Hello.
My name's Vincent, and this is my rather interesting story, as horrifying as it is.
I suppose I should start by saying that before all of these terrifying occurrences took place in my life, I wasn't exactly a firm believer in the "paranormal" or the "supernatural". But now that I've had one such encounter that I can safely say my life has been changed forever. I'm not too sure if it was for the best or the worst, but now I know I'm much wiser than before. There are monsters out there. Terrible, faceless, eyeless monsters that lurk in the shadows.
I used to revel in such stories as I found them fun to tell and listen to, as silly as a lot of them may seem.
But now....now I have seen that otherworldly forces are at work in the underbelly of human society. And they will take what they want, and will be constantly following you. Constantly watching you.
Now I suppose this little tale will be much more of a condensed memoir of sorts, rather than an outright story of my horrific experiences. I suppose I wanted to tell whoever may find and read this account a little bit about my life, before I go into the occurrences that led me to my current situation. In all honesty, I feel like whoever may find this story on paper or floating about on some online account or forum or whatever, they will find it long after I am gone from this world. In all honesty, I am constantly living in fear for my very life. I feel eyes all over me wherever I go. He's there. He's always there. Watching me....with no eyes.
1) The Old "Back Woods"[]
So as stated before, my name is Vincent. Vincent Carvel.
Me and my parents lived in Kent, a county in the south of England.
The Garden of England, it was known as. If Kent was indeed the Garden of England, then we lived in the 'Compost Heap', known as the Isle Of Sheppey.
It was odd that my parents had decided to move there. I figured they'd be more at home in a big city rather than in the middle of scenic nowhere, especially since they actually had to travel to the city for work anyway. But as it goes, much to my confusion, they apparently preferred to live in solitude. They say it's less stressful in the countryside. I didn't really understand, even as a child. Then again, people had always said I was a rather bright child at such a young age. I suppose I inherited my parents' brains, since both of them were doctors.
So, about my parents.
Jonathon and April Carvel.
Both highly esteemed medical professionals. Both of them were MRCS with PhD's across the board, from Anatomical Biology to Human and Animal Biomechanics. However, they weren't true doctors. They never helped anyone. They never performed any surgeries outside of postmortems. It was all a process of researching the same exact data over and over again, taking notes from autopsies and such. Every so often, in about the span of an entire year, some minor discovery was made and quickly forgotten months later, despite being made such a big deal out of a month or so prior to the "revelation".
They weren't real doctors. They just conformed to the same old routine, the same old processes and procedures. I don't even understand what they were doing with those so-called professions of theirs.
But anyway, I'm rambling. I apologise. I tend to do that a lot when I'm nervous, even when I'm writing.
So during my school years, I had a keen admiration for my parents. I guess it was a natural thing to go through as a child. I wanted to be just like them at the time. And as it would turn out academically, I was surging a sure pathway towards being a medical professional myself. I received constant praise from tutors for my work and I received top marks every time. Even at the age of ten, my parents and teachers alike were telling me I had a bright future ahead of me.
Little did they know just how it would all turn out in the end. But hey, how were they supposed to know, right? Oh, the irony.
At school, I was rather popular to say the least. I guess all the praise got to my head. I began to get a little greedy with the attention. Who wouldn't have thought that way in that situation?
I suppose I wanted to prove myself. All I did was answer meaningless questions and write up silly papers. I was moved to the higher tier of school, with much harder work to complete for the system. I suppose it was more of a challenge, but I never felt like I was accomplishing anything. Nothing at all. I was just seated there like everyone else.
And by some cosmic coincidence, on that very same day I began to feel this very frustration, I came across the rat.
You see, I only lived a short walk away from school where my home was, and my parents trusted me enough when I was nine that I could walk back to and from school safely. The pathway led directly to the quiet suburban neighbourhood.
But I didn't like that path. For some reason I hated the idea of having to pass all of those houses. I preferred the pathway down the "backwoods".
The backwoods; a small dirt road down a dense wooded area just situated by the cliff-side, right behind my house. The path was wide enough for a small car to drive down, but it reached a dead end at the foot of a large oak tree.
I remember that the woods were the centre-talk of many urban legends told amongst the other kids in the small suburban town. Tales of killer hobos, large wild cats and even a tall, bogeyman-esque creature known only as the "Treeman", a being that had supposedly kidnapped a few hitchhikers and sightseers that got lost within those woods at night. I assumed they had merely strayed too far towards the cliff side and tumbled over the edge to meet their fate. I never believed in such stories back then, but they were still fun to listen to.
I liked trekking through those old woods. I remember coming across all sorts of interesting things, mostly old rubbish. One time I found an entire bathtub just dumped right in the middle of the woods. A family of hedgehogs had nested there beneath a pile of fallen leaves. I also came across old rustic furniture and gargoyles to match, just carelessly chucked over the high wooden fences into the little forest, their shattered remnants left to wither and rust.
And of course, that's where I found the rat.
It was lying on its side in the damp grass, dying. Its guts hung out from an open gash along its stomach. Blood trickled from the wound and the wretched creature's mouth. It twitched and shivered. It was still alive, but barely. I could see the shaky rise and fall of its chest.
Seeing this creature struggle to cling on to life gave me a sudden idea.
The idea that..I could save him.
At the age of ten, I figured that I had enough "experience" to save this dying rat. All I had done was read countless books and revisited them over and over again until every little important detail had embedded itself into my brain. I felt that I could pull it off. Of course, looking back, I know that simply reading books about anatomy would not be enough to be qualified to achieve such a task, as many people will point out. But at the time that thought had never once crossed my mind. I was excited to try this out.
I scooped up the rat and placed it inside my backpack, forgetting to empty my books and lunchbox first, thus drenching them in the brown sticky blood. I suppose I was "lucky" I didn't catch a disease. Though where I am at the moment I wouldn't really attribute to any "luck". Well, any good luck, I mean.
I took the rat to my room, and laid it out on my desk. Miraculously, it was still alive, but I could see the breathing was becoming more shallow. I acted fast. I grabbed my mother's medical kit I had "borrowed" for the ideal occasion such as this. I pulled open a book on diagrams of mammal anatomy, flicking through the pages until I found one for rats. It looked rather complex and fiddly, but I thought I could manage it. What did I have to lose?
This was a challenge. The first one I ever had.
And, despite what doubts many may have had with my childish methods, I did it.
I saved it. Yes, I definitely saved the rat's life...for a few minutes.
I have placed all the organs back into their vital positions, and even sewed up the heavy slashes in the flesh. But despite my most driven efforts, the rat died. It had lost too much blood, and couldn't stand up. Its legs were broken. In my blind rush to save the organs, I have forgotten about checking for broken bones.
I threw the corpse over the garden wall, along with the filthy school books and lunchbox, to rot in the woods behind our tall wooden fence. I was determined to fix my mistake. This was a big step for me. I couldn't back down, not when I was incredibly close.
