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Brian was down on his hands and knees trying desperately to get his breathing under control. It was all too much, and totally impossible to discern what was supposed to be real, and what was completely false. For a while he wondered if it were all real, but that didn’t make sense. He had died any number of ways, so it couldn’t be. Maybe, then, it was all imaginary; a twisted prevarication conjured up by his own mind. But to what extent? Did he have cancer or didn’t he? Was he dying?
And who the hell was Marcus?
Brian’s thoughts were interrupted when he heard someone call his name behind him. He had just thrown up and had a line of yellow drool hanging out of his mouth. He took the time to wipe this on his sleeve before turning to see who was calling him. At first he couldn’t see anyone, The voice called again, definitely a man, and it seemed to be coming from the entrance to Hastings Drive, which he couldn’t see, as his car was in the way. He got to his feet, and immediately regretting doing so. He was still feeling dizzy, and struggled to upright as the blood rushed from his head to his toes. Then the person calling him came around his car, and if Brian had any blood left in his face, it drained away then and there with expeditious swiftness. It was Micky.
Brian reeled in horror at the sight of him. His very dreams were impossibly coming to life. He turned to run away from the vision of Micky striding towards him like a sentinel of doom, but as he turned, his dizziness got the better of him and he tripped on his own feet to find himself lying flat on his face on the grass. He tried to get up while running forward at the same time, which only resulted in him jerkily hopping forward with his legs flapping about in a manner that would have been hilarious were he not completely terrified. While still trying to get upright, he looked back to see where Micky was, and suddenly slammed into something hard and unrelenting. He was sent spinning back to the floor gritting his teeth against a sudden spur of pain shooting through his skull.
After finally settling on his stomach, Brian risked a glance upward to see what he had just ran into, but all he could see was Marcus stalking toward him. He was clad in all black and looked more than a little unhappy. Brian tried to stand, but as he did so, Marcus reached him and stood all his weight on Brian’s left hand, pinning him in position.
Brian was left to look up into Marcus’ face, and noticed that his hair seemed to be longer now, and was flowing freely in the wind.
“Let me tell you something, Brian.” He began, and Brian was in no condition to do anything but listen “Fate is a very interesting concept. The idea that your life is pre-ordained by some higher power, that you are little more than a pawn I a grander scheme and that in actuality, you have no influence over the decisions you make in your life, where it goes, and ultimately, where it ends.
“You see, if fate applied to you, for example, then it was written from the day you were born that you would marry an adulterous cow, that you would work a job you can’t stand for a bank whose policies you disagree with, and of course, that you would get cancer and die before you live to be a father. Put that way, your life is pretty appalling, and has always been meant to be that way.
“A lot of people believe in fate, because their lives already lack meaning, and the idea that they might be meant for something is something they clutch to like squirrels would do to an acorn during the onset of winter. It is precious, the concept of being a part of a plan they can neither see nor understand. It is also folly.
“Look at the evidence. Children that are born into a loving family, but die only weeks later when a car piles into their pram at 50 miles an hour. Women in regions of Asia born or sold into slavery, where they become the unwilling sex objects of fat, sexually deviant international businessmen. Healthy men leading their lives, struck down by vicious and lethal diseases with no hope of cure or redemption.” As Marcus said this, Brian felt something tug at his feet from behind, and Marcus lifted his boot. Brian swung his head around to see what was happening in time to see Micky grabbing his ankles and yanking them. He was dragged for several metres along the floor before Micky threw his legs aside. The strength with which Micky did so was enough to turn Brian onto his right side, and was then greeted with a sharp kick into his back.
He tried to scream, but no sound came out of his mouth. He was flipped over again onto his back now, and Micky pinned his arms down with his knees. Marcus continued.
“Personally, I like to believe that our lives are our own. No-one controls our destiny. We write the story which is our lives, and nothing is pre-determined. Life is a blank piece of paper, and you need but imprint your own grand scheme upon it. It’s better that way, I think, and certainly better for you. Imagine if, on this piece of paper, you could erase the line that says you have cancer. Erase the terminal illness which threatens to snuff out a life that could otherwise be second to none.
“With that view there is hope. Your prognosis now is nothing short of tragic. But maybe it could change.” Brian had had enough, and had to speak up.
“You’re insane!” he shouted “There is no cure. No blasted cure. Any idea that I can just wish it away is just plain stupid.” As he said this, Micky got up off him, digging his knees into Brian’s arms as he did so, leaving him in too much pain to try to get up while he had the chance. Micky then grabbed Brian by the hair and lifted him up roughly.
“I can see,” Marcus said “that you’re not going to come around to my way of thinking without a little persuasion” and with that, Micky punched Brian in the stomach with inhuman strength. The wind was knocked out of his lungs so hard he couldn’t breath anything back in. The pain was overwhelming and he fell to the floor gasping raggedly and convulsing as though he were having a fit.
