STORY OR PART THEREOF THAT I HAVEN'T FINISHED YET
I started this story in i think 05, and have never managed to finish it, although, i think it may be coming to somewhat of a conclusion now, im in the final stages, i always have trouble trying to end stories, but im tryin, want to get it done
anwyas here is the first chunk of it,it's pretty long and has been reworked a few times, but this is getting pretty edited, anyways, ima gonna break it up into chunks and hopefully write the end at the same time
it was all based on a dream
The sky is kind of dark smudged and angry, the air is somehow violent.
I’m shuffling along at a rapid and yet tired pace, my legs are numb and the walls slide past fast yet I still feel slow, the atmosphere around me is sticky and I am languid and morose, yet switched onto an autopilot of some sort, which keeps me striding the streets.
The subtle scent of the first jasmine somehow permeates through the miasma of other smells; burning scent of the beer factory and the odour of human waste, sweat and vomit, piss and blood.
Broken bottles and used syringes line the gutters and I detect another less familiar smell, I stop for a moment and tensely taste the air, there is an acrid tang tonite with a strong sulphuric smoky edge.
I walk on with every muscle taut, the normal roar of the inner city suburbs is dulled as I listen intently, there seems to be more sirens than usual, I hear glass smashing, there is smoke, I quicken my pace and fumble in my pocket, hold my keys in my fist, it’s definitely smoke, I can see it now, a darkness up ahead making the dim alleys darker, as I get as nearer toward the train station I am heading to.
I can now hear people screaming and swearing and maybe someone crying, I think there’s someone approaching, it’s late at night and the streets are empty so I duck to the side of the alleyway I’m walking through, step behind some overflowing dumpster bins and angle my body flat so I can see who approaches, yet they can’t see me.
It looks like two young children on bikes, but I stay where I am, I know how dangerous some of these kids can be.
As I watch them ride, one of them seemed to be wavering, then topples over and lies still on the ground, the upright figure throws their bike to the side and rushes over to the other small prostrate body and crouches there and starts shaking it, making an making an awful broken keening.
It’s the saddest and most grief stricken sound I’ve ever heard, takes over the growing ruckus of what sounds like warfare up ahead.
On several occasions before I’ve heard the sharp reports of pistols and occasional shotguns, but this sounds different, there’s a series of thundering rattling gunfire, punctuated by heavy thumping explosions and the almost continual shattering of glass, all overlaid by this sad wailing.
The smoke is thicker, my skin crawls and I’m sweating in the cool spring night, the breeze is suddenly hot, it smells like smoke and I feel a metallic blood taste in my mouth, extreme fear hits me for a moment and my tongue is dry. Momentarily I am frozen, I feel as if my heart has stopped beating, and then it slams a mile a minute, enough to try to punch it’s way though the front of my chest, I gasp for breath and run in a standing crouch toward the kids.
“ Are you O.K?” I’m saying, my voice is harsh and unfamiliar through my parched throat and as I’m saying the words I’m wishing I could take them back, as I see the blood covering both children, the inert form limp and lifeless, what a stupid question, I think, the child clutching tight to their still companion, seems to be about 8 or nine years old, a young boy, white t-shirt becoming drenched as the blood starts to seep in an increasing pool.
He wears a black cap set backward against a face of grief; I watch his face age and sadden in those few moments under the streetlights, which turns the pool of blood to black.
His mouth is contorted in the never ending wail, but it starts to be drowned out by another round of gunshots, more glass shattering, this time closer, I’m skidding to my knees on the road next to them.
“ What’s happening?” I ask him softly. He draws in a deep raking breath, the person he holds appears to be a little younger than him or smaller anyway, dressed the same in t-shirt and shorts, skate shoes and cap backwards. It’s hard to tell if the other child is a girl or a boy but to me the face looks a little softer and feminine, I would say a little girl, but one thing was definite, she was quite obviously very close to death. The pool of blood silently continued to grow, touching my knees now, soaking into the fabric of my denim jeans, it feels warm and the bitumen is coarse under my knees.
‘ Awwwww me sis” he moans, he has stopped shaking her and gently touches her still face, the entire front of her body and most of his is stained in blood.
Her body under her shirtfront looks to be a pulpy mess, a final sigh exhales from her damaged lungs and a large bubble of blood emerges from her lips, then bursts and dribbles down her chin.
“Aww FUCK.. No way..” tears course down his face “Fuck this I’m going to meet the makers..”
He spits as he closes her eyes and then pushes her away and stands up, her head hits the road in a way that makes me wince.
It’s as if he can’t see me as he grabs his bike and starts riding away from the commotions up ahead. I hear noises and shouting coming closer.
“Wait up kid!” I shout but he’s getting away further into the distance,
I think, fuck it, I grab the dead girls BMX and start riding after him.
Behind me there is people headed down the narrow alley, I’m riding the tiny bicycle after him, my bloodied knees hitting the handlebars, he’s gaining ground away from me, until I get my pedalling sorted, standing up in the pedals I chase his retreating figure away from the others who are getting closer, they are darting around and ducking in the shadows, one of them throws something which explodes into flame against the sky, I look behind and see them illuminated momentarily, faces covered by balaclavas or their own shirts, crouching bare-chested, coated in streaks of blood or oil stains turned all black in the streetlights.
I turn my head and chase harder after him, my heart is pumping with adrenaline, at some point I realise I still hold my keys clutched somehow in my fist, on my keys is a bottle opener that I can feel has embedded into my right palm clasped around the handle, it feels sticky and warm with my own blood.
I ignore it and pedal harder, he appears to be slowing and the crowd seems to be staying at the other end of the alley.
“Wait, wait kid..” I plead when I get closer; I’m close enough now to hear his hiccuping breathing, “ Hold on a minute, c’mon, we’ll be safer together.”
He stops his bike at that then turns and looks at me and laughs loudly
“No one is safe you fool.” He then gives me an unnerving smile and now I see his teeth are bloodstained and the childish face disappears for a moment and he grimaces, his face becomes a twisted mask, his eyes glowing in the darkness blue and white like hot embers, a deep voice uttering to me,
“ I have the mark, I’m going to meet the makers. It’s the only way to survive.”
Then his face flashes and he’s a child again, tearstains down his bloodied dirty cheeks.
“It’s the only way” he repeats in a more normal voice and starts again to ride away.
“What the fuck? Wait up..” I stammer and follow him, sirens are splitting the air, I see a car explode at the end of the alleyway, figures are dancing next to the flames and what looks like in it, guns spit and crack, I follow the kid.
He stops and throws his bike aside, starts walking down the embankment next to the train tracks, he turns and spits, and his spit lands frothed and reddish black on the ground.
“ Come down here” he says over his shoulder, I toss the dead girls bike and struggle after him, pulling the blunt metal of the bottle opener out of the raw flesh of my palm, I shove my keys in my pocket. I’m skidding and slipping my way through weeds and rubble, falling and starting to slide, he leaps nimbly toward the tracks and I scrape the last few meters on the seat of my jeans leaving smeared red right handprints on pieces of rubbish and rock that I try to grab at to slow my descent.
I tumble ungracefully at his feet where he waits with a smirk of disdain.
