The Receiver: The Darkman (Part 1) (362 hits)
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Submitted by MyTeeOne <My_Tee_One.at.hotmail.com> (View user info) at 2006-09-26 12:56:13 EDT
From TS Eliot's The Wasteland, 1922.
What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
And the dry stone no sound of water. Only
There is shadow under this red rock,
(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.
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Prelude: http://www.ubersite.com/m/84598
Supplemental tale: http://www.ubersite.com/m/85937
Kelly didn't believe in ghosts until she actually saw one in her new apartment. The little girl wasn't doing anything, per se, it was just her presence there that freaked Kelly out. The first time she saw the little girl Kelly screamed and left her apartment in such a rush she didn't even grab her keys. When she returned the next morning, all the chairs had been pulled out from the dinning room table.
For the next few weeks, things like that happened. The toilet paper was all unrolled one morning. Another time all of her remotes were in the bedroom instead of the front room, where all the electronics were. Still another time, her closet doors were open when she came home from work. She closed them, but found them ajar again when she returned to go to bed that night. Nothing big as individual instances, but together, it freaked her out.
She saw the little girl a second time when she fell asleep on the couch. Kelly had had a hard day at work and just wanted to relax. She came home, drank a few glasses of wine, and fell asleep on the couch watching the news. When she awoke a few hours later, there was the little girl standing there, starring at her.
The little girl didn't speak. She just starred. She was perhaps nine, give or take, and seemed healthy (despite being translucent). Her hair was thick and dark and her eyes were a very pretty shade of amber. Her little blue summer dress stopped just below the knees and she clung to the doll hooked in her right arm.
She mouthed something but Kelly couldn't hear her. The little girls' calm demeanor turned to fear as she looked over her right shoulder. She mouthed words again, this time appearing to yell, and tears stood in her eyes, but Kelly still couldn't hear her. In a panic, the little girl ran. She ran right past Kelly, who sat on the couch, eyes wide now, frozen in fear. The little girl ran maybe three strides and then vanished. She didn't go through a wall or fade away, she just wasn't there anymore.
This scenario occurred again the next night. And then again the next night.
Kelly was scarred. She started to worry about her sanity. Was she going crazy? Was this a reoccurring dream? What was she going to do? Should she call a shrink? A Priest?
When it happened the next time, something had changed. The little girl was starring at Kelly, like before. She said something, like before. She got scarred and yelled, like before. She ran, like before. She disappeared, like before.
But then, something else happened.
Kelly sat crying on the couch watching the scene play out again. The girl had vanished and this time...this time, she felt something else. After the girl had passed, she saw a...a what? A "glimmer?" Yeah, a glimmer is what it was. Like the heat bouncing off the road in the summer. A glimmer. But it wasn't heat; in fact it was suddenly freezing in her apartment. It didn't last more than a few seconds, but when the glimmer was in her apartment, it became freezing. And then it was gone and the warmth returned.
Again, she questioned her sanity. She believed in ghosts now, for sure. And the little girl looked like she was in trouble. It looked like the little girl was being chased by something else. She didn't want the first ghost in her home, let alone a second one.
She had to talk to someone. She had to tell someone. Whoever it was, maybe they would think she was crazy, maybe they would believe her, whatever. She didn't care anymore. She was scarred to go home, she couldn't sleep, and when she did sleep she awoke at every little noise. She had to tell someone.
Finally, she told her friend Derrick. Kelly didn't believe in ghosts until last month. She didn't believe in fate either. At least, not yet.
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Derrick, of course, didn't tell Kelly about his abilities. Kelly had been through enough lately and she was the type who...well, seeing was believing for Kelly. So, he simply agreed to "spend the night on the couch to see if she was crazy."
On the way home Kelly thought to herself "He must thing I'm crazy. Or, at least, some scarred stupid kid. But I know what I saw. No matter what he thinks, I know what I saw." Kelly knew Derrick pretty well but, as it turns out, not all that well.
It was just after midnight when the little girl appeared, and as always, Kelly woke up. She was the one who ended up on the couch while Derrick volunteered to take the chair. He had no intention of sleeping anyway. Kelly awoke to find the little girl in her apartment and Derrick kneeling on the floor in front of her. He didn't look scarred. In fact, he was quite calm.
"Hello there," he said. "My name is Derrick."
The little girl's mouth moved, but Kelly couldn't hear the words. She just watched the scene play out in front of her. Much to her surprise, the scene changed this time.
"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you Margaret," said Derrick aloud in a sweet voice. "And it's a pleasure to meet you too, Terry," said Derrick to the doll, now being held out in front of the little girl, whose name was apparently Margaret.
Again the little girl (Margaret, Kelly told herself) spoke and Kelly couldn't hear. She pointed at Kelly and Derrick turned to look for a moment, and then turned back. He thought for a second, and then spoke again.
"Well, that is my friend Kelly. She lives here now. And it's not that she can't hear you Margaret, she, like most people, kind of choose not to hear you. You see, it hard for some people."
