Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Silence ❯ Chapter 1

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Don’t look back. Don’t look back! A voice not his own screamed in his head as he ran away from the ringing alarms and chaotic din behind him.

Got to escape. Got to escape! It rang out clearly again and he quickened his pace and leaned forward pressing against the on-coming wind and willing himself not to fall. He ran down the darkened streets and passed under a dim streetlight that flicked as he passed trying o escape the wailing alarms. The further he ran it seemed the closer they got and the louder the voices screamed.

Faster! Faster! They screamed and shouted all of them at once combining into a cacophonic sympathy of madness. He stopped running and panted hard. The sweat dripped from his face and his sweated was glued to his skin but he barely noticed. He grabbed his hair and tugged at it hard. He screamed in pain and banged his fists against his head.

“Stop it! Stop! Leave me alone!”

He dropped to his knees holding his head and sobbed achingly. The rain began to pour down and there was the distant sound of thunder and the storm brewing above reminded him of the storm brewing within his mind. He had failed in trying to control the urges he at first humoured, now they had grown to control him. They had even begun to take on personalities of sorts and there seemed nothing he could do but to give in every time.

Everyone had tried to help at first but then they all grew weary one by one and came to see him as no more than basket case, a weak pathetic nuisance. So these ‘voices’ had become his only companions and he had not wanted to anger them so he fed them whenever they demanded to keep them pleased. But just like anyone else in his life no matter how much he gave they always required more and the voiced multiplied and grew stronger each day until he was not certain anymore of what he did to satisfy them. It seemed at times that he was a mere spectator watching things being done to and by his body over which he had no control. It was a dangerous carousel that he had no way of getting off and things were quickly spinning out of control.

We need to feed! Satisfy us now! The voiced shrieked and hissed.

He looked up from his muddy place on the ground to notice for the first time a house about ten feet away. He had not realized that he was in someone’s yard. He staggered to his feet feeling strangely numb and uncoordinated. He lumbered forward towards the house knowing what he sought and that it would only be the beginning of a feeding fest of his companions.

Yes, yes, yes!! They all cried in distorted unison and he drew nearer to the house.

He continued his staggering gait towards the house. Reaching the door he kicked it open with surprising strength. Somewhere in the back of his mind was aware of an emotion he had not felt for a very long time. In fact, he had almost forgotten what it was. Fear. He faltered for a moment but the driving forces urged him on though it felt more like they took complete control and he was only along for the ride.

Images came to his eyes but he was unable to interpret them. There was a couple, middle-aged, sitting staring in shock at him. But why? The man stood up, his face was grimaced and she was saying something apparently at the top of his lungs. Camarcie took a step backward unsure what was happening before he could formulate a thought, the voices screamed again.

They have been chosen. Not him, her and the other him. Feed us now! He comes!

He comes? What did that mean? What did anything mean anymore? The man was approaching. Camarcie turned toward him and his hand rose and struck the man’s chest sending him backwards at alarming velocity crashing him into the wall.

Just then a boy of about sixteen came bounding down the stairs at the far end of the room.

Hiiiiiim!! screamed the voiced so loud that he doubled over and shook his head in a vain attempt to clear it.

There’s only one way to calm them: feed them. Then I’ll have peace for a while.

Even as he rationalized this he knew it was not true but he had to believe something. Didn’t he? The woman was off the sofa and backing away from him while casting worried looks at her husband. She was shouting something. He didn’t know what or to who. He didn’t care or couldn’t care. He advanced just as steadily as before careful not to blunder too much. His limbs felt heavy and strangely not his own.

As he got closer to the woman he could sense her blood pulsing thick and sweet in her veins, the sweat seeping through her pores and running in tiny rivulets on her skin. He thrived on the fear and it fed his hunger. The chaos in his mind heightened and his head pounded ceaselessly with clamour. He forgot the boy on the stairs.

Crouching over the squirming woman he ran a surprisingly gentle finger down her cheek and traced a line down her neck. She recoiled and spat some words at him between sobs. Tears ran freely from her eyes and she kicked and pushed at the youth to no avail.

He could she her pupils dilate and her chest heave. He relished the terror. Using his blade this time, he traces a thin line on her cheek and watched in anticipation as the blood sprang forth. He licked the wound and sucked at the woman’s cheek as she recoiled.

Behind you! The boy!

The message was sent just in time. Camarcie turned and grabbed the boy by the arm and flung him effortlessly to the ground beside his mother.
“You two have been chosen. You should be honoured.”

He heard the words but was unaware of having spoken them. They resounded shrill and copious in his ears. Then he realized that it was happening again. His body was moving without his consent. It bound the father so that he faced his family cowering in the corner of the living room. It also tied the others’ hands behind their backs and bound their ankles.

The television cast a flickering light on the walls and amplified the terrified looks on the faces of the three family members. A knife materialized in the hand of the attacker and three pairs of eyes shot wide open and three bodies quivered and perspired. He walked over to the father in his separated corner unable to defend his family in anyway. Camarcie used a super adhesive tape to hold the man’s eyelids open, slapped him across the face and told him to watch.

The voices were high with anticipation and Camarcie was falling further and further into oblivion. He saw his hand clutching a long sharp blade and heard quiet pleading whimpers. His hand manoeuvred the knife, cutting away clothing. He felt sweat drip from his face and saw the drops fall on his prey. He cringed inwardly but continued anyway. How did he get to this stage? That wasn’t important now. They had to be silenced, if only for a while. That was all there was now: the voices and the need.