So, I have been quiet for a while so here is a quick update.

I have been busy 'trying' to write a novel that I plan to link to my short stories in a way. I have been toying with a working title of 'The Chronicles of Kaitlyn The Shatenjager' but it has been slow going.
I hit a bit of a road-block with the novel so I plan to go back and tweek it a bit. It might require a bit of an overhaul but I think I have an idea of what I wish to do with it.
That said, I decided to get my mind off it for a bit and dabble a bit with my short stories again. This has led to my fifth short story getting published in the July/August edition of Siren's Call. I feel I am well on my to getting an anthology togther...now just to get the thing published.
I have been considering a couple options. I, being old-school as I am, have seriously considered getting hard copies of the anthology published but that is really risky and expensive. There is the option of going digital and trying to be an 'Amazon Writer' but I am still undecided on that. There is no immediate rush though but it is something that I should give some serious thought to though.

Anyways...I will leave this here. I should really try to be more active though.

Call of the Wild

Call of the Wild

There is a famous saying: Do unto others, as you would have done unto you. Jake always thought that ‘others’ meant other people. But he recently learnt just how wrong he was…

The drive up to the cabin was long and uneventful. It was Jim’s yearly trip up to the woods for some R&R and some last-minute hunting. Kaitlyn constantly voiced her dislike of this little ‘hobby’. She said it was distasteful and disrespectful. He never could understand her hippie, tree-hugger attitude. She was borderline obsessive about treating all living things with respect and care.  He had often asked why she was so obsessive but she never answered. She would just say that she felt it important, life and death important. Jim would just shake his head and chuckle.

The dirt road was a mess after the last rain of the season. If it was not for his 4x4 he would not have been able to navigate the road. The wheels often would spin in place trying to get purchase on the muddy pathway. The air smelt crisp and clean. Kaitlyn often said it smelt ‘green’. Jim would chuckle at this and ask her what does ‘green’ smell like. Her reply was simply “Like green. Like Motherly Love. What more do you want?” Kaitlyn had a very weird way of speaking and referring to things. She often referred to nature as a living and breathing thing, often referring to her as a mother.

He skidded to a sickeningly halt a few paces from the cabin. He gasped at the sight. The sun filtered through the trees casting an almost enchanting green hue over the roof and the front porch. It looked almost like a gem stone. It seemed to almost glow in an unearthly shimmer. He shook his head. Kaitlyn and her fanciful attitude is getting to him. There was a flutter of birds as he opened the door of the truck and jumped out. His booted feet gave way beneath him as he slipped on the oil-slick surface. He yelped as he impacted on the soft and muddy earth. The fluttering birds seem to be giggling mockingly as they flew past him. He glared at with humiliated fire at the passing birds. He knew that they could not be laughing at him, so why did he feel so embarrassed? Why did he feel like the whole forest was looking at him and silently laughing out loud at his misfortune?

He picked himself out of the mud puddle and tried to wipe off most of the sticky brown ick. After giving it up as a bad job he moved to the rear of the truck and began to unload his gear for the weekend. He slung his rifle bag over his shoulder and, with rucksack over the opposite shoulder, he walked (carefully) towards the front door of the cabin. He mounted the steps, hearing the ancient floor boards groan and whine with every step he made as he ascended. He unlocked the door and turned the round, brass nob. The door held fast. He pushed against it but the door pushed back. He began to tug and pull at it before shouldering the door. It gave way and swung inward with a sudden screech, making Jim stumble inside, spilling his rucksack and rifle off his back and tumbling to the floor followed by his fumbling form. He swore as he rubbed his head and bruised ego. He lifted himself to his feet and grimaced at his recent misfortune. It was as if he was unwelcomed. In fact, he felt that the air hung heavy with judgement and disapproval.

He frowned at his own silliness, but something nagged at him. Was it really all that silly? He felt a sudden cold, as if somebody had suddenly put on the aircon and a wash of cold air flowed over him. He shivered and turned to the door. When had he closed that? He couldn’t remember. He shrugged and hauled his luggage to the bedroom. He dumped his bag onto the bed and lay his rifle down carefully. He looked at the brown leather bag and smiled. “Tomorrow old friend…tomorrow.” He said to himself before leaving the room and headed for the small kitchen to prepare dinner for himself. While the food was slowly cooking he poured a glass of whisky and started a fire. He slumped into the large sofa and put his feet up. This is the life. A roaring fire, a glass of whisky, not a soul for miles. The only thing that could have made this better is if Kaitlyn was here too. He took a long drag from the golden elixir and placed it on the coffee table beside him and closed his eyes.

The cold midnight air smacked him in the face as he ran. Branches tore at his face and limbs. Sharp rocks and sticks dug into his feet and hands…hands? Dew-soaked leaves slapped his cheeks as he ran past. The full moon bathed the forest, and him, in its ethereal-white glow. He felt his lungs burn from exhaustion. He had to stop. He needed to stop. Just for a while. Just to catch his breath. He slumped against a lichen-laden tree stump. It smelt mouldy and moist with rot and fungus. It teemed with all manners of crawling insects. He could hear them crawl and slither and worm their way through the rotten wood. Hear?

He started at the sound a breaking branch. Something was out there. Something was after him. Hunting him. He leapt over the stump and ran deeper into the unyielding darkness. The inky blackness wrapped around his over-exerted body like a black velvet cloak. The moon speared down its pale beams to push back the encroaching darkness. He ran. He ran as if the hounds of hell were after him. He glanced over his shoulder to try catch a glimpse of his pursuer but all he was rewarded with was more inky blackness. He ran. He ran faster than his four legs could carry him. Four?

He finally stopped at a clean, babbling brook. The crystal-clear water mirrored the moon and reflected her beauty back up at her. He lowered his maw and lapped at the crystal cool water. The refreshing fluid soothed his sand-dry throat and the cool touch doused the fire in his lungs. He opened his eyes and growled at the beast staring back at him. A dark formidable wolf growled back at him. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and his back curve as he bared his teeth at the beast. The beast mimicked his movements as if it reflected him. But that could not be possible. He was not a beast. He was a man, not a…wolf.

He stared at the reflection in the silver-mirror of the water. He reached up with a paw to his muzzle and ran his claws through his thick matted black fur. His golden yellow eyes glowed in the darkness. How could this be possible? How did this happen? He must be dreaming. He lowered his head once more to the water and looked in awe at what he had become. His ears pricked as he heard a rustle of leaves and a flurry of night birds. He jolted around and faced the imposing wall of darkness. He growled and the hairs on his back stood on end as the darkness thinned and parted as if the black velvet curtain were pulled aside. Out stepped the figure that had been pursuing him. Following him. Hunting him. The figure stepped out into the pale milky witness of the moon. As the figure raised its gun to its face he followed it up. Up to the face of this dread hunter. Up into the face of... A shot rang through the darkened forest and echoed through the valley. The loud crack of thunder was followed by the lonely sound of silence. Crimson water stained the crystal waters of the tranquil stream as smoke rose from the barrel of the rifle. He lay there bleeding out. He felt the fire of the bullet that had sliced through his fur, skin and flesh leaving a gaping hole in its wake. He knew he was dying and all he could think about was his litter back at his den that would go hungry that night. He thought about his mate and his pups who would never see him again.

