It had been so many years since James had been here. Yet, deep in his heart, James knew he had never truly left.
He was surrounded by pure darkness, not a single thing visible in front of him. Yet, even with all of this, he knew instinctively where he was. Something about this place, this town, called out to his very genes.
Martinville.
The place where he had grown up. The place that had caused him so much pain, even all these years later. The place that molded him, only to break him into a million pieces. This town had been hell, and it seemed that he had been condemned to it for eternity.
As if it knew his thoughts, two small trails of fire began rolling forward, outlining a poorly paved path. There was something truly horrible at the end of the trail. Turning around, he made to run as far away as he possibly could. However, when he turned, he saw only that pitch black darkness. While he could hear the fires behind him beginning to roar, the darkness had a sound of pure emptiness.
If he walked any further, he knew he would fall into pure oblivion. There would be no more James. The only thing that would remain would be a hole where he had once existed, one that would be quickly filled and forgotten about.
The truest form of death. To be forgotten by the entire world.
What choice did he have?
Turning back towards the path, he noticed the fire had grown in height. In the flickering lights behind them, he saw only trees and shadow.
There was something about this path in front of him that he couldn’t quite pinpoint. It felt familiar. There had never been any fiery paths in Martinville that he knew of, but it felt like this space in particular was calling out to him. Why, though?
Beyond the flickering flames and the tall trees, though, he could feel something stalking his movement, like a snake waiting to jump at its prey. James had the distinct feeling that the only thing protecting him was the fire that surrounded the path. Without the light, whatever it was would rip him apart, devouring each piece of him, while keeping him alive long enough to feel all his pieces be torn asunder.
It wouldn’t do this just to eat and sustain itself.
The thing beyond the trees was angry. It was fury itself, and it had aimed itself directly at James.
Why was this thing haunting him? James had always made it a point to keep himself as in the shadows as possible. He never liked the spotlight. It always made him freeze, like a deer in the headlights of life. And like the deer, he would fail to move out of the way before being slammed into. He would usually escape injured, with deep pain that lingered long after, but life kept on driving on, barely taking notice.
James had never actively tried to do harm to anyone in his life. Yet deep within, he felt the Catholic guilt he had been raised with bubbling to the surface. He must have done something to anger the beast. Otherwise, why would it stalk him so fervently?
It was a circular logic, but it was always one he found impossible to escape. Even if he could not think of anything he had done to harm that beast, the only reason it would stalk him this hard was because of some slight done to it. Yet, each time he thought about it, James came up with nothing.
Clearly something was getting impatient with his meandering. The lights at his side had begun to flicker down, while the lights ahead of him remained bright. If he didn’t pick up his pace, he would be swallowed whole by the darkness, as well as the thing that he could now hear letting out a loud huff sound. It did its best to hide from him, moving between trees quick enough that James always just spotted its movements out of the corner of his eyes.
More concerningly, the darting seemed to shift between the different sides of the trail. At one moment, it might be on his left side, and then, with a terrifying speed, he would spot the darting movement on his right. The creature had to have been using the dark space behind him to run around the path.
It was impossible for it to be on both sides of the trail at once. Right?
James was trying to reassure himself that this thing, this beast, had to exist by the rules of the universe. Maybe it was a wolf or a coyote. But whatever it was, it was of this world, it had to obey the rules
What rules?
The thought came to him in a flash, as though it was one that had not existed within his own mind.
What world?
Again. These were simple questions, so of course he had thought of them.
No.
This time, there was a weight to the word. It was a weight that his thoughts had never held before.
James had always maintained that people often engaged with an internal dialogue, pondering options and making choices. And while most of them might not be an actual voice, James had found that putting a voice to the thoughts that floated in his mind helped him to give a sense of reality to the choices. It might not be the way everyone else did things, but it had done him well over the past thirty five years of life
This voice, though, was not the voice he had used.
Why would it be?
More weight to the words. Was this what schizophrenics felt like when they heard voices within their head? Did they have the same weight and realness to them that this one did?
Why would you think I’m inside?
James began to pick up his pace. As he did, he noticed the glow of the fires were dimming at a faster pace.
