Chain Story 2
When the Moon Doesn’t Watch
Download!Telephone Story 2
Nightmares
Download!Totally, completely, deliciously, and no doubt illegally naked, Tanya knew her clothes had to be in her car, but she had no idea where she’d left the damned thing.
She’d woken up, cold, on a grave, with no clothes and just the faintest idea of what had happened that night. She was sure she hadn’t been alone. There had been others. What she was doing with them she couldn’t remember, but it involved fire.
Standing in the middle of the cemetery’s empty car park she had no idea where to look next. She noted the approaching dawn and looked for something to cover herself with, aware that today was a school day (Tanya herself had used this cemetery as a shortcut in her youth), but the best she could find was a semi-decomposed carrier bag. It was so old it crumbled in her hands, so she abandoned that idea and headed toward the chapel.
A flash of memory struck her. She’d been in the chapel last night. She couldn’t remember why, but something felt wrong, and as she shuffled along the path, one hand covering her pert breasts and the other cupping her shaven haven, she began to feel profoundly disturbed. Something was telling her to keep away from the chapel, but something had gone down here last night and she needed to know what. She opened the door.
She felt decidedly off- even taking into consideration her lack of clothes, the taste of blood in her mouth, and her aching and reddened wrists. Perhaps she’d been drugged? Yes, that might explain why she had no memory of how she’d ended up butt-naked in the middle of a field, surrounded by angry robed men. She might have assumed it was some childish fraternity initiation ritual, were it not for the ornate silvery daggers. She’d felt a bit silly for yelling “I’M NOT AN INNOCENT VIRGIN!” before bolting. It hadn’t helped.
Surprisingly, despite her constant fumbling and sluggishness, certainly not helped by her feeble attempts at shielding herself in some form of modesty, she seemed to be putting some distance between herself and her pursuers. She had seen the church steeple some distance off, and headed for it.
Churches were supposed to help, right? Asylum! She might not exactly be in her Sunday best, but they had to help her, right? They might even have one of those imposing crusadery priests who’d vanquish them with holy water and a shotgun or something, right? Right?!
…She caught herself mid-stumble on a crooked grave marker. Ouch! It was hot. She looked up at the cloudy sky, shrugged, and reached for the door.
It was dark. It was cold. But most importantly, it was empty. She allowed herself a sigh of relief, and padded with her naked feet past the empty pews. There was just enough moonlight to see by; shapes played upon the floor as she went.
And there She was. The Virgin Mary, immortalised in a crystalline mosaic upon the far wall. She held her pale breasts and suckled her Son: the epitome of innocence. Cherubs heralded the scene.
Then In a fleeting moment, she, humble and stark naked, saw herself in the Virgin Mary. Pure, untouched; she felt she was freshly born. Whatever had happened last night, it didn’t seem to leave any scars. She felt more alive than she ever had been.
She sat down upon the pew closest to the altar. The cold wood on her thighs made shivers run up her spine. She forgot her shyness, and let her fingers run down to her sides. It was as if there was nothing to be scared of, being in such a holy place. The tapestries, the candles, the prayer cushions… they all seemed to be watching out for her. Then, unexpectedly, she slipped away into deep, peaceful sleep.
Annie stepped inside the church and the huge stained glass window immediately caught her eye. In the centre, a stereotypical angel stood tall, but for one small difference. Grasped in her arms, a baby lay crying. As Annie studied the glass, it came to life. The glass was morphing and new art was being drawn in in front of her very own eyes.
She saw her self being kidnapped, stripped and used in a sacrifice. The stained glass window showed a disagreement between her captors which gave her the opportunity to escape. The glass continued to illustrate her journey, travelling naked through fields before stumbling upon the church.
The quick moving stained glass window made Annie dizzy, and she slumped down on one of the church pews. Before long, she fell asleep, in the hope that the church would be a safe haven until a good samaritan arrived to help.
The window lit up as lightning struck the church and the boom of thunder woke Annie from her sleep. In that moment, the window revealed a figure cloaked in shadow and then Annie felt a hand upon her shoulder...
Her dreams were both stormy and calm. She did not know which parts were memories, which were visions, and which were figments of her imagination; her mind trying to reconcile events that she could not remember, or could not comprehend.
There was a child -- a newborn -- lying on a hill under a tree. A wolf entering a diner and ordering coffee. The child falling, falling, falling from a tree and landing on the wolfs back. A fire. A long hallway. A syringe. The wolf, face covered in blood, finishing a meal. And finally, a cleansing rain, ridding the child of all filth.
She awoke feeling fresh, clear, alert. Her still-naked body felt energized. It was if shackles that had once bound her had been removed. She was ready.
