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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Action and Adventure  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 4 (v.1) - Departures

Submitted: June 16, 2018

Reads: 33

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Submitted: June 16, 2018



In Martin's Living Room, the crystal sat where it had been left the night before. It did not glow nor did it move; it was as silent as the house in which it sat. The silence was broken by a scream that came from an upstairs room. This was followed soon after by the noise of shuffling footsteps coming down the stairs.

As Martin entered the room holding his balding head and leaving the door ajar, the Evil One's voice came from the crystal.

“I can feel you are rested.”

It was true that Martin had been resting. The raw pinkness on his hands showed that he had cleaned the mud from the labour in the early hours of that day. But his attempts at sleep had been fitful and the rest had been shallow and unsatisfying. Somehow Martin could feel that the Evil One knew this but took pleasure in saying what he knew to be untrue.

“You have much work ahead of you,” said the Evil One's voice. “First thing you will do is destroy the leather with the runes on. In spite of your feeble mind you have managed to break me from my prison and I can feel my strength growing. Soon I will be able to leave the crystal.”

Martin started to fold up the leather. Still holding his head and sounding weary he said “I am happy I was of service to you my Lord.”

The Evil One did not even acknowledge the comment; he simply continued to give orders. “When you have destroyed the leather, you will prepare for a trip to London. We will go to Piccadilly Circus.”

Martin didn't understand why he would be asked to do such a thing. He walked over to the crystal and as he looked closely at it, he made a grave mistake; he questioned. He did not even need to utter the query; it was picked from his mind, as a kestrel might pick out a moving field mouse. His confusion continued as he walked over to the kitchen drawer and got out the largest, sharpest knife he had. He held it out in front of him with the blade aimed at his stomach. He slowly brought the blade closer and closer until it touched him. His face contorted and there was terror in his eyes. He felt the knifepoint pierce his skin, but before it went in any depth, the knife fell from his grasp.

He heard the Evil One's voice again. “You see how easily I control your weak little mind? Do not question me again. Now go and prepare.”

Martin wanted to run as far and as fast as he could. His house and all his possessions meant nothing to him; getting away from this dread filled aura of menacing hatred was all he wanted to do. He made no move to follow his instinct. He wanted to; he was desperate to, but still he did not. Instead he obeyed all that he was told to do, but he despised doing it, and he knew exactly why.

The Evil One had permitted him, no forced him, to be aware that he was obeying and serving this being he had freed, but now feared. It was not a plain fear that might come upon him if in danger of physical injury, or social embarrassment. It was a deep horrifying terror that ran throughout him constantly. His regret at releasing such evil was heightened into a despising of himself.

Even though he now knew there was no escape from the crystal's occupant, Martin was glad to be able to get away from the crystal as he scurried away to the bathroom to stem the flow of blood from the minor abdominal incision.


Jason knocked on the utilitarian hospital door, and on hearing the call to come in, he pushed to door open and sidled into the room where he saw a familiar tall grey- haired figure hunched over the rotas on the desk in front of him. It was a small functional office with a simple desk and two chairs.  The room was barely decorated and there were pipes running along the back wall, yet this was still the Head Porter's office, and it was unusual to be summoned to it.

“Hi John, you wanted to see me?” said Jason.

John looked up and said “Yes I’ve just heard you need to take a couple of weeks off, urgently.”

Jason nodded and said simply, “Yes.”

John swept his hand across the rotas on the table in front of him. “It’s not exactly convenient at the moment.”

Jason was torn; he enjoyed his job, and he liked the interaction with the patients. He also got on well with John, or at least as well as well as he thought John would allow in his own little empire. He didn't like leaving the hospital in the lurch, but he knew he had no choice. There was a bigger job to be done and he would be needed. It was his destiny, and he knew he would leave his job if he had to.  “Yes, I know,” he said. “I wouldn’t be doing it unless it was absolutely necessary.”

John studied Jason’s demeanour. “Is there a problem at work, because if there is...”

Jason cut him off, “No, it’s nothing to do with work.”

“Anything I can help with?”

“It’s complicated.”

For what seemed like ages John and Jason seemed to lock gazes. Jason felt that his resolve was being tested, and he knew that at this time it was going to be no contest. He was about to remind John about how easy he had been about fitting in with others on the rota, and say again that he wouldn’t ask for this if it wasn’t really important.

“Okay,” said john, “if it’s personal I don’t want to know, especially if it’s complicated. I’m about to have a few complications of my own. I’ll be a porter down for the next fortnight.”

With those words, Jason was relieved of one weight from his mind, “Thanks John,” was all he said and he turned to leave.

Just as Jason reached the door John said, “Just try and get it sorted quickly, the kids on the wards'll miss you.”

Jason said “I’ll try,” and without looking back he left the room.


It was early evening as Patricia drove to the airport. She was content that Julian was now settled in with his grandparents, and that she was in plenty of time for the flight.

Driving along the freeway, she saw in the distance a man standing next to something on the ground, about fifteen yards from a parked jeep.  