The huffing sound increased in speed to match his tempo. At the same time, he felt the sound getting louder, closer, as if the thing beyond the shadows was becoming more dangerous and daring.
He could feel the lactic acid beginning to burn in his legs and pressure in his lungs, as he moved from a walk into a jog. At the back of his throat, a cough began to form, begging for just a moment of respite.
The thing was closer now.
No time. No time for a break, no time for breath, the jog had begun to shift into a run. The cough began to escape, but James needed all the breath he could muster. He closed his mouth and tried to hold it back, as he knew it would take away all the oxygen he had been able to muster.
There was a weight to the darkness that James could feel nipping at his heels, like a rabid dog.
Faster and faster, James.
The hair on the back of his neck had begun to stand on end and goosebumps were forming up his arms. From behind, he began to hear a deep, wet breath. He didn’t dare to turn around, as he knew whatever was behind him would kill him if he did.
Instead, he kept running, pushing his body as hard as he could. From the periphery of his vision, he noticed that the darkness was now matching his pace, putting out the lanterns as soon as he reached them. The path had begun to take on small curves. Still pushing his body to its limits, each turn took a small amount of his speed away. He momentarily considered simply running forward, avoiding the small turns. But he knew that once he stepped off the path, he would fall into infinity.
James didn’t understand how he knew this. It was the same way that you always knew the sun would rise. It was a simple fact of reality.
However, he was unconvinced that it mattered anymore.
The darkness surpassed him.
As soon as it did, it was as if it had decided that it was done holding its speed back. All the lights went out and James was left alone in the dark.
Running would do nothing. He was out in the dark, with some kind of predator who intended to destroy him so that even his soul would be ripped to shreds.
James stopped and bent forward to catch his breath. His entire body burned as though even the suggestion of movement was no longer an option. The cough he had been holding released itself, loosening up material that had been in his body since birth. He saw no point in trying to cover his mouth. Even if he tried, his jaw had almost snapped itself off of his head as his lungs evacuated everything from within him.
Tears and sweat mixed in his eyes, causing them to burn with concentrated salt. He pressed his eyes closed, hoping that it would prevent further damage, but it didn’t matter. The salty fluid had entered his eyes and he could feel them reddening in pain.
James wanted to collapse. He wanted to kneel or fall forward. He didn’t care, it was all over.
Yet, as James stood there, bent over, he noticed something. Silence. He could not hear the creature’s deep breath or hear it trampling through the woods. The only thing he could hear were his heavy breaths.
Was it over?
James feared standing upright. Maybe the thing had simply lost track of him. If he stood up, would it notice him?
In response, he could feel his spine stiffening. He would either stand up now or he would be stuck here for eternity. It was now or never.
Extending up, he slowly opened his eyes to a new sight. While they were still blurry, his eyes noticed a fiery red in front of him. Wiping his eyes with his shirt, his mind tried to make sense of what was in front of him. A circle of fire on the ground surrounded a tree. Hanging from the tree, tied by a rope, was something large, wrapped in a blue plastic tarp. James knew, almost instantly, that it was a person. Whether it was hanging by its head or by its feet was difficult to tell. But somehow, James knew that wrapped up inside was a human.
He felt unsure of what to do. He didn’t have any kind of knife or scissors to cut the rope. Would it have even made a difference? What if it was a dead body inside? He needed to let somebody know.
At that moment, he noticed that the circle of fire had fully extended behind him, blocking him from leaving. Looking beyond the circle, James realized in horror that the creature now seemed to be completely surrounding the circle. The flames were building up, sparks popping higher and higher into the sky. He tried to look beyond the flames, yet was shocked when he realized that no matter where he looked, somehow, the being was there.
Something told James he needed to look away, or he would risk being pulled into the fire itself. His eyes followed the sparks upward to the dark sky. He noticed the branches and leaves trying their best to block out the night sky. James tried to look beyond them, to the stars that had to be above him. Finding a break in the canopy, his eyes locked into place, hoping against hope that seeing the stars would somehow break this mad delusion.
James was convinced he had finally found stars. Yet, when his eyes focused into the spot, he realized that he was actually seeing the shining reflection of the fire in the things eyes. Somehow, it had even stolen the night sky from him.