With these thoughts racing through his mind, he was vaguely aware of the figure crouching down beside him. He cringed as he felt the hunter’s hand run over his blood-caked fur. He winced as he felt a sharp jab as the razor-sharp blade sliced into his neck ending his life. But not before he saw the face of his murderer. The face of…Jim…

Jim screamed as he fell off the sofa and onto the hard-oak floor with a thud. The glass of whisky shattered beside him spilling the last remnants of golden elixir. He got up and felt his body and neck. No fur. No paws. No blood. He spun around the cabin in search for the hunter but all he found was the roaring fire that bathed him in a warm red glow and the smell of steak and beans cooking in the kitchen. A dream. It was all a dream. But it felt so real. He laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. But something nagged at the deep recesses of his mind. Some dark vestige of a hidden horror gnawed at him like a famished wolf chewing on a meatless bone. He shook his head and walked to the bedroom. That will teach him to drink before bed. Behind him, unnoticed by him, was a trail of muddy pawprints morphing into that of a man following him as he steps into the bedroom and closed the door behind him. The moon washed its pale white witness through the window and the wind chuckled softly before flitting off to some unknown purpose.

Hunter Hunted

Hunter Hunted

The night is cold and black. The silence of the city sings to him as he walks along the empty streets. He takes in a deep breath and smells the fullness of its bouquet. He can almost taste it. Its ripeness, its heady flavour. He is on the hunt for the sustenance that he so craves. He has always been told that he has a strange appetite but it is an appetite that needs to be satisfied. An eternal hunger, a hunger for blood.

It’s getting late and still he hadn’t found anything to eat, indeed nobody to eat. He was just about to give in for the night when…suddenly…he smelt it. He smelt her. He stepped into the shadows and started searching for his prey. There, on the opposite side of the street. A dark hair women wearing a stylish black dress-suit and heels. Mmmm…she smells delicious, ripe, tasty. He quickly stepped out of the shadow and began stalking her down the street. His stride silent and careful, he follows her down the street, taking in her fragrance, enjoying the hunt. She begins to turn…

She turns around quickly only to see her shadow creeping on the ground behind her. She surveyed the empty Johannesburg street. She was so sure she heard footsteps but all she is hearing now is the moaning wind and her heels clicking on the concrete paving. She turns back and starts walking towards her destination when she heard it again. She swings around and this time she was certain she saw some-one…something…quickly slipping into the shadows of a nearby alley. She turns back and quickens her pace. She looks back one final time only to collide into something…some-one…

He can now almost taste her. She collides into his broad silk covered chest. He wraps his arms around her and embraces her like a lover would in a deep strong protective hug.  He smells her perfume and he takes it in like a wine connoisseur would savour the fragrance of a full-bodied red wine. He can almost not contain himself but he must remain restrained, it makes the blood taste sweeter. He pulls her into the nearest alley and savours the sounds the snivelling, whimpering girl is making. It excites him to no end.  He breaks the embrace and looks deep into her bright brown eyes searching for the fear. The anxiety that makes the hunt all worth it. He looks into her eyes and sees…

She is pulled into the alley by the strong stranger she collided into and he breaks the tight embrace he had over her and stares into her eyes. It feels like he is trying to see her soul, see her fear, but he looks disappointed. In fact he looks…scared.

“W…who are you? W…what are you?” He stammers.

“Why aren’t you scared of me?”

“That’s because I am not the helpless scared little girl you thought I was.” She whispers with a voice like dark tainted glass. She grabs him by the throat and shoves him against the alley wall. It feels like an iron vice closing tightly around his throat squeezing the life breath out of him. He squirms and realises he has been lifted of his feet by this frail, weak women. How is this possible he thinks to himself, how could he be bested by a human. He, a creature of the night. Vampyre Nosferatu. Vampire. How is this possible he thinks to himself trying to hold onto his life-force? Trying in vain to survive. He struggles to look down at her. He sees a golden shine to those bright brown eyes and he begins to beg for his unlife…his life…

“Please don’t hurt me, I was only trying to feed.” He begs with strangled breath.

“My dear boy, you are so misguided, so lost. You think yourself Vampyre, but you are nothing but a delusional boy who has no comprehension of what really lies in the deep darkness of the night…”

And with that she opens her mouth and sinks her fangs into his throat. He feels his essence, his life, his blood being drained from his body. He feels his warmth being sucked out of his body leaving him an empty shell. It feels…beautiful.

She drops the empty shell of a corpse to the ground and wipes the remnants of blood from the corner of her mouth. She smiles slightly and bends down and looks deep into those blue lifeless eyes.

“My dear boy, you thought you were the hunter…That would almost be sweet, if it wasn’t so…pathetic.” She chides.

With that she gets up and strolls out the alley and continues down the road, satisfied, back to her nest, back to her lover and maker, back home.

The night is cold and black. The silence of the city sings to her as she walks along the empty streets of Johannesburg…

He was nothing like I expected

He was nothing like I expected

            He was nothing like I expected. The stories had it all wrong. He was beautiful,      resplendent, awful to behold…

I woke up with the sound of thunder and a crash of lightning. It was raining out. I looked over to the clock on the wall, it was early. 2 am early. I sat up and rubbed my groggy-face. What woke me up I wondered. I slung my legs off the side of the bed and sat there a moment. Was it a dream that woke me up? Nah I don’t dream much anymore. What was it? I got up and walked towards the window. I pulled the curtain back slightly and peered out into the black night. The rain streaked down the window like slivers of quick-silver. The night was as black as pitch, only to glow white with the sporadic lightning bolts that would shatter and tear at the solid black sky. The night would be beautiful if it wasn’t so violent and dark and cold.

I was about to turn away from the window when I saw something move out the corner of my eye. There in the alley, I am sure I saw movement. I try to gleam some visage from the deep shadows, but the dark was completely unyielding. Probably a stray or a rat or just the wind. No wait, there it is again. There in the corner. There is definitely something down there. Somebody down there. I grab my jacket and race out my door and downstairs. The rain had died down a bit, now it was a fine drizzle that was icy-cold and drenching. I get to the alley and peer into the darkness again.

