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SatinNLace
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A Change of Fate
A writing exercise posted by kev inspired me to write this story.
A Change of Fate
The alarm clock went off at 6 am, blasting a tune by the Blue Oyster Cult ‘Don’t Fear The Reaper’. John clumsily searched for the off button knocking over his half empty glass of milk from last night. “This is not going to be a good day”, he mumbled into his pillow. After his shower he made himself a cup of coffee. He pretty much lived on coffee, but with his hectic schedule he had no choice really. John relaxed at the kitchen table, sipping the hot coffee that seemed to taste just perfect today. Sometimes coffee just did not turn out right, but today it was a perfect cup. John smiled and thought that maybe today was going to be a good day after all. He searched for the horoscope section to read his daily ‘scope. He never put any faith in horoscopes or astrology, but he did find them amusing at times. Today it read;
“Scorpio
You are on the front lines of this battle. Like it or not, the outcome is up to you.”
John looked at his watch and tossed the paper aside. He would be late for work if he didn’t get going. “My battle this morning will be trying to get to work on time during rush hour traffic”, he said with a laugh as he grabbed his brief case and headed out the door. John decided to take the scenic route to work. It was a little out of the way, but he would be able to get to work faster than taking the interstate. He turned on the radio to hear ‘The Stones’ singing “Time Is On My Side”. John laughed at the irony in that. He turned up the volume and sang along as he drove, not noticing that the sky was growing very dark.
Far away in the darkness of his mind, John could hear the sound of static. The sound was getting louder. John opened his eyes feeling dazed and confused. He seemed to have fallen asleep, but how could he still been driving? John looked around in dismay at what he saw around him: nothing. There was complete blackness everywhere. He could not even see the road in front of him. He fumbled for the headlight switch and turned it on. The headlights gave no clues to his whereabouts, so he started to slow down to stop.
“It would not be wise to stop here my friend” said a voice from the back seat. John nearly lost control of the car in his shock of hearing someone from the back seat. He was frozen with fear, but he kept driving. Something deep inside him believed the voice. It would not be wise to stop. John’s eyes slowly made their way to the rear view mirror, but he was not sure he wanted to make eye contact with his uninvited traveler. He looked into the mirror, but saw no one. John could hear his heart beating hard and fast as sweat started to drip from his forehead.
“Calm down, John”
John jumped in surprise to see a small boy sitting up front in the passenger seat next to him. John slammed on the brakes and the car skidded to a stop. He tried to speak, but nothing was coming out of his mouth. John could not fathom what was going on. Had he lost his mind he thought or was he dreaming? John was hoping this was all just a bad dream and he had not become a mad man traveling down dark roads within his mind.
“You are not crazy, nor are you dreaming, and like I said a moment ago, you do not want to stop here” the young boy said looking over at him. John could not make out much of what the boy looked like. The only light inside the car was coming from the radio. A soft blue light barely lit up the boy’s face, but John could see his eyes. They seemed to stand out very well even in the darkness. There were no whites in his eyes; only blackness.
“What…what...the hell is going on?” John stuttered, slightly disgusted in the weakness that came from his mouth. A bright and powerful prosecutor was not supposed to talk with a stutter or sound weak. In the distance, John could hear the sounds of moaning. The moans seemed to be getting louder and closer. He looked around the outside of the car, but could see nothing except darkness all around.
“Drive away now, John.”
John ignored the boy and kept his eyes fixed at the front of the car. He could see shadows coming into the light from the headlights. No bodies, but just a crowd of shadows coming closer. The moaning was growing incredibly loud, and John started to shake. There was pounding on the windows now, and the sounds of claws scraping the glass. John started to scream! He then heard the driver side door handle being messed with. Something out there in the darkness wanted to be inside; wanted him! John pressed the automatic lock button on his door, and stepped on the gas and sped away. The moans were now screams of anger.
“You can let go of the steering wheel, John.”
