Chapter 5: The Bloodstained Letter

A Chapter by Mathew Nicolson

Carrie regained consciousness, still lying on the wet grass; Paul hadn’t moved her.

“Whe… where am I?”

“You’re in the middle of a park,” Paul replied, helping her up.

“Paul! The… this thing, it �" A sword! It wanted to… Rebecca!”

“Carrie, slow down!” He looked at her; she was as white as a sheet.

“Lie on the bench, before you faint again,” he said.

“No… I’m fine,” she replied. “I was at Rebecca’s, and this guy with a sword came running in and attacked us!”

Paul laughed slightly.

“No, seriously.”

“Yes! Seriously! I have the feeling… it was after Rebecca.”

“Why…?”

“Well… that locket of hers…”

Paul’s eyes suddenly filled with fear, and even maybe a tear or two.

“L…Locket?” he was almost shaking. “CARRIE? DESCRIBE IT!”

“Wha?”

“WHAT DID IT LOOK LIKE?”

“It’s gold… and… triangular.”

That didn’t help Paul’s fear one bit.

“How? How could she have that?” Paul thought to himself, as if unaware Carrie was there. “When I searched through his cabinet, it was missing… I assumed he’d got rid of it somehow…”

“Rebecca tried to get rid of it too,” Carrie said. “I was with her. She said she though it was responsible for the fire, I didn’t bel-”

“If she had the locket during the fire, it could very well be responsible,” Paul said.

“What do you know about it?” Carrie asked.

“Not enough. We need to find Rebecca!”

“Where will she be?”

“She’ll probably be at the police station, they live quite near!”

Without saying anything else, he ran off. Carrie followed him.

“I don’t think Rebecca would go to the police station!” she shouted to him.

“Where else would she go? Chances are she won’t be there, but it’s the best option! If you’re going to complain, don’t bother coming or you’ll hold me up!” he replied as fast as possible, before running again.

“Fine! I won’t!”

Billy and Paul arrived at the police station at the same time.

“Finally, someone who can explain what’s going on!” Paul cried. “Well? What is going on?”

“We were attacked,” Billy replied. “Mum, Rebecca, Carrie and me.”

“By what!?”

“This… Knight.”

Paul stepped backwards in shock.

“That’s… that’s what Carrie told me.” He said.

Billy walked up to the window and peaked inside.

“Mum’s not there! That’s the only reason I came here! What if something happened…”

“Are you not going to tell them about the… Knight?” Paul asked.

“What can they do?” Billy cried. “That… Knight, that thing, it’s not normal…” He sighed. “I shouldn’t have let Rebecca out of my sight, I need to find her!”

“Where did she go?” Paul asked.

“…To find you…” Billy said slowly, realising. “She’d have gone to your house!!”

“…Oh no…”

Rebecca put the key into the padlock, and it fell off the cabinet. She was disappointed when she looked inside. There were the same papers she’d seen all those months ago. But still, if they were with the locket.

RUN! LEAVE THE PAPERS!!

“SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP!!” Barry’s voice screamed from downstairs, followed by a slap, which was followed by a shout of pain from Ann. She’d need to get out, now. And maybe when this was all over, call the police about how Barry was abusing Ann and Paul. But after… this was far, far more important. She grabbed the papers, even though her intuition for some reason said to leave them, and made a run for it, making no effort to be quiet. Barry had obviously heard.

“HEY! YOU! STAY WHERE YOU ARE!!” he shouted as loud as he could, as she passed.

“B, Barry!?” Ann managed to say. But Rebecca stopped listening. She pulled open the door, which luckily hadn’t been locked, and continued running until she was a long, long way away from the house.

Puffing and panting, she sat down on some park bench, and looked at the papers. The first was old bills �" useless. The second was some love-note from an ex girlfriend, dating back nearly thirty years. Rebecca, under different circumstances, might have wondered why these were in the same cabinet as the locket, but right then all she was concerned about was whether there’d be information on the locket.

The third was something that had been written very hurriedly and in scribbled handwriting. The corner was also stained in blood. Rebecca began to read.

