Post by esperanza on Feb 3, 2013 10:44:25 GMT
It had been years since the headaches had bothered her. It was always the same during those muggy days of early summer when the sky struggled to let the weather burst through and Clara empathised with that sense of choiceless waiting. She had caught little glimpses, the curve of an ear, perhaps, or a thickened wrist but never anything certain, anything that proved she was in any way correct. They were odd memories of people without faces, she wasn't ever certain, but she always felt that maybe, they were waiting for her. The people around her were another matter. Every time she closed her eyes to the world in the hope of seeing what she needed, she was drowned in a cacophony of opinions, echoing voices on what she should do, testaments to those she should emulate and endless warnings on what she should not become. She quietened under the pressure of seemingly hearing all and knowing nothing. The molten throb drove her to distraction as she tried to remember. But every memory turned to a nameless sense of guilt, perhaps sadness. She often wondered if there had been something she had lost. Her days were changeless, a kalaidoscope of past images which allowed no release. She often thought of the river but everything changed on the day that she found the boy down by the water.
It was the spot where it at all began, enclosed amongst the greenery and the smell of petrichor as sheets of rain fell in mist. Here, silence was a friend for once. All changed in an instant when she saw stones crash towards the water and looked up to see the boy in rags. She didn't know it was a boy first, it could have been an old woman or man, hunched as if time weighed down on him when in fact he carried the burden of something much heavier.She jumped to her feet, and he fell forward as she approached him. His yellowed eyes held her in and just as she saw him mouth the words and tell her to run, blackness swept towards her. She felt as though a hand twisted through her insides as the pain consumed her. Unbearable colours drowned out all sight as she found herself writhing, horrified, and unaware of what caused the pain. The sound of the water augmented, drowning her heartbeat, only the water, flowing-Branches closing in-All became alien, all became black.
Fingers dug into her arm and the boy, on his feet now, screamed to run and she dragged herself from the ground, blinded to all but the stinging of her hands. With a leap, she seemed to lurch away from some of the darkness which had overpowered her. Heaving shadows had overtaken the embankment where she sat. She ran onwards with the boy, her legs weighed as though she were ploughing through water. The boy fell and she stopped to help him. She screamed, shaking him to awaken him, not stopping until she saw how expressionless his lightless eyes were. No heartbeat. Her own pulse hummed madly as she struggled for breath. She knew she couldn't help him and she fled, doing all she could to get away. But every direction seemed to lead to a greening dark and the noises were closer to her now, nameless howls which drowned out her own terror. She broke a tree, clutching a branch to direct herself, perhaps defend herself from whatever this was.
It wasn't long until the black dog came to face her, raggedly destroying the space between them with savage lunges. She charged to meet it, stick in hand. "Get away," she screamed. "You get away from me! Leave!" She struck its muzzle as it came to attack, slowing and enraging it. It would come for her throat next, she knew. Faster than she knew her hand could move, she gouged its eye and the scream she heard was uncanny. It snarled viciously, shaking down to its huge paws and she tried to brace herself for whatever would come. The beast raised its twisted head, not towards her, but to stare far off and it turned and padded off into the darkness. The gaps between light and gloom were now her only orients and she was swallowed up by the lonely feeling of utter directionlessness.
Clara rushed onwards, reasoning that to end up somewhere was better than waiting for a space or thing to come upon you. As her eyes struggled with the gloom, her sense of smell heightened, the rusted tang of blood haunted the air. She picked at her fingers. The boy could only have been injured in such a way by one person and Clara knew that meant that she had returned for her. She remembered the Spider. The dead boy had just been a pawn, her message and she had trapped him with a lie. From the first day Clara had met the Spider, her words had been irresistable, suggesting immortality, dominance, crushing the difference between right and wrong into a merely abstract premise. It was a very special kind of lying, beyond anything even drugs could do. After a while, you'd believe anything she said. Believe you must kill to survive. Believe you were dying yourself. Believe you were haunted. And the black lies grew like a poisonous seed until the parasite was greater than you.
