Short Story: The Mark
The mark:
The human mind often believes what it wishes to believe, even if it means abandoning rational thinking; instead replacing it with fantasies imagined by the wild dreamer.
Name: Robert Green
Sunday, 12th – Friday, 17th February 2017
Location: Durham
In the dead of night, the man had awoke with a peculiar mark on the back of his right hand. The man in question was: Robert Green, he was a man of 24 with no next of kin and had not been in contact with his immediate family for quite some time, nor did he know any of his extended family. He lived alone in a small flat just outside of Durham. The flat is what you would expect from a man experiencing, what could only hoped to be described as, a prolonged existential crisis; a man with no family and his only friend being a queer little black cat that was always found wandering the row of flats yet belonged to non of his neighbors. Robert often looked after the cat and made sure it was fed.
Night 1: Robert eyes slowly crept open, the first thing that grabbed his attention was the alarm clock to his right, it was 12am, the soft red glow was lighting up the room. Robert, now wanting a drink of water, tried to move; his legs remained stuck to the bed, as if he was strapped down. Robert remained laying on his back, his eyes frantically darting around the room looking for some logical reason his body would not respond to his brain. In his fatigued state his eyes must have been playing tricks on him; it seemed as if the soft red glow was spreading across the room and becoming harsher making it harder to see. The walls of Robert's room were usually a clean white but in this nightmare damp and what looked like rust had been crawling up to the ceiling. The red became so bright Robert closed his eyes. He awoke to the strange cat lying on his bed, he was a little confused at first as to how and why the cat was there but he didn't question it too much. If anything he was just happy to have some company to comfort him. As to the strange dream that had haunted him and was now quickly fading from memory, he wrote it off as simple sleep paralysis, this was a condition that had plagued him many times in the past. By 9am the nightmare had faded into nothingness and now had no recollection of the events from the previous night at all; he went about his normal day.
Night 2: The nightmare returned, at 12am on the dot Robert's eyes opened and the whole series of events commenced again. This time; Robert felt a fait burning sensation in his right hand. The sensation started off faint but slowly got more and more unbearable. The sensation became more excruciating because Robert could not feel another his other limbs. He began screaming, but no air escaped his mouth. The pain started dying down. Just out of the corner of the room he could see a shadow as if a person was standing, perfectly still, emitting no sound. The more he tried to focus on the mysterious figure the more his eye lids grew heavy, shadows started clouding his vision. He felt like a completely black cloud was engulfing his eyes. “No, he must stay awake!” Robert was losing his grip on his own conscious. “The transfer…… Almost…..damn…..traumatic ex…… Bri….. Best…. To the dr…… Try….. Later… Subject lost.” Robert rose from his bed, with no memory of the waking nightmare that plagued him,he noticed a strange mark on the back of his right hand. The mark was an X with a S running through the middle of it and with a dot on either side of it. Robert sat mesmerized by the mark but as soon as he looked away; no matter how hard he tried he couldn't keep the image of the mark in his head, it kept slipping away. With no remnants of the dream in his mind he went about his daily life.
Night 3: Robert arrived home at 7pm. He kept thinking he should get an early night however, every time he saw his bed his froze in horror as if an unspeakable creature had been lying in it. He spent the majority of the night sitting in front of his out of date TV; it had not worked for many weeks now and even if it did he couldn't afford a TV license. The routine of sitting in front of the TV drinking vodka and coke by himself in a quiet, empty apartment was quite relaxing to him. Depressing? Of course, but he still preferred it to the horror that he could not remember. As it got dark the only source of light was the blinking time on his VHS player, if Robert ever had guests they would probably comment on his flat and how old and dirty it was. You could tell a man, in a mid life crisis, who lived alone and had no one lived there. In the later parts of the night Robert's eyes grew heavier and his sight kept fading, every time his eyes closed he would jolt himself awake. He kept thinking about why he was afraid to sleep, what had happened the nights past that made him never want to sleep again? He stopped; he noticed his right hand was pouring blood. He gasped he tried to stand so he could get something to slow his alarming loss of blood but could not find the strength. He looked up and saw numbers on his wall, " 01110000 01100001 01110100 01101001 01100101 01101110 01110100." He looked at his hand again, the blood was coming from the mark it looked like it had been freshly cut. Robert awoke in his bed, his body was covered in sewn up cuts, he just lay still, he didn't even have the energy to scream out. He didn't know what was wrong; he didn't know why he wanted to scream, he just couldn't remember.