I had just made a few mistakes. Everyone makes mistakes. And I tried to help, but I was inexperienced. Everyone was right. Who is everyone? No one told me I was inexperienced. Had my parents alluded to this assumption, and I had just subconsciously taken it into consideration? Into my own personal doubt? Whatever. I was going to prove myself. I was going to show them.
2) Homeschooling[]
Over the next two years between primary and secondary school, I took to a daily task of finding and locating dying animals in the woods.
Turns out such a feat is hard to come by. A lot of animals, sure. But dying ones? Well, I found a baby bird once, but it was already in the process of being devoured alive, having been dropped from the nest and had unfortunately landed on an angry ant hill.
I find it quite ironic now that I look at it. How the baby bird left the nest, only to end up in a life-threatening disaster. Could that bird have represented me?
Anyways, I didn't find many dying animals, and during the Autumn term off school, I was incredibly frustrated that my life ambition had to be put on hold.
Then I remembered the family of hedgehogs in the old bathtub. Were they still there?
Well, regardless of whether they were the same hedgehogs or not, I did find some hedgehogs there. It was unfortunate that upon picking them up, I may have been a little too rough. The thing's legs ended up broken. It let out a pathetic panicking series of squeaks as its hind legs dangled helplessly beneath my hand.
However, I'm happy to say for my childhood-self, that they were not broken for long.
Yes, in just under a solid week, I had successfully mended the hedgehog's legs. It was as healthy as when I first found it.
Well, at least I knew I had the confidence to mend small bones.
But now more 'internal' things were on my mind.
The other hedgehogs will have to suffice for my further studies.
There were some successes, and there were some failures. Mostly failures. And soon I was clean out of hedgehogs.
I had to improvise.
A few more rats, a bird or two (however, I found the birds especially tricky) and soon I had resorted to more drastic measures;
I visited the local pet's shop. Well, it wasn't quite local. It was a longer distance than school, but my parents never seemed to take notice. I assumed they just thought I was going out to play with the other kids. When I finally arrived, I asked for a guinea pig, who would soon be my longest surviving subject.
Ah yes, that guinea pig was a trooper. My parents were rather fond of him, but of course they had no idea of what occurred in my room. My secret experiments.
However, one day during March, I found him lying dead in the cage. Perhaps I had over worked him. Yes, it was pretty evident that he had run his metre. Stitches had pretty much taken up about 45% of his bodily form.
Luckily I was gifted with the talent of 'forced tears'.
After disposing of the body (once again over the garden fence) I let out a wailing and juiced up my tear ducts until I had unleashed Niagara Falls. I told my parents that my guinea pig had "ran away", that it had leapt from my window and by now had gone into the woods.
Well, it was partially true.
My unquestionable sadness was swiftly rewarded with another guinea pig from my sympathetic parents. Unfortunately, this one had "ran away" much sooner than the previous one. Old age, apparently.
With no subjects to experiment on, I was at a deep loss. My skills were improving. I knew they were. I just needed one more animal to practise on. Something larger, perhaps.
One day whilst contemplating this, I looked out of my window.
A silver lining had perched itself atop my garden fence, licking its paws.
The neighbours' cat.
No. I needed more time. I needed years of practice, even if I had to take excruciatingly long breaks in between each session, at least months at a time. But I had to be patient. I had to be.
After scavenging a few more critters, my skill was improving. I even managed to return a few back into the woods, alive mind you.
Then came my chance to prove myself.
At fifteen years of age, I seized my opportunity. By opportunity, I of course mean the neighbours' cat. I was rather swift for a teen. The cat never even scratched me when I caught it.
I hurried back to the house, and laid the cat on the desk.
I wondered to myself "what shall the diagnosis be this time? What ghastly injuries would have transpired to land this cat in my capable hands?"
I then thought "Ah, of course! A car accident. The classic example of an injured pet. That means the legs would have been broken, the innards ruptured, with heavy internal bleeding. And a heavy blow to the head, shattering the skull."
And as soon as the equipment had been carefully laid out for the upcoming procedure, the cat had sustained all of those injuries.
It lay there, crippled and helpless, awaiting my care.
I set to work, to fix her up.
Bodies are much like sculptures. Highly complex sculptures. It takes a special hand to repair one. Hands, I might add, I have. For during this session with the neighbour's cat, with its fractured body lying still on my desk, I managed to fix it.
Yes, I had accomplished what was thought was to be impossible.
Now, I will not go into detail about how I achieved such an operation. A magician never reveals his secrets, and neither does a miracle-worker. Just believe it. Soon the cat was skulking about on my desk again, albeit, much angrier with me than before. It was understandable, honestly.
However, my parents' had heard the angry screeches and growls from downstairs in the living room. I had completely forgotten they were still home!
They charged upstairs. They slammed open my door with such force that the cat was frightened out of its skin. It leapt out of the window, just in time for my parents to see.
They also saw the scalpels and makeshift breathing apparatus on my desk. They saw the spots of blood on the wooden surface, and on my very hands.
Then I got absolute Hell from my parents.
My father sat opposite me at the dining table. He sat there, emaciated and bald, little wire glasses sat on his ghastly hooked nose. His black suit and pale head made him look like some kind of alien to me. My mother sat between us, as a sort of mediator. The same steel glasses as my father was perched on her pointed nose, her black bob-cut fit around her head like a moulding mushroom. The same black suit as my father. They might as well have been government agents, interrogating me.
I learnt two things from our little "talk".
One, I knew I could no longer rely on my parents. They were content with staying in their humdrum cycles of filing papers and cutting up dead bodies. They did not seem to care about the feats I had achieved. They were more concerned with my mental well-being. My mental well-being was fine. They should see how I am now, and spot the difference between there and now! They were the ones that could not fathom the idea of stepping away from the proverbial cycle of doctorates and meaningless tasks to amount to nothing in the long term. They had no ambition. They did not care that their names would not go down in the history books, and soon would be long forgotten like every other nameless conforming sap in the world.
After our little discussion, I no longer wished to be like my parents anymore. I saw them for what they really were. Puppets. Frauds. Cogs in the machine.
And two, it was the first time my father had been truly angry.
I had never seen him so angry, especially after I explained myself to them, calling them puppets and what not. It was obvious he was not buying my plea, or my reasoning for my actions and their own denial of the things I could do.
As much as I hate to admit it, when my father had unleashed all hell on me at that dining table, it was the first real time I ever experienced genuine fear.
And it certainly wasn't the last.
3) College years[]
Soon came the time where I would be going off to college, of course. The original plan was to go somewhere a little closer to home for easier travel. But ever since the whole "cat incident", my parents had other plans for me. I was pretty much banished from the house; to live as far away from them as possible. I didn't protest however. I figured I just needed a chance to spread my wings without those two dead-weights dragging me down with them.
This little part I always get both exhilarated and frustrated to tell. My college years were abundant with new kinds of "interactions", ones that I had grown very fond of during my lustful adolescents. Nowadays, I am completely isolated from society.
Well...almost.
I'll never truly be alone with that thing constantly watching my back. I rarely get any privacy. And the only time I do, the only "interactions" I'll be getting these days are from my fucking right hand!
