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Post by Isadora Is a Door on Dec 10, 2021 11:50:13 GMT -5
6 - The Watcher
His house was cold, the frost forming over the glass of the window. He sat there, staring out into the harsh and bright light of the morning. The darkness was taking longer to depart each day, and the world around him was becoming passive to its pervasion.
His house was larger than the others on Irving Close. Many decades ago his ancestor had the privilege of being butler to the Feint family, and as reward for his service was bestowed the slightly larger and more comfortable of the meagre dwellings that cusped the Feint house. It was small recompense for what that family had inflicted upon them, but it had its advantages. The main advantage, to Robert's mind, was the window in his bedroom.
The houses along Irving close were nestled up to one another in a line, like soldiers awaiting orders. All, that is, but Roberts. His was turned at a slight angle, inclining itself inwards to face the rest of the street. It was the furthest away from the Feint House, but the perspective meant that he had the best view - of it, and the street around it. The window was a large, solid thing, floor to ceiling, and Robert had positioned a chair in front of it from which he could sit and watch.
And so he watched.
He could see her now, strutting about with an unearned air of authority. She was talking to Mrs. Vance at the moment, an interrogation of the innocent. She was only making things worse. Stil, Robert knew he wasn't doing any better. All he was doing was sitting there, watching.
Robert had found that these days he didn't do much else besides sitting and watching, for there was not much else to do. He spent most of his time sat there, staring out at the street, observing everything that was happening. Not that there was ever much happening on Irving Close. The comings and goings had slowly dwindled away, and after the disappearance of the Feint family the flicker of activity had almost diminished entirely. But still he watched.
He thought, though. As he looked across the houses and the people, his eyes would drink in their history and their stories. There was much history here, so much to remember. Robert knew it all and he remembered it all. Some of them, they seemed almost content to forget the past, the crimes that had happened upon them. But not Robert. He would never forget.
That was why, when he had heard those screams a few nights ago, he had been prepared. Everyone else had moved on, but he hadn't. He had been readying himself for this all his life, or moments like these at least.
He had alerted the other residents to the sounds - alerted, of course, not being the right word. They could hear them, anybody could hear them. What he had done was make them listen to them, to stop ignoring him, and to do something about it.
And look where that had got him. He had awoken, along with everybody else, near the lake by Goshawk Woods, with no memory of what happened or how they had got there. Robert found this most disconcerting. He was someone who prided himself on his memory and history, of not forgetting that which had gone before, but he had forgotten everything that had happened to him that night. It was distressing and destabilising, and he didn't like it. How could he prevent it from happening again if he could not learn from his past mistakes?
And then there was her. She had finished talking to Mrs. Vance and was now knocking on the door of number six. What did she think she was doing??
No, she thinks she knows whats shes doing, but she doesn't understand. Sitting here, now, Robert understood more about what was going on than she ever could. There was nothing he could do to change that, nothing. So, he realised, he would have to stop it instead.
He rose from his chair, which was beginning to turn into a more regular habit for him then he would have liked, and headed downstairs. He went out through the back door, and crept through the garden and through a side passage to the front of the house. Tentatively, he peered round the corner, and he could see that she was now talking to the Browns. He waited, and watched. He was good at that. And he knew that he wouldn't be seen here. He'd had many years to practice being hidden.
After a few minutes, she turned and walked back up the garden path. She turned for a moment, and looked in the direction of Robert's house, but he knew she wouldn't dare come this way. He'd made his opinions to her quite clear on the day that she had first appeared. She turned and headed back up the road toward the Feint house, and, waiting a few moments, Robert followed.
He moved silently, almost out of habit. He was used to this quiet world of his, and he hated to disturb the silence around him, and so over the years he had developed the skill of moving without barely making a single sound. It was useful to him, especially at moments like this, and so he followed her silently and discreetly. He could only see her in the distance, but the sound of very heavy boots was echoing back towards him.
She headed up past the Feint house, and Robert noticed that she barely gave it a second glance, before turning and heading out in the direction of Coopers field. That had been where one of the police officers had reappeared, and where one of them had been found, dead. That wasn't the connection though, the connection was that they had both been inside the house. That was there own fault. They shouldn't have disturbed things.
He followed her for a while longer, as she continued to walk through the myriad of lanes that adorned the countryside. He stayed a good distance away from her, but gradually he was getting closer and closer. As he neared her, Robert could see her short, dark hair. She was wearing a long grey woolen coat, which went down past her knees and he focused on it as they neared Coopers Field.
A car - one that Robert recognised as hers - was parked to the side of the Lane, and he heard a distinct click as the doors were unlocked. There was a small coppice between the lane and the field, and DCI Glasipe turned and looked in its direction. A second later she headed into the trees. Robert held back for a moment, moving to cover himself behind a tree. Through the bracken, he saw her wandering through the trees. She paused and knelt down to pick something up from the ground. From this distance and vantage point Robert couldn't be sure what it was, but he could guess. This did not make things better.
A moment later, and she headed back towards her car. Robert remained where he was stood, behind the tree, and watched as she got in and drove away. Now was not the time; he had to be certain, and he had to be sure. He didn't know enough yet, and if his knowledge had taught him anything, it was to be patient. He would keep watching her, and learn all he could, and only then would he act. He had no choice.
He had to stop her.
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Post by Isadora Is a Door on Dec 23, 2021 16:52:56 GMT -5
7 - The Lake
Jack could see her across the lake, though the mist meant he was not sure how long she had been there. He could see her dark hair, standing out from the whiteness around her. It was long and beautiful, perhaps the darkest thing he had ever seen. It contrasted strongly with the whiteness around her - the mist, her pale skin, and the long white dress. She had sat down by the edge of the lake, just as she always did, and she was waiting.
Jack had been expecting her for a while, but he had missed the moment when she arrived. The woods were full of distractions, and the mist cast a new light to everything. Nothing was as it had seemed before, and Jack had lost his concentration, his mind drifting from waiting, but now she was there.
Her smile was a question, and he didn't know the answer. He had spent all his life being warned by his father about The Feints, not to trust them, to never go near that house, yet he found himself inexorably drawn towards her.
He had first noticed her several weeks ago. He had been walking through the woods when he had come upon her unexpectedly. She had been sat, as she was now, staring deeply into the depths of the lake. Jack had been surprised - hardly anyone ever came out to these parts of the woods. He didn't recognise her as a Feint, not at first, and anyway, none of the family had been seen in this town for years.
Nobody else in Irving Close knew that the Feints were back. If they had, there would have been trouble. The residents had a history with the Feints, and nobody wanted to dredge up these old memories and disturb the past, so Jack had kept what he'd seen to himself for now. But he had come back every day since, and so had she. She had done nothing but watch the depths of the lake, and he had done nothing but watch her.
Jack didn't know if she could see him, if she knew he was watching her day after day. If she did, she had done nothing to prevent him, and had not changed her behaviours. He didn't know why she came her every day and stared out into the lake, and he didn't know why he came every day to watch her. He could guess, though.
