~*~*~*~Geep~*~*~*~
He had been driving for a while into the darkness of a long forgotten road.
I don’t
remember much of that night after that. Don’t remember how I made it back to my
flat, and but there I was. Maybe that chat was just some fuckin’ figment of my
imagination or some shit like that, but it wasn’t. I wasn’t even drunk or high,
so it was real, right?
~*~*~*1988-2:00A.M. Murdoc's Winnebago*~*~*~
Right there on the bed table, was the envelope addressed and
given to him, Murdoc Niccals, by them. "Might
as well open it and see what it says.” He opened the envelope carefully as if it would go off. The
envelope fell to the floor as he took the note out, the yellowed paper looked
delicate and expensive. He began to read the writing that was written in red.
You have
been chosen to be part of our group. If you accept, go to 24 Baron St. at ten
o’clock P.M., no earlier, no later. Come alone, knock on the door three times
and wait for further instructions.
It was signed with a bloody thumbprint and nothing more.
He began to lie on the bed. “Who are these people?” he said
to himself. The letter left him with a tangle of questions ‘Is this real?’ ‘Is
this some kind of joke?’ ‘Should I go?’
‘What am I getting myself into?’
These thoughts plagued him up to his last moments of
consciousness. He fell into his dreams.
* * *
He was in the dark; there was a red glow that swallowed the
room. There was a boy huddled on the floor, shivering and clutching his body as
if trying to keep reality from setting in. But staring forward with hurt eyes
as if someone was in the dark. His face was hidden by the shadows; he had
beautiful pale skin that was splotched with bruises and gashes. He seemed to
have once worn a t-shirt and jeans, but they were now bloody tattered rags
barely resembled what they were on his skeletal body. His blue hair was matted
to his head and streaked with dirt and dried blood. He kept his gaze at the darkness,
and his voice was broken and barely audible, “Why?” he said, looking into the
dark. A voice from the shadows answered “Why not, dullard?” it growled. “But,
you’re my best friend, I fought you liked me?” the boy whimpered.
“Well you thought wrong, bastard. You’re just a pathetic
dolt who’s worthless, and…” the voice in the dark began to gain form, as it
came into the light, ”now, it’s time to put you out of my life for good.” He
was a man, with a cruel expression on his face, yet his bi-colored eyes seemed
give away his true feelings: anger, sadness and fear. There was deafness of
silence, (except for the boy’s breathing) a moment that seemed an eternity. A
cold voice sliced through the air, “Finish him and all the suffering will end,
you’ll be what you’ve always dreamed of… or must we discipline you again?”
He said nothing. Still staring at the quivering child.
Suddenly he felt a whip in his hands, his eyes never left the boy. He began to
lift his arm up ready to strike the boy. His ears were pounding with the sound
of the whip whistling through the air and horrified sound of the whip cracking
as it hit…
* * *
“Nooooo!” Murdoc yelled as he bolted up, his face sweating
and breath harsh with an expression of fear. “Oh shit! What the hell was that?”
It took him a while to find solid ground within himself. As he began to calm
down, his thoughts began to drift back to the invitation. Would he get what he
wanted from them or would they get what they wanted from him?
~*~*~*~*~
Pick your poison:
<-Chapter Three or Chapter Five->
Or