“Get up” he says and starts to walk away from me “ we gotta long way to go” I scrabble to my feet, he’s headed away from the station toward the closest viaduct, he’s nimble in the dark and I’m blundering, cursing, pleading with him to slow down, then saving my breath and kicking my way after him and he stops in the shadows of the wall edge, his eyes are huge, terrified, they stand out white in the gloom.
“It’s the only way.” He says in a forlorn little boys voice and then disappears into the darkness of the viaduct. I hesitate only a moment before following him, reaching for my lighter in my pocket, in the city skylines it seems as if the lights have gone out, and darkness was spreading followed by tongues of fire in yellow and red and white hot sheets of electricity crackled along the electricity lines, I wonder about trains coming through, inching along close to the tracks, the sirens are deafening, I’m kicking gravel that sparks on the train tracks, they look hot I bend down and touch them, they are hot and vibrate with a distant electric hum. I back away from the humming tracks and that’s when I feel something hit me hard and with intent on the back of the head, and an arm goes around my neck and a hand over my mouth cutting off my startled shout.
I’m dragged further into the dark of the viaduct, struggling and suffocating for breath and panic kicks in and I start kicking and biting trying to escape, the person holding me is strong and doesn’t let go of me even when I bite deeply into the palm of his hand, I can feel that it is a male holding me, larger than me, trapping my arms behind my back.
I’m terrified now, struggling now to breathe, crying, it’s clogging up my nose and I’m spluttering, the taste of his blood in my mouth, I can’t breathe and it’s making me dizzy, I feel myself starting to lose consciousness, dark electric sky is fading to black as I’m dragged along next to the train tracks.
Fade to black.
Awakening. I’m lying on my side, curled up and with my hands bound firmly behind my back, my ankles are bound as well, I’m lying on bare concrete it feels like and my body aches in almost every place, I feel myself shuddering against the tight bindings, it is soft cotton rope but tied very securely, they feel tighter every time I move, so I lie very still, trying to get my bearings.
I’m wearing the same clothes I had on, my ripped and bloody jeans, and t-shirt, under a hooded jumper and a light waterproof jacket on top.
I can feel the hood of my jumper and my hair on the back of my head are sticky with dried blood and my head is still swimming, I’m trying to focus my eyes, but it’s difficult. The air seems very colourful, i feel almost as if I’m hallucinating. I blink again and I’m staring sideways at a large painted design on a rough concrete wall. I make out my surroundings from the light of two gas camping stoves hissing in two different corners of the room.
I’m lying roughly in the centre of a small square room, there isn’t a lot to see, the room is bare except for the elaborate and intricate graffiti designs on each wall, I supposed the door must be behind me because I couldn’t see one. I feel utterly stiff and rigid. Every time I move a little, the bonds tighten, but I can’t help shivering uncontrollably, my hands become numb before long as my screaming muscles awake.
My mouth is bone dry and tastes of blood, I can feel myself starting to panic, my breath grows into ragged hyperventilating gasps.
I try and muster my voice, my head is so painful, and it feels like it hurts too much to remember how to talk.
“Help.” I manage to croak, and my feeble voice echoes back, mocking me cruelly in the empty room. I feel ridiculous and stay quiet, trying to control my breathing. My throat feels tight and the ropes are hurting my hands and wrists unbearably. I am sobbing a little with frustration, as sobs wrack my chest the bonds grow even tighter, I’m trying to lie as still as possible but I can’t stop shuddering. I suppose I am in shock I think, with a clear eyed insight that feels like I am watching myself from a distance, I notice the absolute silence of the room as well, it’s quite eerie only hearing the echoes of pathetic sobs and whimpers and somewhere distant I can hear a slow liquid drip.
I hear a door open behind me, and the hair stands up on the back of my neck. I start struggling ineffectively against the ropes, they are biting cruelly into my flesh, I can feel them ripping skin open and starting to bleed.
“ Stop it” says a male voice behind me “ you’ll only make them harder to undo.” And I stop, and I can hear myself begging, please don’t hurt me, I’m somehow watching myself trying to still my shaking nerves.
I feel hands on the base of my back and I lie still and hold my breath, the hands are warm even through my clothes, the person is loosening the ropes on my wrists, I sense that it is the same male person who grabbed me from behind as I can smell his scent, slightly musky and dusty, yet not all unpleasant, a bit like petrol and somehow a lot like the smell of just before it rains.
Then he unties my ankles and pain floods through my feet as sensation burns back through them, the bonds still hold my wrists but looser now and my hands are stinging as well, I try to turn, try to kick but my body is unwilling and I am roughly forced into a sitting position with my hands still behind my back. I try to control my disobedient legs to stand up but only manage to brace my knees bent and my head is shoved between them and I am slapped roughly on the back
“ Breathe.” He says and I try, I dry retch a few times and feel as if I am going to throw up. The pain is a white hot throbbing and the blood roars in my ears, I struggle to keep conscious, swear and bite my lip until I taste fresh blood, my arms twist painfully as I try and balance my weight.
I still can’t see him, he is behind me and his hands are touching the skin of my lower back now, I can’t fight him, my hands won’t work, but they are freed. When I bite through my lip I feel him tense and stiffen and the warmth of his body is close behind me as I feel his face draw close to my neck and inhale deeply.
I keep slipping in and out of consciousness, aware only of warm hands on my back, pulling up my jumper and jacket and some of the pain starts to melt away into a warm feeling, the hands pause at the tattoo in the middle of my back briefly and I feel him exhale against me, he’s holding onto my hands, they were painful but now warm, his legs have worked their way either side of me and I am leaning back for support against his torso.
Again he inhales a deep breath at the nape of my neck and I’m in a stupor, dazed yet relaxed, not understanding, yet I feel secure at least for a moment that he isn’t going to harm me.
I try to turn my head, pain stabs through the base of my skull,
“ Don’t.” he says simply and I feel the word resonate through his chest.
I relax again and the pain disperses. I’m embarrassed to find myself again crying, but softly this time, I can’t feel much pain anymore, my body is light and I have an odd floating sensation, the smell of rain is stronger now and I am lulled by the feeling of his heart beating against my back, my sobs ease and my breath finally comes easier.
He moves away from me and my senses cry out in abandonment, I try to turn and look but again his warm hands prevent me, a thick furry blanket is placed over my shoulders and a small silver goblet placed in my hand, there is a clear liquid contained in the cup and it smells like honeycomb and sherbet.
‘ Drink it in one go” he instructs me in the deep voice that I somehow find familiar already, and like I’m in a trance I obey, inhale the draught of liquid and I’ve never tasted anything quite like it, like nectar with a powerful alcoholic type aftertaste which goes down through my chest with the smooth slide of warm milk with honey.
There is one clear moment of absolute clarity and bliss before I am cushioned into nothingness. Clear as glass I slide away into unconsciousness again.
Fade to clear.
This time when I wake it’s to a bright clear sunlight and I am clean and dressed in unfamiliar clothes. Squinting and blinking in the strong warm sunshine. I don’t know where I am and I am alone
I’m lying on a big pine bed under crisp white sheets, tucked tight with surgical precession around me.
