The First Chapter

by gh05t

Daytime.

I’m sitting with Cassandra in my study, finishing her session, reflecting on how common her and I actually am. The reason she can do it, is because she doesn’t know she can’t. I can’t do it because I know I can’t. I identify with her so closely, and what she went though. I too, was a prisoner in my childhood. That’s how this all began. Thinking of my father was like pain. Like the pain he caused me. Forcing my childhood to become a prison, with only myself inside.

My father used to beat me until I bled, in revenge, I would bleed all over the furniture and carpets. He’d lock me in the attic, leaving me for days in total darkness. After awhile, I realized I wasn’t alone in my misery. No one ever is.

There was a presence. Sometimes in the dark, I could almost see it…. …and then I did.

The Abblah!

I realized it was enjoying my pain and as my curiosity increased, the pain went. When the pain went, the creature slipped away.

I followed it one day, through the shadows, down farther and farther, down. Into the world I named…

…Leveticus.

In my childish mind, all I had to do was stop the Abblah and his infernal machines and my father would stop beating me. The only way to chase away the shadows that pursued me was to become A Psi-Stalker. Leveticus was the Abblah’s nerve center, his playground of misery. One day, earth, would be like this. I knew instinctively that all pain came from here. This was the source of my father’s brutality.

As for Cassandra, in just six weeks she has learned to speak, read and write as fluently as any girl of her age. It’s clear that in the past her mental development was deliberately retarded. Finally, she is ready….

…and I asked her to tell me her story.

She recounts how all of her life had been spent in a cell six feet long by four feet wide. There was no window. Neither light nor sound ever penetrated from the outside, yet the cell was always of an even temperature and was dimly lit by an unseen source.

Food and water were always there when she woke up. Sometimes the water tasted strange and made her sleep. When she awoke she found she had been washed and tidied and her hair had been cut. This unpaired routine meant that she never set eyes on another human being. Knowing nothing else, she was neither happy nor unhappy, nor even lonely.

Towards the end of her imprisonment, a man in black entered. He recounted to her simple phrases, which she spoke back to him unevenly and then she slipped into unconsciousness. When she awoke, she found herself in Central Park. It is a touching story. It is hard for me to think of this girl as my enemy, in fact, I think of her in a completely different way. But I refuse to take advantage of her innocence, particularly when it’s biting. I need more information about Cassandra. I’ll teach her more, so I can further interrogate her….

….then I’ll kill her.

Here we are. In the here and now, as an old friend used to say, and say he did, each time we met. Here, teetering about four thousand feet above the New York skyline, we come to Now. Floating down, we slowly begin to understand where we begin, and life as you know it….stops.

Life, a creation. Something made by people purposely and accidentally.Something slowly and meticulously crafted, to suit ones needs or desires. Something almost undefinable.

Why doesn’t it communicate with us? Why doesn’t it tell us why it investigates murder and mayhem?

Why it encourages cruelty and perversion? Why should it? We don’t discuss politics with a cow or open diplomatic relations with a hen, for they are things that we own. They are things that exist to be harvested… …as we too, exist to be harvested.

Here we slowly move, through the fields, the suburban areas, because none of them really concern us at this point, we’re going to move right along, past the ball-fields, the cropped grass, flaky painted bleachers stand alone, devoid of all life, as they should be. Quite funny, inanimate objects are left alone, as we are not, because we can think for ourselves.

We make the downtown area, and slow… …almost to a halt, until I see myself.

When you’re spat on by the Abblah, your future is tarnished. You become his unwitting agent. You bear his shadow. I am a Psi-Stalker. I see the future. I see the probability lines shooting marvelously out on his agents, such as this man walking in front of me. If this man lives he will lead our nation in alliance with the coming abomination… …if he lives.

I follow him into the alleys and when I move toward him he turns,

“Who are you?”, he cries. “What do you want?”

I laugh and retort,

“You’re guilty. You must die.”

