A Modern Myth...

[ricegrains&rosesxo.]

I.

Another body was found today. The current death-toll is now up to nine, and the latest victim was a Caucasian man in his mid twenties, with mid-length blonde hair and blue eyes. He was discovered in a nine storey apartment building on the fourth level in Newark, NJ. The Metropolitan Police found the body after calls from neighbours saying something was wrong in the household, and he was situated on the bathroom floor in a pool of bodily fluids. The colour of these fluids was black and ghastly. A bloodstained switchblade lay beside him, which indicates suicide or murder, although there were no physical wounds visible on the body.

I leant back in my chair, balancing on the back legs and stared up into the texture on the ceiling. All was silent, save for the faint thudding of the raindrops on the window. Only the glare from the computer screen illuminated the room that I was working inside. But this was the way I liked it.
Heaving a sigh, I dropped my gaze back to the monitor and squinted slightly at the text displayed on it. It was my unfortunate duty to record the stomach-churning events of recent weeks, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Ever since I could remember, I’d always been a lot darker, a lot grimmer and a lot less squeamish than all the other girls. While they were dressing their Barbie dolls and brushing their fake, plastic hair, I occupied myself with other things, like reading the most grisly books I could find. When I reached my teenage years, the names and faces changed, but the similarities were endless. And now I sit in this chair, behind this desk, noting everything that happens. I know I’ve always wanted to be a writer, and I know I love horror stories, but this wasn’t the career I had in mind when I graduated from Rutgers University last year. It’s not what I had imagined at all.
I grasped the arms of my chair and pushed myself out of it, the hard materials it was constructed from leaving dents in my fingertips. Crossing the room to the tacky old coffee vending machine, I snatched my mug off of my desk and shoved it under the spout. Then I waited.
After the caffeine-rich beverage had trickled into my mug, I got back to work. The caffeine was quick to take effect, and I returned to typing my account almost instantaneously.

The body is now being transferred to the New Jersey State Mortuary for autopsy, and relatives have been notified. However, this victim’s wounds are identical to the wounds inflicted on the past eight victims. All have been found within the confines of the New Jersey state boundaries, yet the predator for lack of better word still eludes us. They are working systematically; there is no doubt about it. Whoever is behind these attacks has a cunning and quick-thinking mind, and the ability to cause great things to occur. They are dreadful things, but great.

I turned back to my drink, eager to take another gulp and have another surge of words fly into my head, desperate to be transferred onto paper. I lowered my eyes to my mug.
The golden brown liquid, gone. It was replaced by a thick ruby red substance, shimmering in the non-existent lights. A rotting stench drifted from the mug to my nostrils, and I immediately realised what it was – blood. I backed into the wall, pulling the wires linking my laptop to the electricity from the socket. It plunged myself and my surroundings into complete darkness. What was going on?
Footsteps.
My muscles tensed. My breath quickened, becoming ever shallower, as the pounding noises on the gritty flooring drew nearer.
The turning on the doorknob; the creaking of the locked door as it was eased open.
This is it. This would be my last few, fearful breaths. I knew those horror stories would send me to my end eventually.
I could hear their deep, rhythmic breathing. I could smell the presence of something new, something unusual. I could feel the thin, strong fingers latching onto my wrist. I jumped as high as the roof, almost like a kangaroo, but I didn’t scream.
What use does screaming do? We’re all going to die anyway.
I kept on waiting for that deadly blow, but it never came. Eventually a low voice croaked out from the darkness that blinded my eyes. It was spine-chilling, but sympathetic. Why, I didn’t know. But I would find that out soon enough.
“I’m here to help you.”[/font]

[ricegrains&rosesxo.]

II.

“Help me with what?” I stuttered.
The voice hesitated. I felt the fingers relinquish their grasp on my wrist, allowing my blood to flow back to it. The footsteps moved again. My eyes darted desperately around in their sockets, but the black sheet covering my familiar surroundings remained the only thing that I could see.