The history of the Feint family had become wreathed in legend and myth, but one thing was clear and consistent; the lake was bad news. There were numerous stories of people disappearing or drowning in its waters, of strange shapes being seen within its depths, and even more disturbing tales of creatures rising from the deep and claiming the lives of the unsuspecting townsfolk. Jack knew that most of these tales were simply the work of superstitious gossip, but nevertheless there was no smoke without fire. And Miss. Feints preoccupation with its dark waters did nothing to dissuade him of this.
The fog was making this difficult today. and it was hard for Jack to make out exactly what was going on. All around him was white, the trees coated with a film of frost, and so the only things he had to focus on where her black hair and dark green eyes. She leaned forwards, her eyes disappearing from view as she bent her head down, and her hand skimmed the water. Jack could hear the sound of the ripples splashing across the surface.
But then he heard something else, another sound behind him. It was a voice, almost out of earshot. Cold, piercing, like someone scraping metal against metal. He turned to look behind him, but could see nothing through the mist.
There was a large splashing sound, like something falling into the water, coming from across the lake, just where the woman had been. The splashing continued, and then a scream. The fog seemed to suddenly be growing thicker, all around him, and he couldn't see anything that was going on. He could still hear the splashing, another scream. Jack stood frozen, not knowing what to do. And then there was a rushing sound, like something being pulled out of a vacuum, and suddenly everything fell silent.
He still couldn't see, but he guess. Something had taken her into the water.
Without thinking he knew what to do. He pulled of his shirt and dived into the water after her.
It felt like he was drowning. The force of the water breaking around him felt like a sheet of ice, and at first he could sense nothing but the numbing pain that draped over him. Then a sound began to fill his ears, a vibrating buzzing sound, like a horde of angry bees. He turned in its direction, and then he saw her. She was not too far from him, and she was struggling with....
It looked like some kind of beast. There was a large black mass, dark as pitch, darker even than Miss. Feints hair. He couldn't tell what it was, or how it even existed, but Jack could see long tendrils reaching out, grabbing at the woman, snaking round her limbs, ripping at her, forcing her closer and closer to its centre.
The cold of the water made his body resist at first, but Jack forced himself towards her. The vibrating sound increased, and Jack realised it was coming from the creature itself. It seemed angry that Jack was there, as though he were intruding on something private. Miss. Feint looked scared, her mouth open in terror, her arms and legs flailing in the water as the creature tried to pull itself away from Jack. He swam over to her and put his arms around her waist and pulled. At his touch she seemed to grow stronger, and she began to kick too, and with a quick tug he had pulled her free of the creatures grasp.
A moment later, they both erupted to the surface of the lake, and Jack pulled her towards the waters edge.
'Are you okay?' he asked her, his teeth beginning to chatter in the cold.
'I thought...I - I can't let -' she said, tears falling from her eyes. Jack's arms were still around her, her body shaking against his.
'You're fine' said Jack, though he didn't believe it himself. He stood up, and tried to pull her with him, but she seemed too weak to stand. 'Nothing's going to happen.'
She let out a small laugh. 'Of course it is. It's going to get me eventually, just like it got my mother.'
'What's going to get you?' Jack asked, but as the words left his lips he realised he knew the answer
--??--
They had gone back to the Feint house, Jack and Ellington - for Ellington had told him her name. Jack had never thought he would step foot inside this place, let alone inside one of the bedrooms. Ellington said it was the only room that she felt safe in, as she had slept there when she was a little girl. The rest of the house had remained undisturbed since her return, and she intended to leave it as such for the foreseeable.
The room didn't seem like the kind of place a little girl would sleep. It was large and empty, with damp creeping up the walls. A set of large windows were shuttered to the day, making it dark and shadowy. Ellington had stripped off her dress and was resting under a pile of blankets on a large ornate bed. Her previously pale face was growing redder as she warmed herself up. Jack had wrapped himself in a bathrobe and was tending to the small fireplace adjacent to the bed. Occasionally he would glance over to her, wanting to ask more questions, but unsure if she would answer. Eventually Ellington was the first to break the silence.
'Thank you for rescuing me.' she said, her face half hidden from the pile of blankets
'It's no problem.' said Jack, shrugging nonchalantly. 'I didn't really know what I was doing.'
'It was good enough.' She smiled at him again, a smile that could have meant anything.
'What was that creature?' Jack asked, his eyes deliberately avoiding hers.
'If it has a name that you would understand then I don't know was it is. It's the last of a species that is almost extinct, though i have encountered others similar to its nature.'
'What's it doing there, in the lake? I mean...' Jack was searching for the words. 'What does it want?'
'What any creature wants. To live, to survive, to eat. Mostly it wants to be left alone.'
'You weren't leaving it alone.' said Jack
Ellington brushed her long hair behind her ear, and smiled at him once again. 'No, I wasn't. But I had my reasons.'
'I don't understand how it got there.'
'My father cultivated it.' Ellington's eyes looked downcast. 'He's always had a preconception with nature, particularly in those species that the rest of humanity have forgotten. He will go to any lengths possible to preserve nature, even turning against his own kind.'
Jack could still see the creature in his mind's eye, its tendrils reaching out to Ellington, grabbing her, pulling it towards her, almost like...
'It looked like it was trying to eat you.'
'It was.'
The thought hung between them for a moment
'Is that what your father would have wanted.'
Ellington sighed. 'I except so.' She looked mournfully into the fire. 'Imagine that you yourself are building the edifice of human destiny with the object of making people happy, of giving them peace and rest at last, but for that you must inevitably and unavoidably torture just one tiny creature and raise your edifice on the foundation of her unrequited tears. would you agree to be the architect on such conditions?'
Jack looked at Ellington, and saw that tears were falling down her face. He walked over and sat down next to her, and she began to cry softly into his shoulder. The blankets fell forgotten to her waist, and Jack tried with all his gentlemanly restraint to not focus on her breasts. He reached out an arm awkwardly round her back, and he could feel the warmth of her skin against him.
'He gave my mother to the beast.' said Ellington, the words tumbling out quickly, like a secret she had never confessed. 'He gave her to it, it took her, and now it's trying to take me.'
'What do you mean he gave her to the beast?'
'He gave her Emmeline - my mother, her name was Emmeline - as a sacrifice.' Ellington said, looking up at him serenely. 'There is nothing my father wouldn't do to further his beliefs.'
Jack didn't know what to say to that, so he moved on. 'If you thought that thing was going to.... 'take' you, then why did you keep going back there?'
'Because...' Ellington's voice trailed off for a moment, and then she spoke very quickly again. 'Because I thought it might be able to give her back. My fathers gone now, so I have nothing left in the whole world except myself and this house. I know it sound stupid, but just because it took her doesn't mean it can't give her back, maybe, somehow.'
She looked up at him with those piercing green eyes, and he could see the doubt in her, in what she was telling him. But Jack knew. When he had looked at that beast he had seen it too. Whatever it was, it was something far beyond death, something much more, and he knew what it meant.
'I understand' Jack told her, and that was enough. 'So that was why you went there every day?'
'Yes'
'And you saw me every day, didn't you?'
'Yes'
'Why didn't you say anything? Did it not creep you'
'No, it didn't.' she said, smiling again now. 'I didn't say anything because I thought it might be good. For someone who knew that I was there, just in case.'