I take my arms out from under the covers, and I’m wearing pale green flannelette pyjamas and around my neck is a large lump of dark green crystal on a silver linked chain, I am warm and my body feels rested and whole, looking around me all I can see is large windows and outside only treetops, the room I am in is set amongst the treetops and has clear walls and a glass roof with different coloured window frames made of huge plates of amethysts and jade so as the sun shifts and sparkles through the trees it strikes the crystals and makes different blades of sunlight purple and green soft beams dancing dappled patterns on the white sheets.
I look down at my hands and they are clean and only a scar shows in the shape of a bottle opener on my right hand.
I get up out of bed and the floor is smooth polished timber, the only other furniture in the room is a set of pine drawers, I open the top drawer and there is clothes folded neatly in the top drawer, green bonds t-shirts and camouflage pants in my size.
In the next drawer I find plain white underpants, socks and also white sports bras in my size as well, so I get dressed and open the bottom drawer where there is a black duffel style jacket made out of some sort of soft, thick, yet lightweight material, also a small pistol, a pair of Uzi’s and a large serrated knife in a black leather sheath, gun belts and a lightweight body armour.
I put it all on automatically and it seems natural and easy, strapping on the armour and weapons, spying sturdy brown boots under the bed and returning there to straighten the sheets, then sitting on the edge of the bed and lacing up the leather boots, they are smooth and well worn but polished, and perfectly shaped to my feet I stand and shrug the jacket on my shoulders to cover my weaponry.
At that precise moment the sun strikes an amethyst and a jade plate at the very top of the domed glass roof and the floor where I’m standing lights up first a deep purple then soft green. My vision blurs green and there’s that smell of just before it rains, a circle of light appears around me, I’m nervous in anticipation as I fade into the light green light.
Fade to green.
It’s raining hard and it’s wet and it’s dark.
I am sitting in the dirt or rather sprawled face down, I have a mouthful of dirt and my right hand hurts, I have a dirty bandage wrapped around it and I’ m sitting in what appears to be a three sided corrugated iron shed or from what I could tell in the darkness. A torch beam suddenly shines right in my eyes; I squint and hold up my hands, the person holding the torch shouts something, which is impossible to hear over the rain on the iron. I grope blindly for my Uzi’s, but they aren’t there, I still have the knife and pistol.
I stay low to the ground and cock my pistol in my left pocket of the wet duffel coat; I can also feel the familiar prod of my house keys in one of the outer pockets of my combat trousers where I crouch in the mud.
The torch beam flicks out then reappears closer, flicks on and is so close I feel it burn into my retina, I draw my pistol.
“Relax tiger” I hear his familiar voice say
“Fucking cunt!” I spit out dirt as I rise “ I could have fucking killed you, you stupid selfish fucking idiot dickhead!”
He laughs at me and joins me in the small shelter and hugs me tight to him.
I hug him back hard, pressing my cheek to the cold wet fabric of his jacket, on his chest, feeling the warmth of him permeating even through the rain soaked cloth.
“ And where are my fucking Uzi’s hey?” I say as I pull away and punch him playfully in the upper arm, he shines the torch on a pile of wood kept dry in the far corner of the shelter then touches it briefly at the bottom of the pile with his hand, a blue flame flickers and a small fire starts burning neatly.
“You know I never let you keep them.” He says as we move closer to the fire, his arm squeezes around my shoulders.
“But you can’t blame me for trying.” He chuckles and hands me a silver hip flask I have a swig and it’s nectar and honey and warm milk all over again and the fire is just for light because he is hot beside me and he clasps me to him runs warm hands up under the front of my t-shirt, my nipples are hard and he brushes them teasingly with the palm of his hand.
“Took you long enough” his voice is gruff with lust, his hands on my breasts and my ribs trace a geography of a skinnier torso than I am used to, I feel fit and hard and lean, I lean into him and he kisses me, in the firelight I see his eyes dark and his hair is blacker than the night outside, and the rain, the epic rain slides in sheets past us. His mouth is on my neck now and his hands around the small of my back, crushing me to him, biting hard on my neck. He brings his right hand up and gently cups the side of my face, I can see the fire reflecting in his eyes as he stares at me and sighs, I hold the hand and kiss the circular scar of tooth marks on his palm and he kisses me on the lips, he holds me so hard I can barely breathe. He starts pulling off my pants and at the same time peeling off my jacket, I can feel him hot and wanting, pressing into my bare damp flesh.
I turn around and bend at the waist, leaning against the beams in the shelter, I’m next to the fire and he has my pants around my ankles now, he’s got his hands on my breasts and he’s also teasing, rubbing at my cunt, I’m dripping wet and my whole body is so hot I’m feeling faint I can hear stray raindrops falling on his now bare back and sizzling away into small amounts of steam. He holds my hips and rams his cock hard into my cunt with a sweet delicious almost painful surge of pleasure. I thrust my butt brazenly back onto his cock with a gasp and he slides deeper inside me.
My right hand slips ever so slightly in its bandage and is near the fire now, he’s holding my waist and moving inside me, he’s tickling my lower back and grabbing at my arse cheeks, he’s everywhere and I’m dipping my front closer to the fire which I look at and I know I won’t get burnt anyway so I hang myself into the flames and they burn blue white and feel cool on my skin, the bandages burn away and my skin underneath is again whole, he’s still inside me, somehow he has twisted underneath me and his whole body now burns with those blue white flames.
I’m riding him in a bed of fire, his passion consumes me, together we light up the small shed until the iron all glows hot and iridescent the rain steams and hisses on it as we create our own combustible planet of two.
The tempo quickens, I’m just a part of the energy, part of something much greater and fiercer than me, together we cast wild magic and create spatial rifts, I am legend I am history I am the future I am the flame burning red.
Fade to red.
Dragged along next to the train tracks, there is pain it’s my existence, the sound of gunshots is back closer and the sky is lit red with fires, the smoke is all I can breathe, I can hear a train approaching on the tracks and I’m trying to struggle in the arms tight around me.
“ Don’t move” I hear a voice rasp in my ear before the sound of the train encompasses everything, the spine shattering noise deafens me and I feel hot electric air from the huge metal wheels pass close by us where we crouch I can feel sparks from the wheels flick and burn on my face and my tears singe hot down my cheeks.
Everything is pain and noise; I’m hunched back into the arms of my captor, snot runs from my nose and I’m turning to wipe my nose on my shoulder, pain stabs the wound on the back of my head. And the train is past, I’m being moved along backward now, into a claustrophobic pitch-black tunnel, my feet are scrabbling for purchase, but the smooth surface of hard concrete allows me no grip and again I submit to being dragged bodily along, the strength of the person holding me is inhuman, he carries me smooth and fast and I can feel heat from his body, one arm is still clamped tight around my throat the other hand holding my arms behind my back and I am carried along as if I weigh less than nothing.
He stops, letting me slump to the ground momentarily and a bag made from rough material is placed over my head. I’m numb and shaking now, I don’t make any effort to escape and I feel my hands brought around in front of me and a pair of handcuffs I gather from the cold steel embrace placed around my wrists.
They snap shut tight and I am again jerked forward and to my feet into a fast running shuffle. I am disorientated and can feel blood running down the back of my neck from the wound on the back of my head.
We seem to be moving through a network of tunnels, moving and twisting through a maze like complex. He runs fast and confident dragging me along behind him, the tight handcuffs are digging into my wrists, and I’m struggling to keep up to ease the pressure.
