Do you need, desire or crave a new challenge? Are you open to sharing your dark side? Then read on.
Do you have a dark side?
Or, think you may have one. Or indeed worry that you might have one. Or, for that matter, worry that you don’t and would like one? If so, join me here each week for dark | side | thursday.
Over a period of 52 weeks, I am writing a story. A dark story that will unfold as the weeks pass. Each Thursday, at 13:00 UTC, I will post a new chapter. Each chapter will be exactly 500 words long, and will be accompanied by a photograph. You can catch up on the story so far by clicking here on dark | side | thursday
Share your dark side?
I invite you to join me either by writing your own dark story, week by week, or, if that is too much, by dropping by, now and then, perhaps when the mood suits you or, perhaps, when it doesn’t, and by sharing a photograph, poem or a suitably dark piece of prose. To cross over to dark | side | thursday create your post, tag it dark side thursday and link to it by clicking on the dark | side | thursday badge below, where you can also find all the contributions so far. Or you can simply share your link in the comments section of my weekly post. And, should the mood take you, you can add the badge to your post.
dark | side | thursday | twentyfive
His eyes closed.
His inert body sank below the surface of the back water, coming to rest on the submerged floor of the tomb. Face down.
Ripples splayed out on the surface of the water, enlarging concentric circles the only trace of his passage from the ground above. Soon, even those petered out. The black water still, impenetrable.
Had he been able to look up, from the place his body rested, and been able to see through the dark water, he would have seen a small whiskered face gazing down into the water below. Cold blue eyes, pupils dark slits, revealing nothing. Two clawed paws gripping the edge of the hole.
And, had he continued to look, he would have seen another pair of eyes join those of the whiskered sentinel at the portal of death. These eyes, dark, unmoving.
She stood there, the creature at her feet. The ripped white shift she wore still clinging to the curves of her body. Stained and shredded by the horrors she had suffered. Her hair ragged and dirty, pasted to her face, a face covered in the filth of the night.
She bent down, the shift rising up as she did, revealing her emaciated and bruised body. She lifted the creature up, cradling it in her hands, raised it to her lips and pressed her thin cold lips to those of her familiar. The kiss was long and deep, her body shuddered, the fur on the back of the creature erect, it’s claws digging into the soft skin of her hands.
The dark kiss ended.
She placed the creature back on the floor.
Behind her, another moved. The man in black. He moved toward the hole in the ground. Stooped, reaching toward the rough hewn boards that lay partly covering the water filled tomb. He pulled them across the hole, covering it. Blocking the light. He continued his work, placing heavy stones on the boards. Sealing the opening.
He turned to her. His lips a thin dark slash in the darkness of his face. His voice harsh, grating, “He will trouble you no more”.
She turned. Walked away.
Reaching the plot next to the stopped up hole she knelt. She lay down on the cold stone, her arms reaching out, seeking comfort in the cold stone. Her body stiff, bruised, her breast pressed hard against the harsh stone. Her empty dark eyes closed.
The man in black walked away, along the path toward the iron gates. He did not turn back. He did not touch her, did not speak to her. Walked away. Walked toward the waiting red tram. The bell rang three times, the door opened. He climbed aboard. The door slammed shut. The tram moved away slowly.
It was dark. So cold. So very cold. His eyes opened. He saw nothing. He was soaking wet. Feeling returning to his aching fingers and arms. He reached out. Fingers clawing along the cold floor.
His fingers touched metal. A key.
The portal to dark | side | thursday opened on the twenty first day of may in the year twenty hundred and fifteen and will remain open for fifty two weeks.
twentyfive | fiftytwo