Tarrow

A Story by Anor

A horror story based on a particularly vivid nightmare I had.

Victor Salve had always had a slight leaning towards the twisted, darker side of life. He understood that chaos and destruction were the true essence of life, and embraced this. For this, and a multitude of other reasons, he was shunned by the global community at large. People, upon meeting him, would almost instinctively dislike him. It would be a typical case of an average person detesting a genius. People simply couldn’t bear to see someone better than them.

His whole life was now wrapped around one idea: To make contact with Tarrow. Not that he would ever tell anybody. They would accuse him of being a fool, a madman. Why would anyone ever choose to believe that Tarrow was real? They would tell him to stop reading his dark, depressing books, and move on to become more involved in the positive side of life.

But Victor knew. She was real. She was a demon. And She had been watching him. From a very young age, little Victor had a nagging feeling, a constant suspicion, that he was being watched. He had initially ignored it, but as time passed, it grew. It had put a constant darkness on him, and had isolated him from his fellow beings. What was it? That question had bothered him for what had seemed like eternity, when, one day, the answer came.

Victor had given in. Life was nothing more than hell on earth. What was it that the priests were always preaching about? A place called Heaven? He laughed to himself at the absurdity of the thought of a monster like him ever being permitted entry.

He reached a trembling hand out towards his purchase. Opium. Victor was ready to throw away any hope he had of living a better life for a few moments of happiness with some magic powder. Even he could see it. But he could not stop it. Nobody could, now. He clasped the packet forcefully, and brought it to his face. But then he became aware. It was there. It was watching him. Except it was closer than it had ever been to him, now. He could sense, somehow, that the presence was female. He couldn’t see it, or smell it, or hear it, only feel it. And it was rejoicing. Rejoicing with a vitality that struck icy daggers into Victor’s heart. And suddenly, he knew what She was called. Her name was Tarrow, of this he was certain. As to what she was? Victor was no clearer. But he knew now that under no circumstances would he do what She wanted him to. And in the cusps of determination, he threw away the opium, letting the little packet roll down the alley. Almost at once, an aura of rage emanated from Her. She had been so close!

The experience had haunted Victor for ages, up to the point where he had now finally made it possible to make contact with Her again. He had practiced the art of lucid dreaming for ages, and was ready to enter his own mind to see what entity had been stalking his life for so long.

It was late night when Victor walked into the room he had had prepared. It was completely blank, with white walls, a white floor, a white ceiling, and even white door. Inside it, one couldn’t even be sure that they were still in a house. The room was singularly designed to give the impression of a lack of reality.

Victor went to the centre of the room, and sat down in a cross legged pose. It was time to begin. He had brought a candlestand with him, and set it up in front of him. He lit the candles, and the sweet smell of incense wafted through the room. Victor looked around the room once, then shut his eyes, and presently began to take deep breaths. He was meditating, allowing his mind to relax and wander, to find what it was that had plagued him.

He became aware of a disconcerting feeling, as though somebody else was in the room with him. He had had the impression of being watched before, but this was on a new scale altogether. He opened his eyes with all the force he could muster, and at the moment of impact he looked straight ahead.

He could see an old fireplace, and next to it an old wooden rocking chair. As his eyes travelled up the base of the chair he saw-

White. All white. He had glimpsed something else, but it was back to what it had been. There was something different though. A barrier had been crossed. He was aware now that it could happen agai-

-he saw an ancient being, a woman, rotting and sagging on the chair. She leered at him through sunken eyes, and he was aware of Her power, Her potential-

-it was vivid, inexplicable. The flashes kept coming and breaking off as Victor tried to decipher them. He realized, with a growing horror, that he had just seen the face of Tarro-

-Her immense will to destroy all. And she could. The power She wielded was unimaginable. And the frail

body masked the burning desire to destroy the worl-

He had glimpsed Her power. She wanted to destroy everything. But why hadn’t She? If the immense power She held was any indicator the world should have been finished a long while ago. What was it that kept her from completing her objective?

Victor began to see flashes upon flashes. A reel seemed to be running in front of him, with millions and millions of incomprehensibly small windows. And in each window, he realized, was a picture! A picture from his life, a memory!

His fourteenth birthday The day his uncle had passed away

The day he had first gone to school

The day his mother had died The day he had graduated

In each picture, he noted, there was something similar, besides him. Some-

Victor began to feel a pain in his head, and stood up, clasping it in his hands and ducking down-

-something familiar. And then, with shock, he realized what it was. She had been watching him. She had been following him in this realm of hers. In Her own room. For all his long, pitiful, life. But why?

The pain shrieked in his head as it escalated. It felt as though an angry madman was stabbing him, again, and again, and again. He wanted nothing more than for it to stop, for sweet release from the agony. He ran to the wall and bashed his head against it constantly, trying to soothe the burning agony.

The reel disappeared, and he looked directly into Her eyes. She gave him a sunken grin, then, in front of his very eyes, changed. She was all at once blessed with the graceful beauty of youth, and Her appearance changed to see fit. She ecstatically threw Her pale hands to the sky in joy, and then She moved.

She leapt from her chair into the air, and pounced at Victor, trying to hurt him, to kill him-

He was doing his best, but She was winning. The pain in his head grew and grew until it felt as though the whole world was burning in it.

He flailed wildly and in vain tried to ward Her off. She was gouging thousands of cuts in him with Her swaying hands, tearing him to shreds before his very eyes.

HE UNDERSTOOD! If he died now, then Tarrow would be free. She would be released from this dimension, this alternate room in which She was bound, and would be free to wreak Her havoc. With this in mind, Victor turned around, and ran to the opposite wall. He flailed around in vain for the door, trying to seek escape from what had once been his haven.

She bit him, slashed him, hurt him-

WHERE WAS IT!? His hands fumbled over something, could it be the knob?-

She gouged out his eyes, and his vision was lost to him, and he only heard. And what he heard terrified him.

The pain reached heights he had not thought possible, and he was momentarily incapacitated. But he struggled onwards, and wrenched open the door.

“NO!”, She screamed. He had the impression of her looking at him with hatred, and felt the hands she slashed him with turn into masses of wrinkles. He heard her flee and return to where she had once been.

As Victor shut the door, he could swear that he heard the sound of a rocking chair.