NPR Short Story

I'm not quite sure why I wrote this short story, but eh, why not pass it along anyway? It's a bit on the macabre side of the house, might be because I've been reading Lovecraft and others recently. Though I'd say the scariest part about this thing is that it's unedited. But, just in case dark isn't your thing, no worries, and tanks for dropping in. For all others... enjoy. I guess?

Where was he? That single thought dominated every fiber of his being. Placed around him in a occult circle were a few flickering torches, their mysterious placement conjured up fear in the man’s mind about who placed him and them there.

His face contorted in distress, as his heart quickened in pace. He couldn’t tell where he was, or even what time it happened to be. It felt like night; but, the rusted tinge dancing beneath the clouds made him less certain. Trying to get ahold of his bearings, he scanned the horizon in front of him, only to come up with nothing, nothing but a blackened expanse.

With more than a little trepidation, he tiptoed past a space between two torches into the palette of darkness, intent on finding anything that might show him the way out of here, wherever here happened to be.

His hair stood on end as it fully engulfed and swam about him, meanwhile an irrational fear of being hunted seeped into the back of his mind. If being stalked was a sensation, than he was certainly feeling it now, as invisible eyes bore holes into the back of his skull. But despite the near crippling phobia, nothing revealed itself to him. He was alone in this black hole, and in a way, that almost made him feel worse. The air felt thicker and heavier with each breath he swallowed of the oppressive void, and soon he feared that staying here would cause him to choke on it.

Without realising it, he’d begun to quicken his pace, his cautious walk had turned into a march, his march had turned into a jog, and as the last of his sanity left him; his flight instinct kicked him into a full on sprint.

He was tearing through the darkness now, fear twisting his fevered mind into conjuring up images of disembodied limbs grabbing and pulling him further into the abyss. His arms that he’d normally use to balance his run, swung wildly in front of him in search of anything he could either grab onto... or in the worst case, hopefully fling out of his way.

He tried his best to call out into the void, but his throat barely bleated out a groan. He steeled himself to attempt to cry out successfully, but as soon as he opened his mouth again, a piercing inhuman wail, met his ears. It unsettled him so, that he didn’t realise that it had rooted him in place. That is, until his eyes widened in horror at the feeling of clawed fingers caressing his scalp.

With more instinct than intention, he used his back leg to kick off into another sprint. But this time, whatever foul spawn that pursued him didn’t bother masking itself in stealth, as he heard every sickening slap of its foreign appendages make purchase against ground in the wild hunt for him.

Worse still, as the pursuit dragged on he could tell it was gaining ground on him as his endurance flagged behind his will to escape. If things kept up as they were, he was certain it would descend upon him in moments, free to unleash its insidious fate on him.

He continued as best he could, but resignation was beginning to weigh heavy on his heart.

So it was, with great surprise and elation, that he finally beheld a break in the blanket of black. His tired limbs ceased to lag behind will, as he pumped fervently forward with all the steam he yet could muster. He wasn’t gaining ground on his pursuer, but he ceased to care as his destination grew closer to him. Perhaps it was foolhardy or false hope, but he felt if he could only reach that grossly incandescent light, that perhaps he would stand a chance against it.

It was when he was but a hide away from the light, that the beast finally leapt upon him, dragging him down in a pile of limbs as he fought it’s every assault in a mad bid to reach his destination. In the scramble, he freed his torso enough to drag him and the leviathan, one agonizing elbow at a time, forward, until he breached the last barrier of light and darkness.

Whatever manner of creature it was, fled the instant it realized the fight wouldn’t be settled in oblivion.

Panting and thoroughly exhausted, the man rolled over, before slowly standing to take stock of the damage, careful to ready himself in case the beast decided to throw caution to the wind.

Rather than take his eyes off the darkness; he instead shook and checked each limb for damage, and when he was satisfied that he’d miraculously emerged unscathed, he slowly backpedaled from the curtain of black, careful not to let his guard down...or to trip.

It wasn’t until he felt leagues away, that he finally allowed himself enough reprieve to take stock of his surroundings. As he gradually took in the layout of the land, he wasn’t pleased with what he found. He was surrounded by buildings, but not the brick and mortar variety he was at home with. These were made of mud brick, and seemed strangely alien, yet familiar to his sensibilities.

Their construction alone wasn’t what displeased him, however, as every building he could spot, either seemed burned out, or was still on fire. The light he’d taken refuge in seemed to emanate from the buildings still burning down around him. The mystery of the oppressive atmosphere he’d struggled to breath in before, was solved as he saw the massive pillars of smoke ascend to the heavens, and the strange tint coloring the clouds dawned on him as the simple reflection of the fires. But every answer he arrived at, only left him with more questions that begged to be solved. And so, curiosity overrode caution, as he delved deeper into the hollow shell of the labyrinthian city.

He didn’t know how long he’d traversed his vacant hosts winding streets before he began to spot them, only that he couldn’t travel in any direction afterwards without spotting more.

Everywhere he looked, there were bodies, all face down, all stone still. Each and everyone contorted in just the right way, as if to appear they’d been cut down mid run. The madness of it all frayed the last nerve he’d been saving, and he quickly found himself leaning against the burned down husk of a building to choke back the tide of rising bile in his throat.

Alas, it was not a battle he was meant to win.

After the last of the sputtering and spitting was over, he took note of a new stimuli he’d failed to take heed of before. A low deep hum had begun to pierce the din of the crackling fires, as constant and ominous as this new sound was, it strangely, didn't affect him, it actually felt welcoming, like an old friend's embrace after a storm. Though recent experiences screamed at him to do otherwise, to forgo any foolishness, he was drawn to it, like an insect to a pheromone trap.