“There is no hope for a species. They wander, quite alone, into the sunset of sorrow. They were born into it, and shall be born out of it. All things that pass are under it, and connected. He, who realises this, loses hope forever.

It is my duty to note, that at the end of all things, I realise that there’s not only wandering, but cause of despair. We vainly scratch the picture frame of all that is good, failing each and every time. In time we come and go but the one thing that will never pass is eternity. Eternity is eternal.

As I write this, I look out the window and see the garden of creation. That is, the garden of truth. The truth that God created and never showed is the most important of all truth. It means that all that is false was never inciting, but only blasphemy. If we follow this road, we shall lose our soul.

And so I wonder, how can we call this life? There is no life, there is only the madness that covers us all like a veil in the dark, smothering and concealing us, slowly destroying all we ever were. Do we continue to insist that this is it, or do we search through our meaningless existence for the object of attention? Once we have an answer, we shall have life. As the man who fights for humanity said, “There is only this option or that option, whichever we choose I know guides our head and teaches us to search anew”

Stars come and go, just as you and I. The point is, there is none who can stop this fate. The vague notion of meaning fills the hearts of many, devouring those without hope. Those unlucky victims cling on to whatever they can, having realised their place in the universe, and the moment they let go, they become like me. They know how to become an eternal being, capable of much more than an average cucumber. They become as God, powering over the unworthy.

The end of all mentioned has beginning. I forgo the embers of reality, spitting on the calculus of man. This is the final contact. I hope you understand the morality of a tortured entanglement. I am sorry, but this is it. The end. The end. The end. And it is a sad thing pencil desk carpet bed knife BLOOD.”

She finished, horrified. It was a suicide note. Had Sam gone mad in his final moments? Was it that, not the locket that had killed him? Or, was it the locket that drove him mad? She felt it �" it had gone warm. She pressed it to her ear, and the faint ticking was ticking at a faster tempo. This was it; this was the best clue she’d ever get to what it was. She didn’t know how or why, but somehow she just knew.

Unnerved, but determined, she began trying to decipher any hidden meanings in it.

Billy and rushed along the road to Paul’s house.

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Paul said, trying to keep his breath. “What does Mum even see in him!?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Billy replied. “Look, we’re nearly there!”

Nearly wasn’t far enough. In front of them, a black figure leapt out from behind a tree. It was the Knight!

“Get back!” Billy shouted. It ran towards them, swinging the sword at an alarming rate.

Billy picked up a stone and threw it at the Knight. It bounced off his head.

“We’re gonna DIE!!!” Paul panicked, tripping and falling onto the ground. Billy tried another stone �" no good. The Knight came closer, and closer, and closer-

“STOP!”

Paul saw a pair of feet run in front of him, and then heard the clashing of swords.

“What are you two waiting for? Run!!” the man who had just saved them shouted.

“Search through our meaningless existence of the object of attention”… That could mean the locket. The picture-frame could be a reference too. But Rebecca had to be honest with herself; it was a load of nonsense! She didn’t want to know what was going through Sam’s head when he wrote that. She looked at the locket.

“Will that happen to me?”

She re-read it again a couple of times, just for the sake of it.

And then, something interesting. Certain words and phrases began to become highlighted. She read-

There is no hope for species. They wander, quite alone, into the sunset of sorrow. They were born into it, and shall be born out of it. All things that pass are under it, and connected. He who realises this, loses hope forever.

It is my duty to note, that at the end of all things, I realise that there’s not only wandering, but cause of despair. We vainly scratch the picture frame of all that is good, failing each and every time. In time we come and go but the one thing that will never pass is eternity. Eternity is eternal.

As I write this, I look out the window and see the garden of creation. That is, the garden of truth. The truth that God created and never showed is the most important of all truth. It means that all that is false was never inciting, but only blasphemy. If we follow this road, we shall lose our soul.