Well, to get back on track, my time at college was frivolous and fruitful with new people and things to do. During 'Freshers Week', all of the freshmen including myself were piled into the onsite bar during some kind of introductory event. The idea was we'd all wear these ridiculous T-shirts with our names, course title and even a relationship status written on by ourselves with bright neon highlighters. All the shirts by the end of the night had been decorated with either phone numbers or crudely drawn penises and breasts.
I knew full well that this was all for fun, but to be honest I just couldn't get into it. I didn't feel like it at the time. I had too much to think about.
I discarded the stupid shirt.
And it seemed that a particular girl that night had the same cynical idea.
Her name was Jenny.
Gorgeous, sexy, tall and curvaceous with luscious brown hair. Her cynical personality was what really drew me to her. She was just leaning by the crowded bar, staring around to the imbeciles littering the room, all with a snarky little smirk on her glossy lips.
I had a feeling if I had been any old Joe, she would have completely ignored me. However I had a few other talents aside from my surgical skills.
I was blessed with two things in my youth; my good-looks and my "gift-of-the-gab" as they say.
I had rather handsome light blonde hair, carefully combed back everyday. And my figure was quite decent as well, if I do say so myself. Yes, puberty had certainly been kind to me.
Mostly girls and people in general would talk about my eyes. God gifted me with electric-blue eyes, with special hypnotic powers, if you know what I mean. Wink, wink.
Now it's all been taken away from me. My form, my good-looks, driven to shambles. I haven't been eating right, I'll admit now. My body is now emaciated beyond recognition from my former athletic self. My skin is much paler from lack of sunlight. I've been hiding for so long. And I swear even my hair is falling out.
Anyway...that's enough complaining about my current life. Let's get into the good stuff. It's really the only memories that serve me any sort of comfort and...entertainment, during my loneliest of nights.
So, about Jenny. She was wearing a ridiculously tight dress, very low-cut. High heels complemented by black lace tights with little floral patterns that showed parts of her lovely peachy skin.
Those tights certainly didn't stay on her for too long that night, I can tell you that.
She invited me back to her room, where I took control. She didn't seem to mind though. In fact she seemed to have enjoyed it, as did I. She screamed and moaned like a kitty-cat on heat, her body pressed up against the dresser mirror as I pinned up her hands against the wall, her gorgeously silky soft legs wrapped tightly around my waist as I pumped into her like an engine piston working overtime.
Ah, good memories. Good times.
I miss those times.
I miss those activities...
And as weeks went by, me and Jenny would often end the day with our routine of making wild love whenever we could. I seemed to have garnered quite a solid reputation thanks to her constant gossiping to her friends. It was good to feel appreciated again. It's a shame it was for all the wrong reasons.
Even though I enjoyed my time with her, and Jenny would always hold a very special place in my memory for being my first sexual encounter, I'm sad to say that eventually I had to let her go.
She had grown more like a burden on me. She was holding me back from my greater ambitions. And on top of that, she had become so terribly dull.
None of her conversations were interesting. She spoke nothing of greater things, despite her studying to be a paramedic. I thought she'd at least have a little bit of interest in the world of medical science. But no, she'd rather gossip and drone about her friends, and texts she got from them, and her MySpace page and so-called "hilarious" stories of people and events I could really care less about.
I let her down as gently as I could. She was upset at first, as expected, though within a week or so she had met some other fellow. Someone who could hopefully stomach her boring-as-sin stories.
I slept around for a bit, now that I was a free man. But soon it became tiresome. The sex was fun and all, but what I lacked was companionship. Some sort of intellectual stimulation that I could grow from. I enjoyed listening to what people thought about the human condition as a physical being, and I'd even offer my own thoughts on the subject, fuelling the seeds of my passion. But so far, I found no one like that. No one seemed to even care about the courses they were doing, or the futures they were leading up to. They'd rather all get drunk and fuck each other like animals and savages.
I was beginning to lose hope.
My future was heading to a dark, soulless road.
That was until I met her.
Kelly.
I remember it so clearly. It was during one of those tedious house parties I was invited to attend (by Jenny, of all people) and I just sat by the kitchen counter, bored out of my mind. Though at one point, me and Jenny "re-acquainted" in the bathroom but nothing else happened. She was wasted beyond the point of even walking straight during that night.
I was about to just leave straight after, until I saw someone I hadn't even noticed on campus before.
She was leaning against the wall. She had short light reddish-brown hair that messily came down in slight curls. She had heavy eye shadow, and her gothic appearance was made more prominent by her cute little black leather jacket and black shorts. She wore these little ankle boots and a bright blue vest.
What really struck me about her was her eyes. She had the biggest, prettiest brown eyes I had ever seen. For a second, I actually felt ashamed I had not spoken to her sooner, or even noticed her. See, unlike the other girls on campus during the night scene, she wasn't goofing around getting drunk and silly. Her appearance wasn't even that sexually stimulating to me. She was more....cute.
I never really felt that way about a cute girl before.
She looked at me from across the room, then rolled her eyes. I smiled. I saw a little challenge. By the end of that night, I was going to change her mind about me.
I slipped through the crowd and soon I was leaning against the wall next to her. I took it she was a rather cynical type, though it turned out she was rather playful. It was a nice change from all the other predictable speech patterns of all the other twerps surrounding us.
"So, you made it this far, huh?" She smirked at me, nonchalantly shoving a cigarette into my mouth.
I coughed, and she giggled sweetly. After a while, she got a little more comfortable with my company. I figured she was nervous, but it turned out she was just sick of people here. I told her I felt the exact same way. I was actually rather surprised to be speaking to someone I could actually relate to. It got better. She told me how (in her own words) she was 'tired of all these simpletons on campus, lurching about like drunken zombies'.
"Like seriously," I remember her telling me, "as soon as I got here my house did nothing but get high and played card games in front of a pile of kebabs and chips. It's ridiculous! I thought we came here to make something of our shitty lives, not making them even more shitty!"
I don't know why, but we kept talking for about three hours straight, joking about and generally mocking people around us. The rest of the crowd was too far gone to even care about the two of us just leaning against that wall and conspiring against the world around us.
This never happened to me until now. Usually I'd just cut straight to the chase with a girl so I could take her home, but with Kelly I just felt compelled to just be by her side and just chat. I never chatted before, not even with my tutors. Finally, someone my age I could actually relate to! Someone who shared my same interests, my same cynical opinions. I had found my soulmate.
I eventually did go back to her room, but we never had sex. She just wanted to show me her journal. She was studying to become a vet, and made wonderful sketches of animals. So detailed. She had clear talent. In return I showed her my sketches of human anatomy, and various drawings of how I envisioned human enhancements for medical procedures the future might possibly be (all hypothetical designs, of course). She wasn't freaked out by my drawings unlike most people who had seen them like Jenny, but instead she was incredibly enthusiastic. She became more upbeat and bubbly as the evening went on, and we'd travel to and fro from our rooms, showing off sketches and soon watching some dumb horror movies with each other with a bag of popcorn to share.
