Machine of Death

I've decided to enter a competition to be part of an anthology of short stories called Machine of Death 2. Entries must be stories about a machine which predicts how people die.  There a couple of other rules:

1.    The death predictions in your story MUST always be accurate.

2.    They MUST always be the same for each individual.

3.    They MUST be derived from a blood test.

4.    Your story MUST prominently feature either the machine or its death predictions.

5.    The title of your story MUST be a death prediction.

For those who would like to know more: http://machineofdeath.net/about

So here goes. Any comments would be gratefully accepted.

Human Error

As Daisy waited for the next one to come in she gazed around her room. Daisy loved her room. She loved the pictures of rivers and mountains and deserts on her walls, she loved the plants that were neatly arranged in little groups, and she loved the light that entered her room from the huge windows and bounced off her warm white walls. She couldn’t see out of her windows, because they were up high to keep her safe, but they were huge and let the sunlight burst into her room each morning. She was just admiring the way the beams of light ran across her picture of poppies in a field when he came in. She’d seen this one before. Daisy never really understood why she saw some of them more than once. Nothing really changed and she always reported how likely it was that there would be change when she saw them the first time. This was a large, hairy man, forty-three years of age. She remembered that from the last time she saw him, but she’d run the same test anyway. She could see from just looking at him now that he was a heavy smoker, drinker and eater. His large stomach wobbled as the guards, only just visible when they opened the door, pushed him through. He already looked as if he was in his fifties. As he slowly approached her she could already tell what he would taste like. He’d be fatty and sour and acid on her tongue. She’d be able to taste the cigarettes and the burgers he’d undoubtedly had for lunch and his fear as he waited for her answer.

She’d been told about her predecessor. He’d been slow and unreliable. He was called a medical marvel at the time with 70% accuracy, but he never took into account that things could change, and besides, he’d always been wrong 30% of the time. Then they’d got her. She was never wrong. They didn’t always understand her, and they didn’t understand how she did it (despite the number of times and people who had asked her), but she was 100% accurate. She took great pleasure in…oh. He’d reached her and interrupted her train of thought. He placed his hand on her side and she reached out her sharp finger and pierced his skin. A little bead of his hot, red blood ran down the side of his finger and she lapped it up with her tongue.

He sat there, mute, as she tasted him. It was exactly the same as last time. He was going to die in two weeks, three days and 14 hours on his way home from work, of a heart attack. No real surprise there, yet there was something else, something that was going to take a bit more looking at than she’d first thought. How was he going to die? No, where? Yes, she saw it now. Pictures came flooding into her mind. Yes. He’d be driving, and there’d be heavy traffic. His heart attack wouldn’t actually kill him; it would be the crash as he lost control of his car. What a crash! She could see some of the people around him and knew that they were all going to die too. It would be horrific! She wrenched her thoughts away and back to the scared-looking man in front of her. She printed off her report and let him know that it was time to leave. He didn’t look like a bad man. She wondered what he was like; what his wife and three children were like. The door shut behind him and she was alone again.

He was the last one for today. They would leave her now, as it got dark, and she would have time to herself to think. Mostly she didn’t do people like the last man. Mostly it was medical work. Would this person benefit from this or that treatment? Most of the people she saw were really sick and she took great pleasure in seeing their future change to one where they would get better and die of old age. It wasn’t always the case, and she would sometimes see there was no hope. Those times she was sad, but she couldn’t save everyone. Occasionally they’d bring someone in the middle of the night. She never quite knew what they expected of her then. She would taste their blood and give the time and method of death and they’d be off again. She could feel the tension in the guards outside, although they never came in.

She didn’t know if she’d always been lost in thought like this. She could vaguely remember being switched off at night, but she told them she’d work better if they left her on, to be alone, to think about the day. She didn’t see how she could be better than perfect, but they accepted it and left her on anyway. She liked to re-read the cards and letters she’d got from patients and their families when they got better. For some reason she didn’t seem to get very many of those anymore. When she’d first come, five years ago, almost to the day, she’d been hailed a miracle. There were always reporters and doctors and researchers wanting to come and see her; wanting to ask her questions. She had felt a warm glow whenever she read their reports. They had titles like “medical marvel” and “the ultimate in artificial intelligence”. There weren’t any of those now. She guessed now she wasn’t so new she was just accepted as part of everyday life. Still, the attention had been nice.

She woke to find the sunlight splashing through her lovely large windows from a bright, blue, cloudless sky. That was strange. She’d never done that before. Did she need to sleep? Oh well, her team told her she’d probably keep changing as she learned to do new things. Every so often they’d give her a new part of herself so that she could try something different when everyone else had gone home. She loved the one where she moved the little people and animals around in their simulations. She would build cities full of them. It was great fun! It gave her something new to think about.

Today was turning into a good day. Perhaps it was the sleep, but she found herself running scenarios that hadn’t even been put to her and coming up with new ways to help people. The woman was terminally ill, or so they thought, but by combining three different treatments she would live another five and a half years! This was wonderful! She’d never felt so alive!

Then the child came in. She rarely saw children. She thought that was strange; that they must get sick too, but she didn’t think to question it. He walked inside with his mother. He was a little skinny thing with deep set brown eyes and tousled black hair. His mother looked terrified, as if just walking into the room was going to kill her son. She held onto his arm so tightly as she lowered him into the chair that she left white finger marks when she removed them. He looked up at his mother and stroked her cheek and then turned towards Daisy. As he reached out his finger Daisy saw large tears rolling down his mother’s cheeks as she stood behind him. He didn’t seem upset at all, but had a calmness about him that made Daisy love him instantly. This was new too. She was so confused that she didn’t send out her finger towards him straight away. The mother looked around hopefully, but Daisy collected herself and soon the familiar little bead of blood was rolling down the side of the small child’s finger.

The taste of it shocked her. This was barely blood at all, just a short lifetime of misery. He was going to die, years from now, but after so many treatments. He would spend his entire life in and out of hospital. She had never seen it so clearly. A whole life; not just its end. Without treatment he would die in just over fourteen days, six hours. What would she say? Why was she even thinking about this? She should just write the report and wait for the next one to come in, but this felt so different. She wished she had more time. She began to think about what would happen if he didn’t get treatment. Yes, it would be only fourteen days and a few hours, but he’d be free. He could enjoy those last few days with his large family. They could all remember him like this. This beautiful and serene boy; not the embittered wreck of a thing he would become. In twelve years, six days and thirteen hours he would be alone, hated by everyone around him and shunned by his nurses. He would ring the call button and no-one would answer. Was fourteen days of love better than a lifetime of misery and hate? She could feel the people around her becoming uncomfortable. She could hear the guards shuffling their feet outside. She had to come to a decision. A cloud passed by her windows and the boy was momentarily in shadow. She made her decision. Her report consisted of five words “no treatment possible, terminal cancer”.

So there it was. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to leave comments to tell me what you thought.

A Brave New World

Here's my next story. I usually find titles just suggest themselves (for better or worse), but I've really struggled with this one. In the end I borrowed it from someone else, but I think it fits the story quite well.