I hear a door opening and I am thrust forward into a warm room and then shoved onto a chair. My handcuffed hands are in my lap and I can feel the blood seeping from the wound on my head and my lacerated wrists.
The bag is over my head still making it difficult to breathe, it smells of cigarette smoke and ash.
“So.” It’s that voice again. “Mark your maker would you?”
My head snaps back as I am hit hard across the left side of the face, with the bag on the head I’m unable to see it coming and the impact of the blow sends me slamming sideways off the chair and landing awkwardly on my side onto concrete floor, feeling fresh scrapes from the hard ground where I graze my right elbow and shoulder.
I sit very still and hold my breath. Feeling trapped, useless and scared, I am playing dead, but the loud hammering of my heart and the blood rushing in my head seems so loud, must be giving me away.
I feel the hands again on me warm and now soft, but I flinch away try to shrink myself into nothingness, the strong hands again prop me upright on the chair. I’m trembling and biting my lips under the bag.
“ So are you ready?” he asks and his voice is guttural and low-pitched and reminds me of a cat’s purr. “ Ready to make me?
I stay stock-still and am again struck this time on my right cheek but this time manage to stay upright in the chair, there’s stars and fireworks in my head and I’m biting my lips hard to prevent from screaming because I know if I start screaming I’ll never stop. I’m tasting my own blood as I chew hard on my lower lip and I feel him close again just in front of my face now, inhaling a deep in-breath and letting out a growling sigh.
“Answer me” he spits
I can smell his breath it seems to smell of the ocean and I again catch that essence of impending rain. I can feel static electricity in my hair and I’m perversely turned on, my underpants under my tattered jeans grow damp at the crotch and my nipples are cold and hard.
I nod the best I can and the fabric hood is taken off, I’m blinking at the lights with a swimming head, my eyes water and I’m finding it hard to focus, there doesn’t seem to be anyone there just brightly coloured metallic graffiti on a wall, and just in front of me a smudge in the air, it’s like the faint residue of a fractal pattern, a disturbance in the space there showing up like heat shimmers on an outback highway.
I feel a soft whispering touch on the back of my head, and turn around the best I can, but there seems to be no one behind me, just more shimmering so I turn back around and he’s there in front of me.
At first glimpse he seems almost entirely human, then the light changes and dips then flares for a moment and I can see his eyes are pitch black where the whites should be, with no retinas and narrow vertical cat like pupils that change from white to blue, flickering like flints, cold as ice.
He smiles and he has a mouthful of sharp feline teeth, rows of sharp pointed fangs which are red stained as if he has a mouthful of blood, or his very saliva is bloody, he drools a long line of red and I decide that it must be his saliva.
I notice also his hands are huge, fingers thick and round and nails long and pointed and he has black almost fur like hair in the back of his arms.
The hair on his head is thick and shiny, cut rough and jagged, falling forward over his face in places and his ears seem sharp and pointed although they are mostly hidden by his hair which gleams like a wet ink spilt in the low light from the gas lamp, there is also more light coming from a fire glowing which seems impossibly large and bright to have inside.
The fire is set into a hole in the middle of the concrete wall and seems to be burning on some highly flammable material without much substance, small pieces of burning ember crack and explode but the sparks stay combusting back onto them and don’t scatter across the floor.
I’m momentarily fascinated by the fire then my attention jerks back to him, he doesn’t seem entirely tangible in front of my eyes, yet he stares intently and cocks his head to the side as he watches me quizzically.
His nose is snubbed and quite upturned and his cheeks are scattered with freckles and what looks like soft whiskers as well.
He smiles and shows me those sharp bloodied teeth again and then yawns and shows a neat curling pink tongue.
“You’ve got guts I’ll give you that.” He says in that low purr and then laughs
“Fucking nice.”
He holds up his big right hand where my teeth imprint shows in a crimson circular wound in the middle of his palm, surrounded by those thick pad like fingers topped by long pointed nails.
He watches me as he slowly unsheathes the claw on his right index finger and it grows longer and impossibly sharp looking, he raises the claw toward my face, just under my eye and runs it down the side of my cheek.
I’m holding my breath again, trying not to flinch.
He touches the claw to the right shoulder of my jacket where there is a hole right through jacket and jumper, leading down to the fresh grazes from the concrete floor. I can feel the pain subsiding from the scrapes and also my throbbing right hand still lying in my lap cuffed bleeding to its partner.
He starts running his claw down the arm of my jacket and gently he is slicing delicately through just the outer material of the jacket and not the cloth of my hooded jumper. He runs the claw in the same way down next to the zip on the front of my jacket, I’m trying to hold still but again my heart is like a trapped animal struggling to break free of the cage of my chest and I’m sure that claw is going to pierce it’s struggles and leave me still, but his touch is defter than a surgeons and he slices through the left sleeve of my jacket and starts peeling my jacket off in pieces.
I can feel blood running down my chin from my lower lip, which I have chewed, to a pulpy mess. He’s again close to my face, hands on my shoulders and he leans forward and with that delicate pink tongue starts lapping at the blood, his tongue feels warm and slightly rough like sandpaper. I’m frozen, terrified and in disbelief, yet at the same time a sense of purpose and strength sweeps through me.
“You are going to live through this,” a voice whispers inside my head.
“So what’s it going to be?” he asks me “Live or die?”
“Live.” I answer, mumbling through damaged lips, then I’m laughing hysterically, an insane cackle I don’t recognise emitting from me.
“Stay right there.” He orders me “ Remember I can kill you before you even think about moving.”
I’m hiccuping and still giggling, he slaps me gently across the cheek and I fall silent. He moves with his feline grace over to the corner to where some shelves are hidden in the darkness. There is a large glass jar filled with what looks like water and he pours some into a shallow wooden bowl then dips a mug in the bowl and hands me the mug into my still cuffed hands.
It is one of those tin camping mugs, filled almost to the brim with a clear liquid, I smell it and there is a faint scent of aniseed and liquorice.
Clumsily I lift the mug to my sore lips and drink deep it tastes now of alcohol and the fumes that burns my throat is like a mixture of a tincture of roses, with a feeling as it goes down like the sparks off sparklers when they touch skin.
I drink again spilling some down my face, downing the liquid greedily and warmth and light spread in my chest, my terror vanishes and suddenly I’m just incredibly curious and I have the same languid sense of anticipation that I felt earlier walking to the train station, my limbs feel lax and heavy.
My vision is wobbly he’s a black blur in front of me, silhouetted against the metallic graffiti, I’m trying to decipher the spray painted words I think the main piece done in black and red with metallic silver says “MAKER” and under that a smaller piece in plain chrome saying “MARKED”
I feel a consuming opiate dizziness and wonder what was in the drink, my eyelids are drooping and I’m trying to focus on that feline face, he is shimmering around the edges, and for a moment his face is purely human, dark eyes and dark hair, features strikingly handsome, high slanting cheekbones and overly full and ridiculously sensuous lips, but an all encompassing expression of the deepest sadness.
The silver outlines of graffiti shimmer around him and it seems there is a light that gleams within him and around him, an aura of such sheen and brilliance that I have to avert my eyes.