I’m grabbing hold of this man’s lapels with one hand, and pulling my fiber-wire from my inner coat pocket with the other. During all of this, he is babbling on and on.

“You’re mad! wh-whatever you think I’ve done, I haven’t.”

“I know,” I say. “But you will.”

As I strangle him, he claims his innocence, I quickly intensify the pressure and silence him in a fraction of a second. His mouth opens, and his body tenses, then jaw slacking, he falls to the ground, his throat already swollen and face still contorted with his last painful moments still showing, almost like an expression of surprise.

No one is innocent. No one. Except me.

This is how I spend my nights: Dog barks, cats meow and I hunt shadows. Don’t question me, question the cosmos. I could be mad- if I am the world’s in trouble..

…and if I’m not, the world’s in trouble.

Following this woman, completely clad in fur, which isn’t uncommon for the Manhattan area, I watch the mists and colors materialize all around her, almost like the small halo of light which always emmenates from the heads of religious figures in their paintings.

She’s too trusting, I see that she will inherit a fortune, marry a man who will use her money to establish an armaments industry… …food for the Abblah.

I’ll teach her to be less trusting.

I follow her into a café at the bottom of forty second and third, pushing open the big red doors with both arms, and as I do, she looks towards me. I push to her table, taking in her rouge demeanor. Studying her, I say,

“Excuse me…haven’t I seen you at the Saratoga Club?” “The one on Lennox avenue, near the Cotton Club?”

She nods, an invitation for me to sit down, and I do. I can see the warmth in her eyes, too warm for a woman of New York. I begin to make small talk….

“You like jazz?”, I ask “Sure, who doesn’t?”, she cries “Have you seen Wilbert de Paris?”

“Sure, he’s really peppy.”

As we talk, I slowly ignore her and reach under the table, taking money out of her handbag, right out from under her nose. Hey eyes widened for a moment, moving from my eyes, to the money, which still rests between my thumb and index finger. She makes a grab for the money, and some of the bills flay around, and she rages,

“What..what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Don’t be stupid, “ I laugh, “Isn’t it obvious?”

I pull her wad of bills away, and slap her in the face, watching a small blob of blood fly from the right corner of her mouth.

“I’m strong, you’re weak. I’m taking your money.”

The redhead falls on the floor. As I exit the café, a man grabs my shoulder.

“Hey, Mister!”

I grab the back of his head, forcing his nose to my knee. His face almost seems to erupt in blood, he wilts against the bar. There was nothing wrong with this man’s shadow… …he was just in the way.

Leaving the café, exiting onto forty second, once again.

Later, I see a doctor running for a cab, pity, it’s not all I see. He hurries to his cab, but I must stop his mission of mercy. As he passes by, I jut out my leg and take him to the ground.

“You fool!” he cries, “I’m a doctor – one of my patients is critically ill.”

“Sorry Doctor, I hate doing this but…”

He looks almost abashed that I would stop him. If only he knew.

“Out of my way!” he screams

He won’t save his patient, but neither will he contract typhus and spread it all over the city. I can’t save their sensibilities. I’m too busy…

..saving the world. Too busy watching for the Abblah’s next move. He constantly experiments with the human race, introducing fresh stimuli or catalysts that will produce a violent reaction. All this to get a better yield from the harvest… …our misery.

Police Station

My reputation as an expert in the bizarre led the police to call me in on this baffling case… “The girl is through here,” the desk officer said, “She can barely speak and seems never to have worn clothes. She’s been sitting there for hours without moving a muscle.”

The officer draws his weapon, and I almost jump to stop him, but he seems to notice my angst and calms me by placing his forearm at my waist, as if to say ‘easy boy, easy.’ I feel a little awkward, and give him a glance and a shrug, and allow him to continue on with his demonstration.

“Watch this.”

He aims the gun at her face. Pulls the trigger, and the gun erupts in a loud boom, my eardrums must’ve popped, but the girl never moved, strange.

