Vincent

I have now completed the second 10 week Creative Writing Course and am due to start my third (and final) 10 week course on the 13th April 2015 and that will be it for this year.  Our final task was to produce a genre specific piece of work (anonymously) and us as a class will read and mark them all.  A task within a task!  I got to read some amazing stories and also managed to secure third place.  A fantastic end to stage 2 of my Creative Writing.  

VINCENT

Short Story Fiction:

Genre: Psychological Horror: A sub-genre of literary horror which relies on the characters' fears and emotional instability to build tension and unsettle through in-depth use of psychology.

I hurried along the beaten path, panting heavily.  My chest ached and my throat was dry.  “Come on James, can’t you go any faster?” Vincent chastised.  I pulled my inhaler out of my pocket and drew on it long and hard.  “Where are we going Vincent?” I gasped.  

“Put that thing away James, you don’t need it.  I told you before, I will look after you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”  Vincent stopped and together we sat down on a cluster of earthy bedrock and my breath began to steady.  

It was an early autumn morning and a wintry chill hung in the air. Autumn leaves from the ancient trees lay discarded on the forest floor. The dry ones crunching underfoot, whilst the dew damp papery remains, burrowed deep into the soft soil. The autumn sun rose hurried as if trying to make the shorter days appear longer, blossoming into the pale sky with a deep mellow glow, slivered shards of warmth piercing through the voluminous trees. As the morning developed the sound of young birds filled the air chirping, twittering and warbling incessantly.

“Come on James, let's go.” Ahead the forest trees began to thin, a clearing perhaps or a glade? As we drew closer we could see that it was neither. The firm ground gave way to a swamp of tall reeds, the dark soil submersed in water. The autumn sunlight fell directly onto a felled tree trunk, imitating a bridge. The drop wasn’t unsafe, just a sloppy marshy landing. With one cautious boot I tested the bark. It was damp with a smattering of moss. It wasn’t too slippery, but certainly not secure. I took a deep breath and set off.  Eyes trained on my feet and the next yard of tree, arms raised, a balancing tightrope walker. Steady. Steady. One footfall at a time until I was safely over to the other side.

Beyond the bank we hear the sound of laughter and we crouch and watch the family.  I recognise Daisy immediately.  Apart from Vincent, she is the only other student at school that has ever remained kindly towards me. I could see her tresses of silky blonde hair fitted neatly into a loose ponytail. I imagine her deep-set chocolate brown eyes looking at me. Her pixie-like nose turned up indignant against the bullies that taunted me on a daily basis.  

I was a sickly only child, a burden, or so my mother told me. Much smaller than average and coupled with my chronic asthma fuelled the belligerent bullies. I was pitiful and would amount to nothing, my father declared before slamming the door out of my life.

“Why are you looking at her like that for James? Don’t be taken in by her, she doesn’t give two shits about you, not like me, she is just as bad as the rest of them.  Well, worse in fact as she is nice to your face and then laughs about you behind your back.  I have heard her James, she is a lying, sneaky, deceitful BITCH!” Vincent’s voice was cold and cutting and as his unabashed truths punctured my beliefs, tears collected.  “Oh for god sake James, don’t start blubbering, come on let’s teach that whore a lesson”.

As we watched Daisy’s parents go back to unload the car, Vincent stood and called out to her “Hey Daisy, over here.” She turned towards us and her radiant smile lit up her beautiful face, she smiled gloriously and skipped towards us.  “What are you doing here” she asked and I noticed her dimples, tiny indentations in her creamy complexion.  I was nervous and started to fidget, as I opened my stuttering mouth to respond Vincent immediately interrupted “Daisy come and have a look over here. A whole family of tiny rabbits, you are not going to believe it, they’re delightful Daisy and soooooo cute”.  Before I knew it we were all running and laughing through the forest, Daisy’s laughter an intoxicating melodious breeze.  All of the time wondering where on earth we had seen those rabbits.

We reached a clearing, slowed down and stopped.  “Oh James, where are those rabbits” Daisy said twirling around gleefully, some of her golden curls escaping from her ponytail.  “Over here Daisy” Vincent said happily and together we peered behind a large imposing boulder. Vincent suddenly grabbed Daisy’s hair and hurled her head down, her skull making a sickening thud against the cold grey stone. Again and again he pounded until all that was left of Daisy’s perfect face was a bloodied mass of sticky pulp.  “What have you done Vincent, what have you done?” 

