Extension short story
07 Jun 2004Draft #1 – 1930 words (target: 1000)
Assessment Task 1: Imaginative Composition
It is said that the fall into darkness was unavoidable – an event which must occur for the fulfilment of some cause, lost in time. Something lost in thousands of years of lecherous existence, millennia over which others had fallen to the cause of this dark being who, so desiring to make things ‘right’, at least within the contorted reckonings of his own mind, abandoned all in pursuit of this darkness. It was, perhaps, better, for those whom he was dependent upon for his un-life, that they were stripped of all conciousness and will when devoured by his ineluctable hunger.
At this point, they too became subject to a need to sustain their own un-life, created when their true meaning and purpose was removed from them. Following the footsteps of their keeper, bound under him, they engaged their retribution on others — and so the cycle continued, hundreds drawn under this curse. What, exactly, is this thing which is to be so feared? It is the decimation of any sense of self identity or existence, substituted with a perpetual cycle of… of robotic, mindless, blind repetition of the motions instigated by the first to fall. To be feared? Not in itself — although, it must be said, immortality as nothing is worse than frail existence within which life may exist. Any fear is not the conventional one of pain, or other suffering — but of nothing. Not of the unknown — simply of a denial of experience.
This fear did nothing for most, of course — the inevitable was only prolonged. The world was slowly falling to the grasp of this lifeless dictator. For most. There was one, it was said, who would possess the qualities to overpower and destroy this man, releasing the world from an age of bondage under an empty master.
—-
Karl Riley drifted in alternating states of conciousness. An alarm sounded loudly next to him, and he jerked upright, slamming a closed fist down on the keypad of his mobile. Groaning, he rolled in a twisting motion, bringing himself to a sitting position. It was two in the morning, and apparently he was needed immediately at work. Muttering something about overtime, he dressed, left his apartment, and started droving to the support-center, stopping only to grab coffee from an all-night convenience store.
As he turned to return to his car, the lights of the convenience store flickered, before failing. Hearing the sales assistant swearing, Karl walked in darkness to his car. A cloaked figure moved along the street, towards him, making no attempt at concealment. He reached Karl’s car first, and stood, waiting at the driver side door.
“Err… hi?” said Karl, questioningly.
The figure stood, silent and motionless, his face in darkness.
“Sorry, that’s my car. I need to go. It’s two-twenty on a Thursday morning, and I have ten minutes to get to work. What are you doing?”
Without speech, he moved aside, and continued to walk along the street. Glancing cautiously, Karl unlocked his car, sat down, and again locked the doors from the inside. He turned to pull his seatbelt, and again turned back to fasten it. As he looked up from his task, his eyes locked with two perspicacious, penetrating eyes, of the figure he had seen moments before, fixated to the window of his car.
Tearing his gaze from this apparition, Karl turned the keys, gunned the engine, and tore off down an otherwise-deserted street. Breathing heavily, he reached shakily for his coffee.
“Wake up Karl, wake up,” he repeated over to himself. “Wake up Karl, wake up, wake up, wake up, WAKE UP!”, he found himself shouting. Except it wasn’t his voice he heard shouting. It had come from behind him.
He leant his weight on the brake of the car, and it shuddered to a halt in the middle of the street. His seatbelt caught him, and he turned to the back seat of the car, where the man sat, indifferent to Karl’s driving abilities, speaking now, in mocking tones – “Wake up, Karl. Wake up.” He stopped speaking, and reached a hand forwards to firmly grip Karl’s shoulder.
His rancid breath permeated the car, and Karl shuddered at his touch.
“Am I awake?” asked Karl, now unsure of anything. His grip tightened, and Karl winced from the physical pain of it.
“Yes.”
“What is happening?”
“You are to be freed from awareness.”
With that, he loosened his grip on Karls shoulder, instead reaching for his neck. He moved his face closer, the breath becoming stronger, more potent, more repulsive. His mouth almost upon Karls throat, he saw a cross, strung around his neck. Violently, he pulled away, breaking through the back window of the car, and vanishing into the night.
Skeptically, Karl glanced out the back window, still wondering if he really was awake.
“He broke my window.”
—-
Arriving at work half an hour late, covered in spilt coffee and broken glass, his supervisor, Lara, looked dubiously at Karl, but didn’t ask questions. “There’s a package on your desk” was the extent of conversation that morning. A package? Delivered between when he had left work at 5:30 the previous night and now?
Somewhat intrigued, he opened the package. A potent aroma diffused around the room, as three pieces of garlic rolled from the package and onto his desk. A dagger followed — as though the garlic wasn’t surprise enough. Staring at his workspace as though offended by the presence of these strange objects, they stoically remained through his many blinks of disbelief.
A person passed in the corridor, sniffing curiously. Apparently satisfied that the smell was simply garlic, they continued on their duties.
Karl peered into the UPS bag, finding a letter inside it.