Her fantasies were shredding apart, it had all been so like a fairytale to begin with she should have known it meant only that she was being called back. No way to fight the bad wolf when it was inside you. No way to know you were killing someone innocent instead. Now the pictures were coming together, she saw that the darkness had been coming from within her, then she'd thought of getting the kid. The tortured image of the yellow-eyed wreck was replaced by one of a kid with light-up trainers and cheeks too fat for his little face. She hadn't left the backstreets by her home, it hadn't taken her any length to find someone to kill. Yet the emptiness was real and she didn't know why her frenzy had gone unnoticed. Then she heard the sounds of sirens blaring in the background and guessed she was not the only one.
From the number of ambulances and fire brigades, she supposed that this one had gotten many, maybe throttled them with hands that he hadn't even known were his own. He was probably awakening now and that was what the Spider would thrive on, the arousal of monstrous guilt. She had walked through the city and she followed the noise of the crowds, all staring in one direction. He stood on the top of the building, shaking and alive to his own monstrousness. She heard him screaming that he was innocent, he hadn't ever known what it was that he did. The screams were inhuman noises, siren calls for an interior world that had fallen apart. Oh, how the Spider would laugh, Clara shivered at the thought. If he didn't jump, the Spider would make sure he never stayed in prison, she had ways of making just about anything happen, especially for the ones she had truely captured. Yet she hadn't gotten to Clara for years. Who was to say that one day Clara might not escape forever? She prayed she might for she doubted death would be a comfort to her twisted soul, nor to his. For the first time in a while, she found her voice and supposed her thoughts must finally be her own. Maybe they could fight her together but she was nauseated by the thoughts of who they might they sacrifice to do that. Long lost empathy flooded back to her and she remembered how she had felt the first time it had happened to her. Wondering how alike to the boy she had once been, she commanded her thoughts and she thought of him:
I know that it is the truth. Air drains from my lungs as I stare upwards, so high that the depth between us is another world to cross, another unbreachable chasm through which words cannot break. If I shout out will anyone listen or will the ground catch you before hope could intervene? I imagine your pitted eyes, your shaking frame and I wonder if the Spider watches you right now. I could save you, but at what cost? Your guilt is a lie, but a lie that would save others. I know to whom the bloodtrail leads and I freeze in the knowledge that any decision I choose will make me a murderer. .
Clara screamed aloud, "Don't move, I know this isn't your fault! This is not your fault, it isn't, and it wasn't mine either." She screamed the words again and again, until it was the only noise she heard inside her head, until it couldn't have been anything other than the truth.
It was the spot where it at all began, enclosed amongst the greenery and the smell of petrichor as sheets of rain fell in mist. Here, silence was a friend for once. All changed in an instant when she saw stones crash towards the water and looked up to see the boy in rags. She didn't know it was a boy first, it could have been an old woman or man, hunched as if time weighed down on him when in fact he carried the burden of something much heavier.She jumped to her feet, and he fell forward as she approached him. His yellowed eyes held her in and just as she saw him mouth the words and tell her to run, blackness swept towards her. She felt as though a hand twisted through her insides as the pain consumed her. Unbearable colours drowned out all sight as she found herself writhing, horrified, and unaware of what caused the pain. The sound of the water augmented, drowning her heartbeat, only the water, flowing-Branches closing in-All became alien, all became black.
Fingers dug into her arm and the boy, on his feet now, screamed to run and she dragged herself from the ground, blinded to all but the stinging of her hands. With a leap, she seemed to lurch away from some of the darkness which had overpowered her. Heaving shadows had overtaken the embankment where she sat. She ran onwards with the boy, her legs weighed as though she were ploughing through water. The boy fell and she stopped to help him. She screamed, shaking him to awaken him, not stopping until she saw how expressionless his lightless eyes were. No heartbeat. Her own pulse hummed madly as she struggled for breath. She knew she couldn't help him and she fled, doing all she could to get away. But every direction seemed to lead to a greening dark and the noises were closer to her now, nameless howls which drowned out her own terror. She broke a tree, clutching a branch to direct herself, perhaps defend herself from whatever this was.