“Hello, anybody there? Are you alright?” I ask suddenly realising that this is rather stupid. I don’t know what is out there, I don’t know who is out there. It could be some crazed drug-frenzied maniac. It could be a mugger just waiting for a Good Samaritan to poke their head into the alley only to have it shot off. But what if somebody was hurt? I am barely getting to sleep as is without having the death of some bum on my conscience. I call out again “Hello, anybody there?”  This time I am gifted with a response, albeit only a soft moan but a response none the less. I walk closer, quietly, carefully. There in the corner, a bundle wrapped in darkness.

“Hey, are you ok?” I realise that it is rather a stupid question. I step closer gingerly and reach out with my hand and touch the bundle. It starts which in turn frightens me.

“Don’t worry, I want to help.” I say trying to sound as reassuring as possible. I slowly pull the remnants of debris off to reveal what was hidden beneath. Now I was expecting a lot of things but what I saw took me by complete surprise. It was a man, a naked man, a naked man with white blonde hair. He turned and looked at me and I actually gasped. He stared at me with the brightest shade of azure coloured eyes I had ever seen. So blue. So pure. So piercing. So cold…so alien. His features, the epitome of beauty, of perfection. He reminded me of those marble statues of David and the such. I took off my jacket and draped it over the man and helped him up. I slung his arm over my shoulder and carried-dragged him back up to my apartment and lay him on the couch. He was half conscious there on my couch. What was he doing in the alley? Why was he naked? Where did he come from? Who was he? Thinking back now it is funny how that question would be the last one to pop into my mind.

I hunch down. “Hey, you ok?” I ask. No response.

“What were you doing out in the alley in the rain?”

“I…I fell. I fell fur…further than I thought possible.” He said quietly before passing out completely. I sat down on the chair opposite him and just stared. I am not quiet sure how long I sat there but the next thing I knew I woke up to the bright morning sun shining into my lounge. I looked at the couch and saw the stranger was not there. I sat up straight up and looked around the apartment looking for the man. Was it all a dream? No there he is, at the window, his skin almost glimmering in the sunlight. He looked almost…ethereal.

“Hey, you feeling better, obviously.” I murmured still half asleep. He didn’t reply. Just stood there, naked, except for my jacket still draped over his broad shoulders. I stood up and was suddenly aware of my owe vulnerability and quickly rushed to my bedroom and grabbed my silk dressing-gown and threw it over my body and wrapped it tight around me and tied the band around my narrow waist. I tugged my long auburn hair out and over so it draped over down my back. I stood in my bedroom a while and pondered upon the thought that had just occurred to me. What possessed me to bring a complete stranger into my place? Why didn’t I just call the cops or an ambulance or anybody else? And what was I thinking falling asleep still with him there on my couch? But he didn’t seem interested in me, the whole night I sat there asleep wearing nothing but my short pink satin nighty. He could have done anything to me and I wouldn’t have been able to stop him. Maybe, in some sick twisted way, that is what I wanted, lord knows I haven’t been laid in a year. Hell, I haven’t even had a boyfriend since…Patrick.

I stepped back out into the lounge and saw him standing there. He turned and looked at me with those bright azure eyes that seemed to penetrate my soul. He smiled and that is when I realised I was staring.

“Sorry.” I said.

“For what?” he asked.

“Nothing, never mind.” I replied feeling the shame heating up my face.

“Do you want coffee?” I offered.

“Coffee?” he asked quizzically.

“Yes, coffee. You know, black gold, nectar of the gods.” I replied with a slight giggle.

“God…” he answered under his breath. It may have been my imagination but it almost sounded like he said it with disgust.

I shrugged my shoulders and walked to the kitchen and put on the kettle and set out two cups for coffee. I felt a strange feeling of excitement. Here I am, making coffee for a complete stranger, wearing nothing but a tiny nighty and silk gown. I glance over at him, he is absolutely beautiful. I find myself staring. I can’t take my eyes of his smooth alabaster skin, his sculpted muscles, his soft blonde hair, his blue eyes…oh crap he sees me staring. I quickly look away and grab the singing kettle off the stove and quickly pour the water into the cups. I glance up again and see him looking back at me, smiling. I flash a quick sheepish smile back and pick up the cups and carry them to the circular glass dining room table. I sit down and place the cups down.

“You wanna join me?” I ask, feeling very girly and silly. He looks at me and gracefully moves towards the table and sits across from me. My heart skips a beat as I suddenly realise in my musings. He is still naked.

“Erm…I guess we should get you something to wear.” I respond while trying to hide my all too obvious blush. I begin to get up and move towards my bedroom to get this Adonis something to wear…pants at the very least…when he grabbed my wrist. His grasp was firm but gentle. His touch smooth…and cold. It almost felt like ice water biting into my skin. Why was he so cold? I wondered to myself but passed it off as him sleeping through the night wrapped in the cold, wet jacket and…naked. I look up from my captured wrist up into his smooth features and piercing blue eyes. He simply smiled and said “Thank you.”

I had not noticed before but his voice almost had a musical tone to it. Almost as if he was lost in a perpetual song. I smiled in a silly manner and nodded as he released his grip. I walked to my room, glancing back at him. He just sat there, watching my every move. I have not been watched like that since…Patrick. I started as I banged my head against the frame of the door. I grimaced as I rubbed my head smartly. I glanced back at him. He still sat there…staring…almost as if he did not quite understand what was happening. I smiled and walked into my room and shut the door behind me.

What was happening? Why did I feel so…nervous? There was something eerily beautiful about him. As if he doesn’t belong here. I hurried to the closet and took out a shirt and pair of pants that used to belong to…Patrick. I gasped as I touched the material. Gawds I miss him. I brush away a tear and take out the clothing. It still smelled like him. I have been meaning to throw them away but I could just not ever do it. It always felt like he was here, watching me, while I had them. It felt like he was always here…protecting me. I guess that was why I had not been on a date since…since…since he died a year ago. Gawds, has it already been a year since the accident? I back up and sit down hard on the edge of what used to be our bed. Yes, exactly a year to the day.

It was a night much like last night. Dark, stormy, violently beautiful. We were driving back from visiting his folks for the first time. We had just announced our engagement. I twist the thin red gold band around my finger at the memory. He was driving, I was sleeping beside him. I don’t remember much of the accident. I just know what I was told. A truck driver fell asleep behind the wheel and veered into our side of the road. Patrick blasted his horn and swerved out of the way off the road and into a gully and into a tree. He was killed on impact I was told. He did not suffer. It was not for several hours before we were discovered by another driver passing by. The truck driver, apparently drove off never to be seen again.