“Interesting,” I muse, “She has no fear.” I strike a match from the book in my pocket, which I picked up probably at some bar some time ago. It sparks, and Cassie raises her hand to it. “I just want to try a little test,” I say.

Cassandra touches the fire, burning her hand. “It’s obvious that she hasn’t been exposed to fire, either.”

“Now you can see why we called you,” the officer said, “We found a note around her neck.”

The officer handed me a note, which seemed to be neatly printed, it read:

THIS IS CASSANDRA. GIVE HER CHARITY OR A BULLET. IT’S ALL THE SAME TO ME.

“H’mm.. Cassandra..the daughter of the gods. The Abblah has a sense of humor,” and as I speak, her shadow dawns on me, her shadow, same as the raven’s, the creature. “For she bears his mark.”

I notice the officer staring.

“Trouble yourself no more, Officer. I shall take her into my custody.”

“Gee – that’s big of you Professor. I’ll go find some clothes for her.

Afternoon

Cassandra and I are walking through Central Park once again. It has snowed, and she is amused at how she can see what she believes as smoke coming from her mouth as she exhales. I don’t have the time to explain the simplicities of life, only the complexities, because that’s what I know, it’s what I am.

We pass benches and shops and choirs with a priest singing hymns and not asking for spare change in return.

Cassandra seems content. She almost seems like a puppy running about and exploring everything, seeing every new sight and smelling every new smell all in their glory. We begin to come closer, closer to where she thought she might’ve woken up.

“Oh, no!” she cried

“What is it, Cassie?”

“The Man In Black!”

Looking over to where she is pointing, I see a cloaked figure, standing right underneath the tree, in the middle of Central Park. For a millisecond, it amuses me, until he raises his arms and the most terrible wind began to make the leaves swarm over him, and at that time, I realized this man was more than a mere scare tactic by the machines, he was a conjurer.

As the leaves fell, they turned to black rats, who charged at Cassandra, and I realized that it was her they wanted….the Abblah isn’t trying to protect her, he’s trying to kill her.

And that makes her my ally.

The rats closed in. Cassandra almost opened up, causing the winds to stir even more, and storms to close in, just as the rats came, they were suddenly killed by thousands of bolts of lightning, blasting down on all the creatures, killing them all.

In the aftermath, Cassandra was still standing and I, having been knocked to the ground, arise to see the Man In Black staring at Cassie, but when he realized that I had woke up, he fled.

“How did you do that?” I asked.

“I don’t know, “ she answered, “I’ve never done it before, I’ve never been frightened before.”

Home

We’re in my townhouse on the upper east side. I’m talking to Cassandra, telling her my theories about her.

“Cassie, I know this place you come from. I call it Leveticus.” “What’s it like?” she asks

I can hear an incoherent mumbling, and I pause to listen more closely. I can hear my doorman speaking and before he can return with me, I present myself. I see two police officers, and the priest, the priest from the park. “What do you want,” I ask.

“I have a document of guardianship signed by the city board of orphans giving Cassandra into my care.” He presents me with such a folder, bound together with a black strap.

“For what reason?” I demand.

“I saw what happened in the park. Clearly you are a devilish influence on this unblemished child of God.”

I stand bewildered. I am trying to say something, but I cannot.

“I have made inquiries about Cassandra. She is of unique purity and innocence. Kept away from carnal influences during the formative years of her life,” the priest says. Cassandra begins to rise from the couch, and the priest moves behind her, against the wall, opposite my large picture window. “Don’t be frightened, child, I’m here to save you.” At that moment, I can see it. The priest bears his mark. The mark of the machines. The mark of the Abblah. At once I fly into a rage. A fury. I grab the officer closest to me and throw him into the wall,

“Don’t listen to him, Cassie! He bears the shadow of the Abblah,” I scream, “He’s in league with the dark alien.” The officer behind me moans and says, “Hey, Evans, this guy’s some kind of nut!”

