The Rokkaia Chronicles

by Rhys Thomas

  Darkness and the things in my sleep claimed me.

  Interlude: Jonathan Marcs

  My memory played out before me like the film from a camera reel. It would click and flash changing scenes and distorting as it showed me running for my life.

  I had just been attacked on my way home from work at the little corner store a few miles from my apartment. At first my attacker had been near invisible, striking me and throwing me with ease like a ragdoll. I had been mistaken, thinking my attacker was hiding. But my mistake had been one of elevation.

  Once I had seen that my attacker was both not human, but a monster and could fly, I made my way into the narrow alleys, trying to escape.

  The scene jarred to a halt as suddenly the reality of my memory slammed into me, speeding the scene in reversal and then streaking it forward.

  I gasped as my body crunched into the alley wall.

  I slid down and crashed onto the rubbish bags and old dirtied cardboard boxes beneath me. Shock stunning my brain and throwing my body into a frenzy. Clutching at my chest, I wheezed for breath as the monstrous gargoyle-looking thing prowled towards me.

  I looked up to see its boar snout huff the air an inch from my face and I ducked reflexively forward under it, going flat on my belly and sliding badly across the gravelly ground, in the process tearing up my work shirt.

  I felt the small flakes of stones and grit grind against my chest sorely; even scraping along arms and elbows.

  I was slightly winded, but I got on my hand and knees at a frantic pace, ever mindful of the ghoulish creature chasing me.

  I dove again as a massive furred arm sailed over my head to where I had been and smashed into the wall leaving a crumbing imprint of its fist. The gargoyle snarled a raking sort of laughter as it looked at me piteously. The laughter was harsh and squealing.

  It hunched forward like a charging bull, but instead of running at me, a nest of 2ft long spikey hairs on its back erected and shot up through the air to come down around me.

  I rolled to my left as the quills chinked and thudded into the ground, most burying inches deep. My roll brought me up and against a wall where I pushed off and into a sprint.

  I could feel it’s terrifying squeal sweep through me like a physical manifestation of fear as laughter once again escaped the things gnarled lips.

  Dipping right and running through a narrow slit between two building, the space was no more than two feet wide and I had to shuffle sideways at a dreadfully slow pace.

  The thing passed by the entrance swooping low at a crunch then leaping high. I hoped but doubted that it had missed me entering. About half way through I heard a crunch come from above as a few fragments of debris flittered down to dust me. I looked up to see the gargoyle perch astride the narrow slit, it’s crazy moth-like wings flared in anticipation as it squealed down at me.

  I cursed myself for having left my mobile at home. I knew the instant I was free the gargoyle-like creature would simply drop down upon me. So, instead I waited like an asshole.

  Several minutes passed and each felt like an hour. My patience was straining, and my nerves began to go frits.

  “Help!” I shouted finally, hoping someone could hear me. I could hear the busy city centre maybe a few blocks away. The blur of horns and bustling sounds of people felt so far very away now.

  “Someone help me! Please, fucking help me!” I shouted again, whispering the last few words to myself. Feeling decidedly helpless and dejected. I remembered an interview where a woman had been held at knife point in alley way between buildings such like where I’d found myself now. No matter how much she screamed that a man was attacking her and crying out for help, no one came. Not a single person intervened. Until she started calling out that there was fire. Then people got the fuck out their homes.

  Because a fucking fire had the potential to affect them even in the comforts and safety of their shelters. A man with a knife outside your home, wasn’t your problem till you interfere. The thing above chittered and snorted as if sensing my helplessness.

  “Yeah!” I called at it bitterly. “What’d you fucking want anyway huh? Hell-boy reject.” The boar head tilted like a dog in curiosity. It’s wings twitched and folded as it began to settle in and wait patiently.

  “That’s exactly what I wanted, you annoying bitch.” I spat at it. “Get really nice and comfy, set your feet up and relax.”

  I inched a step closer to the exit, keeping my eyes fixed on the gargoyle. I stopped to glanced down and make sure there were no inconvenient trash that would noisily give away my escape. Which changed the instant I looked up; and saw that the creature was gone.

