All works on the blog "Castlevania: HeXeD Generation" are of the sole property of Matthew Sparks-Freemont and cannot be copied, written, transmitted in part or entirety, released or used for personal use/gain without the expressed written and oral consent of myself. Exhibition of these works without my oral and written concent is prohibited. "Castlevania", the characters, themes, and any items relating to "Castlevania" are either registered trademarks or trademarks of Konami Corporation.
Chapter 2: Kandace
This is so boring, thought the young lady as she dressed for tonight's festivities. Her family always comes here every fall to visit the family estate but she’s been here so many times that at times she wishes she’d just stayed home. The only bright spot to every trip down south was that New Orleans was so close. Even tonight as she looked out her window on the estate she could see the bright lights of the Big Easy. On warm quite nights like theses one could say that even the sounds of the city could be heard from this far out into the inner country.
She recalls the stories her family speaks of on how her ancestors originally immigrated here back in the 1800 and create this fine estate in honor of the family name. The name itself she wasn’t well known with. Be it of French or Spanish decent she wasn’t sure. All she knows is that she has the look and style of that bygone age. When she was little she had fallen in love with the estate and the nearby city. At times she even felt that she originally belong here, given how strange and eccentric she was. Her skin white and smooth like any ageless beauty from that bygone era. The only difference that stuck out was that her hair was a naturally waviness that would find it hard pressed to be styled into anything that required the Victorian straight hair. Even now as she began to dress for the family evening ball, she finds herself interested in the Victorian era dresses that happen to be in the closet of the room she made as her resting place. She’d always seen them either being worn by other family members or in their original resting places. They’d been tended to and handed down by the generations before he she was told. She remembered how she hoped to one day wear such clothing during the family ball.
Now it was her turn to wear the family cloth.
But she couldn’t decide what to wear.
Despite her turning of age she still wasn’t comfortable wearing skirts. Back in the days of her catholic school youth, she never got use to wearing those school outfits. Some might’ve found them cute and seductive but she just found them being a pain. In the end she felt the compulsion to wear a nice light purple colored Victorian top with frills around the chest area. Since the top was only that and not the fittings for a full dress she decide to go with her usual garb for the evening consisting of black jeans, black shoes that would have gone well with her former school outfit and a red jacket with sleeves that reached her wrists and body length that hit her at the slimness of her waist. Checking herself out in the mirror she say she struck a lovely figure. Being a former member of her schools sprint team, her legs were slim and firm. She had the hips of a fast sprinter and the waist to prove it. The only pronounced feature in her proportions would be her breast size. Something that was not the norm for a good sprinter. Even now she saw that the top made the most of her breasts and showed much of her cleavage along with the silver cross that rested there.
Let them stare she thought as she gave one final tug on her jacket. She normally didn’t wear make up and decided tonight would be no different. As she made her way down the spiral staircase to the ballroom in the estate, she spied the members of her extended family along with various friends of the family, city officials and servants. Like the setting of the house, everyone was decked out in Victorian garb. Many were ill-suited to the look while others excelled in such finery. She noticed that many of her cousins and their friends gave her a long, drinking glance to her looks. She tossed her hair to the side in a flirty gesture as she made her way down the stairs. Once on ground level she took a tall class of the families wine stocks and took a sip.
Turning 21 had it’s advantages.
During the night she mingled with the rest of her family. She shook many a hand as was kissed many a time on the cheek and back of hand. She got many glances from the opposite sex and was offered many phone numbers to that benefit. Being she wasn’t officially attached to anyone in particular it was fun to see how many men would come to her like moths to a flame. She even got a marriage proposal from a unblooded relative. As the night progressed and the string orchestra continued to carry the night, the party moved out onto the veranda and the estate grounds. there a feast was laid out for the family along with tables and chairs for their benefit. The wine ran freely and the party continued in earnest. Eat, drink and be happy seemed to be the mantra for this evening. For everyone enjoyed the evening’s festivities. The young woman wined and dined with the rest of her family. Dance with many a young man and showed a keen in very few of them. Some were nice and wholesome enough to be with in a night’s pleasure but for the most part of the evening she was not interesting.
Oddly enough she was interested in a blond girl that she caught glimpses of during the entire night. She was the same Victoria garb like the rest of the family but given her blonde hair she stuck out. Mores with her light complexion and huge eyes. But unlike the rest of the family and their co-horts this mysterious woman wore her outfit very well. As if she was born to wear such fittings. Off and on she’d see this girl during the night. And every time she’d try to go and see this beautiful stranger, someone would always get in the way in form of introduction or request of a dance. In the beginning she’d be the proper daughter to her father’s family but as the night passed by and she caught glimpse of this woman, she began to feel as if this girl was teasing her. She’d inquire from other family members on who she was but they would always reply the same. That they knew not of any blond or where she came from. Given their perspective they saw nothing of this girl. Off and on she’s see her in the night but it wasn’t till around midnight that this young woman decide to put an end to this blond stalker.