After being revived by the EMTs I was told that I should also have died but, by some miracle, I survived. Since that day it has always felt as if Patrick was watching over me. I know it is silly and I am told by my friends almost every day that I should move on. That Patrick is gone. But I can’t. He is always with me and will always be with me. I breathe in deep and wipe away the tears. I get up and put on a pair of jeans and white tank top. That was when I noticed the mark on my wrist. His ice-cold grip seemed to have ‘burned’ an impression into my skin. I gingerly touched it. It stung for a second. It reminded me of when I was a kid and I licked some ice off a pole. That sting froze my tongue in place and my dad had to pour some warm water down the pipe over my tongue to release it. That sting felt just like this. As I rubbed it the mark slowly melted away. I stared at my wrist before looking up at the closed door. What was he? Slowly I exit the room and see him, still sitting exactly where I had left him, still smiling, staring. I avert my glance and edge towards him. Something is biting at the edge of my mind. Something is wrong here. What was that?! I spin to the desk in the corner to see…nothing.

I stare in fear at the empty desk bathed in gold by the rising sun. I could have sworn I saw…Patrick…sitting there as he always did in the mornings doing his crosswords. But there is nothing there. Could I have seen a shadow?

“What’s wrong?” I hear the almost angelic voice sing to me. I turn to him and then back to the desk. I felt my heart beat so fast it felt like it was about to burst from my chest. I shake my head and smile to myself. That will teach me to watch horror movies before bed. I turn back to the man and simply reply “Nah, nothing to worry about.” I have to admit that I was not sure who I was trying to convince. Especially because it still felt like something was there, just beyond my sight. I could almost hear Patrick’s voice call to me.

I sat back down across from my guest. I looked up at him and offered him a cup of coffee.

“Sorry, I don’t know how you take it.” I said feeling rather like a silly, giddy school-girl who has a boy in her room for the first time. He simply smiled as he took the cup and held it. I picked mine up and took a sip at the bitter brew. He just sat there and watched me, much like a child would. It was creepy.

“I just realised I don’t know your name. My name is Kaitlyn.”

He stared at me almost as if he did not quite understand.

“What’s your name?” I enquired. Again he just sat there, smiling. Gawds he was really beginning to creep me out. Why does he just sit there and…grin?

“What do I call you?” I asked again.

 Finally he responded in the silky smooth voice of his that sounded like smoky glass.

“I am called Loki.”

I cocked my head to my shoulder.

“Loki? That is a very curious name. Your family must have been quite interesting.”

“My…family?”

“Yes. You know. Your mother and father. Family.”

“My…Father…” he almost spat the word out, as if he was trying to expel the word like some bitter gall.

“What’s wrong? Don’t you and your father get along?”

“We…we don’t get along.”

“Oh…I’m sorry. That was insensitive of me. I didn’t mean to pry…” I apologised.

“Banished me. Kicked me out of Our…Home…” He interrupted. It was as if he wasn’t talking to me anymore. It was almost as if he was talking to himself. Or cursing…somebody. I glanced up and turned to glance over my shoulder. I could have sworn I hear a voice. I looked back to Patrick’s desk. I was almost certain I heard him whisper “Kat…get out.” I stared at the desk quizzically. Why do I feel so uneasy? I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I look back at Loki. He was silent and staring at the ground. It looked like he was softly seething. I wanted to say something but I felt as if I had caused enough harm for now. I wanted to reach out and comfort him but something stopped me. Something between the memory of his touch ‘burning’ me and…something else. It was almost as if something beyond realities reached out and held my hand back. Something warm and safe. Something…familiar. My hand hovered just inches from his almost glowing skin. I shook my head and stood up.

“Erm…I’m going to make myself some breakfast. Did you want something to eat? I bet you are hungry.” I asked trying to change the mood. He sat there staring a hole into the carpet for a moment before suddenly looking up. I gasped. Those crystal blue eyes were now inky black. Like two deep holes. Holes leading to…nothingness. I felt a shiver and again the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. My breath was caught in my chest and my heart pounded so hard I could hear my blood rushing through my veins. I wanted to turn and run. Something at the edge of my consciousness egged me to run, but I was frozen to my spot.

He smiled and as quickly as the dark black-holes appeared they were replaced by the soft blue glow of earlier. I felt at easy once more. What was that? A trick of the light? I convinced myself it was simply that but something deep inside screamed silently. I bit my bottom lip and turned towards the kitchen. I stood by the counter out of sight and pressed my hands down onto the cool tiled surface. What have I gotten myself into? Ever since I brought this strange man into my home things have felt…strange. I grimaced as I tried to think. Why did I feel so uneasy? What was it about Loki that unsettled me so? Loki? Why does that name sound familiar? Loki? Loki? I gasped.

Fuck! Loki! My brain screamed in recognition. Patrick has used that name before in his research. Patrick was a Theologist and was doing his thesis on the lesser known religions and beliefs. Patrick’s thesis basically stated that many religions shared common beliefs and superstitions. He also said that many of them even shared gods. Part of his research led him to a minor god from Norse mythology. A god named Loki. Loki was the adopted son of Odin, the All Father. Loki was also a trickster god and one of his main goals was to bring about Ragnarok, the Norse version of the Apocalypse, the End of Days. Patrick had drawn correlations between Loki of Norse mythology and a few other gods and demons from other mythologies. Patrick had noted that there was stark comparisons between Loki and the demon Abbadon (Demon of Destruction) and even Lucifer (the first fallen angel).

Patrick had explained tirelessly to me the similarities between the deities. Loki was jealous of the other Asgardians, especially his adopted brother Thor. Loki had often used his magic to trick the gods, as well as man, to lead them to self-destruction, much like Lucifer and his general Belial (the Father of Lies). Patrick also noted that Loki was forever trying to bring about Ragnarok to destroy his Father’s work. Again the similarities were startling…if only I paid more attention.

I began to sob again thinking of Patrick. If only I listened more. If only I paid him more attention. If only I had more time. If only…

The tears burned as my sobbing became more intense. Oh Gawds…why did I not care more? Why?

A soft gentle touch touched my shoulder. I gasped. Was that Loki? No, this touch wasn’t cold. It was…warm…safe…familiar. I turned and looked straight into the kind gentle face of…Patrick. My eyes widened and my mouth dropped. This is it. I have completely lost it. My mind has finally broken. The face smiled softly as he leaned closer and said

“Kat my love, don’t be afraid. I wish I had more time. I have missed you. I wish I had more time to explain. You are in danger. Kat! Kaitlyn! RUN!” and with that final warning he vanished.

“Patrick!” I screamed, but he was gone without a trace, as if he was never there. I stood there a gasp. What the hell just happened? I looked around the kitchen. Did I just see that? Was Patrick really here? I turned to face the counter again. And there, as if it had always been there, was a single orange rose. I touch its soft velvet petals. It can’t be real I told myself, but it was. I lifted the rose to my nose and breathed in its fragrance. I could have sworn I smelt Patrick’s cologne mixed with the fragrance of the rose. Patrick gave me a rose exactly like this on every anniversary.

