A Glimpse of The Dark
By Natasha McNeely
Copyright © 2011
Natasha McNeely
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in review, without permission in writing from the author/publisher.
Dedication
To everyone who supports me.
Thank you.
Encouraged by my friends and family, this collection contains seven of my best short works. Written over the course of two years, these stories were chosen and polished for publication.
A mixture of philosophical and literal reads awaits each reader. Some of these stories will express their tale clearly, while others allow readers to ponder what it means to them.
Contents
A Taste of Truth
A Shattered Dream
Answer me this
Deafening Silence
Forbidden Magic
Demonic Rescue
Vengeance Served
A Taste of Truth
Once upon a time, I stopped breathing.
A bright light and a flash of green were all I remembered, with screeching cries echoing in my mind. The next thing I knew, life faded from my body and darkness cloaked me, shielding me from further harm. In the distance, a shining star attempted to pierce the cloud and was denied entry.
Soft-spoken words embraced me and comforted my shaken form. Arms held me close and sweet nothings flowed into my mind, calming me. My troubles faded away, so I basked in the joy of silent tranquility and savored it like an expensive wine. A shadowed kiss pressed against my forehead and the black began to fade.
I cried out, pleading for it not to leave. My life had ended and I desired to remain with the dark, where serenity reigned as opposed to hectic tales in life. Prayers remained unanswered as blackness began to brighten. The pleasure I felt faded and I opened my eyes. The blinding walls of a medical ward surrounded me.
As I found myself bound to the rules of the world once again, I realized just what the paramedics had unknowingly done. They robbed me of the purest gift – death. For a moment I experienced the true destination, the freedom that it brought. It led me to realize that fear of death was an irrational fear. In life, one is trapped within the laws of society. The accident freed me of that horror for seconds, minutes…
Then a wheelchair tightened my bonds. After the accident, I became paralyzed from the waist down. That simple fact limited my already restricted life; it bound me to a chair and eliminated my options.
I found myself wanting to stop breathing again.
Longing for the ability to just say enough and end the tragedy of the living, I whispered nightly prayers of truth and sorrow. I begged for the choice, to test the waters of power and hold life and death in my own hands. Dolphins controlled their eternal cycle. To breathe, or not to breathe – for them, that was the question. For them, it only took a choice; if they made the decision, their breaths would end and death would take them in his welcoming arms.
Humans were not gifted with such abilities.
My silent prayers continued even as years passed and high school morphed into college. Interest in my future steadily decreased after the incident; I studied history for the sheer fact of having something to do. It intrigued me as I learned what happened in the past and found similarities During times of boredom, my thoughts wandered to my encounter with death. Those rare moments made me long to feel that way again – to savor his touch and his words.
Often, I caught myself speculating: Had death visited me, or had it been the devil? Other times, I pondered the idea of both entities being the same; I couldn’t be certain. Even my memories didn’t provide the answer.
But then he came for me.
A familiar feeling settled over me; the slightest hint of joy and freedom coursed through my veins. He appeared in a flurry of shadow-kissed petals and stood before me in my room. With the ghost of a smile crossing his features, he kneeled down to my level and regarded me with eyes that told of an enduring tale.
“I can give you life.” Lightly, death trailed pale digits over my passive legs. “…If you so desire.”
The honesty in his statement pierced to my very core and shattered any shred of doubt that hid within. For an instant, I felt the subtle pressure on my skin; in sole instinct, I reached out and entangled my hand in black hair, needing to feel more of what he had offered.
“Give me… life.”
He inclined his head and grasped my hand with his. A chill slid down my spine at the sudden cold that filled me, but did not deter me. His grip tightened to prevent me from slipping and he pulled me to my feet, forcing me to leave behind the wheelchair I’d lived in.
With a shocked gasp as my legs held my weight, I stumbled and crashed into his chest. My surprise dissipated as his arms encircled my waist and a chaste kiss pressed upon my forehead. Allowing my eyes to flutter shut, I enjoyed the caress that avoided me for years, what I had always longed for.
My eyes opened as he took a step away and raised my arm. He made me spin once, then twice, allowing me to grow accustomed to my legs. A soft laugh escaped with the wind and the first true smile in years shone on my face. Freedom wrapped around me and engulfed me in that which I had wanted all my life.
“Let us go.”
My body stayed behind as I went with him, the one I had needed and the one who I could now call mine. Years of waiting paid off and true life began with him. I’d come to understand that he was both death and the devil, and yet neither. He took care of those who began to lose hope in mankind.
With his help, I danced within the darkness and tasted the forbidden fruit of freedom and knowledge. I knew I made the right decision as time passed and I helped him save more souls like mine that desired the truth. We assisted them in escaping the wretched claws of human laws and restricted lives.
Many believed he lived as the embodiment of evil. Never did I think that; rather, the opposite idea claimed my mind.