With two vivid images from her dream --the coffee shop near her apartment and the tree on the hill just outside town -- she at least had a direction. A purpose. She would find out what had happened the night before. The memories that were lost would be recovered.
Dressed now in the ceremonial gown of an alter boy that she found in a closet, she opened the door of the chapel and greeted the dawn.
Annie shrieked and jolted up, whirling around… and indeed ending up face-to-face with an odd cloaked figure. Her heart stopped for a moment… until the stranger stepped out of the shadows, revealing his robes as being a simple dusty black, rather than the bright crimson colour her captors had been wearing… and, to Annie’s immense relief, the man seemed to be wearing a [priesterkragen].
“Quick.” He said, holding up a plain [gown]. “There’s no time to lose. It won’t be long until someone gets the idea to check the church… not the brightest knives in the drawer, they are, but there’s a lot of them.”
The preacher turned back around, not even waiting for a response. He pointed towards a small window to the… must’ve been the south-east, Annie figured, quickly dressing herself. “Little cover there, so you’ll have to hurry before the redrobes swarm out.
Follow the stream over the fields until you see a huge tree… old farmer Brown’s dog will be probably be sniffing around there, but don’t worry, Frankie’s harmless. Take the left path, to the village; they’ll be able to help you.”
He turned back to Annie, a worried expression on his face. “This place won’t be safe much longer. Hurry.”
Mr. Shaw was convinced this would be another agreeable day. Revitalized by last night’s events, he would cope well with what most people would consider an unsettling affair; the meeting with the representative of the ethics committee. It wasn’t unsettling only because it involved bribes. It was unsettling because the bribes were so big. Enormous, even.
He looked at his wrist watch. Five to. His other hand grasped the briefcase firmly. Ten years ago he would have been much more apprehensive, but principles have a tendency to wane if you neglect them long enough. But more importantly, the activity had strengthened him immensely. It was a beautiful new nightly pastime - not for everyone involved, but for him.
Mr. Shaw confidently pushed the door open and entered the posh coffee shop. It was still an hour before lunch, so the clientele was sparse. Apart from a group of off-shift bakers that occupied a corner table, there was a young couple who said little but gave each other timid glances over the steam of ecological tea, and in the other corner - the man Mr. Shaw had come to meet - a bald beaurocrat sporting a tweed jacket and a very troubled forehead.
And just at that moment, the doors burst open. A man wearing a tuxedo stepped inside and sat his bag down on the ground.
"Darling! There you are! We have to go now. The wedding is over." He extended his hand. "It's time for our honeymoon."
Annie gathered up some of her long-white wedding dress trail in one hand and pulled back her veil with the other. She was so happy to see her husband.
She quickly strode down the aisle of the church towards the man, ready to be swept off her feet.
"ANNIE!"
She spun on her heels to face the man in the black robes.
"WHAT YOU SEE IS NOT WHAT YOU SEE!" shouted the man in black.
Her wedding dress, and all images of the wedding that never happened and the honeymoon that could not be, faded from her mind. When she turned back toward the doors, she did not see a man in a tuxedo, but a man in a crimson robe wielding a silver dagger. He pulled back his hood to reveal his face.
A face with no eyes.
A bead of sweat found its way down his head and eventually was consumed by the collar of his shirt.
Although she felt a bit uncomfortable in her attire Tanya continued her way. The fact that it was early in the morning and that it meant there weren’t that many people outside to see her made her more confident, but she had to hurry home. As she walked she was accompanied by a loud orchestra of birds singing conducted by the first beams of light.
The cemetery was adjoined by a large park. As Tanya already expected, it was deserted; a perfect concealed way to her home, the old shortcut she had visited so many times. She was on the right track but yet she felt out of place. It was as if the world had changed but she had stayed behind. Even the birds appeared to whistle a different tune. Nonetheless she felt so full of energy, it just didn’t matter that much to her.
Underway she tried to remember what had happened last night. She recalled the chapel and some sort of ceremony, a group of people standing around her in weird clothes, but they didn’t have faces.
She screamed. A lot. After that died down she paused to get up enough wind for some fresh screaming. Then she realized where she was.
On the floor, wrapped up in sheets, lying in a heap. So that had been a dream? Vaguely she wondered if that should be comforting. It would have been, if only she could remember where she was now, remember anything . . . except that field on the hill, the men in their bizarre robes and long knives . . . she could see it all in her mind, perfectly clearly. What a vivid dream. What time was it?
Philip. That's right, the wedding, that was yesterday. Philip should be here. This was their honeymoon sweet. He was supposed to be beside her. Instead she could hear him moving around, in the bathroom maybe . . . “Philip?” she called, sitting up and turning around.
The man in the crimson robe was still there.