“I’ll tell you this straight Brian” Marcus continued “Your life does NOT have to end like this. You can be cured, if only you’ll co-operate.” Brian tried to sum up a retort but could do nothing other than mouth the word “impossible”. He was picked up by his shirt this time, and Micky greeted him face to face with a headbutt which broke his nose and sent blood streaming down his face. Again he was dropped to the floor like a rag doll.
“Nothing is impossible. This is something I’ve learned over the years, and something I will prove to you in time. But I can do nothing unless you help me do it. I’m in no position to take anything into my own hands. I need you Brian, and you need me. Only together can we make this work.” Brian was lying face down, and made no effort to reply. Micky grabbed him by the hair and pulled him up so he was sitting on his knees. His face was covered with blood now, and he was struggling to open his eyes.
After a few moments, he managed to gasp out “I just… want you… to leave me… alone.” The reply came in the form of another boot in the spine, hard enough to make something break with an audible snap sending waves of pain up through his entire body. This time, he wasn’t left to lie down for long. Micky picked him up again and physically threw him several metres through the air until a large tree was kind enough to bring an end to his flight. He hit it with a dull thud and bounced down onto the floor. He had felt several of his ribs break as he had made contact, and was now little more than a sobbing lump on the grass, showered with his own blood.
Marcus continued, and somehow Brian heard everything he said clearly “Think about it logically, Brian. Think about the dreams you’ve had over the last few days. In every one, you’ve died, and in every one, you’ve tried to escape death to the last. You tried to get away from it because you’re not ready to die. Because you don’t WANT to die. Given that, would it not make sense to accept the offer of the one person who can save you?”
Micky had walked up to Brian again now, and proceeded to pick him up yet again and pin him against the tree which had just broken his ribs. Micky then went about hitting him time and again in the face, in the chest, in the stomach and in the groin. Pain rattled Brian’s entire body in waves of increasing vehemence. He had never thought it possible to experience pain on this level, or anything near it. But even now, he resisted Marcus, and refused to believe that he was even real. Any minute now, he though, Micky would kill him completely, and he would wake up in his car, driving home, or already there.
“Still you don’t understand.” Marcus went on “Consider it this way. You can resist, perhaps, for the final six months of your mortal life. Do you think you could manage that? Six months of pain and suffering? Well, Here in your mind I can stretch a single second to feel that long. I can make you suffer for what will feel like CENTURIES! If you give me six months, I’ll torture you for millennia. Thousands upon thousands of years of unending agony and torment.
“Or you can relent, now, and the pain will go away. We will work together to bring about change the likes of which this world hasn’t seen since the dawn of civilisation itself. The choice is yours, Brian, and I suggest you choose wisely.” Brian listened as best he could while Micky beat him as though he were merely dusting a rug with rolling pin. There was no choice. If what Marcus said was true, there was no way he could hold out for so long. There was no way he could think of to shut Marcus out and leave him free to live what was left of his life. He had to give in to his demands, despite knowing that in doing so, he was essentially welcoming insanity.
He couldn’t even say to Marcus that he had given in. His jaw was shattered now, and his throat broken and useless. He should, by rights be dead by now, but somehow he lived on. Only his left eye functioned well enough to look back into Micky’s mocking face. But Marcus somehow sensed the change of heart, because Micky suddenly ceased his assault and let Brian drop to the floor. As he dropped, he found that he was completely unharmed. The pain disappeared instantly and there were no longer any cuts, bruises, swellings or breakages of any kind anywhere.
He got to his feet as Marcus walked over to him. As he approached, he leaned over and whispered into Brian’s ear “The man who was just beating you is the father of your wife’s child”. Brian turned to point a stunned expression at Marcus, but he wasn’t there any more. A feeling of pure cold ran through Brian’s body like wave of arctic shock. He fell to his knees and put his head in his hands. Somehow, he didn’t know how, but somehow he knew that Marcus was telling the truth.
His entire marriage was a preposterous lie. He had been utterly betrayed in every conceivable sense. The cold wave was replaced by another wave, this time the wave ran hot through his veins like molten steel. Rage curled his fingers into fists and ground his teeth in fury. He glanced up to see Micky, still standing there. The sight filled him with disgust and fueled the growing sense of pure outrage even more. He got to his feet and strode over to Micky to meet him face to face. He wasn’t as large now, and Brian could look him in the eye with only the slightest of upward angles. He stood there in front of him for a few moments as the sense of black hatred continued its crescendo. He vaguely heard a sound similar to that of rushing water in the back of his head.
Then the sound stopped. There was no noise, only Micky and Brian standing face to face. Brian felt an epiphany. Micky, his wife’s lover and father of her child, the man who had torn apart the family of a man doomed to an untimely death, had to die.
With that, Brian hurled himself at an unprepared Micky and proceeded, over the next few minutes, to tear him apart with his bear hands.