John’s grip on the steering wheel was so tight that he wasn’t sure if he was capable of letting go. The boy reached over and touched John’s hand. The boy’s hand seemed to burn John’s causing him to release his grip on the steering wheel. The pain from the burn told John that odds are he was not dreaming, but possibly insane. He was lost in his own little world with a strange boy and a car that was now driving itself. What had happened? Had his mind just reached a breaking point from too much stress? John knew his life had been a difficult one growing up, but his adult years seemed ok, and he loved his career. John looked over at the boy who was watching him with amusement.
“What the hell is going on?” John demanded to know. He was also pleased to hear more strength in his voice.
“You do not remember me, do you? Well I’m not surprised, actually. A lot of my chosen children block me from their minds. We met a long time ago, John. It was the summer of 1985, and if I recall correctly, you had just turned seven years old.”
The car started going in reverse and John’s vision blurred. He closed his eyes and opened them only to find he was sitting on a small boat in the middle of a lake.
John’s eyes were wide. He knew where he was. He was in the small town where he grew up. He was home.
Once again a voice came from behind him, but this voice brought no fear to John, only longing.
“Son, pass me the bucket of worms, please.”
John turned around and saw his father. The morning sun shone down on his father’s head, making him seem strong and immortal.
“But he wasn’t immortal was he, John?” spoke a small voice somewhere hidden in his mind.
This brought tears to his eyes
“Dad, let’s go back. I don’t feel like fishing today.” John said in his young voice.
His father looked up at him, confused.
“What’s wrong, John? You’ve been looking forward to this fishing trip all week.”
John was too choked up to speak. He threw himself into his father’s lap and wrapped his arms around his father, hugging him tightly. He had always felt so safe in his father’s arms. For a brief moment John thought his whole life had been a dream, and that what had happened this day, years previous, was only a bad part of this dream. A sudden knock from beneath the boat proved his thinking wrong. John and his father fell into the lake. The water was cold and murky. John swam up to the top and quickly swam over to the boat. Clinging tightly to the side of the boat, John looked around frantically for his father. He was no where in sight. He coughed up the lake water and screamed for help, but the lake was deserted today. John felt a hand grab hold of his ankle, and he winced in pain from what felt like a burn, but felt relief that his father had found him. The grip on his ankle tightened and John was pulled down into the water. He moved his hands to his ankle trying to find his father’s hand and try and help his father. As John’s hand slid down his leg to his ankle, a chill ran up his spine and he froze. Something felt wrong here, very wrong. The hand released his ankle and grabbed his wrist and with a jerk; John was being pulled deeper into the darkness. John pulled back with all of his strength and was able to break away from the burning grip of the unknown hand. He swam desperately to the surface. The darkness was now showing light from the morning sun. As he was about to break through to the surface, he felt arms around him. John turned around to face his attacker. It was his father, but his eyes were different. They were no longer a bright blue, but black. Completely black! John’s instincts told him that this was not his father. It could not be. John thrashed violently to get away. He had to get to the surface, and he could not hold his breath for much longer! John gave a swift kick to his attacker’s stomach, sending him away deep into the darkness. John reached the surface, gasping for air. He managed to grab hold of the boat and pulled himself inside. John collapsed and lay there, crying and in shock. The bright morning sun started to dim as John passed out.
“That was you that day.” John said emotionless while looking over at the boy in the car, recognizing for the first time, that the boy was a splitting image of himself as a boy with the exception of his eyes. The boy just smiled a wicked grin.
“Who or what are you and what do you want?” demanded John. The car was still driving through the darkness that now reminded John of the lake. He started having trouble breathing, as if the darkness was the water from the lake putting pressure on him.
“My name is Messor Animus, which means Reaper of the Spirit, and what I want is your soul, John. In fact, I need it. You should have been mine that day in the lake, but your strength surprised me.”
“What do you need my soul for?”
“For existence; I live off the souls of others. Each soul I take gives me more energy, and you, John, are the only one who has ever escaped me, and I’ve been around for a long time, a very long time. Luckily, I’ve had good company.”