I fell to my knees keening like a wounded animal. “I told you James I was going to teach her a lesson” he said calmly, too calm.

“But you’ve killed her Vincent, why have you killed her?” Shock and grief washed over me as I collapsed on her, holding her, inhaling her.

“James. James.  We have to go, we need to get home and clean up.  I did this for you, you’re all that matters and she was evil James, you didn’t know it but she was and I will not allow anybody to hurt you James, no one will ever take you away from me, do you understand?” Vincent’s commanding voice drowned out my moans and I suddenly realised he was afraid of losing me.  I never thought Vincent would be afraid of anything, he was too brave and too strong, the complete opposite of me, but with clarity I saw him, Vincent needed me more than I needed him and for the first time in my miserable life I felt what it was like to be wanted.

We hid the body behind the boulder and covered it up with as much forestry as we could find and set off home.  “James, it’s just you and me now, nobody else, promise me that you won’t tell anybody about today?” We retraced our steps through the forest, the snapping twigs suddenly sounding like gunshots.  “Vincent you’re my best friend, you can trust me” but no matter how I tried the image of Daisy’s beaten and crushed face, the putrid smell of her congealed flesh, haunted me every step of the way.  As I quietly let myself in, mother still sleeping off last night’s litre, I surreptitiously slipped to my room.  As I laid down on my bed I began to weep. The tears fell freely, for Daisy, for Vincent, for me.

“James, can you hear me James?” I was disoriented and sluggish like I had awoken from an eternal sleep. “Wh..wh..what happened” I stuttered.  Dr Lavelle sat, with her legs crossed, on the chair opposite.  “What did you do to me? I feel funny.”

“It’s called repressed memory therapy James, part of your treatment, it helps us understand what you did” her voice was low and sincere.

“B..b..but I didn’t do anything Miss, I don’t understand.”  Suddenly my chest became tight, my breathing rapid.  I fell to the floor coughing, gasping and Dr Lavelle left the room returning merely minutes later with my medication. She held the inhaler to my mouth, whilst holding my head protectively. I illiberally breathed in the powdery substance feeling it settle on my lungs. “That’s it James, deep breaths”.

Dr Lavelle helped me back into my chair “James we need to talk about what you did to Daisy, I need to understand what made you hurt that little girl.” I thought of the promise I made to Vincent but it didn’t seem to matter anymore.

“It wasn’t me Miss, it was Vincent who killed Daisy. I was there but I didn’t touch her I swear” I began to cry and Dr Lavelle took my hand in hers.  “James, Vincent isn’t real, he is just a figment of your imagination.  Somebody your mind created to adapt to your terrible upbringing and tumultuous childhood.  It’s called multiple personality disorder, but we can make you better James, we can help you.  But you need to understand that Vincent does not exist.”

I looked into Dr Lavelle’s kind brown eyes, so similar to Daisy, and as my hand closed around the letter opener I had covertly taken from her desk, I leant forward.

“No Dr Lavelle, it’s you who doesn’t understand, Vincent is real, very real.  It’s James who doesn’t exist.

The End.

First Cut is the Deepest

Aaron stared out of the window, lost for a moment.  The sky never failed to enrapture him, filled with mystery and endless amounts of space, another world. The sky was ever-changing, it’s various colours of cobalt blue, sinister black, pearly grey, turquoise and his favourite, a fiery tangerine melting into a crimson cloak. Sometimes the clouds were bloated.  Other times they were no more than mere strands, weavings wisps dashed across the sky by some erratic artist. At night the twinkling stars dangled from the sky, the luminescent white moon acting as puppeteer.

As far back as Aaron can remember he sought solace in the sky.  Growing up under the regimented dictatorship of his father, a military man, he would escape, climb out of the skylight in his attic bedroom and lay on the cool grey tiles fascinated by the enigmatic magnitude above him. One hot summer evening his father had found him out there and in a disciplined rage hurled Aaron off the roof.  He was 8 years old.  His leg was broken in two places and he never walked without a limp again.  Aaron never stopped going out there and his father never entered his room again.

