the fate of the coachman

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: November 04, 2017

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Submitted: November 02, 2017




The fate of the Coachman

During a dark evening when the whole sky was blackened by a veil of the midnight darkness, the howling of the wolves into a whimpering crescendo touching the air slightly with tunes of terror likely to forebode disaster, I was there seated in a glorious carriage, my ears being a witness to the sombre tunes already alluded to while the horses like terrible stallions made me float in the air while they galloped, the hooves thudding in the velvet-soft snowy ground. As they moved speedily, the sound of the hauling wolves increased, this time turning more sonorous, making my heart explode as it throbbed with kind of fear that I myself could not understand. Subsequently, I could hear the whisper of the coachman, Davies, whose sweat words dripped like honey but this time they dripped fear as he said, “Whoa, easy boy”. This time the canopies of the trees formed something like a tunnel of for us and their drowsy tenebrous shadows began to show signs of life forming what I later called the creature of terror, while at the same time, the patter of a massive lump of snow on the roof of the carriage from the leaves of the trees was jerked into our heartbeats .There was a certain degree of fear that crept into my body which made me to wish if I had the privilege to take position of the spectator like the coachman to witness the outside world both from the eyes and the ears, but for wishes to become horses it became inevitable since beggars would also ride .While terrific visages of the wolves singing their lugubrious songs to devour, rushed into my mind, there was a sudden eruption of rock hard silence which was sporadically punctuated by the eerie crackling sounds of the trees and then a subsequent outburst as the red eyes of the ugly faced creatures could be seen looming, illuminating in the darkness into splinter-red shreds of light. Then , I had realised that it was the time that should be taken to experience the horrendous imaginations in reality , in order to fulfil the last episode of fear. As the coachman single-handedly held reins, the throats of the wolves could be heard rattling as they took deadly advances ready to drench their pores with blood .Their shadows could be seen leaping , their flesh-tearing talons flashing in the glint of the crescent-shaped moon as they ripped the coachman to the bone making him groan while his own blood flooding as if it was a bursting pipe ,consequently making him lose grip of the reins .Rigid slabs of fear pattered against the walls of my heart throbbing and sobbing with fear ,as I heard the horses whose breed I had deemed indomitable neighing uncontrollably, before I could feel the flying and the spinning of the carriage and then the snapping sounds as it smashed to rigid feature of the earth. I soon perceived that I began to dose as I found my head dropped closely to my chest and my eyes were half-closed. From Hungary to Transylvania had been the most terrible journey and now, it seemed as if were locked in the hoods where creatures we would to us would like to feel the warmth of our blood on their barred fangs. Davies who happened to be the coachman was a slender man of middle age for the eyes that were sunk into his large sockets and a fine chiselled nose that seemed to be like those like the clergyman portrayed as Caricatures and a notable grizzled moustache. It was the hat that completed the picturesque appearance of this gentleman who did not do much with the talking. On his upper body there was a tight fitting jacket and a black cloak which sprawled across the hands of the carriage. Heaving brushed up the question I had asked him earlier on, snorting and upheaving a ball of mottled phlegm from his throat, Davies found himself telling me about the bitter memories of his past. “Sir”, he muttered gravely, “sometime ago before I had met you ,when I was back from my roaming around in our small town which for a set of reasons not worthy mentioning ,I shall not tell you the name ,I had lost my firm as a lawyer .My boss had fired me partly because I was stubborn in siding with justice and partly due to internal differences that I hadn’t figured out by that time. I had been trying to collect the strings together, to unravel the mystery behind the rapid loss of my job. By that time I was having problems in the bedroom with my wife and finally all that existed between us ceased to breathe as she finally demanded, though hesitantly that I may sign the dreadful document .Life had never been so miserable . I had wondered that which had penetrated deep in the heart of my wife who at first, I had deemed incorruptible, but I could feel in my mind how such thoughts were fading and most importantly, losing value. On the day I had met them accidentally though by coincidence in the street, I had known that the whole mystery was overshadowed by Clarke, my former boss. I had shouted on top of my voice that the latter was a criminal, regardless of my ragged state which was evidenced by slightly riff-ruff clothing, not before he choked me with terribly abusive words. As I began to see the