Suddenly, the lights reignited in my computer screen. Gingerly, I took a few steps towards it. The figure of a man was stood behind my chair, his features still cast in shadows, loading up my saved works and casually scanning them, as if the gruesome tales within them were a pleasant storybook in which everyone lived happily ever after.
“You record these disastrous events. Alone. In the darkness.” He did not ask me about my occupation – he merely stated it.

“I always find with the lights out it’s a little less dangerous.”
He gave a brief nod of agreement. I stayed rooted to the spot, my green eyes fixing on him as he surveyed my accounts. When he was done, he stood up and almost glided over to me with extreme grace; there he stood, towering above me, looking down. For some reason, I had a gut feeling that it would be best to create eye contact. I gulped and turned my head up to look into the dark shadows covering his eyes.
We stood there for a few minutes. I tried to take in as many of this stranger’s features as possible in the scarce light before he spoke again.

“You are brave. You are resourceful. And you have a thirst to prove yourself… you are The One.”
I stuttered, “Uh, The One for what?”
He replied with a few simple, hushed words. “The one that I am looking for.”

[ricegrains&rosesxo.]

III.

“Um, excuse me…” I started, barely audibly. I was choked with shock. One minute I was doing my work, the next I’m presented with a mysterious stranger that seems to know me better than I do.
“You are wondering who I am, why I’m here and how I know of you.”
I was even more taken aback at this affirmation. I replied slowly, “Well, yeah.”

The man broke eye contact and turned away. He walked over to the door and locked it again, my eyes following anxiously. Soon he returned, the look of seriousness embellished over his dead-looking, frozen skin and sinister, shadowed features. Steadily, he waved a hand, causing the already dim lighting to fade a little more. Nerves were starting to get the better of me, but I had to hear what he had to say.

“You are aware of the date today” he uttered.
“May 28th 2006…”
He nodded. “And how many people are dead?”
“Nine… but what are you getting at?”

Silence. I knew he was contemplating how to phrase his next words.
“Don’t you see it?” he whispered desperately.
“See what?” I was genuinely confused. “A load of dates and numbers…”
“That’s exactly it!” He gasped, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me slightly. “A variety of unlucky numbers and unsavoury events that will lead to the fall of this entire world.”

And then it clicked.
“You’re not saying…” I gulped, “that thirteen people are gunna get killed?”
“You are beginning to understand the sheer danger that we all face.”
“But why now?” I questioned. “Why couldn’t this have happened at any other time?”
“Because of the Sixth of the Sixth of the Sixth. A sacred day for those that dwell in the Underworld.”

I gasped. So many thoughts raced through my mind – which of the rumours were true, what would become of us, how this person knew all of this, and why he needed me.
“It is your fate to become involved in this.” He seemed to be able to read my thoughts again. “All will become clear to you soon. You have to put your faith in me, for without it, we are all doomed.”

I thought fast. “How can I trust someone whose face I can’t recognise?”
It was true. All through our conversation, he kept the lighting to a minimum.
“Your point is fair.” He waved his hand again, and the lights slowly reignited.

Stood about two inches away from me was a figure with plasticy, sickly white skin, dark messy hair and vibrant green eyes hidden beneath the black circles around them. He was of average height, but had a very tired look about him. Maybe it was just the sudden brightness reflecting off of his dead-looking body, which was clad in black clothes. Somehow, he looked familiar… like I had seen him somewhere else before. I felt as though I knew him for my whole life, or longer, but I had only just laid eyes on the guy.

A scraping at the door.
He spun towards it, then to the window. We must have been talking for hours, as the sun was growing brighter in the sky with every passing minute. He hurriedly turned back to me.
“I must go”, he whispered.
“Why?”
”You will see. I will return tonight, and then we shall leave.”
“Wait”, I exclaimed, “Where are we going?”
He replied quietly again, “You will see.”

He drew away from me, whisking the window open with the flick of a wrist. He moved towards the window – I pursued. But he was too quick for me, and vanished before I approached the frame of the window.