And so I wonder, how do we call this life? There is no life, there is only the madness that covers us all like a veil in the dark, smothering and concealing us, slowly destroying all we ever were. Do we continue to insist that this is it, or do we search through our meaningless existence for the object of attention? Once we have an answer, we shall have life. As the man who fights for justice said, “There is only this or that, whichever we choose I know guides our head and teaches us to search anew”

Stars come and go, just as you and I. The point is, there is none who can stop this fate. The vague notion of meaning fills the hearts of many, devouring those without hope. Those unlucky victims cling on to whatever they can, having realised their place in the universe, and the moment they let go, they become like me. They know how to become an eternal being, capable of much more than an average cucumber. They become as God, powering over the unworthy.

The end of all mentioned has beginning. I forgo the embers of reality, spitting on the calculus of man. This is the final contact. I hope you understand the morality of a tortured entanglement. I am sorry, but this is it. The end. The end. The end. And it is a sad thing pencil desk carpet bed knife BLOOD.

Was that a code? She wrote the words down on the back, using a pen she kept in her back pocket. Is said

“There is hope. I note at the end, it’s cause of the picture frame. As I write this the truth is important. It means we lose our soul. How do we destroy it? The man who fights knows. The point is, who can stop this fate. The vague notion they can, having realised how to power over man, the final contact of entanglement and BLOOD.”

Well, it was definitely a message. She stared at the note again, in awe of what was happening. What was causing this; it was just paper? But that didn’t matter; the important thing was she had a code. She read it. “…it’s cause of the picture frame…” that must mean the locket! “…it means we lose our soul…” that didn’t sound good at all. Did that suggest the locket steals your soul!?

“…how do we destroy it? The man who fights knows…” That must mean the Knight. So, the Knight knows how to destroy the locket…? That doesn’t help much… She sat for minutes, not saying a word, just thinking. Maybe if she gave the Knight the locket, he’d leave her alone and she’d lose it. Or the Knight would pull out his sword and butcher everyone in sight. Possibly both.

“The final contact of entanglement and blood”… There was no way she could even guess that one. When entanglement and blood made contact, she’d have power? What is an entanglement anyway?

There was no point denying it; she might as well have been given a novel in an alien language for the usefulness of the message. But, it was better than nothing. She now knew the Knight knows how to destroy it. Is that why is wanted the locket, so it could destroy it? Or was it the opposite, and the Knight wanted to stop it being destroyed?

Carrie walked along a street, on a constant lookout for Rebecca and the Knight. She entered a park, and saw Rebecca sitting on a bench with a load of papers on her lap.

“Rebecca?” she shouted, running towards her.

“Carrie,” she replied, but didn’t seem to be paying any attention.

“Rebecca?”

“Hm?” she mumbled, not looking at Carrie.

“Speak to me Rebecca!”

“What!”

“Well…just… Argh… WHAT IS GOING ON!?”

Rebecca handed her the paper with Sam’s suicide note.

“Is that blood?” she cried, screaming.

“Ignore the blood…”

Carrie read for a few seconds.

“This makes no sense!”

“Sam wrote it, just before he died I think,” Rebecca said. “Doesn’t explain how he died though. I think… somehow, because I have the locket, it’s as if… I dunno… I got a message.”

She turned it round, and showed Carrie the message. She then explained properly.

Paul and Billy ran.

“What!?” Billy shouted, confused.

“Don’t complain!” Paul shouted back. “Just run!”

They stopped after a few minutes, and looked back. There was no sign of the Knight or the mysterious man.

“It’s the locket… I know it!” Paul said.

“Locket?” Billy asked him.

“Billy, I need you to tell me, have you ever seen Rebecca with a golden, triangular locket?”

“Yes, she had it when the school caught fire.”

Paul swore. He muttered something, and then swore again.

“This is bad, this is bad, bad, bad!” he said.

“Uh… explanation?” Billy asked.

“Well, Dad right? He had a locket exactly the same! He got it about three years ago, from some Austrian woman at a car market,” Paul explained. “I never noticed it until a few months before he died, when he seemed to become more and more obsessed with it. He wouldn’t take it off, even to sleep. I once caught him just sitting there… talking to it, stroking it… Immediately after that, he died of unknown causes, as you know. I went to get rid of it but it had gone. I assumed he’d disposed of it himself, but Rebecca must have taken it!”

“You mean she stole it?”

“She might have been possessed for all I know… but… Billy. It scares me.”