We never got to have sex. Apparently she was "saving herself", whatever that was supposed to mean. I respected her wishes, since I still wanted to have someone to talk to. I didn't want to upset her.
Though I longed to know what she felt like..
What it was like to touch her..
A week later, she transferred to my Bio-mechanics class, currently studying Human Enhancements at that time. To "broaden her options" as she told me. I figured it was just because she wanted to see me more.
I noticed that in class she made very bizarre comments. Everyone else took them as jokes but I could see something much more to them. They were ideas, not yet nurtured to being full-fledged. She thought much more out of the box more than anyone in the class, and I'd dare say...even me.
The ideas she had that could improve the human body were amazing! But no one, not even the tutor heeded her outrageous visions for what the human body could achieve in the future of medicine. How could those hypocrites just dismiss her like that?
I remember that another week or so in that class, I asked her if she wanted to be my girlfriend. And she just simply grinned at me with her cute toothy grin, jokingly saying "No, but I would like you to be my boyfriend". She then pushed me against the wall, kissed my lips, then like nothing happened, just left through the door.
She was a strange one, that Kelly.
But we eventually got together as a couple.
More or less...
She never expressed any desire for a sexual relationship. She wanted to wait for the right moment. I waited for a long time. I enjoyed her company thoroughly, sure, but I felt like we should be something a little more intimate than just a few jokey anecdotes and a kiss or two. I wanted to touch her. I wanted to feel her. I wanted to have her so badly. I was reaching a breaking point, but I wanted to keep her company. My stupidity got the better of me. I tried to think about how I had gotten into this situation.
Then I remembered something. Something I had forgotten long ago.
My work!
My experiments!
She had made me forget all about them!
College has not helped me at all to progress with my life's work. My claim to history. It had hindered me!
I certainly couldn't wait for university to reach my goals. I had wasted far too much time already at this dump, and with that girl.
No..Kelly wasn't to blame. It was everyone else. Kelly was just like me. We both had big ideas, being forever clouded by small people.
Kelly wasn't to blame.
Kelly wasn't to blame.
She wasn't to blame.
She never was.
My poor Kelly.
I just hope she can forgive me..
4) Homecoming[]
The summer semester had arrived much later in the year than I had anticipated. Me and Kelly exchanged numbers and a final kiss on our last day, and I went back home by train.
The house was silent. My parent's still did not welcome me. I could feel their shame in the air. It stank. I didn't want to be there for long.
I went back to my old room. Everything had been moved out to the attic. I dragged it all back down and began making my latest plans.
My patience had worn thin, right to its last thread. It was a bizarre mixture of my frustration with Kelly, and my loathing for that damnable college for wasting my time and mentality. I was pissed I couldn't carry out my practices, to say the least. There was sure to be some sort of fuss from my parents, and I simply couldn't handle another lecture about what I was doing was wrong.
I don't understand. I still don't to this day. People seem to be so attached to this concept of morality. It's a leash to greater discoveries. It tethers those who wish to remain oblivious to what amazing and miraculous things could happen that will easily improve and enrich our lives as humans. I especially don't understand this concept when it comes to animals. People I can understand. People show emotion, thoughts, desires. They can express themselves, and in return it's easy for us to understand because, well, we are human too.
Animals, on the other hand, express no visible emotion. They cannot speak. They cannot produce any potent language for us as a species to understand. Yet we still treat them as equal to us. Yet we kill and eat them everyday, and humiliate them as pets, and apparently that's just fine? We can chop them up into burger meat, but when one such as myself performs future-changing experiments that could improve so many lives onto these creatures, will people soon get up in arms about it? They think they are more elevated in the ways of virtues than myself? Fucking hypocrites!
If there's one thing I cannot stand, it's hypocrites!
If that's the way people truly feel, then by all means a human life is worth just the same as an animal's life.
At that time, contemplating this exact same thing in my dark lifeless room, I suddenly came to an idea.
A plan.
A plan to finally catch up with my work.
No more messing around, I thought.
It's time for the gloves to come off. I had to take chances.
I was playing it safe.
I was being like my parents.
I was being like Kelly.
Little virgin Kelly, waiting for an innocent little day out with me, her little boy-toy named Vincent who may as well have been impotent! What difference would it have made? I shared my thoughts with her, and my company. Why couldn't we share more? Why had I traded Jenny for her? Jenny had spoiled me rotten, but Kelly hoarded what joy and passion we could have had together.
She was treating me like a waste of space. I was nothing to her. Just a shoulder for her to cry on when her home life got too sad and miserable. That's all I was to her. I was just someone to talk to. I wasn't her lover, I was just some fucking doll she could pull the string and get talking!
I knew who I would use to help me with my latest and greatest plan.
Soon, Kelly would see things my way.
I sincerely hope she did.
5) A Date With Kelly[]
So, before I explain the details of my grand plan, here's the checklist of items I remember writing up for it:
-a roll of industrial tape
-black spray paint
-a small flashlight
-rope and some plastic cable ties
-tongs
-scalpel
-five or so small jars
-a bottle of embalming chemicals from my mother's study.
and finally, I needed an outfit. My disguise.
I found some black clothing including a hoodie and tracksuit bottoms, and black trainers. It will be dark during the procedure. I needed to blend into the shadows of the night. I was originally going to use a balaclava or a ski mask, but I wanted to do this with a little more 'flair'. Something to stimulate the nerves, and fuel the adrenaline-filled terror of the night.
I had an old hockey mask I wore for Halloween when I was eight years old. I had kept it within the attic ever since. It was still intact, but I figured a hockey mask wasn't really me. It was a tad too cliche for my taste. I suppose I just have very odd tastes. But I liked the idea of remodelling things to my own desires.
I changed up the appearance of the mask, taping and masking over the holes, save for the eyes. I painted the mask a pale, ghostly blue, with pitch black rings around the eyes. I was to be the phantom in the woods, and like a phantom, I will disappear into the night soon after my deed is done.
Little did I know this simple mask was to soon be my burden in life.
About a week of preparation, I had put my plan into action. Having placed all of my equipment in my satchel, now all I needed was a vehicle. During my time at college I had applied for driving lessons and after passing, I acquired my licence. However I didn't have my own car, which I needed for my little venture. Despite still feeling sour towards me, my father had forgiven me enough to let me borrow his old junk car.
I suppose I should have thanked him. I just took it though.
I cleaned it up to make it look more appealing, however, I had "forgotten" to fill up the radiator with enough water. Oops. At least there was enough to head to the train station and back, at least that's what I assumed at the time after calculating the exact measurements needed.
Now all I needed was a safe place to store my equipment until the time came for me to use them, as well as an isolated place to carry out my little plan.
And what better place to do this than the backwoods.
The trees were very dark at night, casting perfect covering shadows. And the garden fences from my parents' house and their neighbours' houses were high enough to serve as the perfect blind-spot for any potential 'peeping-toms looking through their windows at night. The old wide oak tree in the centre of the path would serve as a great endpoint. But now I needed a place nearby to stash the equipment. I marked a nearby tree using the black spray paint. A large black 'X' served as the marker. If anyone, including Kelly were to spot this, they would just assume it was a tree marked for the purpose of being cut down at a later date. Or just assume it was simple graffiti.