And who the hell was Marcus?
Brian’s thoughts were interrupted when he heard someone call his name behind him. He had just thrown up and had a line of yellow drool hanging out of his mouth. He took the time to wipe this on his sleeve before turning to see who was calling him. At first he couldn’t see anyone, The voice called again, definitely a man, and it seemed to be coming from the entrance to Hastings Drive, which he couldn’t see, as his car was in the way. He got to his feet, and immediately regretting doing so. He was still feeling dizzy, and struggled to upright as the blood rushed from his head to his toes. Then the person calling him came around his car, and if Brian had any blood left in his face, it drained away then and there with expeditious swiftness. It was Micky.
Brian reeled in horror at the sight of him. His very dreams were impossibly coming to life. He turned to run away from the vision of Micky striding towards him like a sentinel of doom, but as he turned, his dizziness got the better of him and he tripped on his own feet to find himself lying flat on his face on the grass. He tried to get up while running forward at the same time, which only resulted in him jerkily hopping forward with his legs flapping about in a manner that would have been hilarious were he not completely terrified. While still trying to get upright, he looked back to see where Micky was, and suddenly slammed into something hard and unrelenting. He was sent spinning back to the floor gritting his teeth against a sudden spur of pain shooting through his skull.
After finally settling on his stomach, Brian risked a glance upward to see what he had just ran into, but all he could see was Marcus stalking toward him. He was clad in all black and looked more than a little unhappy. Brian tried to stand, but as he did so, Marcus reached him and stood all his weight on Brian’s left hand, pinning him in position.
Brian was left to look up into Marcus’ face, and noticed that his hair seemed to be longer now, and was flowing freely in the wind.
“Let me tell you something, Brian.” He began, and Brian was in no condition to do anything but listen “Fate is a very interesting concept. The idea that your life is pre-ordained by some higher power, that you are little more than a pawn I a grander scheme and that in actuality, you have no influence over the decisions you make in your life, where it goes, and ultimately, where it ends.
“You see, if fate applied to you, for example, then it was written from the day you were born that you would marry an adulterous cow, that you would work a job you can’t stand for a bank whose policies you disagree with, and of course, that you would get cancer and die before you live to be a father. Put that way, your life is pretty appalling, and has always been meant to be that way.
“A lot of people believe in fate, because their lives already lack meaning, and the idea that they might be meant for something is something they clutch to like squirrels would do to an acorn during the onset of winter. It is precious, the concept of being a part of a plan they can neither see nor understand. It is also folly.
“Look at the evidence. Children that are born into a loving family, but die only weeks later when a car piles into their pram at 50 miles an hour. Women in regions of Asia born or sold into slavery, where they become the unwilling sex objects of fat, sexually deviant international businessmen. Healthy men leading their lives, struck down by vicious and lethal diseases with no hope of cure or redemption.” As Marcus said this, Brian felt something tug at his feet from behind, and Marcus lifted his boot. Brian swung his head around to see what was happening in time to see Micky grabbing his ankles and yanking them. He was dragged for several metres along the floor before Micky threw his legs aside. The strength with which Micky did so was enough to turn Brian onto his right side, and was then greeted with a sharp kick into his back.
He tried to scream, but no sound came out of his mouth. He was flipped over again onto his back now, and Micky pinned his arms down with his knees. Marcus continued.
“Personally, I like to believe that our lives are our own. No-one controls our destiny. We write the story which is our lives, and nothing is pre-determined. Life is a blank piece of paper, and you need but imprint your own grand scheme upon it. It’s better that way, I think, and certainly better for you. Imagine if, on this piece of paper, you could erase the line that says you have cancer. Erase the terminal illness which threatens to snuff out a life that could otherwise be second to none.
“With that view there is hope. Your prognosis now is nothing short of tragic. But maybe it could change.” Brian had had enough, and had to speak up.
“You’re insane!” he shouted “There is no cure. No blasted cure. Any idea that I can just wish it away is just plain stupid.” As he said this, Micky got up off him, digging his knees into Brian’s arms as he did so, leaving him in too much pain to try to get up while he had the chance. Micky then grabbed Brian by the hair and lifted him up roughly.
“I can see,” Marcus said “that you’re not going to come around to my way of thinking without a little persuasion” and with that, Micky punched Brian in the stomach with inhuman strength. The wind was knocked out of his lungs so hard he couldn’t breath anything back in. The pain was overwhelming and he fell to the floor gasping raggedly and convulsing as though he were having a fit.
“I’ll tell you this straight Brian” Marcus continued “Your life does NOT have to end like this. You can be cured, if only you’ll co-operate.” Brian tried to sum up a retort but could do nothing other than mouth the word “impossible”. He was picked up by his shirt this time, and Micky greeted him face to face with a headbutt which broke his nose and sent blood streaming down his face. Again he was dropped to the floor like a rag doll.