He was my savior.
A Shattered Dream
I always believed dreams were beautiful things. They existed like a star falling in the night, enlightening the world with their unearthly glows. Dreams were wonderful, stunning and imaginative; everyone had one and one day, it would come true.
My dream was primitive, perhaps cliché, yet it never changed and I held it close to my heart, like a dear friend. To one day find a mind with whom I intended to stay. For our engagement, and to have my father walk me down the aisle as my mother, siblings and friends looked on. Although every little girl’s dream, it often changed with the tide. Mine stayed, never wavering. During my education, the dream hovered just ahead and waited until I made it to that stage of my life.
I thought life a beautiful thing. My family loved me dearly and we spent much time together. On some evenings, we’d go out to dinner. On others we would stay home and lounge, watching movies and eating fresh popcorn and ice cream. I even met a man I cared for, one I would gladly spend my entire life with. He cared for my relatives like his own and enjoyed spending evenings with me and them. Life became wonderful and enigmatic – my dream grew ever closer.
Until it shattered.
One wrong move on that fateful night ruined the life I built. We returned from a restaurant together, my family and I. A driver drove before green as our car raced across the street. Screams and screeching tires echoed in my mind. Metal connected in a sickening crash and all went black around me.
My fiancé came as soon as he heard, but the deed was done. Only one of my siblings still breathed by the time the ambulance came for us. She died on the path to salvation. In such a short moment, my dream vanished before my very eyes. Even
as my body healed its wounds, my mental state decreased. I fell into a state of depression.
Everyone I grew up with vanished.
My fiancé tried to help me through it. He tried so hard, but I was beyond saving. The death of my parents and two sisters threw me over the edge. I fell into a bottomless pit, descending further every second until I reached the end of my sane life. The depths of Hell welcomed me with open arms, greeting my insanity and depression with blazing flames of renewal. The dark took its hold on me and removed the last remaining shreds of myself from my body.
My fiancé fell with me.
Answer me this
Was there much pain?
A simple question – an inquiry, made up of four words. There’s only one answer I wish to hear from you. It’s the one answer my heart longs for; a single response that I need nearly more than the oxygen that is present in the air.
“Yes.”
After all the things you did to me, I hope it hurt. I hope that you were in utter agony as the knife stabbed repeatedly into your chest. Even so, it could never come close to the pain I felt when you dropped my heart and it shattered on contact with the ground. The cold, hard reality of life rushed into my veins and tore the very things I believed in to pieces. And you were the cause.
Did it hurt when the knife dug into your chest? Did you cry out as your flesh ripped? Did you feel the warm blood cover your skin, feel your scarlet bloodline leave your veins? Or were you silent, and took it like the man you never were?
I know the answers to those questions; I was there. The silver blade that tore into your skin, I aimed. I watched as your life slowly drained because of me, because I controlled the knife. It’s true what they say.
“Revenge is sweet.”
I’ll never forget the moment the light left your eyes. After all, taking a life is nowhere near as horrible as what you did to me. You toyed with me, dared to claim me as yours and treated me no better than the corpses buried beneath the dirt.
You broke my spirit.
Never again. You cannot plague others the way you did to me. Revenge ended your life and will curse you even in death. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, sweetheart. You should know.
So I ask you this, before you move on to the next realm.
Was there much pain?
Deafening Silence
Silence.
It drove me insane; the stillness around me. Deafening screams echoed in the hollow of my mind. Excruciating agony coursed in my mind and spread to my core. Whimpering, I gripped my head in my hands and fell to my knees. Carpet burned my skin, the sting pushed aside by the mental struggle This was how it always happened: Every day, after school or work, or after dinner. In my room, the silence consumed me.
Then the voices came.
They were gentle at first and gave soft nudges in the right direction. Whispers came from all around and within, almost soothing. I denied them their wish and they became angry, more insistent. Gaining a sharp edge, the voices cut through the sanctuary of my room. Still, I fought.
No matter what I did, they came back. I could banish them for short periods of time, yes. But not long enough. Never long enough. They always returned to urge me to do things I didn’t want.
One time, I found myself standing on the roof of the apartment complex I lived in. I stood on the ledge. Headlights shone below and bitter chills wrapped around my skin, the wind a welcoming embrace that brought me down to earth.
How did I get here? A blur. Again, I battled the voices and won. That was the closest they ever came to winning. My victory would last. God, I hoped it would last, to free me from the horrors the voices brought.
My hands still help my head and I leant back, back against a wall. Solid. Something to keep my focus where I needed it most – rejecting. The voices whispered, telling me things – things I did not want to hear.
“Let’s go play on the roof,” a male, sing-song voice. “It’ll be fun.”