And I’m tumbling into a world of red, black and most of all silver, the silver is so bright it burns and sears through my whole being.
Fade to Silver.
anwyas here is the first chunk of it,it's pretty long and has been reworked a few times, but this is getting pretty edited, anyways, ima gonna break it up into chunks and hopefully write the end at the same time
it was all based on a dream
The sky is kind of dark smudged and angry, the air is somehow violent.
I’m shuffling along at a rapid and yet tired pace, my legs are numb and the walls slide past fast yet I still feel slow, the atmosphere around me is sticky and I am languid and morose, yet switched onto an autopilot of some sort, which keeps me striding the streets.
The subtle scent of the first jasmine somehow permeates through the miasma of other smells; burning scent of the beer factory and the odour of human waste, sweat and vomit, piss and blood.
Broken bottles and used syringes line the gutters and I detect another less familiar smell, I stop for a moment and tensely taste the air, there is an acrid tang tonite with a strong sulphuric smoky edge.
I walk on with every muscle taut, the normal roar of the inner city suburbs is dulled as I listen intently, there seems to be more sirens than usual, I hear glass smashing, there is smoke, I quicken my pace and fumble in my pocket, hold my keys in my fist, it’s definitely smoke, I can see it now, a darkness up ahead making the dim alleys darker, as I get as nearer toward the train station I am heading to.
I can now hear people screaming and swearing and maybe someone crying, I think there’s someone approaching, it’s late at night and the streets are empty so I duck to the side of the alleyway I’m walking through, step behind some overflowing dumpster bins and angle my body flat so I can see who approaches, yet they can’t see me.
It looks like two young children on bikes, but I stay where I am, I know how dangerous some of these kids can be.
As I watch them ride, one of them seemed to be wavering, then topples over and lies still on the ground, the upright figure throws their bike to the side and rushes over to the other small prostrate body and crouches there and starts shaking it, making an making an awful broken keening.
It’s the saddest and most grief stricken sound I’ve ever heard, takes over the growing ruckus of what sounds like warfare up ahead.
On several occasions before I’ve heard the sharp reports of pistols and occasional shotguns, but this sounds different, there’s a series of thundering rattling gunfire, punctuated by heavy thumping explosions and the almost continual shattering of glass, all overlaid by this sad wailing.
The smoke is thicker, my skin crawls and I’m sweating in the cool spring night, the breeze is suddenly hot, it smells like smoke and I feel a metallic blood taste in my mouth, extreme fear hits me for a moment and my tongue is dry. Momentarily I am frozen, I feel as if my heart has stopped beating, and then it slams a mile a minute, enough to try to punch it’s way though the front of my chest, I gasp for breath and run in a standing crouch toward the kids.
“ Are you O.K?” I’m saying, my voice is harsh and unfamiliar through my parched throat and as I’m saying the words I’m wishing I could take them back, as I see the blood covering both children, the inert form limp and lifeless, what a stupid question, I think, the child clutching tight to their still companion, seems to be about 8 or nine years old, a young boy, white t-shirt becoming drenched as the blood starts to seep in an increasing pool.
He wears a black cap set backward against a face of grief; I watch his face age and sadden in those few moments under the streetlights, which turns the pool of blood to black.
His mouth is contorted in the never ending wail, but it starts to be drowned out by another round of gunshots, more glass shattering, this time closer, I’m skidding to my knees on the road next to them.
“ What’s happening?” I ask him softly. He draws in a deep raking breath, the person he holds appears to be a little younger than him or smaller anyway, dressed the same in t-shirt and shorts, skate shoes and cap backwards. It’s hard to tell if the other child is a girl or a boy but to me the face looks a little softer and feminine, I would say a little girl, but one thing was definite, she was quite obviously very close to death. The pool of blood silently continued to grow, touching my knees now, soaking into the fabric of my denim jeans, it feels warm and the bitumen is coarse under my knees.
‘ Awwwww me sis” he moans, he has stopped shaking her and gently touches her still face, the entire front of her body and most of his is stained in blood.
Her body under her shirtfront looks to be a pulpy mess, a final sigh exhales from her damaged lungs and a large bubble of blood emerges from her lips, then bursts and dribbles down her chin.
“Aww FUCK.. No way..” tears course down his face “Fuck this I’m going to meet the makers..”
He spits as he closes her eyes and then pushes her away and stands up, her head hits the road in a way that makes me wince.
It’s as if he can’t see me as he grabs his bike and starts riding away from the commotions up ahead. I hear noises and shouting coming closer.
“Wait up kid!” I shout but he’s getting away further into the distance,
I think, fuck it, I grab the dead girls BMX and start riding after him.
Behind me there is people headed down the narrow alley, I’m riding the tiny bicycle after him, my bloodied knees hitting the handlebars, he’s gaining ground away from me, until I get my pedalling sorted, standing up in the pedals I chase his retreating figure away from the others who are getting closer, they are darting around and ducking in the shadows, one of them throws something which explodes into flame against the sky, I look behind and see them illuminated momentarily, faces covered by balaclavas or their own shirts, crouching bare-chested, coated in streaks of blood or oil stains turned all black in the streetlights.
I turn my head and chase harder after him, my heart is pumping with adrenaline, at some point I realise I still hold my keys clutched somehow in my fist, on my keys is a bottle opener that I can feel has embedded into my right palm clasped around the handle, it feels sticky and warm with my own blood.
I ignore it and pedal harder, he appears to be slowing and the crowd seems to be staying at the other end of the alley.
“Wait, wait kid..” I plead when I get closer; I’m close enough now to hear his hiccuping breathing, “ Hold on a minute, c’mon, we’ll be safer together.”
He stops his bike at that then turns and looks at me and laughs loudly
“No one is safe you fool.” He then gives me an unnerving smile and now I see his teeth are bloodstained and the childish face disappears for a moment and he grimaces, his face becomes a twisted mask, his eyes glowing in the darkness blue and white like hot embers, a deep voice uttering to me,
“ I have the mark, I’m going to meet the makers. It’s the only way to survive.”
Then his face flashes and he’s a child again, tearstains down his bloodied dirty cheeks.
“It’s the only way” he repeats in a more normal voice and starts again to ride away.
“What the fuck? Wait up..” I stammer and follow him, sirens are splitting the air, I see a car explode at the end of the alleyway, figures are dancing next to the flames and what looks like in it, guns spit and crack, I follow the kid.
He stops and throws his bike aside, starts walking down the embankment next to the train tracks, he turns and spits, and his spit lands frothed and reddish black on the ground.
“ Come down here” he says over his shoulder, I toss the dead girls bike and struggle after him, pulling the blunt metal of the bottle opener out of the raw flesh of my palm, I shove my keys in my pocket. I’m skidding and slipping my way through weeds and rubble, falling and starting to slide, he leaps nimbly toward the tracks and I scrape the last few meters on the seat of my jeans leaving smeared red right handprints on pieces of rubbish and rock that I try to grab at to slow my descent.
I tumble ungracefully at his feet where he waits with a smirk of disdain.
“Get up” he says and starts to walk away from me “ we gotta long way to go” I scrabble to my feet, he’s headed away from the station toward the closest viaduct, he’s nimble in the dark and I’m blundering, cursing, pleading with him to slow down, then saving my breath and kicking my way after him and he stops in the shadows of the wall edge, his eyes are huge, terrified, they stand out white in the gloom.