“Nothing is impossible. This is something I’ve learned over the years, and something I will prove to you in time. But I can do nothing unless you help me do it. I’m in no position to take anything into my own hands. I need you Brian, and you need me. Only together can we make this work.” Brian was lying face down, and made no effort to reply. Micky grabbed him by the hair and pulled him up so he was sitting on his knees. His face was covered with blood now, and he was struggling to open his eyes.
After a few moments, he managed to gasp out “I just… want you… to leave me… alone.” The reply came in the form of another boot in the spine, hard enough to make something break with an audible snap sending waves of pain up through his entire body. This time, he wasn’t left to lie down for long. Micky picked him up again and physically threw him several metres through the air until a large tree was kind enough to bring an end to his flight. He hit it with a dull thud and bounced down onto the floor. He had felt several of his ribs break as he had made contact, and was now little more than a sobbing lump on the grass, showered with his own blood.
Marcus continued, and somehow Brian heard everything he said clearly “Think about it logically, Brian. Think about the dreams you’ve had over the last few days. In every one, you’ve died, and in every one, you’ve tried to escape death to the last. You tried to get away from it because you’re not ready to die. Because you don’t WANT to die. Given that, would it not make sense to accept the offer of the one person who can save you?”
Micky had walked up to Brian again now, and proceeded to pick him up yet again and pin him against the tree which had just broken his ribs. Micky then went about hitting him time and again in the face, in the chest, in the stomach and in the groin. Pain rattled Brian’s entire body in waves of increasing vehemence. He had never thought it possible to experience pain on this level, or anything near it. But even now, he resisted Marcus, and refused to believe that he was even real. Any minute now, he though, Micky would kill him completely, and he would wake up in his car, driving home, or already there.
“Still you don’t understand.” Marcus went on “Consider it this way. You can resist, perhaps, for the final six months of your mortal life. Do you think you could manage that? Six months of pain and suffering? Well, Here in your mind I can stretch a single second to feel that long. I can make you suffer for what will feel like CENTURIES! If you give me six months, I’ll torture you for millennia. Thousands upon thousands of years of unending agony and torment.
“Or you can relent, now, and the pain will go away. We will work together to bring about change the likes of which this world hasn’t seen since the dawn of civilisation itself. The choice is yours, Brian, and I suggest you choose wisely.” Brian listened as best he could while Micky beat him as though he were merely dusting a rug with rolling pin. There was no choice. If what Marcus said was true, there was no way he could hold out for so long. There was no way he could think of to shut Marcus out and leave him free to live what was left of his life. He had to give in to his demands, despite knowing that in doing so, he was essentially welcoming insanity.
He couldn’t even say to Marcus that he had given in. His jaw was shattered now, and his throat broken and useless. He should, by rights be dead by now, but somehow he lived on. Only his left eye functioned well enough to look back into Micky’s mocking face. But Marcus somehow sensed the change of heart, because Micky suddenly ceased his assault and let Brian drop to the floor. As he dropped, he found that he was completely unharmed. The pain disappeared instantly and there were no longer any cuts, bruises, swellings or breakages of any kind anywhere.
He got to his feet as Marcus walked over to him. As he approached, he leaned over and whispered into Brian’s ear “The man who was just beating you is the father of your wife’s child”. Brian turned to point a stunned expression at Marcus, but he wasn’t there any more. A feeling of pure cold ran through Brian’s body like wave of arctic shock. He fell to his knees and put his head in his hands. Somehow, he didn’t know how, but somehow he knew that Marcus was telling the truth.
His entire marriage was a preposterous lie. He had been utterly betrayed in every conceivable sense. The cold wave was replaced by another wave, this time the wave ran hot through his veins like molten steel. Rage curled his fingers into fists and ground his teeth in fury. He glanced up to see Micky, still standing there. The sight filled him with disgust and fueled the growing sense of pure outrage even more. He got to his feet and strode over to Micky to meet him face to face. He wasn’t as large now, and Brian could look him in the eye with only the slightest of upward angles. He stood there in front of him for a few moments as the sense of black hatred continued its crescendo. He vaguely heard a sound similar to that of rushing water in the back of his head.
Then the sound stopped. There was no noise, only Micky and Brian standing face to face. Brian felt an epiphany. Micky, his wife’s lover and father of her child, the man who had torn apart the family of a man doomed to an untimely death, had to die.
With that, Brian hurled himself at an unprepared Micky and proceeded, over the next few minutes, to tear him apart with his bear hands.
Excellent work! The section relating to "fate" was memorable because it encapsulates my feeling on the subject.
I was reading it on the tube and was cringing in pain as I felt every blow Brian was receiving!
I was reading it on the tube and was cringing in pain as I felt every blow Brian was receiving!
Excellent.
I take it from this that the prelude is drawing to an end, and the real story starts to unfold now. Looking forward to the next installment.
