The case of Mr. Amphyne.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic


An investigator that is caught up in a web for which he has no answer.

Submitted: August 13, 2018

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Submitted: August 13, 2018

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I have worked many a case throughout my career as, first, a police detective, and then as a private investigator, but there is only one case that still haunts me, even after so many years. The case of which I am talking about remains unsolved, and that the perpetrator, or monster, have started up again after all these years. When I say that the case remains unsolved, it is a little misleading, because I know who, but not what, the murderer is, but it could not be proven, nor would it ever, I fear. The name of this heinous murderer is Shore Amphyne. What I am about to tell you may indeed be too hard to swallow for some, nay, for many of you reading this, but it is nonetheless the truth.

 

 The first victim all those years ago were a nineteen years old college student named Benjamin Jensen. He had just left his favorite coffee-shop, and were on his way back to his dorm-room, when he, according to the witnesses, turned white as a corpse and fell to the ground. The coroner was stunned and stumped by Ben's death, he could not find any causes for his demise. "It is", he said, "like his life force were drained in less than a second." To this, of what I thought of then, idiocy, I retorted: "C'mon, Doc, stop being a New Age fag babbling on about lifeforces and whatnot. Now, I want you to take a good hard look in the mirror, remember that you are a fucking M.D, and come back with some sensical shit, please." I know, I was an intolerable little shit back then, still am many would say, but that is neither here nor there. Needless to say, the coroner did not take kindly to my words, and so he told me, while he was kicking me out, that there are no medical evidence surrounding the boy's death, and that the draining of the "life force" were the best way he could describe of what happened, and that Ben died standing up, thus were already dead when his fall began.

 

 The second death happened in a restaurant, a pretty upscale one. The victim was Diana Royce, a thirty-four years old wife to the hotshot founder and CEO of Liefen Corp, which specializes in pharmacology and biochemistry, creating and patenting all kinds of medicine and medical treatments, and selling them at as high a price as possible, to the surprise of no one. Now, this is my own bias influencing this documentation, but I just had to write it. Anyway, Diana and her husband, Timothy Royce IV (I know, one of those families), were having dinner to celebrate his fifty-seventh birthday. The coroner's and the forensic expert's preliminary conclusions, an hour or so after I arrived at the scene, were the same as with Benjamin Jensen's. This time, however, it was a more controlled setting compared to the streets where Ben died. We hoped that this could yield some positive results in the case, and to move us closer to the truth. It was indeed what happened, though not in the way we hoped nor ever wanted.

 

Officer Simon Anderson finished his interview with an old, fragile-looking man, and moved on the one of the servers, when he suddenly turned just as white as Diana and Benjamin were, and fell to the floor. When I witnessed this, my blood turned cold, and I froze for a moment or two, but I managed to snap out of it and order a total lockdown. I tried using the restaurant’s phone, but it was as dead as Simon were. This was the age before cellphones, so there were not many choices around for communication with the outside. After a moment of deliberating with myself, I decided that I would drive to the precinct and alert everyone that might be necessary to be able to end this bizarre case once and for all. I fought like hell to keep my panic and building insanity from overwhelm me on my drive to and from the precinct. When I parked outside of the restaurant again, I instantly knew something had gone terribly wrong. One other thing must be mentioned here; the radio was fucked, it was totally useless, and I do not know, to this day, how he made it happen, but given the time, my mind and the mystery of Mr. Amphyne, I gave up then, and I give up now, on trying to understand it. The answer might not be so alien to me, neither then nor now, but it does not matter, and you will know why.

 

All the lights were off, and as it was dark outside, made it impossible to see anything through the windows. I knocked frantically at the door, announcing myself and demand entrance. No one answered, and just to take it off the list, I tried open the door. To my utter surprise and horror, it was unlocked. That was not how it should have been, no way. I entered the blackness of the restaurant, my gun drawn and resting in my right hand while my left was following the wall. Suddenly the lights turned back on, and I witnessed a colony of Hell on earth. Every single one in the restaurant were dead, their corpses lying in such a surreal way around the restaurant that it was hypnotizing. I had been pushed beyond the edge of madness. I ran out of the restaurant in a way only a true madman could. Once outside, I dropped to pavement on the sidewalk and started to bash my hands into it while tears poured out of my eyes, and I half cried, half laughed. I thought I had passed the point of no return, when suddenly I heard a voice beside me. It was a voice that could not belong to anyone but an old, broken man. "Whatever is the matter, lad?" he asked in a shaky, frail tone with a slight Irish accent. Suddenly I was pulled from the grasp of insanity and hopelessness. It was something with that voiced that saved me, that awoke the detective within me again, reigniting the flames of life.

 

 As I cleared my sight with my bloody hands, and looked to the man to whom the voice belonged, I instantly recognized him. He was the fragile old man Simon had interviewed just moments before he died. How had he survived? For me, the answer to that question was the only viable one; he was the murderer. An endless stream of frantic thoughts rushed through my shattered psyche as I tried to repair it and structure those thoughts run amok. Finally, when my mind had somewhat rejuvenated, I slowly rose to my feet, and took in the old man. He wore a black suit underneath a long, black coat, a top hat and shoes to match, all in, what I would describe as, a timeless fashion.