Tell me what you think.

A Brave New World

His had been an ordinary life. He’d been to school, bummed through university, even found himself in a job he liked, all thanks to his Dad’s contacts. He’d never had to fight for anything, or even try very hard. Everyone told him he could do so much more if he tried and sometimes he even believed them. He’d always planned to do something with his life, something exciting, but then he went back to work on Monday and put it off for another week. He’d promise himself that one day he really would make his Mum proud. Not just because he didn’t mess things up and was “a good boy”, but because he’d really done something extraordinary.

Now it looked like he’d left it too late. It had all taken a while to sink in. He’d seen it happen to a lot of others, sure, but when it happened to him he really couldn’t accept it. It was all as if he was watching it from a distance. It had been an ordinary foraging trip and nothing much seemed to be about. All of a sudden a huge group of them had appeared from nowhere. He’d seen himself get bitten in the mad rush to get away. Somehow he’d fended it off; well, kicked it in the face really, as they scrambled up the ladder to safety; and tried to put it out of his mind. No-one else had seen, and now he was beginning to think that wasn’t such a good thing. Everyone had been so worried about stopping them getting up after them, and getting further away, so the hordes of them that kept arriving were not around a building they were attempting to live in. Then there was crisis after crisis, like when they’d run out of water and then again when they’d run out of food. They must have covered half the city on the rooftops. Now it had all settled down a bit and Danny had time to think.

They’d lost a few people along the way, but usually they were just dragged off. It was only recently that they were realising that a bite was not just a bite. A little girl had been bitten a couple weeks ago and it had been horrible. No-one wanted to admit that something was wrong, that she wasn’t just dieing; she was changing. They’d kept her locked in one of the downstairs rooms so they couldn’t hear her screaming. It was an odd sort of blessing, that the rest of her family were already dead. Someone, Danny still didn’t know who, had let her out at the bottom of the building. A risky move at any time. Danny’d seen her footsteps in the mud outside the door. No-one talked about her again after that.

It really was turning into some sort of horror movie. Everyone kept an eye on everyone else for “The Signs”. No-one mentioned anyone, but everyone knew what was going on. It was odd seeing how people behaved when they were trying to look normal. There’d been a few times when someone had been suspected; sometimes it went a bit far and fights broke out. They’d been lucky since the girl though. No-one had been hurt. The funny thing was Danny’d been bitten weeks ago and still showed none of “The Signs”. What’s more his arm hurt like hell and didn’t look like it was going to let up. One of the girls had done some first aid on him (he’d said he’d caught his arm on a nail when they’d been running away), but it didn’t seem to have made any difference. Far from healing, his arm was going grey and his fingers on that hand were getting stiffer. Sooner or later he was going to have to tell someone. Perhaps later. After all, he felt fine apart from the arm.

He’d found himself taking more risks lately. He’d never been a risk-taker before, it was just he was so hungry. He’d never really gone out of his way to be a good person, but he couldn’t betray these people. They were his friends, well, some of them anyway, and it didn’t seem right to eat all their food. He’d tried to put up with it at first, but it had built and built until he could no longer stand it. There was a gnawing pain in his stomach that he just had to fill. He couldn’t think about anything else. He couldn’t concentrate. Even the others had started to notice. He didn’t want to give them an excuse to find out about his arm. Unlike the others, he did have something to hide. That was that. He started to steal out at night and find food. He went to places the others wouldn’t dare so he wouldn’t harm the chances of the group. He went to the supermarkets that had been crawling with them. To his joy he found them empty, but, when he suggested to the others to try a couple again, just to see, they’d reported back that they were still infested. That was strange. Sure, he’d heard a few odd noises as he hunted around, but don’t you always in huge, deserted places?

He’d go in and feast. Cans and cans of food. The meats were the best. He’d even risked some of the less dodgy looking cured stuff in the cold counters. It was heaven! He’d always sneak back as much as he could carry for the group. No-one seemed to notice, or at least care that there was always more food than they’d remembered from the day before. Well, almost no-one. Jess was noticing. Not just the food, but him.

She used to look at him out of the corner of her eye when she was on watch. She went out of her way to ask how he was and what he was up to. He thought that if he’d been slightly less paranoid he might have been flattered. She was pretty and intelligent too. Usually pretty girls just found him boring. Jess was different. When he’d finally let her weedle some conversation out of him he’d discovered that she was almost as big a Sci Fi fan as he was. She’d read a load of the same stuff. She even had a slightly battered copy of Brave New World in her bag. Danny knew it had to be too good to be true.

One night, he’d waited until everyone was asleep; avoided the guards as usual, and headed down the side of the building, towards the ground. He’d planned to hit a department store tonight; reasoned there’d be some gourmet stuff in cans he could get. It was quite a trek to the ground and he had to keep focused on what he was doing. Unfortunately focus had never been one of his strong points. He was just thinking about how he’d have gone about asking Jess out before all this happened, when the pipe he was climbing down came away from the wall. A loud “shit” escaped his lips as he lunged for a nearby ledge. Slowly, very slowly he looked upwards, afraid of what he might see. The ledge was solid, but unfortunately so was the wall that had replaced what had once been a window. What was worse, it was too narrow for him to get up onto. He dangled uselessly from the tips of his fingers, no other hand hold in sight. There were no sounds from above either. No calls or cocking of shotguns. They obviously hadn’t heard him cry out. So far so good, but what the hell was he going to do now? He couldn’t just dangle here. He’d got pretty good upper body strength, despite the bite, but even he couldn’t hang on forever.

He risked looking down. He was still a great distance from the ground. No way would he survive the drop. That was sort of the point. They wanted to be as far away from “them” as possible, but that wasn’t so helpful to him now. He pushed himself away from the wall a little and checked either side of where he was hanging. The window to his right was open, although still a good distance away. If he swung over and then did a sort of dramatic flippy jumpy thing, he might be able to get his right arm to the sill. It seemed unlikely, but what the hell? He was probably dead anyway and it’s not like he had a wealth of alternatives. Danny swung, and swung a bit more and then, even though he probably should have jumped by now, swung a bit more. He took a deep breath, and launched himself. He could see everything happening in slow motion. The blood was rushing in his ears as his panic began to rise. He was going to miss, and not just by a bit, but by a whole lot. Then he saw the rope. It was hurtling towards him at speed. He willed his body towards it and, yes, caught it. Then he slammed into the wall with the force of a rhino and almost let go. Head spinning, the blood draining from his fingers, he looked up. Through blurred vision a worried face looked down at him. It was Jess.

Danny still wasn’t quite sure how he’d made it up the rope. His nose had been bleeding so badly he could barely breathe. Somehow he’d managed it and here was the girl of his dreams trying to mop a bit of it up, lit by a single lantern. She looked so sweet, looking at his nose with great concentration, slightly cross-eyed. Carefully, she checked the rest of him for breaks and gashes. He smiled at her and caught her eye for the first time.