There was a gurgling sound coming from the back seat. John turned is head around and saw his father sitting behind him. His father’s body was blue and his eyes were filled with sorrow as he opened his mouth to speak to John, but only water flowed from his mouth. John screamed in horror of what had become of his father. His body had never been found in the lake. John now knew why. John was enraged and went to attack the evil that sat beside him, but his chest felt a crushing blow that forced the breath and fury out of him. As he lay hunched over in the front seat, struggling for air, he could hear it laughing. John started crying like he had that day in the boat.
“Sit up, John.” it demanded, but no longer in the voice of a boy. John looked up and saw it in its true form. Its skin was pale in color and covered in scales, the face was very long and narrow. Its mouth was small, but John could see a glimpse of razor sharp teeth within. John cowered up against the driver’s side door, staring in shock into its black, evil eyes.
“This trip down memory lane must come to an end, John. It is time to take care of business, as your kind put it.”
The car was now sinking in water. John started to panic as water started leaking in.
“I have a soft spot for you, John; although why, I do not know. Perhaps because you are the only one who has escaped me. Anyway, I will give you three chances to save your soul, by asking you three riddles. If you get just one of the riddles right, I will let you go.”
John felt helpless and did not even want to fight for his soul. Too much confusion and painful emotions had been brought back, but he looked over at his father and could see in his father’s eyes that he wanted John to fight and not suffer his own fate.
“Are you ready, John? You do not want to waste too much time thinking about this.”
John felt the water rising to the edge of the seat. He became alert and nodded his head for the game to begin.
“I run, though I have no legs to be seen. I possess no heat, yet I do have mist. I have no voice to let words out, but from far away you can still hear me shout. What am I?”
“A train?” John asked excitedly.
“I’m sorry, John, but the answer is a waterfall. I claim the victory of this first stage.”
“Wait! I only get one guess?”
“Yes, that does make it a little more intense now doesn’t it, John?”
Messor started to laugh and turned to look at John’s father.
“There’s a very good chance your boy could be keeping us both company!”
The water had reached John’s waist and he looked at his father with despair in his eyes. His father looked back at him and nodded his head like he used to when John needed encouragement to try something or to be strong.
“Next riddle.” John said feeling stronger.
“What’s your hurry?” Messor asked with a sn*gger as the water reached John’s chest.
“Next Riddle!” John shouted. Messor seemed displeased in the demanding tone with which John spoke to him.
“Drapes the hills all in white, swallows not but hard it bites.”
John had heard this one before, but he could not remember the answer. Messor tapped his long, dirty nails on the dashboard.
John banged his head in anger against the window in frustration, the answer escaping him.
“Oh come on, John. This is an easy one.”
“Snow?”
John’s father let out a watery groan from the back seat and John lowered his head. John knew it was the wrong answer.
Messor rubbed his hands together in excitement. The eluded soul that has haunted him for years was now right in his clutches.
“Last chance my friend and think fast, for the water is filling up this car very fast.”
“Thirty white horses on a red hill,
First they champ,
Then they stamp,
Then they stand still.”
John raised his head up. He knew the answer to this one! It was a riddle from the book ‘The Hobbit.’ A book his father had read to him.
“Teeth!”
Messor looked shocked and let out an evil hiss. His dirty nails dug deep into the dashboard with anger. John looked over at his father and warm tears flooded his eyes. He could not leave his father with this creature. His father had been a good man and a loving Dad. John could not leave him.
“I’ll make a deal with you, Messor.”
Messor looked over at John, puzzled.
“I’ll ask one riddle, and if you guess it wrong, you have to release me and the soul of my father. If you guess right, I’ll surrender my soul to you.”
John’s father shook his head in protest. Messor’s face brightened with a big grin.
“I’m a master of riddles my friend and I accept your challenge!”
John’s father began to sob.
John had little time to think with the water reaching his neck. If Messor was a master of riddles he would not be stumped easily. John thought quickly about the riddle he had guessed right. Messor had known that one because it was a traditional one, but a few of the riddles in ‘The Hobbit’ had been written by J. R. R. Tolkien himself. There was a chance that Messor would not know them.