 

He wore thick, round glasses on the tip of his nose, his eyes were icy blue, his beard were white as snow, and his face, though fragile-looking and old, were like viewing the face of Zeus himself. After a short analysis of the man, i looked him straight in the eyes, and asked: "Who are you?" The Man chuckled for a second, before answering: "Oh, I am sorry, lad, where are my manners? My name is Shore Amphyne, and what, pray tell, might yours be?" Instead of answering his question, I asked: "Why the fuck are you not dead? You were in that fucking restaurant, and everyone except you are dead, how can that fucking be!?" My voice rose to a yell, and cracked, but I did not care, I needed to know, even if provoking this man might add my body to the pile he has built. "Please, calm down, lad.

 

 Are you feeling okay? Are you alright?" This time it was me who chuckled, though mine were not out of sheer joy as his were, but one of insanity. "Let me be frank with you" I said after my chuckle ended. "No I am fucking not! There, happy!?" Once again, my voice rose, though I managed to rail it in. "Are you sure you are not fine?" He persisted. "Fuck you, you grave-escapee!" I answered not very calmly nor collected, not even politely. Shore Amphyne just sighed and said "Oh well" and then he turned and began walking away from me. "You stay right fucking there, you antediluvian denizen, you hear me!!?" I felt my throat being torn up by my scream, but such petty grievances had to wait. When Shore Amphyne did not stop, I began to run after him, but suddenly I completely lost my sense of balance, and fell face first into the sidewalk. It was like gravity just said "oh no you won't" and pulled me down into the embrace of Gaia. It all went black with the impact.

 

I was jolted awake from the black embrace of oblivion in a hospital bed. Apparently, it had gone four days since that night, and my Captain, Jonah Walsh, told me that when they arrived, they found me lying on the sidewalk, unresponsive, I was taken to the emergency, but except the injuries to my face, caused by the impact, they found nothing wrong with me. They were surprised that I did not awake until four days later, and when I described the sensation of completely losing my sense of balance, they said that nothing with me medically indicated anything of the kind that could have caused it. Captain Walsh went on to explain that the CDC believed it was a sort of liquid neurotoxin that caused the deaths. When I asked how they came to that conclusion, Captain Walsh just said "don't ask", and left. The murders of Shore Amphyne were covered up for some reason, and the "The identity of the culprit and administrator of the neurotoxin remains unknown". I told Captain Walsh about Shore Amphyne, but, to my surprise, he just laughed. He laughed so hard that he could not sit straight. "That's a funny ass name" he said between his fits of laughter.” you must really have hit your head, detective. you really should go home and rest. I cannot have a detective on duty spewing such silly things." I followed his advice, though I never doubted my own memories or sanity. I kept looking into the case in secret throughout my career as a detective, and when I retired and started my private investigator agency, I still kept trying to crack the case of Mr. Amphyne. A couple of days ago, when I was eating a burger, I saw Shore Amphyne, not aged a day in all these years, talking with a little girl. I did not want to spook him, as this was my first opportunity to finally close the real case since that time outside of the restaurant. I got close enough to hear the last bit of their conversation. "hey, what is the matter, lassie?" "Nothing, really" "Are you sure, lassie?" "Yeah, I'm fine, it's nothing." "Okay, good. I got to go, but please say hello to your mother from me, will you, lassie?" "Okay! Bye!" "Farewell, little lady." Shore Amphyne then rose from the bench on which he and the little girl sat, and slowly walked away. Instead of walking out of sight of the restaurant, he stopped, turned, and watched the little girl skipping towards her mother. When she was right in front of her mother, the little girl turned white and fell to the ground.

 

 Before I knew it, Shore Amphyne stood beside me, and said: "Long time no see, lad." My mind was blank for what felt like an eternity, before it was flooded once again, and I asked: What are you? How are you doing this? Why are you doing this?" Like that time, all those years ago, Mr. Amphyne chuckled, then answered: "What am I? Well, I am best described as a god. One might say I am a god of life. Some would say I am a god of death, but I see that as a false statement, as I control the metaphysical force of life, thus I could, for example, give life force back to that little girl and she would live, but, you see, there is only a certain amount of life force, thus it has its limits. I could give her back her life force, or I could take someone else's and give it to her. I am a banker of sorts, you might say. I am collecting on the debts all living organisms, but particularly humans, owes me. This I do, because soon a god beyond gods will enter our plane of existence, and I am building something that could save us all, and for that device I need life force. I have been collecting for thousands of years, and the day of reckoning are growing ever closer. I have answered your questions, so now, lad, I have to go, and please do not try to stop me this time. Farewell."

 

With that, Shore Amphyne turned and walked away, and I did not try to stop him. In the beginning of this documentation of the case of Mr. Amphyne, I stated that the perpetrator, or monster, has started again. First of all, As I stated recently, Shore Amphyne sees himself as a god, and his powers are without a doubt on a divine level, and that he is preparing for the coming of a "god beyond gods" and that he as collected for thousands of years. Thus, he never stopped, just moved out of my sight. Anyway, I do not know what to do, because, in a crazy way, I believe what Mr. Amphyne said. Would I want to jeopardize our whole existence for a few lives? Should justice come at any cost? I truly do not know. This has been a brief recap of the case of Mr. Amphyne, and whatever you might think of it, I had to put it out there, so I truly can tell myself that I tried to inform people about Shore Amphyne.


© Copyright 2018 JonathanEHova. All rights reserved.

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