Then came time to make the call.
I phoned up Kelly and asked if she'd like to come down to the island for a little date. I'd pick her up at the train station, and maybe grab a bite to eat.
She was of course ecstatic to hear from me, and agreed to come down that afternoon.
Perfect, I thought. The sooner, the better.
I decided I should get her a little gift. Something special. I drove down to the high-street near the train station, to pick up a little something for her from a clothes shop; a rather fetching pair of black stiletto high heels (I have to admit I have a thing for a girl wearing heels. Call it a secret weakness of mine).
Half an hour passed and I parked near the train station. Apparently I had gone a little over the attended time since Kelly was already waiting there on a bench outside. I cursed under my breath. I'll have to keep a closer eye on the time for the rest of this day, I thought to myself. I can't afford to make any more mistakes. Not this time.
When I saw Kelly, I was a little disappointed to see her wearing a large black jumper. I was hoping since it was summer, she'd be wearing something....less. Oh well, she was wearing a pair of figure-fitting jeans, tight enough to show her shapely legs. Unfortunately they were "complimented" by a pair of ugly rugged black boots. Still going for the goth style, apparently, despite having a large white cartoon heart shape in the centre of her jumper.
Well, I was glad I got her those shoes. They'll look much better on her than those horrible boots.
I stepped out of the car and was instantly greeted with a hug.
I hugged her back. The last true hug I gave her.
We sat inside McDonalds, wallowing over a greasy burger and stack of processed fries. I couldn't stomach this food, but Kelly just chowed down like no tomorrow. I should've joined her, but the food was so off-putting.
Though...there was something else.
The instant I stepped out of that car, I could not shake the feeling that I was being watched from a distance. I chalked it up to just mere paranoia, considering what I was planning later that evening, but soon the feeling became stronger. By the time we finished our meal and took a walk in the nearby park, it was like someone was breathing down my neck. I couldn't see anyone. I couldn't feel anything physically on my neck. But I just felt like something was there. Always lurking just out of sight.
After an ungodly amount of time passed, we finished our typical gossiping nonsense and she wanted to sit by the bay and watch the sunset. How typical, and rather cliched. But I went along with her desires just to share a little moment with her, if that's what she truly wanted. I had about an hour to kill, anyway.
During our time just sitting and staring off to the sun-bleached dingy sea, I gave her my little gift. She opened it and seemed pleasantly surprised enough, not too overly enthusiastic, but I suppose I wasn't expecting her to be jumping with joy. And at least she tried them on. They looked good on her. Very good. They complimented her figure nicely.
Soon time was upon us. I had told her that that evening we'd be going to a local nightclub. She reluctantly agreed after I told her there was literally nothing else on this mud-hole of an island. Though she seemed content with simply walking about in a children's park. She even had a go on the swings, like a child. I admired her spontaneity and naivety when it came to certain experiences, but I feared that would be her downfall.
Well...
6) An Evening With Kelly[]
We drove back to my house. She wasn't familiar with the island. She had no clue where we were going, but trusted my judgement. It was getting dark by the time we arrived at the top end of the island where I lived. I tried my best to stay clear of the suburban areas, though Kelly was already getting a little suspicious.
"Wait, this place doesn't look like a high-street. Where are we going?"
I had to think of an excuse, obviously. "Well, I thought we could just stop at my house. I wanted to get ready first before we went out."
Kelly scoffed at my reply. "Ha, Get ready? Vinnie, you're already wearing a frigging waistcoat and tie to go to McDonalds! Dress up anymore, and we might as well go to a country club for our night out!"
Hmm, she wasn't wrong. I suppose I was a little overdressed at the time, but I wanted my night with her to be special. So, I dressed in my best, and prepared to carry out this procedure like a gentleman. It may very well be the last time I could be as such. After this night, I'll have no idea what I was to think of myself.
I was nervous. I'm sure anyone would be in my shoes. But I knew this was for the greater good.
I was going down in history. And it would all start right there, at that very night.
I knew that if I wanted to get anywhere in this life, sacrifices had to be made.
A few more minutes of driving, and I had arrived at the entrance leading into the backwoods. Here we go, I thought. No turning back. Only forward, forward ever onwards, to stake my claim in human society as one of the greats.
Kelly would understand.
But when she saw the woods, she grew suspicious again.
"Erm, Vince? Why are going down some spoopy woods? I thought we were going to your house."
"We are Kelly. We are."
"So you live in the woods like a weird hermit? Ha, I knew it! That's why you're so strange."
"Haha, no. This is just a shortcut. Besides, I like these woods."
She nodded and lent on my shoulder, staring out the window.
Sure enough, we reached a dead end. The large oak tree loomed overhead. Quite foreboding, the more I think about it now.
It had a very wide trunk, very short and fat. A person would barely put their arms around it.
A red light began to flash from the dashboard, and steam began to slowly rise from the hood of the car. Right on cue. Excellent planning. Spot on.
Kelly began to panic.
"Shit! Is the car on fire or something?"
Oh, no no," I reassured her. "It's the heater. I guess I forgot to fill it up with water."
"Then couldn't we just reverse outta here and head back to your house? We can fill it up there. And I can finally meet your parents."
I shuddered at that thought. I had to explain the situation to her.
"I can't drive with a steaming heater. The whole engine would explode!"
Kelly sat back in her seat, defeated. I had convinced her.
"We'll just have to wait until it cools down some more." I reassured her, gently rubbing her shoulder as I smiled at her. She smiled back, though she still seemed a little unsure.
It turned the key, the car lights and engine switched off. I could still make out the steam billowing against the window. It was a still night. Deathly quiet. I had hoped for at least a little bit of wind. But one can't control the weather. Besides, there was absolutely no turning back.
As I sat there in the car, looking back at Kelly, I thought about all of those stories I had heard as a kid. I imagined a killer with a hook for a hand coming by and trying to smash the windows, grabbing at Kelly.
Would I attempt to save her if that had happened?
Of course I would.
The moment came when I had to make my move. I took a deep breath. This was it. I was nervous, but I was not shaking. At least she couldn't tell I was nervous.
I turned to her, and as innocently as I could I told her;
"I, erm...I need to take a piss. I'll be back in a sec, okay? I'll just go in those bushes."
She nodded and half-smiled. I darted out of the door, and dived into the dark trees.
The satchel was still there. Good. I took out the contents, and began to slip into my disguise.
Minutes passed of changing into that uncomfortable black attire, and when I finished, I stared back at Kelly still in the car.
The poor girl was bored witless. She checked her phone occasionally, either to text someone or to check the time. I felt a little guilty, just leaving her alone like that. I wondered if I should do something.
For a second, I thought that if I was to scream, then she'd be concerned for me. She'd think I have been attacked by a masked madman.
But I knew I couldn't do that. I had to be quiet. Besides, she'd probably panic and flee the car. Now was my one and only chance.
