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 | twentyone

The voice filled his mind, throbbing, pulsating, the words torturing his soul, as his eyes burned.

The voice continued, pleading and crying out.

‘Only you can stop the pain. Don’t leave me out in the cold. Don’t leave me out to die’^⁠1

The creature at his feet circled as he stood transfixed, head splitting, tears running unheeded from the corners of his reddened eyes. He felt the creature brush against him, a shiver running down his spine as it gazed up at him, sparkling blue eyes unblinking, its tail curling around his ankle as its purring mixed with the noise in his head.

Then the noise stopped. Abruptly. The faceless stone figure stood still, staring into his tear-streaked face inside the bubble. The voice had gone now, all he could hear was air hissing inside his helmet. And his breathing, which was thready. Like the erratic beating of his heart. The pain in his arm returning, searing up toward his shoulder, taking his breath away.

He moved painfully toward the stone figure, reached out his hand and with his fingers traced the cold stone face. As he did so he felt a vibration within the stone. A vibration that seemed to stem from the very heart of the stone figure, from its cold and silent heart.

The stone began to shake and tremble. And again he heard a voice in his head.

This time a voice he knew, and one that he had believed he would never hear again.

“Don’t let him, don’t let him take it, not now, it’s so close. Please…hear me…”

Words he had heard before. Her words. The words of a dead woman. A dead woman he had loved. A dead woman he had hurt. A woman whose body he had held in his arms until he had dropped her out of exhaustion at his feet. A woman whose shade had appeared to stand before him, her hand enclosed in that of the man in black. Her eyes cold and lacking in feeling as they gazed at him, as he had sat broken and in despair on the cold hard floor of that terrible chamber.

Her voice faded away again.

His pulse was racing, his breathing erratic. As he looked at the face of the stone figure it seemed to swirl in front of him, the blank face changing, features seeming to rise from the cold stone.

It was her face.

Without thinking he tore the bubble away from his face. Stepped toward the stone figure. Her eyes seemed to be emerging from the cold stone, her eyes and the soft gentle curve of her moist lips. His eyes closed, he felt those warm lips gently touch his, pull away quickly, then touch again harder. He moved his arms around the stone figure, feeling her soft warm body as it pressed against his. Their lips touching again, he pulled her tight against him.

And then, the chamber filled with the harsh clanging of bells.

¹ Lyrics from Dead Inside, by Muse

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.

twentyone | fiftytwo

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 | twenty

As the helmet tightened around his head he felt light-headed for a moment. He could hear a low hissing sound as air circulated inside the transparent bubble that encased him. And yet, still he sensed a whisper of warm spring air, although somewhere deeper a chill permeated his body. He shivered.

The ground beneath his feet was unforgiving, hard grey stone cobbles lined the large square. He slowly turned his head, taking in his new surroundings.  The square sloped gently downhill, at its centre a large building with a tall tower, at the base of the tower, an ornate clock stood marking the passage of time, strange figures marching to its unearthly beat. Impassive faces, contorted figures, bodies bent out of shape.

Surrounding the square stood rows of ornate buildings, their facades brightly coloured, yellow, pink, orange. Empty windows gazing across an equally empty space.

And, that is when he realised.

He was alone.

The large square was empty. The sun was high in the sky. And yet, the terraces, the tables, the bars and cafes that were scattered around and across the square were empty. Quiet. Lifeless.

There was no sound, only the hissing susurration of the air inside his helmet.

At his feet, the creature. It looked up at him, large sparkling blue eyes. Left eye slightly closed, blinking as if if something had irritated it. The creature snaked around his ankles and then darted away across the square.

It ran towards the pillar that rose from the lower part of the square. A dark structure, rising up to the blue sky, at its base stone carved bodies twisted in pain struggled to be free from some terror, a pit of despair.

He followed.

And still, there was silence. Not a movement. Not a sound.

The creature had stopped at the base of the pillar, an iron door, sealed tight, blocked its path.

Sliding his hand in his pocket he once more found the key, the same key he had last used when he opened the casket, the casket that had contained her lifeless body.

Once more he felt the key slide deep into the oiled slot in the door, felt it vibrate as it turned, felt the mechanism groan as it responded, and opened.

He reached out and pushed the door inwards, the creature shot through the crack as it widened, a dark mewling sound spilling from its throat, its tail still, tense.

The air inside his bubble turned colder, the hissing intensified. Ahead of him a stone staircase ascended, the steps worn and marked with the years. The walls dark, dripping.

He stepped on to the first step, and began to ascend.

The staircase spiralled around the inside of the pillar. There were no windows.

Exhausted, he reached the summit.

A circular chamber, and there, once more stood the stone faceless figure.

As he gazed at the impassive face, the creature at his feet.

He heard the figure’s voice. Inside his mind.

“You’re dead inside”

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.

twenty | fiftytwo

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 | nineteen

The creature had spat in his face.

He had expected pain, disgust, horror.

But no. A colourless, odourless liquid covered his face, his entire face, much like a cellophane wrapping around fresh food. The liquid film stretched and formed an impervious helmet around his head. Yet still he could breathe. That terrible smell of dark dead things replaced by what seemed to be a whisper of warm spring air.

This was not at all what he had anticipated.  He had been filled with dread.

The creature had transformed.

Its movements had become less frenetic. Its breathing stable, calm. The eyes had cleared, the black viscous fluid no more. The creature’s eyes were a vivid deep blue, shifting, sparkling, full of mischievous intent, feline pupils enlarging as it gazed up at him. The terrible desperate croaking sound had also gone. Replaced by a soft, low pitched growling purr. The dark matted fur had transformed into a sleek tawny coating, soft to the touch. The hideous claws now tucked away out of sight as the creature rolled over in his lap and sensuously stretched its limbs, now sleek, poised, ready.

In one swift leap the creature sprang into the air and landed deftly on its four paws, walked a short distance away from him and turned its head at an angle, looked him in the eye and purred seductively before turning and walking towards the wall at the far side of the chamber.

Not knowing what to do, what to expect, he pulled himself up and followed the creature which now stood with its nose pressed against the dark wall. He saw the creature become one with the wall, or at least seeming to pass into the wall, disappearing as it did so, until with a last flick of its tail it was gone.

He approached the wall, aching for one more sharp shot of slivovitz to warm his belly, and placed the palm of his left hand against the space on the wall where the creature had vanished moments before. He felt a deep shock, as if he had touched a live wire, and felt his arm being pulled against and then sucked into the wall. Terror threatened to engulf him as the wall seemed to devour his body, his face pressed against the stone, protected by the strange helmet that covered his head.

With a sickening feeling much like that when a lift suddenly plummets down, he fell through and into a dark place.

He was floating, the creatures clear blue eyes the only thing he could see for now.

As his eyes grew accustomed he saw bright points of light above and around him. And below he began to make out the lines of a city, streets leading to a square, a large building with a clock tower at its centre. And to the right, a pillar rising from the cobbles of the square. He felt himself dragged down toward that place.

He felt the helmet around his head tighten as his feet touched solid ground.

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.

nineteen | fiftytwo