Billy looked at Paul, thinking he’d heard wrong. Paul had never deliberately made himself seem vulnerable before, even though it was sometimes obvious he was. This must be bad.

Paul looked back along the road. There was no sign of anything.

“Well… what now?” he said.

“I don’t know about you, but I have 3 options. I can go find Mum, go find Rebecca, or go and find out who that man was.”

“I’m…” Paul said, thinking. “Who was that man?”

“We could return and find him…” said Billy.

“Yeah, he might know something!” Paul cried.

“I just hope the others are okay,” Billy sighed. They turned around, and walked back the way they came.

“This is not good,” Carrie said, stating the obvious. “So, you have the locket, and you can only find out how to destroy it by asking that psycho?”

“Yes, if you put it like that,” Rebecca replied. “And something about blood and entanglement, which I don’t understand.”

“And we have to do this alone?”

“Who will help us?” Rebecca said, more to herself than Carrie, who couldn’t think of an answer.

“What are you going to do?” Carrie asked.

“I think… I don’t know what… but… if it… I could... no…”

“What?”

“Well,” she started, slightly scared of even thinking about having to do it. “I could just give it to the Knight.”

“Are you mad!? He tried to KILL you!”

“And blood-”

“What?” Carrie said, startled.

“It says something about entanglement and blood. Say the locket or something is the entanglement… then it needs blood too.” She answered. “I hope it doesn’t need much.”

Carrie stared at her, horrified.

“I need to go home, and get prepared. Maybe the Knight is still there.”

She got up, and walked in the direction of her home. Carrie, sighing, followed.

Paul and Billy raced back along the road.

“What if that guy was killed?” Paul asked. “Then we’d be running straight towards the Knight!”

“He seemed to know what he was doing!” was Billy’s answer.

They arrived at the point where they last saw them both. Neither was there.

“Blood…” Billy said, looking at the ground. “Does the Knight bleed?”

“Of course it does, or it would be dead,” Paul answered.

“I dunno… nothing would surprise me anymore…”

There was shuffling from the side of the road among bushes. Billy picked up as stone, and Paul picked up a thick twig from the ground.

“Put them down you fools,” a voice said. “I’m not the Knight!”

A man with long, scruffy brown hair, and was covered in cuts, many that were new, stepped out. Neither of them dropped their weapons.

“Who are you?” Paul demanded.

“Can you really describe a person?” He spoke with a slight foreign accent, though they couldn’t tell where from. Paul stared at him.

“Your name then.”

“Hm, they call me Anonni Strèkalinski.”

Billy dropped his stone.

“Put down the stick Paul, he seems friendly. He just saved us after all.”

“It makes no difference to me, if you attack me I can kill you easily enough,” Anonni said. Billy noticed a sheath attached to his belt.

Paul, reluctantly, dropped it.

“You seem to have all the answers,” Paul said to him. “So answer me this, who is the Knight and what does he have to do with the locket?”

Anonni looked around.

“There’s a better place. Follow me”

He walked through the bushes into the forest. Billy followed him.

“Billy!” Paul cried. “I… ugh…” he followed also.

Carrie and Rebecca walked to Rebecca’s house.

“Rebecca, think about this!” Carrie said, almost begging. “The Knight could kill us! There must be other options!”

“None that would work…” she replied. “I’d rather I could just run away too, but I can’t. If this will work, then it could save a lot of people. Nobody else is going to die because of me.”

“Else?”

Rebecca said nothing. Nobody had actually died because of her - unless you counted her Aunt Joice - … yet…

They reached Rebecca’s house. There were police outside.

“Oh my God… Billy must have told them!” Rebecca assumed. She ran up to the house and stormed in the half broken down door. There was tape everywhere. An officer stepped and stopped her.

“Hey, no, where exactly do you think you’re going?” he said, pushing her out.

“This is my house!” Rebecca cried.

“…Oh.”

“…Oh?”

“Are you Rebecca Jackson?” he asked her. There wasn’t the slightest trace of joy on his face.

“Yes… what’s wrong?”

“I… I’m sorry you had to find out like…” he mumbled, his face becoming more distraught by the second. “Your Mum is dead.”

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