I put on my mask, and as quiet as a mouse, I slunk behind the car, low and carefully so she wouldn't see me in the rearview mirror. I caught a glimpse of her turning towards where I had ran to the bushes. She looked through the window to try and see me, but by now I was standing by the opposite door, right behind her, staring right at the back of her head.
I pulled out the keys and unlocked the car. It beeped, the lights flashed and Kelly jumped in surprise as the doors unlocked with a loud click-click. She couldn't see me come out from the bushes. She was clearly concerned and confused. And if only she had time to turn and see me standing by that door, right behind her.
But it was too late for her to make any decision, as I made mine.
As quick as I possibly could, I pulled open the door and seized her.
She didn't even scream.
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
It was like she couldn't even breathe. She was so terrified.
She simply blacked out.
Everything was going according to plan.
By the time Kelly had come to, I had already tied her up to the oak tree. I had to lay her by the roots of the tree to steady her body, and her arms were bound by the cable around the trunk, spreading her shoulders and chest. Her legs bound together by cable ties, her mouth had been taped shut. She couldn't scream, only wince. She tried to struggle but it was no use for her. I had tied the flashlight onto an overhanging branch, positioned so that I shone down onto her belly, where I could see her clearly in the dark.
I was by her side, seated by my satchel, and she panicked when she saw me. She tried to scream through the black tape. She thrashed about in a vain attempt to escape. But to no avail.
We had come this far, Kelly.
She never took her eyes off me as I dug through the bag to get my tools. Her soft brown eyes that could melt a heart like butter, and now they were piercing daggers in the back of my head, glaring at me with hatred and fear. I wish she knew it was me. I wish I could have taken that mask off so she knew it was me, and she would understand.
But I didn't.
I couldn't.
I wanted to take the mask off.
I want to take the mask off.
But I can't.
I leaned over her, scalpel in hand. The experiment was simple. I wanted to know if I was able to heal a human being, minutes away from the brink of death. No animals, no birds, but a live human subject.
Once I did what I had to do, I had to....terminate my subject.
I considered a lobotomy, but it was too dark to see properly, and I was too nervous to try something that complex for the time being. Perhaps at a later date my parents would have had to suffice for such an experiment.
After I was finished, I would then put Kelly back into the car. It's such a dark wood. And right by a cliffside too. An accident could easily happen. Haven't people driven over this cliff before, in the dead of night? No one would question it.
The sea will do the rest, as well as the carnivorous scavengers below, to get rid of any potential evidence.
I would have to disappear, start a new life, as I too would be perceived dead.
Vincent Carver would be dead, alongside his love Kelly Tilbury. I wonder what new name I would have chosen.
A quick slice, and her jumper burst open. Kelly screamed and her back arch, in a desperate attempt to pull away from the blade. And immediately, when I saw her peachy warm flesh, I was overcome with lust.
I was to be a gentleman that night, but I couldn't resist the touch. I would never get another chance.
I grabbed her bra and ripped it clean off of her chest. She screamed and tears rolled down her cheeks. It was a natural reaction, and I expected it. I ignored her cries.
I placed my hand upon her small breast. I gave it a gentle squeeze.
It felt so soft.
I wish I could've taken off my gloves. I wanted to feel her soft warm skin against my own skin. But I knew I couldn't.
I wanted to so badly.
She looked up at me, her eyes full of fear.
I couldn't bear it when she looked at me like that, but I knew I had to discipline myself. This had to be done.
No more emotion. No more morality. No more earthly ties.
I was on the road to a path of greatness, my pathway inching ever closer. So close.
So fucking close.
I sunk my blade deep into her flesh, and began to slice upward, for her belly button to her collar bone. Kelly's eyes became hazy. She moaned in what I imagined was her pain, and her eyes rolled back inside her head, and her eyelids closed.
That was the last time I ever saw those beautiful brown eyes.
I'll never see them again.
But only for a split second.
And it would be horrifying.
7) Him[]
The nightmare began as soon as my blade had finished the incision.
I felt it again. That watchful presence over me. For a brief second, I thought that it was my parents. Had they found me out again? Was it too late for me?
But then I heard the noises. The wind. The creaking of branches.
They weren't branches. And the wind...it was breathing. Deep heavy breaths of a monster that shook the entire woods.
I saw the spindly shadow loom over me. I heard the shrill ringing in my ear, like harsh white noise from a broken radio. It screeched and drilled into my brain. I winced in sheer agony, the noise was that unbearable. I felt as if my ears were about to pop.
I turned to my right, to face whoever was casting the shadow, and had disrupted my ambitions.
It was, what I thought was, my father.
It looked like him. Tall, bony structure. Black suit that blended with the surrounding dark shadows, and topped off the uncanny appearance with a bald, pale head.
But something was wrong. The head was too pale. It was white, in fact. As white as the full moon. It hovered impossibly high amongst the branches, luminescent and facing me, staring down at me.
But it had no face. No ear, no mouth, no nose, no glasses...and no eyes.
No eyes.
He looked at me. I could feel His anger. I had angered Him again.
I assumed He was always angry with me.
It was Him, the one that had been watching me that whole day. My entire life. Ever since my conception. He was always there, watching over me with disappointment.
Branches protruded from His back. Thick, black appendages, almost like tentacles. Impossible. But I could see it so clearly.
This monster, this thing, was responsible for destroying my whole life. It dashed away my dreams, my chance in hope that one day I would be recognised by the world. And now He stood before me, ready to finish me off once and for all.
So I ran.
I ran as fast as I ever had done.
It felt like minutes of me running blindly into those damned woods, but when I turned to look back to see if the beast was in pursuit, I could still see that fucking oak tree!
How was that possible? I had passed a dozen trees, yet I only appeared to be a few feet away from when I first started running! How?
The creature was not in pursuit. He had now taken an interest in Kelly, who was still tied up. I couldn't save her.
Those black tendrils wrapped around the oak tree, infecting it with its vile touch. It corrupted it with its poison, I saw it for myself. The bark peeled back to reveal a black sticky fungal growth underneath, like a cancerous lump. It pulsed and bubbled, liquefied and slid down towards Kelly, who still lay beneath. The flashlight still hung from the branches and I could see everything that happened. It poured into her open wound, followed soon by the creature's tentacles, and even the branches of the tree itself! They all dug deep into Kelly's abdomen, pulling it wider so they could crawl inside. I saw her ribs, exposed and being tugged by those hideous branches. I turned back around to flee. During that split second of turning my head, I caught a glimpse of Kelly's eyes beginning to open.
She was still awake.
But I abandoned her.
I ran deeper into the woods. It was much longer than I had remembered. Or was I really moving that slow? No, I couldn't be. The wind was whistling through the eye-holes of my mask, sounding hollow and echoed in my head. I felt like I was caught in a wind tunnel. Leaves scattered around under my feet and thorny bushes clawed at me, trying to drag me back and give me to Him. I didn't look back this time. I just kept running. I had no idea where, I just ran. I should've ran back along the road, and back to the suburbs, back to my house. But I couldn't think straight. Not when my very life was in peril.
