Vermillion Part 2

2.

Twelve years and four months seems like an eternity. During the first few years after his landing he traveled as much as he could, learning all that he could. He thought he could help them at first, rescue a damsel here, stop a robbery there, it was all so easy. He was surrounded by primitive minds in an evolved form, stressing and falling over each other to ruin a life that didn’t mean much anyway. He didn’t need to be recognized so he never had a name. He was trying to keep them safe despite their self-destructive natures. They were harmless and honorable creatures then. 

He walked like a ghost through the lives of many people and like a ghost, people saw a figure glide through the room but no one could remember what the shape was or if it had any form at all, that is until someone saw him close enough.

  

Wednesday November 12^th 2010

The ocean air touched all the corners of my face, I felt the sting of a million pieces of sand thrust against me and I watched the ocean sacrifice itself on the rocks. I stepped on a broken shell and cut my foot, I looked down and saw that it shone in the sunlight and as the sand started to soak up the blood, the colours that were reflected were glorious. There was pain and beauty everywhere and I knew at that moment the torment that every person on this planet felt, when the pain becomes the only door to beauty. 

I heard the scream; it filled my mind and ruined the moment I was living in. After ten years all I wanted were a few seconds of peace scattered between the silent obligations I fill my life with. I said goodbye to the ocean and went to find what was meant to be an easy rescue.

Under the boardwalk were two men, one large, tall and half-dressed and the other in a business suit counting out notes of currency. A small girl squirms in the arms of the large man, only able to scream through the breath she caught whilst out of the grip of his hand. He laughed as she kicked out her feet and tried to untangle her-self.

He whispered “stay still”

She screamed “Daddy Please!”

The man in the suit turned away and put the money in his pocket and started to walk his feet away from her. The tall man started to pull something out of his pocket, a syringe. I’m already directly next to him. I stood behind him and slowed down the world around me. I looked into her young eyes and saw the reflection of a nightmare trying desperately to call itself terror and not oblivion. I saw confusion in his stare as he sought behind himself to find only me. I burned into his eyes with my stare and I saw only the dark. He wanted her beauty through the pain and his hand around her throat was taking it all

.

I grabbed his head and he dropped the girl, her small body hit the ground and she fell unconscious. Flashes of screaming faces and pools of blood on the floor filled my gaze and a begun to squeeze. The suited man began to run; I didn't take my eyes off the monster with the great smile.  I brought my thumbs to his temples and dug them in, my nails bent back as they entered under his skin and our blood merged together. His pupils dilated and he drifted away as though on some hallucinogenic. I let go of my grasp and released him to the ground. 

This was the first time I ever saw what my blood does to them. I stood there staring at the twitching lump of meat struggling to breathe and the small delicate animal lying next to him, breathing slowly, trying to dream of a better place. I knelt next to her and brought my bloodied hand to her mouth. I could give her a better memory to hold onto. As I lifted her head the suited man was running back with two cops. The perfect stage was set. Although I could take them all out with a single push, I submitted to their will and went quietly. 

I looked down at her. As they put the handcuffs on me she smiled and said.

“The mountains of R’dane are beautiful at sunset”

I didn’t see the ocean for another six months.

Vermillion Part 1

1. 

 

She hit the water, the river, as it was violently penetrated by her body resolved to fill all of her crevices at once and crush every bone in her body in response. From such a height she would have seemed like a small pebble that dislodged itself from the bridge, from across the lake at the island any onlookers would only have seen the enormous structure sacrifice a piece of itself to the depths. In her universe her body was falling but in her mind she was floating in a world she could only see. Soaring through clouds and touching the tree tops with her finger tips, completely encased in joy. When she hit the river, she never knew. The detective, standing above her body found amongst the sludge on the shore, wearing the stench of the previous night’s self-loathing, scoffed at her bloated, broken frame. 

From the distance I am watching this from I can see all the commotion happening from every angle. The reporters trying to get a good shot of the body without showing too much, the onlookers trying to steal a glimpse that will fulfill their morbid curiosity and the police who, with their soulless glance appear completely indifferent to yet another suicide.