'In case you needed rescuing?' Jack smiled back at her
'Exactly. Good job too.'
'Not a problem.'
Ellington's face became more serious again, and she stared deep into him. 'Thank you.' she said, and then her lips were on his. They were dry from the cold, but still soft, and he could feel the heat of her breath enter his mouth. She pulled herself closer towards him, and Jack lifted his hand up into her thick black hair. It felt like he was drowning.
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Post by Isadora Is a Door on Jan 10, 2022 12:35:04 GMT -5
Oops
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Post by R. on Jan 10, 2022 13:09:03 GMT -5
What do you mean by oops?
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Post by Isadora Is a Door on Jan 10, 2022 14:04:16 GMT -5
Accidentally posted the wrong thing. I could have just deleted the thread but thought this was more entertaining.
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Post by Isadora Is a Door on Jan 11, 2022 11:00:33 GMT -5
8 - The Past
Erin leafed through the pages again, too quick to take in the images and words. She wasn't looking, her eyes unfocussed, she was simply checking that it was all there. Some of it was, but not all, of course. It was like putting together a jigsaw, only with a thousand different pieces, none of which seem to fit, and with no idea what the image would look like at the end. But perhaps that was better. Given how disturbing and unsettling each piece had been, she felt that perhaps the puzzle should never be completed.
Erin stretched her arms out, the back of the chair creaking against her. She could feel a kink in her back from where she had hunched over her work, and she wriggled from side to side, trying to shake it. The room had grown dark, and she noticed how the air was now hanging heavily around her. Hours had passed while the past had taken her.
The Feints had left a huge number of pieces, and slotting them all together had proven as time consuming at it had been disturbing. They say you shouldn't take your work home with you, especially with this kind of job, but Erin had always found that impossible. Stuff like this, it hung in the air like smoke. Breathe in too much and it would corrupt you, eat away at your bones until you rot.
There was a knock at the door, complimentary, and then the door was opened in an eager rush. Kate glanced at Erin, the trace of a smile instead of hello, and pulled up a chair to sit next to her in the darkness.
'So what have you got for me?' said Kate, and she reached for the pile of papers that Erin had assembled on the table. Erin pulled it towards her, almost protective, before turning to the adequate page. She laid on to the table a hand-drawn and faded family tree.
'The Feint family history is long, complicated and fascinating.' said Erin. 'The problem is that so much of it is clouded by myth and legend. I could talk to you for hours about what I've worked out to be true, and for days about what is nothing more than a fabrication.'
'We don't have days, Erin.' said Kate, staring fiercely with those brown eyes of hers. 'An officer has died, and potentially much worse else that we don't even know about yet. Cut the flab.'
Erin sighed, and turned a few pages over in the document that she had prepared.
'So, Armstrong Feint. He inherited the house when his parents died in mysterious circumstances. They were poisoned, while out an associates house for breakfast. Armstrong didn't seem to mind too much. According to the residents of Irving Close he and his parents didn't see eye to eye. There were many disputes - regular, and increasingly so before their unfortunate death.'
'Do you think he could have been involved?' asked Kate
'Well, the police investigated, and found no connection between the deaths and Armstrong. The investigation held things up for many years though, and Armstrong wasn't entitled to his full inheritance until after the case was closed. He held a distrust and, dare I say, contempt for the constabulary from that point onwards.
'When he did move in to the house, it was with his wife Emmeline and their daughter, Ellington.' Erin turned another page in the folder, and produced a photograph of the three of them. It was posed, standing in an ornate doorway of what seemed like a small chapel. Armstrong was dressed in a black suit, his hair short and close cropped, with a pencil moustache and eyes that betrayed nothing. Emmeline was beautiful, with full features and long dark hair, black as night. Their daughter could only have been 5 or 6 years old, the spit of her mother, that hair with the same depth of black. The expressions of their faces displayed mild amusement.
'What happened to them?' asked Kate
'The mother drowned, in the lake on the other side of Goshawk woods.'
'How did it happen?'
Erin shrugged. 'The official reports say 'Boating accident'. The residents claim a monster took her into the depths of the lake. No official decisions has ever been made, but if you ask me it was murder.'
Kate shot her eyes at Erin once more. 'I didn't ask you though, Erin. Don't bring your judgement into this, all I want is the facts.'
Erin did her best to submerge the sigh that was rising inside her. It was hard to be subjective, given the overwhelming heft of tales and fictions that surrounded this family. She had to sift through everything that was said to have happened, could have happened, might have happened, and create some form of narrative.
'Anyway' she said, continuing on. 'After Emmeline's death Armstrong and Ellington moved away, to a place called Killdeer Fields, and all this only a year after Armstrong had taken ownership.'
'And then?'
'Nothing. At least, there was nothing for ten years. The town of Killdeer Fields was flooded, and then soon after that Ellington came back.'
'What about Armstrong?'
Erin shook her head. 'I'm not sure. There was never any confirmation of his absence or return. Some people claimed he was dead, others that he was in hiding, someplace else. Ellington said nothing, but she took up residence in the house. That was until history repeated herself. She drowned, in the same lake as her mother.'
Kate ran her finger through her hair, as if to buy time to process what she had heard and craft a response. 'And was that another boating accident?'
'No, I think not. Also, the post mortem made some... interesting discoveries. Some that are consistent with our more recent findings.' Erin handed Kate the morticians notes, years old but full of importance in present, and waited for Kate to reach the conclusion.
'The eyes.' said Kate.
'Yes.' said Erin. 'They had been removed, in exactly the same way as what happened to Dan-, Detective Summers. And this isn't the only instance, there are many more cases consistent with this type of murder, dating back years, decades, even centuries.'
'Right then.' said Kate, swallowing. 'Well, there's only one explanation I can see.'
'Ghosts?' said Erin, only half joking.
'I think we have a clear case of a copycat killer.' said Kate 'These killings are the subject of idle gossip around the town, so they are hardly unknown. Only now someone has taken things to the extreme. So we need to be looking for someone who knows the history of this place, someone who has been watching -'
Kate interrupted by another knock at the door, softer than her own, and much more polite.
'Come in' said Kate, ignoring the fact that this office wasn't hers to open to all and sundry.
It was Jenkins. He opened the door, and seeing the darkness instantly reached for the light switch. As light flooded over them, he seemed to recoil from it, his neck twisting slightly, almost like a reflex.
'How can I help you Jenkins?' Asked Kate, her eyes only giving him the merest of glances. Jenkins hesitated on the threshold, almost uncertain about whether or not to cross.
'I wanted to give you something, Glasipe. I... I wasn't sure if I should, but I've decided that I trust you, and so...' Jenkins looked at Kate earnestly, and then he sighed, and reached into his pocket, and handed whatever it was to Kate.
It was a piece of paper, faded and yellowed, and it looked almost like it should belong in Erin's file already. Kate unfolded it, gave the merest of glances at its contents, before saying. 'Where did you get this.'
'I found it, when I was in the house.'
'Thank you Jenkins' said Kate, smiling at him. 'You can leave.'
Jenkins gave a slight nod, and pulled the door shut as eagerly as he could. Kate turned to the paper, a feverish excitement spreading across her face, her finger moving slightly around its edges.
