Sunday, 15 December 2013

Glyph. (Part 5)

Isaac swallowed the lump that was building in his throat. He was concerned that he was visibly shaking, although it was hard to tell as his heart was beating so violently that he could feel it in his head, and in his toes.

He was standing in the library where they had first met. The very same spot. Isaac felt a bead of sweat trickle down his forehead, but he didn’t want to move, any form of movement would only make his stomach churn more violently. The small droplet moved from his forehead and tickled down the side of nose and across his lips which were sealed tightly. It was 3:30… He should be here by now, why isn’t he here? What if he found out somehow? He could have done that, he could have found out, who knows what information he has access to?

He focused on his breathing, in, and out, in, and out. Why is it such a struggle, just to breathe? The ticking of the clock was louder than before, and the library was practically abandoned, it was silent, and desolate, and Isaac has never felt more vulnerable. Then he heard a door open.

Scorch stepped into view, smiling coldly, his eye patch strapped firmly across his good, unmarked eye.

“Isaac, how nice it was to hear from you, I’m so glad you changed your mind.”

Isaac breathed a sigh of relief, perhaps too obviously, but Scorch’s demeanour didn’t alter so Isaac felt reassured that, at least for the moment, he did not suspect anything.

“I knew hearing a few home truths would change your mind.” He smiled once more, almost viciously.

“It’s no surprise that the government is corrupt, I just never knew the extent of it, it’s not something I feel can be tolerated anymore.” Scorch sat down at a nearby table, and he motioned for Isaac to join him. He rested his elbows on the wood and clasped his hands tightly together.

“Isaac, there are lots of things that you don’t know, but I plan to bring you up to speed on all of them, then you will see the true nature of these disgusting liars that govern this country. Unfortunately that means you won’t be able to enjoy the regular announcements I’m giving, I’m not a fan of spoilers, but I feel I can make an exception in this case. Are you ready?”

Isaac glanced out of the window briefly, hoping he would see the soldiers closing in on the building, but he knew it was too soon, they wanted him to extract as much information as he could before they captured him.
“I am.”

“Good… where to begin? It may interest you to know that there are a great number of secret organisations that are hidden from the public eye, you will have heard of MI5, MI6 and so on yes? All of them are simply decoys, red herrings, to mask the true organisations running behind them. I don’t suppose you’ve heard of an organisation by the name of G.L.Y.P.H.?”

Isaac shook his head, although he suspected he had been in their headquarters, spoken to their members, and gone along with their plan.

“It’s an acronym of course, any idea what it might stand for?”

Again, Isaac shook his head.

“General Liquidation of Youth with Propensity to Harm, or in other words… people such as us. They don’t like the power we possess, Isaac, and they will do anything to rid us of it.”

Isaac was growing increasingly uncomfortable, he knew that G.L.Y.P.H. had wanted him dead, but to have it confirmed, and in such a cold, calculating way, it made things infinitely worse. How did I get myself into this mess?

“The women in charge… She goes by the letter ‘P’-“

Where is he getting all this from? If he knows all of this, does he know why I’m here? Is he just toying with me?

“-She is a terrible human being Isaac, she has committed mass murder in the name of her family, in the name of her organisation, and she must be stopped.”

“What exactly has this organisation done that is so bad?”

Scorched barely blinked before answering:

“I’ve seen all of their records, they’ve experimented on humans Isaac, many of these tests could easily be considered torture, and most of them resulted in death, those who survived have been imprisoned, treated like animals, after all… they are merely failed experiments. Aside from that? They’ve purged hundreds of people in this city alone, merely for owning one of these!”

He pointed towards his uncovered eye, the one marked with a prominent glyph.

“And that is only one organisation; there are dozens out there, taking citizen’s money and using it to commit atrocities, all in the name of advancement.”


“Of the human race, everyone out there is afraid Isaac, afraid of the unknown, and all of these people are looking for a way to get the upper hand, to be ready for whatever comes, whatever the cost.”

“And what would you differently?”

Scorch blinked. His marked eye studying Isaac closely- suspiciously.

“You are scared, aren’t you Isaac? What are you afraid of… is it me?”

“You’re still wearing your eye patch… you don’t trust me.” Isaac did his best to control his breathing as his mouth became void of saliva.

“I wouldn’t take that personally, I don’t trust anyone.”

“It’s hard for me to believe what you are saying when there is no trust between us.”

Isaac lied, in truth, everything he had told him he had swallowed, he couldn’t help it, there was something about the way he spoke- he was so blunt and utterly convincing- it was difficult not to process every word he was saying. He glanced once more at the clock, and then at the window. Scorch smiled once again.

“You’ve seen into my mind Isaac, why don’t you tell me what I would do differently?”

“I was only present for a few seconds, I did not see everything; I didn’t have time.”

Scorch’s smile only grew wider.

“You saw enough though, didn’t you? You saw enough that you felt the need to run and tell on me, to run to ‘P’?”

His heart stopped, his eyes glazed over. He knows! Of course he knows!

Isaac didn’t know what to say, what to do- what could he do? There was nothing, Scorch was immune to his power; he was infinitely more clever than him, and as bloodthirsty as it was humanly possible to be. He was outmatched in every way, there was nothing he could do but allow Scorch to unfold his plan. No! They’ll be here! They’ll take him into custody! They will have heard what he said, and they will be coming! They have to! Not that repeating the thought convinced him any differently.

“Just so you are aware, even if I didn’t know where your loyalties lay beforehand, I would have been able to tell within a few seconds of conversation with you, never try to deceive me Isaac, you will fail, you may be able to see into people’s minds, but I can deduce how someone is feeling, and what they are thinking, merely by observing the tiniest contours of their face.”

“Fine, so now you’ve found me out… tell me why.”

“Why? Why am I doing all this?”


“Have you ever looked back at the history of the world? Have you ever just taken a look at the state of the world? Throughout the entire history of the human race, there has been an endless amount of oppression, genocide, destruction of entire peoples and places… I aim to solve that. I will follow the guidelines set by previous dictators, only I won’t make their foolish mistakes. The most beneficial scenario for everyone is the destruction of the world as we know it, and a new one to rise, with me as the leader. I become the most powerful man on the planet, and we find peace in a reign of fear where everyone is so afraid, they dare not step a foot out of line. The world I will create will be one of perpetual peace, there will be no discrimination, no prejudice, no war, no hate crimes, why? Because everyone will be the same- they’ll be beneath me.”

“And you think people will stand for that?”

“It is human nature to seek out conflict, out there, they are already preparing themselves to rip each other to pieces, and all it took was a few words from me to provoke them, what does that say about society? What does that say about humanity? Subjugation is by far, the easiest option; I am doing you all a favour, and helping myself in the process.”

“You are wrong, you are basing your argument purely on figures, if you went out there and saw the world, saw the good that can be found in humanity you would not be so certain! You would build your throne on the corpses of the innocent; I can see you won’t change your mind… I can only promise to stop you.”

Scorch smiled, “I look forward to seeing you try.”

Isaac looked out the window for the final time.

“You won’t have to wait for very long.”

Scorch stood up and strolled carelessly to the window.

“Ah, Three squadrons, approaching from the east, west and south, one air team inbound, soon to land on the roof of the building, most carrying assault rifles, ACR, SCAR-H, typical AK47 with some modifications, also heavy weaponry, several grenade launchers, M32, seems a little excessive if I’m honest. Oh, and air team landing in 3, 2, 1…”

There was a loud crash on the roof, then silence.

