zhang, a friend who had done some surgery for him a few years ago, who agreed to take him to Beijing for the sum of $1,000,000. It wasn’t much to pay, Zhang was never very good at negotiating. He had even agreed to throw in some provisions to help Hargreaves survive in the desolate terrain. Little did he know that Zhang would sell him out for even less…

Waking up from a fitful sleep, Hargreaves took a moment to remember where he was. When his situation settled on him once more, he sighed and dragged himself from the bed. Sitting up, he first became aware of the intruder sitting on the opposite side of the crumbling room.

‘Gabriel Hargreaves?’

‘Who… what do you want?’

‘My name is Jon Burke… I’m here to inform you that the UNCC has forgiven you for the crimes you have committed against the state. If you will come with me, I will take you to the Arc. If you are thinking of escape, I should disabuse you of that notion immediately.’

Hargreaves stared at Burke for a moment as Burke took out a silver syringe from his coat. Hargreaves leapt from the bed and darted for a hole in the wall. He got no further than two feet when the chain that attached his ankle to the bed snapped tight, throwing him face first on to the concrete floor. ‘No! NOOOOOOO!’ He screamed in protest before a thunderous electric current soared through his body, rendering him unconscious…

* * *

Burke paced in a brightly lit, white room. At one end, an array of sophisticated instruments were being operated by one man wearing a long white lab coat. The man punched in a couple of figures before swivelling in his chair to face Burke. ‘It’s done, we should get the results in about five minutes. How’s Kim?’

Burke stopped pacing, his attention seemingly diverted to the portrait of the ancient Terracotta Army, a symbol of China’s pride before the war. He sighed… ‘I don’t know. She left me a month ago, ran off with some fèi wù gǒu zázhǒng from her work.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that, she was a lovely woman. Have you spoken to her at all?’

‘No, she hasn’t called.’ Burke stopped, finally remember something. ‘She did call… on the same night that I got this job.’

‘You should call her.’

‘Why should I?’

‘Maybe she regrets what she did. Wants a second chance?’

‘I’d like to think she fucking regrets what she did!’

‘I didn’t mean it like that… I’m sorry.’

‘It’s ok. I didn’t mean to snap. It’s been a tiring few weeks. You think I should call her?’

‘Yeah… you need her. You’re a wreak without her.’ The technician was interrupted by a chime coming from the dashboard. ‘That was fast… we’re done.’

Burke walked over to the dashboard, a small monitor was displaying a short list. ‘Wow… no wonder he was selected.’

‘I know! 15kJ biofuel, bone matter 13.5 density papyrus, 250lbs unrefined meat, blood type A- rh D Negative, perfect oil substitute. This guy was a walking warehouse.’ The Technician reached to a small microphone and spoke clearly. ‘Evaluation of Arc entry 219 – Mr. Gabriel Hargreaves complete. Proceed with biofuels extraction.’

‘Just like that.’ Burke said to no-one in particular.

‘Come on, it’s better if you don’t think about it too much. That’s what I find. You better get going Jon. Shuttle back to UNCC border control will be leaving soon.’

Burke nodded before hugging the technician. ‘See you soon brother. Come visit if they ever give you time off.’

The Technician laughed. ‘I’ll try. You know how it is though… no-one leaves the Arc! Seriously Jon… you’re in the business of death. No matter how the government dresses it up. It’s a cold, dark and lonely place. You need some light in your life or it will push you over the edge. It’s time you really forgave. Forgive your wife… and forgive yourself. Give yourself a second chance at life… before it’s too late.’

Burke smiled at his younger brother. ‘Thanks.’

‘And Jon… quit taking those Haze pills… Mom would NOT be happy!’

Gabriel Hargreaves had awoken in a warm, comfortable bed, in a cold, uncomfortable room. As he took in the clinical surroundings, he became aware of the diodes attached to his body and the needles protruding from his arms. He wanted to scream, to run for the door and escape but he was terribly weak. A petite woman dressed in a long white coat, thin glasses perched on a sparrow-like nose, approached holding a hand-held electronic device. Behind her stood a man, tall and stern, dressed similarly to the woman.

‘Good morning Mr. Hargreaves.’ The woman spoke gently.

‘Where am I?’

‘You are in the rehabilitation clinic aboard the Arc. You are safe now.’

‘I… I don’t like needles.’

‘They were necessary to run a couple of tests. I can take them out now.’ Without waiting for consent, the woman swiftly yet painlessly removed the needles from Hargreaves. He was amazed at the length of the invasive metal instruments.

‘Mr. Hargreaves.’ The man strode over to the bed side. ‘Welcome to the Arc. I am President MacPherson, I run the Arc. I make it my duty to personally welcome every new resident to the Arc and make sure they understand how important their contribution to society really is. For the rest of your life you will make significant contributions to the welfare of our great state, producing essential materials such as Oil, Paper, Kinetic Fuel and most importantly… Food. You are truly a hero of the people.’

‘I don’t want… I… thank you… I’m tired.’

‘Yes, you have had quite the ordeal arriving at this wonderful facility. Rest assured you will not feel pain any longer.’ MacPherson turned to the young doctor. ‘You may proceed.’ He turned back to Hargreaves, his face stony and emotionless. ‘Goodbye, Mr. Hargreaves.’

The female doctor operated a couple of dials on the bedside and soon Hargreaves found himself enclosed in an air tight capsule. His mind thrashed against his plastic prison but his limbs rebelled. Thin red lasers sparked into life, cutting through flesh, bone and sinew effortlessly. Hargreaves’ mind was beyond comprehension. He felt no pain, only a strange sense of elation as the darkness of death washed over him

I’ve been forgiven, I’m a free man… a hero to the people.

The young doctor monitored the readings from her medical pad as the extraction process continued. ‘This is remarkable Mr. President, I have never seen a body like this. His bones alone will contribute to over twenty thousand sheets of paper…’

‘Very good Dr. Roberts… Very good.’

Twenty years into the initiative, over two hundred acts of Forgiveness had been issued.

None of these people were ever seen again after entering The Arc.

Welcome, one and all.

Welcome to Stories! For those of you who do not know me, my name is Neil Christie. For those of you who do, then it’s good to see you again. For all of you, thank you for visiting my blog site.

Stories will be, unsurprisingly, a blog that focuses mainly on the posting of a wide range of short stories that I have began to put together in the past few years. I will however put up other posts in the future that will be a little more random but hopefully just as interesting.
So once again, thank you so much for taking the time to visit the site. I plan to post stories once a week, all of your comments will be gratefully appreciated. If you like my stories, then please let your friends know about the site.

The first story is called the Business of Forgiveness and is set in a theoretical distant future. Please be aware before reading that it does contain strong language.
Warmest Regards,

Neil Christie