 When the chief told him about the incident Detective Tangello dealt with it with the same indifference which he had for the previous thirteen years, since he stepped knee deep into the putrid cesspool that was the city of Task, he has seen nothing to convince his hands not to strangle what his eyes see every day. He carries out his duties the same way a cleaner does as they are washing a toilet that’s full of shit, he does his job, but the only light left in his eyes is the gleam of the alcohol still in his system.

They crack a joke at the deceased girl’s expense and the two of them laugh, forgetting for the moment the young girl lying at their feet. All the memories she had of loved ones and friends, destroyed by the water. A pile of flesh filled with water is all that is left and the only people there who can regret for her are two men who simply do not care and a crowd of people who never saw her face. 

This city is alive; I can feel its circulatory system pumping every day. It beats slowly and precisely and without purpose. It’s too bad that all of these parasites are injecting drugs and slime straight into its heart, everything is covered in poison. 

I have forgotten every story ever told to me, I replaced them with a twisted satire of life, each situation written with comedic timing and every player a farce. Day by day I walk under the bridge and watch them all perform, they jump and glide through the air, screaming melodramatically, pushing, biting, clawing at each other trying desperately to prove to everyone that they are real, but they aren’t, the only real people I ever knew I killed in my dreams when I was a boy. It’s a living, breathing marathon of absurdity and I can never change the channel. 

Now I sit on this pathetically worn couch staring out the window, focusing my ears on the gentle hum of the refrigerator as it clicks over its routine. My eyes are fixed from the grotesque moving image in front me onto this letter I’m writing. The two prostitutes I paid for are going at it against my window. One with her bare ass pressed against it and the other pumping at her like he’s trying to slaughter her from the inside. I would never participate in this mocking performance of passion. Besides tonight my mind is elsewhere. My mind is on the pretty girl at the river with the face of an angel and hair that’s full of cigarette ash. I’m feeling a fatherly regret wash over me. I wonder, which of these prostitutes has the drugs and which one the family?

Why did I come here? 

These letters don’t comfort me much, I don’t regret what I did but the outcome was unfortunate. 

He gets off the chair and motions for them to finish, walks to the fridge and drinks the rest of the milk. The prostitutes shake themselves off and gather their things. He points to the money on the counter, a completely silent transaction. The male follows the female out the door and provokes him with a kiss face; he slams the door after them and locks it. He stands there for a moment with his back against the door lighting a cigarette for mock satisfaction. Remembering that there are no good women left, they are either owned and broken or sold and dying; marked by the city that infected them, branded with sorrow. His apartment smells like sex now but he likes it that way because outside smells like death. 

His cream coloured curtains wave in the breeze of his now open apartment window, still with the oily smudge she left behind. He looks out onto the smug city staring back at him. The dramatic high rises crowding in a cluster in the middle, holding each other it seems for structural integrity. The other buildings spilling out from them in a large fifty metre radius, slant away from the middle like an atomic bomb went off and they are all still rotting. The lights form in patches that look like a rash, all that he sees is alive, and from corner to corner he can see it pulsing. He would gladly stand here and watch it all burn to the ground, for as long as it takes he will wait it out, but first he needs to find out what that rotten smell is and decide whether he wants to fan it or get rid of it. He folds the three page letter in half and places it carefully in the top drawer of his desk. 

In the bathroom he looks at himself in the mirror, a handsome man by their standards with long blonde hair, a strong build and a powerful stance. He stares deeply into his own eyes, looking for where the similarities end. He can see only them. In his disappointment he retires for the night.

The start of something new

Hello all,

The following entry is the first part of an extended short fiction series that is titled

Vermillion

Acting as a sort of serial, each week a new part of the story will unfold.

The Hollow

The Hollow

Running through the deep, damp and dreary ember of night, the little one heard the sound. The horrendous thunder had finished and the silence filled the air, she knew she was alone. The forest in its ever-growing terror twisted its way through her mind as she lost herself to the trees. With no way of knowing which direction to take, she followed the patterns of the branches as they shone in the moonlight, toward a dim flight of fire that danced in the distance.