  “Oh fuck!” I hissed as I sprang out. The second I was free; I went low to a crouch and ran to my left, towards the noisy centre. I made sure to stay against the wall so I wouldn’t be too much of an obvious target. Then I heard the familiar howling squeal and muffled thumping beat of its wings as the cry sailed over head. “Why the fuck is it only after me?” I yelled aloud.

  As soon as the words left my mouth, I froze. Static and distortions sweeping through me and the scene. My whole being fuzzed for but a moment. And in that moment, between the fuzz. I caught sight of a familiar pitch-black room. It’s obsidian floor and ceiling, filled with an endless darkness. I could myself within that room, running endlessly on in a hamster wheel. Then I was jarred forcibly as the scene snapped back into to play.

  Quickly producing my wallet, I snapped off the keychain attached to it so that I could unhooked the small Swiss Army pocket knife. It was an utterly pathetic thing to wield against this creature, but it gave me some small measure of protection. Stashing my wallet in the trans-dimensional space I’d been able to conjure since I was a child. Then I felt my wallet dematerialise out of my hand and got the vague impression it was where I had sent it.

  I rotated the pocket knife and pressed against the ribbed section that allowed the two-inch penknife to flick out slightly. I thought about moving all the other various accessory’s like the filer and collapsible scissors, but I figured they wouldn’t help any further beyond the knife and perhaps even hamper it.

  I kept the pocket knife low and behind my thigh as I crept along, it might’ve been a pointless gesture to try and conceal my knife. But I didn’t care at this point.

  After a full minute, I felt like I could somewhat relax. But the feeling like the stone behind me crunched as my heart leapt up into my throat so quickly that I nearly gagged with fright. The thing wasn’t just directly behind but also about five feet above, clinging to the building’s wall like a spider as it slowly began climbing across and closing the distance.

  I shrieked a “fuckfuckshit!” and stumbled into a run. But all I really managed was several feet when pain seared through my calf and nearly blinded me as I cried out and fell into a heap on the floor clutching at my leg.

  A quill protruded from my leg diagonally and a foot of it jutted from either side, with my leg meeting in-between. The slightest of touches brought me close to passing out and I knew at that instance that running away would prove harder that before. The fact was made so painfully obvious I also passed out again when I tried to shuffle backwards.

  None of that mattered though as the creature-thing dropped down to the ground in from of me.

  We glared at one another as I hissed in pain. I could see the bulging muscles on its body flexing with each of its movements. The talons on its unmistakable bird like legs, clacked impatiently against the ground. No more than four feet was the distance between us, but the gargoyle creature stayed where it was, and thought I understood why. The fucker wanted me to run. This was all too easy for the thing; and I wasn’t entertaining enough yet, to even be counted as a tasty morsel.

  I had dropped my pocket knife at some point and I gave a quick scan about me in the hopes it was nearby. Thankfully a glance behind me delivered on that hope. It was within reach, but I had no doubt that the moment I did anything the creature would pounce on me.

 
“Fuck it,” I hissed, took a deep breath and lunged backwards going spread on my back and gaining a foot and a half as I scrambled till my hand closed around the red smooth metal handle of my pocket knife.

  I brought the two-inch knife around to strike out knowing with all certainty it was coming when It’s whole weight crashed down on top of me. Massive meaty hands tipped with three to four-inch-long nails dug into my shoulders and pinned me. I yelped and my good leg thrashed out trying to dislodge the thing feebly.

  Unfortunately, the creature was built like a brick shithouse and my feeble kicks were nothing but pebble-dashing against it.

  Another squealing laugh rumbled through the cracked lips of its snout. I wheezed with effort as I swallowed a lung of the creatures rancid breath. Luckily, I was saved from the drowning sewer hissing through its throat when the weight on my shoulder was removed along with a tearing chunk of flesh from my shoulder.