crowds, my martial instinct began to creep over other feelings, driving me into one of the most terrible things that I had ever done forced by the flare of the populace. My body could be seen shaking with ungovernable rage and from the look of things I knew that I was going to explode and slimy substances which were particles of anger to splash on the face of the gentleman I had seen. With strenuous strength I jerked my wife out of the way, forcing her out of the way with a violent scream, whilst her dress flapped all over her body. I stuffed in his face eternally dangerous blows which almost left his face rugged, before the blow of the whistle erupted as the police arrived at the scene just in the nick of time for I was about to pull out his bowels and parade them to everyone else including his mistress, my former wife. After manhandled me through the crowds full of ragged enthusiasm, I was sentenced for a couple of years in prison after Mr Clarke pressed his charges on me for harassing them in public .During the sweet years of our relationship, I used to call my wife ,my life ,so after the incident I had lost two valuable things in my life ,my life and my job. In my wife I had found a devil’s thorn in the flesh .Another important thing that I had lost was my freedom. After being knocked off several times by the police, I found myself bumping and rolling as I got between those bars. That was when you came, I’m grateful, for you came with my freedom which I now use to explore the magnificent places of the earth. “We’ve never used this route before, I guess”, I said and after a pause then continued saying, “To come using this route shows that you are a bit familiar with this place huh”. “No sire”. He sounded with the least enthusiasm, before I said, “For some I have been having these strange dreams about this place which drags me in a feud with supernatural creatures”. “The Lord is coming for the second time” ,he snapped before he muttered, “But before he comes, the devil must be released”. As I floundered in doubt, trying to figure out what he was trying to figure out he then said, “As I have heard before, most times especially during the winter the devil takes the waste form of the wild in these woods. I haven’t yet found a reason why they had for many years embarked on a killing spree of human civilisation when they sniff of humans lingering in their nostril”. His nostrils could be seen flaring as the atmosphere was charged with emotions. Little did we know that the more talked of these evil creatures, the more we were brought closer to them, awakening their instinct to devour. There was a high peaked haul of a wolf from a distant place and we continued talking for it was to hear the sounds of the creatures of the wild in the woods but after some time, there was a response by hauling from other wolves forming something like a salvo, but the coachman commanded for a moment of silence to be observed, and the horses stopped for a while. The hauling of the wolves which lolled their tongues could be heard creating ear piecing sounds, transforming the atmosphere into one clotted by clods of fear, but the coachman being sober-minded kept an eye on the nearby surroundings and the other on the road while he held the reins with convulsive tenacity, slowly whispering to the horses words that calmed their fears. As I have and seen if before, the wolves which had a variety of appearances and bristling manes could be seen flying high towards the carriage and that when the horses were given a taste of fear which enlarged their speed to a devilish one .Anything could happen from that time onwards especially when I heard my heard more than any sound that was heard, closer to uttering expressions of explosion. Hesitantly ,I opened the window of the coach and alas, that was close as one of the leaping wolves missed my head by inches and I could feel the brush of air on my upper body signalling the fiery speed of the beastly wolf. Briskly closing the window with the forceful thrust, I got back inside and by then my heart had moved an inch into my mouth. Then I could feel the struggle between the horses an the wolves within me probably due to the thudding sounds which could heard when the hooves of the horses on the left side collided with the rigid cheekbones, just like what happens usually when a bone crashes into steel, as they gave them double kicks which were followed by dough whimpers startled by the fascinating performance of the terrified horses, slighted by the wolf which had soon had its mouth tricking with dark blood, the pack of wolves died for a while, only to appear for the second time, this time more virulent than ever. With speed that appeared so breath taking, veiling his face with one of those spiteful looks, Davies found himself, pulling from his jacket, pistol. Closing in a single eye which was stitched with streaked wrinkles, he aimed at one of these wolves, cocked the gun, ready to pull the trigger. Suddenly, the disturbing snap in the air could be heard after the coachman with the least hesitation, touched the much dreaded trigger which was followed by the rattling of the bullet in the atmosphere pursued by tiny alliance of sparkling flames and a whiff of smoke, but to descend on the flesh of the wolf was