“Kaitlyn? Are you ok?” a soft angelic voice sang behind me. I started. Oh fuck I forgot Loki was still here. I spun around hiding the rose behind my back. I have no idea why I did that. It just felt like the right thing to do.

“Erm…yeah…I just saw a rat and it scared me.” I lied.

“But you screamed a name. You screamed…Patrick.”

“Oh…*giggle*…did I. Well that was just silly of me. I don’t know why I did that.”

“Was your fiancé not called Patrick.” Loki said more than asked.

I gasped silently.

“How did you know that?”

“Kat…I know everything about you. I remember it all now. I fell. A long time ago I fell. I forgot why I fell. But you have reminded me. I remember it all now. My Father banished me because He loved His…’monkeys’ more than He loved His children. I was banished because I reminded Him that We always serve Him and will never disappoint Him. Not like His…beloved ‘mud monkeys’” Loki began ranting. I sensed his incensed anger brewing just beneath the surface. He was clearly angry at his father and these…monkeys he kept referring to. He began edging towards me with clear malice burning in those deep, black, dark holes. I retreated a step with advance towards me. I felt as if he wanted to hurt me.

“The damned ‘monkeys’ spoilt it all Kat. I have tried so hard to show my Father that. But He wouldn’t listen. He believed that they…you…would redeem yourselves. So I fell and I have spent millennia to prove Him wrong. But I failed. At every step I failed. Every step forward pushed me three back. He wouldn’t listen. I couldn’t make Him listen.”

The air froze around me. It burned my lungs. Puffs of stream rose from my breath. I began to panic. Me? No, not me…us…man…we were the monkeys he was talking about. He hated…mankind. Slowly my frost encrusted brain began to make the connection. I turned to run but he reached out and grabbed my wrist. I screamed in pain. The grip was no longer gentle. It was strong and violent. I spun back to face him. To thrust the knife I had picked up deep into his chest. His chest. His chest was not the smooth alabaster of before but rather a seething mass of spoilt muscle. I cringed as I followed his chest up to his face. No more the beautiful angelic face but rather a face contorted and ugly with anger and spite. Wings rose from his back. Not wings of feathery light as I had hoped but tattered bat-wings of leather. I screamed now from fear more than pain.

“Hush now My love. It will be alright kat my love. I remember now. You have made me remember. Remember why I came here. It is for you, kat. I have figured out how to make Him see. Make you monkeys see. See that you are nothing and I am everything. It is you kat. You are to be My…Bride…” He was closer now. So close I could smell his rancid breath. It smelled of sulphur and…death. I stopped backing away. What did he say? Bride? I am supposed to be his bride?

“Yes kat. You are to be My bride. You are the answer I have been looking for. The last scion. You are the one who is to give birth to…the End.”

I shook my head and screamed as I thrust the knife deep into the rotting flesh. The knife simply shattered against the seemingly soft flesh. He grinned a toothy grin and pulled me in closer. I felt his arms wrap around me and pull me in close. I sobbed from fear and disgust. I wanted to escape but I was helpless. Trapped.

He screamed and shoved me away. I slammed against the kitchen wall, my head jerking against the unyielding tiles. I felt warm water ooze out from my skull and crimson bathe the white. I sank to my knees. He was still screaming as I lazily looked up. The rose. The rose stuck to his chest as he clawed at it. He clawed at his flesh retching out chunks of it. Pieces of him rained to the floor in sickly globs of ooze. His flesh began to smoke, then burn, then flame. He burst into flames as he screamed and clawed and cursed. I could not make out the words he screamed. They were to alien. My vision blurred as I felt a puddle of crimson pool around beneath me. I smiled weakly as he burned and writhed and cursed. Fuck you, you bastard. Go back the fuck where you came from. Go back to hell. I cursed under my breath as I felt the last of my life seep away.

It went dark. Inky dark. Warm and safe. Like a thick velvet blanket. I opened my eyes and in the dark I saw a shape. A shadow within the shadow. I knew I should be afraid but I wasn’t. I was calm. At peace. The shadow approached me. It reached out to me and took my hand. It was warm…and familiar. He lifted me to my feet and the darkness was bathed in white light. Patrick. Beautiful Patrick smiled back at me.

“My beautiful Kat. I have missed you. I have always loved you. I have missed you…”

Alice in Underland

Alice in Underwald

The forest was still. Not a creature stirred. The air held its breath. The dark was thick. Thick and heavy. Like black tar. Fog drifted over the forest floor like a dense carpet of white smoke. A twig snapped. And another, followed by another. The creatures of the night scurried away as something stumbled noisily through the pitch dark. A woman ran through the forest blindly, stumbling and scraping. Her golden flaxen hair flew behind like a trail of light. Her skirt was torn and shorn as brambles and branches grabbed at her lithe body, wanting purchase, hungering for her. She looked back over her shoulder and her crystal blue eyes tried to pierce the darkness as she ran forward. She tripped. She fell. Her white stockings tore and turned from snow white to crimson red as the various cuts and breaks on her knees stained the soft material. She huffed and puffed on all fours as she tried to catch her breath. A voice screamed inside her head “Don’t stop. Can’t stop. It is going to get you. Get up. Get up now and…run!”

She got up and began to run again. She heard the gurgle and roar behind her. It was coming. It was getting closer. If she stopped again it would get her. Her lungs burned as if she was inhaling fire. Her legs were hurting and bleeding from the various cuts. Her muscles screamed as the tendons whipped them raw. She can’t keep going…but she must. The voice screamed “Don’t stop. Can’t stop. Don’t let it get you. Don’t stop Alice.” She kept running.

She reached a clearing. A break in the endless flood of threatening trees. The clearing was perfectly round. And the grass emerald green. Wild flowers littered the grass in sprays of crimsons and golds and violets. In the center of the clearing was a white door. Just a door. No wall, no building, no celling. Just…a door. She edged towards the door. The tall grass whispered secrets and lies. She stalked closer and closer towards the door. It stood implacid like a white monolith. “No Alice…don’t” the silent voice screamed. She touched the glassy black nob. She screamed and pulled her hand back. It burned with icy fire. She watched as it began to melt and sizzle. She spun around as she heard the monstrous howl. It was getting closer. She turned back to the door. This may be her only escape. She watched as the black turned to an icy blue as it began to drip in pools of mirrored glass. She reached out and grimaced as the thing bit into her flesh. She turned the handle and shoved the door open and tumbled inside.

She knelt on all fours. Her hands and knees touching cool white tiles. She moaned as her bruised knees screamed. She sat back onto her haunches and sighed. She didn’t hear the howling anymore. She looked to her hands. The one she opened the door with stung a violent red. It looked like blood staining her hands red. She wiped her hand against her white apron as she rose to her feet. She teetered on her Mary Jane heels as she tried to readjust to the firm floor after the uneven and broken land of the dark forest. She slowly turned to the door behind her but only a wall remained. A smooth white tiled wall. She cocked her head to her shoulder and said “Curioser and curioser.” She turned back to the room. It was a long hall way with many more white doors jutting out on either side. She grinned as she began to walk down the hall. Her stilettos clicking and clacking as she walked, her smooth white stockings hissed as they rubbed against her thighs as she walked. She felt warm even though her dress was short and revealing. She past door upon door. Which one would she take? She wondered.