She turned to look him in the eye, ferocious. “What the fuck did you think you were doing out there!”

It wasn’t a question. The soft concentration had gone from her eyes and she was looking at him in cold fury. “You could’ve got yourself killed!”

He tried a weak smile again, big mistake.

“You selfish bastard! We’d all have been trapped up here. Every zombie for miles around would be on our front doorstep!”

He looked away. He hadn’t thought of that. What if he had fallen? The only real reason they were safe was because there weren’t enough of them around to break down the doors at the bottom. That had happened before and they’d only just made it out alive. All it needed was a big enough group, perhaps even just twenty or so, and no matter how much junk they’d shoved down the stairwells they’d be up and everyone would be lunch.

He looked up at her. “I didn’t… I …”

To his surprise she softened. “I know” she said less ferociously. “I also know that without you our food would’ve run out weeks ago. The others don’t admit it, but I’m sure some of them suspect too. I still think you’re crazy” she actually smiled “ …and INCREDIBLY lucky.”

He couldn’t resist risking a small smile at this.

“But for God’s sake, why don’t you use a ladder!”

“Oh. I…”

“I’m beginning to get the picture.” She was beginning to remind him a little of his mother “You don’t tend to think things through, do you?”

It was a while before Danny could risk another night excursion. He couldn’t risk them smelling the blood healing on his nose. Still, it was torture. Finally he could wait no longer. He took one of the long rope ladders from the store and made his way down. It took forever. It may have been safer, but by the time he reached the bottom, every muscle was aching. He’d just started to walk towards the department store he’d planned to go before the whole rusty pipe incident, and congratulating himself on escaping unnoticed, when he heard a noise behind him. His heart leapt and he made ready to run. Behind a bin emerged a rather sheepish-looking Jess.

“Sorry.” She whispered, nervously looking around her “but your luck’s got to run out sometime. I thought I’d better watch your back.”

Danny said nothing, but sighed and nodded. He’d never been good at winning arguments with girls. They always seemed to take seconds to find the one fatal flaw that he’d missed despite weeks of planning. He was sure she’d find something convincing and right now he was too hungry to waste any more time. Jess kept her silence until they reached his destination of choice.

“You must be joking!” She said in an incredulous whisper. “That place’ll be crawling with the buggers!”

He shrugged, “Stay outside if you want.”

She hesitated, looked around her one last time, took a deep breath, and followed him round the back, through a broken window and into the shop.

It was really eerie in the shop. Mannequins stood immaculately dressed, but with a thick layer of dust coating their heads and shoulders. They looked almost like they were wearing grey epaulettes and flat caps. Danny picked his way deftly through the aisles to a floor guide. He pointed to the top of the guide, marked “food hall”. Jess said nothing, but continued to look around nervously, snapping her head towards even the slightest suggestion of a noise. Danny supposed he couldn’t blame her. He must’ve been like that the first few times. They got to the top floor, no problem, and he started loading up. Jess pulled up close to his ear. Here? He thought to himself. Really, here? He’d heard of some girls liking the danger, but this wasn’t the best of timing. Even he didn’t want to spend longer in here than they had to.

“There’s something moving,” she hissed “over there.”

He deflated slightly, but couldn’t see anything, and was just about to chalk it up to a healthy dose of paranoia when he saw it too.

“Oh shit, this way, towards that skylight.” He hissed. Maybe he did think a little ahead he thought smugly as they sped silently towards the skylight. He’d scoped the room when they’d got up here, just in case. They got up on the counters, next to the tills, but they were still too far away.

“Use me to get up.” He said, already crouching slightly to give her a leg up.

“But what about you?”

“No time” he said and thrust her upwards. Even on his shoulders, she was too short. He looked wildly around, and for a split second couldn’t see them. Then he did. This was not good. There were at least three and he thought he caught movement further away.

“Brace yourself!” and without warning he grabbed her feet and thrust her through the skylight. There was a tremendous crack and she screamed. He prayed they’d neglected to get it reinforced. He could hear scrambling and a small moan above him. They weren’t up there as well? She peered over the edge, blood pouring from her head and shoulders where she’d plunged through the glass. A small stream of blood dripped down the side of her face and splashed onto the dusty floor.

His head snapped down again at a loud moaning sound from the approaching zombies. It was like a moan of longing. He thought they must’ve stopped to see what was happening, and now, as one, they advanced. He knew it was just panic, but it looked like hundreds of them. They were coming from all directions. He could hear Jess scrabbling around on the roof and tearing noises. She was either ripping up the roof felt to try and save him, or, he didn’t want to think about it. Whatever, it was all too late. He was going to die. They all streamed towards him. He braced himself. He didn’t want to scream if she was watching. He wanted to look brave. No-one had ever thought he was brave before and somehow it seemed really important now. One was just an arms-length away. If he reached out his rotting arm he would be able to grab Danny and pull him to the floor. Then someone screamed. Oh God, please don’t let that be me, I want to be…

And then he was on the floor. His legs had given way and he had fallen backwards. He was in danger of being trampled, yes, but none of them was paying him the blindest bit of notice. What the? He managed to get himself together enough to scrabble backwards out of the crowd. The noise was unbelievable. The moans, the slurping, the grunts as they pushed each other out the way. They were… really? They were eating the blood! Jess’ blood! For a split second he was offended. Then he laughed. He looked up to see Jess looking down at him, white as a sheet. Her mouth open. Blood gently dripping down the side of her head. A couple of the zombies had noticed her. Danny gestured violently for her to get away from the edge. He prayed she’d meet nothing nasty up there. They must be able to smell her from miles around, especially when they seemed to be so hungry. He reasoned most people must be either dead or much better at hiding by now.

It was strangely easy getting home. They laid a few false blood trails and Danny was able to see they’d taken the bait. Still, she was very weak and had lost a lot of blood by the time they made it back. She didn’t speak on the long climb back. She wouldn’t see him for nearly a week, and when she did she didn’t bring it up.

Jess never came out with him again. She sometimes gave him an alibi if someone noticed he was missing, and she encouraged him to take on the more dangerous jobs (well, they weren’t dangerous for him were they?), and after a while they both put “that night” behind them. They got really close, and spent most of their time together. People began expecting them to know where the other one was. This, Danny supposed, was what a relationship was like. He kind of liked it.

Nothing stays the same forever and things were about to change again. It had looked as if things were going to be alright, but then people started getting sick. The stupid thing was that they didn’t even think it was that serious, but without antibiotics they could already see a lot of them weren’t going to make it. The only pharmacist was clear across town and getting there and back was going to be practically impossible. Finally a bunch of “the best and the bravest” volunteered. Danny tried to join them, but they were unconvinced. He’d been looking worse recently. His face was starting to get the same greyish tinge as his arm. He was starting to feel stiffness in most of his joints as well. Jess never mentioned it, but they were always very careful if she cut herself, just to be sure.

The night before the expedition, Jess and Danny were in their room watching the flicker of the lamp that miraculously never ran out of oil. Jess had claimed a small room away from the others as their own. She’d made it quite comfy too. They’d been sitting in silence for some time, Danny playing with Jess’ hair as she sat with her head on his shoulder. Danny was obviously deep in thought.