problematic as the wolf bounded into the air several times, thereby dodging the terrible bullets. Momentarily , the wolves stopped running as they were send asunder, before Davies manipulated a chance to inflict yet another blow on the wolves on their confusion. The impact of the bullet was maddening as it tore the wolf`s throat, tearing a chunk of flesh leaving the gush of blood to be the story teller of the glamorous horror ever to exist in this massive form of action. The sound that escaped from the throat of the creature was indeed of pitiable resemblance for my mind compared the terrible treatment given to the wolves to that given to our own domestic dogs, but soon the feeling that triumphed in my mind was sentimental considering the nature of the animal which we were dealing with , in this case being the wild. Suddenly, the battle or course of the events soon began to become radical turning from their moderate form, but for Davies who thought he making progress, what was needed was to device a policy of conservatism that he would continue to dominate the terror and eventually defeat those creatures. Suddenly the battle was intensified as one of the wolves appeared on Davies` left leaping on his arm before he clenched his teeth tightly, a sure sign to hide his pain, but it was just a matter of time before he gave a vehement flick which made the wolf to drag its teeth on his flesh for a while, uttering a malevolent growl as it rolled on ground. Another wolf came from his right, its throat a melting pot vibrating with full throttled growls leaping while its target was the throat of the coachman. Davies face was a diabolical grimace as he shifted his reins to the left hand, then bashed the wolf on the head with the other hand. The wolf could be seen rolling in the ground until it made a terrible contact with one of the projecting rocks just outside the road. Another shot was made, drilling through the ear of one of the wolves reducing its speed, though it was still determined to pursue the main goal of the pack, to destroy everything that the carriage consisted. At the same time the galloping of the horses became considerable. For a moment I sat listening to the bumps as the carriage tore through a path infested with potholes and rigid features. Subsequently, one of the wolves jumped on Davies wrist and there was a crunching sounds of the breaking bones and blood could be seen splashing from his wounded hand down to the ground. The wolf was still grinding the bones with its menacing razor blade teeth forcing mysterious brown substances to commingle with blood forming a viscous element which then trickled, while at the same time his body was brought closer to the ground. Simultaneously another wolf jumped at him from the opposite direction, sinking its desirous fangs onto Davies` shoulder and after a struggle, lost the grip of his gun for the monster had drained his strength to zero, but to lose the reins was synonymous to the loss of our own lives. “My gun”, I could hear Davies shrieking in disgust and at the same time my heart sank for I had diverted all my hopes for survival in him. Realising that the source of his strength and protection had been taken, for with the gun he was a wrecking machine struggling to loosen the grip of the claw and teeth, Davies wriggled tremendously, digging his nails into the savage that was on his shoulder before throwing it far beyond the reach where it smashed to one of the pine trees. The response to the former wolf was a blood- letting blow, but the animal remained stiff. The second blow made the wolf to spin and how. The wolf made its terrible fall as the wheel came rolling upon its face crushing and snapping its chapped bones and the coup de grace came in form of well-placed kicks from the horses . The last phase was disastrous. One of the horses had been bitten, and there were three of the wolves left while the speed of the horses had been reduced as the balance became sloppy. An eerie cracking sound was experienced and then a sharp outburst as one of the wheels was loosed, rolling and bumping with undying continuity. The big one which was a heavy chested and husky sized came like something from the sky colliding its rabid shoulders with the carriage, until it made a spasmodic spin, rolling on the ground .That was when they took the chance, a chance they grabbed with both hands as they clung their teeth to the horses which wined painfully. There was considerable kicking of the horses which neighed terribly until they kicked struggled for the last time and died, after the horses the wolves the wolves turned to Davies and stung over him, tearing him into pieces that I never saw. It was a relentless struggle which ended with his end. “Shit”, I gasped ,my hands on my hands mouth. From one of the dust sheathed chest in the carriage, I uncovered, coming from them a long barrelled shotgun which I glanced for a while examining in the dark before I suddenly loaded it with six or seven bullets after polishing the barrel. The action of loading the gun coincided with the long howl of the wolves as they finished with Davies and their eyes twitched as they turned virulently, with a dangerous advance as I cocked the deadly gun.

The End

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