“It’s the only way.” He says in a forlorn little boys voice and then disappears into the darkness of the viaduct. I hesitate only a moment before following him, reaching for my lighter in my pocket, in the city skylines it seems as if the lights have gone out, and darkness was spreading followed by tongues of fire in yellow and red and white hot sheets of electricity crackled along the electricity lines, I wonder about trains coming through, inching along close to the tracks, the sirens are deafening, I’m kicking gravel that sparks on the train tracks, they look hot I bend down and touch them, they are hot and vibrate with a distant electric hum. I back away from the humming tracks and that’s when I feel something hit me hard and with intent on the back of the head, and an arm goes around my neck and a hand over my mouth cutting off my startled shout.
I’m dragged further into the dark of the viaduct, struggling and suffocating for breath and panic kicks in and I start kicking and biting trying to escape, the person holding me is strong and doesn’t let go of me even when I bite deeply into the palm of his hand, I can feel that it is a male holding me, larger than me, trapping my arms behind my back.
I’m terrified now, struggling now to breathe, crying, it’s clogging up my nose and I’m spluttering, the taste of his blood in my mouth, I can’t breathe and it’s making me dizzy, I feel myself starting to lose consciousness, dark electric sky is fading to black as I’m dragged along next to the train tracks.
Fade to black.
Awakening. I’m lying on my side, curled up and with my hands bound firmly behind my back, my ankles are bound as well, I’m lying on bare concrete it feels like and my body aches in almost every place, I feel myself shuddering against the tight bindings, it is soft cotton rope but tied very securely, they feel tighter every time I move, so I lie very still, trying to get my bearings.
I’m wearing the same clothes I had on, my ripped and bloody jeans, and t-shirt, under a hooded jumper and a light waterproof jacket on top.
I can feel the hood of my jumper and my hair on the back of my head are sticky with dried blood and my head is still swimming, I’m trying to focus my eyes, but it’s difficult. The air seems very colourful, i feel almost as if I’m hallucinating. I blink again and I’m staring sideways at a large painted design on a rough concrete wall. I make out my surroundings from the light of two gas camping stoves hissing in two different corners of the room.
I’m lying roughly in the centre of a small square room, there isn’t a lot to see, the room is bare except for the elaborate and intricate graffiti designs on each wall, I supposed the door must be behind me because I couldn’t see one. I feel utterly stiff and rigid. Every time I move a little, the bonds tighten, but I can’t help shivering uncontrollably, my hands become numb before long as my screaming muscles awake.
My mouth is bone dry and tastes of blood, I can feel myself starting to panic, my breath grows into ragged hyperventilating gasps.
I try and muster my voice, my head is so painful, and it feels like it hurts too much to remember how to talk.
“Help.” I manage to croak, and my feeble voice echoes back, mocking me cruelly in the empty room. I feel ridiculous and stay quiet, trying to control my breathing. My throat feels tight and the ropes are hurting my hands and wrists unbearably. I am sobbing a little with frustration, as sobs wrack my chest the bonds grow even tighter, I’m trying to lie as still as possible but I can’t stop shuddering. I suppose I am in shock I think, with a clear eyed insight that feels like I am watching myself from a distance, I notice the absolute silence of the room as well, it’s quite eerie only hearing the echoes of pathetic sobs and whimpers and somewhere distant I can hear a slow liquid drip.
I hear a door open behind me, and the hair stands up on the back of my neck. I start struggling ineffectively against the ropes, they are biting cruelly into my flesh, I can feel them ripping skin open and starting to bleed.
“ Stop it” says a male voice behind me “ you’ll only make them harder to undo.” And I stop, and I can hear myself begging, please don’t hurt me, I’m somehow watching myself trying to still my shaking nerves.
I feel hands on the base of my back and I lie still and hold my breath, the hands are warm even through my clothes, the person is loosening the ropes on my wrists, I sense that it is the same male person who grabbed me from behind as I can smell his scent, slightly musky and dusty, yet not all unpleasant, a bit like petrol and somehow a lot like the smell of just before it rains.
Then he unties my ankles and pain floods through my feet as sensation burns back through them, the bonds still hold my wrists but looser now and my hands are stinging as well, I try to turn, try to kick but my body is unwilling and I am roughly forced into a sitting position with my hands still behind my back. I try to control my disobedient legs to stand up but only manage to brace my knees bent and my head is shoved between them and I am slapped roughly on the back
“ Breathe.” He says and I try, I dry retch a few times and feel as if I am going to throw up. The pain is a white hot throbbing and the blood roars in my ears, I struggle to keep conscious, swear and bite my lip until I taste fresh blood, my arms twist painfully as I try and balance my weight.
I still can’t see him, he is behind me and his hands are touching the skin of my lower back now, I can’t fight him, my hands won’t work, but they are freed. When I bite through my lip I feel him tense and stiffen and the warmth of his body is close behind me as I feel his face draw close to my neck and inhale deeply.
I keep slipping in and out of consciousness, aware only of warm hands on my back, pulling up my jumper and jacket and some of the pain starts to melt away into a warm feeling, the hands pause at the tattoo in the middle of my back briefly and I feel him exhale against me, he’s holding onto my hands, they were painful but now warm, his legs have worked their way either side of me and I am leaning back for support against his torso.
Again he inhales a deep breath at the nape of my neck and I’m in a stupor, dazed yet relaxed, not understanding, yet I feel secure at least for a moment that he isn’t going to harm me.
I try to turn my head, pain stabs through the base of my skull,
“ Don’t.” he says simply and I feel the word resonate through his chest.
I relax again and the pain disperses. I’m embarrassed to find myself again crying, but softly this time, I can’t feel much pain anymore, my body is light and I have an odd floating sensation, the smell of rain is stronger now and I am lulled by the feeling of his heart beating against my back, my sobs ease and my breath finally comes easier.
He moves away from me and my senses cry out in abandonment, I try to turn and look but again his warm hands prevent me, a thick furry blanket is placed over my shoulders and a small silver goblet placed in my hand, there is a clear liquid contained in the cup and it smells like honeycomb and sherbet.
‘ Drink it in one go” he instructs me in the deep voice that I somehow find familiar already, and like I’m in a trance I obey, inhale the draught of liquid and I’ve never tasted anything quite like it, like nectar with a powerful alcoholic type aftertaste which goes down through my chest with the smooth slide of warm milk with honey.
There is one clear moment of absolute clarity and bliss before I am cushioned into nothingness. Clear as glass I slide away into unconsciousness again.
Fade to clear.
This time when I wake it’s to a bright clear sunlight and I am clean and dressed in unfamiliar clothes. Squinting and blinking in the strong warm sunshine. I don’t know where I am and I am alone
I’m lying on a big pine bed under crisp white sheets, tucked tight with surgical precession around me.
I take my arms out from under the covers, and I’m wearing pale green flannelette pyjamas and around my neck is a large lump of dark green crystal on a silver linked chain, I am warm and my body feels rested and whole, looking around me all I can see is large windows and outside only treetops, the room I am in is set amongst the treetops and has clear walls and a glass roof with different coloured window frames made of huge plates of amethysts and jade so as the sun shifts and sparkles through the trees it strikes the crystals and makes different blades of sunlight purple and green soft beams dancing dappled patterns on the white sheets.