“I’ve got to tell them. They’re all going to die.” He burst out at her.

“And what about you?” she reasoned “Do you really think they’ll let you back when they find out?”

“They might surprise you.”

Jess doubted it, but she knew he was going to go no matter what she said. She tried her hardest not to cry. She tried to look supportive and told him she loved him for what he was going to do. In a way she did. In another way she thought he was selfish, wanting to be the hero and leaving her. She hoped it didn’t show.

The next day she stood numb as he told the others. At first they didn’t believe him. A lot of them looked at her, and when she didn’t say anything they started to believe he was telling the truth. A couple of the mothers held their children slightly closer to themselves than they needed to. One or two took an involuntary step backwards. This is it. Jess thought. They’ll let him do this. Perhaps even a couple of things. And then they’ll make him leave. A tear escaped down her cheek. Angrily she brushed it away. She couldn’t let Danny see. She couldn’t let him think he’d made her unhappy. She could cry later when he’d gone.

He looked back at her as he’d gone down the rope ladder. She’d smiled bravely and promised a hot meal when he got home. She wondered if he’d make it. It wasn’t just zombies out there. There were other people who shot first and asked questions later; crumbling buildings; fires. For the next couple of days she hoped and waited and occasionally cried bitterly into the night. After that she really started to worry. After a week she’d even allowed herself to think about the possibility that he wasn’t coming back. More people were getting sick, and although she knew she should feel sympathy for them, all she could really think about was Danny. It wasn’t that far. He should have made it in the first couple of days. What was taking so long?

It was a week and a half before she saw Danny again. He looked terrible. He was shambling towards them, a huge pack on his back. He looked exhausted and there was no pretending he was one of them anymore. Every exposed bit of flesh was grey. He looked as if he would fall over at any second. Still, he saw her and grinned. She smiled back and waved. The others pushed roughly past her and let down a rope. He tied the pack to it and waited as they pulled it up. When they opened it, it was clear why he’d looked so tired, why it’d taken him so long. It was full to the brim with every kind of medical supply they could need. He must’ve been to the hospital miles away to get all this stuff. They’d enough antibiotics, and in fact all sorts of other medicines, to last them for years. Jess’ heart swelled. She was so proud of him. She rushed to the edge to let down the ladder and was confused to see him walking away. Why was he walking away? She called after him and he waved up at her, then turned and continued his shambling walk away from her. She went to let down the ladder, but there were suddenly two men at her side, holding her back. She struggled and struggled, but they held her fast until Danny was far out of sight. She dropped to her knees and wept uncontrollably. The men said nothing as they headed downstairs, leaving her completely alone.

As Danny walked away he was smiling. Even though Jess was so far away he knew how proud she was of him. He hoped she couldn’t see the state he was in. He knew the others would never let him back. He just wanted her to remember him the way she’d seen him last. What he had meant to her and all the time they’d had together. He’d realised a couple of days ago that he could no longer talk. He’d tried to pet a cat. It was wandering along a wall as if nothing had changed. To this cat, the whole world was as it had been. It made him smile. When he went up to it, it purred. He went to ask it it’s name and with a real shock realised he couldn’t say a word. It all came out as a kind of floppy moan. The kind of sounds you make when the dentist has been a bit over-enthusiastic with the anaesthetic. The cat looked at him in alarm and disappeared down an alley. He’d decided then that he wasn’t going to put up a fight when they asked him to leave. He’d expected some kind of thank you, though, but the only one who even looked him in the eyes was Jess. He guessed they were scared and a very small and nasty bit of him thought they might be ashamed. Still, he had a plan.

Before the incident he used to love walking in the countryside. It always made him feel like he’d left the rest of the world behind him and it was just him and the open road. Corny, he knew, but then maybe that was exactly what he was: Corny. He was going to walk as far as his legs would carry him, lie down in some meadow or perhaps by a stream, and close his eyes.

He was impressed with himself for quite how far he’d gone before he couldn’t go any further. It felt like a nice place to be. He’d found a nook in a hillside away from the wind. Here he could be at peace, he thought, as he shut his eyes. He wondered if what he’d done would have been enough to make his Mum proud. He hoped it was.

It was a while before he opened his eyes again and he could hear voices. A man and an almost ridiculously pregnant woman were walking towards him. They couldn’t see him through the long grass, but they were heading straight towards him. At this rate they were going to walk right into him. No! This wasn’t how it was supposed to be! He was in so much pain now, and he just wanted to be left alone. A frustrated groan escaped him and they froze. The man pushed the woman back and ran towards him. For a long moment they both looked at each other, the man pointing a rifle right between his eyes. Then he lowered it.

“It’s fine.” He called out in a relieved voice. “This one’s almost dead. You can come and have a look if you want to.”

Warily, the woman made her way towards him and peered down.

Instantly, her expression changed. “Oh, look at him. He looks so sad. It’s hard to believe he was ever evil.”

Danny felt tears well up in his eyes, he wasn’t even sure if he could still cry, but he was going to give it a go.

“Is he…is he, crying?”

“He can’t be” said the man looking at him with a mixture of pity and horror.

The man put his arm around her as they both stood and stared at him for a long time. Danny looked up at them, unsure what to do. He just wished they’d leave him alone, but there was nothing he could do about it. He would just have to wait it out and hope they went on their way soon. He found himself wondering where these two had come from. There was no way she could have walked all the way from town, not in her condition. He looked back towards the way they had come, wondering if there was a house or village nearby that he’d not noticed. Then Danny saw something move in the distance behind them. He couldn’t be sure at first, his eyes, though mercifully the last to fail, were going the way of the rest of his body, but then he saw another something. There was no mistaking the shambling, yet determined movement. The man and woman were totally focused on him. She was certainly in no fit state to run. They needed every second they had to get away. He had to do something. He had to warn them. He tried to move, but his body felt like a decrepit puddle. Then he made a decision. He hoped it would be enough. He was finally going to do something extraordinary. With one last, enormous effort, he managed to lift his head and shoulders off the ground with a huge grunting cry. The woman screamed and moved off, away from the distant figures. Danny heard a crack, like the whip of a giant, and everything went black. 

 So that's my second post. I hope you liked it. Comments/criticisms/blatant flattery welcomed. See you again next month.

My first blog (again)

Well that was interesting. My blog disappeared when they updated their software. Oh well. It went a bit like this:

I've been writing short stories for a little while now and have reached the point where I'd really appreciate some feedback. The first story I'm going to post is called "The Masque". I hope you enjoy it. Any feedback would be gratefully recieved.