As the party continued around her, she made her way to the blond who happened to be at the edge of the estate. She had her back to her, looking toward the dense foliage that was the swamp. without looking back, the blond began to walk into this no mans land. Anyone in their right mind at the time wouldn’t have considered going out into the swamp at night, but this young woman wasn’t about to be scared off by the topography of the estate to let this mysterious woman get away. Plus, unlike this mysterious woman who happened to be wearing a short skirt, she had been wearing black jeans and comfortable shoes. Making her trek into the swamp not as uncomfortable as one would think.
Deeper the blond would go into the swamp, finding paths in the way that not even the young woman herself would be able to see if not for keeping an eye on this blond. As the young woman continued her chase, she hardly noticed that the noise of the party grew quieter and quieter till all she could hear was her breathing and the wildlife of the swamp. She was lucky she didn’t fall into any bodies of water or happen upon a sleeping alligator. The only wildlife she saw was the dragonflies illuminated by the scores of fireflies that drifted lazily along her path. Before the young woman realized things had gotten out of control she found herself hopelessly lost. Everywhere she looked she saw nothing but swampland and more swampland. She couldn’t hear nor see the estate or the party let alone the blond she was chasing after. Without any other idea on where to go she continued in the path she thought she saw the blond last till finally she emerged from the swamp into a small clearing.
In the middle of the clearing she finally saw the blond. She was standing still among a clearing of oddly shaped stones. She appeared to be standing next to a particular stone but gave little attention to the young woman's arrival. the young woman made a step forward and ended up stubbing her toe against a small stone that lay hidden in the weeds. She was about to bend down to pick it up when she realize that it wasn’t your ordinary stone she had stubbed her foot on.
It was a grave marker.
The young woman had stumbled onto a graveyard.
How could this be she thought to herself. Graveyards were somewhat uncommon in this region of the country, given how New Orleans and the estate were located below the water table. Yet here she stood among a sea of headstones, some looking as old as time itself.
Swamp fog began to gather.
As the young woman made her way toward the blond, her mind kept racing over the situation. If this was indeed a grave yard, how did it survive? Surely the spring swamp floods and the rainstorms would’ve washed it out centuries ago. But the more she wandered toward her objective, the more the impossible looked all the more possible. She felt she was trending on hallowed ground, the thumping of her heart hit up against the silver cross that lay across her breast. She did her best to keep an eye on the blond at the grave marker but had to look down every now and then to ensure she didn’t trip and break her neck over one of those mysterious death markers. this whole situation seemed so unreal and being that of a dream. Even the fog began to build in mass as she approached her quarry. She had been too busy trying to watch her step that she did not realize to look up for the blond. When she did this she found that she had vanished! What the hell thought the young woman. How could the blond just disappear. She started to look around to see if she left anything behind but the damned fog started to get in the way. What started out as a fine mist started to become that of pea soup, thick and heavy. By luck or chance she saw the fog break long enough to see the ground.
There remained two dainty footprints next to a tombstone.
They were not footprints left by her feet for the tread was not like those of her shoes. But that didn’t explain where the blond went. Did she fly away? As she went down on one knee to examine the footprints, her eye trailed to the tombstone next to it. It had much grime on it but she could make out a few words thanks to the moonlight. Here is said “Lecarde” and below it something about being a “killer”. The young woman brushed her hand over the wordings in hopes of reading more. but only found the stone smeared with a dark coloring after she ran her hand over it. How odd she thought, it wasn’t cold to the touch but warm. Almost hot and slick with life. As the fog gather ever thicker, moonlight began to shine through the opening. The moonlight made the smear on the tombstone all the more stark and black. As she looked closer at the mark she noticed it didn’t have the strong odor of moss or anything decaying. IF anything it smelled more coppery and like that of spilled...
The young woman realized what she saw was blood. She quickly backed away as the flog engulfed the tombstone. She tried to wipe what remained of the blood on her jeans but only found that more came to take it’s place in the palm of her hands. She looked at her other hand to see in horror that blood we seeping out of the middle of her hand.
Both of her hands were bleeding.
“Stigmata!” the young woman thought. She had read about it back in school but she never thought she’d see the day such happening to her. Tried as she might to rid herself of the bleeding, no matter were she wiped it off on her jeans, it welled back up in the middle of her hands till it started to spill over. Her very own life fountain in the palms of her hands. She looked around to find if anyone was around only to see that the fog had completely overtaken the clearing, the moon shining brightly in the darkness. Then suddenly she heard something come all round here. It started to engulf her much like how the fog was trying to. It came out low and soft at first, like a chuckle, but as time passed it grew in volume and crested to that of a sinister laugh. It was as if the very wind picked up and decided to sound like the cackling of a very wicked person. A person who had promises of evil toward you, a person who was going to take the very life from you.