“Hmmm… they may have had an accident with their parachutes,” he turned to Isaac, “they can be so careless when they pack those things.”

Almost simultaneously, there were several loud explosions outside, balls of fire erupted into the air, scorching the trees and surrounding buildings. Isaac could hear the sound of screaming, but he didn’t dare to look outside. Instead Isaac addressed Scorch; he was powerless to do anything else.

“I don’t understand… how?”

“Landmines, I prepare for any potential scenario,” he smiled malevolently, “and now, I believe, if I remember correctly, I warned you against trying to stop me. I don’t want to kill you Isaac, you are potentially a great asset, but if you choose to resist me I have no other choice.”

Before Isaac could register the threat, the sound of a gun clicking sounded at the back of Scorch’s head. A group of masked men with guns had formed behind him, led by P.

“Mr. Scorch, I believe?” Stated P as coolly as ever, “we’d like you to come with us.”

“Just Scorch is fine…”

“Very well,” she snapped the handcuffs onto his wrists, “Scorch.”

She turned to Isaac, and observed him with the same calculating, unfeeling stare she always wore.
“Good work, you did well under pressure.” Despite the praising comment, there was no tone of gratitude to be found anywhere in her voice.

“What about all those men out there? What about all the people he just killed?”

“They knew what they were signing up for- now- we need to get back; we have some questions for this one.”

“Aren’t you going to read me my rights, P?” Scorched asked, jokingly.

“You have no rights you son of a bitch.” With that they began to drag him away. Before they got to the door however, they ripped his eye patch away from his face, and Isaac couldn’t resist the temptation. He entered Scorch’s mind, with one question burning inside him, why didn’t you resist? To his surprise, Scorch answered:

“One thing you will learn, Isaac, is that everything that happens, even if it seems to be going against me in the worst possible way, will be exactly what I want to happen, there is nothing you can do, no trick, no deception, no angle you can take that I will not have considered a thousand times beforehand and planned ahead, I will always be ahead of you, every step of the way, if I want to be caught, I will be caught, if I want to go free, I will go free, and if I want to kill you, or anyone else, it will happen, it’s only a matter of time, and how I decide to approach it.”

Isaac could not bear being in his mind for one second longer, the anger, the fire, the hate… all of it, was too much. When he returned to his own mind Scorch was no longer in sight, but he shouted one last thing before they pulled him out of the building.

“Remember, Isaac, once they are done with me, you are next in the firing line!”

He knew that this was far from over, and he knew there would be blood before the end. 

Sunday, 17 November 2013

The Haunting in the Castle (TDC Part 5)

“Where are we going?”

I asked this question more than once, however it was only on the fifth attempt that I got an answer out of Jane.

“Jesus, Tim, why are you so eager to know?”

“Honestly?  I’m more afraid of the unknown where people are concerned… at least I know all that supernatural stuff is in my mind.”

“So… you’re still convinced ghosts don’t exist? You don’t change, Timothy,” she had a smug, satisfied look smeared perpetually upon her face as she drove, “oh, did you hear about Galloway Hall?”

“No, what happened?”

“Well you know they were demolishing the place to build- well I’m not sure what they were building actually, a library or something? Anyway, as they were tearing it down, they found something-“ she paused for dramatic effect. I figured I would give her what she was expecting.


“A room- or a basement- something, hidden away. Apparently some cult had been using this room to sacrifice children, they’ve found dozens of skeletons, and apparently they are still finding more.”

“That’s horrible!”

“I know, right?” I could sense part of her was bragging, she may not have even been aware that she was doing so, but she recalled the events of the night we spent in Galloway Hall well enough, and this just proved that she was right all along, something horrific had happened there. “I did some research on this cult when I heard the news; they call themselves Prima Aetas Subortus. They believe sacrificing their offspring to some obscure ancient demon brings them youthfulness, meaning so long as they keep reproducing and killing their kids, they live forever.”

“Christ, see what the supernatural does to people? They believe in these ridiculous fantasies, and end up committing mass murder!”

“Yeah, strange though… the cult seems to have died down nowadays,” She chuckled to herself and turned onto a dirt road, “we’re almost there!”

Throughout my childhood, I had never been particularly afraid of the dark, no more so than anyone else at least. However, I think it goes without saying, that due to the experience I had in my apartment only a couple of nights previously, I was apprehensive about driving in the pitch black at the very least, and utterly terrified at the most. I remember it surrounding the car, swallowing the little box of metal in its immersive endlessness. When it came to the point where I could no longer breathe, I was sure I would pass out, and the darkness would once again attempt to devour me, but a series of dull lights in the distance loosened my oesophagus.

“You okay, Tim?”


“You’re looking a little pale…”

“I’ve always been pale.”

“Alright, more pale than usual.”

I just shrugged. The destination was fast approaching, and as it did, I became more and more sceptical that there was anything there for me. The place towered far above the surrounding fields. Even in the dark it was clear where we were going. This was a castle: Motte and Bailey, and mostly intact, although there were clearly certain areas that were in disrepair.

“Are we seriously going to a castle?”

“I told you I had a new job didn’t I?” she quizzed, somewhat frustrated, “well I’ve been asked to investigate and document any supernatural occurrences in and around the area, and this castle has one of the most frequent sightings in the country.”

“We’re searching for a ghost in a castle? What is this, Scooby Doo?”

“Were you always this cynical, or did I just not notice it all this time?”

“You’re telling me that you don’t feel this is just a tad absurd?”

She didn’t feel the need to dignify my question with an answer as we pulled into the courtyard. There was only one other car present, a white BMW with a private registration plate. The castle itself was actually as far from foreboding as a castle can be, all of the lights were on, and the natural embellishment that had been added to the place, presumably for tourist’s eyes, had actually made the building rather beautiful.

The minute we pulled up a man emerged from the giant mahogany doors that led to the entrance of the main body of the castle. He was short, bald, and had such an obvious sense of self importance that he reeked of pretention. He addressed Jane solely, and acted as if I were not there.

“Jane, is it?”

“Yes, that’s me, how do you do sir?”

“I would be much better if I was at home in front of the fire with my dogs- which at this point will have to wait until tomorrow to go out now- but I digress, thank you for coming on such short notice, I was hoping we would be able to get this over with as soon as possible.”

“I’m sorry- get this over with?”

He wrinkled his nose, as if there were some distinctly offensive odour pervading the air, where in actual fact, all I could smell was the slightly overpowering scent of the array of flowers and bushes surrounding the courtyard.

“I do not like anyone poking around my castle at the best of times.” He didn’t feel the need to expand on that point, instead he simply shoved the warm keys into Jane’s hand and headed to his car. “Also, please do not entertain the idea that you can steal anything, all security systems are in working order, and if you so much take a step out of the building with anything that doesn’t belong to you the police will be on you quicker than you can say ‘sorry’, alright? Try not to damage anything either…”

With that, his shiny bald head disappeared into the black, tinted windows of his car, and he sped off into the night.

“Well, he was delightful wasn’t he?” laughed Jane, “c’mon, let’s go!” She practically ran into the castle, and I reluctantly followed, although I admit, I was somewhat anxious to get out of the open air. As I shut the door behind us I couldn’t help but notice the large amount of crows perched on the ramparts, on the roof and various ledged dotted here and there. I wasn’t going to dwell on that though, and I didn’t.