I finally found shelter, deep within a clearing, in the form of an old concrete bunker. I had heard that this island was home to an old WW2 coastal base, with bunkers stationed along the cliff. But what was one doing here in the middle of the woods?
I didn't question it then. I knew it was a safe haven for me. Wasting no time I dove into the empty doorway of that concrete hut.
Apparently someone was there before me. It was evident by the old broken chairs, cans of food and bottles of beer. There was even a rusty old bed frame in the corner, topped with a dirty mattress. I barricaded the doorway with the bed, lifting it length-ways with all the strength I could muster in my shaken demeanour, and pushed it up against the open entrance.
It wasn't much, but I had to be safe. I had to. I leaned up against it, expecting the creature to barge his way in and drag me off into the woods to devour me.
But nothing happened.
I waited for a good amount of time, possibly an hour or so, before I looked out of the window.
It was only a few feet away, staring right back at me.
It had no eyes, but I knew it was looking straight at me.
I sunk back down to the floor. What did He want with me?
Why had I angered Him so?
I looked at the shattered piece of glass on the floor. The bleach-white walls were enough to show some sort of faint reflection in the glass.
I saw my face.
I saw my mask.
I pulled it off and hurled it against the wall. It bounced off and landed back by my feet, as I sat there against the wall absolutely helpless, staring back at myself in the glass.
I looked closer at my face.
At my eyes.
They were bleeding.
My eyes. My eyes were not just bleeding, they weren't there at all!
Replaced by empty voids. Black, stinging tar poured and oozed from my now empty eye sockets.
This was impossible. I had no eyes, yet...I could still see.
How did I lose them? How did I lose my eyes?
He took them from me.
He took my eyes.
He took my eyes.
I scrambled around the floor. Maybe they just fell out. I could still find them.
I found more glass, but no eyes.
I found dirt and filth, but no eyes.
I cut my hand...and tar leaked out from the wound instead of blood.
I cut deeper. Still black blood.
I grabbed a shard of glass, and drove it across my chest. I laughed. I couldn't feel a thing. I could only feel my tension lift away along with my flesh. A burden had been lifted from me, from my chest.
I cut my leg, same thing. No feeling of pain, but my tight skin snapped and peeled, now a wilting grey colour, pale and coarse like sandpaper. Black ooze squirted every which way from my body, decorating the small prison of mine. I grew jovial at the thought. I could feel nothing. I had achieved greatness, finally. My body had gone further than anything physically possible. I was a superhuman. All it cost were my fucking eyes!
My joy turned to anger. I slashed at the blood, scribbling insults, curses and warnings to that thing outside, if He were ever to come in here. I told Him I have no eyes. I hoped He would listen. I hoped He would give them back.
Days passed, going on and on and on, and I was still stuck in that wretched hovel. No food, no water. I had to live off of my own flesh. The chuck of meat I peeled away from my chest had to serve as food. But it wasn't enough.
I didn't care for the taste and rancid texture of my blood, to me at that moment it could've been like wine. Lovely malt wine. There was too much of it. There wasn't enough.
There was no more room on the wall for any colourful language. No more pictures.
I then had a thought.
It was the first time I actually had a coherent thought ever since I locked myself away in that wretched place, to be besieged by that monster.
How long have I actually been in here?
It felt like months to me.
It had to be months.
But it was always dark.
I had no way to tell the time. I had no grasp of any sort of time in that place. What felt like months could have been days. Or even hours. Or seconds!
I thought back to when I first began to run.
I ran for a solid minute, and when I turned back, I was only a few feet away from the tree.
The tree where Kelly had been consumed by that filthy monster.
I then looked at myself. I looked at my blood-stained hands, my feet, my legs.
The blood was still black, not red. I hadn't gone insane. Something was definitely wrong.
I dug my fingers straight back into my empty and sticky eye sockets.
Yes, I wasn't insane! My eyes were still gone, but I could still see!
But no, I couldn't go out like this. I couldn't face the world like an eyeless freak. The state of me!
I grabbed the mask which would then, now and forever serve as my identity.
Then I pulled away the bed, stepped outside, and faced Him.
He simply stood there, like a towering gaunt tree hanging over me, tentacle-like branches still reaching out, and His bald, empty face still shone like the full moon. He hadn't changed, but I had.
I yelled and cursed at Him, but I also congratulated Him. I thought He had played a fair game, I wouldn't lie about that. But what wasn't fair is that He still hadn't given back my eyes!
I was about to ask Him what He wanted, but I stopped.
I knew what He wanted. It was obvious. He didn't have to say a thing to me.
I knew exactly what He wanted.
I looked at my own body, ignoring the blood and focused on the flesh.
He wanted to change people for the better. He wanted to create the best in humanity.
He was just like me.
He never said a word during our discussion, but I sensed He was in agreement with me. The terms were simple; if He was to spare my life and also return my eyes, I would provide Him with willing subjects. No mess, no fuss, I'd just simply point Him in the right direction where he could find his own willing subjects. I'd also provide Him with steady sustenance. I had heard all the tales of this creature before, eating the flesh and drinking the blood of unfortunate tramps and hitchhikers. Soon the tourist season would be over, and people would be hard to come by. I can help with that too.
It was a sure burden on my part, but if it would mean that I could live another day, so be it.
I have regretted my decision ever since then.
I should have just let Him kill me right then and there.
I would have preferred death, over being constantly watched, being made sure I was doing the right thing, and not stepping out of line.
Watching me with no eyes.
And He has still not returned mine.
After He left me alone once again, I could still feel His presence. But I had to ignore it. This was my chance. The chance I always wanted. The chance to start a new life. Now there was only one person I wanted to share that new life with.
I trekked down those dark woods, trying to retrace my steps. I called out to Kelly, but no answer came.
Had He gotten to her as well? Was she His latest victim to his hellacious appetite? No, I was certain that by now she was just like me. She had been transformed for the better. She was now a perfect human like myself.
I was wrong. So wrong.
I came to the oak tree. Everything looked normal now, but nothing felt normal. I knew this was all a hallucination, an illusion of the mind. I looked around for Kelly, but she was nowhere to be seen. Only her old boots lay by the side of the tree. Was she still wearing those heels I gave her? I chuckled at the thought of poor Kelly trying to flee into the woods wearing heels.
But what my eyeless sight beheld next.....I certainly wasn't laughing then.
At first I heard it.
I thought it was the trees.
I thought it was Him again.
But it wasn't.
Strange chirping and clicking sounds, followed by a grotesque guttural groan.
For some reason, I thought it was coming from the oak tree itself.
But it came from behind it.
Kelly?
Yes.
No.
It wasn't her.
It emerged from the darkness, staggering and lurching.
Its body was disgustingly swollen and pulsating, covered in thick patches of moss and hair. Its skin hung in fleshy lumpy sacs. It was grey and splotchy, moulding browns and greens covered the creature's crevasses like oozing scabs and sores.
This gnarled, malformed body was just as wide and tall as the fat little oak tree that it had emerged from. Its arms were horrifically disproportionate, the fingers and hands replaced by a mass ghastly black hairy tendrils, clumped together and slumped lifelessly on the ground, being dragged as the creature twitched and convulsed as it lumbered towards me.