You are being watched. This package carries garlic that it may not be intercepted. You learnt, tonight, of the forces of evil which remain hidden from society at large — these forces would not have you read this, would not have you learn of them. You are the key to conclude thousands of years of lechery at the hands of these… creatures. They are the un-dead, an accursed people fallen under the grasp of the evil one. It is said that there would be one who could crush this master, freeing thousands from his grasp, and ultimately saving humanity. This one is you. Enclosed with this letter is a dagger, forged from silver — this is the weapon with which you must destroy him, by piercing his heart. The attack on you tonight was not imagined: your attacker was the one who must be destroyed.
“Hmm…” muttered Karl, “So, I’m supposed to go around wielding a piece of silver that arrived in the late evening in a FedEx bag, stabbing anyone who looks shady and wears black?”
The phone rang.
“Karl Riley” he answered.
“No.”
“I’m sorry?”
“No, you are not to go around stabbing anyone. The man who attacked you tonight. He is the one you must destroy.”
“How…” Karl looked at the display on his phone. Caller ID resolved the number to an internal extension — 107. “How do you…”
“Nevermind. I can assure you, extension 107 does not exist,” the voice said, apparently getting louder, “but I do.”
Those last words were heard not on the phone, but from behind Karl, coming from Lara. She wasn’t holding a phone.
“Hello.”
“Umm… hi. How do you know all this?”
“There are many who know of this evil, but few of us who are empowered to act. Lara, whose body I now occupy, knows nothing of this. She, like most of humanity, will never be aware of the darkness amongst them. You are elected to serve, you are burdened with this knowledge. It is for you to act.”
With that, the figure of Lara flickered and disappeared into the air, leaving Karl sitting, at a loss.
—-
He returned to his apartment, with no word as to why he had been called into work. He assumed it was associated with the other events of the night, although how, he didn’t know.
The new messages indicator flashed on his phone.
“You have… seven new messages.”
“Seven?!” he exclaimed, unbelieving.
The messages began to play.
“Hey Karl, what’s up? Phil here. You coming into work today? Gimme a buzz sometime, okay?”
“Hi Karl, Chris calling — missed you at work today, everything okay?”
“Hey, it’s Steph. Where you been the past few days?”
“Karl, Lara here. Pick up the phone. Are you there? Karl? Where have you been the last week?”
There were another three to play, but Karl slammed a fist down on the machine, and it stopped.
“It’s five A.M., on a Thursday. I was at work twenty minutes ago. I left work yesterday at half past five. Lara saw me at work this morning! Why do they think I’ve been missing for over a week?”
Cautiously, he checked the date on his watch.
“What…” he began to speak. The phone rang. He answered, and a voice began speaking: “I am coming to destroy you. I am the undead one, whom you encountered some time ago — a week, exactly. Do not wonder about time, for soon you shall exist, immortal and outside of such petty constraints.”
Karl listened as the line went dead. He placed down the phone, and collapsed on the floor, his vision obscured by tears of confusion and desperation. A bird-like silhouette flickered past his window, casting a moon-lit shadow over the figure of Karl. He heard a voice, with no apparent physical origin — it chanted softly, enveloping, surrounding him — no words were spoken, at least, none which he could comprehend, but it was of no consequence. A second voice could be heard, at first quiet, but gaining, growing louder. This voice was guttural, violent, harsh. Formed words came in its’ speech, although Karl could not know their meaning.
The first voice began to speak in thoughts to him — he did not recognise the words themselves, but comprehended, nonetheless. It was telling him to stand, to walk. He could not see… shapes moved in his vision, as the two voices raged and fought against each other. He felt himself being directed, walking, moving towards the table where he had laid the FedEx envelope. Reaching, knowing exactly where to go, directed perfectly, he lifted the knife from the envelope.
He felt the second voice shift inside his head — his vision of shapes became darker, reddening, as though maddened by the touch of silver. The sounds were tortuous, a resonant scream penetrating his being, feeling as though the presence of the knife would burn his body in two.
A strangled voice rasped at him, “RELEASE THE KNIFE”, commanding forcefully, even in the midst of its agony. Karl was compelled, held still, under the desire of the soft, yet powerful first voice. Remaining with the knife seemed unbearable, but releasing it? Karl grasped it feverishly, unable to bring himself to let it fall, trapped between pain and… and he did not know what else. The words of the letter drifted in his mind, as though in a thick fog.
…there would be one who could crush this master… you must destroy him, by piercing his heart…
With agonising realisation, he felt his arm pull the knife away from his body, only to bring it towards him, plunging it deep, into his heart.
The voices ceased. He was alone, on the floor of his kitchen, fist held tightly around the knife, dying.
Comments, corrections, etc. are more than welcome. I’m not even sure if this is finished – I may end up adding to it, although I’ll have to halve it in size for submission, at any rate. Meh.