“This thing all things devours:
Birds, beasts, trees, flowers;
Gnaws iron, bites steel;
Grinds hard stones to meal;
Slays kings, ruins towns,
And beats high mountains down.”
Messor looked at John with surprise, for he had not heard this riddle before. He tried to think it through as the water rose up to their faces. John was struggling to keep his mouth and nose above the water.
“Weather?” Messor guessed.
“Time!” John yelled.
Messor let out a high pitch scream that hurt John’s ears. The water had risen to the roof and John took one last deep breath, closed his eyes and went under. He opened his eyes to find himself alone in the car. His father and Messor were gone. He struggled to open the door, but it would not open so he tried kicking the window, but nothing. John was fighting his natural instinct to breathe and then tried the passenger door, only to be left with the same disappointment. He could feel himself growing faint. “Was this it?” He asked himself. Had Messor tricked him and was he doomed to the fate that he had eluded when he was seven? Everything went dark and John closed his eyes.
Wherever John was, it was dark and cold. He could feel pressure on his chest and in the distance was a resounding voice, counting slowly. John started to see light and the voice seemed louder and closer.
“3, 4, 5”
With each count John Felt pressure on his chest.
“6, 7, 8”
John’s eyes shot open fast and he started coughing up water.
“Are you alright?” asked a dark haired man leaning over John.
John tried to speak, but could not. He stared at the bright blue sky above him. A sight he thought he would never see again.
John was in the hospital for a good three days before being released home. He had learned that his car had gone off the road into a nearby lake. Luckily a truck driver, named Paul, had seen it happen. He was the dark haired man John saw when he came to. Paul had swam out to where John’s car sunk and was able to open the passenger side door and pull John out and start CPR. John could have sworn that he tried to open that door as well, but all that mattered now was that he was alive. Paul had invited John over for dinner as soon as he was feeling better. John was amazed at Paul’s courage and generosity, and he would probably be grateful to Paul for the rest of his life.
Everything with Messor seemed like a dream. The Police figured John had just fallen asleep at the wheel. Which could be a very good possibility, but John could not shake the reality of it all. It was a phone call from the Sheriff of the town where John had grown up that made him even more certain that his encounter with Messor was real. Apparently a man’s body had been found in the lake where John’s father had drowned. 20 years earlier. After DNA analysis, it was concluded that the body was that of William Curby, John’s father. The perfectly preserved body baffled the medical examiner. There was no way a body could have been that well preserved after 20 years, but John was not shocked by this at all.
Standing over his father’s grave, John was grateful that his father was able to be given the proper burial he deserved, and that he was no longer lost in the dark with his tormentor, Messor. Next to his father’s grave, was his mother’s, Melinda Curby. John had wished she could have lived to see this day, but sadly she died from lung cancer a year ago. She started smoking shortly after his father had died.
“You two can be together now.” John said, trying to hold back his tears, but they came anyway. John knelt down over the grave, placed his hand on the fresh soil of his father’s grave, and said goodbye.
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Mar/1/2005, 5:47 am
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Peter Pen
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Re: A Change of Fate
that was one of the best little reads i have had in a while. you are good at showing emotion in writing satinNnlace.
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Mar/2/2005, 3:32 pm
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Kev2012
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Re: A Change of Fate
Well it is funny really, when I write a short story I don’t plan at all, it is all spontaneous, but my current full length novel has two folders of information that won’t even make it into the book! About 6 generations of family history for each character, key moments of history that are only mentioned briefly in the book, weapons, races of beings, maps, all sorts of stuff that I have accumulated over time…then when I sit down are write sometimes I need to constantly check that I’m not contradicting myself, and little things like keeping characters and plots streamlined become vital the longer the story gets i suppose!
Although i will give myself some credit, nearly all the main details of my book are stored in my head so i can just sit and write without having to stop start too often.
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Mar/6/2005, 2:06 am
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