The Dark: A Short Story

Prologue


There is a place I sometimes go
Where the river of time does not- can not flow
Where there is no yesterday, today or tomorrow
but only the present-
Only now.


There is a place where I sometimes stroll
A place void of all presence but my own
A place where my angels and demons no longer battle for control
for my demons are the lords of the domain.

Where is this place?
This place where I lose myself
Where I find myself
Where I feel free to be the creature I fear to be anywhere else.

This place is a space deep within-
Deep within myself
But not only a place but an entity
An animal, A savage
A living breathing thing that lives to feed on my weakness
Swallowing it whole
filling the hole that it creates

So this place, this entity
this...this savage
what does it call itself?
If it does indeed call itself anything.

You know it well
Do not pretend as if you don't

It calls itself...

The Dark.




ONE


The blood on your hands frightens you. Its as red as a beacon. It seems to scream "I did it! I did this to him! It was me!"
You close your eyes. Try to block out the memory of Jason's screams, his pathetic pleading as you plunged in the knife again and again.
You start to shake. you're going into shock you know you are. but you also know, however, that you cant allow yourself to. The course of events that have been set into motion; that you have set into motion will soon lead someone to the small cottage that you now stand in. You had to make sure that when that happened you wouldn't be there. Nor could the body. You had to get rid of it- and fast.
Steadying yourself, you force yourself to take a step towards him.Careful not to tread in the river of blood that acts as your guide.
You tip toe around the bed. You're barefooted and so when the heel of you foot catches the bank of Jason's blood you slip. almost fall but catch yourself with flaying arms before you splay face first into it.
A few more steps and he comes into view. His face is unrecognizable. Swollen and coated in a layer of blood. You had pounded his face in pretty good. The butt of the knife acting as your bludgeon. The two gaping holes that had been his eyes are aimed at the ceiling. As if in his last moments Jason had prayed to the God he had always claimed didn't exist.
The bludgeoning had come before you had taken out his eyes. before you had taken the sharp end of the knife to him.
Your still perfectly functioning eyes avoid Jason's empty sockets. veer down to the remains of jason's stomach. You had opened him up like he was a can of sardines. Pulling at his insides like you had been tugging on a rope. You had done it while he had still had breath left in him. so that he would feel it.You had wanted him to hurt, to scream out, to beg for mercy. He had done all three.You had made sure of that.
Your eyes move again
Jason's legs, you notice, are splayed out in utterly impossible directions. the stumps where his feet are meant to be still oozing blood. The main source of the crimson river that surrounds you.
As you take in the scene you retch. Double over and retch again. After a second, you vomit all over your feet and jeans.
catching your breath, you straighten up.
The sour stench of you vomit mingles with that of Jason's exposed stomach acids and you wrinkle your nose in disgust. You wipe your mouth on the sleeve of you shirt. wipe your forehead with the back of your hand. A single bead of sweat trickles uncomfortably down the small of your back.
The sound of the moving second hand of the clock that sits a few feet away explodes in your head like a hammer against an anvil. The seconds are passing, The Dark no longer keeping them at bay, no longer blocking their passage for you.
I can't do this. you tell yourself. I cant fix this...I cant.
But you must, you know you must and as you spot the axe lying abandoned a few feet away, its tip kissed with blood, you know what you have to do.