As she got closer to the wide dusty area at the roadside, she saw a body lying on the floor. The man started to flag her down. Thinking that perhaps this man’s friend had collapsed and that he needed help, she indicated and pulled off the road onto the dusty ground. She might not have stopped if she had been thinking clearly, and had her mind not have been crowded with thoughts about what was to come. She did not even question why she was being singled out.

Unconcerned for her own safety, she smiled to herself, as she pulled up. “If he's got any nasty intentions, I'll be far more than he bargained for,” she thought to herself as she got out of the car.

The man was dressed in jeans and a denim jacket under which he wore a chequed shirt. His faded brown hat was beginning to get a little floppy from age and wear. The greying hair from beneath just reached the bottom of his neck at the back, and just covered his ears at the sides. He wore a bootlace tie passing through a patterned disk at the front. It was made of beads and arranged in an eight pointed pattern. It appeared to be Native American art, but Patricia could not guess from which of the nations it originated.

Nodding towards the body on the floor Patricia said “Are you all right? Do you need a hand?”

The stranger moved towards her. “I need to talk to you,” he said.

Patricia was concerned by the man’s directness so she kept her distance. “Do I know you?” She was gauging his abilities and strengths. He was a couple of inches taller possibly, but not as well conditioned, in fact slightly overweight. She thought he might be quite strong if he got hold of her, so she would make sure that didn’t happen.

The man stayed back. “No, we have never met; but I know that you are special.”

Patricia moved back towards her car. “Now you’re creeping me out. Just stay there, and don’t come any closer.” As she finished speaking she had reached the car.

A grave look came over the man’s rounded features, and he said, “Please, do not drive off; I am not the threat to you.”

Patricia retreated back along her car. She did not want to risk being grabbed while she was getting in, besides she had a better deterrent in mind. “So you say, but if all you wanted to do is talk to me you could have just phoned.”

“I had to make sure you would listen to what I have to say.”

“Okay, I'm listening,” said Patricia, trying to keep the conversation going as she got closer to the boot of her car.

“You do not have to go in search of evil. If you wait in the right place it will come to you.”

Patricia opened the boot, and then came out from the back of the car with her sword in her hand. “You’re right. You are no threat to me so I suggest you stay out of my way.” She made the man move back so that she could go over and see the body on the floor. She kicked it gently, concerned that it might be an earlier victim of this weirdo. She discovered it was just a pile of rubbish made to look like a body. “What the hell is this?” she said, as much to herself as to her adversary.

The split second she was distracted was just enough for the man to draw a gun and point it at Patricia. “I am sorry, but I cannot let you go and search in vain; you are far too important.”

Patricia raised her hands and made back for the relative safety of her car. The man saw where she was headed and he waved her away with the gun and said “Keep away from the car; move over there.” As soon as Patricia was far enough from her car he pointed the gun at it and shot out the two tires he could see. While Patricia stood looking on in shock, the man got into his car and raced off.

At first Patricia was rooted to the spot, but once she had regained her senses, rage took over and she chased the car. While waving her sword in the air, she shouted “You lunatic; what is wrong with you?” Even when she did remember to note the licence plate, she saw that it was obscured by mud as it raced off.

Patricia stomped up and down fuming. “When I catch you; I’ll use this sword to make sure you spend the rest of your life sitting down to piss.”

Nobody stopped to see why there were two gunshots or why there was a woman with a sword stomping up and down.

Back in her car, she sat in the front seat and brushed the hair back with her hand. She was still seething as she got out her Mobile phone and started dialling. The wait for an answer seemed a long one but then she heard her brother’s voice.

“Hello: Jason Clarke.”

“Hi Jason, I’ve had a bit of a problem this end and I’m not going to be able to get over there just yet.”

“Sis, are you all right?” Jason sounded concerned, probably because she had not been able to fully stop her voice betraying her feeling of rage.

“Yes, just a little shaken up that’s all. Some crazy guy flagged me down and shot my tires out.”

“Did you phone the police?”

“Yes, I told them but they weren’t really interested. They said they would keep it on record and make some investigations. I know they won’t bother; not when they know nothing was stolen.”

“What was he after then?”

“I don’t know it was all over pretty quickly.”

“Could the Evil One be affecting people all the way over there already?”

Patricia looked towards the sky. “I don’t know, but if he is behind this, he might be even more desperate when I’m in the air.” There was a pause and she thought she could hear Jason moving about on the other end of the line.

“You’d better stay where you are,” said Jason

“You know I can’t do that,” said Patricia. “I’ll get the car fixed and get over as soon as I can.” She was trying to make light of it to Jason but her head was full of worries, such as where she would get the money from to repair the car and most of all what would happen if the Evil One tried again.

“Just watch yourself,” said Jason. “So far there have been no developments here, but if anything happens I’ll call you.”

“Right, I will, but only if you take care too; you’re the one nearest the Evil One remember?”

“Yeh, I know; but he’ll take time to gather his strength. I haven’t heard anything from that part of the country so my guess is he’s moving slowly.”

Patricia paused momentarily. “I worry about you that's all; you’re still my little brother.”

“I know Sis, speak to you soon,” he mumbled quickly.

“Okay 'bye” and with that Patricia pressed the button ending the call.

© Copyright 2019 Kevin Broughton. All rights reserved.


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