Your very soul.
The young woman did not stay around long to allow the laughter to overtake her and drive her mad. She put her sprinter’s training into action and began to run from the clearing. She did not know where she was to run to or where but she knew that she had to get away from IT before it came for her and took her away. She almost tripped on three stone markers on her way from the clearing but she quickly gained her footing and continued her mad dash away from insanity. She felt the blood on her hands running freely and dropping in huge, wet, drops as she ran. She didn’t understand it but she felt a lingering presence chasing her as she tried to run away. She knew not if it was the blonde or something far more sinister but she knew if she stopped and faced it should most surely die.
she feared she’d lose her very soul.
She knew this evil before, she once sought after it to serve it’s wicked designs. But from the abyss she climbed out and found the path of righteousness. Only now the very thing she sought for in that abyss was right behind her, gaining ground, and had every intention of taking her back into the shadow. As she sprinted thru the swamp, she felt this presence about to overtake her, she screamed.
One moment she thought she was done for, then the next she found herself punching thru the foliage and found herself back on the family estate. She accidentally ran into one of the servants and he dropped his contents onto the ground with crystalline crashes and silver metals resounding. Everyone and everyone that was nearby rushed to the young woman's aid. She tried to get up but found herself being helped up by several of the men in the party. When she fought herself of off them she looked around to make sure she was back on the home grounds.
The presence that was behind her was gone.
She looked around to see if she was infact where she was suppose to be and all she found looking at her back was the eyes of family and relatives. Her father came and gave her the once over. He noticed that she was dirty and sweaty but other than the wide eyed look of shock, she appeared okay. The young woman was not sure if she should tell anyone about what she just experienced, if it had been anything but weird dream or perhaps she had too much to drink. She remembered about her hands and looked down only to find that there was no blood on them. The only thing there was some dirt and grass stains.
But she had seen blood coming out, hadn't see?
Her father called for some of the male members to help her daughter into the house and to her room. The men noticed that there was a slight tremble to the young woman's frame but thought best not to say anything about it. Out wandering the grounds at night I suppose said one of the older family members. With that topic touched off the stories and the folktales of haunted plantations and ghosts apparitions. that’s what the young woman heard all talk about as she was helped back to her room. Two of the men were nice enough to see her to her room and she did notice that one of them was more than interested in joining her there later in the night.
She ignored them and quickly locked the door once she was inside. The young woman didn’t know what to make out what had just happened. She knew she saw something out in the swamp that night but it all felt so vague and unreal. Even now she started to forget the words she read on the tombstone.
“Lecarde”
“Killer”
What did this all mean?
She decided some fresh air was something she needed right now so she opened up the window to let the breeze in. As she turned her back to the window to begin undressing she stopped. Suddenly, she felt that someone was watching her from behind. Figuring it was probably one of the younger men trying to catch a peak of her she whirled around in hopes of catching them off guard. But she saw instead made her blood run cold.
hanging in the view of the window was the moon. The very moon that shined it’s gilding light to the words and the tombstone in the unknown graveyard. But before her very eyes she saw it turn blood red. Just like how the blood off her hands dripped away, the redness overtook it like as if blood was being pored over it.
She knew it was her blood on that moon this night.
And with that image returned the sinister laughter.
The young woman knew she had done many stupid things in her youth, but she never realized that those actions would one day come in this form. Chasing the forbidden knowledge was indeed a double edge sword. And now she has found herself pierced straight thru with it.
All was quite as she saw this hellish image and laughter that could only come from the bowels of hell. At that every moment, Kandace Lestriss Boveairx, was in fear for her very soul....
Sunday, August 27, 2006
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Chapter 1: Stephen
All works on the blog "Castlevania: HeXeD Generation" are of the sole property of Matthew Sparks-Freemont and cannot be copied, written, transmitted in part or entirety, released or used for personal use/gain without the expressed written and oral consent of myself. Exhibition of these works without my oral and written concent is prohibited. "Castlevania", the characters, themes, and any items relating to "Castlevania" are either registered trademarks or trademarks of Konami Corporation.
Under the backdrop of any major city in the United States of America, one would see the setting of a coffee shop as a typical feature in any city landscape. In the year 1999, they would be considered a commonplace despite the rise of the ever growing Starbucks coffee chains. Even so, around any city if you look hard enough, you can find a independent run coffee shop here and there. In this case of the city Lincoln, Nebraska, Most try to have the classic look or some even try to be the urber-culture style. Then there are the types of coffee shops that look so run down and smoke filled that you’d accidentally mistaken them for crack houses. It’s not the fault of the owners, it’s just the feel that they try to convey...