  I screamed and thrashed and then was forced to shut up when its hand pressed down against my face; forcing my head to snap to the left with an audible crunch. For a maddening second, I wondered if my neck had snapped. The pressure increased and it’s hand felt like the roughest gravel on my face.

  With the panic, my mind delved for an escape, anything I could muster before the thing crush my head. Then… I stupidly realised my right arm was free—though wounded—and I still had my pocket knife clutched in hand. Wasting no further time, I immediately acted and jammed the knife directly into the wrist of the hand crushing against my face.

  I didn’t stop there, continuing as the creature was stunned by the sudden pain and I twisted the knife all while mustering all the effort I could and thrust the knife horizontally up along it’s arm.

  Sickly blue blood seeped from the wound matting the dark grey fur of its arm and onto my cheek, nose and mouth. It’s howled out in rage, shock and pain and released my left shoulder with another sickening spike of pain. It clung to its bloody wrist and backed away enough for me to sit up as if I had been struck by lightning and I stab out again. In a sweeping arch, I planted my knife in its inner thigh the tore it free, twisting as I did so.

  As the creature dealt with its discomfort, I tried desperately to stumble to my feet, but all I could managed was a crawl at best. A wave of despair washed over me as its roar of outrage gave me seconds of notice before the ribs along my right side and chest caved in as it kicked me.

  The thing had fucking kicked me with its damn chicken leg. Even through the pain I chuckled bitterly as I struggled to move and sit up.

  “Buck-buck,” I coughed out a laugh as I drawled a thick stream of blood onto the ground. The lights were dimming now; and I just wanted to sleep. My breathing was hard and scratchy, and the only image that made sense was that at the periphery of my vision to my left.

  Numb and wracked with pain, I barely noticed as the scene stopped. My mind spun, knowing the end was coming, or would I be forced to replay this over and over.

  My life on Earth, had been one of pain, scars and painful memories. I wanted my parents, Peter and Marian .

  But they were dead.

  I wanted to scream at everything that had ever happened to me, but I couldn’t—wouldn’t—because the pain kept me alive. I couldn’t even die properly.

  No.

  Even if I had to face this dream—my memories—again, I would always fight. I knew this for the truth. It had been why I killed my foster parents; Michael and Louise.

  Then I was back, and the scene was playing.

  The end of the alley way was right to my left a dozen or so yards. I wasn’t sure if it was irony or just really bad fucking luck. A blur to my right showed the creature screeching like wounded baby.

  “Will you shut up,” I slurred at it. “I’m the one fucking dying here,” I sighed heavily, and my face felt wet.

  “Oh, fuck this…” I was dead and absolutely sure I wouldn’t make it to the exit.

  But if I did, then maybe someone else could probably mess this creature up. The thought spur me on. A surge of adrenaline pumped through my veins giving me strength enough for a final push. Warmth flooded my nervous system. Or maybe it the wounds, or the blood loss.

  I sprung to my feet swaying with vertigo as the world spun so badly that I had to slap myself to see straight. unsurprisingly my feet did little more than shuffle along. I was at best doing a limping jog, my mind playing a scene from Ace Ventura where he’s wounded in both legs by spears. I definitely wasn’t feeling the reflexes of a cat, or the speed of a mongoose. Nope. I was going pro walker-frame speed.

  My body knew of the pain it was in, but my brain had numbed everything to a warm breeze. It was either that or I had pissed myself, but no matter. I was 10 or 7 feet away from the exit and I wondered if now was a good time to start shouting fire. The chance of discovery, instead of the stomach contents of an otherworldly monster awaiting its next bowel movement.

  My eyes stung from not blinking and I moved to the exit, stretching out my hand- when suddenly my right arm was yanked up as the creatures nails buried beneath my upper arm and armpit. Screaming as the gnarled thing snapped down on my shoulder and neck, it’s teeth sinking, as muffled squeals of delight snorted through its nostrils.

  My body shook helplessly as the fucker chowed down on me, and I really didn’t want to be pig-shit. I just dangle in its grasp as if weighing nothing more than a beef sandwich. Being the gargoyles damned chew toy kindled a last desperate flame of defiance within me. I reached down with my left hand and brought my left leg up; I closed my hand around the quill jutting out through my calf.

