Daniel Beaumont sat wide-eyed in his barren study, mouth locked in to a strained grin. The pale light of the moon shone through the tall, ornate windows before him, illuminating the oak desk in the center of the room and the shivering man seated at it. The pewter candelabra resting atop the smooth wooden surface had long burned out. As Daniel gazed unblinkingly at the darkened village beyond the hills outside his window, he felt utterly numb. Mustering up a hint of willpower, Daniel commanded his right arm to move. His bony fingers reached out to grope the wisps of white hair on his chin. He watched as his hand came in to contact with his face, but he felt nothing. It was as if he was an outside observer, merely gazing from his skull, with no true contact with the physical world. Weakly, Daniel turned his head downwards to the objects on his desk. The less palatable of these items was a rusted over straight-edged razor, stained with cracked blood. Daniel remembered how it felt in its hands; its icy, bone handle, the god-awful slicing, the looks of panic, the dying pleas... but none of that mattered now. Daniel extended a shaky arm to grab the blade, but he clumsily swept it to the floor. Sighing, Daniel let his arm hang limp as he focused his attention on the second article atop his desk. The object, lying open directly before Daniel, was a marvelously bound leather book. Its pages were fine parchment, beautifully bordered in golden ink. The text with in, written ornately in carmine, told an epic tale, not like any other. Contained within the elaborate tome was a world of heroism, tragedy, and romance, spanning thousands of pages. The words almost seemed to burn with a brilliant light, boring their way in to the readers skull, searing an impression on to their very soul. Peering over his askew spectacles, Daniel recognized the page to which the manuscript was currently turned. It told a story of love, joyous and optimistic, the kind that was able to tug at even the most stoic of readers heartstrings more than any before it. It told of a princess and a gallant hero, but even still Daniel was horrified, because god help him he could hear it. The heart of the words, it was speaking to him! It was speaking to him in the voice of that innocent little girl, the one in the yellow dress by the well, no older than six and he just... god save him, like a wild animal, he just... Daniel continued staring ahead as tears formed at the corners of his eyes and ran down his face. Daniel slowly let out a rattling wheeze, as he opened his cracked lips to speak. Croaking dryly, the old man spoke. I-Ive done as you asked. It is complete, Daniel spoke to the empty room. His words were only met by a heavy silence, smothering him like a great lead blanket. Daniel felt a twinge of fear. Was he truly mad? No, he thought, not after I have come so far. Ive done as you asked, demon. The masterpiece is complete. Daniel waited again. Still, silence. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead. Why must you continue to torment me, damn you?! he spoke again, now yelling. His anguished cry bounced off the monolithic stone walls, echoing back to him like the reply of a mocking spirit. Daniel began to weep. His tears cascaded down his cracked, wrinkled face and on to the paper below. His tears began to soak the gilded parchment, causing the ink to smudge. As the old man continued to sob, this ink began to trickle in to the spine of the book, forming a pool. As he wept, Daniel felt the room grow cold. He watched as the window frosted over, and as his sobs began to come out as crystalline puffs of vapor. Abruptly, Daniel halted his crying and jumped back, as a strange figure rose from the hardback before him. Slowly, the being climbed from the desk to face Daniel. The creature now in the study stood at around seven feet, Daniel estimated, though its limbs were distended and lanky. It was completely enveloped by an inky black and was entirely featureless, appearing as though someone had cut its silhouette out of the very fabric of reality. Daniel sat shivering, now clutching himself, as he and the creature stared directly in to one another. After what felt like an eternity of silence, Daniel spoke. I have done as you asked. The book is finished. In spite of all that had transpired and all that was currently doing so, Daniel felt a rush of pride and relief. The creature, however, had no reaction for a time. Daniel once again became perturbed, until the book upon the desk began to quake once more. Transfixed, Daniel watched as the pages flipped of their own accord, to the end of the book, revealing, one more blank page. Daniels mind went in to a panic. How had he not noticed that page before? Does this mean he had to... no, it cant... Completely paralyzed out of abject terror, Daniel could do naught but watch as the creature walked gracefully to the straight-edged razor on the studys floor, which levitated in to the open palms of the creature.. Quivering, Daniels wide eyes darted to the form as it smoothly glided before him, placing slender, icy fingers across the nape of the old mans neck, and the blade of the razor to the throat. Daniel attempted to utter a final prayer, but to no avail. As he began to speak, the creature violently slashed open the old mans throat, causing blood to splatter across the walls and floor of the bare room. Daniel coughed and sputtered in vain, before going entirely limp. As quickly as it had arrived, the creature faded away, leaving the room empty of all except the desk and the corpse of Daniel Beaumont, as the straight-edged razor that it had been holding clattered to the ground. The morning sunrise broke in to the study through the high windows, bathing the study, now devoid of life, in a golden light. The marvelous tome on the desk remained open, but as it did, a peculiar change began to occur. A splatter of blood from the throat of the deceased Daniel had caused the new page to become ruined, but the dried stain began to once again turn liquid. Seeping in to the aged parchment, Daniels blood swirled and jumped about as if it were in water, leaving streaks, until two words took form on the paper, written ornately, as if in carmine ink... THE END by SuppleYetFirm ~Yukio
Posted on: Mon, 01 Dec 2014 04:46:00 +0000
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