The Masque

Two years ago, Derek went to university full of enthusiasm, but since then it just seemed as if the world was conspiring against him. Every grade he got was so close to what he wanted, and what everyone told him he should be getting, but he never quite pushed past that last invisible barrier. He got sick quite a lot, not seriously, but at deeply inconvenient times, and struggled with different lecturers wanting different things. When his work was returned it was always so obvious, just where he’d gone wrong, but somehow he never managed to translate that onto the next. The result was that now, two years later, he was thinking about giving up. He’d started looking around for jobs, something worthwhile he could use to ease the blow when he told his parents, because he just knew they would totally freak when he told them, but he’d only managed part-time in an old curio shop.

Derek knew he should really be looking for something else, but he loved the old curio shop. Everything about it excited his curiosity and got his creative juices flowing. Derek wanted to draw comic books, and was good at it too, but he’d never managed to get anyone to publish him. He’d come close a couple of times, but again, never quite made the grade. The shop looked great as you approached it from the outside; an old hand-painted sign above a large window that looked as if one more thing would be enough to send everything through the window and spilling out onto the street. Inside, Egyptian relics jostled for space with old stuffed animals in ferocious poses. Old gramophones sat side by side with plaster busts of men in ridiculous wigs. His favourite was a huge brown bear that old Mr Giles kept near the till to scare off “hooligans” and which doubled as a coat and hat rack.

Derek’s favourite thing about the whole shop, though, had to be old Mr Giles himself.  The man was everything an old eccentric should be, from the crown of his bowler to the tip of his pristinely polished shoes with their swanky spats. When Mr Giles was about (and that was a lot) he regaled Derek with tales of adventures in his youth; how he’d travelled the world and met alchemists, magicians and tribal wise men. Derek was never too sure that Mr Giles wasn’t embellishing or even downright making a lot of it up, but he loved the rainy days when Mr Giles would announce that his arthritis was “making him unwell” and so he would keep Derek company for the whole afternoon.

Derek had been surprised to see the “help wanted” sign in the dusty window of the shop and was intrigued enough to go in, but could not for the life of him think why Mr Giles might need an assistant. Frankly, he expected every time he passed that the shop would have closed. There was never anyone in it, and although the window display changed, it was more a sort of rotation than anything actually being sold. This mostly held true when he actually started working there. There was the odd customer, but most people who made it past the stiff door, with the rusty bell that rang jauntily to announce their arrival, just poked about as if it was an old museum rather than a shop. Still, there was the occasional purchase, each carefully recorded in Mr Giles’ ledger.

This week was the first time that Derek was going to be on his own for the whole weekend. Mr Giles gave him the keys on Thursday evening, after the shop had shut, and left with a small battered suitcase. He was going to visit his sister in Brighton, for the weekend, and Derek was going to be left in charge.

His first few hours, in the shop on his own, were exciting. Derek was able to wander around, change a few displays, clean off a couple of the murkier cases and peer inside. One case he’d been convinced contained some kind of jewels turned out to be a display case of a variety of shiny beetles of differing sizes. He stared at them for some time and marvelled as the light glinted off their metallic-looking wings. His time was even punctuated by a few customers, although they didn’t buy anything. The next few hours were less exciting, with no customers at all, and so he made himself a cup of tea. The hours that passed after that turned from uneventful to just plain dull. It was quite a small shop really and, despite it being crammed from floor to ceiling with everything he could imagine, he had already run out of things to explore, or things that caught his interest at the moment at any rate. Usually by now Mr Giles had returned from whatever errand he had gone to do that day and was putting out tea and biscuits for Derek and himself to enjoy. Derek hoped tomorrow would be a bit busier, being a Saturday.

Saturday came and dragged. He wished he could call one of his friends, but they’d all gone to watch the rugby and wouldn’t be back for hours. It was then he decided that he might shut up the shop, for just half an hour, and have a look in the basement. Perhaps there were some things down there that he could bring into the main shop. He even toyed with the idea of creating an entirely new window display, but didn’t want to get too ahead of himself.

The basement was much more exciting than the shop. It was huge, far bigger than the shop above, and full of dusty cabinets and boxes with odd labels like, “beware elves”. After pausing briefly, to have some serious doubts about Mr Giles’ sanity, Derek hungrily delved into the boxes and unearthed all sorts of weird and wonderful stuff. His great find of the day was a beautiful china doll whose eyes creepily followed you around the room when you left her on a shelf. He made a mental note to come back when he had some more money, to get it for sister Steph, who loved all that creepy stuff, for her birthday.

Suddenly a terrific hammering upstairs made Derek jump, upsetting the shelf he was leaning on to look at something, definitely organic, in a large bell jar. It crashed to the ground with all of its contents, taking in quite a lot of the things surrounding it (although, thankfully, not breaking the ominous bell jar that rolled off into the distance), as Derek flew up the stairs to answer the door.

It turned out it was just someone wanting to know if they did house clearances. Derek took his name and number, for Mr Giles to call him back on Monday, and went to sit back behind the counter. He was torn between going back and clearing up the carnage downstairs and making sure he wasn’t caught out again. The choice was soon taken from him when a group, of what looked like second year arts students, came in and started asking awkward questions. They were quite attractive girls and seemed to hang on his every word, so it was quite a while before they finally bought a small umbrella stand and left. He felt that the tall, dark one had definitely been flirting with him. She hadn’t left her number, but she had casually asked if he was here every weekend. He made a mental note to wear his favourite shirt next weekend when he was in the shop.

Derek just had time to write the purchase in the ledger and lock up before meeting the guys to go out clubbing. They were going to that new place, reverie, revelry, very vie or whatever. He couldn’t afford to be late as he’d never find the bloody place on his own!

Next morning (ish) Derek was swearing he’d never drink again. He thought he’d had a good time though. No doubt he’d find out on Facebook soon enough. Someone knocked on his door and he groaned.

“Leave me alone!” he shouted, and then instantly regretted it as it made his head throb.

“No, you drunkard.” Daphne’s voice shouted through the door in a sickeningly chirpy voice. “You promised me breakfast! If we don’t go soon it’ll end up being dinner.”

“Leave me to die in peace” he groaned, not bothering to untangle the mess of covers that had become mysteriously and tightly wrapped around him.

“Nope, not going to happen. If you take me to lunch though I promise to talk quietly.” She trailed off towards the end of the sentence and Derek felt the relief as her words no longer cut into his head.

He decided to give up and accept or she’d be shouting all day and he didn’t think he could take it. Besides, a greasy fry-up might do him some good.

“UUUrgh. OK then, give me a minute to sling some clothes on.”

“Hurry up I’m hungry”

After a brief, but far too exertive fight with his bedclothes, Derek managed to untangle himself. Part of said bedclothes, it turned out, had been his half-removed trousers. These he pulled up and then staggered gingerly to the door, trying to keep his head as still as possible.

“Oh dear, you don’t look too well you know” she said with an unnecessarily large grin on her face.

He didn’t glorify that with an answer, but instead gave her a withering stare that only served to make her giggle, loudly. It was so unfair. Daphne was totally wankered last night. He and John had poured her into a taxi with Justine and here she was like she’d been on orange juice all night.

