Into The Darkness: Written In Blood Pt. 1

I ran my hands through my hair and stared in the mirror. Age was starting to catch up with me, as I noticed the gray here and there on my head, the thinning hairline, and the grey in my beard. I thought about shaving it that morning, but I was already running late. After brushing my teeth, taking my medication, and dressing, I headed out to meet my wife at the car. She put it into gear and we both headed to our day job.

"You feeling okay?" she asked, wondering why my face was so red.

"Not really, maybe allergies?" I replied.

I really did not feel well. My face felt red and hot, my body tired and sluggish. Maybe I was getting a cold. It could be those late nights I was spending trying to find something to write about. I'd sit in my office which doubles as a gaming room, usually on Xbox Live chatting with friends as I pondered about ideas for where to take my serial killer, Jeremy. I was finding that it was harder than it looked to be a writer. I had ideas, don't we all, but my ideas never really struck a chord with me. I just didn't think anyone would be interested in hearing what I'd have to say. Zeke told me to just keep doing it, eventually I'd find the right direction to go, but lately I was feeling discouraged. So I gamed all night, went to bed at ungodly hours, woke up, and would go to my day job.

I worked at a mental health clinic where I was the supervisor for the data entry and IT department. Apparently my limited knowledge of computers was enough to qualify me for the role. I had three people that were part of my team, and I ran the department fairly. My wife was my supervisor, as she was the director of the clinic. We butted heads once in a while, but I always ended up just doing as asked. When there was downtime, I'd spend my time writing or trying to come up with ideas for a story. Writer's block, they call it... In reality, this felt more like a force field from a science fiction movie or show that just wouldn't let me through.

Just you wait, you'll figure something out.

But the feeling of sticky, red, blood just wouldn't go away.

Wait, what? Blood? I blinked and rubbed my eyes. Nope, no blood. Maybe I'm more tired than I thought. Too many late nights on the Xbox or watching horror movies for me. I looked around the office, at my co-workers. Nope, no bodies, no blood. Just an imagination going wild? I need sleep.

Let me in...

I loved those three words. I don't remember how I came up with it for my Doctor character. It just felt right, felt like I had heard them before. And every time I read them, I'd read them in this demonic hiss of a whisper...it felt right.

Closer than you think...the blood...

I scratched my head, wondering what the vision of bloody hands was all about. Ah well, work calls...but I can't focus. The computer screen blurs, the vision of my bloody hands comes back. But it's nighttime, and there's a woman on the ground in front of me. She's not moving. There's a knife in her gut and some kind of symbol or something carved into her chest...but I can't make it out. I start to panic, I try to scream, but there's no noise....

Then I come to. I'm sitting in the corner of the men's room in my office. I try to bring my heart rate down, the anxiety trying it's best to blow my heart out of my chest. How'd I get in the bathroom? How long have I been in there? Oh God, did I actually scream? Did anyone hear it? Am I alone? In a panic, I get to my feet and check the other stalls. There's no one around. I open the door a crack and listen...but no one in the office heard anything. So I slowly walk back to my desk and sit down in front of my computer, staring at the screen, wondering just what in the Hell just happened. No one around me is reacting to my return, as if it were a common occurrence. Which means I didn't scream and was only gone for a few seconds, maybe a few minutes at most.

The symbol though...

Yeah, that mark...what was that mark? I close my eyes trying to remember, but nothing. It's almost like the image I saw had been erased from my mind. I cursed to myself and turned my attention back to my laptop. Work e-mails had been cleared, which means there wasn't anything I needed to handle, at least not immediately. So I clicked over to Twitter and tried to see if I could distract myself, but no one was really available, not Josh, not Zeke, no one.

Probably working...

So I made the feeble attempt to find some kind of news online to distract me, nothing really catching my eye until...an article...about a woman...who was gutted, her body put on display...and a mark that was carved into her chest. Frantically, I searched the Web for more articles on this story, but no one had any images. I cursed again, reading the original article I had found. Apparently she was a high school senior at one of the local schools. In fact, this happened in a neighborhood near the old Concordia Cemetery. I didn't find it all that strange, since that was a bad part of town. What was strange was...this girl? She matched the description of the girl in my strange vision...

Oh God...the blood...the sweet, sticky, shiny, blood...

I shuddered at the thought, then the power in the building went out. I looked around at my co-workers and groans of anger or annoyance escaped them, as they all lost their hard work. I looked out the window and watched as thunder clouds rolled in. A storm had come, bringing thunder and lightning with it. I watched as the rain fell.

Blood...

And I could swear...the color of the rain on the pavement...was bright red.