It wasn't long until the black dog came to face her, raggedly destroying the space between them with savage lunges. She charged to meet it, stick in hand. "Get away," she screamed. "You get away from me! Leave!" She struck its muzzle as it came to attack, slowing and enraging it. It would come for her throat next, she knew. Faster than she knew her hand could move, she gouged its eye and the scream she heard was uncanny. It snarled viciously, shaking down to its huge paws and she tried to brace herself for whatever would come. The beast raised its twisted head, not towards her, but to stare far off and it turned and padded off into the darkness. The gaps between light and gloom were now her only orients and she was swallowed up by the lonely feeling of utter directionlessness.
Clara rushed onwards, reasoning that to end up somewhere was better than waiting for a space or thing to come upon you. As her eyes struggled with the gloom, her sense of smell heightened, the rusted tang of blood haunted the air. She picked at her fingers. The boy could only have been injured in such a way by one person and Clara knew that meant that she had returned for her. She remembered the Spider. The dead boy had just been a pawn, her message and she had trapped him with a lie. From the first day Clara had met the Spider, her words had been irresistable, suggesting immortality, dominance, crushing the difference between right and wrong into a merely abstract premise. It was a very special kind of lying, beyond anything even drugs could do. After a while, you'd believe anything she said. Believe you must kill to survive. Believe you were dying yourself. Believe you were haunted. And the black lies grew like a poisonous seed until the parasite was greater than you.
Her fantasies were shredding apart, it had all been so like a fairytale to begin with she should have known it meant only that she was being called back. No way to fight the bad wolf when it was inside you. No way to know you were killing someone innocent instead. Now the pictures were coming together, she saw that the darkness had been coming from within her, then she'd thought of getting the kid. The tortured image of the yellow-eyed wreck was replaced by one of a kid with light-up trainers and cheeks too fat for his little face. She hadn't left the backstreets by her home, it hadn't taken her any length to find someone to kill. Yet the emptiness was real and she didn't know why her frenzy had gone unnoticed. Then she heard the sounds of sirens blaring in the background and guessed she was not the only one.
From the number of ambulances and fire brigades, she supposed that this one had gotten many, maybe throttled them with hands that he hadn't even known were his own. He was probably awakening now and that was what the Spider would thrive on, the arousal of monstrous guilt. She had walked through the city and she followed the noise of the crowds, all staring in one direction. He stood on the top of the building, shaking and alive to his own monstrousness. She heard him screaming that he was innocent, he hadn't ever known what it was that he did. The screams were inhuman noises, siren calls for an interior world that had fallen apart. Oh, how the Spider would laugh, Clara shivered at the thought. If he didn't jump, the Spider would make sure he never stayed in prison, she had ways of making just about anything happen, especially for the ones she had truely captured. Yet she hadn't gotten to Clara for years. Who was to say that one day Clara might not escape forever? She prayed she might for she doubted death would be a comfort to her twisted soul, nor to his. For the first time in a while, she found her voice and supposed her thoughts must finally be her own. Maybe they could fight her together but she was nauseated by the thoughts of who they might they sacrifice to do that. Long lost empathy flooded back to her and she remembered how she had felt the first time it had happened to her. Wondering how alike to the boy she had once been, she commanded her thoughts and she thought of him:
I know that it is the truth. Air drains from my lungs as I stare upwards, so high that the depth between us is another world to cross, another unbreachable chasm through which words cannot break. If I shout out will anyone listen or will the ground catch you before hope could intervene? I imagine your pitted eyes, your shaking frame and I wonder if the Spider watches you right now. I could save you, but at what cost? Your guilt is a lie, but a lie that would save others. I know to whom the bloodtrail leads and I freeze in the knowledge that any decision I choose will make me a murderer. .
Clara screamed aloud, "Don't move, I know this isn't your fault! This is not your fault, it isn't, and it wasn't mine either." She screamed the words again and again, until it was the only noise she heard inside her head, until it couldn't have been anything other than the truth.