I heard the door slam open. I froze, realising what a sight I must have looked.
“Yazz?” the oh so familiar voice enquired. “What’s happened?”
I gazed out of the window a few moments longer before twisting around to see the usual black hair, brown eyes and skinny frame of my colleague and old school friend, Alison.

And I told her.

[ricegrains&rosesxo.]

IV.

“Are you being serious?”
Her big, big eyes stared at me in disbelief. Even I was having trouble believing that what I saw that night was real and not just fantasy. But he said he’d come back. He assured me he’d come back. She must have noticed the look etched on my face as she promptly dropped that particular subject, moving on apace to thinking up many a conspiracy theory about June 6th 2006 and why this person, whoever he was, wanted me. I rolled my eyes. This was the same old, imaginative Allie.

[glow=white,2,300]FLASHBACK.[/glow]

Lots of adrenaline. The queue had just started moving, and we had been standing in line for over five hours just to see them. It was a miserable, rainy day that seemed so out of place, because we were feeling the exact opposite.
The building that we entered was pretty shabby. Fluorescent yellow wristbands were taped round our wrists and we trekked past endless doors, following the signs that pointed towards our destination. Soon we arrived in a small hall with hardly anybody inside it. Automatically, we raced towards the front and implanted ourselves in the very middle of the front row before anybody else could.

The wait between entering and the support act seemed to fly past and before we knew it, a little band from London, England was trying to entertain us. Unfortunately, they were failing. Soon they abandoned the grubby stage to cheers from the crowd – cheers at the fact they were gone.
I glanced excitedly at my two companions, who were crushed against my sides. Both were beaming ecstatically. I can only say I agreed extremely strongly; we didn’t wait all that time for nothing.

What remained of the dim lighting was instantly killed. I screamed at the top of my lungs, joining in the venue-wide chant. My keen hearing picked up a surge of footsteps pounding the stage. My face twisted uncontrollably into the broadest of grins before the first, powerful notes of an instantly recognizable song rang through the bodies and souls of the small pack assembled that night.

A flash of strobe lighting occurred, lighting up the movements of the five boys on stage. Closest to me was the lead singer, who had his back to his audience, doing some kind of mechanical dance. I didn’t know who to look at – the drummer hidden at the back, the shy and geeky bassist, the eccentric rhythm guitarist, the lead guitarist who sported a magnificent auburn afro, or the deathly white man who stood in front of me. Suddenly, he leapt round, revealing long, black locks of hair.
“Open those fucking moshpits right now!! Open ‘em up!!” he demanded.
The audience complied, and the band burst into vicious song. They all darted across the stage, all the while looking rather camp. I screamed all the words, my green eyes laden with red and black make-up constantly flitting between all the band members.

“A pretty face but you do so carry- UUUUUUH, AND ONNNN AND ON!” the singer groaned, for during that line, the small and over-excited rhythm guitarist kneed him in a very delicate place. Bodies were flying overhead, crowdsurfing out of the ruckus.
And before I knew it, it was over. However, that didn’t matter to us. We had more pressing issues.

“Allie, did you find out were the backstage door was before we came in?” I asked the girl on my left.
“But of course” she replied smugly. I grinned and followed her, the three of us deep in conversation about the nights events.
“Did you see that dance Gerard did at the beginning of Thank You for the Venom?” my other friend gushed. “It was so funny!”
”How about Our Lady of Sorrows??” I babbled. “Turning up the house lights like that! And the pure chaos of it all!”
“All of it was awesome!” Allie stated, pulling us by the wrists around a corner. “It was amazing how they ended on Helena, it’s such a touching song, and all those admirable speeches between songs!”

Directly in front of us was a slate-coloured door set into the cracked bricks. The three of us quietened suddenly. We all knew this door was the only thing separating us and them.
We just had to wait and see…

We waited for hours. The other crazed fans had long gone, and we were considering surrendering ourselves.
“They aren’t gunna come out now” my second friend groaned. “Allie, your dad’s probably sick of waiting for us. Let’s go home…”
“Not just yet!” Allie and myself snapped. The girl heaved a sigh and leant awkwardly against the wall. I thought she had a point though… until I could hear voices coming from inside, speaking in an unforgettable east-American accent.