In this particular coffee shop the walls have peeling wallpaper that was used to hide the speckled sky blue paint that was hastily used to try to add some color to the concrete walls. Most of the tables and chairs were mismatched. Some of them no more than park benches and tables. Others could’ve come from any home in this big city. But like it can be said, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. And the charm of this coffee shop had more to do with the customers than the surroundings. It was almost run like a late night diner. It was a place were teens and generation Xers could come if they had the need for a cup of coffee. A place were they could unwind and play a card game or use one of the tables for their college studies. Some use it to just get away from the hectic world they live around. But then there are those that just come by and take in the atmosphere. The coffee shop wasn’t much to look at but it had character...
The young man sitting at one of these mismatched tables was doing just that as he slowly sipped at this hot coffee. He had just got off his nightshift job as a pizza delivery boy and by all rights should be in bed right at this moment. But once again, as was the case for the past two weeks, sleep was evading him. Since he didn’t feel the need to head back to his apartment just yet, the young man decided to stop by his favorite place and have a cup of joe as he watched the world pass him by. Normally he might see a familiar face or two in the night. But tonight of most auspicious nights he was among strangers. Being in the mood not to make friends, he continues to sip his coffee alone and allowed for his mind to aimlessly wander. But instead of his mind setting the track on wondering what he will do tomorrow and when he should call that cute blonde, he found himself thinking about his past and how he found himself here in the city of Lincoln, Nebraska.
A country boy by birth, he spent most of his time out in the fields or in the rural landscape. He went to school in the nearest town and graduated without any problems. It wasn’t till after high school be began to feel out of place. He was told such would be the case, by his high school counselor, when the normal patterns of his life would fall apart and he would have to make the life choices in the coming years.
He figured that he should do what most others do in his class and head off to college. So he filed the papers and found himself in the big city, ready to take on what college would throw at him. But once here, he found college not all it was cracked up to be. Sure the classes were no problem but the atmosphere and the setting was all wrong to him. He felt so alien there and wrong that he resigned his enrollment in the allotted cutoff date. From there he just did the actions that most would have to do just to survive in the city. He got an apartment, a job, and what would give him a modest lifestyle. He might look out of place with his blue jeans and t-shirt with a unbutton collar shirt, amongst the designer clothing crowd of his generation. But like he said to himself, he’s a farm boy: you can take the farm boy to a city but you can’t take the farm out of him.
He once again thought about his past and all that made him the man he was today. It’s a train of thought he normally didn’t like to progress given his feeling. Every time he thinks about such, he feels there is something missing. That he was meant to have a purpose in life. He remembers his mother and father, his mother a Christian with strong convictions that her children would receive some form of religious upbringing. the cross underneath his t-shirt was proof of her parental skills. But his father, he remembers how he was a tough man. He could remember all he did in his life about seeing his dad out in the fields, working on cars, working the tough job and the back breaking labor. And never once did he break stride, it was his element. Not only could he do the normal white collar job but he had the sharp mind to do any blue collar workload. He never understood why he chose the hard road than the easy one. It wasn’t till the year he was graduating that his father told him he did such work because at the time there was no other means of employment. “and it keeps a man humble” he also remembered. Though some would say he didn’t have much of a tolerance for the religion. He knew that his father believed just as much as his mother did.
The only mystery that this young man knew about his father was were exactly came from. Mom spoke little on how they met and the circumstances of their encounter. As for dad’s ancestors he was just as perplexed as the rest of his brothers and sisters. He thought one day he’d do one of those internet searches to find out his dad’s ancestral past but he never got around to it. He knew that his father was originally from Texas but before then was anyone’s guess. Even when he asked his father about that, dad would always clam up or say that he’d tell him later. For the life of him, he thought that perhaps dad did some horrible crime and he was trying to hide away from it. But as the years passed and this young man grew to full manhood, he got the feeling that dad wasn’t running away from something but trying to keep some burden from others. If not to allow them to have to carry such in the known future...
He remembers how his father wanted him to grow up strong and proud of his family. Proud to be apart of such a big and God believing family, and to be strong to protect those that you care about so much. The strong statement was what made such an impact on him. Throughout high school he did his all to work out and play the roughest sports he was able to. By the end of his years in high school he had the legs of a runner, the body of a quarterback, and the brains of any math major.
A far cry from his skinny puberty years.
Perhaps he should’ve joined the army. They could’ve used him and his skills. Especially after the war in Iraq and the policing actions US forces were involved with in Kosovo. But instead of listening to the recruiters, he went the way of college, and is where he is today. At a glance one would say that he was living a full life. At age 21, he was on his way to make his mark in life. the only question for himself was “what mark”? To be honest he felt rather lost on what to do next. He knew there was indeed more to life than hanging out with friends, working his job and going home to an empty apartment. He certain wasn’t interesting in making his life more complicated by getting married to some woman and having babies with her just for having sake. He didn’t feel that the time was right to settle down yet, that something was left unfinished.