'What does it say?' asked Erin, as Kate was keeping the paper close to her, protecting it from view.
Kate read "Herein contains notes from the twenty-second meeting of the Inhumane Society." These words sent Erin's mind exploding, a rush of different thoughts crashing together in her head. She stood from the chair and moved over to the filing cabinet. Kate paused in her reading, an eyebrow raised as she watched Erin. She searched, the hinges creaking as she reached deep inside and took out a folder.
'This is them.' said Erin. 'The Inhumane Society. Everything that we have on them, at least.'
Erin had come across the Inhumane Society many times whilst she had been searching through the piles of information and evidence gathered over the years, and of all the myths, legends, and urban tales spun this was the one she had dreaded them finding any truth to.
'What is it?' asked Kate, a smile on her face almost like triumph. 'Who are they?'
They were now sat opposite each other, Kate holding the page, and Erin her file. It wasn't large, it was if anything small. But she could the weight of the potential consequence inside, and she was hesitant to open it and share what she had found. She placed it into her lap for now, one hand clasped tight around its edges, and only then did she feel safe to reply.
'The Society are a group of like-minded individuals who aim to find the scientific truth behind everything. They originated with Volunteer Fire Department, but they split away from them and became something different. They didn't care for knowledge, only truth, and would stop at nothing to get it. This folder is full of stories, some with mountains of evidence to back them up, some with none at all, but all of them -' Erin sighed, almost losing her composure. 'The society believed that humankind had failed, that it did not deserve to continue, that human life was worthless. They believed that the only thing to do, the right thing to do, was exploit that failure in order to find a solution.'
'What do you mean?' asked Kate
'What I mean is experimentation and manipulation, like I have never seen. If even half of the stories in this file are true, then we are talking about human experimentation on a scale that we have never encountered before.'
'...Okay.' said Kate, and she waved her hand in the direction of the file. 'Let me see it.'
Erin shook her head, almost mockingly, and raised an eyebrow at her. 'I thought you said you wanted facts, not fiction?'
Kate smiled back at her. 'Fair enough. We do have this, however,' and she indicated towards the page Jenkins had given her, and began to read again "Herein contains notes from the twenty-second meeting of the Inhumane Society. Minutes taken by Charles Summers."
'Summers?' said Erin, and she began to leaf through her file. 'As in -?'
'Daniels' father.' Kate frowned. 'Could be. I didn't know that he had any prior connection to the Feints.'
'Neither did I.' Erin found the page she was looking for, a page from a census dating several years back. 'He used to live in Irving Close, around the time of Ellington's return to the area. He vanishes from the records after this point', she said, flicking forward to double check.
'Did Daniel know about this?' said Kate, curiously. 'Maybe he knew about the connection and that's why he wanted to investigate? No, of course not, he didn't choose to be called out there... Maybe it was some kind of revenge killing? Something to do with the family connection?'
'Well, that's for you to tell me.' Erin turned back to her folder. 'What other names are on the list.'
'There's an "A. Widdershins".'
'Widdershins...' muttered Erin. She rose from her chair and began to look through the filing cabinet again. 'There's nothing related to him in my files on Irving Close or the Feints, but I've heard the name somewhere else before, I'm sure. Maybe it was....'
She found what she had been looking for, a forgotten file about a forgotten case from long ago. But Erin had remembered, and she was right. 'A Mr. Arnold Widdershins was interviewed several years before, as part of an investigation into a series of disappearances that took place near Briny Beach.'
'Was he charged with anything?'
Erin shook her head. 'He had a good alibi. He's a reputable businessman - he used to own a marine research centre by the coast, and he was a noted biologist. To be honest, it seems to me like he could easily have bought his way out of the situation.'
Kate nodded in agreement. 'What was the investigation? The one he was being investigated for?'
'He was linked to a series of disappearances in the area. Children. Young Children.'
'Right. Missing people there, in the past, and missing people here, now. There must be some connection' said Kate, sighing. 'Or maybe it's just coincidence.' She looked down at the list again 'The next name on here is an M. Montgomery.'
Erin nodded, not surprised at this one. 'Montgomery was a close associate of Armstrong Feint. He was a renowned herpetologist, and Feint funded a lot of his research and expeditions. Their families go way back as well.'
'Any allegations for him?'
'No, not that we know of at least.' Erin smiled awkwardly. 'Who else is on the list?'
Kate opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated for a moment, as though changing her mind about something. She gulped, before finally speaking; 'There's one more name on here. Armstrong Feint.'
'Whose reputation proceeds him.'
Kate continued to scan the page. 'In this meeting, the first thing that they talk about is the aquarium.'
'The Aquarium?'
'I assume this is the one you mentioned, owned by Widdershins?'
Erin shook her head. 'It can't be. The Aquarium was built after Armstrong disappeared. So that must mean...'
'Armstrong came back.' said Kate, bitterly. 'We need to work out what happened to him, and where is now. And -' she continued to read down the page; 'Look at this. The next thing they discuss is Ellington.' Kate thrusted the page under Erin's eyes, folded over so she could only see the bottom. 'They're saying that.... that she's escaped, that the experiment was a waste.'
'So you think that they were experimenting on her? His own daughter?'
'Maybe' said Kate, and she stood from the chair, hiding the paper in her pocket. 'I need to follow up some leads. You keep looking, see what you can find.'
'I need to see that paper.' said Erin.
'Excuse me?'
'If you want me to investigate, I need to examine it.'
Kate shook her head 'This is an important piece of evidence, I can't let you have it.'
Erin laughed. 'That's not standard procedure and you know it.'
'Detective Richards' said Kate, her voice sterner than before. 'I need to keep this paper, and you will not tell anyone about this, do you understand?'
Erin stared at Kate, those piercing brown eyes defiant, but with a hint of fear behind them. 'Fine.' said Erin, as calmly as she could.
'Thank you.' nodded Kate, and she turned to leave. Erin began to pull further files out of the cabinet, her head still swimming with information. She didn't notice at first when Kate had gone, but once she did she moved over and turned off the light, standing for a moment in the darkness.
She could feel it inside her, rotting away at her. What had she gotten herself into? What was Kate keeping from her? What had she seen on that page that was so important it must be kept secret? It was another piece of jigsaw that she needed to solve. Not that Erin didn't have her own secrets, of course. So did everyone, Erin didn't mind that. She just wondered what Kate would do when she found out about hers.
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Post by R. on Jan 11, 2022 11:55:56 GMT -5
This is spectacular! Is the boating accident a reference to the novel Rebecca?
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Post by Isadora Is a Door on Jan 11, 2022 15:31:27 GMT -5
No, the boating accident is a reference to boats.
More seriously, I feel like now should be the time to say that there will be 13 chapters in all, so only 5 to go.
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Post by Isadora Is a Door on Jan 14, 2022 10:16:04 GMT -5
9 - The Sound
Once upon a time, there was a faraway land. The land was very different from our own - the skies a shade of green, the lands endless fields of silver, and the seas of darkest crimson. How different the land, it made no matter, for the peoples of this land were just like you and me. They were farmers and carpenters, bakers and seamstresses, and most important of all there was the king.