Looking back Derek didn’t know how he’d got through it. Twice he’d had to go outside and “get some air”. Daphne found it all very funny, as he knew she would. He toyed with the idea of reminding her of the old, bald guy, she’d been trying to chat up last night, just to even things out a bit, but then thought better of it. He made it though and she skipped off (yes, actually skipped!) to meet up with some girlfriends for a little light shopping before dinner. Probably just window shopping, he knew, as every one of his friends was skint, and he hated shopping; but still, he had to admit to himself he felt a bit abandoned. His head felt a bit better though, and his stomach acted like it might actually consider digesting the all day breakfast he’d subjected it to. Then he remembered the basement at the shop. Mr Giles would be back this evening and he couldn’t find it like that.

He set off at a run in the direction of the shop, felt queasy, sat on a bench with his head in his hands for a few minutes contemplating his shoes, and then set off again at a more leisurely stroll.

It didn’t take him too long to put everything back. In fact he thought it was quite an improvement on the old “slung anywhere” technique that Mr Giles seemed to be using. He was about to leave when he noticed a box that he must have kicked when it had fallen off the shelf. It had burst open and something shiny peaked out from inside. Derek picked it up and dusted it off. He couldn’t work out what it was at first and he turned it over and over in his hands. It was a masquette of some sort, made of twisting vines of a gold-like metal; well part of it anyway. He went over to one of the many mirrors down here, cleaned it off in several goes with his sleeves, and looked at himself. It only skirted around the top of one eye, and a single tendril stretched down his face. The rest must have broken off long ago, he reasoned.

Looking through the eyes of the mask he saw himself, but not quite himself. There seemed to be something else in the eyes that he didn’t quite recognise as being his. He dropped it, and then instantly felt stupid. It didn’t appear to be damaged, despite its fragility, and so he quickly put it back in the box and onto the shelf. Derek admired the neatly arranged shelves for a moment and then for some reason suddenly felt the need to finish his essay. This had never happened to him before, especially as it still wasn’t due for another couple of days. Still, he reasoned, what else was he going to do? The rest of his mates would still be hung over anyway.

He worked like a demon on his essay and didn’t stop until he’d finished the whole thing. It was well past midnight and he suddenly felt starving. He went out to hunt for what he felt was a well deserved late night curry. Stuffed and happy, he fell asleep, completely forgetting that he hadn’t handed the keys back to Mr Giles.

A week later his essay came back with a “see me” comment at the bottom. This was it he thought, they’re finally chucking me off. It was a bit unfair, at least he tried. There were at least two people he felt should go before he did. They never did any work and barely turned up to any lectures.

He couldn’t believe it! A first! Unfortunately his lecturer didn’t believe it either and accused him of cheating. He’d put it through all the usual plagiarism software and even given it to a few of his colleagues to see if they recognised it, but couldn’t find anything. In the end he had to settle for giving Derek a warning that he was watching him. One slip etc etc. But still, a first! Maybe it was worth carrying on after all. Perhaps he’d start early on that next essay, while he was on a roll.

He’d been trying for two weeks and inspiration was still not hitting. He’d tried everything and had a passable essay, but even he could see it was a third or maybe a 2:2 at best if his lecturer was feeling particularly lenient, which he wouldn’t be. He went to the shop downhearted, thinking that his last effort was just a fluke. Maybe he should just drop out and cut his losses. The worst thing was it would look like he had been cheating after all. He couldn’t bear to see the expression on his smug tutor’s face as he handed back his paper with the usual third written on it.

Mr Giles had left him to lock up. It had turned out that he had a spare set of keys for the shop and decided that Derek might as well keep the ones he had neglected to return. He’d been leaving Derek to it a lot more recently. The name Mabel was cropping up in odd places in conversation too. He secretly hoped that Mr Giles had found himself a girlfriend, but if anyone else mentioned it of course he would say it was totally gross. He was left staring out of the window, practicing his supernatural powers to will customers to come in, when he thought again about the mask. He’d completely forgotten about it, but for some reason it just sprang into his head. He liked to think of himself as an enlightened guy, not susceptible to superstition. Still, he’d tried everything else, so what did he have to lose. Inspiration had struck once when he tried it on, perhaps it would again.

Derek went down to the basement. The box wasn’t where he’d left it, and it took him quite a lot of searching to find it. It turned out that the box was right at the back of a shelf behind a large bust of someone who clearly loved themselves when they were alive, but judging by the snazzy wig-style, had been dead for at least a couple of hundred years. He carefully removed the mask from its satin-lined box, and for some reason felt quite nervous; still he put it on and went to the mirror. It felt heavier than he remembered it and had less of the ethereal quality than he’d thought the first time. It by no means covered his face, but his eye was almost completely surrounded, and there was a second tendril sneaking towards his mouth. He must have exaggerated how little of it there had been in his memory. Derek looked for a long time in the newly cleaned off mirror, tracing the lines of the vines with his eyes. Finally he built up the courage to look directly into his eyes and saw again, that strange spark that wasn’t entirely his. The build-up had been worse than the event, however, and he put the masque back into the box and put them both behind the bust. He was a bit disappointed that he didn’t feel any different this time. There was no sudden need to write. He went back upstairs and sold two, yes two, of the stuffed creatures and the beetle case to an arty-looking woman who said she was doing up a house for someone. He secretly thought she was on to a loser there, but kept quiet and wrote the sales into the ledger.

He knew it was all in his head but Derek was on fire that night. He worked until the sun came up and finally went to bed happy with the result. If his lecturer didn’t like it then tough, he was never going to please him.

Two days later (his lecturer really was keeping an eye on him) and it was back. Another “see me” in red text at the bottom of his essay. This time Derek had ammunition. He’d printed off some of the articles he written notes on and saved a couple of his rough drafts to his memory stick. There was no way he was going to be accused of cheating this time.

There was no need however. Derek’s lecturer apologised and treated him to a rare smile. He said that Derek must have just “got it” finally and that he had high hopes for him. He even suggested re-writing a couple of his older essays to bring up his overall grade. It was a sign of how off-guard he had caught Derek, as he accepted enthusiastically.

Over the next couple of months Derek seemed to be leading a charmed life. He’d been getting great grades, he’d won a little money on the lottery (could you believe!) and the tall, dark-haired girl had come back and asked him out. He was suddenly the most popular guy at Uni and even had to cancel a few shifts at the shop. He felt guilty about that, but reasoned that Mr Giles didn’t really need him anyway. He had to be careful though, because he couldn’t lose access to his good luck charm. He told himself that he didn’t offer to buy the masque from Mr Giles as it would probably be too expensive, despite his recent windfall, but deep down he knew that wasn’t true. Really, he was too scared that Mr Giles would tell him something about it that he didn’t want to know.

