Paragon of the Cursed Ones

23:14, near the bay side of Firth and Forth, Edinburgh. A marvelous landscape for the naked eye, but such a dreadful sight for a troubled mind. Scott took rock by rock and threw them into the shallow waters of the enigmatic and luscious river. It was his habit, after all, to go there and clear his mind of any lingering thoughts that wouldn’t let him rest. However, this time was different.

It looked like the once peaceful darkness, in which he always found comfort, turned on him. It felt like the last beacon of hope had left him and slowly, but surely, a malevolent drive was building up in him, just as if it was ready to burst any time then. He made desperate efforts to shift his focus, to stop thinking about it, but it was too late for that. Looking at his phone, he saw several messages and missed calls from his girlfriend, Abby. ‘I knew I couldn’t fool her, she is too smart, as much as I don’t want to acknowledge it’, he thought to himself. Of course she knew something wasn’t in place, at no time before then had he neglected her in such a manner.

Scott never thought it would really happen, no, not to a man like himself, so unsure of his own abilities. He often wondered, in a foolish and childish way, why others were blessed with the gift that seemed to dodge him on every occasion. Yet, on that day, providence had finally proven him otherwise. At first, he felt like all his dreams had been fulfilled. He obtained pure knowledge, but at what cost?

The hour was now exactly ten minutes to midnight and he decided he could not bear it anymore. An unworldly venom filled his veins right now, wickedly rejecting any form of sane opposition. As such, it was settled.

Abby lived close to the river-side, in an average, but sufficing house. She was the kind of person who put minimum thought on the materialistic aspect of life, striving every day to enrich herself, rather than her surroundings. She had only a few trustworthy persons in her life, besides Scott. Nevertheless, she liked things to stay that way. The passion for him was the single everlasting pillar of her world, keeping her heart warm after the death of her adoptive parents. Bringing joy to his first and last, a stray soul who experienced maybe too much for one lifetime, came so naturally to him, as though it was written in the stars.

As the clock lastly struck midnight, she heard a firm knock coming from the door downstairs. Frightened a little, she immediately got out of bed, as her insightful intuition told her that it was Scott. Truthfully speaking, she couldn’t have been more right.

The animal just charged in, pushing her directly onto the floor. Just by slightly glaring at him, she concluded that he finally transformed into the sick ideal he used to tell her about occasionally. Still dazed from the impact, she began realizing how mistaken she had been at correlating those episodes of him with sheer wildness, when there was so much more to it than she could ever possibly hope to understand. ‘Stay down and don’t speak a word’, he yelled, in the utmost brutal way one could imagine. He took a knife from the nearby counter and, seemingly unbiased, as though it was expected of him, Scott began carving his chest in a very distinct and symmetrical way, slowly moving towards his heart. As he gracefully went on with his madness, he started speaking to her, taking a reciting, almost ritualistic position. 

‘Under no circumstance should you ever delve into the uncanny, the occult. Pleasure yourself from this moment on, leave my woes behind and you shall ascend to a higher state of existence. As strange as it may seem, you are a better person than I ever hoped to be. This storm will pass and better moments will unfold before you, but only if you carefully listen to me. Only in death, will you learn the truth that lead to this very juncture. Hatred and anger are going to govern you for a time. Obscure in nature, this is my farewell to you and only you.’

As this last phrase came out of his mouth, the last drop of sanity he may have had left, deserted him. He began to slit his throat, right in front of her. Acceptance was written all over his expression, while she cried hopelessly at the horrific sight of him, her beloved. Blood was dripping everywhere, covering the cold floor almost instantly. Her whole body was trembling and, in the shock of the moment, her first instinct was to pick up the same knife that Scott used and end it all right there, alongside him. It all felt as if nothing made sense anymore, without him to grip her tight into his arms one last time and tell her it was all going to be alright. She took the knife and positioned herself right next to his lifeless body. Holding the knife, she screamed in agony, readying for the final step. But, as she merely came to terms with her own mortality, one last epitaph required her attention. Through the tears, she saw a note, converging from the left pocket of his dirty, stained coat. It was completely untouched by Scott’s tainted blood, having been written in such calligraphy and artistry that even death could not stop Abby from reading it.

Her hair was blonde and it took some time,

To realize what she meant in all this climb.

My Abby was light,

Keen hearted on not losing the fight.

Many say, that as nightmares fade away,

Perfect beings start to contemplate.

Even black dogs ran at the sight of her,

Leaving most of us in a box, shaped of gold.

That being said, I guide my steps on more; And that completes my pitch-black show.

It was at that moment that time stopped for a few seconds, when a powerful entity made its presence felt. Abby’s vision darkened, while her body paralyzed slowly. Something didn’t want her to face the same fate as her loved one. Now, it was all so silent. Serenity took the place of desperation. Whispering voices and hollow images clouded her mind, as chaos slowly penetrated. One could think that it was just her mind, playing tricks on her. Sadly, this was not the case.

To this day, the death of Scott remains embellished in an aura of mystery. What force could have driven him to such extents, to the point of no return and why did he choose that particular night to do such an unspeakable thing? 

Abby could only recall being awakened in a hospital room. Someone that looked like a doctor told her that she had been in a coma for two weeks and that it was a miracle that she awakened. After she somewhat came to her senses, the doctor asked her if she remembered anything. ‘No..’, she answered, in a very unsure and suspect manner. ‘Well, Ms. Rutherford, your neighbours found you all covered in blood in your own home. The lab tests came back and the blood seems to belong to a certain Mr. Knightley, who went missing, surprisingly, on the same day that you were found.’ As the doctor continued questioning her, she became more and more aware of the situation that unraveled before her eyes. Who could perceive the terrors that roamed her intellect during that two weeks spent in the absolute void? If there is one thing that Scott failed to warn Abby of, it is that unconsciousness can bring you to utter insanity, not because of its ambiguity, but more of its undesirable authenticity.

Suddenly, it all started to come back to her. After seconds of silence, the befuddled look on her face took the shape of an inanimate, quite grotesque one as she inadvertently started shouting at him ‘Gazing upon all your tormented, guilty souls will be such a delight. Chance made you my witness, and witness you shall, you poor, misfortunate being. I took him, as I will take her. Fear the unknown, for it will be the doom of all humanity and my ceaseless satisfaction.’ Abby’s pulse jumped to outrageous values, as life left her in a wink. The doctor could not believe his eyes, nor his senses, having been rendered speechless.

Weeks became months, months became years, but the memoir of that day still shook the doctor from all his corners. His career lead him to believe that death is peaceful, a final step towards eternal rest. Yet, now that he had glimpsed through the curtains, nobody can blame him for thinking differently.

Evil Incarnate, I say. Though its methods should remain unexplored, the mystical eludes us still.