The castle was quite impressive on the inside, at least I thought so, the preservation was extraordinary, the majority of it looked authentic; it was passable at the very least. However, it wasn’t long before an atmosphere set in, it was odd; something felt off. I do not know what it was, maybe everything was a little too perfect, I did consider that, but I couldn’t be sure, all I know is that Jane felt it too. Then again, Jane always had those kind of feelings, and they were always more extreme than mine. Then it occurred to me; I knew nothing of this place, I wouldn’t be able to deduce anything, my mind would not be able to concoct any wild imaginings because I knew nothing.

“Did you read up about this place, Jane?”

“Of course I did, I have to do my research don’t I?” she shot me a cursory glance, “why?”

“How do you know that anything that might happen tonight won’t simply be a product of your imagination based upon what you already know?”

She considered this for a moment, “I don’t, I know that little things won’t amount to anything, knocks on the windows and walls, objects moving by themselves, it doesn’t prove anything, and I’m aware enough to acknowledge that, but I don’t believe my mind is proactive enough to create a whole scenario that will fit to what I already know.

“We’ll see.”

It was at that moment the lights went out. My stomach convulsed, my throat constricted and my heart jumped. I was taken back to my apartment, and I had to force myself to breathe because at that moment I could have let myself asphyxiate just to escape. Fortunately Jane had packed several torches with an abundance of batteries.

“You were expecting this?”

“Apparently it’s been happening quite frequently over the past few weeks, power cuts that is.”

“I see.”

“Tim, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“I know- I know that.”

Then came that sound. The sound of clawing. Fingernails on the floor of the room directly above us, and as time passed it only became more and more intense- desperate. Naturally we proceeded to check the room, but as was to be expected, no-one was there. It looked to be another infuriating search for phantom noises that would amount to nothing. The room itself showed no signs of anything out of the ordinary… however, it was a peculiar room. It’s original purpose was unclear, but it was obvious that the managers had designated it as a place to show the entire history of musical instruments. Considering the size of the room, it ultimately ended up looking cluttered, with various woodwind instruments hanging on the walls, some of them in frames, some of them merely on stands. In the centre of the room there was a large, suspiciously modern looking, grand piano.

Again, that feeling of misplacement, that sense that something wasn’t quite right came back. I didn’t like it there, maybe it was the way so much had been forced into one room, maybe I was simply feeling overwhelmed, claustrophobic, I don’t know, but I knew I wanted to get out of there.

“There’s something underneath these floorboards,” Jane suddenly stated, her voice monotone and cold, I looked over at her and saw her face had lost its entire colour, “can’t you feel it?”

It took me a moment, but sure enough, I could feel it, aside from a very faint buzzing, which I could feel more than I could hear, there was a light clunking sound. I fell to my knees and pressed my ear to the floor. The cold, wooden floorboards did not welcome my ear, they were rough, and so icy it burned. I could hear it though, sure enough, there were footsteps. The significance was not lost on me, although it only dawned on me at that moment what was happening.

This place was channelling all of my major past experiences with the supernatural, from the most recent to the depths  of my childhood- first the darkness, then the clawing on the floor, now the footsteps- what was it? I considered the fact that because I knew nothing of the history of the place, that my own history was beginning to come to light, but was that even possible-plausible even? It seemed ridiculous, and even now I struggle to believe that is the case, but what other explanation can there be? I am yet to find any link between myself and that castle, no history, no prior knowledge, nothing has come to light; and yet, my fears were being reflected within those ancient walls.

We followed the footsteps, what else could we do? At this point, my fear had become so intense that I could block it out, much like when a person is in so much pain that they become numb to the entire experience. All that was driving me now was my curiosity; I needed to know what was happening.

Following the footsteps led us to every inch of the castle, every time we came close to the source of the sound it seemed to shift to an entirely different location, at times it would appear that the footsteps were just above us, below us, or even directly where we were standing, the sound grossly loud, but then in the next second it would become faint once more and be marching along the hallway next to us. After what must have been hours, we reached a final location where the footsteps were so loud the whole room seemed to shake tremulously. At this point my eyes were beginning to blur over, I was exhausted, I was frustrated, I felt no more fear; that had dissipated about an hour into the chase. My feet had gone numb, and I could feel myself falling into what can only be described as a temporary, lack-of-sleep-fuelled state of insanity.

The room we found ourselves in was not part of the original castle, that being said, it was by far the most horrifying room there. It was a bathroom; the men’s bathroom to be precise. It was grimy, grey, grim and falling apart. It genuinely looked like something from a horror film. There was a large mirror that took up the majority of the one wall, and it was so filthy, it was near impossible to see a reflection of yourself without it being distorted in some way. The sound of footsteps vibrating was so violently that the doors of the bathroom stalls threatened to come off their hinges… and then it stopped. Just like that, there were no more footsteps; just silence. That was probably more unsettling than anything else we had experienced that night, but at that point, the only thing I felt was a sinking feeling in my stomach.

I slumped against the wall, defeated.

“This was a giant waste of time.” I muttered, as Jane struggled to hide her sense of disappointment, “it’ll be light soon, it has to be, we should get out of here.”

“Something is going on here, Tim; you know it, why can’t you admit it?”

“I can’t deny that something I going on here, if it wasn’t, we wouldn’t have chased the sound of footsteps all over the damn place, but that doesn’t make this any less pointless, we aren’t going to find anything… because whatever is going on here, it’s purely messing with us, nothing more.”

Then there it was. Of course, I should have expected it, but I guess I was holding out hope that my theory was nothing but wild speculation.

On the mirror- the disgustingly dirty mirror- was a gentle tapping. Someone- or something- was on the other side. I could feel them staring at me through my monstrous reflection, I could see their mischievous grin snarling malevolently at me as they watched my internal torment. What I felt at that moment is indescribable, a mixture of fury, fear, anxiety and frustration soaring through my body with so much energy and ferocity I could scarcely control myself.

One of the toilet seats had broken off and lay solemnly on the floor next to the stall. Barely thinking a grabbed it and hurled it at the mirror. I watched with delight as the glass shattered, the cracks spreading, resembling a sharp, jagged cobweb. It did not break entirely however, and that was not something I was going to settle for, despite her attempts to restrain me, I managed to shake Jane off and smashed the seat into the mirror one final time.

The glass gave up the ghost and shattered entirely. As it fell, a black void appeared behind it, something neither of us expected.

We both fell to the floor, overcome with the shock of what had just happened. I had never acted to so impulsively before; I had never been so overcome with emotion that I had felt the need to do so. We just sat there for a while, neither of us moving, staring into the space behind the mirror. It was Jane who moved first.

She glanced into the space, and then turning to look at me briefly, she climbed inside. Naturally I followed.

The space behind the mirror was a room in darkness, but filled with lights of every colour, some of them flashing, some simply shining on, and never blinking. As my eyes adjusted it became clear what the place was.

“Tim, over here… look!” Jane’s voice cut me out of my reverie, “this panel here… it’s the reason we’ve been hearing things all night.”

“There’s a system built into the castle walls, most likely for tourists on ghost walks and things like that, a kind of horror ‘ambience’, and someone has left it on.”

“Why would anyone do that?”

“Publicity, maybe? I don’t know,” she sighed, clearly the first day of her new job wasn’t going quite as expected with the discovery the whole thing was staged, “you were right, this whole thing was a waste of time, everything tonight was set up.”

I pondered for a minute, something still didn’t add up.

“Yeah… it was set up, but it was set up specifically to target me!”