I take it from this that the prelude is drawing to an end, and the real story starts to unfold now. Looking forward to the next installment.
I'll read it on the way home and tell you what I think tomorrow, IB.
Why thankyou very much.
You'll be pleased to know there's plenty more to come.
You'll be pleased to know there's plenty more to come.
Believe or not, I've been reading this story over it's various installments, and excellent it is too.
that should do wonders for my word count.
Brian was down on his hands and knees trying desperately to get his breathing under control. It was all too much, and totally impossible to discern what was supposed to be real, and what was completely false. For a while he wondered if it were all real, but that didn’t make sense. He had died any number of ways, so it couldn’t be. Maybe, then, it was all imaginary; a twisted prevarication conjured up by his own mind. But to what extent? Did he have cancer or didn’t he? Was he dying?
And who the hell was Marcus?
Brian’s thoughts were interrupted when he heard someone call his name behind him. He had just thrown up and had a line of yellow drool hanging out of his mouth. He took the time to wipe this on his sleeve before turning to see who was calling him. At first he couldn’t see anyone, The voice called again, definitely a man, and it seemed to be coming from the entrance to Hastings Drive, which he couldn’t see, as his car was in the way. He got to his feet, and immediately regretting doing so. He was still feeling dizzy, and struggled to upright as the blood rushed from his head to his toes. Then the person calling him came around his car, and if Brian had any blood left in his face, it drained away then and there with expeditious swiftness. It was Micky.
Brian reeled in horror at the sight of him. His very dreams were impossibly coming to life. He turned to run away from the vision of Micky striding towards him like a sentinel of doom, but as he turned, his dizziness got the better of him and he tripped on his own feet to find himself lying flat on his face on the grass. He tried to get up while running forward at the same time, which only resulted in him jerkily hopping forward with his legs flapping about in a manner that would have been hilarious were he not completely terrified. While still trying to get upright, he looked back to see where Micky was, and suddenly slammed into something hard and unrelenting. He was sent spinning back to the floor gritting his teeth against a sudden spur of pain shooting through his skull.
After finally settling on his stomach, Brian risked a glance upward to see what he had just ran into, but all he could see was Marcus stalking toward him. He was clad in all black and looked more than a little unhappy. Brian tried to stand, but as he did so, Marcus reached him and stood all his weight on Brian’s left hand, pinning him in position.
Brian was left to look up into Marcus’ face, and noticed that his hair seemed to be longer now, and was flowing freely in the wind.
“Let me tell you something, Brian.” He began, and Brian was in no condition to do anything but listen “Fate is a very interesting concept. The idea that your life is pre-ordained by some higher power, that you are little more than a pawn I a grander scheme and that in actuality, you have no influence over the decisions you make in your life, where it goes, and ultimately, where it ends.
“You see, if fate applied to you, for example, then it was written from the day you were born that you would marry an adulterous cow, that you would work a job you can’t stand for a bank whose policies you disagree with, and of course, that you would get cancer and die before you live to be a father. Put that way, your life is pretty appalling, and has always been meant to be that way.
“A lot of people believe in fate, because their lives already lack meaning, and the idea that they might be meant for something is something they clutch to like squirrels would do to an acorn during the onset of winter. It is precious, the concept of being a part of a plan they can neither see nor understand. It is also folly.
“Look at the evidence. Children that are born into a loving family, but die only weeks later when a car piles into their pram at 50 miles an hour. Women in regions of Asia born or sold into slavery, where they become the unwilling sex objects of fat, sexually deviant international businessmen. Healthy men leading their lives, struck down by vicious and lethal diseases with no hope of cure or redemption.” As Marcus said this, Brian felt something tug at his feet from behind, and Marcus lifted his boot. Brian swung his head around to see what was happening in time to see Micky grabbing his ankles and yanking them. He was dragged for several metres along the floor before Micky threw his legs aside. The strength with which Micky did so was enough to turn Brian onto his right side, and was then greeted with a sharp kick into his back.
He tried to scream, but no sound came out of his mouth. He was flipped over again onto his back now, and Micky pinned his arms down with his knees. Marcus continued.
“Personally, I like to believe that our lives are our own. No-one controls our destiny. We write the story which is our lives, and nothing is pre-determined. Life is a blank piece of paper, and you need but imprint your own grand scheme upon it. It’s better that way, I think, and certainly better for you. Imagine if, on this piece of paper, you could erase the line that says you have cancer. Erase the terminal illness which threatens to snuff out a life that could otherwise be second to none.
“With that view there is hope. Your prognosis now is nothing short of tragic. But maybe it could change.” Brian had had enough, and had to speak up.
“You’re insane!” he shouted “There is no cure. No blasted cure. Any idea that I can just wish it away is just plain stupid.” As he said this, Micky got up off him, digging his knees into Brian’s arms as he did so, leaving him in too much pain to try to get up while he had the chance. Micky then grabbed Brian by the hair and lifted him up roughly.