He couldn’t explain it but the lack of interest in sleep these past two weeks gave him the feeling of pending dread. It was bad enough that before the two weeks he would be haunted by nightmares he could not remember. That something was slowly creeping itself out of the shadows and was ready to not only pounce on him but on all that he held dear. He remembered what his father said about being strong to protect those he held most dear. Why did he always come back to that? Even now he reaches for his cross under his shirt without a second moments thought. What was this shadow that was coming for him and those he cared for? He sure wasn’t buying into this Y2K scare that everyone was talking about. Sure it was the middle of October but the technical community had two more months to tend to this pending disaster. They’d know about it since the beginning of 1999. So the only ones foolish enough to think the world was going to end were the doomsdayers and those that were buying bunkers out in the middle of no where to protect themselves from the hordes of hungry and crazed people once they learned that their PC’s and cell phones stopped functioning. Even that made for TV movie was a joke!
So then what was it of all nights that was keeping him on edge? He did his best not to let the darkness and the shadows of the night get the best of him. They were just ghost stories, things didn’t exist in the darkness. Despite his believes, there was nothing to fear from night, was there?
All of a sudden, he began to feel a creeping foreboding enter the coffee shop. He didn’t dare turn around, giving what this feeling was the pleasure of rattling him. He couldn’t explain it but it felt that something was filling the room though there was no one else around besides the few people in this night. The dread slowly began to build and start to consume the young man. He found it harder and harder to breathe. He did his best not to look panicked but a cute blonde haired waitress wearing a shirt skirt noticed his wide-eyed appearance. He became aware of the fine sheen of sweat starting to build on his lower lip and the hairs on the back of his neck standing up on end. If he was lucky the waitress might mistake him as some burned out junkie. But the outfit he wore and the stylish goatee gave only the impression that he was not the type to fall the sway of any designer drug.
The young man’s chest started to hurt so he gripped the front of his shirt. Immediately the foreboding started to subside. He didn’t realize that he had accidentally brushed up against the cross his mother had given him on his graduation. He immediately grab the cross thru the fabric and began to recite the Lord’s prayer. With every sentence, the darkness began to recede. When finished with the prayer, it had left altogether. Others in the coffee shop began to take notice of the young man gripping his shirt as if he was having a panic attack. “Are you alright sir?” asked the blonde haired waitress. It wasn’t till she spoke that the young man finally took notice of the waitress. She wasn’t the norm with the other girls around here. Her outfit had an outdated, late Victorian look and her face was that of an ageless beauty. Her eyes had the odd rim of darkness around them yet her eyes themselves sparked with the knowledge of ages.
A Goth thought the young man. A very smart one or one on some drug. He nodded to her and said he was well, he just didn’t feel well all of a sudden. “I hope it wasn’t from the coffee good sir.” she answered. “Here, have one on the house.” she said as she placed a fresh cup in front of him. He nodded his thanks and she answered with a wink as she walked back toward the counter. That was the most oddest of situations to be in he thought as he picked up the fresh coffee to take a sip. Perhaps there was something to his upbringing than he realized. He watched the skylight as he took a sip from the coffee before him. Something was wrong he noticed, the coffee had an odd taste to it. It wasn’t one of the house’s normal blends, it had a sort of coppery taste. Almost like sucking on a dirty penny but with a more liquid quality....
The young man violently spit out the coffee and watched it stain the table before him.
The stains were that of blood.
The young man dropped the cup and quickly jumped out of his chair. The sound of it’s falling made everyone look up at him. The young man stared aghast as he saw the spilled contents of the vile drink stain the table as it poured out of it’s cup. Then the most wicked thing happened: the young man saw the cup reposition itself to the sitting position on it’s own accord and begin to overflow. Soon a small fountain of blood was coming out of the cup and began to flow over the table. It bubbled and ran like some twisted gothic horror movie special effect. He couldn’t keep his eyes off it as he saw the blood begin to cover the table, overflow off the edge and begin to pool on the floor. He ran his fingers over his lips and goatee only to see the blood upon his fingers. He looked down his shirt and saw the blood splattered on his clothing. He felt the sticky ooze of it matt itself on his skin. He felt it stick itself onto his cross.
He looked away from the horrid image and glanced to all that was watching him. He wanted to yell and ask what the hell was going on. If they all saw what he saw. But they only looked back at him with confusion, and some mild amusement, in their eyes. Anger started to build inside this young man and was about to demand who’s idea of a sick idea of a joke this was but when he looked back at his table and his fountain of horror, it was gone. All it showed was his overturned cup of coffee now started to leave a dark puddle on the table. He placed his fingers to his mouth and goatee again but it came back stained this time with nothing but coffee. But the blood taste was still in his mouth. He did his best not to retch as he wiped the coffee off his lips. He looked himself over and saw his clothes not stained with blood as he first felt but with that of the coffee he now saw at the table.
Yet he still tasted blood.
What was going on?