“What? Why? What are you talking about?”

“The lights going off, then the clawing on the floor, the footsteps, then the tapping on the mirror… that’s too many coincidences to ignore!”

“Okay, Timothy,” she put her hands on my shoulders, “think for a second, what you are saying, why would someone go to so much effort, just to get to you? I mean, how much effort must this have taken? I’m sorry, Tim, but that’s insane.”

She was right, logically of course, it made very little sense, but then the CCTV footage switched on. Jane and I both watched as a clip from only an hour earlier played by itself. It was the music room, except it wasn’t empty. There was a hooded figure slowly making its way towards the camera. Its face was obscured, although you could just make out white, skeletal features behind the hood. As it drew closer to the screen, it held up a white sheet of paper, although the picture was black and white, as well as grainy, the words printed on it could just be made out.

‘Happy Hunting, Tim’

Then the screen cut to black and silence pervaded the entire castle.

Jane looked at me, fear evident in her eyes, I remember because it was the first time I had seen her truly scared.

“Tim… what the hell is going on?”

Saturday, 26 October 2013

Conversations With My Psychiatrist (Part 1)

“Tell me, Damian… why are you here?”

“What?” I remember the bluntness of the question terrifying me, making me sick to my stomach, my hands began to shake, and my brow began to sweat. I had to force myself to swallow the overwhelming mixture of spit and phlegm that was squatting in my mouth, and feel it tumble clumsily down my dry throat. “What sort of question is that?”

The good doctor relieved his nose of the pressure of his glasses, and wiped the immaculate lenses on his bright, white shirt before settling them back, with care, on his face. “I believe it is a fair enough question, you’ve been coming to me for several months now, and I’m yet to understand exactly why you are here, it says here-“ he lifted up some of the papers piled on his desk and briefly glanced at a file somewhere near the bottom of the pile, “yes- it says you checked yourself into therapy, but you did not give a reason, and you haven’t told me anything thus far that would lead me to believe you need to be here.” He straightened out his already creaseless tie and coughed lightly. “I have told you before now, that if you do no provide us with a valid reason, we shall be forced to discharge you, the only reason you are still here now is because you have insisted, but now it is my turn to insist; I would like you to tell me why you are here, so that I can help you, it benefits you to tell me, far more than it does me.”

I remember how heavy my breathing became, I had to close my eyes for a moment, I could feel the anger building inside me, but I didn’t want him to see that… I wanted to confront him, but I couldn’t- I couldn’t bring myself to.

“Maybe there isn’t any definitive reason… but surely, if I feel the need to be here, surely that’s enough… right?”

“It is clear to me that you have some issues, Damian, but until you communicate with me, there is no way I can help you, and so long as you don’t, there is really no need for you to be here.”

I began to panic then. I didn’t want to be discharged, I didn’t want to face everything alone again, I wanted to be there. My mind began to frantically pace the corridors of my anxiety, each of them blending into one another, until there remained just one single idea.

“Okay… I have a problem, a problem with trust, and I find it hard to communicate with people I don’t trust.”

“You can trust me, Damian.”

“You say that… but can I? I have no reason- no reason to, trust- at least to me- trust is earned, not given because it says so on a certificate. I need to be able to trust you.” I remember rambling on like this for a while; I also remember thinking how unusual the word ‘trust’ sounded after some time, until he interrupted me.

“Damian, what can I do, that will make you trust me?” There it was again, how strange, that word: ‘trust’.

“You need to tell me something about yourself.”

“Okay, anything in particular?” He asked, nonchalantly.

“Something you wouldn’t particularly want to share with me, something- something you would have to trust me with.”

“Anything you have in mind?”

“A memory- a bad one- something embarrassing, maybe? Or something painful…”

“I don’t know-“

“It’ll work, trust me-“ I remember that being the first time I had smiled in that office, it was small, but light, largely made of wood; wooden floor, wooden desk, wooden bookshelf. It felt homely. I could tell that the doctor was somewhat apprehensive about sharing with me, but maybe it was the sight of me smiling that caused him to change his mind, it was after all, the first time.

“Fine-“ he paused for some time, and seemed to search for the perfect memory to recite, “a few years ago,” he began, “I was driving back home” he continued, “it was late, and I had just had one of the shittiest days of my entire career, but it was about to get a hell of a lot worse.” He sighed and interlocked his fingers, “I stopped at a set of lights, when all of a sudden this guy- a patient of mine starts banging on my car window, obviously he had recognised the car or something- I don’t know- anyway, he is shouting and screaming and crying at me, telling me I was the worst person he had ever known, telling me that I was a useless psychiatrist and that I hadn’t helped him one bit-“ He sighed again, louder this time, and longer too; he looked to the floor, “now this guy, he had some serious issues, he was bipolar among other things, I won’t go into detail- anyway- like I said, I’d had a shit day, and I just wanted to get home, but this guy, he was basically just rubbing salt into the wound, he sent me over the edge- I didn’t stop to talk to him, I didn’t even wind down my window, I just stuck my middle finger up and drove off.”

I must have looked somewhat shocked, or maybe he thought I should simply be shocked as a natural reaction to his tale, as he began to try and explain further.

“Next week, he didn’t turn up for his session, I wasn’t exactly surprised by that, I wouldn’t have turned up if I was him, but it wasn’t until later that day that I was told that he had killed himself that night,” he took off his glasses one more time, just to be sure every miniscule particle of dust was vacant, and rubbed them against the white fabric of his sleeve, “I’ve had to live with that for some time now, I essentially murdered a man, but if his death can help someone else- if it can help you communicate with me, then he will not have died for nothing.”

“What was his name?” I felt the compulsion to ask, and did so, without thinking, which was extremely uncharacteristic of me.

“I don’t think that is relevant.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s fine, Damian, now, is there something you wish to tell me?”

The sweat on my brow had ceased to exist, and my hands were hardly trembling at all, but I still felt sick, I still had that horrible urge to regurgitate all of the shit I had forced myself to eat. He had done what I had asked of him, and it had made me trust him more, it didn’t erase the fear however, it didn’t stop the fact that once I began to utter the words that were the narrative of my life, that they would solidify and become a part of reality, a reality which I would then be forced to face head on, with no-one to help me, or guide me, or tell me how I should tackle it.

“There are quite a few things I wish to tell you, but they are not things that I really want to speak out loud…”

“Well, let’s try starting with one of the less severe things you want to talk about, and we’ll work our way up from there, and hopefully, you’ll be able to trust me as we go on.”

“I suppose we could do that… okay, well, I think basically, I keep trying… I’m afraid of living.”

“What do you mean by that exactly Damian? Do you mean you are afraid of being alive, or do you mean that you are afraid to live?”

On some level I understood the distinction he was trying to make, but on the surface, that distinction seemed pretty arbitrary and ultimately meaningless, and more simply put; it confused me.

“I don’t know… both I suppose?”

“Okay, so what would you say the main characteristic of your fear is?”

I could break my fear down into many things, the fear of the outside world being one of them, the fear that life was ultimately meaningless and void of anything that could possibly hold any form of meaning was another. Honestly, what was the point? That was what I told him.

“Would you say you fear the outside world, or that you just simply do not like it there?”

It felt too soon to be answering such deep, elaborate questions, but for the sake of our agreement, I tried my best.