Like the people of this land, the king and all his kind aged, and one day the king realised that he must now step from this land into the land of another. A land of eternal darkness and great unknown. He was not afraid of this journey, his mind well prepared for what he must endure, so he set his affairs in order, said his farewells, and set himself ready to depart.
Before his voyage could begin, the king called his son and heir to him, and told him this; 'Rule fairly, and honestly, and justly, and understand that all you see around you is your to command. But know that those who serve you will do better in this if they still believe they taste something of freedom.'
So then the king departed, and the darkness came up around him and took him deep into its grasp
The son became himself a king, but he did not learn from the words of his father. One day, he was sat alone in his tower, and he thought. The more he thought, the more he liked what he thought. So then the son decided that everyone should think like him, and they would be all the better for it.
And so the decree went out, far across the city. Every man and every woman, every son and every daughter, every farmer and carpenter and baker and seamstress would think like him, the thoughts would all be one, a harmony singing across the land. There were those who disagreed, who resisted the attenuation of their freedoms, but they disappeared in the night, their fleeting lives extinguished.
The animals were next, their caws and cries set to be attuned with the thoughts of the master. The animals were instructed to follow his commands - dogs should mew, horses should bark, sheep should say whatever was necessary, and those who would not comply were removed. Nobody could tell a cat what to do.
And so eventually all was tamed, and brought under control, and all the living things of the land were one. One thought, one mind, one harmony. Everything was as it should be.
That was, of course, excepting the music.
As much as he tried, the son could not contain the music. It wandered freely, bursts of pure sound and orchestration would echo around the land at intervals, teasing him, mocking him.
But then he found a way, a secret way. He took the music to paper, the ink casting it into a reality, and then it became his to control. Every last crotchet and minuet, each breve and innocent little semi-breve, they were his. He wrote them in to form, and then took them, and banished them from the realm.
Silence fell across the land.
At first it was just the music that was gone, but then laughter soon followed, and then eventually the words and voices of all the people in the land began to fade as well; the cries of the birds, the braying of the animals, even the splashes of the fish in the water all faded away into nothingness, until silence held just as much power as the son himself.
In this newfound quiet, the son found himself thinking more than ever before, and the more he thought the more he began to wonder, and the more he wondered the more he began to question. He began to ask himself why things were such as they are, how they came into being, how did they function, and what was their purpose?
He looked at the trees, and wondered why they so green. He stared into the lakes, and wondered why they were so deep. He wondered why up was up, and down was down, and not the other way around. Why did some foods taste sweet and others sour, why is orange so orange, what makes fish swim, and why is it always cloudy on Thursday afternoons? All of this he wondered, and a great many other questions indeed. But it did not matter. It did not make any difference how many things he pondered, because he could not ask them. He had taken away the words, and so all he could was question himself, in silence, never receiving any answer.
This brought a despair to the son so great and terrible he would not have been able to express it with words alone, even if he had any to use. He detached himself from his kingdom, secluding himself in his palace. The lands began to grow dark and gray, the world seeming to fade away from itself.
It was during this dark time that an innocent bystander, a humble little man of no great importance, found himself doing something quite unusual. It was his job to clean the grand staircase inside the king's palace, and he was doing so as quietly as he could manage, his mop swishing back and forth along the marble floors, when he began to hum to himself.
At first the man did not notice the hum. So long had the peoples of the land been without sound that their ears were not used to hearing it, but eventually he realised the sound, and that it was coming from himself. He hummed again, this time louder than before, just to check that it was true. So then he ran, full of excitement, through the palace, desperately searching for the king.
The son, now a king in name alone, was on his throne pondering his many questions, when the humble man burst forth. The king looked at him, unsure of his presence, only adding to the thousands of questions he wished so desperately to ask.
The humble man was hesitant, unsure whether he could trust his own ears, but he opened his mouth as if to speak, as wide as he could.
But speak he couldn't.
Instead a thousand shouts and screams and cries and whimpers burst forth, the humble man becoming lost in the cacophony of pure sound that erupted around him. The sound grew, taking form and sucking the darkness and misery from every corner of the land, filling itself with the hurt and pain of the people around it. The sound took the form of a great serpent, swelling and filling the room, so loud and fierce it could be heard all across the kingdom, the screeching wailing of music, freed at last.
The people of the land rejoiced, and cried out in praise, for not only was the sound brought back to them, but they found that at last their thoughts were their own, rather than someone else's, twisted and deformed. They heard the cries of the great beast echoing around them, and it filled them with joy and comfort.
But not the king. To the king, the sounds of the beast were terrifying, a voice whispering deep inside his ear, like metal scraping against metal, taunting him. He threw himself at the feet of the beast, in fear of what it would do to him. He tried to speak, but found that no words could come. Perhaps not because he couldn't speak, but simply because the words had escaped him. He wanted to ask the creature everything. Why did flowers grow? What happens when you die? And why, why, why was he so cruel?
He looked at the beast, and the beast looked back at him. The beast twisted it's body, so for a moment it resembled the shape of a question mark, before it turned and disappeared from this quiet world forever.
Soon after, the king left the city, and the people of the land did rejoice, and a new king was found, and life returned to them once more, more colourful and joyful then it had ever been before.
The son, however, travelled across the lands, trying to find the answers which he so desperately needed. Never a word again left his lips, and every time he closed his eyes he saw the great unknown, staring down upon him, mocking.
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Post by Isadora Is a Door on Feb 4, 2022 11:04:01 GMT -5
10 - The Night
Kate couldn't sleep. She had been a detective with special branch for many years, and so she had managed to build up a resilience to this kind of thing. She couldn't afford to let cases like this get under her skin, but this time it was different. Somehow her defences had been breached, and she was drowning in it. There was no escape. Perhaps it was the murky web of rumour and folklore that surrounded everything. Perhaps it was the fact that so many on the force were reticent to investigate, scared of suffering a similar to fate Daniel. Or Perhaps it was something else, something that Kate was scared to admit, or something that she was too scared to question.
She could feel a muscle in her back aching, one of the many drawbacks of having something growing inside you, but she couldn't find the effort to dislodge it. In her state, finding the effort to move was hard enough without it being the middle of the night, never mind the swamp of thoughts in her head. She was surprised how easy she found it, to forget that she was pregnant, but with everything else that was going on she hardly ever seemed to be focused on anything.
Kate dragged herself upwards, one hand holding her up, the other resting on her belly. Her head felt woozy, a metallic ringing in her eyes. A passing glance at the clock showed it had just gone two, and that was probably all the sleep she was going to get. She look at Tom, lying with his back facing away from her.
'Are you awake?' she asked him, her voice deeper and craggier than she had expected.
There was a moments silence, before she asked again 'Are you awake??', this time with a hint of sharpness and a slight poke from her finger.
'No.' said Tom, regretfully, and he turned to face her, his eyes more asleep than the rest of him.
'I can't sleep.' said Kate
'And you thought you'd share the experience with me?' Tom sighed, but he reached out his hand, and she took it, placing it on her stomach. They remained there like that, for a moment, Kate listening to the muffled ringing in her ears.