He tried to make sense of this thing. Was there more than a single one of them? Or, somehow, had this being been able to know exactly where James would look?
His eyes felt stuck, as though the being was forcing him to look into its monstrous gaze. He needed to look away. But if not beyond the circle, and not above, where else could he look?
James knew.
Somehow, he felt he had always known.
Lowering his eyes from the sky, James turned towards the tree and its hanging passenger.
The blue tarp had been tied tightly closed with electrical tape. Looking at the rope, he tried to make sense of exactly how the body was hanging. Was it upside down, the rope tied around its ankles? Or was the rope pulled tightly around its neck?
Does it really matter? It’s dead anyways.
The voice again. Only now, it was louder, demanding James’ attention.
It was angry. Furious even.
Of course I am, you fucking coward.
James felt like a child being berated. This thing was-
Yes, I am angry at you, personally. Just like everyone else is. You’re so fucking weak. We all know how weak you are. We’ve always known.
The voice had shifted. It was no longer stuck in his head. There was a third dimension to the voice, as though it had shifted into the world around him. Maybe this was how schizophrenics came to terms with hearing voices? Do they externalize the voices in their heads?
Or maybe you’re just trying to find a way to tell yourself that the world doesn’t despise you? Maybe you want to think that the people around you don’t know. But we all know, James. We all know.
It felt like the voice was taking on layers. While it was in his head, it felt ambiguous. It was genderless, formless, identity-less. Yet now, as it had shifted into the space around him, he noticed it was not just one voice. There were several voices, all speaking at once. Some of the voices were familiar to James, yet he felt unable to place where he had heard them. Others were completely unknown.
They ranged in age, in gender, in tone. Some spoke with a low growl. Others felt completely flippant. Yet they all were directed square at James.
Everyone knows the truth, James.
His ears were trying to understand where the sound was coming from. When the voice spoke outside of his mind, at first it seemed to surround him. Yet, the more it spoke, the more he realized it was coming from a single space.
We are where we always have been, James.
The tarp. The voice was coming from inside the tarp.
At once, James heard a distinct crinkle sound. He realized that the tarp was beginning to move.
The movement wasn’t especially pronounced at first. A slight swaying back and forth, left and right. A tire swing on a summer day.
It stayed moving that way for a minute, as the fires continued to go higher and higher around him. James wanted to run through the fire, hoping his clothes would keep him relatively burn free. As if in response, he noticed the flames getting wider, slowly shrinking his circle of safety. If he didn’t go now, he wouldn’t have another chance.
Turning away from the hanging tarp, James took a deep breath and pushed his left foot behind him. He took a deep breath, as he got closer to the flames. The popping and crackling of the fire had begun to roar in response to his defiance. He felt the temperature rising as he got closer to the angry wall of red.
To his shock, he swore he saw faces outlined in the bright orange and yellow. They seemed to be calling to him.
This is where you belong, James.
You won’t ever escape here.
You deserve worse than this.
He felt hypnotized by the faces, as though they were in full control. As he stared into the flame, he felt the lick of fire on his arm, as his body still propelled itself forward.
Maybe he should just stop right there? Maybe it was better to just give in. What was the phrase? It was better to burn out than fade away.
His mind had completely escaped him, hoping to shield itself from the worst of the pain.
There was a tingling on his skin. At first, it felt like rough wool scraping up and down his skin. Yet, even with the flames a few inches away from him, as the heat was causing his arm hairs to melt away, he barely registered anything. James had checked out and had decided to give himself away to nothingness. Once he reached the flames, he would stop and let them swallow him whole.
As his right foot reached the fire, he felt his knee begin to lock in place to prevent him from leaving through the other side of the wall. Somehow, against all odds, it was not the flames washing over him that brought his mind back to the forefront. It was, instead, a simple itch above his left eyebrow. The irritant somehow kicked him back to the present. The smell of the smoke filled his nostrils and he realized that his eyes were within inches from the flame.
James shut his eyes tightly and pushed with his left leg, hoping this final press would get him past the fire. His body was airborne for a brief moment. He felt himself rotating forward, as he realized he would not land on his feet. He began to move his arms to the front of him, preparing to fall flat on his face. At that moment, he imagined himself as a rotating pig over an open flame.