“There is nothing in the outside world that I would consider to be good, there are no good people in the world for one, and the world is full of horrors and atrocities that I don’t have the courage to face- but it’s more than that- why I am here, I mean- I am terrified of everything out there, but at the same time-“ I remember laughing in frustration and anger, “this is going to sound ridiculous,” I sighed, “despite hating and fearing the world, I desperately want to be a part of it.”

The doctor studied me for a while, his eyes boring into mine. He picked up the cup of coffee that was sat on his desk and brought it to his lips. I noticed the monotone, rhythmic ticking of the clock at that moment, and began to monitor it as closely as I could.

“Humanity- or at least the majority of humanity- craves human interaction; it is not unusual for you to feel that you want to be a part of the world, if you isolate yourself for long enough, you begin to develop that craving. If anything, I believe this is a good sign, if you told me you had absolutely no desire to be in contact with the community,  I would be led to believe that you were a severe sociopath, as it goes, you are looking more and more human.”

That was a surprise for me.

“I’m not a sociopath?”

“It’s too early to tell for sure, do you believe you are?”

I considered for a moment…

“I don’t see how I am not, I am completely apathetic to everything, I don’t care about anyone or anything anymore.”

“You truly believe that?”

“I do.”

The ticking of the clock was still the same, it ticked at regular intervals, and never sped up or slowed down, but the hands of the clock had moved, and it was almost time for me to leave, a fact that had become apparent to the good doctor.

“Damian, I would like to thank you for opening up to me today, we’ve made some excellent progress, do you think you’ll be able to continue this way in our next session?”

“I’ll try.”

“Good, until next time then…” He held out his hand- he hadn’t done that before- I supposed I should grab it, and shake it, the motion had always confused me however, I was never entirely sure what purpose it served… still, I did it. I turned to leave, but there was one question that was burning at the back of my  mind, and it was something I had to get out now, or I would never mention again, I knew that I wouldn’t…


“Please, call me-“

“No, no, no don’t… please… I was wondering… do you think there is something wrong with me?”
For the final time that afternoon, he removed his glasses, but this time he did not wipe them, he simply placed them next to his coffee mug.

“Damian, you could search the world, meet every person in existence and still not find a single human who doesn’t have something ‘wrong’ with them, you are not an anomaly, you are not a  freak, there is nothing ‘wrong’ or ‘right’ about you, you are simply… you, and dwelling on what you consider to be your flaws is a pointless exercise, one I would consider trying to cut out, at the very least reduce, because you will drive yourself mad if you consider it for too long.”

I considered what he had said, and knew that my answer would have been the same, no matter what words came out of his mouth.

“I think I want there to be something wrong with me…” And then I left.

Thursday, 17 October 2013

The Silence

...And i'm back!

Apologies for not posting for some time... The move to University hasn't really left me with much free time, and the free time I have had has been used watching Breaking Bad instead of actually doing anything productive, but I shall do my best to get back on schedule... or something.

As recompense for not posting for such an extended period, here is something I produced for a seminar I had last week... be warned, it's pretty depressing, and pretty dark, but isn't most of the stuff I have on here?

The Silence

“I know who you are”
She said;
Lost in a blinding dream.

“I know who you are”
She wailed;
With no air in her lungs to scream.

“You are the pride, you are the sloth
That has been sent to punish me for living this way.
You are the lust, you are the greed
That has come here to see that I dutifully pay
For my crimes, for my cowardice and for my fear.
You are the glutton, you are the envy
That is here to judge if I am humbly sincere.
You are my own wrath
For leading myself down this foolish path.”

“I know who you are”
She cried;
Her tears impairing her vision.

“I know who you are”
She sobbed;
Sincerely regretting her decision.

And as the darkness took her,
And her pain disappeared into the night
Her senses dulled and crippled,
She uttered with both defeat and defiance:

“I know who you are-
The Silence.”

Glyph. (Part 4)

Isaac rushed into the house and ran up the stairs to grab his coat.

“Mom? Mom! I’m going out!”

His mother appeared in the kitchen doorway.

“What are you talking about? I’ve just made us some dinner, plus you’ve only just got in!”

“Trust me, it’s really important, don’t wait up for me, I’ll give you a text to let you know when I’m coming back!”


“Bye, gotta go, love you!”

“Isaac, get here right now, you aren’t leaving until you tell me where you are going!”

Isaac sighed, knowing what he had to do, but regretting it before it was even done. He walked up to his mother and looked her in the eyes, he erased all worry and concern out of her mind, and made sure she would go to bed at a decent time instead of waiting up for him. He kissed her gently on the cheek. “I’ll see you later, mom.”

She nodded quietly before entering the kitchen again.

“Be safe, Isaac!” she called out just as he left the house. Amazing, even when she isn’t worried or concerned at all, she still says that- it must be instinctive, rather than a product of concern.

He had little time to dwell on it however, he needed to meet P quickly, they had arranged a time and place, and Isaac couldn’t imagine anything good coming of tardiness. There was a bus that would take him into the city centre; from there it was only a few minutes’ walk to the designated meeting point. Turning a corner on the street he could see the bus approaching, and rushed to make it on time.

It turned out to be quite busy at that night. There were only a few seats available, and none of the occupants of the neighbouring seats looked particularly welcoming. Isaac sat at the awkwardly at the back, he refrained from reading anyone’s mind, although he was tempted, his run in with Scorch had left him somewhat shaken. The bus stopped a frustrating great amount of times at the designated stop points to pick up passengers who could no longer sit, so were forced to stand holding onto the bars on the ceiling.

Eventually the bus arrived at Isaac’s stop. Several minutes late, Isaac noted. This meant he now had to rush to the meeting point also. As he exited the bus the enormity of the city dawned on him. He was at the very centre and the buildings towered above him, suddenly he was nervous, he was way out of his depth here, there was too much at stake, he was getting involved in things he had no business being involved in, with people whose names he didn’t even know.

P would be waiting for him. Fearful of getting lost, he checked his phone one more time, looking at the route his map was giving him, it seemed pretty simple: left, left, right, left, left, right, right, right, left, then straight for a while, then left one final time.  Easy… right?

The roads and pavements all blended into one, every street equally as enormous and uniform as the other, somehow however, he found his way into the alley they had agreed to meet in. Just as he had anticipated, she was there, waiting for him.

“You’re late.”

“I’m sorry, the bus driver picked up every single person on the way here…”

“It does not matter, what do you have for us?”

“Earlier today, after we met, I went to a local library, there was a man there, not much older than me, said his name was Scorch, he had…”

“Go on.”

Isaac motioned towards his eye, “markings of some sort, on his eye, he was blind, but he said he could see, see everything-“

“What did these marking look like?”

Isaac became very aware of another man standing directly behind P, and another approaching himself from behind, both of them wearing dark suits, and earpieces.

“It looked like an X, with some embezzlements.”

“I see… and how do you know that this is the man we are looking for exactly?”

“I- I- I don’t, I saw-“

“What did you see?”

Isaac sighed deeply, feeling sick with fear as he felt the presence of the two men edging closer. He knew he had to tell her the truth, otherwise she would never believe.

“This won’t make any sense unless I show you-“

Isaac pulled off his glove and raised his hand so she could see his palm. Almost at the same moment he felt a cold block of metal press against the back of his head- a gun. The man stood beside P was also aiming a gun directly at his head. The man behind him whispered.

“Don’t try anything- lower your hand.”

Isaac did as he was told, shaking slightly

P Smirked, “I knew it.”

“So what, I’ve given you valuable information and you are just going to kill me?”