Kate turned her eyes to look at him, still laying there half asleep. The thoughts were swirling in her head, but nothing cohesive, nothing she could verbalise. It had been this way for days, ever since she had read the page that Jenkins had given her. David Ruelle. What was it that had caused her to lie, to withhold this information, almost automatically? It was only a name, and it meant nothing, every part of her brain and her training told her that it was just coincidence, but still. There was some instinct, some gut feeling that made it sit uneasy in her mind.
Did Tom know that his father had been involved, or at least related to, a strange spate of murders, imprisonments and kidnappings? And if he did know, why had he not told her? Was it because she was a police officer, worried what she might think of him? More likely he knew nothing of it. She desperately wanted to ask him, to find out the truth, but every time she imagined the question being asked she didn't see it ending well. How could you ask such a thing without sounding accusatory and mistrustful?
Tom opened an eye, and looked up at her.
'What?' he asked, with a smile that could mean anything.
'Nothing.' she smiled back at him feebly. 'I was thinking about the case.' she said, the truth shrouding the lie.
He smiled more seriously now. 'Of course you are. You always are.'
'There's just so much that doesn't makes sense, things I can't fit together in my head. I feel like every clue I find is being etched into sand, and each time I turn my back the tide just washes it away.'
'You can't solve everything Kate.'
She gave him a scornful look and snorted. 'Well, I haven't done too badly so far. This is different though.'
'Yeah.' said Tom, rubbing his eyes. 'You have been different.'
'How so?' Kate arched an eyebrow at him.
'I don't know exactly. More.... heavy?'
'Are you trying to be funny?'
'No, it's just that.... you don't normally let things get to you. Not like this has, at any rate.'
Kate looked at Tom, his eyes distant with blurry sleep, unsure. 'I feel like - and don't laugh at me, please - I feel like I'm being watched. All the time.'
Tom sat up, suddenly more awake and serious. 'Why? How did that start?'
'I don't know, it's just a feeling. It's something about that place, that house. It just gets under my skin somehow.' Kate reached down to the floor and pulled a vacant shirt over her shoulders. She stood up, much more clumsily than she had hoped. 'I'm just going to get some water. You go back to sleep.'
'Are you sure?' said Tom, his eyes already closed again.
'Yeah, I'm fine.' she said, her voice more of a whisper now, and she crept slowly out of the bedroom. She flicked on the light of the landing, and for a moment the ringing in her eyes grew louder as she tried to gather her senses together. She didn't even need a drink of water, that was just an excuse. She felt too uncomfortable, her secret discovery hanging in the air around her and Tom for the last few days. She felt like she couldn't breathe around him, not at the moment.
Kate turned and drifted towards the stairs, her feet creaking along with the floorboards as she took each step. She could feel the chill of the floor seeping up into her bare skin, goosepimples rising up her legs as she descended into the darkness. As she reached the bottom floor her ears cracked, with a small pop, and the ringing that had been bugging her eased off. She sighed and rubbed her temples. the myriad thoughts swirling in her head.
She stepped into the kitchen, took a glass out of the cupboard, and began to fill it, the cold water making her shiver through the glass. It was true, what she had said to Tom. She did feel like she was being watched. As she stood at the sink she felt it, this prickling sensation at the back of her neck, like someone just behind was going to reach out and touch her. Kate sipped the water, but it didn't help. She only felt colder.
Kate turned on the spot, looking down the corridor in the direction she had come, and of course there was nothing there. She had been playing this game a lot over the last few days, turning around expecting to find something, or someone behind her, but instead finding anything but. There was just an empty kitchen, the darkened corridor, and a shadow of something leaning through the glass of her front door.
Something.
It was a shadow, definitely, but of what Kate couldn't be sure. Maybe it was a person, or maybe that was just her mind, her constant paranoia, creeping up on her, playing tricks. It could be anything, that shape, anything at all. It was just a shadow, a tree outside, a car, something, but most definitely not a person, not someone that had been following her, tracking her, no.
The shadow raised its hand, and knocked gently on the glass of the door.
Kates mouth suddenly felt drier than it had before, and she was suddenly aware of how little clothing she was wearing. The knock had been quiet, so quiet that nobody upstairs could hear it, and that meant that whoever - or whatever - this shadow was, it could see Kate, and knew that she could see it too.
With trepidation she walked towards the front door. The shape hadn't moved, and she still wasn't sure what she was doing, if she should engage with what was happening, but before she knew it she had turned the key in the lock, and the door was open.
'Hello', said the man who was standing there. 'My Name is Robert Jewell. I need to talk to you.'
'It's the middle of the night' said Kate, fiercely. 'I don't care what you're selling, I'm not buying any-'
'It's about Irving Close, and the Feints, and what happened to them. I need to warn you, and you need to listen.'
Kate gulped. Unexpected, but not surprising. Who was he? 'To what??' she said 'There is a police investigation underway and-'
'I know.' said Robert. 'I've been watching you.'
'You?' said Kate. 'You've been following me?'
Robert nodded.
'Why?'
'Because it's not safe, don't you understand? That house, that place, is dangerous. Everyone who has ever poked their nose into its business has ended up the same way - like your colleague, for example. Wasn't that enough of a warning for you to stay away?'
'The police investigate murders, not avoid them.'
'But it's not just murder though, is it? There's something else. Something strange and twisted about that place, and you know it. You've felt it, haven't you.'
'Perhaps.' Despite her better judgement, Kate knew that she had felt it, but acknowledging it out loud would only make her fears worse. 'Or perhaps its superstitious busybodies like you peddling this nonsense that-'
'It's not nonsense. There's something in that house, something living, and it kills anyone who goes inside. You know it, I know it, everyone in the whole damn street knows it, but nobody will admit it. Because admitting it only makes it worse, doesn't it?'
Kate's mouth felt even drier. 'What kind of thing?'
'I don't know. You need to talk to Dr. Montgomery - He's the only surviving member of the Inhumane Society.'
Kate shook her head. 'No, he died a few years back.'
Robert smiled. 'No, he didn't. Few people know where he's been hiding out, but with enough time and money you can find anybody.' Robert held out a small piece of paper. 'This is the address of where he's staying. Talk to him, ask him about Emmeline. Listen to what he has to say, and if you still don't believe me then god help you. You shouldn't be doing this, especially a woman in your condition.'
'My condition?'
'Talk to Dr. Montgomery, then you'll see.'
Kate took the paper from Robert, seeing an address scribbled on one side. 'Okay, I will. And you,' she pointed a finger at him 'need to stop following me.'
Robert nodded shortly. 'I will. If you promise me that you'll stay away from that house.'
'Why do you care so much?' asked Kate
Robert sighed. 'If you'd seen the things I'd seen you'd understand why I care, and you'd understand why I don't want anybody else to see them either. Goodnight detective.'
And with that he turned and disappeared back into the darkness, leaving Kate alone on her doorstep. She looked again at the paper he had given her, and the address rang a bell of familiarity within her, but she couldn't quite place where she had seen it before. She shivered in the night, and went back inside.
Tom was still half-asleep when she climbed back into bed next to him, pressing her body up against his for warmth.
'I heard you talking to someone.' he mumbled.
'I was. It was one of the residents of Irving Close.'
'What did he want?'