There wasn't a face, or even a head. Just a large moist rupture within the creature's chest, filled with sharp, spiny....what I could only assume are either teeth or ribs. What could either be saliva or stomach acid flowed freely from the creature's gaping maw.
Where its head should have been, now had a large tuft of black fur in its place, which ran like a mane from atop its gargantuan shoulders and neck stump, and down to the upper lip of that monstrous mouth.
The creature's legs were the only things I would consider normal, if it wasn't for the fact they were much smaller compared to the rest of the creature, though they served as perfectly normal-sized human legs. They were even still fitted with jeans, and on the creature's stumbling feet, it wore a pair of black high heels.
Kelly.
It screamed at me. I had no idea how it could even see me with no eyes. There was none that I could see. It swung its massive, branch-like arm at me, before I had time to turn and run. Its multitude of black tendril-fingers wrapped around my legs. I screamed her name in hopeless anguish, as that deformed fungal-ridden abomination dragged me into the night.
8) Where I am now[]
I didn't die, of course. I wasn't devoured and my bones left strewn about the forest floor.
Though to be honest, I don't even know how I survived. My memory had become very sketchy at that point. All I remembered was hearing that shrill ringing noise again, and the next thing I knew, the beast was lumbering off into the darkness without me.
I wasn't going to go about this alone. Kelly was coming with me.
I went to go and fetch her, drag her back with me before she could cause more damage.
Then I realised something.
Where were we? Where do we even go?
I noticed we weren't even in the same woods anymore. The trees were much taller and straighter. They weren't the typical gnarled and twisted branches from my island. They were fresh pines.
How long had I been unconscious?
It was even beginning to approach dawn. I couldn't let anyone see me like this, nor Kelly.
Little did I know then that fate had smiled upon me. Only a short walk away and I found it. My new haven, my home, my workplace, my office. The old warehouse, just simply left to rot away in the clearing. The path leading into any sort of civilisation from this place had eroded away long ago. I had this place all to myself.
Well, almost.
It came with everything I needed; large open spaces, giant metal pipes along the ceiling, a boiler that could be fixed back into working condition, and even a basement!
Hell, there were even a few desks and wooden shelves lying about. A little old and dusty, but nothing a little paint and varnish couldn't fix.
Now all I needed was equipment, and subjects.
I still had my mask, and all my belongings in the satchel, even my black hooded outfit, was simply waiting for me inside the warehouse.
I suppose I should keep to my end of the bargain.
I was grateful that at least all my stuff was here, ready for me.
So I went to work.
Like I said before, I was slick and swift as a teenager, and in this new body, I saw doubly so.
I was a thief in the night. I didn't kill. There was no point.
I could kill, but it would have to be necessary, it would have to have a purpose. There was no purpose in senseless violence. Only experimentation (and of course, self defence when needed).
A few items would do to get me started. I started with the younger ones. Teenagers. They were fresh, healthy. I only took what I needed. A kidney would suffice. Before long I was stocked with rows upon rows of carefully preserved kidneys.
But why kidneys, you ask? Well how else am I to earn a decent income? I need to pay for my equipment, I need to finance my experiments.
As much as I did not wish to dabble in such affairs myself, I had no choice until I was ready to publicly face the world once more, and deliver my documentations on all the ground-breaking revelations I had made. But first, I need money.
And what better low-key service to provide to that the black market. They'll pay a pretty penny for "organ donors". I figured that kidneys would lose their value soon enough, but apparently they were still in high demand. Though other organs seemed to be worth more.
I then began to take lungs. Only one of them from each person. You can survive with just one lung, right? Same as a kidney? Ah well, I'd make it up to them one day.
Years passed, and I managed to gain a bit of a reputation, much to my amusement. I was yet to be recognised for the right reasons, but it was still fascinating to see my new name in the newspapers; "Eyeless-Jack", that called me.
The night I was in the woods with Kelly, I had imagined what my new name would be once I began my new life.
Well, I guess this would be a decent enough name.
I had become an urban legend, like those of that old haunted woods back home.
Jack is quite a common name, associated with the fiendish entities that lurked in the darkness of night. Spring-heeled Jack, Jack the Ripper, Red Jack, Jack o'Lantern.
Yes...I quite liked the sound of that name. Eyeless-Jack.
A tragic name, but a name of a legend nonetheless.
I did a lot of travelling, and a lot of work had been done, and soon after more connections had been made, my surgery was now open for business. I came into contact with a rather friendly group (as friendly as armed thugs could be) saying they were in the human trafficking business. I was appalled at such a service, but then again I did need subjects. I would make sure their lives would go to a good cause. We made a deal that once a month they'd supply me with a subject, if in return I'd deliver onto them a surplus of organs. It was a rough period of working overtime, but it was worth it. They even offered prostitutes for an extra payment, but I couldn't defile my own subjects. Though the offer was tempting, I was also a married man.
Though...one time, I couldn't help but think that one such young woman they offered looked a lot like Jenny.
No, I wouldn't betray Kelly. But I decided to keep her, for my own personal studies.
It's nice to have other people as company, though all she did was scream at me. But I soon silenced her, and I do declare it was one of my most successful experiments. I shan't spoil it. It's a secret!
I had so many plans, so many ideas I wanted to try out.
But soon it became unbearable. The stress was killing me.
I needed more time. No, I needed more subjects.
I couldn't waste enough months doing nothing but petty harvesting.
I took matters into my own hands.
I travelled, I met with people. I took them, and brought them back.
I had to get subjects manually, and seize any opportunity I could to do so.
It was for the best.
They would understand.
Kelly would understand.
She's with me, but I had to keep her away. The basement is her home now. I make sure to feed her everyday. Whatever I don't keep as specimens or sell off to the black market, I give to her.
By now my surgery is booming with massive ideas and a rather nice income. I was doing well for myself on the outside; my ideal workplace, a loving wife, my dream career, and a bright future ahead of me.
But on the inside, I was afraid.
Terrified for my life.
He's still out there, watching me.
I never see Him, but I know He always sees me, making sure I never step out of line again.
I promised I wouldn't, but promises are not enough.
Every month or so, I do give Him some offerings, hoping it will appease Him at a steady pace. He seems to prefer children, though anyone will do, apparently. The traffickers sometimes skimp out on me and deliver a bag of old rotting bones instead of a nice healthy subject, but He seems to like them as much as the children.
He seems pleased enough, but I still worry. I fear for my well-being.
If He did that to Kelly, what else was he capable of?
And that's it. Nothing more. Now is the end of my tale. Who I was, where I am now, and what I will accomplish in the future. I am always watched, but I am also always hopeful.
Really, there may be nothing there at all. It could just be a draft, or a cricket.
One noise is for sure, though. The constant fucking banging downstairs. Followed by that unholy moaning sound.
She's doing it now as I write this.
No, it's louder this time.
Kelly's hungry again.
Neither her nor Him will give me a fucking moment's peace!