2 January 2013
As Marcus took the last sip of bourbon from his glass, hew new it was time to leave. The bitter taste from the drink had long since disappeared as he began to drink the whiskey more like water. He removed the trench coat that adorned his bar stool, put it on and fastened the belt tightly in an attempt to help withstand the storm that was brewing outside. With his tab paid, he began to head out and on his way back to the secluded apartment he kept on 121st street.
Head down to keep the rain out of his eyes, Marcus began to hurry his pace a little as the rain intensified. Rather than keep along his usual route, he took a quick left turn down the alley way that ran along the side of the local grocery store, after all, what could be worse, an extra 5 minutes in the downpour or a quick run through the darkness of an unlit path.
Dodging the usual trash cans that were along the route, Marcus paused for a brief second as the sharp, piercing, almost deafening sound of thunder rang through the air. One thought crept into his mind, ‘where was the lightning that precedes the thunder?’ Dismissing the non-appearance of the lightning as a mere side effect of his slightly intoxicated state, as well as the memory lapses that usually accompanied it, Marcus quickened his light jog into more of a sprint, eager to avoid being trapped out in the storm for longer than necessary.
As if from nowhere though, he tripped. The fall down to the cold, wet ground seemed to take an age for him though, looking at the floor he was about to hit, wondering what he could have possibly fallen over.
Feeling like hell, Marcus began to stir. Lifting his hand to his head he wiped away the blood from the corner of his eye. Tracing the trickle of the red liquid from his eye up to his forehead, he grimaced in pain as his fingers ran across the deep gash on his forehead. Next, wondering how long he’d been out for, he retrieved the phone from his pocket. The screen, now in cracked beyond recognition, seemed to reveal the time as being 00:21, meaning he’d been out for roughly half an hour. With the rain still pouring down, he shifted on to his hands and knees and felt round where his feet where, attempting to piece together the reason for his fall.
That’s when he felt it, a crack. It hadn’t been here last week he thought to himself.
As soon as his fingers rubbed against the jagged concrete though, the thunder began to ring out again. This time more forceful, more powerful, more consistent. Clap after clap, barely even a millisecond between each strike, Marcus grasped his hands over his ears, the noise was unbearable. As the noise suddenly stopped, he began to slowly look up.
Where one crack had previously been at his fingertips, he noticed hundreds of fractures, protruding from the original but stretching nearly the entire length of the alley, only stopping at the feet of a figure, disguised by the shadows.
As Marcus gazed fearfully upon the person at the end of the alley he recoiled as the man’s eyes glowed a fierce red, the same red he had encountered for the first time this night exactly 10 years ago.
The figures shape flickered briefly for a second, before disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. Marcus new he was not gone though, especially as a freezing hang grasped his shoulder and the most terrifying, grizzly voice seemingly whispered in his ear.
“Time to collect”.
On Earth - Prologue • Opuss № I