'He-, he warned me not to go inside the Feint house.'
There was a moments silence before Tom asked, 'And?'
'And what?'
'And are you going to stay away from there?'
Although nobody could see in the darkness, Kate smiled. 'Absolutely not.'
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Post by Isadora Is a Door on Feb 11, 2022 10:59:57 GMT -5
11 - The Doctor
It was black as night, the shape fogged by distant memory. He wanted to reach out and touch it, but he was fearful, scared the creature would lash out and hurt him.
'What is it?' he asked.
'It is mankind greatest discovery' came Armstrongs reply, though he felt as though he had heard the words somewhere else before now. 'We are redefining the laws of nature.'
'Dr. Montgomery'
Who was that?
'Dr. Montgomery' came the voice again, so much further away, but clearer, casting the images away from him. What did she want now?
'Dr. Montgomery, you have a visitor.'
And the room was gone, the cold steel and metal corridors replaced by warm fires and woollen blankets. The sense of fear remained with him still, as it always did.
There was a face in front of him, a face he did not know, and at first the features of her face simply blurred in front of him, beyond recognition and out of his consciousness.
'Hello Dr. Montgomery' said the face, a light scottish drawl, trying to be friendly but curt and urgent in its manner. 'My name is Kate, I'm a detective.'
He looked at her, and the face clarified suddenly, like a lens being shifted in front of eyes. She was pretty, with short hair and inquisitive eyes. She smiled at him, and he imagined she thought it would be comforting, but it was not. It was full of emptiness and longing.
'I just wanted to ask you some questions, if it's not too much trouble.'
'We are redefining the laws of nature.'
Montgomery found himself shifting once more, the elements of his mind crashing against each other.
'Allow me to introduce to you all the newest member of our Inhumane Society.'
They were in the meeting room, the abomination in it's cage. The rest of the details were blurry, but he could not forget a single detail of the girl. There was blood streaming in a gentle trickle from the place where eyes had once been, her face somehow staring at him. He recognised it in her, the beast that he had seen all those years before. She was a part of it, and it a part of her.
'Her name is Emmeline' said Armstrong.
The name was no surprise, but it was still a sickening shock to hear it. This was the child, that monstrous thing, kept alive for all these years.
'Do you want me to tell you about Emmeline?' said Dr. Montgomery, his voice thin and weak, a strangers words tumbling out of his mouth. He was back in the warm room, he could feel the blanket resting on his lap, heavier than himself.
'Emmeline?' said Kate, almost surprised. 'Who is she?'
'Thats all anyone seems to ask me lately. Or at least that other man did, Robert. Was he a policeman as well?'
Kate shook her head. 'No, he was just...interested.'
Montgomery nodded. 'I can see why. He was related to her, one of them at least.'
'One of them?'
'There were two Emmelines' said Montgomery, his eyes staring off into the distance. 'And now there are none. I had a son once, and he had my name as well. Two Montgomerys, or at least there were until he died. Soon there won't be any Montgomerys any more.'
Kate placed her hand on top his, and he could feel the warmth spreading into him. She smiled weakly at him once more. 'Who were the, then?'
'The first Emmeline was his wife, Armstrongs. She was a beautiful lady, and they loved each other, very much. But she died, in a terrible accident, and that's when Armstrong's obsession began. The creature that had taken her, it...'
'We are redefining the laws of nature.'
'He tried to investigate the creature, to work out what it was. He became obsessed.
The water around it was clearest blue, purified and translucent. But the creature itself was blackest night, and it seemed to suck the colour out of everything around it. He was drawn to it, as though it was consuming him, pulling him into its reach.
'How did you get it here?' Montgomery asked them.
Widdershins smiled. 'It's not the same one that killed Emmeline, Montgomery.'
'I don't understand' he told them. 'Where did it come from?'
Armstrong placed his hand on Montgomery shoulder, and he could feel the coldness seeping into him.
'We grew our own.'
'Dr. Montgomery?'
'We are redefining the laws of nature.'
'Dr. Montgomery?'
The voice brought him back to the present, and for a moment he couldn't remember what he'd been saying.
'Is everything okay?' said the woman, her hand still resting on his, growing colder.
Montgomery shook himself back to the present and smiled at her. 'I'm sorry, my mind is all over the place lately. My thoughts seem to keep slipping away from me second by second, like sand in an hourglass.'
Kate nodded, but her face was free of sympathy.
'Who was the other Emmeline?' she asked.
Montgomery thought for a moment, the pain of the memories giving pause. 'Armstrong disappeared, for a long time, and his daughter Ellington as well. And then one day she came back. She met a man a who lived on Irving Close, I believe his name was Jack. They had a child together, whom Ellington named after her mother - Emmeline.'
'Hang on' said Kate 'Didn't Ellington drown as well? In the same lake as her mother.'
Montgomery nodded serenely. 'You're quite correct.'
'How? What happened?'
'She was trying to escape.'
'Escape what?'
'Her father.' Montgomery sighed. 'When Armstrong returned, he was a changed man. It was as though his years of research had infected him somehow. He was unhappy at his daughter behaviour, and he murdered Jack. The residents of Irving Close never forgot, however. Jack's brother even named his own daughter Emmeline. Armstrong didn't care though. He felt that in Ellington he had found the perfect specimen for his experiments.'
'He experimented on his own daughter?'
Montgomery shook his head. 'No, not her. The child.'
Kate bit her lip in thought. 'Experimented how?'
Montgomery shook his head again. 'Even if I could explain to you I would not. It was unspeakably evil. The child...'
'We are redefining the laws of nature.'
'The child was.....a monstrosity.'
There was blood streaming in a gentle trickle from the place where eyes had once been, 'Her name is Emmeline'
'What happened to her, to Emmeline?'
'No' he shook his head once again. 'I cannot say any more.'
'Dr. Montgomery, please, this is a very serious investigation.'
'No!' He could feel his hands beginning to shake. 'I refuse. If you knew the things that I knew you would understand.'
'But I don't know.' said Kate, her hand gripping his tightly now. 'That's exactly my problem. People have died because of this, and I don't want any more deaths on my conscience just because you are withholding information for me to protect some kind of secret knowledge or dignity. Tell me what I need to know!'
He thought for a moment, the words washing over him, soaking through him.
'Nurse!' he shouted. 'Nurse! Nurse! Nurse!'
'Thank you very much for your time, Dr. Montgomery' Kate stood quickly from her chair, and held out her hand for him to shake. As she did so he noticed the curve of her belly, something he had missed before.
'Are you...'
The sound of screams filled his ears, there was blood and sweat all around him. In a moment it was moving, like a huge black, dense mass heading towards her.
Another voice cut in 'What's going on here?'
'What's happening?' cried Ellington, the ruin of her eyes falling down her face
'I was just leaving.' said Kate, trying to move away
'It's -' Montgomery could hear his own voice shaking. 'It's an abomination.'
'Are you okay Dr. Montgomery?'
Montgomery stood up, much quicker than he had thought possible, and put both his hands tightly around Kates wrists. 'You must listen to me.' he said fiercely. He could feel the nurse trying to pull him off of her, but he didn't care. She was so busy trying to get away that she wasn't listening, so he pushed his face closer to her. 'You must stay away from that house, it's dangerous, especially for someone like you.'