The officers begin to move in on me, holding my arms and dragging me away. “You don’t understand! She’s the key to a cosmic conspiracy! The subject of a demonic experiment….this so called reverand has been sent by..” My efforts are fruitless. The reverend continues to coo Cassandra.

“He is your father.” He says

“I have a father.” She asks

“Yes,” he says, “He is the father of us all and I am his servant.”

“My father has servants? He must be very rich.”

“His riches are boundless, Cassandra. He is the most loving of fathers…and he wants you to come with me. What do you say, Cassandra?”

Cassandra looks at the priest and then comes to me. She looks up at me with eyes too trusting. She doesn’t understand, she’s just fell for something so childish, so foolish and I am powerless to stop her.

“I’m sorry, Professor. I must go and meet my father.” The priest smiles at me, a sly one, and he leads Cassandra out, with the officers in sync behind. Poor child, I think. Little does she know that this God that priests like Wheeler worship is the sick demon the Abblah. Drunk with the pain of mankind. I have to respect Cassie’s free will. I can’t force my salvation upon her. That’s what the servants of the Abblah do. I am here to make sure that his servants rue the day that they crossed R.X. Gein.

The Streets

Here I am. Walking the alleys again. It’s really the only way that I can continue right now. I find myself at a baseball diamond, watching some teens playing baseball. All I can do is ease my pain in my work. For the unwitting agents of the Abblah are everywhere, even on this sports field, the demons are waiting. The shadow appears upon the next batter – Brad Jackson, science major and college baseball star, the all – american boy, hardworking and honest, the future looks good for Brad. Unfortunately, Brad’s future looks bad for the rest of mankind, which is why I must kill him. I see the probability lines converging over his head and by concentrating on them his future becomes clear enough. He will become a microbiologist and develop a strain of super fungus edible and incredibly fast growing in almost any climate. The perfect solution to the problem of the world’s starving millions.

He’ll receive the Nobel prize for his great work. Unfortunately, like many geniuses, he’s intensely stupid, perfect for the Abblah. It would never occur to him how his fungus would behave, if it were introduced into rivers, seas and farmland.

Within fifteen years, the fungus would invade the world’s oceans and land surfaces, turning the planet into a vast spongy slime and exterminating all other life forms, including mankind.

I head to the west side, back to Brad’s apartment to wait for him. I hate having to extinguish such a bright and youthful flame, but I must do what I must do to save the world.

I pick the lock to Brad’s apartment with ease. I walk inside and a woman gets up from the sofa and pulls a bottle of schnapps out of her hand bag.. “Brad honey, I stole a bottle out of the cabinet so tonight we can -..” I cut her off in mid – sentence, grabbing her by the throat. “Who the hell are you?” she gasps.

This is a regrettable complication. I should kill her too, but I can’t bring myself to do it, so I bound and gag her, and lock her in Brad’s bedroom closet. Inside, I find a wooden baseball bat, which I take, and then move to his bathroom, turning on the shower. I can hear the outside door open, as he lives on the first floor of the dorm, he is calling her name.

“Delores?…” he calls, he moves to the bathroom, I can hear his steps sounding closer.

“Ah! You’re in there you sexy doll,” he coyly plays, “Ok, baby. Here comes Brad! I like you hot, wet ‘n’ ready! As he opens the curtains, I can see his right eye already wide with surprise, but I know he’ll open them all the way, because he can’t stop himself as he sees me standing there with the bat. I know I must do this quickly, spare the boy as much pain as possible.

Quickly, I lash out with the bat, swinging it upward, into the upper right side of Brad’s head, he looks dazed, and stumbles backward, falling to the floor. I step out of the tub, and just as fast as he fell, he’s back on his feet, the small gash I left on his temple is now pouring blood. He tries to grab hold of me, but I step back.

“I don’t know who you are, freak,” he screams, “but it takes more than that to put Brad Jackson down.” I ram my forearm into his throat, pinning him against the wall, I shove my right index finger into his eye, and he screams while I scream, “I don’t have time for this nonsense!” Perhaps I should leave him blind. At least spare his young life?