He walked for what felt like forever through the labyrinth of twisting paths before he knew he was close. The hum had become loud enough to drown out the cacophony of the fires. Whatever the racket was, it had to be big. The noise now rattled his bones and flesh in the same way deep bass would. But, upon rounding a dimly lit corner that he swore would be the source- it stopped. He knew he should've felt fear, as he trudged into the semi-dark square he’d stumbled across, but the whole ordeal had left him too drained to summon even that most basic of responses. He was so utterly beat, one way or another, he hoped this to end.

An odd silhouette took shape in the darkness as he drew closer to the center of the square, it’s vague shape slowly coalesced from within the blackened fog to reveal it's pyramidal structure. Complacency and its false bravado drove him closer to make it out.

But, as his eyes acclimated to the dim light he realized the structure wasn’t solid, instead it was made of hundreds of semi-circular objects stacked one upon another. And as his mind caught up to his newly acclimated night vision, he was not for the first time that night sickened with surprise. They were skulls, all of them, of all shapes and sizes, ordered at random.

He was transfixed, paralyzed now moreso than before by the grotesque horror show he’d stumbled upon. Somewhere in the waning light he lost himself to soul searching the shallow sockets of the stacked denizens for some meaning to it all. As he stared into the empty windows of one in particular, they all awakened in a roaring inferno that lit up the courtyard. The hum that had disappeared, roared back to life with a ferocious vengeance that made every nerve cry out in agony.

The radiance of the skeletal pyre blinded him, as they glared down on him in an indignant withering fury that burnt towards the edges of his soul. Over all the sensory overload, he heard a pitiful whimper behind him that sent him spinning on his heels.

On the outer limits of his vision, was a small group of children huddled together at the edge of the square, staring at him wide eyed like he had stared at the appearance of the monster in the abyss. The hum grew angrier at his discovery, it’s rattling discord shook the ground and the sky till it was difficult to stand. The fear he’d not found before, suddenly made a resurgence in him, this time not for himself, but for these innocent souls. Wasting no time, he bolted for them, he didn’t care any longer what happened to himself. He had to save them.

On unsteady ground he marched to them as the ground turned to tar, and the oppressive darkness bore down on his shoulders like the world had upon Atlas. He was so close, so close to saving the only good thing he’d yet found here. A little girl with green eyes and a raggedy doll cried in fear as he reached out to her, his voice betrayed him again as he begged her silently to just… take... his... hand.

He heard it in the distance, a great boom bellowed forth from deep within the jowls of eternity, silencing all other noise in its wake. Like an alarm clock, the echo of it shattered the dazed trance that had held his mind, signaling the arrival of a long withheld epiphany, and he knew it carried no solace. Felt it in his bones, before he had to watch it happen in front of him. Knew now it always happened, and was always going to happen, as he braced through clinched teeth and shut eyes, before he felt the spray of dirt and unspeakable things as they peppered his body.

He didn’t look this time, didn’t dare to look again at the aftermath. But he knew…. And now he knew what was to come, and so with resignation he turned back to the blazing pyre in the center of the square. Waiting for it...waiting... for him to appear.

“Heh,” It was quiet at first, like it always was. Grating against every nerve and fiber of his being. Less a chuckle of amusement, as it was an open taunt.

“Heh.”

“Hah!”

Its twisted lanky inhuman form first appeared in the form of its phantom fingers gently caressing the edges of the pyramid of bones…No, not pyramid. It was it’s altar. It’s unnatural, unholy, sepulchre to death. He never got a good look at it, part of its power over him perhaps. He heard the creaking and popping of its joints as it started to untangle its web of limbs enough to stand.

The creature drew itself to its full height to tower over him, although it maintained its distance in much the same way the sphinx never strayed far from the pyramids. Through the murky smoke and shadows he attempted to peer into the depths of its shifting facade, as he always did, much to no avail, but there was always one feature he could just barely make out. It’s face. Twisted, deformed, and demonic, it stared at him from behind stranger eyes and an even stranger smile.

But, as strange as this stranger seemed, he knew the face. Like an old man who stares down the barrel of the memory of a younger self, there was no mistaking it. It was him, the gnarled and ugly version of his soul that still gleefully whistled it’s sardonic tune. The demon he’d courted within himself, so so long ago.

In solemn resignation he broke the staring contest to look upon the wastes with tired eyes and spirit, and much like a laborer looks upon his works with an unsatisfied exhaustion, so to did he look upon the shadows of his work and recall.

The caress in the darkness, a faint memory of twisting uncomfortable helmet straps. The pursuer he’d narrowly dodged in the darkness a soft reminder of the mortal terror of a thousand ardent escapes. The labyrinthe merely an amalgamation of all the ruins he'd beheld back when his fingers were taught to fight and his hands to war... before the arthritis of action stole away the mettle from his heart. And at the center of the ruined maze it only made sense that he’d find the children. “Wrong place, wrong time. It isn't your fault. Just doing your job.” He’d recited that line like a cyclical prayer to himself, like it would change something, anything. It was but a empty whisper to the ether, it didn’t change anything, and no matter what he thought he could do to make it right with himself and with the world, he still found himself here. And last of all, there was him, the visage in the haunted mirror.

If hell were but a word, it would be him.

Azrael, his demon of disaster, his spirit of sorrows. The smallest sliver of himself that had enjoyed the spectacle and madness of it all. Perhaps the worst of all his sins, and the one he’d never been able to reconcile with the lofty ideals he'd once held.

He stared once again into the abyssal piece he'd fought vainly to forget. Determined to see if this battle of will would amount to anything this time. And if not, then sooner or later he’d wake. Or, at least he hoped.

Until then, until then he’d stare, reflect, and wait, and reflect, and…

Where was he? That single thought...