'Come now, Dr. Montgomery' came the voice of the one of the nurses, and he felt himself being pulled away from her.
'The child will kill you, do you understand me? It will kill us all.'
Armstrong held the child in his hands, its long fingernails scratching aimlessly in the air, the eyeless face peering desperately around.
'It's Perfect'
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Post by Isadora Is a Door on Feb 15, 2022 13:52:21 GMT -5
12 - The Children
The room was filled with an electric hum, buzzing away in the corner of Widdershins ears while he worked, but not loud enough to cover the footsteps. He could hear what was going on behind him, but he wouldn't let himself be distracted from what was in front of him.
Subject Six had not been reacting well to the injections. The last few times his blood had began to clot, and he had been forced to interfere. Perhaps it would not be a concern for too much longer.
The subjects arm was limp and weak, the veins loose like wet noodles, but he found one eventually. There was no reaction as the serum entered him. He was beyond recognition.
Widdershins placed the empty syringe on the metal pallet beside him, and placed his thumb over the subjects wrist, feeling for the pulse.
'What are you injecting them with?' came the voice behind him.
He paused for a moment, almost feeling resentful, before continuing to feel for the pulse. It was slow to begin with, but it had now slowed considerably.
There were echoing footsteps, louder than those that he must have used to sneak in, and Armstrong stretched out a gloved hand, picking up the syringe. 'Hmm', he said, studying it intently. 'Interesting. So I take it that our specimen is still alive?'
Widdershins gave the shortest of nods, and turned to look at Armstrong. He saw nothing, the face hidden behind a strange, blank mask, made of smooth metal, and with small slits for eye holes.
'Where the hell have you been?' he asked.
Armstrong shrugged. 'I've been doing research.'
Widdershins stood, dragging the subject along behind him. 'I've not seen you for more than three years. What kind of research takes that much time?'
'The most important kind.' Armstrong followed Widdershins into the adjacent room, where the subjects were kept. 'You never doubted me though, did you?'
Widdershins didn't reply.
'Well, I can see that you've been continuing our good work.'
'I had no choice.' He opened the cage door and pushed the subject inside, shutting the door behind him. 'I had to see it through, learn what I could.'
'And what did you learn?'
'The affects vary from person to person. The samples I am injecting them with are already tainted by nature, and the subject range is limited, so there's only so much I can record.'
'Limited?' said Armstrong, inquisitively.
'Without your help I have found it much harder to procure my specimens. It has not been impossible, but difficult. However, despite my limited resources I have learned much. The effects of the serum to vary with age - the younger the subject, the greater the lucidity, something not as apparent with the elder tests. They have been more victim to hallucinations and hysteria, and in some cases insanity.'
Armstrong gave a small wave of his hand, almost dismissive. 'That's by the by. What about any physical changes.'
'With that I have had limited success. The older subjects have shown little or no change. The younger the subject, the more progress I have had. The blood grows darker and thicker, the hair finer and shorter. The hands begin to malform, and the eyes begin to...'
'Begin to what?'
Widdershins sighed. 'It is hard to describe. The easiest word would be rot, but that is not quite it. They begin to blacken, to crumble, almost to fade away is to nothing. The subjects become restless, almost as if they cannot bear them. If it were not for their lucidity then I would fear what they might do to themselves.'
'Interesting...' said Armstrong, placing his hands into is pockets. 'If we are to believe David's ramblings, than the eye is the source of all human knowledge. Perhaps by awakening our true natures, to shun ourselves of all humanity, we must first rid ourselves of such knowledge.'
Widdershins shrugged. He wasn't interested in speculation, just the facts, and only those that his research could prove. 'And what have you achieved these last four years?'
'I found the Beast.' Armstrong was almost nonchalant about the way we said it. 'And I grew more.'
'It sounds like you've done well enough without me. Why have you come back?'
'Ha. Because things went wrong.'
Widdershins looked into the slits of Armstrong's mask. Darkness seemed to be emanating for him, so he could be sure, but it almost felt as though whatever remained of Armstrong's eyes were staring back at him.
'What do you want, Armstrong?'
'The same thing I always want. To help.'
'Well, then I'm afraid you may have had a wasted journey. I feel as though I have run this experiment as far as it can go. We had already reached this conclusion, and all my work here has done nothing but confirm it. To create a true symbiosis we would need to manipulate the specimen in utero.'
'I see.' Armstrong nodded. 'That may not be beyond the realm of possibility. We should go back to my house, set things up there again.'
Widdershins shook his head. 'We can't. Ellington is there.'
Armstrong did not seem surprised. 'That will not be a problem. In fact, we may be able to use her to our advantage.'
He moved back into the direction they had come, expecting Widdershins to follow him. When he didn't, and Armstrong turned at the doorway, cocking his head slightly toward him.
'I have something I must do first.' said Widdershins, answering the sunspoken question. 'You cannot just expect me to drop everything and come with you in an instant.' Armstrong had always been this way, headstrong and heedless, never stopping to think of other people's will and inclination. Widdershins did not mind, he was practical enough, but he did not want to be taken advantage of. And he had sacrificed enough for Armstrongs ambitions. 'I have something I must do first.'
'And what is that?'
'It's feeding time.' Widdershins walked over to another cell, and will the rummage of a key and the click of a lock took out Subject Four.
She was young, the youngest of the subjects, so the daily injections had taken the most effect on her. Her hair had begun to thin, her nails had grown long and sharp, and her eyes were dark hollows, fading away from her. She was barely on the edge of consciousness, so Widdershins had to carry in his arms.
He bore her into a large antechamber, down a series of metal steps to the bottom of a pit. Armstrong remained at the top, looking down on them both.
When Widdershins placed her onto a small plinth she began to cry of anguish. He ignored this, and began to strap her arms and legs down onto the chair. Once she was secured, he took another syringe from a small attache case in his pocket, and in a few moments she fell silent.
'You could have drugged her before we came here.' said Armstrong, as Widdershins rejoined him at the top of the steps. 'Why didn't you?'
'It's drawn to their screams.' He walked over to a large lever embedded in the wall, and with a heave pulled it loose, A doorway at the bottom of the pit clanged open, and gallons of dark and murky water began to pour into the room, submerging the girl. This place had previously been an old docking station for submarines, the rest of the facility built over it in more recent times. But this has always been their true purpose.
They heard the sounds of the Beast first, an ambient buzzing, humming in the backs of their ears. The Water began to grow darker, shapes moving within it, and the sound intensified around them.
Armstrong and Widdershins stood silent, unmoved, as the Beast fed.
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Post by HAL 10,000 on Feb 15, 2022 18:12:58 GMT -5
That cliffhanger is really well done.
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Post by Isadora Is a Door on Feb 15, 2022 18:16:18 GMT -5
Thank you! I actually found it the hardest part to write, so i'm glad it came out well.
Just one last chapter to go. it will be interesting to see what questions people have left. This story has so many threads and elements to it, I wonder how obvious (or not) it is to see where its all heading
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Post by Isadora Is a Door on Feb 21, 2022 16:51:40 GMT -5
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