Hello friends. I must apologise to those of you that have been following the Shining and were expecting more of the story to be loaded last month. I was thoroughly waylaid by some of my side projects and just could seem to find the time to write. Couldn't find the time till roughly a week ago, that is. Expect more on the story within the next week or so.
In the meantime, I have a different treat for you - well two treats to be exact. First is an motoring article I was lucky enough to be asked to put together. This article is the first publicly published piece of work by me, other than on this blog. Find the article at this link: http://www.autoworld.co.za/NewsArticle.aspx?Article=10812 I am very keen to hear what your thoughts on the article are.
The second treat, is an unexpected collaboration with a fellow writer. She is not ready to enter the public space yet, despite all my promptings and bribery to get her to start. Keep an eye on this page for when she does cause I do believe her to be a phenomenal writer. Let me give you some background on how this collaboration came to be, before I get too sidetracked. Since late July had been suffering that age-old affliction known as writers block. Though I know where the story of the Shining is supposed to go, I could not get pen to paper (or rather finger tips to keyboard, in my case). Two weeks ago I mentioned my condition to my dear, fellow writer - mentioned above. In her efforts to cure me of the affliction, she suggested free writing based on prompting from random words we found. Now, it must be said, we were on two completely different trains of thought when the idea was first broached - let alone on the first few paragraphs of what developed as result. We eventually settled on a collaboration and here is what came up.
Keep in mind, we were not physically in front of each other when we wrote this and there was no plan at all for where the story would go.
Without further blah blah blah from me.. Here is the story. Read. Enjoy. Give feedback.
Darklings
"The boy’s bad news,"
Simpson said, letting the bloodied arm fall back to the floor. The body it
belonged to lay some feet away, where it had been tossed. "He didn’t even know
he’d led them here. It’s strange how they follow him."
His red-headed partner
sighed, but didn’t comment. She missed working alone. This man had no style.
She pulled her gloves on and looked over the remains of the body. "Where do you
think he was hiding it?"
The smell of death always
drew Simpson out of his usual introspection. He knew it made the others feel
uncomfortable when they saw the excitement in his eye. "He probably locked
himself in that walk-in fridge," he said, pointing. "I hear they have trouble
sensing him through metal." He eyed Vanessa then as she meticulously pulled her
gloves on.
Vanessa wondered if he knew
the rumours about how he’d come to ‘hear’ so much in the first place. He had
that manic look in his eye again, like the experimental Blood-Boil junkies she’d
monitored when she was a rookie. He gave her a headache when he got like this.
She walked over to the refrigerator, giving Simpson a wide berth. At the door,
she stopped and delicately tasted the air. "He’s here," she confirmed. "Break
it down."
Hearing those words was
sweet release to Simpson. Without warning, he stepped up, grabbed the
refrigerator door and pulled. The others watched as his muscles bunched. ‘Let them see,’ he thought. ‘This is what you get in exchange.’ His
senses were keen. Almost as keen as Vanessa’s. His madness prevented him from
accessing them fully, but it gave him strength. More strength than the others
realised. The boy was just behind this door. All he had to do was open it. His
fingers dug into the metal…
He’d gotten close to her
before she realised. Before she could turn away, the power of his being hit her
full force. Bloodlust, thick and heavy in her throat, and the taste of copper
in her mouth. From inside her, she felt a sharp, crackling energy, strong
enough to split her in two, she thought. She swayed, grabbing at the wall
nearby, and realised that the feeling inside her was delight. Sheer, mad,
delirious delight. Vanessa dug her fingernails into her palm, concentrating on
the pain, trying to bring herself back to herself, before she let in any more
of him.
The door’s hinges sheered
and gave way with a cracking sound. Simpson heard a sharp, startled gasp escape
Vanessa’s lips. When he looked at her he saw traces of the retreating Bloodlust
in her eyes. The satisfaction of driving her that close to it was almost too
much for him. ‘Soon, Vanessa. Soon you
will submit to me,’ the voice in his head cooed. He tossed the huge fridge
door aside with a negligent flick of his wrist. The others regarded him with
hateful eyes. They dared not make a move against him. Not when he was this
close to a frenzy. Inside the fridge sat a boy. No older than thirteen. Sandy
haired. Eyes of perfect blue. Eyes that regarded Simpson with cool
determination. Then Simpson felt it. The rhythmic thump emanating from the boy.
Pressure in his head. The Other One wanted to take over control of the body.
Simpson’s fangs ached to sink into the boy. So much power. The Blood Boil was
calling…
It didn’t work fast enough;
Simpson’s power still pulsed viciously from inside her, making her frantic.