"Oh, and you choose to hear," thought Kelly, shocked at what was happening. It was quickly followed by "Holy Crap, Derrick is taking to a ghost."
"Well, you see sweetie," answered Derrick to the question Kelly couldn't hear "some people are scarred of things they can't control, like you being here. Do you know why you're here?"
He seemed to pick those last few words very carefully. Kelly didn't know it, but he did pick those words carefully. It was never easy to tell a ghost they were dead if they didn't know. Derrick knew this. He was, after all, well trained.
"I see," said Derrick. "And why didn't you follow your parents up the light stairs."
Again Derrick listened to words Kelly could not hear. Kelly wanted to ask Derrick what was happening but still sat frozen in fear and amazement at the events happening in front of her. How in the hell was Derrick talking to this girl?
"The Darkman?" he suddenly asked, his tone becoming sharper. "Yes, I know him," he said to Margaret. "He and I have met many times. Want to know a secret?" he asked her, his tone softening again. Her eyes lit up and Kelly didn't need to hear her words to know she said yes.
"He doesn't like me very much," he said to Margaret. "Want to know why?" he asked, almost baiting her. Again, an obvious yes was Margaret response.
"Because I help little girls like you get past things like him to the light stairs. I am a warlock, and that's one of the things we do. Do you want my help to get to the light stairs?"
Kelly heard the yes, clear as day come out in a hopeful voice. It took a moment for what had just happened to register, but when it did, it hit Kelly hard. She HEARD the little girl.
"Then I will help you. Come give me a hug sweetie and we'll get out of here." The little girl came and hugged Derrick. She wrapped her little arms around his neck and he hugged back. Then, she slowly sank into his chest.
Derrick turned and looked at Kelly. When he spoke his words were calm and friendly, but commands none the less. "We need to get to the basement. Fast. He's coming."
For a moment Kelly just looked at him blankly. Her mind was having trouble accepting the things she had just witnessed and she was still trying to comprehend everything.
"Kel," said Derrick more soothingly this time, sensing her shock and fear overwhelming her "I know this is hard to understand. And I'll explain it all, I promise. But right now I need to get into the basement." He seemed to be breathing heavier the longer they sat there.
"OK," she finally managed to get out. She started to stand as she said it, and then stopped. She stood there, once again frozen. This time, she was not frozen in a state of fear, but in sheer panic.
Kelly saw her breath.
The temperature had dropped. Kelly had goose bumps rising on her arms and neck. Her teeth began to chatter in reaction to the sudden plummet of warmth. There was no glimmer this time. There was no haze this time. This time she saw it. This time she saw "him."
Kelly locked eyes with the Darkman.
User Reviews
Submitted by Jeanneee (user info) at 2006-09-28 12:07:08 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I finally got around to reading this! Very nice.
Submitted by Sacrilicious (user info) at 2006-09-27 21:15:54 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Good. I like this series a lot so far.
This one needs a good proofread.
Submitted by goferforhire (user info) at 2006-09-27 00:14:26 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
And good story, too
Submitted by goferforhire (user info) at 2006-09-27 00:14:11 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I FUCKING ADORE THE WASTELAND
Submitted by retrospect (user info) at 2006-09-26 13:59:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by MyTeeOne (user info) at 2006-09-26 13:58:00 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by inion_de_trua (user info) at 2006-09-26 13:15:24 (#)
Ranking: 2
and i loved the poem. even if you didn't write it.
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It's from the Wastelands by TS Eliot. I'm not into poetry much but that poem came across my path one time in high school. I love that last line - i will show you fear in a handful of dust. That is where the idea of the darkman came from. The receiver is a much longer story, but I imagined the darkman saying or writing something like that.
Submitted by MyTeeOne (user info) at 2006-09-26 13:49:50 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Holy crap, a GOOD from Method.
Hoodie is good Scourge. It drank all my beer the other night, which was a strange thing for a sweatshirt to do, but it went out and made a beer run, so I was happy. And man can Hoodie play poker. Some friends came over for MNF and we played Texas hold 'em. Hoodie won $100 bucks, which he promptly blew on women and booze. Hoodie is the best roommate I've ever had.
Submitted by MandaPanda (user info) at 2006-09-26 13:27:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Good stuff!
Submitted by TigerLilly (user info) at 2006-09-26 13:20:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Very good. Looking forward to the next.
Submitted by scourge (user info) at 2006-09-26 13:18:23 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
hello young man, how is my hoodie?
Submitted by inion_de_trua (user info) at 2006-09-26 13:15:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
and i loved the poem. even if you didn't write it.
Submitted by Method (user info) at 2006-09-26 13:12:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
GOOD!
Submitted by DeathJester (user info) at 2006-09-26 13:03:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
And there was me expecting Goatse with a brown filter.
+2 for not delivering.
Submitted by MyTeeOne (user info) at 2006-09-26 12:58:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
FUCKING WHITE SPACE!
This is part 1 of three. It's "meh" at best, but it needs to be told for part 2 and 3 to be any good.
Submitted by The_Cyst_Master (user info) at 2006-09-26 12:57:00 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This was so bad I didn't even read it.