Night 4: For three years Robert had not touched alcohol or even thought about it, he stopped on the 10th of February 2014 after a particularly traumatic visit to his parents. He had been an alcoholic since he was 16, his father was the one who inspired him to take this route in life. Robert had been in his flat all day with the curtains drawn and the lights off, he had stopped all the clocks and only moved from his armchair to get another poisonous alcoholic drink from the supply he had acquired the other day, it was enough to last a normal man for around a month although he was making his way through it at a remarkable pace. He noted that ever since he stopped sleeping the cat he often looked after and saw wondering the hall had been there less and less, he hadn't even noticed that he had not seen it in a few days. The night drew near quickly. He had not eaten anything all day; his hands were violently shaking, his eyes were red and bloodshot as if he hadn't slept for an entire week, his skin was sickly pale, his finger nails, on his left hand, were cut all the way back and close to the skin from anxious chewing. He didn't make a noise, except for the opening of a new can of beer. He opened his eyes. Five silhouettes were gathered around him. Robert didn't make a sound, not from a lack of trying but because he simply could not. He tried to focus on the faces. One silhouettes bore the face of his mother the figure adjacent had the face of his father, however that is where the similarities ended, the figures were all the same and too tall slim to be any form of human life. Robert could see the leather straps binding him to his bed, he then noticed the symbol that he could never remember glowing a bright but simultaneously dark purple. Robert closed his eyes as the silhouettes moved closer in unison.
The next day: In the morning the old woman across the hall heard a commotion but thought nothing of it. However in the morning she smelt a metallic smell along with the faint scent of rot, after knocking at the door for around five minutes and seeing other residents growing restless from her noise she got the landlord. When the landlord opened the door the sight he saw would never leave him for the rest of his life, all he did was back away and after trying to forget what exactly he saw he called the police. When the police questioned the residents they all said the same thing, "Robert Green was a quiet man who kept to himself, he never made any noise and never bothered anyone." In his room the walls looked like they had been covered in rust there was also writing on the wall, "dont sleep" had been carved into the walls, "theyre always watching theyre here" followed by "theyre coming to take me away" On the opposite wall the symbol that matched the mark on the victims right hand was also carved into the wall. The victim, Robert Green, was lying on the floor, the head police officer ordered an autopsy of the body, although most of the work had been done, the victims chest hand been cut into and opened. The coroner confirmed it was post mortem. The cause of death was not entirely clear, his eyes were wide open and bloodshot, his skin was pale white, on his left hand his nails had been torn off, the coroner suggested that Robert had carved the writing into the wall with his hand with a lack of a better instrument. Later in the autopsy it was said he probably died from alcohol poisoning and the writing was due to hallucinations caused by sleep deprivation the only part that remained a mystery was the surgical cut that left his chest cavity open, no one could hope to make an incision that perfect one themselves whilst drunk. The only oddity that should also be mentioned is: In the victim's flat was a bowl of milk and cat food, some officers decided to ask the other residents where his cat was, they all replied by saying there's never been a cat around. The case was written off as a man losing his mind with no foul play suspected.
The human mind often believes what it wishes to believe, even if it means abandoning rational thinking; instead replacing it with fantasies imagined by the wild dreamer.
Name: Robert Green
Sunday, 12th – Friday, 17th February 2017
Location: Durham
In the dead of night, the man had awoke with a peculiar mark on the back of his right hand. The man in question was: Robert Green, he was a man of 24 with no next of kin and had not been in contact with his immediate family for quite some time, nor did he know any of his extended family. He lived alone in a small flat just outside of Durham. The flat is what you would expect from a man experiencing, what could only hoped to be described as, a prolonged existential crisis; a man with no family and his only friend being a queer little black cat that was always found wandering the row of flats yet belonged to non of his neighbors. Robert often looked after the cat and made sure it was fed.
Night 1: Robert eyes slowly crept open, the first thing that grabbed his attention was the alarm clock to his right, it was 12am, the soft red glow was lighting up the room. Robert, now wanting a drink of water, tried to move; his legs remained stuck to the bed, as if he was strapped down. Robert remained laying on his back, his eyes frantically darting around the room looking for some logical reason his body would not respond to his brain. In his fatigued state his eyes must have been playing tricks on him; it seemed as if the soft red glow was spreading across the room and becoming harsher making it harder to see. The walls of Robert's room were usually a clean white but in this nightmare damp and what looked like rust had been crawling up to the ceiling. The red became so bright Robert closed his eyes. He awoke to the strange cat lying on his bed, he was a little confused at first as to how and why the cat was there but he didn't question it too much. If anything he was just happy to have some company to comfort him. As to the strange dream that had haunted him and was now quickly fading from memory, he wrote it off as simple sleep paralysis, this was a condition that had plagued him many times in the past. By 9am the nightmare had faded into nothingness and now had no recollection of the events from the previous night at all; he went about his normal day.
Night 2: The nightmare returned, at 12am on the dot Robert's eyes opened and the whole series of events commenced again. This time; Robert felt a fait burning sensation in his right hand. The sensation started off faint but slowly got more and more unbearable. The sensation became more excruciating because Robert could not feel another his other limbs. He began screaming, but no air escaped his mouth. The pain started dying down. Just out of the corner of the room he could see a shadow as if a person was standing, perfectly still, emitting no sound. The more he tried to focus on the mysterious figure the more his eye lids grew heavy, shadows started clouding his vision. He felt like a completely black cloud was engulfing his eyes. “No, he must stay awake!” Robert was losing his grip on his own conscious. “The transfer…… Almost…..damn…..traumatic ex…… Bri….. Best…. To the dr…… Try….. Later… Subject lost.” Robert rose from his bed, with no memory of the waking nightmare that plagued him,he noticed a strange mark on the back of his right hand. The mark was an X with a S running through the middle of it and with a dot on either side of it. Robert sat mesmerized by the mark but as soon as he looked away; no matter how hard he tried he couldn't keep the image of the mark in his head, it kept slipping away. With no remnants of the dream in his mind he went about his daily life.