“Anyone in possession of a Glyph is a danger to all of mankind and must be eliminated, I hope you understand.”

The man stood next to P suddenly changed his stance; he pointed his gun at her head, with a click.

“Jackson, what the hell do you think you are doing?”

“I’m sorry P, he can’t hear you right now, he’s under my control, so you can shoot me if you like, but if I die, he will fire, and he won’t stop firing until you are confirmed dead.”

“Well done Isaac, you have successfully proven my point.”

“I was backed into a corner, what did you expect me to do? I am not your enemy, the real danger is out there, his name is Scorch, and you are only giving him more time to put his plans into action while you are wasting your time here with me!”

Isaac raised his voice, clearly the situation was getting out of control, but he was unsure exactly how to resolve it. The only thing he could do was try and trump whatever it was she threw his way.

“And what are his plans exactly?”

“Let me go and I might tell you-“

“In case you were not aware Isaac, I can quite easily rid you of your power, of your glyph, if I wanted to, so it is in your best interests to tell me everything you know.”

Her voice, whilst remaining cold was now clearly conveying a tone of anger and frustration. Isaac sensed this woman rarely did not get her own way.

“I think I’ll decide what is in my best interests from now on…”

P glared at Isaac maliciously, her hand twitching, obviously eager to act, but held back by the fear of the guard at her side.

“Do not, push me!”

An old, rusty door at the side of the alley opened abruptly, banging loudly against the wall as it swung open. A bald man appeared in the doorway.

“P, you need to see this!”

“What is it, Franklin?”

“You need to see, some guy named Scorch is on every network, he’s making demands- what is going on here?”

“Never mind! Give us a minute!” P’s face had grown red, and her fists were clenched at her side, “Isaac, it seems you were telling the truth, would you come with me?”

“I want to stop this guy- but I’m not going anywhere with you!”

“I give you my word that no harm shall come to you until we have caught this man, and we have him in our custody.”

Isaac couldn’t read her mind, but he sensed she was telling the truth, plus this was the only way he was going to stop Scorch, he couldn’t do it by himself, he knew that much.


“Thank you.”

The four of them entered the door and found themselves in a vast conspiracy of tunnels, all of them identical to look at, and all of them winding. P however, navigated them expertly and soon they were in a large open area, with wires strewn across the floors and group together, pinned against the walls and ceilings. All of the walls were glass, and there were dozens of workspaces, all with complex looking computer setups, with some equally obscure technology. On the far wall was a large screen, and that was where Scorch’s face was mounted, in HD, and as menacing as ever. His voice rang out through the room.

“I shall repeat this one final time, for those of you who are just joining us, I have taken control of every channel, every frequency and therefore every screen throughout the entire country, I have done this for one reason and one reason alone, and that is to deliver a message directly to you all. This country’s government is a lie. It is corrupt; it is built upon lies and controlled by more lies. Every major corporation and business that you welcome into your home has a puppet and each of these puppets has a chair in government, and together they recreate a giant fucking Punch and Judy show for us all to enjoy in our ignorance. Why should this effect you, I hear you ask? Well, my friends, my brothers, you do not know the extent of this disease that is democracy, you cannot conceive the severity of the cancer that is eating away at our society, it needs to be destroyed. The lies you have been told- the deception- it begs belief. I do not expect you to act upon my word alone however, which is why I intend to reveal to you, every hour, for the next 72 hours, a secret the government does not want you to know. I believe you will find this experience enlightening my brothers, my sisters, my friends, to discover what is being done with your hard earned money, to discover the many, many atrocities that are being covered up daily on our very streets! I promise you, that when we are through, those who evade persecution shall be delivered justice, and all of those who have spent their lives being punished daily- shall find liberty”

Scorch’s passion was so convincing that Isaac could almost believe it, despite knowing, in his heart, he was as apathetic as it was possible to be. The face on the screen did not speak for a moment; instead, it seemed to contemplate something. Scorch appeared to be stalling.

“And I say to those who would stop me, think on your own sins before you act, look amongst yourselves before you trust and then- only then- may you decide which side you wish to choose. Look upon this as enlightenment, and you will see that my cause is just.”

The screen flashed and was then enveloped by darkness. P looked inquisitively at Isaac.

“It would seem Scorch has already put his plan in motion.”

“No- that was not the plan he had in mind when I met him, he has changed his tactics.” Isaac was overcome with indecision. He knew Scorch was bad news, but his words were convincing him otherwise.

What he is saying sounds legitimate- but it can’t be- can it? He is a craze, power hungry, unfeeling dictator. He doesn’t care about liberation of the people, he doesn’t care about justice or equality or… What is it the government is hiding anyway? What could be so bad that the people would-

“He’s going to create chaos! That’s it! The people will rise up against the government, and the government will try and put the people down, and when all the dust settles, everyone will look to him for the solution, he will become the champion of the people, the saviour, and he will rule over everyone with no regard for any of them- no-one but himself.” Isaac shook his head, the ramifications of such a thing were frightening, he couldn’t let it happen, “we have to stop him.”

“Agreed,” stated P, “for now, you’ll be working with us Isaac, we will need your full support in this.”

“I see- and what exactly is my role here?”

P’s mouth curled up into a smile, and her dark eyes glimmered, it was frighteningly unnatural.

“Simple… you’re going to be bait.”

Wednesday, 18 September 2013

My Sister's Mannequin

Throughout the majority of my life, my sister has been the pride of the family. Daddy’s little princess, Mommy’s little star, Nanny’s little angel. She was a dancer, a good dancer, I’ll give her that much… But it was precisely the dancing that led to the events that I am about to recollect.

My parents were busy individuals, meaning me and my sister spent a lot of time at our grandmother’s house. This unfortunate arrangement seemed to benefit everyone- everyone but me- my grandmother was the one who made all of my sister’s costumes, therefore all our time there was spent dedicated to her. Measuring, sewing, crafting, decorating and miniature performances, courtesy of my sister, were how we spent our time there; sometimes I was dragged into the activities, and sometimes I was pushed to the side-lines. I didn’t particularly enjoy it either way. I wouldn’t say I was jealous as such, maybe a little, but mainly I was just overcome with boredom due to my exclusion.

Anyway, when my grandmother designed these costumes for my sister she would pin them on her mannequin. For years she used the same one, it was a dismembered torso, consisting of a hard plastic skeleton and blue velvet flesh. It was covered in odd black tags which could be loosened or tightened to adjust the dimension of the thing, I always though they looked like rotten scabs or skin tags. To top it off, there were several hundred pins that had been jabbed into the body, as if it were some giant voodoo doll. I hated that thing, it freaked me out beyond comprehension, but then again, I was only young. Maybe it was because it was lacking limbs and a head, maybe it was because it had furry, blue skin, or maybe it was simply because it stood in solemn, perpetual silence.

I should say, my sister was quite a few years older than me, and she was in her mid-teens by the time I was seven years old. That was one of the reasons my grandmother abandoned her old mannequin; my sister had grown beyond the dimensions the mannequin could reach. Not only that, the wretched thing has become so battered and torn that she had little choice to get rid of it, or rather, replace it. The new model could not have been more different to its predecessor: it became the object of my obsession.

The first difference- this mannequin was full bodied and its flesh was the colour of- well- flesh. It had been specifically crafted to be the exact proportions of my sister, but that was where the similarity between the two ended. Her face was brighter, kinder, she always had a smile fixed upon her face, her hair was golden, and her eyes were a luminous, glorious green. She was less of a mannequin, and more like an oversized Barbie doll.