This had to be managed. She couldn’t afford to let the others see the full
extent of her sensitivity. They were watching Simpson now, as he put on his
little show; for once, she was grateful for the man’s arrogance. It gave her a
chance. She yanked back her sleeve and pushed her forearm into the rough grain
of the brickwork, dragging her skin against it hard. It did the trick. The top
layer of her skin was sanded off, the pain immediate and clear, bringing
Vanessa instantly back to full awareness. She gulped down lungfuls of air,
relieved to be free. The refrigerator door landed on the opposite side of the
room, and she watched the way the others stared at Simpson. Awe, terror,
bordering on reverence. She knew at least one of them wanted to be jerking off right
now. The boy’s scent drifted into her awareness, at the same time she realised
that Simpson was close to turning. She gritted her teeth, and gathered up her
energy, focussing it in the tip of her finger. She stepped between Simpson and
the boy, and touched his forehead. ‘We are working. Stop this.’
‘The Touch. So close’. He bared his fangs at her in
defiance. The Other One laughed. At that moment Simpson wished desperately for
a way to shut Him out. To cut that sniggering laughter off. To kill Him. Once
and for all. The rhythm of the throbbing sped up. He looked over Vanessa’s
shoulder. The mist had begun to gather around the boy. The boy stood. Burning,
unrelenting power poured out of him. They were too late. The boy’s feet had
already started to disappear. The look in those cold blue eyes mocked Simpson.
The smile on his lips a challenge. This power was the reason the Covenant
wanted the boy. This power was the reason Simpson wanted to sink his teeth into
the boy’s coronary artery. To drink of that blood. What wonders would it
reveal? What power would he, Simpson, wield by taking in the boy’s Blood Boil? ‘None,’ the Other One intoned in the
recesses of his mind.
‘With that power I will silence you,’ Simpson thought. The Other
One laughed. The power pulsed now. Gathering around the boy as the mist
continued to grow. Even though there were six of them, Simpson knew there was
nothing they could do. A lump of disappointment twisted in him. If only Vanessa
hadn’t moved so quickly. If only... Simpson picked up the scent of blood in the
air. It wasn’t much but enough to get his attention. It wasn’t the blood of the
three dead people in the room behind him. This was fresh blood. It smelt
like... Vanessa? He looked back at her. She was calm. Finger still on his forehead,
holding him back. Her arm had already begun to close the wound, but Simpson had
seen enough. ‘So close...’
Vanessa almost wanted to
laugh, though she suspected it would grow into a scream if she did. Or a sob.
Caught between the Devil and the deep blue sea, and what a Devil Simpson made,
raging silently behind her, his fury rising off him like steam and raising the
hair at the back of her neck. And this boy standing before her, already
manifesting the Shroud, gleeful malevolence spilling from him like blood from
an uncauterised wound. She exhaled slowly, narrowing her focus to shut out the
panic from the others, and the molten heat from Simpson. Deep, deep underneath,
the boy remained. She half-closed her eyes and felt for him. ‘Who are you?’ she
asked softly, and felt something shift. She knew she had the attention of
whatever humanness remained, but also of the Other. She steeled herself, ignoring
the feeling. Images and feelings rushed at her. Small. Confined. Painful.
Someone pulling the wings off a fly. Gritty. The smell of saltwater- and now
she knew why she’d thought of the deep blue sea. She saw a small boy playing on
the beach, alone. The sounds grew soft, the sunlight dimmed, and the shadows
distorted and danced around the boy. The child’s terror tightened around her
like a tangible thing, and she knew she would see no more- the Other turned all
his attention to her, and she felt the full force of his anger.
Simpson strained against
the effects of The Touch. He needed to at least try get to the boy before the
Shroud was complete. He felt Vanessa’s Projection touch him lightly, but its
focus was not on him. It was on the boy. Did she want the boy’s Blood Boil for
herself? No, she would serve the power to the Covenant. Her servitude to them would
have to be broken. His immediate problem, though, was getting his body to
respond to his commands. The Touch had effectively neutralized his movements.
Frustration welled up inside him. He would not stand for this. He was of the
Third, and deserved respect as such. His rage was a surprise even to him.
Despair and frustration were immediately buried under a towering rage. The
Other One laughed in the recesses of Simpson’s consciousness. ‘Do you want my power?’ it asked.
Simpson could feel it mocking him. ‘What
will you give me in return?’ Still mocking. He had no choice. His broken
mind was so engrossed in his rage that he barely noticed when he bit his tongue
off. The sweet pain was a distant sensation felt by someone else. ‘That will do
just fine,’ the Other One cooed as he burst out from Simpson’s sub-conscious.
He felt his fangs extend. Power surged through him. Yet, he felt it rush
through someone else’s body. He saw himself move with incredible speed.
Bleeding tongue spat out to one side as his slap threw Vanessa to the ground.
The power! The body that had been his reached out a hand and caught the boy by
the throat. The force of the throw that followed sent the boy crashing into the
back wall of the refrigerator. ‘How did
He access so much power?’ Simpson asked himself as he sat locked in his
mind. Detached. He could sense Blood Boil powers that were never there when he
was in control of the ancient body he shared with The Other One. His fury
escalated. ‘How did He access that power?’