I look down at my hands and they are clean and only a scar shows in the shape of a bottle opener on my right hand.
I get up out of bed and the floor is smooth polished timber, the only other furniture in the room is a set of pine drawers, I open the top drawer and there is clothes folded neatly in the top drawer, green bonds t-shirts and camouflage pants in my size.
In the next drawer I find plain white underpants, socks and also white sports bras in my size as well, so I get dressed and open the bottom drawer where there is a black duffel style jacket made out of some sort of soft, thick, yet lightweight material, also a small pistol, a pair of Uzi’s and a large serrated knife in a black leather sheath, gun belts and a lightweight body armour.
I put it all on automatically and it seems natural and easy, strapping on the armour and weapons, spying sturdy brown boots under the bed and returning there to straighten the sheets, then sitting on the edge of the bed and lacing up the leather boots, they are smooth and well worn but polished, and perfectly shaped to my feet I stand and shrug the jacket on my shoulders to cover my weaponry.
At that precise moment the sun strikes an amethyst and a jade plate at the very top of the domed glass roof and the floor where I’m standing lights up first a deep purple then soft green. My vision blurs green and there’s that smell of just before it rains, a circle of light appears around me, I’m nervous in anticipation as I fade into the light green light.
Fade to green.
It’s raining hard and it’s wet and it’s dark.
I am sitting in the dirt or rather sprawled face down, I have a mouthful of dirt and my right hand hurts, I have a dirty bandage wrapped around it and I’ m sitting in what appears to be a three sided corrugated iron shed or from what I could tell in the darkness. A torch beam suddenly shines right in my eyes; I squint and hold up my hands, the person holding the torch shouts something, which is impossible to hear over the rain on the iron. I grope blindly for my Uzi’s, but they aren’t there, I still have the knife and pistol.
I stay low to the ground and cock my pistol in my left pocket of the wet duffel coat; I can also feel the familiar prod of my house keys in one of the outer pockets of my combat trousers where I crouch in the mud.
The torch beam flicks out then reappears closer, flicks on and is so close I feel it burn into my retina, I draw my pistol.
“Relax tiger” I hear his familiar voice say
“Fucking cunt!” I spit out dirt as I rise “ I could have fucking killed you, you stupid selfish fucking idiot dickhead!”
He laughs at me and joins me in the small shelter and hugs me tight to him.
I hug him back hard, pressing my cheek to the cold wet fabric of his jacket, on his chest, feeling the warmth of him permeating even through the rain soaked cloth.
“ And where are my fucking Uzi’s hey?” I say as I pull away and punch him playfully in the upper arm, he shines the torch on a pile of wood kept dry in the far corner of the shelter then touches it briefly at the bottom of the pile with his hand, a blue flame flickers and a small fire starts burning neatly.
“You know I never let you keep them.” He says as we move closer to the fire, his arm squeezes around my shoulders.
“But you can’t blame me for trying.” He chuckles and hands me a silver hip flask I have a swig and it’s nectar and honey and warm milk all over again and the fire is just for light because he is hot beside me and he clasps me to him runs warm hands up under the front of my t-shirt, my nipples are hard and he brushes them teasingly with the palm of his hand.
“Took you long enough” his voice is gruff with lust, his hands on my breasts and my ribs trace a geography of a skinnier torso than I am used to, I feel fit and hard and lean, I lean into him and he kisses me, in the firelight I see his eyes dark and his hair is blacker than the night outside, and the rain, the epic rain slides in sheets past us. His mouth is on my neck now and his hands around the small of my back, crushing me to him, biting hard on my neck. He brings his right hand up and gently cups the side of my face, I can see the fire reflecting in his eyes as he stares at me and sighs, I hold the hand and kiss the circular scar of tooth marks on his palm and he kisses me on the lips, he holds me so hard I can barely breathe. He starts pulling off my pants and at the same time peeling off my jacket, I can feel him hot and wanting, pressing into my bare damp flesh.
I turn around and bend at the waist, leaning against the beams in the shelter, I’m next to the fire and he has my pants around my ankles now, he’s got his hands on my breasts and he’s also teasing, rubbing at my cunt, I’m dripping wet and my whole body is so hot I’m feeling faint I can hear stray raindrops falling on his now bare back and sizzling away into small amounts of steam. He holds my hips and rams his cock hard into my cunt with a sweet delicious almost painful surge of pleasure. I thrust my butt brazenly back onto his cock with a gasp and he slides deeper inside me.
My right hand slips ever so slightly in its bandage and is near the fire now, he’s holding my waist and moving inside me, he’s tickling my lower back and grabbing at my arse cheeks, he’s everywhere and I’m dipping my front closer to the fire which I look at and I know I won’t get burnt anyway so I hang myself into the flames and they burn blue white and feel cool on my skin, the bandages burn away and my skin underneath is again whole, he’s still inside me, somehow he has twisted underneath me and his whole body now burns with those blue white flames.
I’m riding him in a bed of fire, his passion consumes me, together we light up the small shed until the iron all glows hot and iridescent the rain steams and hisses on it as we create our own combustible planet of two.
The tempo quickens, I’m just a part of the energy, part of something much greater and fiercer than me, together we cast wild magic and create spatial rifts, I am legend I am history I am the future I am the flame burning red.
Fade to red.
Dragged along next to the train tracks, there is pain it’s my existence, the sound of gunshots is back closer and the sky is lit red with fires, the smoke is all I can breathe, I can hear a train approaching on the tracks and I’m trying to struggle in the arms tight around me.
“ Don’t move” I hear a voice rasp in my ear before the sound of the train encompasses everything, the spine shattering noise deafens me and I feel hot electric air from the huge metal wheels pass close by us where we crouch I can feel sparks from the wheels flick and burn on my face and my tears singe hot down my cheeks.
Everything is pain and noise; I’m hunched back into the arms of my captor, snot runs from my nose and I’m turning to wipe my nose on my shoulder, pain stabs the wound on the back of my head. And the train is past, I’m being moved along backward now, into a claustrophobic pitch-black tunnel, my feet are scrabbling for purchase, but the smooth surface of hard concrete allows me no grip and again I submit to being dragged bodily along, the strength of the person holding me is inhuman, he carries me smooth and fast and I can feel heat from his body, one arm is still clamped tight around my throat the other hand holding my arms behind my back and I am carried along as if I weigh less than nothing.
He stops, letting me slump to the ground momentarily and a bag made from rough material is placed over my head. I’m numb and shaking now, I don’t make any effort to escape and I feel my hands brought around in front of me and a pair of handcuffs I gather from the cold steel embrace placed around my wrists.
They snap shut tight and I am again jerked forward and to my feet into a fast running shuffle. I am disorientated and can feel blood running down the back of my neck from the wound on the back of my head.
We seem to be moving through a network of tunnels, moving and twisting through a maze like complex. He runs fast and confident dragging me along behind him, the tight handcuffs are digging into my wrists, and I’m struggling to keep up to ease the pressure.