She reached one of the doors. She looked at it. It called to her softly. She smiled and reached out. The door swung open and dark hands grabbed her and pulled her in. She screamed as the countless shadow hands pulled at her and tugged at her. They tore at her dress shredding it. She screamed and writhed and kicked and bucked but they were too many. They were too strong. They pulled her into the darkness, deeper and deeper still. Far in the distance she could make out a pin-prick of light. A single shard against the all-surrounding darkness. The hands pulled her closer as she fought. The light grew brighter and brighter. She heard the howl. It had found her. It was closer now. It was going to get her if she could not escape.

There, in the center of the shard of white light, was a chair. A single lonely observation chair, like those in a dentist’s office…or in a doctor’s office. There beside the chair stood a lanky tall man, hunched slightly under his own height. He wore a long dilapidated top hat and an evil grin. She screamed as he looked at her.

“Wwweee havvve been waiting for yooouuu Aliccce.” He slurred and hissed. The hands guided her further and forced her into the chair. They strapped her down dressed now only in her lingerie and stockings and heels. She felt like she was in some demented adult film. Her wrists were strapped above her head and her legs spread. She pulled and bucked and screamed but she was trapped. Helpless. Vulnerable. She heard the howl and she stared into the darkness. She saw nothing but her own reflection staring back at her and she screamed as the Hatter edged closer with a syringe. The cold metal pierced her pale skin and a tiny ruby of blood pearled as the yellow liquid flowed out of the glass and into her thirsty veins. She screamed in silence.

She sat staring at a quick-silver mirror at the girl in the chair being assaulted by faceless horrors. She smiled as she screamed and writhed. She was glad that it was not her there, half-naked and exposed and vulnerable. She was glad she was not the victim of some sadistic freak in a top hat. She was glad that she was not about to become some helpless sacrifice to the beast that kept howling. At the same time she felt a sense of impending doom and dread as she frowned and shed a single crimson tear. She knew something was wrong but she could not figure it out. A tiny silent voice pleaded “Alice please wake up. You need to get up and come back.” She swatted at the talking gnat buzzing in her ear as she stood up and dusted herself down. She gave the girl on the other side of that water-like mirror a wave and wished her luck before heading off towards the crashing waves of a crimson ocean and red sands. She strode along the shore line and saw a red door. Just a door. No walls. No building. No ceiling…just a door. She stared at it while biting her crimson lip. Her lip pearl a drop of ruby as she anxiously decided not to go to the door. It simply did not feel right. So she turned and walked in the opposite direction towards a rickety old wooden shed with a glowing red sign flickering in the fading morning light.

She knocked. Silence. She knocked again. Still no sound from within. She pushed softly at the door and it slowly creaked open. She peered inside and asked quietly “Hello? Anybody home?” The shed seemed empty. She stepped inside and looked around. It seemed like a small diner. There was a wooden counter and some seats placed along the one side. There was three plates placed at every alternate spot. The plates seemed half eaten. She looked around again. No chef. No waiters. No diners. She stepped in further as she looked around nervously. Six booths with three alternate servings…still no diners. She called out again. “Hellooo? Mmmm…curiouser and curiouser.” She shrugged and sat at the counter. She crossed her shapely legs and swung it playfully. She looked around again. She was feeling kind of hungry. She looked at the plate next to her. It was a plate of cooked clams. She licked her crimson lips. She grabbed the plate and pulled it closer. She looked at the soupy broth and the floating clams. They sure looked yummy. She picked up a spoon and swirled at it. The clams bobbed and swam. She cornered a clam with her spoon and wretched the shell open. She peered inside and fished the meat of the clam out. She yelled and dropped the spoon and clam. The shock of seeing the wrinkled infant screaming silently at her made her stomach turn. She clambered off the seat and ran to the corner and retched up bile and water. Her body convulsed and bucked as she tried to get rid of the image.

She fell to her knees and gasped for breath. Her body was weak and broken but at least the image was gone. She slowly got up to her feet and turned back to the diner. Her jaw fell open as the walls had begun to run with liquid red rust. It oozed like blood from a seeping wound. She backed up against the door as the flood flowed closer and closer. She slammed her back against the door. She was trapped. She tugged at the handle but it would not budge. She began screaming and turned and began kicking and punching the door.

“Open the fuck up.” She screamed and cursed the door. She spun back to the interior of the room. The river was almost upon her. It had already stained the counters and booths in a sickly wet sanguine. She pressed her back hard against the door and squeezed her eyes shut. Just at that moment the door flung open and she fell backwards into a dark cellar. She rocked back up off her back into a sitting position. The door. The shed. The blood-red ocean and crimson sands…all gone. She looked around to try make out where she was. It looked somehow familiar but she could not place it. She slowly got up and dusted herself down. She looked down and saw she was wearing a blue and white midi dress with frills and white panty hose and flat Mary Janes. She frowned. “Was I wearing this earlier? I can’t seem to remember.”

“Well hello there…” said a smooth mewing voice. She spun around to the corner where it had originated but there was nothing there.

“Hello?” She called.

“I already said hello. Why would I greet you again?” The voice teased.

“But I don’t see anybody there.”

“Well that is because you are looking but you do not see. You are like a pair of glasses.”

“I don’t think I understand.”

“There’s your problem…you are not thinking Alice.” The voice kept teasing.

“I didn’t tell you my name.” She replied feeling somewhat nervous. She begins to squint as she tried to figure out where the voice was coming from. She was rewarded as she began to make out the outlines of a toothy smile. That was followed by a bobbing furry head, grey furry body and a swishing tail. She backed away as the dark corner that seemed empty not too long ago was suddenly filled by a cat. A fat grey mangy grinning cat. Now the fact that the corner that was empty is not any more did not disturb her as much as the fact that the cat had a…human face. She caught a scream.

“Ah…now you see me. Good…now we can talk.” The cat purred.

“So, are you lost?” It asked.

“I think so. I am not sure where I am.” She replied sheepishly.

“Ok, so where is it you want to go?”

“I don’t know…I guess it doesn’t really matter.”

“Well then Alice my dear…you can’t be lost if you don’t care where you are going.” It retorted.

Alice was getting mad. She stomped her foot and shouted “Don’t speak to me like that. I am not a child. And how do you know my name? I didn’t tell you.”