The second difference- this mannequin did not stand in solemn, perpetual silence.

At first she was just another figure, albeit an extremely well-crafted one, but it wasn’t long before that changed. She was extremely lifelike; she had all the features required of a human, she only lacked that spark of life which would make her a living soul, like myself. Her eyes were beautiful, but ultimately, they were dead- but that didn’t stop them from following me across the room.
That was how it started.

At first I didn’t notice, but over time it became more and more apparent. It filled me with hope, but I never approached her, for fear that she would retreat if I did.

One night I was lying awake, stuck at my grandmother’s house once again, bored out of my skull. The darkness seemed heavier than usual, I assumed it was because I was tired, but not tired enough to sleep. I heard something shuffling through the untrimmed grass in the back garden. I pulled myself out of bed and peered cautiously out of the window.

And there she was.

Stood at the end of the garden, her plastic flesh gleaming in the moonlight: my sister’s mannequin.

Her lifeless eyes gazed at me, looking into my own eyes and into my soul. Although they were unmoving, and blank, I swore I could see a glimmer of happiness inside her retinas. She waved at me, stiffly, and smiled. I was in shock, she seemed so please to see me- why? It was only me. I waved back enthusiastically, smiling just as wide. I don’t know how long I spent gazing out of the window at her, but when I turned away- just for a second- she was gone.

Things were uneventful for some time following that night. Several months passed, with nothing out of the ordinary occurring. Although there was one thing I found peculiar, my grandmother took more interest in me, nothing extreme of course, my sister was still her pride and joy- the apple of her eye- but I wasn’t as excluded as I once was, on some occasions she even went out of her way to ask me question about school and my friends. My sister remained as ignorant as ever.

During that period, the mannequin remained still. For some reason, after that night, she became extremely shy. I would sometimes go up to her during the day and ask her why she didn’t move, why she wouldn’t talk to me, but I never received an answer. Eventually however, she did move again, and like the time before; it was at night that she came to life. Apparently she wasn’t shy when it became dark; I thought maybe she was self-conscious.

I don’t remember much from that first night, It is hazy now, I just remember seeing her standing still outside my door, peering in, studying me. Her hand, with her fingers all stuck together, opening the door just a fraction more. I invited her to come in, but she shied away at the sound of my voice. I was so bored, and so lonely at my grandmother’s house, I just wanted a friend to play with, just someone to relieve the monotony of each day spent there, and she was unwilling to come and play with me. Eventually, however, I coerced her into the room.

I guess the reason I loved her so much, was because whenever I was in that house I felt unloved, and uncared for. When she was around, it was all about me, which is selfish I know, but for a brief amount of time, it was what I needed, because I wasn’t getting that kind of attention anywhere else.

After that first night I would look forward to visiting my grandmother’s every week. Me and the mannequin would play almost every night, once everyone had gone to sleep. We played lots of games, but out favourite was always hide and seek. Sometime she would be lying under my bed with her motionless hand sticking out, or she would be hiding in my wardrobe with the door open just a crack so her inanimate eyes could peek to see if I was coming. It was more fun than usual because we had to be extra quiet, so we didn’t wake anyone. This went on for some time, until one night we made a little too much noise.

We woke my sister.

She emerged from her bedroom, and her mannequin ran away and hid. She asked me what the hell I thought I was doing, and I told her everything. Needless to say she didn’t believe me, she told me I was being stupid and that I should go back to sleep. I insisted that I was telling the truth, but she refused to believe me, eventually however, after some persistence, she agreed to let me show her.
We ventured down the stairs and into the front room where the mannequin stood, still and lifeless. However, no amount of convincing or coercion could wake her from her slumber, and eventually my  sister returned to her room, and I returned to mine, confused and disappointed.

I knew she was shy, but I didn’t understand why she did not want to play with my sister as well as me.

I was determined to prove it to her, not matter what. The next time we stayed at my grandmother’s house, I told my sister to hide in the wardrobe, so she would be able to see that I was telling the truth when her mannequin decided to visit me that night. She reluctantly agreed, stating that she was only doing it to ‘prove me wrong’ so that I could give up my ‘stupid story’.

Night came, and I settled into bed as usual. Time passed slowly, and I soon became fearful that she wouldn’t show. I came close to admitting defeat, maybe I had in fact, imagined it all, but just as I was about to tell my sister she was right and that she could leave, I heard a familiar creak sound from the stairs. I was overcome with excitement as she appeared at the door. However, she wasn’t smiling like usual, something was wrong.

She entered without hesitation and sat on my bedside. She was silent, and wouldn’t look me in the eye.

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

“Your sister- she can’t know about me- about us.” Her voice sounded tired, and hoarse.


“She wouldn’t understand.” That was all she said to me.

I remember beginning to cry and the mannequin holding me in her cold, solid and unmoving arms. The rest has faded from my memory.

When my sister emerged from the wardrobe, once her mannequin was gone, she didn’t speak a word, instead she simply left the room in silence, her eyes wide, and went to bed.

The next day our parents picked us up. When we arrived home, my sister asked to speak to them in private- without me. She’s excluding me again! I thought to myself. I don’t know for certain what she told them, but I can imagine it was about what had happened the night previously, because when they came back there was a lot of crying and hugging- from my mother at least- from my father; there was only anger.

I didn’t see my grandmother again after that day. We never stayed the night, or even visited, I didn’t really understand why. My main reason for returning of course was for the mannequin, but my parents would never let me go back. According to my mother, my grandmother had done something extremely ‘bad’ and according to my father she was a ‘monster’

I don’t remember a monster, I only remember the mannequin.

It became clearer to me in time what had truly happened in that house. I cannot remember the reality, but honestly I don’t think I want to, I much prefer to recall the mannequin.

Although it is no longer a source of obsession, not anymore, now she simply haunts my dreams, my nightmares, and I cannot remove those apathetic eyes from my mind.

Monday, 9 September 2013

Update (September)

...And so September comes :)

I suppose I should stop to say 'thank you' to all of the people who have taken time to view this blog over the past few months, I will constantly endeavour to improve the blog, making it easier on the eye and more accessible. 

I didn't get round to posting two new chapters of the 'Timothy Dallow Chronicles' unfortunately, however I shall do my best to remedy that by posting two new updates this month, as well as the next chapter of 'Glyph.' and a couple of new ideas I have floating around. 

As you may have already noticed, the completed 'Words Over Coffee' is now in one place, in a tab at the top of the page so you can read it easily in its entirety... I shall do the same with any other series I complete in the future, so look out for them there. 

Last month I was told about a subreddit: /r/writingprompts/ which is where the latest story has emerged from. If there is anyone struggling to find their feet with writing, I would highly recommend visiting the page and writing some stories, it's a fantastic source of inspiration, and I imagine there will certainly be a few more stories on this blog that have originated from a prompt over there.

I think that is about it for this update... thank you all again for reading, and I shall see you wherever this path takes us :)

The Last Emails of a Bigamist.