For as long as the jump had felt, the fall to the ground was almost instantaneous. He could feel pain on the palms of his hands, which were now raw from scraping on the ground. His hands had hyper extended backwards and his wrists had absorbed a large amount of the impact.
Thankfully, he had turned his face to the side. James had been terrified at the thought of his nose being pushed back into his skull, instantly killing him. The top of his cheekbone cracked hard against the ground. He was in pain and would likely need to be bandaged up, but at least he was alive. At least he had escaped.
James took a moment to breathe. The ground was cool, standing in sharp contrast to the rest of his body. Even without opening his eyes, he knew the ground was dirt, and he was thankful for it. In his younger years, he loved to play outside, even if he was all by himself, and he would often fall on the lawn in front of his house. Their closest neighbors were a half a mile away, and in those moments he felt truly free from everything. All his fears, his concerns. They were gone. All that existed was the ground and him.
Oftentimes, he imagined that maybe that was the life all of them had truly been meant for.
Soon after, his mother would scold him for getting his clothes dirty and he would be confined to his small room. The freedom of those moments had been worth it, though.
Enjoy it, because you’ll never have that feeling again.
He didn’t want to look up, as he heard the voice in front of him again. The voice had remained external and that meant one thing. But if he just kept his eyes shut, maybe it would just go away on its own.
Did that ever work?
No. No it hadn’t.
It hadn’t worked when he was alone in his room, avoiding another one of his mothers fits of anger. While his door had a lock on it, it was weak, just like him. One time, she had used enough force that the lock simply popped open, as though it had never existed in the first place.
It was the last time he used that lock.
Turning his head, he looked forward to the space in front of him. There it was. The tree with the wrapped body hanging from it. Around him, he saw the circle of flames had grown taller.
He had never escaped.
Somehow, he knew he could never escape.
The swaying of the body was now more pronounced. James noticed movement underneath the tarp, as well. The form was trying to loosen itself from its blue prison. As it tried to loosen itself, the swaying increased. He could hear the thing trying to move body parts in some veiled attempt to free itself from its prison. What started as small grunts, as the body tried to loosen itself, grew louder and more angry. It was furious
Then all movement from the body ceased. The swaying ceased and the grunts vanished. Even the crackle of the fire seemed to fully stop. It felt like everything in the small space was waiting to see what would happen next.
Something began to drip from the bottom of the tarp. The dark and viscous nature of it betrayed its identity. Blood.
James tried to make sense of why this thing would be dripping blood now, when he heard a voice come from inside the tarp. “Hello? Is anyone there? Can anyone please help me?”
This was not the voice James had now become accustomed to hearing. It was human. And it was frightened.
The voice was unfamiliar to James. It was weak and shaky. James felt his breath stop. Had he hoped whatever was inside had simply not heard him? The body spoke again. “Please, if someone is out there, help me.”
While the voice still wavered, this request sounded louder. It was as though whatever was inside was regaining its strength. Still holding his breath, James began to push himself up, hoping to not make any noise.
“Hey, I can hear you. Please help me.”
There was movement again from inside the tarp, but this movement felt more frantic. Whatever was inside seemed to be genuinely frightened and panicking. James couldn’t blame it, but what if this had just been a trap? What if that voice was trying to lure him in?
The drip of blood coming from the bottom of the tarp began to come faster. Beneath the crinkling of the tarp, there was a constant huff of breath as whoever or whatever it was tried to free itself. Now fully standing, James knew he needed to make the choice.
His body seemed to make the decision for him, as his legs began to push him towards the body. James called out, “I’ll get you out.”
As he reached the tarp, his hands extended out to try and stabilize its movement. He would need to fully examine this if he was going to help.
James noticed several spots where black electrical tape was wrapped tightly around. Whoever had wrapped this had not wanted it to escape. His fingers fumbled at the top row of tape, hoping to find its end so he could simply pull it off. Looking at his hands, he realized his hands were red and bleeding, a result from the fire and subsequent fall. His hands didn’t have the strength to simply tear the tape.
The voice inside called out again. “Hurry, please.”