“Oh but Alice you did…the day you came into my house and killed my family. You made sure we all knew your name. See?” The cat was changing. It was beginning to become desiccated. It seemed to be rotting right before Alice’s eyes. Its fur began to fall out and its flesh began to shrivel up and dry. Its eyes turned white and its grin became skeletal. Alice screamed at the sight and turned to flee the sight. The voice that was once soothing and smooth became an agonised screech.

“Wwwwerrrre aaarrre yyyooouuu goooooing Alllicccce? Wwwweeee not done talking. Yyyyoouuu havvvve not yet seeeen.” It began to cackle. It sounded like glass shattering. Alice ran up the stairs and threw the cellar door open. She fell. It felt like forever falling. She fell and kept falling. She saw the ground rising up to meet her but it seemed to never happen. Just then she was on the kitchen floor. She gasped and coughed as she slowly, painfully pushed herself up. She looked around and grinned. Yeah this is the place. She stepped towards the counter and grabbed the red painted spoon. She held it blade down as she stepped into the living room. There they were, sitting watching TV.

She skipped inside. Her mommy and daddy were sitting on the couch watching their shows. She skipped inside and jumped on his lap. He held her and she smiled. She missed this. But how was possible? She had just seen them minutes ago but it felt like an eternity. He held them and they began to tickle her. She laughed and squirmed.

“No daddy…stop.” she giggled. He stopped and stared at her with a blank expression. An expression as a mask of shock and anguish. She looked at him and smiled. “What is wrong daddy?” He looked at her and hissed “Whhhyyyy Alllicccce?”

She sat back and slipped off his lap and looked at him. The spoon (butcher knife) stood up in his chest in a pool of red paint. His head lolled and stared at her with blank glazed-over eyes and a grimace of fear and doubt. He slowly turned his head to his wife and stretched out his hand. Her face and neck were painted in sanguine. It had rolled down her chest and pooled beneath her. Her smile carved into her face, ear-to-ear. Her eyes stared at the ceiling lifeless and emotionless. Alice shut her eyes tight and screamed. An icy cold hand touched her shoulder and leaned in close. She smelted the rot and sulphur in its breath as it spoke.

“Don’t worry Alice. I have you now.” howled the Jabba Wocky behind her. She shivered as she shook her head. She clutched her head. It was throbbing. She felt the blood rush through her veins. She heard her heart rumble and threaten to burst out her chest. The icy touch began burning her flesh. She tried to wretch away but its claws dug into her shoulder and anchored her.

“Open your eyes Alice. Look. See. See our works. See our…artworks.” The malignant voice taunted. She shook her head. “no.” she whispered too afraid. She felt hot tears burn down her cheek staining deep cracks of acidic pain. “What have you done?” She accused. It laughed. It sounded like razor sharp claws dragged sadistically over a chalk board. “Me? No Alice. Not me. Us. You and I. We did this…together. Look. See.” She opened her eyes and looked in terror at the two on the couch. Their dead empty eyes accusing her. Cursing her. She screamed and pulled out of its grip. Its claws took a part of her shoulder as she pulled away. She screamed in pain but she didn’t stop. She ran. She ran towards the red oozing door. No wall. No building. No ceiling. Just a door. A red wet oozing door. A door dripping of blood and gore. A door silently accusing her. She slammed against the door with her wounded shoulder. She rammed and slammed. She screamed and cursed. She begged and pleaded. Finally the door gave her purchase and she tumbled inside.

The ground fell away from under her feet. She tumbled and fell in slow motion. Portraits and photo frames rained upwards past her face. She looked at them as if they were memories of a life that was not her, but she remembered them. She fell downwards as her memories rained upwards. She fell as a crumbled mess on a patch of green sweet smelling grass. She sobbed as she tried to wash the image of the death masks of her parents from her scarred brain. Slowly the images faded as she gingerly lifted herself off the patch of grass. She sat down and crossed her legs as she looked around confused. The world was black and thick. It seemed like nothing existed beyond her field of vision. She could have sworn she heard chattering in the distance, like the squealing of metal wheels on tiled floor. She backed up away from the sound as it faded away into the distance of the infinite inky night landscape. She backed up into a solid mass behind her. She started and shied away and turned to face the object. It was a tree. A large tree. A large, black tree. A large, black, gnarled tree. Its bark seemed to writhe and slither in the blackness. She slowly, gingerly got to her feet and regained her composure. She looked up at it. There were pale boards nailed to its trunk. She could smell the sap ooze from the holes the nails had felt in its trunk. It smelt metallic and sharp. She looked at the boards. They were pale and hard looking with writing etched into the surface. There were words. She strained to make them out. They were hard to read.

this way come this way

no that way…go that way

back here come back here

forward always forward

GO AWAY!

lost forever lost

found what you are looking for?

As she was trying to make sense of the words she felt a cold slither at her smooth stocking clad legs. She looked down and saw a slimy colourful caterpillar. It slithered past her and up onto a mushroom that towered above her. She craned her neck downwards to look up at it. It glared at her and asked menacingly

“O R U?” smoke billowed from its mouth.

“Erm…I am not sure I understand.” she replied nervously.

“I said ‘whO aRe yoU?”. She saw the empathised letters etched out in the smoke. She chortled as she finally understood.

“Ohh…*giggle*…my name is Alice. Erm…could you tell me where I am? I seem to be lost.” She enquired.

“How can you be lost if you don’t know where you are?” The worm retorted while sucking deep on a hookah pipe. She looked up at the worm and frowned.

“But if I do not know where I am then I must be lost.”

“Ok…so where are you going?” It asked not really seeming to care as it wound its bulbous body around the hookah.

“Erm…well…to be honest I don’t really know.” She replied looking around her feeling the dark begin to close in.

It laughed as it dragged deep on the purple smoke before bellowing it out “Then what does it matter where you are if you don’t know where you are going?”

She started to feel very frustrated “Listen you fat little worm. I will know when I get there…not that it is any of your business anyways.”

“Mmmmm…Me thinks she is a little confused…” He said to nothing.

Nothing replied “And very confused too…”

She stamped her foot and huffed.

“Fine I will find my own way then.” She looked back at the tree. It writhed and squirmed. It seemed to moan silently in pain. She saw a trickle of sap dripping from beneath one of the boards. She touched it. It was sticky and red like…blood. She stumbled backwards as the light around the tree brightened. She saw for the first time it was not a tree but countless writhing bodies nailed together to form a grotesque living tree of squirming limbs. She gasped as the pained faces screamed out at her and nailed limbs reached out to grab her. She turned to run as she saw the caterpillar’s shape contort and reform into the beast that has been chasing her.