Dear Maddison,
If you are reading this, then I am dead.
This is an email- a short passage- to show my appreciation and admiration for all you are and all you have been to me.
I know I’m not, and never was, the most attentive husband, I know I wasn’t always there for you, but I can tell you now, without a doubt in my mind, that I always cared deeply for you, more so than anyone else. You were my world and have been since the moment we met.
I think now of all the little things that you do that make me love you- simple things- the way you smile when I return home from work, the way your eyes glimmer whenever we see a production, the way you tie up your hair as you cook. The most trivial things are the ones that stay with me, maybe it is because I like to think if I remember the trivial, the rest will come easily to me, that way I can picture you exactly as you are. I want you to know that I love all of those little things about you, I always have, and I always will.
Do you remember our holiday to Greece, back in 92?
If I were to choose one memory to take with me on the journey to the other side, it would be that one.
The hotel was terrible, the food not much better, but it didn’t matter, because we had each other, and we sat on the beach watching the sun set and talking about things that didn’t even matter, until it was cold and dark and I had to hold you close to warm you with my embrace.
If there is a heaven… that would be it.
There is a chance- no- more than a chance-
A Likelihood that your perception of me in the coming weeks will be flawed. I plead with you not to think badly of me if such events occur, I know I could have done more, I know I should have been there for you when you needed me most, there is nothing I can say that will justify my many faults, I just hope that my persistent, passionate, undying love for you redeems them to some degree.
I will miss you when I am gone, my love.
I shall miss your compassion, your kindness and gentle nature. You are the most caring individual I have ever had the pleasure of knowing, let alone loving, and it has been my delight to share my life with you. Goodbye, Maddison
My love remains with you,
Forever and always. X

Dear Andrew.
If you are reading this, I am dead.
This is an email- a short passage- to say some of the things I never said to you whilst I was living.
I love you.
That was something I said… but never said enough. One of my biggest regrets is not treating every day with you as precious, and not telling you how much you meant to me on each of those days. If I could relive our time together, I would be sure to say ‘I love you’ every morning as the sun rose, and every evening as it set.
Another thing I wish I could take back are the fights we always had, the majority of them caused by me.
It is a terrible thing to admit, and it makes me hate myself even to type... but I was ashamed.
You could see that whilst I loved you with all my heart, I was never comfortable, I was never settled. It’s funny… but lying here now, I know that should I be granted the privilege of life I would never spend another day living in shame. I would walk through the streets, hand in hand, even shouting our love from the rooftops. You may not believe me, that’s understandable, I wouldn’t believe me either.
The day we got married was the happiest day of my life, and despite what has been previously said, that day I felt no shame. It was disbelief I felt more than anything; disbelief that someone such as yourself would ever consent to marrying someone such as me.
You have an attitude with which you approach life that I could only ever dream of. You are the living definition of Carpe Diem. Every day is a blessing to you, and you treat it as such, doing anything and everything you can to entertain yourself and others. You introduced me to a whole new world of thrills, and I am forever thankful, you are solely to blame for bringing me out of my shell. You are by every definition, the better half of me, the side that thrives in this world, instead of hiding from it.
Our first meeting in Athens, back in 92, was surely divine intervention. You may hear things of me in the weeks following my death- rumours. I implore you not to listen, and simply to think of the time we shared and what it meant to us both. It is for both our sakes, so I can rest in peace, and you can continue to live knowing without a doubt that you were my one true love.
I’m sorry if I ever hurt you- no- I know I did, and I am sorry.
You deserved a love greater than I could give.
Goodbye, Andrew
My love. X

Dear Samantha
If you are reading this, then I am dead.
This is an email- a short passage- to tell you what is on my mind as the end draws near.
You were always the one who listened, and I the one who talked, constantly, endlessly, and you never said a word. You never complained, you never seemed dissatisfied, and I was selfish.
If I could go back now, I would shut my mouth, and allow you to open up for a change. I would listen attentively to your every word and console or support you, whichever was required at the time. Of course, it is too little much too late now, but I wanted you to know that I do think of you, even if I never seemed to show it.
The reason I made you listen is because I loved you, and I love you because you listened. Without you, I would surely have been driven mad many, many years ago. You always brought me back down to earth, you are the anchor that grounds me, and I am forever grateful to you for that.
You were the perfect wife, and I the neglectful husband.
You cared for me when I was ill, you listened to me when I was in need of someone to confide in, you were always my shoulder to cry on, and I am eternally grateful for that.
You were always ambitious however, and I wasn’t always supportive of your prospects. I want to apologise for that now, because as death looms ever closer I realise all I want is happiness for my loved ones, and you deserve the utmost happiness.
When I am gone, I want you to pursue your dreams, the way you never could whilst I was still your husband.
You have been my rock for far too long, I was selfish to always lean on you, and you should now have the opportunity to have the life you always dreamed of.
You will recall the time I was called away to Greece back in 92? Every waking moment of my time spent in that gorgeous country was spent thinking of you, my mind constantly returning to my love waiting back at home.
I fear I am going to be leaving this world very soon.
The end scares me Samantha.
I fear the dark void of death- I fear going into that darkness alone, without a soul to hold on to. I’ve never been a particularly brave man- you know that- so you can imagine better than any other what effect this is having upon me.
Although I always confided in you, you must know that there are some things I kept even from you, Samantha. You may begin to hear rumours once I am gone. You were never one to listen to such things, so I trust you will not indulge them, but if you should, please- I beg you not to think too harshly of me. I am a flawed man, I’ve never pretended to be anything more, but I fear what might be said could be past redemption.
Be well, my love.
I love you,
Always. X

Dear Mother
If you are reading this, I am dead.
And I am sorry… no parent should live to watch their child perish. I have a confession to make, one that pains me, and one that will no doubt pain you also.
I am a coward, I am a fool, and I am a terrible, terrible human being.
I am a liar, a cheat, a fraud and a charlatan.
I am a bigamist.
I married two women and a man, and have remained married to all of them for just over twenty years.
I don’t know if you can ever forgive me for my mistakes, you always had such high hopes for me, you always thought I had such great potential, but it turns out that this is it.
I am certain that, following my death, the truth will come to light, and when it does- all of the people I loved in life will hate me. They will curse the name of their dead husband, their fiancé, their one true love- because they were not mine.
I need to say this however- I love them all.
I never lied about that.
My love could not be satisfied by one person alone, I love all of them more than life itself, and I will continue to love them even in death. It pains me that they cannot be with me, by my deathbed, all of them, because I need them here now more than ever.
I want to tell them that I am sorry.
I want to tell them that I wish things could be different.
But I cannot choose who I love, and I would not want to, for they have made me the happiest man alive during my time on this earth. I shall weep for them, and they shall weep for me, until they discover one another, then the weeping shall stop.
I took a holiday to Greece in the year of 1992 with Maddison in attempt to clear my head. In the end, I left one love behind, I took another with me, and I found one whilst I was there. It was that year that I accepted who I was, I accepted it, but I never liked it… I always loathed myself.
Mother, my love is extended to you who cared for me all these years, who guided me in life and saw that I knew the difference between right and wrong. I fear that in light of this new information you may feel you have failed where I am concerned, but do not think that way, you were the best mother I could ask for, you are the one person alone I can trust absolutely, and the one person I know will love me unconditionally throughout this whole sordid affair.
I’m sorry for all of the trouble I have caused, and all the trouble I am yet to cause, you deserved so much more.
Thank you for everything mother.
I love you.
And please, if the worst happens, and my spouses discover one another, would you do me the favour of telling each of them that I truly did love them, and that I am so very, very sorry.
I’m so afraid, I have never felt so utterly alone.
The thought that you will be here soon... with me, when I am close to passing, is a comforting one. Thank you for always being there.
Love Always-
  • Your Jack x