Part V: Into Darkness

Life in the riches can be cruel, but life on the streets will be your undoing.

THE WICKEDLY

By

Louis M. Warde

Part V: Into Darkness

         Victor sat by the window, staring down at the streets below. He had done little more than this in the past five weeks. Only staring. Others may think he was lost in his mind, desperate to see something just was not there, but Victor knew that what he searched for would reveal itself. Unlike most, he wasn't searching for a person, merely a catalyst; something that would start him down the right road to recovery.

         For weeks now he'd felt the gnawing, chewing feeling of something in him trying to find a way to the surface. As much as he wanted to see it's gentle and tender exposure, it just could come out. He needed to find something, or some-one that would spark the flame within him. So he stayed in his apartment, doing little else than looking. At times he felt bad for the girl at the cake shop, she seemed nice enough, but the job was only a front so that he could get a place to live. He had no intentions of actually working a commoners occupation. He wrapped his arms around his chest feeling a chill sweep through the room.

         “Rive, you silly child. I need to complete my memories, and somehow I just know that you are the catalyst, you are what will start this whole thing. Like this very moment you are hard at work helping me in a way only you could. These people know me so well, they know my face, but you they do not. You are no more than a strange and wealthy young boy curious about what ever happened that night at the theater. I need you at my side, Rive. At least for a little while longer.” Victor spoke through the glass to the boy. Confessing his intentions to the pane between them.

         Victor shivered.

        “My, how on Earth did it get so cold in here?” He said, a strange sound creeping in his ears. He noticed on the corners of the glass that frost had begun to build.

         A laugh echoed in the room, not like that of a child, but a grown mans laugh. The sound chilled him just as much as the air. It was a careless, dark laugh. Victor spun around, quickly rising from his seat. His breath caught in his lungs as he did so.

         He saw an empty street in the dead of winter. Ice and snow clung to every surface. Dim light from the lanterns cast sly shadows on the ground and buildings. Each time the wind gusted, the shadows seemed to moved along the snow, inching toward him. Again he hears the laugh. This time more distant, but still echoing off the walls, pounding into the gentleman's ears.

        “It's...cold” A voice whispered into his ear, it seemed from only inches away.

         “So cold.” It was a weak and fragile whisper.

         His ears twitched, though the whisper was close to him, he could hear a shuffling down the street, in the spaces between the glow of the lamps, as if to stay intentionally in the dark. Faint and indistinguishable at first, it drew closer revealing a sound like some heavy object being drug along the cobbles.

         “Make sure you get 'em good!” A phantom voice called out.

         “Yeah, it's time the goody two shoes got what was coming to him!” Cried another.  Victors hair felt as though it stood on end. His body chilled in a way that no cold could ever manage, no frost could ever touch. Something evil lurked in the darkness. He began to back away, his muscles aching with fright. Louder, an evil laugh rang in his ears sharply enough that he reflexively covered them tightly with his hands. Victor's muscles froze as he was suddenly knocked to the ground.

        Laughs and kicks came at him from all sides. He felt the toes of boots burying themselves in his ribs, arms and head. Excruciating pain filled his body. He wished to cry out, but his terror was so extreme that his vocal chords were no less than petrified. Tears leaked from his eyes as the pain grew deeper. Ribs snapping as he received more powerful blows. Then, just as suddenly as they came, the laughter and the beating was gone. He lay there in the snow, cold and alone. His pain was so great that he feared he might die right there. Blood seeped from his mouth and wounds filling the air with a dark and unclean scent.

         Strangely, as he lay still, the snow stinging his cheeks, pain melting away slowly from him. No more blood drained. He felt well. A premonition? Thought the young man. But before the thought could draw a complete conclusion, he heard something else.

         He heard a sad, pathetic whimper, of a person much like he was only seconds prior. It was distant, and very faint, but he could hear it none-the-less. Testing his body, Victor arose. To his surprise, no pain shot through him, no broken bones crippled him. It was as if his beating had never taken place. His curiosity and compassion drove him forward in search of the source of the sobbing.

         Following the sound of the whimpers, he could hear cries of pain. Into the shadows he moved carefully, trying his best to brave his fears of the unknown. In the dark, it seemed as though the world was peeled away into nothing more than a great emptiness devoid of any trace of sentience.

         He could see it by the glow, huddled in the corner of a building, next to the steps. The silhouette of a meager frame. Tattered cloths lay strewn on the sidewalk, covered in blood. Victor heard the being's labored breathing and fading sobs of such immense pain that no comparison existed.

         “please, h-help me.” The silhouette begged softly through an utterly defeated tone.

         Victor hesitated.

         “P-please, sir. H-help m--” The figure jolted and shifted as it coughed. A wet cough followed by gurgles and sounds of choking. It was clear to Victor that this poor soul had suffered much more than he had thought. He had to do something, but he had little idea as to what.

         Crouching down, he gently felt the figure. Small gasps of pain told him where the beings face was as he patted lightly on what appeared to be its chest.

         “I've got you,” he said, “we'll find you some help.”

         “I”m alone... No-one to--”

         “Hush now, save your words. I'll take you to the hospital, you'll make it through this.” Victor attempted to reassure the voice, though had no idea how severe the wounds could be. He heard the body whimper once more, and then it was gone. No blood or tattered cloths were left behind. Victor was alone in the streets.

         Moving into the light, he stood for what felt like several minutes. He had no grasp of the situation, and was more confused than ever. He searched his mind for a way back to his cozy apartment room.

         “Victory.” Called a voice from all around him. Not like the others, but far more eerie. It called to him as if he and it were in the middle of a game of hide and seek.

         Frustrated, Victor could take little more. His fear had welled up inside him so great that he thought he might burst.

“That's enough. Quit playing tricks with my mind!” The gentleman shouted into the cold, dark night.

         “Vi-ctor” it called again.

         Again Victor's nerves began to fray.

         “Listen, whoever you ar--”

         “VICTOR!” It cried loudly. An image of a being no more than two feet from him flashed before his eyes. So surprised was he that he fell back once more, landing flatly on his rump.

         “Victor, lemme in! Why's the door locked?” Called a young voice.

         Victor looked around warily. He was back in the apartment. The warm air swirling around him.

         His mouth hung slightly agape for a moment. Rive continued pounding on the door for his friend to let him in.

         At last Victor said only one single phrase.

         “I remember.”

If you liked this writing, please look for the next installment on August 11th, 2013