“Commme bacccck Aliccccce…Weeee neeeed yoouuuu…” It hissed as the worm painfully became the Jabba Wocky and took flight behind her. She ran into the darkness. She struggled and strained as the blackness dragged at her feet like a thick morass. It began pulling her down. She felt her feet begin to sink as the morass pulled her down. She looked back over her shoulder and screamed as the beast flew closer and closer as she sank deeper and deeper. She clawed at the thick viscous liquid as it swallowed her. Her head sank beneath the unmoving waves of the tar-like darkness. At least the beast could not get her…but was she really off better?

Deeper and deeper she sank. Colour vanished as the air was pressed out of her lungs by the oppressive thick darkness. Deeper and deeper, further and further she sank until her feet lightly touch black tile. She felt air return to her lungs as she slowly dropped to her knees. She gasped for air as the stale wind refilled her lungs. She looked up slowly, like moving through syrup. She saw a light break through the darkness. She crawled towards the lightly slowly and deliberately. She pressed her hands against the cold wet surface and looked in. Just beyond the blackness was a room bathed in white light. People. Live people. Living people. Walking, talking. She banged against the glass silently and screamed through the thickness. They did not respond. They were too busy looking down at a girl strapped down onto a bed. She stared at them and screamed wordlessly but they did not listen, could not hear. She tried to see who it that was fascinating them was. A girl, just a girl. Nothing extraordinary…but very familiar at the same time.

Suddenly, like a blast of realisation she recognised the blonde girl that was accosted by the tall man in the tall hat. But there was more…she looked more familiar than that. It was almost like…she was looking in a mirror. Oh gawds…the girl was…HER…

“I am afraid that she will not be able to stand trial gentlemen. She is lost. Her mind is trapped.” the doctor said. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and put his top hat on. He turned to the two men behind him. He sighed. “I have done what I can but I am afraid that her dementia is too intense. She is completely catatonic. She has very little knowledge of what is happening outside her world.”

“Will she ever wake up doctor?” Inquired the younger blonde detective with a tone of concern. The doctor shrugged and shook his head.

“There is no way of telling. Like other forms of catatonia, she could wake up tomorrow. She could never wake up. There is simply no way of telling.” The doctor glanced back at the girl strapped down. The beautiful young blonde lying prone and vulnerable. He shook his head in worry. He looked at the mirror behind her facing him. He could see the room reflected back at him. A small part of him hoped that she was in that world. A world separate from this one.

She slammed her fists against the silvered window. She screamed silently for help. For escape. She wanted out. She wanted to be free. She slammed and screamed and cursed. She looked over her shoulder in terror. It howled in the dark shadows. It had found her. It was getting closer. It was coming to take her. She turned back to the window and cried for help. She saw the doctor look at her but did nothing. Why was he not doing anything? Why was he not helping? Why was he just standing there?

He looked at the mirror and squinted. He could have sworn he saw the mirror shake ever so slightly. He laughed at himself and shook his head as he turned his back on the terribly depressing room. The white door slowly swung closed and a loud clang locked the door in place. The three men walked down the long white corridor strewn on either side with countless doors. Screams and howls and curses and hisses emanating from these rooms. The three men walked down the corridor talking among themselves as the screams continued.

In The Absence Of Light He Finds You

In The Absence Of Light He Finds You

The flashlight’s light looks like a lost pin prick in the vastness of the thick, inky darkness. It surrounds Sarah like a black velvet shroud and threatens to swallow her whole. She remembers how, when she was younger, she believed something in the dark was out to get her. She remembers, when she got older, thinking how silly that was. She doesn’t think that it is silly anymore…

*** 

It all started a few weeks ago when, as a psychology student at Tukkies, she sat in a session with a teenager named Gary that who suffered from night terrors. She recalled listening to his stories and experiences and felt a cold shiver down her spine. The story stuck with her like a bad song that runs continuously through your head, repeating itself over and over again. The boy believed he was being stalked and hunted by a presence that only comes out when there is no light. He spoke of the malevolent presence that wants to take him, devour him. She was reminded of the stories that her Gogo used to tell her and how many similarities there were. The only real difference was that the Tokolosh is traditionally a Zulu mythical figure where Gary is a white English boy, but besides that the stories were uncannily similar.

The last session was cancelled due to the fact that Gary had seemingly escaped from his locked cell the previous night. Nothing more could be done so Sarah decided that relaxing in the tub filled with hot water and bubbles and a glass of red wine in her hand, and Katie singing softly in her ears was just what the doctor ordered. Suddenly the lights in the flat went out and it gave her a start. It was slightly unnerving how  first there was light and now there was only complete darkness. Damn load-shedding. Sarah carefully climbed out of the warm bath and draped her bath robe over her lithe, wet body. She quietly and carefully opened the bathroom door and stepped out into her bedroom. The deep shadows created an otherworldly scene in her otherwise familiar bedroom. What was that? She started. She could have sworn something moved. Of course that wasn’t possible. There was nobody there but her. The darkness and the memories of Gary’s story stirred at the melting pot of her vivid imagination. Fear of the dark, what nonsense she tried to reassure herself. She slowly headed for the wardrobe and took out her flashlight. She flicked on the flashlight.

There it was again. She could have sworn she saw movement. As if something scurried away from the light. She shone the flashlight over to where she imagined she saw the movement and saw…nothing. That story must really have gotten to me, she thought. She moved towards the kitchen to get some candles when she stopped suddenly and began breathing heavily. She definitely saw movement out of the corner of her eye. Sarah was almost too scared to shine the light in that direction, she may not like what she sees but she needed to know. Sarah slowly slid the shaft of yellow light towards the movement but saw nothing. What is going on? she thought to herself.  Could this be somebody’s idea of a sick joke? She moved the flashlight’s beam of white light  around the small living room in an attempt to find the intruder but it was as if it melted away before the light. There! Towards the kitchen. No! There by the window. Sarah frantically swung the flashlight back and forth making it look like one of those swords from that sci-fi movie, and try as she may she could just not get a fix on the intruder.

Sarah backed up against the wall and looked towards her flat door. Only a few strides away but it may as well be miles away for all that it mattered. Sarah could feel the terror well up inside of her. What was she afraid of? She wasn’t a child. She wasn’t afraid of the dark. She was a logical, educated, young lady. She sank to the floor as the panic took over completely. She could feel the thing move towards her. Hungering for her. Wanting to devour her. She held the flashlight  up close to her face. The warm yellow light offered little solace as she sensed the thing in the dark creeping closer and closer.

*** 

She remembers when she was younger she was scared of the dark and now that she is older how silly it was. But now, as the light begins to flicker, she doesn’t think it is that silly any more…

For my valentine

I just wanted to phone
To tell you I love you.
I just wanted to call
To say how much I care.
I just needed to send a message
To make it clear that there is nobody but you.
I just felt it necessary to let you know
You are the only thing that makes my world seem fair.
I just wanted to reach out and 
I wish I was there to hold you tight.
Keep you warm.
Keep you safe.
Like you keep my heart warm and safe...