Suddenly, he remembered the strange waitress that served him the very cup of death. Others in the coffee shop began to come toward him to see if he was alright. He even noticed a few patrons beginning to pull out joints thinking as if he was a junky in need of a fix. Before they could come to him, he made a mad dash to the counter and demanded to know where the blonde waitress was for she had much to explain to.
“Look at this place,” said the owner. “Does it look like I have the money to hire a waitress to serve you all? Let alone some cute blonde?” Before the young man could ask another question, he caught a glimpse of the very woman that served him the drink, walk by the store window. It was only a fleeting glance but he knew at once it was her. Like how a hungry man chases after a stole crumb of bread, he ran out of the store and onto the sidewalk.
But the sidewalk was empty.
Not just empty in general of any people. It was as if the entire street decided to die out. No cars, no sounds, no birds, or night activity. The only noise to be heard was the light hum of the street lamps. The young man felt warm along the front of his body and looked down to see that his shirt was once again stained with blood.
I’m loosing my mind, thought the young man.
Then for some odd sense of dread, as if he was being watched, he had the sudden urge to turn around and look up toward the sky. What he say made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up once more. Before him he saw the moon, full and round like any moon would be during the fall season. What made him think he was seeing things was when the moon began to turn blood red before his very eyes. Like the slow spilling of the blood on the table back at the coffee house, he saw the blood drip over the moon’s white glow to turn into a hellish red. The young man stood there and bared witness to this evil omen. Instantly he grabbed for his cross and squeeze it tight in his palm when he heard the light, sinister sound of laughter.
He knew not what to make of all of this at first. The blonde, the feeling of dread, the sleepless nights over two weeks, the elusive nightmares, the blood...
All he knew was that something’s not right in the world. That some sense of evil was beginning to stir. And the only one to notice it this very night was him. He once again thought of what his father had told him once more. About how he must become strong to protect all things he held most dear. Gripping his cross, he looks again to the blood red moon that made itself known only to him. At that moment he sensed a bit of that purpose in life that he was sure he was missing.
That night, Stephen Simmons Corn, faced his destiny....
Under the backdrop of any major city in the United States of America, one would see the setting of a coffee shop as a typical feature in any city landscape. In the year 1999, they would be considered a commonplace despite the rise of the ever growing Starbucks coffee chains. Even so, around any city if you look hard enough, you can find a independent run coffee shop here and there. In this case of the city Lincoln, Nebraska, Most try to have the classic look or some even try to be the urber-culture style. Then there are the types of coffee shops that look so run down and smoke filled that you’d accidentally mistaken them for crack houses. It’s not the fault of the owners, it’s just the feel that they try to convey...
In this particular coffee shop the walls have peeling wallpaper that was used to hide the speckled sky blue paint that was hastily used to try to add some color to the concrete walls. Most of the tables and chairs were mismatched. Some of them no more than park benches and tables. Others could’ve come from any home in this big city. But like it can be said, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. And the charm of this coffee shop had more to do with the customers than the surroundings. It was almost run like a late night diner. It was a place were teens and generation Xers could come if they had the need for a cup of coffee. A place were they could unwind and play a card game or use one of the tables for their college studies. Some use it to just get away from the hectic world they live around. But then there are those that just come by and take in the atmosphere. The coffee shop wasn’t much to look at but it had character...
The young man sitting at one of these mismatched tables was doing just that as he slowly sipped at this hot coffee. He had just got off his nightshift job as a pizza delivery boy and by all rights should be in bed right at this moment. But once again, as was the case for the past two weeks, sleep was evading him. Since he didn’t feel the need to head back to his apartment just yet, the young man decided to stop by his favorite place and have a cup of joe as he watched the world pass him by. Normally he might see a familiar face or two in the night. But tonight of most auspicious nights he was among strangers. Being in the mood not to make friends, he continues to sip his coffee alone and allowed for his mind to aimlessly wander. But instead of his mind setting the track on wondering what he will do tomorrow and when he should call that cute blonde, he found himself thinking about his past and how he found himself here in the city of Lincoln, Nebraska.
A country boy by birth, he spent most of his time out in the fields or in the rural landscape. He went to school in the nearest town and graduated without any problems. It wasn’t till after high school be began to feel out of place. He was told such would be the case, by his high school counselor, when the normal patterns of his life would fall apart and he would have to make the life choices in the coming years.
He figured that he should do what most others do in his class and head off to college. So he filed the papers and found himself in the big city, ready to take on what college would throw at him. But once here, he found college not all it was cracked up to be. Sure the classes were no problem but the atmosphere and the setting was all wrong to him. He felt so alien there and wrong that he resigned his enrollment in the allotted cutoff date. From there he just did the actions that most would have to do just to survive in the city. He got an apartment, a job, and what would give him a modest lifestyle. He might look out of place with his blue jeans and t-shirt with a unbutton collar shirt, amongst the designer clothing crowd of his generation. But like he said to himself, he’s a farm boy: you can take the farm boy to a city but you can’t take the farm out of him.