I hear a door opening and I am thrust forward into a warm room and then shoved onto a chair. My handcuffed hands are in my lap and I can feel the blood seeping from the wound on my head and my lacerated wrists.
The bag is over my head still making it difficult to breathe, it smells of cigarette smoke and ash.
“So.” It’s that voice again. “Mark your maker would you?”
My head snaps back as I am hit hard across the left side of the face, with the bag on the head I’m unable to see it coming and the impact of the blow sends me slamming sideways off the chair and landing awkwardly on my side onto concrete floor, feeling fresh scrapes from the hard ground where I graze my right elbow and shoulder.
I sit very still and hold my breath. Feeling trapped, useless and scared, I am playing dead, but the loud hammering of my heart and the blood rushing in my head seems so loud, must be giving me away.
I feel the hands again on me warm and now soft, but I flinch away try to shrink myself into nothingness, the strong hands again prop me upright on the chair. I’m trembling and biting my lips under the bag.
“ So are you ready?” he asks and his voice is guttural and low-pitched and reminds me of a cat’s purr. “ Ready to make me?
I stay stock-still and am again struck this time on my right cheek but this time manage to stay upright in the chair, there’s stars and fireworks in my head and I’m biting my lips hard to prevent from screaming because I know if I start screaming I’ll never stop. I’m tasting my own blood as I chew hard on my lower lip and I feel him close again just in front of my face now, inhaling a deep in-breath and letting out a growling sigh.
“Answer me” he spits
I can smell his breath it seems to smell of the ocean and I again catch that essence of impending rain. I can feel static electricity in my hair and I’m perversely turned on, my underpants under my tattered jeans grow damp at the crotch and my nipples are cold and hard.
I nod the best I can and the fabric hood is taken off, I’m blinking at the lights with a swimming head, my eyes water and I’m finding it hard to focus, there doesn’t seem to be anyone there just brightly coloured metallic graffiti on a wall, and just in front of me a smudge in the air, it’s like the faint residue of a fractal pattern, a disturbance in the space there showing up like heat shimmers on an outback highway.
I feel a soft whispering touch on the back of my head, and turn around the best I can, but there seems to be no one behind me, just more shimmering so I turn back around and he’s there in front of me.
At first glimpse he seems almost entirely human, then the light changes and dips then flares for a moment and I can see his eyes are pitch black where the whites should be, with no retinas and narrow vertical cat like pupils that change from white to blue, flickering like flints, cold as ice.
He smiles and he has a mouthful of sharp feline teeth, rows of sharp pointed fangs which are red stained as if he has a mouthful of blood, or his very saliva is bloody, he drools a long line of red and I decide that it must be his saliva.
I notice also his hands are huge, fingers thick and round and nails long and pointed and he has black almost fur like hair in the back of his arms.
The hair on his head is thick and shiny, cut rough and jagged, falling forward over his face in places and his ears seem sharp and pointed although they are mostly hidden by his hair which gleams like a wet ink spilt in the low light from the gas lamp, there is also more light coming from a fire glowing which seems impossibly large and bright to have inside.
The fire is set into a hole in the middle of the concrete wall and seems to be burning on some highly flammable material without much substance, small pieces of burning ember crack and explode but the sparks stay combusting back onto them and don’t scatter across the floor.
I’m momentarily fascinated by the fire then my attention jerks back to him, he doesn’t seem entirely tangible in front of my eyes, yet he stares intently and cocks his head to the side as he watches me quizzically.
His nose is snubbed and quite upturned and his cheeks are scattered with freckles and what looks like soft whiskers as well.
He smiles and shows me those sharp bloodied teeth again and then yawns and shows a neat curling pink tongue.
“You’ve got guts I’ll give you that.” He says in that low purr and then laughs
“Fucking nice.”
He holds up his big right hand where my teeth imprint shows in a crimson circular wound in the middle of his palm, surrounded by those thick pad like fingers topped by long pointed nails.
He watches me as he slowly unsheathes the claw on his right index finger and it grows longer and impossibly sharp looking, he raises the claw toward my face, just under my eye and runs it down the side of my cheek.
I’m holding my breath again, trying not to flinch.
He touches the claw to the right shoulder of my jacket where there is a hole right through jacket and jumper, leading down to the fresh grazes from the concrete floor. I can feel the pain subsiding from the scrapes and also my throbbing right hand still lying in my lap cuffed bleeding to its partner.
He starts running his claw down the arm of my jacket and gently he is slicing delicately through just the outer material of the jacket and not the cloth of my hooded jumper. He runs the claw in the same way down next to the zip on the front of my jacket, I’m trying to hold still but again my heart is like a trapped animal struggling to break free of the cage of my chest and I’m sure that claw is going to pierce it’s struggles and leave me still, but his touch is defter than a surgeons and he slices through the left sleeve of my jacket and starts peeling my jacket off in pieces.
I can feel blood running down my chin from my lower lip, which I have chewed, to a pulpy mess. He’s again close to my face, hands on my shoulders and he leans forward and with that delicate pink tongue starts lapping at the blood, his tongue feels warm and slightly rough like sandpaper. I’m frozen, terrified and in disbelief, yet at the same time a sense of purpose and strength sweeps through me.
“You are going to live through this,” a voice whispers inside my head.
“So what’s it going to be?” he asks me “Live or die?”
“Live.” I answer, mumbling through damaged lips, then I’m laughing hysterically, an insane cackle I don’t recognise emitting from me.
“Stay right there.” He orders me “ Remember I can kill you before you even think about moving.”
I’m hiccuping and still giggling, he slaps me gently across the cheek and I fall silent. He moves with his feline grace over to the corner to where some shelves are hidden in the darkness. There is a large glass jar filled with what looks like water and he pours some into a shallow wooden bowl then dips a mug in the bowl and hands me the mug into my still cuffed hands.
It is one of those tin camping mugs, filled almost to the brim with a clear liquid, I smell it and there is a faint scent of aniseed and liquorice.
Clumsily I lift the mug to my sore lips and drink deep it tastes now of alcohol and the fumes that burns my throat is like a mixture of a tincture of roses, with a feeling as it goes down like the sparks off sparklers when they touch skin.
I drink again spilling some down my face, downing the liquid greedily and warmth and light spread in my chest, my terror vanishes and suddenly I’m just incredibly curious and I have the same languid sense of anticipation that I felt earlier walking to the train station, my limbs feel lax and heavy.
My vision is wobbly he’s a black blur in front of me, silhouetted against the metallic graffiti, I’m trying to decipher the spray painted words I think the main piece done in black and red with metallic silver says “MAKER” and under that a smaller piece in plain chrome saying “MARKED”
I feel a consuming opiate dizziness and wonder what was in the drink, my eyelids are drooping and I’m trying to focus on that feline face, he is shimmering around the edges, and for a moment his face is purely human, dark eyes and dark hair, features strikingly handsome, high slanting cheekbones and overly full and ridiculously sensuous lips, but an all encompassing expression of the deepest sadness.
The silver outlines of graffiti shimmer around him and it seems there is a light that gleams within him and around him, an aura of such sheen and brilliance that I have to avert my eyes.
And I’m tumbling into a world of red, black and most of all silver, the silver is so bright it burns and sears through my whole being.
Fade to Silver.