I shook my head furiously. “N-No.” My voice cracked and rose barely above a whisper. My willpower faded, weakened after so many attempts at freeing myself.
“You know you can’t resist…”
Again, I repeated the motion. I didn’t want this. “Leave me alone.” Cold laughter echoed in my head and I felt myself cringe. Anger and determination bubbled up in the pit of my stomach. “Go away!”
On command, the laughter halted. The presence of the voices faded. Only the silence remained around me.
Shivering, I removed my hands from my head and wrapped my arms around my knees, pulling them to my chest. I rested my forehead against them and felt something run down my cheek. The liquid tasted salty when it touched my lips.
Taking a shaky breath, I shuddered. I won the battle, I realized and a flicker of a small smile brightened my expression. It vanished as soon as it came, the truth settling over me. This time… More tears stung in my gaze and I shut my eyes to block out everything.
But what about the next?
Forbidden Magic
“It shan’t be long now, my sweets.” A man’s deep voice penetrated the silence. “For too long you have been restricted by death, but no more! As of today, you will rise again.” The hint of a smile followed his words, twisting his lips upward.
His pale, blonde locks were pulled back into a short ponytail, his face framed by a few stray strands. The sun set long previous, casting the world into darkness. The night became eerie, worsened by his surroundings. Around him stood tombstones and graves of varying stature and size, scattered throughout the grassy area – a cemetery.
The middle-aged man strode to a grave and pressed a hand to the large angel statue that stood above it. “Too long have you waited for the freedom you deserve and the time has come to release you.” After years of research, years of teaching himself the way of magic, a gift that lost acceptance in society as time passed and technology grew dominant, he had reached a breakthrough.
His black jacket fluttered around his knees, a strong gust manipulating it to do its bidding. He gripped the sides of his garments and tugged it into its former place; the material covered his elegant white blouse and part of his pants.
Behind him, an old mansion stood tall and firm. The white design decorated the outside of the house and burgundy curtains blocked part of the large, glass windows. Life granted luxuries to the families with powerful sorcery; his skills and those before him allowed him and his relatives the noble life they became accustomed to – a luxury others did not have.
“Let us begin.” His brows furrowed, grey eyes narrowed in concentration until he shut them entirely. At the chime of a church bell, the man focused his spiritual energy chanted:
“Breathe the air once more, my sweets:
Tear apart the walls between your world and mine.
Return to the living as I grant you more time,
to live amongst us in eternal peace.”
A bitter chill rippled through the cemetery and the man opened his eyes. After so long, he believed to have reached the breaking point in his skills – a new skillset others never dared to study. While elemental magic remained a common trait, dwindling with the coming of the witch hunts, necromancy was an art that few had ever attempted. Reviving the dead – few desired to think about it.
A twig snapped and echoed throughout the cemetery. The sound hung in the air; a veil of thick seclusion from the outer world. Shuffling and scraping followed that distinct sound. Digging, or clawing. A pallid white hand pushed its way through the soil. Bone, all that remained of the human hand. The man stepped back, eyes wide in surprise, and observed the unfolding miracle. The rest of the person’ body followed, digging and clawing its way out of the grave. It didn’t take long for the skeleton to break free from its confines and stand in front of him.
Smudges of dirt tainted the pale bones, chipped in places from its long rest beneath the ground. Recognizable features faded with time. A nameless face stared back at him, unearthed only by his knowledge of the
resident of the grave.
The shocked expression tainted the necromancer’s features for a moment longer. His surprise faded and he stepped forward – two, three steps. Years of research and experiments had not been wasted; the evidence stood before him. Eyeing the body in front of him, he chuckled throatily and shook his head. As his success sank in, a smirk crossed his lips and he held out a hand to his new companion.
“Hello… father.”
Demonic Rescue
Dull pain throbbed at the back of my head, the thumping of my heart filling my ears. I opened my eyes, awaking from my unplanned slumber. Soft light engulfed me and I cringed, shutting my eyes tightly before reopening them slowly.
My surroundings were unfamiliar; a large room without windows. A wooden table stood in a corner with matching chairs surrounding it. Nothing hung on the walls – no decorations, no color. If not for the very large, human-sized cross pinned against the far wall, I would have thought I’d had a run-in with the mafia.
“Shit,” Pressing my hand against the bare wall, I used the support to stand up. Pain blurred my vision and I rubbed my eyes to remove it. “Where the hell am I?”
“That’s nothing you need worry about.”
The male voice came from behind me and ignited anxiety in the pit of my stomach. I moved to turn to face whoever had brought me here; a well-aimed hit connected with the back of my neck before I succeeded. A cry escaped me, cut off when my throat clenched, and I felt my body go limp. Legs weakened, I fell, my knees slamming into the floor. Roughs jeans protected my skin when it hit the ground. Two pairs of hands gripped my upper arms, squeezing into flesh.
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