Monthly Archives: July 2016

Somewhere, someplace, sometime; 20th instalment

He kept on pulling and twisting his hands and finaly got one free. He sighed and rubbed his bloody and bruised wrists. He wanted blood.

No, he didn’t, he didn’t want to kill again. Yes he did, he wanted the soft meat of a woman.

No! He wanted to stay here and sleep.

Slowly he got to his feet, feeling a little dizzy and started to walk around in the light of the moon and the floating lanterns that shone through the dirty window.

He needed to get a grip on himself, to shut out the scream for blood. He didn’t want to kill anymore. He wanted to get rid of the coat so he could live his miserable life again.

He felt all kinds of things run through him, feelings he had never felt before, longings that had not been there before. As he walked by the window he looked and walked on, only to stop dead in his tracks.

Very slowly he took a few steps back and looked at his reflection in the window again. He saw himself as he knew he would, but what had he seen then as he walked passed the window only a moment before.

It had been something he had not seen before, something that wasn’t him.

His face stared back at him thoughtfully. As he kept on looking he saw some changes coming and going rapidly. Changes he could hardly discern, but it looked like horns growing out of his head.

He walked away from the window breathing hard. What was happening?

Again he felt the lust for blood and again he mananged to surpress it, though it was harder this time as he was thinking about what he had seen in the window.

He blocked out all feelings as he sat down by the pillar again and looked at the rope that had bound his hands. He had done that for a reason, but he couldn’t remember it.

Sighing hard, he remained seated and looked at his hands that flickered between his normal hands and the long fingered clawed hands he didn’t want to see.

 

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Somewhere, someplace, sometime; 19th instalment

‘You can invite evil to come?’ she said surprised. ‘Then why don’t we invite the counterforce to come here?’

The priest laughed softly. ‘It doesn’t seem to work like that. Evil resides all over this world as it has been turning worse every year. All people care about is there amount of credit and their own well being. The amount of poor people have been rising steadily over the last few years. People don’t seem to want good to be around anymore. But we are not here for a lesson in history, we have to help that man to get rid of his coat.’

‘And that will help to counter the evil that’s around,’ she remarked facetiously.

He looked at her seriously. ‘Every little bit helps. Every victory, now matter how small, weakens the evil. What did you see by the container?’

She blinked at the sudden change in topic. ‘When I was on top of a building and looked down on it, I saw a vortex of swirling colours on the roof.’

The priest smiled. ‘Right, that is what I suspected. It is another weak attempt to get over here. Somehow the evil doesn’t seem to be gaining strength on the other side.’

She frowned. ‘Are your people working over there too?’

He nodded. ‘Yes and they have powers that equal the powers of the evil, so a sort of balance is maintained.’

‘What do we have to do?’

‘ Close the vortex, for one and that will be the hardest part and the man with the coat will have to do it. Now be silent so I can study on how we can get that done.’

 

The man woke up in the middle of the night as he was pulling hard at the ropes that tied him to the support beam. He looked at his wrists that had turned bloody. Whether he wanted or not he still tried to get free of his bonds. Breathing deep he tried to calm himself down, but it didn’t help.

He didn’t notice that his hands had turned into claws with long, sharp, yellow nails.

Somewhere, someplace, sometime; 18th instalment

‘So bad?’ the priest asked.

She nodded as she walked to the cabinet to take out a bottle of strong liquor.

He frowned again as the girl hardly ever drank strong alcohol. That she did now must mean things were worse than he had suspected. ‘Did you get the address?’

‘Part of it,’ she said after a big sip. ‘Then I was attacked by the container.’

‘How can a metal box attack you?’ he asked, raising his eyebrows.

‘It did, ot whatever was inside it,’ she mumbled as an afterthought.

‘Where did the container come from?’ he asked undisturbed.

‘The Devil’s Den; Binkare,’ she said and felt a sort of electric shock go through her as she said the words.

The priest saw her convulse for a moment and squinted his eyes. ‘The Devil’s Den,’ he mused. Just to see if he would be attacked too when he spoke the words aloud, but nothing happened to him. ‘Binkare,’ he said softly, looking at the book when he felt a small shock.

‘You are into something that goes way beyond you,’ the girl said, pouring herself another glass. ‘This is somethig  big. Bigger than they ever tried before.’

‘Apparently,’ the priest said, opening the book at the chapter he had been reading. ‘Ah, here it is; Binkare.’ A small shock went through him again. ‘A big harbour town where evil is supposed to reside.’

The girl looked at him. ‘Evil resides there? How can people live there?’

‘They must as they are the ones that made the clothes. Pour me one too, will you?’ he asked reading more.

‘Don’t you want to know what happened to the man with the coat that was here?’ she said putting the glass on the table next to him.

‘Not particularly,’ he mumbled. ‘I can imagine what has happened to him. I hope he will remember to tie himself up before going to sleep tonight.’

‘What is going on?’ the girl demanded.

The priest sighed and leaned back. ‘The west has been trying to get hold of these lands for centuries now, but they have always failed. They invited evil to come to live there, so to speak, to give them a hand.’

 

Somewhere, someplace, sometime; 17th instalment

‘Bewiched you say,’ the policeman smiled and looked at the barman, that didn’t.

The policeman frowned, wasn’t this man a drunk?

‘How come all evidence points to the alley’s?’ the man with the coat asked.

‘There was dirt and rubble all over the place,’ the policeman said. ‘Where else would that come from?’

‘Tried the waste container by the building?’ the man asked. ‘I think you law enforcing people turn this way to easily and quickly as you don’t want your own kind to be the perpetrator.’

The policeman knew the man was right. Most crimes in his world were fraud and theft, not murder.

‘Should he tell the policeman about the container,’ the man thought. ‘No, better not, or they would have a killing policeman to contend with.’

He took another swig of his drink when a thought struck him. ‘You might go looking at stores that sell clothes from the west,’ he suggested.

‘The west?’ the policeman frowned. ‘Why the west?’

‘Not everything from there is what it seems,’ the man said, draining his glass and walking to the door.

He had to find a place to sleep tonight where he could tie himself up real good. He thought about the empty building near the hotel and decided to go there. As he walked he looked around to see if he could find pieces of rope or something else to use as bonds. He found some rope and hoped it would be enough to keep him in place, he didn’t want to murder someone again this night.

The building was empty and he made his way to the first floor where he knew a support pillar to be. Sleeping would be uncomfortable, but that was better than the other thing. He used his teeth to pull the rope tight and hoped for the best as he lay down with his arms around the pillar.

 

The priest looked up as the girl entered his study. Her ashen face made him frown. What had happened?