She found she didn't have the breath to scream again, so she just gasped and stared. That face – those thin flaps where eyes should have been, that black toothed hole that looked like a crude imitation of a mouth – it was obvious.
“You're not real,” she said firmly, “and this is a dream, and I'm going to wake up, right now.”
At last, she arrived to her street. Without hesitating, she entered the coffee shop and took a look around. She immediately recognized the two men sitting in one of the corners.
One of them, the one holding a briefcase and drinking coffee, was there the night before. She didn’t know him, but something told her he was one of the faceless men. As she looked at him, an image suddenly jumped to her mind of him, lying on top of her, and holding a syringe. That image horrified her, made her almost lose her balance.
The second man, most surprisingly, was her father.
She approached them and yelled, “Dad!”
He was surprised to see her, and then surprised to see what she was wearing.
He quickly came to his senses and gave her a hug. She needed that.
“What are you doing here? What happened to you?”
Mr. Shaw saw her and shivered. She was not supposed to be here, something has obviously gone terribly wrong. She looked as though she was thinking on her own. He tried to look indifferent. It’s not over yet, she was only the backup plan in the first place. He still hasn’t offered him the money. He hoped she will not remember him…
And so she did. Again.
The room had a view over a nice garden. The importance of greenery in this kind of context wasn’t foreign to those who had designed The Alder Retreat.
She liked this room. She could have her breakfast here in privacy.
Philip sat on the bedside and massaged her shin under the duvet. The bed was folded up like a giant comfy chair, and a tray was positioned in front of her. Philip was thankful she was eating. He hated the sight of that drip-stand with the tubes and shit. Gave him the creeps.
“The doctor says you’re still having those nightmares”, he said with a certain aggitation in his voice. She nodded absently and took a bite of the apple. He went on: “I think it’s that new medicine they’re feeding you with. I mean, don’t those doctors read the Lancet?”
“Do you remember when we almost got married?” she said and smiled, as if it was an amusing anecdote. Philip stopped massaging and looked down. Then he sighed deeply and stood up.
“I’m going to have a chat with the chief of medicine of this joint. They have a chief of medicine in this cuckoo’s nest, don’t they? Everyone’s using Cerapex these days, I know these things, you know, I got contacts!”
He suddenly shivered again, as he was so lost in thoughts and only now noticed that Kalinsky and his girl were staring at him.
“Shaw, why are you so pale?”
“Is that really your concern, ya pig?!” he shouted. He didn’t care about his “role” anymore. All he wanted to do was getting the job done that he was assigned to… by the goddamn men in the cloaks… it was a matter of life and death….
He realized that he couldn’t slip into melancholy again, so he took a deep breath and emptied his beer stein. He looked into Kalinsky’s scared eyes – he obviously was starting to sense that this wasn’t about a simple deal… tears shot into his eyes. “Shaw, what’s up, seriously? I told you you’re not getting that bunch of money from me… for whatever you’re planning to do!”
Mr. Shaw stood up, kicked over his chair and ran into the restroom – the phantasies were coming back – the men in the cloaks - !
The door behind him was slammed; but it wasn’t the restrooms’ door. No, this room was made out of stone, it was the chapel, the cursed chapel where he met the faceless monks. Suddenly, the walls went foggy and something big appeared; it was the crowd, the men, the monks.
“You did not get us the young sacrifice, nor the money we need to spread our spirit across the country”, they told him in a choir-like manner, “without it, we will never get our faces back… and you won’t get your SOUL!”
“No… no”, he stuttered. “You, you can’t!!”. Then, all the fear in his heart was overshadowed by the burning hate, the hate for these living dead criminals that killed so many people just to live on theirselves. “YOU WON’T! GET BACK TO YOUR GRAVES! NO VITAE! NO VITAE!”
The scene faded before his eyes in a white glow.
And he stood up and went, leaving Annie all alone in the ward. She wondered whether she’d ever see him again… the walls were closing in on her!
“Come closer, Annie,” they taunted, oozing a noxious slime which bubbled and slipped into piles on the floor. Terrible mouths appeared like rashes, flaunting gnashing black teeth, row on row on row, as vicious as barbed wire. “Yum, yum, yum, you look gooood!” they snarled, attempting what looked like a grin, and caressing their teeth with a forked tongue. “PORK!”
Annie looked down at herself, and found she had four trotters, a tail; and would provide a delicious meal. She sqealed at the top of her piggy lungs – but she knew nobody could save her. The walls were looming. They were three times as high, and crept ever closer, closer to the bed, and the door might as well have been a hundred miles away.
The mouths were so close she could feel their hot breath on her skin, and they dripped acid as they slathered over her. They began feasting like pirahnas.
Then, something very odd happened. Annie woke again; but this time, she knew the nightmares wouldn’t trouble her anymore.