By: Ali Khalil
“SIMON! Wake up, your father needs you.” Shouted Catherine. “don’t think I won’t drag you out of this bed myself! Ya lazy cumber-world.
“For the love of god ma, I’m up!” I yelled back. “Tell father I’ll be out in a minute, just need to put on a shirt.”
“A minute’s all you’re getting, if I have to wake you up again it’ll be a bucket of water that does the talking.”
I shot out of bed and stumbled onto the floor, the sweet symphonies of my mother’s hollering still ringing in my ear, made better only by the splitting headache I’d brought home with me from the tavern the night before. I had prayed to be woken up by a woman this morning, but it certainly wasn’t my mother I had in mind. Still, “better than being woken up by the dog,” I thought.
I grabbed the only shirt I could find, threw it on, and made my way to my father’s forge.
The sun attacked my eyes the moment I stepped outside, raising my arm to shield them I caught a whiff of myself and realized the dog may have tried waking me after all. Though it shone brightly, the sun did not seem to be affecting the weather, what should have been a hot summer day was, to my surprise, quite the opposite. No shadows, no clouds, and no wind to speak of, yet an unnatural chill wrapped itself around my body. By the time I made it to the forge, the clattering of my teeth had announced my arrival.
“You alright Son?” John asked, “You look terrible.”
There was too much work to be done for an honest answer, and though I appreciated my father’s concern, I knew he could not afford it, “I’m fine, I’m fine,” I said unconvincingly. “Tell me, what needs doing?” His eyes stayed on me for a moment, then he turned back to the forge,
“I need you to deliver something for me,” he said, wiping the sweat off his forehead, “you think you’re up to it?”
“You don’t mean what I think you mean?” I paused, “not the Brinklesworth sword?”
“Aye lad, it's ready.” He said as he unwrapped it and placed it on the table in front of me, it was the finest blade I had ever laid eyes on, every detail meticulously crafted from its razor edge to the fine leather clothing its hilt, I ran my hands across the blade, mesmerized by its ice-cold surface, and was immediately stricken with sorrow at the idea that such a masterpiece could be created by the hands of my father, but never belong to mine.
“Such a pity, a blade fit for a king destined to be possessed by one not worth a king’s arse.”
“Hush now boy!” John interrupted, “You wouldn’t want anyone around here hearing you spout such treason, now be off with ya before it gets dark.”
With a jacket on and the blade strapped to my back, I made my way to the Brinklesworth estate, just on the edge of town, in the golden quarter.
I had always enjoyed my trips to town, the solitary walks were a perfect time to be with my thoughts, grassy fields, birds chirping, and the soothing sound of the nearby stream usually accompanied me on my journey. Today however was different, there were no birds in sight, the cruel frozen air battered my exposed skin, and my thoughts were no friend to me on this occasion. All I could think about was how much I did not want to hand over my father’s masterpiece to those undeserving Brinklesworths. Especially not while knowing it was going to the newly knighted Harry Brinklesworth, I had never even seen him wield so much as a butter knife, let alone a sword of this caliber. He was knighted for exceptional service to the crown, though the nature of said services was a mystery to me and anyone else I asked who didn’t immediately end the conversation. It was plainly obvious to me that his knighthood had been more a product of his family’s insurmountable wealth than it was of any “noble deeds.” In any case, my father’s sword would be his and I would merely be its deliverer.
After a long and quiet walk, I could see the town square in the distance, all that was left was to cross the bridge and make my way to the golden quarter, perhaps I’d even stop by the town bakery and treat myself to a freshly baked sweet butter bun, just had to get this delivery over with. As I crossed the bridge I was struck by a strange realization, my thoughts were far too loud, they were in fact all I could hear. I looked up at the buildings ahead and noticed there was no smoke coming from the chimneys, no vendors on the streets, and no other soul in sight. I could feel my muscles tightening, the hairs on my neck came alive, and each breath rang louder than a church bell. I was frozen in place, midway across the bridge with an overwhelming feeling that I should turn back and run as fast as my tired legs would take me, but I couldn’t, my faculties had betrayed me. The sun was making a swift descent, I had to move quickly. I drew the Brinklesworth sword, wielding it firmly with both hands and slowly made my way across the bridge. With every step towards town, the looming sense of danger grew, I carefully investigated my surroundings, all the stalls were stocked, expensive wares left out in the open, and aside from a handful of things strewn across the floor, everything appeared to be untouched, almost as if everyone had simply vanished. My fear was quickly replaced by intrigue, my mind riddled with questions, I had to find out what happened here.