Finally, James’ fingernails found the end of the tape. He scraped his nails underneath, and finally got a little bit of it free. Even if it was only a centimeter, it would be enough. James began to pull the tape around the body, trading it off to each hand as the tape rotated around the tarp.
Still, something felt wrong. It was as if one of his senses were screaming at him, but he couldn’t pinpoint which one. His mind was too wrapped up in pulling off the tape.
Finally, the top row of tape was fully pulled off. The top of the shape underneath the tarp seemed to loosen and slump in response. A morbid curiosity swept over him. He felt a need to know what this was, damn the consequences.
His hands moved down to a second row of tape. His fingernails did the same work, trying to find the end of the tape. Once they found it, he scraped the end up and began pulling.
He was aware of the ground beneath him becoming wetter. Looking down, he realized that the small puddle of blood had expanded and was now in the ground beneath him. Was it possible that by loosening and removing the tape, he was causing more damage to the thing beneath? Weren’t you supposed to keep pressure on a wound? Did the tape keep pressure and prevent the thing from bleeding?
James found himself stopping for a moment when the person beneath the tarp spoke again. “Hey, why did you stop? Please, please help me. Get the tape off.”
The tickle in the back of his mind became more of an itch, demanding he scratch it. How did this person know there was tape? Was it possible they were conscious when they were wrapped up?
“Please,” the voice pleaded again. James needed to decide now
Almost instinctually, he began unwinding the tape again. It was important to get this person out.
James realized he was no longer thinking of this as a thing, but as an actual human. The realization gave James a start. Didn’t it make sense, though? James heard a human voice coming from inside. It had the shape of a human. Whoever they were, they had been a human, just like him, with hopes, dreams, and fears. He couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t do something to help. Damn the consequences.
The second row was finally off. Looking down, James noticed there were two more rows. He could do this.
Still, the itch hadn’t vanished when he decided this was a human. He bent over to try and find the end of the tape. When he was unable to find it, James got on his knees and immediately felt the wetness beneath them. His fingers began scrambling to find the end. There was a distinct tremble to his hands.
All he needed to do was find the end of two more pieces of tape and he’d be as good as done.
His hands found the third end of the tape. They were on the opposite side of the tarp. Wrapping his arms around the person, he hoped that by using both hands, he’d finish the task even faster. Beneath the tarp, there was a warmth and a firmness. It felt human, but he couldn’t figure out which body part it was. James hoped it wasn’t their upper body, as if they were upside down, they would fall flat on the ground beneath them, likely getting soaked in blood in the process.
There. His mind screamed at him, as though it was desperate for him to notice something. But looking around, James only saw the flames reaching toward the sky. The pool of blood had expanded and was making its way closer to the fire. Even if the fire burned up a bit of blood, what would it really matter?
Finally, the tape on the third row came off fully. James noticed beneath him that the pool grew bigger. It was as if removing the tape caused more of the blood to flood out. Without thinking, his hands moved to the fourth row.
Why was there so much blood there? Why was the pool growing each time he removed the tape?
There was enough blood that James worried the person might have passed out. James called out, hoping that he’d get a response. “Hey, we’re almost there. You okay?”
His fingers found the end of the final row of tape. It came loose much easier than the other rows.
In response to his question, all he heard was silence.
He would need to hurry. The tendrils of the pool of blood were beginning to get closer and closer to the fire. James imagined the smell of copper inside had to be horrible.
Somehow, this thought clicked everything into place. Copper smell. That was what blood smelled like. Why didn’t he smell copper?
As his hands continued to unwrap the tarp, he inhaled a large breath through his nose. Not copper.
Gasoline.
Looking down, he realized that the pool was not blood, but gasoline. That wasn’t possible, though.
Yes it is.
The voice came from inside the tarp. Whatever it was had lured him here.
Tendrils of blood.
Not blood.
Gasoline.
Reaching the flames.
In an instant, the flame licked at the tendril of gasoline, lighting it. It snaked its way along the path, heading directly for him.
James wanted to run, but here on his knees, he had no time. Besides, he was covered in the stuff. He put his hands in front of his face and braced for the worst.
The explosion was a bright sun crashing into his world. He felt the flames for an instant, and then nothing.
He was no more.
Leave a comment