“I can see,” Marcus said “that you’re not going to come around to my way of thinking without a little persuasion” and with that, Micky punched Brian in the stomach with inhuman strength. The wind was knocked out of his lungs so hard he couldn’t breath anything back in. The pain was overwhelming and he fell to the floor gasping raggedly and convulsing as though he were having a fit.
“I’ll tell you this straight Brian” Marcus continued “Your life does NOT have to end like this. You can be cured, if only you’ll co-operate.” Brian tried to sum up a retort but could do nothing other than mouth the word “impossible”. He was picked up by his shirt this time, and Micky greeted him face to face with a headbutt which broke his nose and sent blood streaming down his face. Again he was dropped to the floor like a rag doll.
“Nothing is impossible. This is something I’ve learned over the years, and something I will prove to you in time. But I can do nothing unless you help me do it. I’m in no position to take anything into my own hands. I need you Brian, and you need me. Only together can we make this work.” Brian was lying face down, and made no effort to reply. Micky grabbed him by the hair and pulled him up so he was sitting on his knees. His face was covered with blood now, and he was struggling to open his eyes.
After a few moments, he managed to gasp out “I just… want you… to leave me… alone.” The reply came in the form of another boot in the spine, hard enough to make something break with an audible snap sending waves of pain up through his entire body. This time, he wasn’t left to lie down for long. Micky picked him up again and physically threw him several metres through the air until a large tree was kind enough to bring an end to his flight. He hit it with a dull thud and bounced down onto the floor. He had felt several of his ribs break as he had made contact, and was now little more than a sobbing lump on the grass, showered with his own blood.
Marcus continued, and somehow Brian heard everything he said clearly “Think about it logically, Brian. Think about the dreams you’ve had over the last few days. In every one, you’ve died, and in every one, you’ve tried to escape death to the last. You tried to get away from it because you’re not ready to die. Because you don’t WANT to die. Given that, would it not make sense to accept the offer of the one person who can save you?”
Micky had walked up to Brian again now, and proceeded to pick him up yet again and pin him against the tree which had just broken his ribs. Micky then went about hitting him time and again in the face, in the chest, in the stomach and in the groin. Pain rattled Brian’s entire body in waves of increasing vehemence. He had never thought it possible to experience pain on this level, or anything near it. But even now, he resisted Marcus, and refused to believe that he was even real. Any minute now, he though, Micky would kill him completely, and he would wake up in his car, driving home, or already there.
“Still you don’t understand.” Marcus went on “Consider it this way. You can resist, perhaps, for the final six months of your mortal life. Do you think you could manage that? Six months of pain and suffering? Well, Here in your mind I can stretch a single second to feel that long. I can make you suffer for what will feel like CENTURIES! If you give me six months, I’ll torture you for millennia. Thousands upon thousands of years of unending agony and torment.
“Or you can relent, now, and the pain will go away. We will work together to bring about change the likes of which this world hasn’t seen since the dawn of civilisation itself. The choice is yours, Brian, and I suggest you choose wisely.” Brian listened as best he could while Micky beat him as though he were merely dusting a rug with rolling pin. There was no choice. If what Marcus said was true, there was no way he could hold out for so long. There was no way he could think of to shut Marcus out and leave him free to live what was left of his life. He had to give in to his demands, despite knowing that in doing so, he was essentially welcoming insanity.
He couldn’t even say to Marcus that he had given in. His jaw was shattered now, and his throat broken and useless. He should, by rights be dead by now, but somehow he lived on. Only his left eye functioned well enough to look back into Micky’s mocking face. But Marcus somehow sensed the change of heart, because Micky suddenly ceased his assault and let Brian drop to the floor. As he dropped, he found that he was completely unharmed. The pain disappeared instantly and there were no longer any cuts, bruises, swellings or breakages of any kind anywhere.
He got to his feet as Marcus walked over to him. As he approached, he leaned over and whispered into Brian’s ear “The man who was just beating you is the father of your wife’s child”. Brian turned to point a stunned expression at Marcus, but he wasn’t there any more. A feeling of pure cold ran through Brian’s body like wave of arctic shock. He fell to his knees and put his head in his hands. Somehow, he didn’t know how, but somehow he knew that Marcus was telling the truth.
His entire marriage was a preposterous lie. He had been utterly betrayed in every conceivable sense. The cold wave was replaced by another wave, this time the wave ran hot through his veins like molten steel. Rage curled his fingers into fists and ground his teeth in fury. He glanced up to see Micky, still standing there. The sight filled him with disgust and fueled the growing sense of pure outrage even more. He got to his feet and strode over to Micky to meet him face to face. He wasn’t as large now, and Brian could look him in the eye with only the slightest of upward angles. He stood there in front of him for a few moments as the sense of black hatred continued its crescendo. He vaguely heard a sound similar to that of rushing water in the back of his head.
