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Writer
Join Date: Jan 2005
Posts: 34
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A Gothic Tale
Hey there. Im new here, but feel free to give any comment you want, positive or negative, either one will help me. This is a piece I did for English Coursework. Bear in mind I also have to analyse it, so I was concentrating less on the actual story and more on language devices. Cheers.
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In the chilling January winds, the enclosing darkness spread over the old, decreped town and the ancient, crumbling buildings that lined it's narrow, cold grey cobbled stone floor. Looming high overhead, the buildings only gave an inch of skylight to any observer on the ground, creating an unnerving sense of claustrophobia, as the worn but proud old fashioned structures leaned purposely towards each other. Any sky that did struggle to meet the ground underneath was cast over with dark, forebearing storm clouds, with only the occasional beam of sharp light cutting swordlike across the dark, moss-ridden stone that appeared to be an almost constant theme in this town that seemed to have been left behind in time.
On this particular night, the streets that during the day were overrun with the hustle and bustle of the everyday goings on of the inhabitents, were deserted. No-one had ventured into the peircing wind that whistled menacingly throughout. It was the type of wind that would jab you all over with ice cold pins, leaving your hands blue and your cheeks red. It was the type of wind that seemed to get to every inch of your body, regardless of how much clothing you armed yourself with beforehand. The malignent tune of the whipping wind was further amplified by the fact that it was a solitary figure in the otherwise deafening silence that hung over the night, grasping its prey in a grip of terror and unseen horrors that lurked behind every corner, waiting for their oppurtunity. A damp smell hung over, and the occasional wisp of moisture hit the face, a remnant of the close proximity of the town to the ocean. However, you could be forgiven on this night for feeling there was nothing else out there, that the town was all there was, the large cities and civilisations a million miles away. Old fashioned ruins like this place could do that to person. Lock you in their way of life and never let you escape. It was not a pleasent evening then, by even the most daring and reckless beings perspective. All of nature seemed at this very moment intent on transforming this quiet town into an atmospheric dark setting that may very well have come out of the pages of Frankenstein or Dracula.
This picturesque mood was spoiled suddenly, by a disturbance that appeared out of the shadows at the outskirts of the town. A detached heavy clunking echoed through the town. Uneven, random, getting louder with each step. It soon was revealed to belong to a lone, robe clad figure that stumbled out of the darkness, their flagging body flailing across the road. Struggling to maintain balance and composure, the figure staggered hard into the side of a building, and slumped uncerumonioulsy to their knees.
To the casual obserever, this strange disturbance would be passed of as a simple drunk trying desperatly but unsuccesfully to make their way home after a night of slumming in the nearest bar, drinking away whatever troubles they had endured. Indeed, it was not an uncommon occurance in this area, as everyone seemed to have more than there fair share of problems, always finding there answers in the bottom of a grimy mug of strong ale. The local brewary often found more than one sullen occupent on a noght such as this, hollow, pale faces humped over a beer in the poorly lit establishment, a pitiful look in their eyes the combination of desperation, and quiet acceptance. Just another pathetic, damned soul, their staggering an ample metaphor for their pointles journey through life, never really finding what they're looking for.
But this figure was not drunk. Indeed, this figure was not even from these parts. A brave move on their part. Outsiders were not generally accepted with open arms. But desperation had forced their hand. High above, the clouds broke, allowing the faintest glimpse of moonlght to illuminate the figure. It was not a pretty sight. Their hooded robe stretched down to their feet, and was torn in several places. Rough, raged rips that showed signs of a struggle. Several dark red patches gave an ominous clue to that had casued these tears. A shaky hand potruded from the robe, and swept back the hood, revealing a man's face. blond, shoulder length hair matted with streaks of crimson hung scruffily from his head, while bony cheekbones vibrated almost uncontrollably, clattering teeth glaring from a wide mouth, which could be mistaken for a huge grin, but for the wide, blood shot eyes, which only confirmed that this was the grimace of pure terror.
The man looked around, not sure what he was looking for. He was in a dreamlike state, but at the same time alert to everything around him. Every crunch of gravel and every tiny detail of his surroundings were noticed. yet his brain refused to aknowledge that it was real. He couldn't possibly be here, for that would mean that the events that brought him to this place and point in time were also as real as the air around him. But still a part of his awareness kept that horrifying realization locked away, repressed deep down to protect his own sanity. What had happened to him was unreal, and he sorely wished it to be a bad dream. But a quick look down quickly dashed those slim hopes. The robe was pulled away to reveal a buttoned up white shirt. Three clean rips through the stomach area revealed three deep, fresh gashes across his visibly pale skin. Blood soaked the cloth around it, and some of the warm crimson liquid was still trickling out, the wound still fresh. In his lifetime, he had made several interesting distinctions about the type of blood that oozed from a man's body. And the bright red colour of this particular sample, extremely thin and runny in texture, gave him the unwelcome conlcusion that this was internal bleeding. The blood felt warm against his skin, and the sharp pain made him grimace whenever he moved. He had lost a lot of blood, and he was beggining to feel the effects. He felt weak, and lightheaded. His legs started to give way beneath him, strength seeping from his body. He could no longer stand and the stabbing cold air around him only made it worse. He had trekked here for miles, as fast as he could, every muscle burning with pain, but his fear burning with the desire to run, as far away from that place as possible. But even as he sat here, apparently safe for the time being from that monsterous, thing, and civilised life seemingly within touching distance. A part of him, buried deep inside, just at the edge of his concious awareness, already knew that it was too late.
All of a sudden, a burst of pain seared through him. It engulfed him. Every muscle, bone and nerve screamed at him that this was unbearable. Agony had reached a new definiton, as every inch was stabbed, he felt sure it was satan hinself peicing him again and again with his own pitchfork. The fire inside of him burned, unbearably hot. He let out a deafening, echoing scream that hung around the air, bouncing of the cobbled surroundings, And even through this undescribable pain, he knew it was too much. To much to have been caused by a flesh wound. To much to have been caused by a rabid dog. But he knew, oh he knew. It was no rabid dog that had attacked him. Something else had entered his flesh at the same time as those long, disease ridden teeth. Something unnatural. And that ungodly demon inside of him was now tearing at his soul; clawing, ripping, biting. Desperate to be released.
He staggered along, trying desperatly to stay on his feet, through the cold streets, past empty stores, his almost ghostly figure bouncing back from the dark window, barely visible, only the whites of his eyes glaring brightly back at him. Stumbling, arms flailing, his legs finally gave out, the last of his energy seeping out opf him, and he crashed forward, his skull impacting with a sickening crunch on the stone floor. His head split open, and dark, thick crimson spilled out of his forehhead. Finding its way into the cracks of the irregular stone floor and seeping along the road, creating little islands of stone surrounded by a deep red raging river of lifeforce.
Stars bounced in front of his eyes, his head throbbed. He looked blindly around, and caught a glimpse through the crack of skyline, where the unusally bright clouds, touched underneath by a glaring light source, were breaking, allowing a clear view of the night sky above. And making it's way into view, peeking out from behind the white lined dark clouds, came a huge, white orb that dominated all of the sky that was visible from the street below. Massive, and on this particular night, its full glory stading proudly in the black void of night, watching over it's inhabitants below. It's dull, distorting light creating dangerous new apparations for the people below, giving the impression thatg this was the evil, twisted younger brother of the majestic, noble Sun that burned brightly during the day. That huge eye in the sky was met directly by two terrified eyes below. And as the moon appeared in his pupils, the beast inside of him, found its way out.
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