The further into town I ventured, the more sinister the atmosphere grew. There were fresh footprints all over the muddy ground, a sickening smell permeated the air, and darkness was quickly overtaking the cramped alleyways. As I made my way through the narrow and complex streets, I became increasingly aware that I had forgone any chance of a hasty escape. The once firm grip I had on my blade's hilt began to loosen as the weight of the steel wore down my strength and my weary legs buckled with each labored step; my focus now shifted to finding a secure spot to seek refuge for the night. After attempting to get into a few buildings unsuccessfully, I came across one with its door completely fallen off the hinges. Had I even an ounce of vigor left, I might have been more apprehensive of entering a tavern with its door decorating the floor, though, in my current state, I was no safer outside the tavern walls than within them. I had prepared myself to submit to the absolute darkness of the unlit tavern, but nothing could have prepared me for the smell that filled its halls, the scent I had suffered outside was nothing compared to what reeked within, the foul odor punished my nostrils with each strained breath. As my eyes adjusted to my surroundings, I noticed a slight flicker of light emanating from one of the rooms just ahead, it was faint, almost as if it was struggling to withstand the overpowering black that surrounded it. Like a moth to the flame, I was powerlessly drawn to the first warm glow I’d seen in what seemed like an eternity, with each step bringing me closer to what I’d hoped would be an answer to the riddle I’d stumbled into. As I stood at the foot of the cracked wooden door I could hear the soft sounds of breath on the other side, I was not alone. I raised one hand to the door, and gripped my sword tightly in the other, slowly pushing the door open as I prepared myself to face whatever it revealed. The room was decorated with the dark red glow of fresh blood, there were streaks of sickening green liquid sprayed across the walls, and a slim pale man sat on the soaked floor with his face pointed toward the corner of the room. His soft breaths changed to a raspy wheeze and his body seemed to start trembling, his head shot up from its slumped position, and the bones in his neck cracked like they had been frozen in place, he inhaled deeply through his nose, just as one does when they’ve caught the scent of their favorite meal, and a wave of dread washed over me. Without thinking I called out to him desperately, “Hello?!”
Just then his trembling turned into full body tremors, he twisted his neck around to face me, his bloodshot eyes were oozing bright yellow puss, the life had been washed from his hollow cheeks, his lips cracked by black lumps bubbling underneath, and his jagged teeth looked as though they could chew through stone. He let out a blood-curdling hellish scream and lunged towards me, I stumbled back using my sword to stop me from crashing to the ground, and before I could even comprehend what was after me, I was racing toward the tavern door. The once silent streets were now roaring with devilish shrieks and howls coming from all directions, I could hear a stampede of footsteps behind me, whatever it was I’d seen was no longer chasing me alone and I couldn’t outrun them for much longer. With no life left in my legs, the only thing driving me forward was primal fear but that couldn’t help me navigate the labyrinth of streets and before I knew it, I had reached a dead end. With nowhere left to run I turned my back to the wall and raised my sword, the guttural screams of my pursuers rang in my ears sending chills down my spine, within moments they surrounded me, climbing over each other and clamoring like rabid dogs as they closed in around me. Men, women, and even children, all of them pale and hollow bleeding out of every crack and crevice they bore. The people of this town, once lively and vibrant, were now riddled with decay and disease, the ungodly sight of their ravaged bodies and broken bones protruding out of their flesh, and the hopeless realization that I would soon be ravaged just the same. With no chance of escape, I closed my eyes, no longer able to bear the sight of the creatures before me, and as I uttered the final words of my last prayer, they were upon me.
Just then a voice called out from above,
“Hey, you, look up here! If you have any wish to see tomorrow, CLIMB!” My eyes sprang open, it wasn’t the mangled hands of the abominations that I felt, but instead a rope ladder that had been dropped upon me. I grabbed it with overdue haste and climbed with a fever only certain death could inspire. The horde of revolting ghouls grabbed at my dangling feet as I desperately flailed my legs around trying to kick them off, I could hear their starving growls growing louder, turning into frustrated snarls once I was safely out of their reach. Collapsing on the roof in exhaustion, I scrambled to catch my breath and greet my savior, as I looked up, I was met with a familiar face, it was Harry Brinklesworth.