”They’re coming!” I squeaked nervously.
As if it was an answer to our prayers, the cogs in the lock of the door grinded and crunched. Slowly, the door was eased open. First to emerge was a beaming face with sickly white skin, messy dark hair and vibrant green eyes hidden beneath huge black circles…

[glow=white,2,300]END FLASHBACK.[/glow]

[ricegrains&rosesxo.]

V.

I raised a hand to my forehead. I was drenched in a cold sweat and I was shaking; a dizzy spell came over me and I had to lean back on my other hand for support. Allie was watching my actions anxiously, observing how my pale skin was turning evermore translucent. I felt like I was going to be sick and pass out at the same time.
“Yazz?” she sounded worried.
I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Whenever I tried to talk, I felt as though a thousand switchblades were slashing up the back of my throat, preventing me from sharing what I had just been through with her. I gestured for a drink; she nodded, picked up a mug and took it outside to the water machine, then returned. I showed her my thanks and then took a sip, letting it ease my voice box before I attempted to talk again.
“He was in a band” I croaked. “That guy who spoke to me last night, he was in a band, us and another girl were fans.”
Allie replied slowly. “Yazz… I don’t know anybody matching the description of this guy, I would remember if I did.”
”Neither do I” I groaned. “But I did… we did… he was an idol of ours. I only met him last night but somehow I know I’ve seen him before.”
“Do you know this bands name?”
So then I had no choice but to tell her about what I had just witnessed.

I scratched my brain. Closing my eyes, I went over the memories over and over again in my head, trying to catch something. Eventually, I found it.
“Yeah! Just as they came on stage, when the lights flashed, it read My Chemical Romance.”
“Well, lets do a Google search for them then” she suggested plainly.

I nodded, booted up my laptop and opened an internet window. I tapped the words into the search bar. Nothing.
“This can’t be right.” I felt confused. The events were so clear, they just had to be real. How else would I have recognised this person when I first laid eyes on him?
“There’s no recollection of them… maybe you’re just imagining things.”
“I’m not imagining this!” I snapped. “He said he’d be back tonight. Stay with me, and I’ll show you he exists.”

Her expression was hard to read. I glared at her, piercing holes into her eyes with my own. Eventually, she gave a diminutive nod.
“I’ll meet you back here at nightfall” I told her, before turning on my heel and heading for home.

[ricegrains&rosesxo.]

VI.

The halls were dark. My feet pounded the familiar tiled floors, but somehow, it all felt different. It felt as if I was an intruder, or possibly some kind of thief, prowling the building and about to destroy all chances of a normal life.
I turned the doorknob carefully, the rucksack of clothes and other supplies dangling dangerously from my hand. I had difficulty stopping it banging loudly against the door. If Allie wasn’t inside, if it was someone else, I certainly didn’t want them to know that I was there.
It eased open. I stuck my head slowly round the door and peered inside; there was Allie, sat alone on the table. She was still in her work clothes. Upon my entrance, she laid eyes on the rucksack and immediately knew what was inside. I grinned and tossed it to her; she scurried off into a dark store cupboard to change.
“And don’t forget to hurry; he’ll be here soon!” I frantically whispered.
“Yeah, yeah, you sound like my mother…”

She emerged a few minutes later. She was practically camouflaged, as her clothes were as dark as her surroundings, save for the baby pink Jack Skellington shirt she was adorning. She smiled, but it wilted, and pulled a ribcage hoodie over the pink.
“Seriously Yazz, what the hell do you keep in that store cupboard?”
“Nothing…” I smirked, and then stared at her feet. They were soaked in what I knew was coffee from the faulty machine. She hated coffee, always had done. But what she didn’t know couldn’t hurt her.

Or at least, that’s what I hoped.