The electric zing of the
slap took Vanessa by surprise. She had felt Simpson break her bind not a second
ago. She hit the side of the fridge and caught herself just before she fell to
the ground. She could not let the others see her fall so easily. Subordinates
were supposed to believe her more than a match for Simpson. Yet, the fire-like
sensation on the skin where Simpson had slapped her and the broken jaw told her
she wasn’t. It didn’t make sense. She had bound Simpson as easily as she had
done countless times before. She knew his limitations and was capable of
handling him any time she wished. Her power superseded his. But somehow he
broke her Bind. She had not seen how he did it, but had turned just in time to
catch his backhanded slap. With her face. She clenched the muscles around her
jaw to keep it in place. It would heal in a few minutes and she didn’t want to
have to re-break it so it would set right. The shock of the sudden attack lit up
her anger. Where had all that power come from? His Blood Boil was far below
hers. Yet somehow he not only broke her Bind, but almost slapped her face off. ‘Get a grip, Vanessa!’ she silently
scolded herself. ‘Get a grip, and put
this arrogant asshole back in his place.’ Determination straightened her
up. Shoulders set. On the brink of Turning. Then Simpson turned to regard her
with calm, collected eyes. There was something different about him. His entire
mannerism had changed. She sunk into the depths of terror as she realized it
was no longer Simpson she was looking at. Had he managed to reclaim what he
was? This cold malevolence that now turned to face her was new to her. It made
her heart twist in fear. She didn’t have to Project to feel the power emanating
from the person that had been Simpson. Had he been hiding this all along?
Playing the part of a halfwit fallen lord while holding such power? Even the
Second didn’t have this much power. The boy lay on the floor behind the
stranger she now faced. He was either dead or unconscious. She had seen precious
little of what Simpson - The Stranger - had done to him, but a glance at the
other two told her he had done something unexpected and direct. She tried to
speak, forgetting about her jaw. Pain exploded on her left cheek and she
clenched the muscles again. ‘Who is this person?’
It was amusing to see the
shocked look on Vanessa’s face. The others were in reverence to the power he
had just demonstrated. The half-century of scorn and dismissal gone from their
faces. Word would get out. Simpson had moved like one of the Third. He stood
like them even as they stared. He was regal. Poised. Commanding. Vanessa eyed
the tongue on the floor. Disbelief dawning on her. He bit his tongue off. It
was a difficult part of the body to grow back, but he had done it. She looked
back at him. Her eyes a mystery. He sensed her Projection tentatively touch the
awareness that is The Other One. It was brushed aside with such negligence that
Simpson wished he had that kind of power. He turned his attention away from the
body he had been in control of just a few minutes ago. His focus on the Blood -
the powers it held. He tried to find their source and why they were hidden from
him. He had done this every time The Other One took control, which wasn’t too
often. In the three centuries since his mind broke, Simpson had give over
control of the body only twice. One of which was not by choice. Again he failed
to find the source nor how to access them. ‘That bastard,’ he thought. ‘Give me Vanessa!’ he threw the thought
at The Other one. His answer came in a flood of mental activity. ‘No,’ it said. ‘You will work to have
her yourself.’ Frustration rose in him. How dare He take his body and not give
him what he wanted.
The last of the pain
drained away; her jaw was fully healed. It seemed to Vanessa that her panic had
dissolved along with it; her mind was clear, calmly taking stock of the
situation. The backup agents were belligerent, overcompensating sycophants at
the best of times, but right now she knew they would be less than useless to
her. Nothing in their briefing had touched on Simpson's malady extending this
far, and the agents reeked of fear and desperation. And The Stranger, though he
radiated malice strong enough to make her bones ache, didn't seem an immediate
threat to her- although she'd been swatted away when she reached into its mind,
it seemed uninterested in harming her any further. The Stranger had its sights
set firmly on the boy, and the boy (back on his feet, completely unharmed)
returned his interest with a barely-human grin. This was no longer a standard
subdue-and-capture. This was shaping up to be a monster fight. As for who or
what Simpson had become... This wasn't possession.
Vanessa had seen hundreds
of cases, and Simpson didn't feel possessed. It didn't quite feel like turning,
either. There was a nuance, a different flavour to it, that she had never seen
before. She took a breath, releasing it slowly. What did she really know about
Simpson? Many spoke of his power, but none spoke of him as a friend. His
bloodlust, she knew from earlier, was deep and insatiable. He drove too fast
and smoked cigars. He was the only man who looked her in the eye; the other
Covenant lackeys zeroed in on her breasts or thighs. The man was an island, it
seemed, entire of himself. Why, then, was he content to serve as a tool for the
Covenant? Solely to feed his lust for battle? She bit her lip. With the boy and
The Stranger sizing one another up, she'd faded into the periphery. And since
the agents were paralysed and awestruck, there was one trick she just might be
able to pull off.
Thats as far as we have gone dear friends. What did you think? Another one really enjoyed writing and it cured me of the writers block affliction. Its will carry on. We'll see here this one takes us.
Till next time folks. Take care out there.
Nic. Out.