“What dastardly deed did I muster to be so lost I wonder?”

She said with her fingers curling her mottled plaits.

“I would have never strayed so far from father if I had known these Forests were so terrible.”

She came upon a grand tree that had fallen in its fatal age hollowed out over time, an opening had appeared creating a cave that although dangerously strange, was more comforting than the silence behind her.

I wonder if that fire I seek was here.

she pondered as she crawled her way into the hollow. There she knelt for a moment adjusting her eyes to the darker innards of the tree, trying to find anything, anything at all.

Suddenly and startlingly a match was struck, the whoosh of the flame ignited her heart and it pounded fiercely with anticipation. As the flash of light diminished into a dull candle an elderly face crept from behind the darkness and smiled upon his guest. Scared, the little one backed away, not trusting what she had seen in such an unusual place.

“Please don’t be startled little one, I mean you no harm,”

said the dimly lit figure

“I haven’t seen a soul in a year, time has gone by so slow and all I have is time to wait.”

He continued moving forward toward the girl who had loosened her pose and tried to become comfortable in the cave.

The old man carried the flame toward a pit of twigs and branches and set it ablaze in a fountain of light that swallowed the hollow.

“My name be Hector Hollingsworth, young lady. I wish to know yours before the light dims again.”

said the old man in jest.

“I apologise sir for being rude but I thought you were a prowler, my name is Siann Therberry and I am 13 years old.”

Hector cackled at her proclamation,

“oh well in that case I am amongst a young adult and shall treat you as such, too bad I was going to treat you with a story.”

He peered at Siann through the corner of his eye, waiting.

“Well I would not refuse Mr Hollingsworth if it weren’t a child’s story of course.”

she stated with avid curiosity.

“ Very well my dear to pass the time until morning I will regale you with the tale of the sad case of Henry Hollow.”

He stoked the fire with a burnt branch and stared deeply into the dancing flames.

Many decades ago the world was bright and defined by its happiness, the people shone with smiles for each other and the air was thick with promise. These were the years for love, the kind of love that stays in your pocket protecting you always. Henry was an optimistic lad full of curiosity and adventure, wanting to take on the world and win its praises. One day Henry met Elise. No one more radiant had existed and no one lovelier ever has, she bewitched him with her stare and he was lost thereafter

“What a lovely story”

Proclaimed Siann with a gleeful tone,

“Ah, impatient girl it's not over yet, I told you it was a sad story now listen carefully and remain quiet,”

quaffed Hector, clutching to the burnt branch. He continued,

“Henry and Elise were inseparable, they walked together and sang together and leapt from the top of the world just to fall in love with each other again and it seemed that nothing could ever tear them apart. That was of course until they found the Forrest. They sat beneath the trees every day and stared through the leaves at the sun strobing its light onto their brow, Henry would dream of things that were and how lucky he was to be alive but Elise would always be dreaming of things that could be; things that were out of reach to the simple folk they were. 

One day out on the red brown dirt she looked forward instead of up and saw a fantastic light ahead of her. It shone with a thousand suns at once and enchanted her heart to follow. Henry tried to show her the sun again but she was not interested in dreaming through the leaves and wanted to find what was at the end of the light. Elise begged Henry to take her there but he knew she would never return the same so he refused. The days and weeks passed, and all that Elise could busy her mind with was what was at the end of the Forrest, what celestial wonders awaited her heart."

“My what an obsession, did she leave? Did Henry finally give her what she wanted?”

Asked Siann with honest intrigue,

“Not all things are so simple my friend and not all things are worthy,”

 proclaimed Hector in a damaged voice.

Hector sat up and adjusted his position on his stool and took a sip of water from the puddle beside him and sighed for only a moment.

“Henry knew he could not hold her for long in the house they built, she was slipping further beyond the Forrest and would not wait for him to change his mind. On the seventh day since the Forrest she came upon him with her head held high,

'I am leaving,' she said, 'I am leaving to the light and you will be coming with me.'