He once again thought about his past and all that made him the man he was today. It’s a train of thought he normally didn’t like to progress given his feeling. Every time he thinks about such, he feels there is something missing. That he was meant to have a purpose in life. He remembers his mother and father, his mother a Christian with strong convictions that her children would receive some form of religious upbringing. the cross underneath his t-shirt was proof of her parental skills. But his father, he remembers how he was a tough man. He could remember all he did in his life about seeing his dad out in the fields, working on cars, working the tough job and the back breaking labor. And never once did he break stride, it was his element. Not only could he do the normal white collar job but he had the sharp mind to do any blue collar workload. He never understood why he chose the hard road than the easy one. It wasn’t till the year he was graduating that his father told him he did such work because at the time there was no other means of employment. “and it keeps a man humble” he also remembered. Though some would say he didn’t have much of a tolerance for the religion. He knew that his father believed just as much as his mother did.
The only mystery that this young man knew about his father was were exactly came from. Mom spoke little on how they met and the circumstances of their encounter. As for dad’s ancestors he was just as perplexed as the rest of his brothers and sisters. He thought one day he’d do one of those internet searches to find out his dad’s ancestral past but he never got around to it. He knew that his father was originally from Texas but before then was anyone’s guess. Even when he asked his father about that, dad would always clam up or say that he’d tell him later. For the life of him, he thought that perhaps dad did some horrible crime and he was trying to hide away from it. But as the years passed and this young man grew to full manhood, he got the feeling that dad wasn’t running away from something but trying to keep some burden from others. If not to allow them to have to carry such in the known future...
He remembers how his father wanted him to grow up strong and proud of his family. Proud to be apart of such a big and God believing family, and to be strong to protect those that you care about so much. The strong statement was what made such an impact on him. Throughout high school he did his all to work out and play the roughest sports he was able to. By the end of his years in high school he had the legs of a runner, the body of a quarterback, and the brains of any math major.
A far cry from his skinny puberty years.
Perhaps he should’ve joined the army. They could’ve used him and his skills. Especially after the war in Iraq and the policing actions US forces were involved with in Kosovo. But instead of listening to the recruiters, he went the way of college, and is where he is today. At a glance one would say that he was living a full life. At age 21, he was on his way to make his mark in life. the only question for himself was “what mark”? To be honest he felt rather lost on what to do next. He knew there was indeed more to life than hanging out with friends, working his job and going home to an empty apartment. He certain wasn’t interesting in making his life more complicated by getting married to some woman and having babies with her just for having sake. He didn’t feel that the time was right to settle down yet, that something was left unfinished.
He couldn’t explain it but the lack of interest in sleep these past two weeks gave him the feeling of pending dread. It was bad enough that before the two weeks he would be haunted by nightmares he could not remember. That something was slowly creeping itself out of the shadows and was ready to not only pounce on him but on all that he held dear. He remembered what his father said about being strong to protect those he held most dear. Why did he always come back to that? Even now he reaches for his cross under his shirt without a second moments thought. What was this shadow that was coming for him and those he cared for? He sure wasn’t buying into this Y2K scare that everyone was talking about. Sure it was the middle of October but the technical community had two more months to tend to this pending disaster. They’d know about it since the beginning of 1999. So the only ones foolish enough to think the world was going to end were the doomsdayers and those that were buying bunkers out in the middle of no where to protect themselves from the hordes of hungry and crazed people once they learned that their PC’s and cell phones stopped functioning. Even that made for TV movie was a joke!
So then what was it of all nights that was keeping him on edge? He did his best not to let the darkness and the shadows of the night get the best of him. They were just ghost stories, things didn’t exist in the darkness. Despite his believes, there was nothing to fear from night, was there?
All of a sudden, he began to feel a creeping foreboding enter the coffee shop. He didn’t dare turn around, giving what this feeling was the pleasure of rattling him. He couldn’t explain it but it felt that something was filling the room though there was no one else around besides the few people in this night. The dread slowly began to build and start to consume the young man. He found it harder and harder to breathe. He did his best not to look panicked but a cute blonde haired waitress wearing a shirt skirt noticed his wide-eyed appearance. He became aware of the fine sheen of sweat starting to build on his lower lip and the hairs on the back of his neck standing up on end. If he was lucky the waitress might mistake him as some burned out junkie. But the outfit he wore and the stylish goatee gave only the impression that he was not the type to fall the sway of any designer drug.