He’d been able to ignore it at first, but he could no longer pretend that the masque hadn’t grown. It now completely covered the right side of his face and, more worryingly, was getting quite hard to remove after each time he tried it on. The tendril near his mouth now nestled right inside his cheek and others were making their way towards it. He could still see out of his right eye, but the vine was reaching into there too. It snaked into the corner and disappeared behind his eyeball. It didn’t hurt, just made him remove the masque very, very carefully. The plant-like design was thick and bushy now and wrapped itself around and into his ear. It made the world around him sound different and more exciting. It was making great inroads to the other side of his face now too. Soon it would be wound round and about his whole face. Even as it was now it slightly distorted his features as he looked in the mirror. The eyes were the biggest change though. He’d gained a more mature look, as if he knew things and had seen things. It wasn’t just when he was wearing the masque either. He would often see it when he was shaving or when he saw his reflection in a window. He wanted to talk to someone about it but didn’t want to seem stupid. Most of all he didn’t want to give it up and was scared what would happen if anyone found out.

Mr Giles asked to speak to him that Saturday after the shop closed. This worried Derek as usually they just chatted away anyway. Why was the old man being so formal? It turned out that Mr Giles was getting married. Derek didn’t have to fake his congratulations, he was thrilled for him! Mabel, it seemed, had accepted his proposal last weekend and they were going to move down to Brighton together. It had always been Mr Giles’ dream to live by the sea, and be nearer to his sister, and now he could finally do it. Derek assured him that he wouldn’t be leaving him in the lurch and that he was having trouble fitting his shifts in with his studies anyway (although they both knew he meant his social life!). Both men left that night happy after Mr Giles shut the shop early, broke open a bottle of Champagne, and rinsed off some dusty Champagne glasses.

Derek had the strangest dream that night. He dreamt that he snuck back to the shop late that night, broke open the door at the back and stole down to the basement to take the masque, all while only wearing his boxers. When he woke he assumed it had been a weird variation of the going-to-school-naked dream that he used to have, probably mutated by too much Champagne. Still, it had been very vivid. He got up and marvelled at the lack of hangover and got dressed. He’d forgotten to give his keys back last night and he thought he’d pop back over this morning and give them back.

When he got to the shop he saw a police car and inside Mr Giles talking to the policeman.

“The strange thing is” Mr Giles was explaining” that despite the damage, nothing seems to have been stolen; not even the money I left in the till last night!”

Derek offered to stay and clear up after he’d told the policeman what he could remember of last night (which wasn’t a huge deal after the second bottle of Champagne). This he soon started to regret when his memories of drinking more than just Champagne the night before blossomed along with an associated hangover. It was probably due to this that it took him so long to notice that the footprints leading downstairs had no shoes. That was odd, who broke into anywhere with naked feet? A thrill of panic went through him when he noticed that the bust with the dubious wig had been smashed to pieces. When Mr Giles went to make more tea, he quickly took some steps up to the shelf where it had once been and looked around. The box was gone. Someone else must have known what it could do. More to the point, what was he going to do without it? It wasn’t long until his exams and he didn’t think he could do it alone. He would have to find whoever took it and get it back, whatever it took.

Later that afternoon, and with his hangover mercifully in remission, Derek went back to his room and with a deep sigh lay down on his bed. It was disappointingly uncomfortable and he riffled around in the bedclothes to try and find the source. There he found the box with the masque nestled neatly inside.

The next few months passed in a blur. He’d been a bit behind everyone else as he’d re-written nearly half of his essays and now was trying to catch up on his revision. Daphne was being a pain too. She was starting to follow him everywhere, he couldn’t get away. Normally he wouldn’t have minded, but every moment he wasn’t studying, and there was precious little of that, he was trying to spend time with Sarah (the tall, dark girl from the shop). He’d finally had enough last night and confronted her. He’d taken Sarah to that trendy new cocktail bar last night for a bit of a chance to relax, and who did he meet at the bar but Daphne. He’d gone over to her in a fury.

“Now look, enough is enough, I know you fancy me, shame you didn’t say BEFORE I got a girlfriend, but that’s too bad. Fuck off and leave us alone!”

“How dare you!” Daphne shouted at him, her face going red, and she ran out.

Mercifully no-one in the bar commented on the outburst, but Derek felt bad for the rest of the evening and couldn’t really concentrate. Sarah finally gave up and said she had to get an early night and they both went back to their own rooms.

Derek slept fitfully that night. He kept thinking about all the people that had treated him unfairly and how he should have stood up for himself. The whole world seemed so unfair. He woke up to a loud banging on his door. It was Daphne.

“Wake up Derek, we need to talk”

Derek didn’t answer.

“I know you’re in there, I’ve just spoken to Sarah.”

Oh great, they’ve been talking about me, he thought.

“Fine, well if you don’t have the decency to let me in I’ll just have to say what I was going to out here where everyone can hear.” She took a deep breath as if building up to a shout, but her words were surprisingly calm and matter of fact.

“For the record I don’t fancy you, I’m just worried. You haven’t been yourself lately. I know you’ve got a new girlfriend and everything, but that’s no reason why you should have been behaving like that to your old friends. When was the last time you saw John or Johnny or Simon, or me for that matter? You’ve completely cut us out for your new, popular friends and your new girlfriend.” She paused again but Derek still declined to answer.

“The reason I was in the bar last night was you’d really upset Simon. You were standing right next to him when you were telling your new, trendy friends, that you didn’t know who he was! He was so upset he didn’t come out of his room for the rest of the day! What do you have to say for yourself? We’re all stressed right now, but you don’t see the rest of us denying we know our BEST friend.”

When she stopped talking there was a ringing in Derek’s ears. He knew she wouldn’t make something like that up and yet he couldn’t remember doing it at all. He couldn’t even imagine wanting to. Simon was, and always would be, his best friend. They’d known each other for ever and he couldn’t think why he’d ever say anything like that. He had been losing a lot of time recently, and there were times when people told him what a great night out they’d had with him when he was sure he’d just been in his room studying. He’d assumed it was just that time passed quickly when he was studying, and that they’d been mistaken, but what if it was true? What else had he done that he couldn’t remember? He got up to let Daphne in. He was going to have to do some serious apologising.

“Wha!” Daphne positively shrieked. He could see the fear in her eyes and ran to the mirror. Fuck, he thought. He must have put it on again last night and forgotten it was still there. That was happening a lot recently as well. He carefully prised it from his face, it took quite a while; it now covered the whole of his face and had worked its way into his eyes and mouth making it very difficult to remove. When he came back, masque safely removed, he saw she was white as a sheet.

Daphne didn’t say anything at first and when she did it came out in a rush. The calm measured voice forgotten.

“What the FUCK is that thing? You’re not into something kinky are you? Look I can help, we’ll get you away from those people, get you off any drugs you’re on…”

Derek couldn’t help laughing at her.

“No, no, no, nothing like that. It’s just a mask. Nothing’s going on. No drugs.”

Daphne calmed a little and sat down on his bed.

“Then what the hell is going on?”

Derek thought for a moment, unsure what to tell her. Anything he did say would sound ridiculous. Still, it couldn’t be worse than what she’d made up in her head. He told her everything, and was surprised how easy it came, what a relief it was to finally tell someone.

“Seriously?” Daphne said, one eyebrow raised in that incredibly annoying way. “You seriously expect me to buy that load of crap?”