Aaron’s father died when he was 12 years old.  Aaron envied his father’s escape and repeatedly told his mother that he wished it had been him.  His mother interpreted this as Aaron’s devastation at losing his father but it was actually Aaron’s palpable yearning for death, to disappear from the life he detested.  As a woman who had been dominated and controlled first by her father and then by her husband, Aaron’s mother found great difficulty adapting.  She immediately took Aaron out of school and her despondency only served to smother and suffocate Aaron. His father continued to burden him even in death.

Aaron escaped his paternal prison at the age of 15.  He wrote his mother a short note and just as spring blended into summer he left and never looked back.  It was at a hostel deep in the north he met Amber, another lost and damaged soul adrift in the harsh passage of life.  Aaron and Amber became inseparable over the ensuing weeks, months and years.  Their love initially embodying elements such as flawed innocence, naivety, secrecy, and then being consumed by an intense overpowering emotional bond.  Both unconditionally bound to the other.

Aaron was brought back to the present by the key in the door and the familiar tinkling tone of Rosie.  “Morning Aaron, you’re up early my love.  It is a beautiful day isn’t it?” Aaron didn’t turn he continued to gaze through the window “It is Rosie and look at that sky, it’s Amber” Rosie went to him and squeezed his hand “I do believe it is Aaron, it is an Amber sky”.  She saw the glisten of tears held in his eyes and her heart ached for him.  “I am nothing without her Rosie, we belong together. She will be lost Rosie, she will be searching for me”.  Rosie set down his breakfast and left without him turning away from the window. Aaron thought of Amber.

Aaron and Amber were exhausted of life, they needed to escape.  Together they would lie on their backs counting stars and counting down their days.  Some would call them tragic, but there was nothing tragic about their quest for amity.  The real tragedy was the misery of life they both had to endure for such a long time.  They talked of new beginnings of the vastness of space awaiting to encompass them both eternally.  Together they would cross over to the afterlife and become an intertwined spiritual energy totally disconnected from this world leaving all their hatred, anger and fears behind.

It was on a warm summer evening that Aaron and Amber finally gave up on life.  They walked to their favourite place, set down their blanket and with meticulous movement Aaron severed Amber’s pale wrists before cutting his own.  They lead together for the last time watching with an unwavering gaze, as the fiery maroon sphere of light slowly sank beneath the horizon. Threads of light lingered in the sky mingling with the rolling clouds until all that was left of the sunset was a milky mauve, which melted away as darkness took over the sky. As they both drifted away the sequin-silver stars like the glowing embers of a dying fire winked down on them, illuminating the atramentous curtain of sky, and then suddenly the clouds parted, and they found themselves looking at a lustrous, argent orb casting brilliant rays of moonlight.  

Aaron awoke in a hospital bed.  His mother asleep in a chair next to him.  Her eyes red and swollen. Aaron momentarily believed he had gone to hell and expected his father to walk through the door at any moment.  Instead a doctor in a sterile white coat entered the room together with a police officer. Aaron had failed, he had failed at life and now he had failed at death.  Amber was gone and he was still here.  They were found at dawn by a walker and as the doctor explained to him Amber had died but Aaron’s wounds were not as deep and he had been found “clinging to life.” Aaron laughed at such a ridiculous assumption.

When Aaron went to Court he told them openly and honestly that he had killed Amber.  It was done with certainty and forethought and the only justifiable sentence would be the death penalty. However a field of Doctors, Psychiatrists and his meddling mother intervened and cast doubt on his mental capacity.  They infiltrated his testimony and implanted doubt in the jury's mind.  He was found not guilty by reason of insanity.  Aaron was broken but he was not insane.

Aaron finally turned from the window and sat down to eat his breakfast.  He had now been here for two years.  The Doctors who had been so vivaciously vocal at his hearing, rarely attended anymore. His mother visited every week and every week he refused to see her, but she never gave up.  Only Rosie understood the pain he was in.  He finished his cereal with the white plastic spoon, everything in the institution was white.  As he pushed the white plastic dish away from him he heard an unfamiliar scraping noise.  He picked up the dish and there taped to the bottom was Aaron’s escape. With incredulous wariness his eyes frantically searched every inch of his 10 by 10 room.  His suspicion was replaced by euphoria, this time no mistakes, the first cut is the deepest.  Aaron closed his eyes and as his life haemorrhaged out of him he saw her.  Amber.

Hayley Mars.