The young man’s chest started to hurt so he gripped the front of his shirt. Immediately the foreboding started to subside. He didn’t realize that he had accidentally brushed up against the cross his mother had given him on his graduation. He immediately grab the cross thru the fabric and began to recite the Lord’s prayer. With every sentence, the darkness began to recede. When finished with the prayer, it had left altogether. Others in the coffee shop began to take notice of the young man gripping his shirt as if he was having a panic attack. “Are you alright sir?” asked the blonde haired waitress. It wasn’t till she spoke that the young man finally took notice of the waitress. She wasn’t the norm with the other girls around here. Her outfit had an outdated, late Victorian look and her face was that of an ageless beauty. Her eyes had the odd rim of darkness around them yet her eyes themselves sparked with the knowledge of ages.
A Goth thought the young man. A very smart one or one on some drug. He nodded to her and said he was well, he just didn’t feel well all of a sudden. “I hope it wasn’t from the coffee good sir.” she answered. “Here, have one on the house.” she said as she placed a fresh cup in front of him. He nodded his thanks and she answered with a wink as she walked back toward the counter. That was the most oddest of situations to be in he thought as he picked up the fresh coffee to take a sip. Perhaps there was something to his upbringing than he realized. He watched the skylight as he took a sip from the coffee before him. Something was wrong he noticed, the coffee had an odd taste to it. It wasn’t one of the house’s normal blends, it had a sort of coppery taste. Almost like sucking on a dirty penny but with a more liquid quality....
The young man violently spit out the coffee and watched it stain the table before him.
The stains were that of blood.
The young man dropped the cup and quickly jumped out of his chair. The sound of it’s falling made everyone look up at him. The young man stared aghast as he saw the spilled contents of the vile drink stain the table as it poured out of it’s cup. Then the most wicked thing happened: the young man saw the cup reposition itself to the sitting position on it’s own accord and begin to overflow. Soon a small fountain of blood was coming out of the cup and began to flow over the table. It bubbled and ran like some twisted gothic horror movie special effect. He couldn’t keep his eyes off it as he saw the blood begin to cover the table, overflow off the edge and begin to pool on the floor. He ran his fingers over his lips and goatee only to see the blood upon his fingers. He looked down his shirt and saw the blood splattered on his clothing. He felt the sticky ooze of it matt itself on his skin. He felt it stick itself onto his cross.
He looked away from the horrid image and glanced to all that was watching him. He wanted to yell and ask what the hell was going on. If they all saw what he saw. But they only looked back at him with confusion, and some mild amusement, in their eyes. Anger started to build inside this young man and was about to demand who’s idea of a sick idea of a joke this was but when he looked back at his table and his fountain of horror, it was gone. All it showed was his overturned cup of coffee now started to leave a dark puddle on the table. He placed his fingers to his mouth and goatee again but it came back stained this time with nothing but coffee. But the blood taste was still in his mouth. He did his best not to retch as he wiped the coffee off his lips. He looked himself over and saw his clothes not stained with blood as he first felt but with that of the coffee he now saw at the table.
Yet he still tasted blood.
What was going on?
Suddenly, he remembered the strange waitress that served him the very cup of death. Others in the coffee shop began to come toward him to see if he was alright. He even noticed a few patrons beginning to pull out joints thinking as if he was a junky in need of a fix. Before they could come to him, he made a mad dash to the counter and demanded to know where the blonde waitress was for she had much to explain to.
“Look at this place,” said the owner. “Does it look like I have the money to hire a waitress to serve you all? Let alone some cute blonde?” Before the young man could ask another question, he caught a glimpse of the very woman that served him the drink, walk by the store window. It was only a fleeting glance but he knew at once it was her. Like how a hungry man chases after a stole crumb of bread, he ran out of the store and onto the sidewalk.
But the sidewalk was empty.
Not just empty in general of any people. It was as if the entire street decided to die out. No cars, no sounds, no birds, or night activity. The only noise to be heard was the light hum of the street lamps. The young man felt warm along the front of his body and looked down to see that his shirt was once again stained with blood.
I’m loosing my mind, thought the young man.
Then for some odd sense of dread, as if he was being watched, he had the sudden urge to turn around and look up toward the sky. What he say made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up once more. Before him he saw the moon, full and round like any moon would be during the fall season. What made him think he was seeing things was when the moon began to turn blood red before his very eyes. Like the slow spilling of the blood on the table back at the coffee house, he saw the blood drip over the moon’s white glow to turn into a hellish red. The young man stood there and bared witness to this evil omen. Instantly he grabbed for his cross and squeeze it tight in his palm when he heard the light, sinister sound of laughter.
He knew not what to make of all of this at first. The blonde, the feeling of dread, the sleepless nights over two weeks, the elusive nightmares, the blood...
All he knew was that something’s not right in the world. That some sense of evil was beginning to stir. And the only one to notice it this very night was him. He once again thought of what his father had told him once more. About how he must become strong to protect all things he held most dear. Gripping his cross, he looks again to the blood red moon that made itself known only to him. At that moment he sensed a bit of that purpose in life that he was sure he was missing.
That night, Stephen Simmons Corn, faced his destiny....
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