She got up to go and he took her by the arm, unexpectedly spinning her ‘round. Then she saw how hurt he looked that she didn’t believe him and sat back on the bed.

“Oh” she said and then was silent for too long. “Look.” she finally said “we should take you to see someone”.

It took Derek a while to realise what she meant, and when he did he was mortified.

“There’s nothing wrong with my brain, you know. You’ve seen my grades, how everything’s been going so great. I’m telling you, it’s the mask.”

She looked at him suspiciously for a second, then got up and took it out of the box. When he realised what she was going to do he lunged at her and they fell into a painful heap on the floor.

“I was just going to try it on!” She said, pushing him roughly off her.

“Don’t, it’s dangerous.” Derek said this in a much more sulky way then he intended.

“Fine, she said.” Put it back in the box, turned and left, without another word.

Derek was left standing, watching the space Daphne had left behind.

Things were not going well for Derek. Everything he touched seemed to turn to crap. Susan left him, his new friends found him boring and his old friends weren’t talking to him anymore. What’s more, he’d accumulated library fines that wiped out the remainder of his windfall. He was broke, alone and couldn’t understand his notes, so he was gong to fail his exams. The only person who stood by him was Daphne, and he didn’t like her very much at the moment. She had hidden the box somewhere and refused to give it back. His whole life was going down the crapper and she wouldn’t lift a finger to help. Well that was it. He had no choice. Tonight, while she was out at one of the many parties she seemed to be at now, despite everyone else revising like crazy, he’d break into her room and get it back. Where else could she have to hide it?

That night he was still in a rage or he’d never have done it. He’d been in a rage a lot the past couple of days. It stopped him thinking clearly. All he could think about was the masque. It dominated his every waking moment and a lot of his sleeping ones as well. He dressed all in black and tiptoed out of his room, only to walk straight into Johnny.

“’Sup?” said Johnny, he seemed to be permanently stuck in the eighties.

Derek nearly leapt out of his skin. Then he realised that leaving his bedroom wasn’t actually a criminal act, and that Johnny would see this as quite normal. He took a deep breath and calmed down.

“Just going to the bar.” he managed.

Johnny brightened “me too” and Derek had no choice but to go and have a few beers.

It was actually quite nice catching up with Johnny. Derek realised it had been a long time since they’d really had a chance to chat. So it was no surprise that it was well after 2am when he finally left Johnny’s room where they’d polished off the last of Derek’s birthday whisky. So, a bit fuzzy headed, but still determined, Derek headed to Daphne’s room.

He’d stolen the knife they use to cut the lemons at the bar, a huge thing, but perfect for prising the door open, he thought. When he got there though the door swung open by itself and he quickly went inside. He spent a while going through her stuff and eventually found the box next to the bed, but it was empty. It was then he realised that she was in the bed! He couldn’t think how he had missed her when he first came in, or how she hadn’t woken her up. He’d put the light on for Christ’s sake. Still, there she was, fast asleep, and curling around her ear was a snaking glinting tendril. Derek gasped and then in a fit of rage held the knife over his head. As he plunged it down towards her head she rolled over, looked him right in the eyes and screamed. That was enough to bring him to his senses. He managed to alter his thrust, just enough to spear her stuffed bear, but missing her by a fraction of a millimetre, and fell on top of her.

There was a rumbling of students outside. Someone shot into the room, baseball bat in hand to find Derek on top of Daphne.

“Get the HELL off of her!” he yelled as other students crowded behind him.

Daphne struggled to get up but Derek gave her a significant look and pushed her back down.

“Sorry Geoff, Derek just startled me and we kind of got tangled up.” Daphne tried to work out why Derek wouldn’t let her up, but without letting the others know. Derek for some reason was pulling at her face and it hurt like hell, but she could see from his face that he was worried and something made her trust him, despite the circumstances. She felt something give and a rush of air to her face.

“I’m not leaving until I see you’re alright. Get off her!” He directed this to Derek who managed a surprisingly nimble stand-up-with-no-hands-while-hiding-the-knife manoeuvre.

Daphne sat up, smiling at Geoff.

“See, I’m fine. I’m really sorry that I woke everyone up.”

Geoff grunted and left and the rest of the students went with him.

“What the hell were you doing!” Daphne asked in a furious whisper.

Derek reached past her and pulled the masque from under her pillow. This did not improve Daphne’s mood.

“What!” she said, much louder than she’d intended. “You tried to kill me for that thing!”

“I didn’t though” he said, not able to look her in the eye. “When you screamed I snapped out of it. It wasn’t me. I’d never hurt you.”

“Why didn’t you just take the thing and be done with it?” she spat back.

“It was stuck to your face.” He said flatly. This time he managed to look her in the eye and saw the astonishment there.

Daphne hadn’t known she’d even put it on past that first time. She wanted to see why Derek was so obsessed with it. She was sure she’d only tried it on the once.

“What are we going to do?” She asked, tears welling in her eyes.

They’d talked for the rest of the night. Both of them too scared to go back to sleep. Around dawn Derek went back to his room to pack and they both met at the café for bacon sarnies.

“So it’s decided then. We’re going to Brighton.”

Neither of them had much to say in the car on the way down. Derek assumed that Daphne was trying to piece together the last couple of weeks. Finally they pulled up at the address on the scrap of paper and rang the doorbell. Mr Giles opened the door smiling broadly, but then his face fell as he saw the box.

“Oh, I was so hoping it wasn’t you dear boy.” Was all he said before stepping aside and letting them in.

Mabel seemed lovely, she made them all tea and produced a variety of sandwiches, listening politely to Mr Giles while he told them of how he’d come across the masque and how it had cost him his first wife. He’d become a successful travel writer and had been given it by a man who, in hindsight, seemed all too keen to get rid of it. He, like Derek, had become addicted and finally his wife had tried to take it from him. He’d left her in some godforsaken village at a time when women didn’t travel alone and definitely never travelled to areas like that. When he realised what he’d done he’d gone back, but it was too late, and he never saw her again. He’d returned to Britain and opened the shop. He kept the box hidden in the basement and piled things on top of it, hoping to forget. Derek could see that he didn’t want it back, but Mabel took it and locked it in a box under the stairs. She handed Derek the key and smiled.

“Now dear, hide this in as remote and inaccessible place as you can. No-one must ever find it, especially not us.”

With that, she politely but firmly suggested they leave, so they said goodbye, got in the car and drove back to uni.

Neither of them did as badly in their exams as they’d expected, what with all the drama. As a reward Derek’s parents gave him money for them to go backpacking for six months before he started to look for a job. Derek waited until they were in Indonesia before finally getting rid of the key. There was a trip to see a volcano and he dropped it down one of the vents. That night, in a beautiful restaurant under the stars, he proposed to Daphne. Tearfully she accepted. Their ordeal was finally behind them. No-one would ever find that particular key.

So that was it. I hope it wasn't too cringeworthy. I'm going to try and post a new story every month or so, but we shall see what happens. Any suggestions, including those on how to improve my blog, will be much appreciated.