'No,' said Henry 'I will not let you leave me, your heart belongs to me and with me it shall stay.' And with that Elise reached into Henry's chest and ripped out his heart

'Then I shall take yours with me to protect me always, goodbye.'

And with that, she was gone.

“That seems awfully violent Mr Hollingsworth”

Said Siann in a very concerned voice.

“It is all a symbol my dear, but what is the truly tragic part is what happens next,”

Hector continued.

“Henry, now with a hole where his heart should be, had to live the rest of his life trying to find a way to fill it. First he tried to fill the hole with love, he searched everywhere for love, decades past and every glimpse of love was fleeting for he knew it was never truly his. He spent the rest of his years pondering in loneliness, if the only thing that can fill the hole is love - but the only love he will ever know is forever gone - how will it ever be filled enough to live? He sat there in the Forrest at the edge of the light, a light that lead him to believe that there was an emotion even stronger than love that was laying dormant but growing inside him all those years, to bring him hope for the years that twilight bring, to seek some peace at last"

“But what pray tell could be a stronger emotion than love Mr Hollingsworth? Love is the strongest thing our souls can hold,”

 said Siann in happy disbelief,

“No Siann, it is not”

Said Hector with his head bowed down to his chest.

Hector, in one fluid motion, threw his stick onto the fire and in a blaze of light the cave lit up like a carnival. For a split second Siann finally saw what had been lurking in the dark beside her. Through Hectors torn shirt on the left side of his chest a large hole was born. In all its decadence, an eerie discharge wept through the cavity of his bodice. A scaly tendril extended from beyond the damp swamp that became of his soul, reached for Siann, and drowned her in darkness.

With the screams of terror lifted by the rich putrid stench of decay, Hector sat with his eyes fixed on the terror, picked up Siann’s heart, and as the fire dimmed into darkness once more, Hector filled the hollow.

The End

Behind the Painting

Standing at the entrance he hears the warning

Wrought across the wooden planks of the stair

 He can sense all the vile beasts that are spawning

Behind the antique door should he dare.

He still walks across the dampened floor

Stepping over the ashes still in bloom

Ignores the crashing of the door

That seals him in his own tomb

There are no more rescues on his breathe

For him to murmur in despair

Of all the things created after death

Mercy is not there.

For four nights he stays within these walls

To prove what is already known

That this place breathes where insanity falls

No human record may be shown

He searches in vain for they who wonder

To capture their spirit for a second

He watched, waits and always will ponder

Why silence when they are beckoned?

But it is the night where they murder them all

When you close your eyes after night blinds through

When between the universe and sleep you fall

They are there above you.

He drifts away after a fruitless night

Of nothing more than whispers on the deck

Within these walls they hold on tight

To the rope hanging around their neck

His eyes they fault and flutter

And the stars do disappear

And then in the distance the unholy mutter

“he sleeps in time in line with fear”

I may have known them once before

Here they found a home to stay

Memories of family I still adore

When washing away the blood they pay

Now they dwell behind the painting

Hanging on top of the fire

Of a family with their father still waiting

For the light to dim and expire

His eyes grow dark and bold

His hands move like a blade

The act is from the horror of old

The stories that nightmares were made.

Trapped they are as they resent

The sleeping man who shines brighter

His life burns fiercely in their lament

And the rope pulls tighter

Across the floor boards they slink

Their mockery of life drags over the stain

The reality of the room begins to sink

Madness fills their eyes with light again

Over his bed and standing by his toes

Watching his body move with error

To the rhythm that only madness knows;

as the life shortly before the terror.

Around his neck the noose pulls tight

And strung to the roof his life is curbed

Above the universe he loses the fight

To the specters that have been disturbed

All I can hear is the sound

Of his feet bashing against the wall

And blood falling on the ground

Where he should not have entered at all.

                                                               

Curiosity killed the reason of another man

On the ground where insanity stood

Just because you may dream doesn’t mean you can

Conquer the house in the wood.

Tiffany Douglas May 2014