Night 3: Robert arrived home at 7pm. He kept thinking he should get an early night however, every time he saw his bed his froze in horror as if an unspeakable creature had been lying in it. He spent the majority of the night sitting in front of his out of date TV; it had not worked for many weeks now and even if it did he couldn't afford a TV license. The routine of sitting in front of the TV drinking vodka and coke by himself in a quiet, empty apartment was quite relaxing to him. Depressing? Of course, but he still preferred it to the horror that he could not remember. As it got dark the only source of light was the blinking time on his VHS player, if Robert ever had guests they would probably comment on his flat and how old and dirty it was. You could tell a man, in a mid life crisis, who lived alone and had no one lived there. In the later parts of the night Robert's eyes grew heavier and his sight kept fading, every time his eyes closed he would jolt himself awake. He kept thinking about why he was afraid to sleep, what had happened the nights past that made him never want to sleep again? He stopped; he noticed his right hand was pouring blood. He gasped he tried to stand so he could get something to slow his alarming loss of blood but could not find the strength. He looked up and saw numbers on his wall, " 01110000 01100001 01110100 01101001 01100101 01101110 01110100." He looked at his hand again, the blood was coming from the mark it looked like it had been freshly cut. Robert awoke in his bed, his body was covered in sewn up cuts, he just lay still, he didn't even have the energy to scream out. He didn't know what was wrong; he didn't know why he wanted to scream, he just couldn't remember.
Night 4: For three years Robert had not touched alcohol or even thought about it, he stopped on the 10th of February 2014 after a particularly traumatic visit to his parents. He had been an alcoholic since he was 16, his father was the one who inspired him to take this route in life. Robert had been in his flat all day with the curtains drawn and the lights off, he had stopped all the clocks and only moved from his armchair to get another poisonous alcoholic drink from the supply he had acquired the other day, it was enough to last a normal man for around a month although he was making his way through it at a remarkable pace. He noted that ever since he stopped sleeping the cat he often looked after and saw wondering the hall had been there less and less, he hadn't even noticed that he had not seen it in a few days. The night drew near quickly. He had not eaten anything all day; his hands were violently shaking, his eyes were red and bloodshot as if he hadn't slept for an entire week, his skin was sickly pale, his finger nails, on his left hand, were cut all the way back and close to the skin from anxious chewing. He didn't make a noise, except for the opening of a new can of beer. He opened his eyes. Five silhouettes were gathered around him. Robert didn't make a sound, not from a lack of trying but because he simply could not. He tried to focus on the faces. One silhouettes bore the face of his mother the figure adjacent had the face of his father, however that is where the similarities ended, the figures were all the same and too tall slim to be any form of human life. Robert could see the leather straps binding him to his bed, he then noticed the symbol that he could never remember glowing a bright but simultaneously dark purple. Robert closed his eyes as the silhouettes moved closer in unison.
The next day: In the morning the old woman across the hall heard a commotion but thought nothing of it. However in the morning she smelt a metallic smell along with the faint scent of rot, after knocking at the door for around five minutes and seeing other residents growing restless from her noise she got the landlord. When the landlord opened the door the sight he saw would never leave him for the rest of his life, all he did was back away and after trying to forget what exactly he saw he called the police. When the police questioned the residents they all said the same thing, "Robert Green was a quiet man who kept to himself, he never made any noise and never bothered anyone." In his room the walls looked like they had been covered in rust there was also writing on the wall, "dont sleep" had been carved into the walls, "theyre always watching theyre here" followed by "theyre coming to take me away" On the opposite wall the symbol that matched the mark on the victims right hand was also carved into the wall. The victim, Robert Green, was lying on the floor, the head police officer ordered an autopsy of the body, although most of the work had been done, the victims chest hand been cut into and opened. The coroner confirmed it was post mortem. The cause of death was not entirely clear, his eyes were wide open and bloodshot, his skin was pale white, on his left hand his nails had been torn off, the coroner suggested that Robert had carved the writing into the wall with his hand with a lack of a better instrument. Later in the autopsy it was said he probably died from alcohol poisoning and the writing was due to hallucinations caused by sleep deprivation the only part that remained a mystery was the surgical cut that left his chest cavity open, no one could hope to make an incision that perfect one themselves whilst drunk. The only oddity that should also be mentioned is: In the victim's flat was a bowl of milk and cat food, some officers decided to ask the other residents where his cat was, they all replied by saying there's never been a cat around. The case was written off as a man losing his mind with no foul play suspected.
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