Then the sound stopped. There was no noise, only Micky and Brian standing face to face. Brian felt an epiphany. Micky, his wife’s lover and father of her child, the man who had torn apart the family of a man doomed to an untimely death, had to die.
With that, Brian hurled himself at an unprepared Micky and proceeded, over the next few minutes, to tear him apart with his bear hands.
And who the hell was Marcus?
Brian’s thoughts were interrupted when he heard someone call his name behind him. He had just thrown up and had a line of yellow drool hanging out of his mouth. He took the time to wipe this on his sleeve before turning to see who was calling him. At first he couldn’t see anyone, The voice called again, definitely a man, and it seemed to be coming from the entrance to Hastings Drive, which he couldn’t see, as his car was in the way. He got to his feet, and immediately regretting doing so. He was still feeling dizzy, and struggled to upright as the blood rushed from his head to his toes. Then the person calling him came around his car, and if Brian had any blood left in his face, it drained away then and there with expeditious swiftness. It was Micky.
Brian reeled in horror at the sight of him. His very dreams were impossibly coming to life. He turned to run away from the vision of Micky striding towards him like a sentinel of doom, but as he turned, his dizziness got the better of him and he tripped on his own feet to find himself lying flat on his face on the grass. He tried to get up while running forward at the same time, which only resulted in him jerkily hopping forward with his legs flapping about in a manner that would have been hilarious were he not completely terrified. While still trying to get upright, he looked back to see where Micky was, and suddenly slammed into something hard and unrelenting. He was sent spinning back to the floor gritting his teeth against a sudden spur of pain shooting through his skull.
After finally settling on his stomach, Brian risked a glance upward to see what he had just ran into, but all he could see was Marcus stalking toward him. He was clad in all black and looked more than a little unhappy. Brian tried to stand, but as he did so, Marcus reached him and stood all his weight on Brian’s left hand, pinning him in position.
Brian was left to look up into Marcus’ face, and noticed that his hair seemed to be longer now, and was flowing freely in the wind.
“Let me tell you something, Brian.” He began, and Brian was in no condition to do anything but listen “Fate is a very interesting concept. The idea that your life is pre-ordained by some higher power, that you are little more than a pawn I a grander scheme and that in actuality, you have no influence over the decisions you make in your life, where it goes, and ultimately, where it ends.
“You see, if fate applied to you, for example, then it was written from the day you were born that you would marry an adulterous cow, that you would work a job you can’t stand for a bank whose policies you disagree with, and of course, that you would get cancer and die before you live to be a father. Put that way, your life is pretty appalling, and has always been meant to be that way.
“A lot of people believe in fate, because their lives already lack meaning, and the idea that they might be meant for something is something they clutch to like squirrels would do to an acorn during the onset of winter. It is precious, the concept of being a part of a plan they can neither see nor understand. It is also folly.
“Look at the evidence. Children that are born into a loving family, but die only weeks later when a car piles into their pram at 50 miles an hour. Women in regions of Asia born or sold into slavery, where they become the unwilling sex objects of fat, sexually deviant international businessmen. Healthy men leading their lives, struck down by vicious and lethal diseases with no hope of cure or redemption.” As Marcus said this, Brian felt something tug at his feet from behind, and Marcus lifted his boot. Brian swung his head around to see what was happening in time to see Micky grabbing his ankles and yanking them. He was dragged for several metres along the floor before Micky threw his legs aside. The strength with which Micky did so was enough to turn Brian onto his right side, and was then greeted with a sharp kick into his back.
He tried to scream, but no sound came out of his mouth. He was flipped over again onto his back now, and Micky pinned his arms down with his knees. Marcus continued.
“Personally, I like to believe that our lives are our own. No-one controls our destiny. We write the story which is our lives, and nothing is pre-determined. Life is a blank piece of paper, and you need but imprint your own grand scheme upon it. It’s better that way, I think, and certainly better for you. Imagine if, on this piece of paper, you could erase the line that says you have cancer. Erase the terminal illness which threatens to snuff out a life that could otherwise be second to none.
“With that view there is hope. Your prognosis now is nothing short of tragic. But maybe it could change.” Brian had had enough, and had to speak up.
“You’re insane!” he shouted “There is no cure. No blasted cure. Any idea that I can just wish it away is just plain stupid.” As he said this, Micky got up off him, digging his knees into Brian’s arms as he did so, leaving him in too much pain to try to get up while he had the chance. Micky then grabbed Brian by the hair and lifted him up roughly.
“I can see,” Marcus said “that you’re not going to come around to my way of thinking without a little persuasion” and with that, Micky punched Brian in the stomach with inhuman strength. The wind was knocked out of his lungs so hard he couldn’t breath anything back in. The pain was overwhelming and he fell to the floor gasping raggedly and convulsing as though he were having a fit.