  The blood loss, numbness and pain were so blended together that it made it easier to yank the quill out. Without a second of hesitation I brought my arm up and around; and ran the quill through the fleshy throat of the creature, skewering through its tongue and left eye, piercing it’s brain and out through the top of its head.

  It’s feasting was brought to an immediate jarring halt as its head snapped back abruptly, its mouths still closed around me though.

  The black pearl of its right eye rolled up, revealing a slim line of white sclera. Blue fluid oozed from the squishy socket that was devoid of its left eye.

  Loosening my grip on the quill my arm flopped back to my side, yet the grip it held on me remained firm and the pressure and pain on my right increased as the nails there dug deeper and further in.

  “Oh, come on,” I whined, my word slurring and bubbling with blood and spit.

  It’s whole body shook, and my vision swam blinding me briefly. I felt the thing nails puncture right through my upper arm, its fingers going completely through till they curled and tightened into a fist around the flesh and bone.

  I felt the scene pause but I barely noticed. I wasn’t entirely sure if I was laughing or screaming by this point. But all I could think about was killing this thing. I pushed forward with my rage and anger, a growl reverberated up from my stomach, through my chest and out my throat.

  Everything snapped into place and drawing out that last decimals of strength I could claw at. I viciously swung out and slammed into the quill and gripping it tightly and I pulled.

  The removal was a quick and slippery process and became easier as soon I felt the quill ease out of the roof of its skull. Then, I plunged the quill in again and again, and again.

  The final thrust must’ve met something more vital than its brains, because suddenly the quill was impossible to move. I raised my head and looked the thing in its gross pigged-out face.

  It had been watching me I realised; the right eye piercing me with a black foul menace and despite the pain and numbness I was feeling, my body still shivered at the sight. But then It crumbled and collapsed in on itself; my feet touched the ground and my knees immediately buckled bringing me down with it.

  For several seconds I shook and rocked on my knees like a reed in the wind.

  “Fucking. Finally,” I breathed triumphantly and flopped down onto my face. I just lay there dying, hidden out of sig
ht and out of mind. Maybe someone would find me eventually and most likely without any clothes on. People were weird when it came to dead bodies. Whoever found me and the monster would likely make a shit ton of money off their ‘discovery.’ Nope, I am not dying here waiting to be used like some blow doll for some necrophiliac freak.

  So, I got the fuck up, it must’ve taken me ten minutes to get to my knees. “How much blood could I have left?” I wondered aloud and was surprised I could still talk.

  Glancing down at myself, which was indeed a mistake; because it took me an extra couple of minutes just to lift my head again.

  “Legs next. Jonny bravo,” I wheezed out of strain, and quickly forced myself up and managed to plant my right foot wobbly before I could crash down.

  The whole world tilting didn’t exactly help things.

  Oddly, I could feel an itch in my right arm and looking I saw the creatures sausage-sized fingers were still punctured through the under-side of my upper arm. I vomited.

  The next few minutes were a blur of me trying to gently as possible; nudge it’s dead digits out through the flesh of my arm. Weirdly, hardly any blood flowed out from my wounds, yet the sticky wetness coating my neck and shoulders showed that the thing’s love-bite had been more than just playful fun.

  I skipped merrily the fuck out of the alleyway and straight into a speedy intersection.

  Cars blurred all around me.

  A screeching horn spun me around as an early 2000s Fiat Panda narrowly avoided me. Following the form of the car I moved to give it the finger; when suddenly a cold sharp pain crunched into my lower back. My head slammed back hard, my arms flailing and fanning out at my sides. The blurring of a car horn and the panicked screams deafened me and drowned out my conscious existence entirely.

  Chapter Two

  I bolted up as sweat trickled down my chest, haunting nightmares of travelling through the void and between domains plagued my dreams with incoherent shapes and forms battling and merging with one another. My usual shitty nightmares were those of my abusive foster mother and acholic father.