“I’ll tell you this straight Brian” Marcus continued “Your life does NOT have to end like this. You can be cured, if only you’ll co-operate.” Brian tried to sum up a retort but could do nothing other than mouth the word “impossible”. He was picked up by his shirt this time, and Micky greeted him face to face with a headbutt which broke his nose and sent blood streaming down his face. Again he was dropped to the floor like a rag doll.
“Nothing is impossible. This is something I’ve learned over the years, and something I will prove to you in time. But I can do nothing unless you help me do it. I’m in no position to take anything into my own hands. I need you Brian, and you need me. Only together can we make this work.” Brian was lying face down, and made no effort to reply. Micky grabbed him by the hair and pulled him up so he was sitting on his knees. His face was covered with blood now, and he was struggling to open his eyes.
After a few moments, he managed to gasp out “I just… want you… to leave me… alone.” The reply came in the form of another boot in the spine, hard enough to make something break with an audible snap sending waves of pain up through his entire body. This time, he wasn’t left to lie down for long. Micky picked him up again and physically threw him several metres through the air until a large tree was kind enough to bring an end to his flight. He hit it with a dull thud and bounced down onto the floor. He had felt several of his ribs break as he had made contact, and was now little more than a sobbing lump on the grass, showered with his own blood.
Marcus continued, and somehow Brian heard everything he said clearly “Think about it logically, Brian. Think about the dreams you’ve had over the last few days. In every one, you’ve died, and in every one, you’ve tried to escape death to the last. You tried to get away from it because you’re not ready to die. Because you don’t WANT to die. Given that, would it not make sense to accept the offer of the one person who can save you?”
Micky had walked up to Brian again now, and proceeded to pick him up yet again and pin him against the tree which had just broken his ribs. Micky then went about hitting him time and again in the face, in the chest, in the stomach and in the groin. Pain rattled Brian’s entire body in waves of increasing vehemence. He had never thought it possible to experience pain on this level, or anything near it. But even now, he resisted Marcus, and refused to believe that he was even real. Any minute now, he though, Micky would kill him completely, and he would wake up in his car, driving home, or already there.
“Still you don’t understand.” Marcus went on “Consider it this way. You can resist, perhaps, for the final six months of your mortal life. Do you think you could manage that? Six months of pain and suffering? Well, Here in your mind I can stretch a single second to feel that long. I can make you suffer for what will feel like CENTURIES! If you give me six months, I’ll torture you for millennia. Thousands upon thousands of years of unending agony and torment.
“Or you can relent, now, and the pain will go away. We will work together to bring about change the likes of which this world hasn’t seen since the dawn of civilisation itself. The choice is yours, Brian, and I suggest you choose wisely.” Brian listened as best he could while Micky beat him as though he were merely dusting a rug with rolling pin. There was no choice. If what Marcus said was true, there was no way he could hold out for so long. There was no way he could think of to shut Marcus out and leave him free to live what was left of his life. He had to give in to his demands, despite knowing that in doing so, he was essentially welcoming insanity.
He couldn’t even say to Marcus that he had given in. His jaw was shattered now, and his throat broken and useless. He should, by rights be dead by now, but somehow he lived on. Only his left eye functioned well enough to look back into Micky’s mocking face. But Marcus somehow sensed the change of heart, because Micky suddenly ceased his assault and let Brian drop to the floor. As he dropped, he found that he was completely unharmed. The pain disappeared instantly and there were no longer any cuts, bruises, swellings or breakages of any kind anywhere.
He got to his feet as Marcus walked over to him. As he approached, he leaned over and whispered into Brian’s ear “The man who was just beating you is the father of your wife’s child”. Brian turned to point a stunned expression at Marcus, but he wasn’t there any more. A feeling of pure cold ran through Brian’s body like wave of arctic shock. He fell to his knees and put his head in his hands. Somehow, he didn’t know how, but somehow he knew that Marcus was telling the truth.
His entire marriage was a preposterous lie. He had been utterly betrayed in every conceivable sense. The cold wave was replaced by another wave, this time the wave ran hot through his veins like molten steel. Rage curled his fingers into fists and ground his teeth in fury. He glanced up to see Micky, still standing there. The sight filled him with disgust and fueled the growing sense of pure outrage even more. He got to his feet and strode over to Micky to meet him face to face. He wasn’t as large now, and Brian could look him in the eye with only the slightest of upward angles. He stood there in front of him for a few moments as the sense of black hatred continued its crescendo. He vaguely heard a sound similar to that of rushing water in the back of his head.
Then the sound stopped. There was no noise, only Micky and Brian standing face to face. Brian felt an epiphany. Micky, his wife’s lover and father of her child, the man who had torn apart the family of a man doomed to an untimely death, had to die.
With that, Brian hurled himself at an unprepared Micky and proceeded, over the next few minutes, to tear him apart with his bear hands.