No! The risk is too great. Working with a colleague he could still spawn the destructive fungus. I have no choice, his genius must be extinguished forever. I strike him three more times in the head with the bat, using my whole power. I know he is dead now. I feel no regret. The boy had to die. But knowing that doesn’t stop me shaking.

I move over to the desk, which has a bottle on it accompanied by a small rye glass. I pour myself a stiff drink. As I finish the phone rings. I answer, “Professor Gein…” “Cassie?!” I exclaim.

“I need to talk to you. I – I’m confused, I think I’m sinning.”

Just as I was about to answer her, just as I was about to say anything, I could hear Wheeler screaming and then the line went dead.

“Wheeler!!”

I take off into the streets, continually screaming his damned name.

“WHEELER!”

I kick open his front door, and I can hear Cassandra asking if it was me there, and I fled up the stairs to find Cassandra naked on the bed, his bed. Wheeler had a lavish red velvet robe draped over him, and he was yelling for Cassandra to cover up. He turned to me, and smiled.

“She must know the flesh in order to reject it. I’m teaching her which sins to avoid,” he said, “Get out of my house! As a servant of Cassie’s father, I command you to…” He couldn’t finish his sentence, because he was foolish enough to meet me halfway to the stairs and I kicked him off them. Not down, off.

Wheeler flew through the banister and about three floors down to the marble floor of the foyer. It all became quiet, so I went to Cassandra. “Professor, do you wish to teach me the sins of the flesh like the reverend,” she said, “What do you want me to do?”

I pick up a garment from the floor and hand it to her, “I want you to wear this and come with me.”

I lead her down the stairs, listening her tell me how confused she was, and how Wheeler was telling her that God, her father were to arrive, but never did. We reach the bottom, and Wheeler is making some kind of plea to some invisible source and it seems that it’s not working. His bloodied face and contorted features look nightmarish, and his screams sound it. As we leave, I can see the shadows, I can see the Abblah, closing in to finish him off.

Daytime

Cassandra and I are walking down a busy fifty-third avenue. It’s funny because it seems that we’re not even there, people all moving for us. I’m concerned about Cassandra. I don’t really know what to say to her, but I ask any way, “Are you o.k.,” I ask, “Did he hurt you?”

“Can we not talk about it,” She says, “I wish to forget about it as soon as I can.”

“Yes, yes, but, Cassandra, why didn’t you use your powers to defend yourself?”

“Well after he did it to me the first time, I discovered I’d lost my power. I’m like everyone else professor.” She sighed.

“No, Cassandra, you’ll never be like anyone else.” The Abblah intended Wheeler to kill her instantly, but he wasted time seducing her. I must be on my guard. For whatever purpose the Abblah wanted her for, it’s over and he wants her dead. If it’s that important to the Abblah that she die, then I must save her at any cost and this is good for me… …to save life, not take it.

We continue to walk down the streets and through the alleys, until three men in black coats and fedoras came toward us.

“The Men In Black,” Cassie exclaimed, “Run!” We’re running through the alleys now, and the Men have grown in numbers, I see a jutting alley, and push her into it.

“Down here Cassie, if we can double back on ourselves, perhaps we can-“

It was a dead end.

“Running away, oh really,” one of them said. “Surely you know us better than that. We could destroy you with a thought.” “I think not,” I replyed. “We all know it’s against the rules.”

They surrounded us, with the front man coming forward to speak face to face. “No, it’s you who’ve broken the rules, Professor. You are allowed to perform your mystical function, slaying the servants of the Master,” he continues, “But the girl is special, she is the personal property of the Abblah.”

My eyes widen and my pulse quickens. I withdraw the dagger which I’ve concealed in my coat before I came to get Cassie, “Stand back,” I scream, “This knife comes from Leveticus, and I know how to use it effectively against you.”

I wield the knife and everything becomes blindly bright, so bright. “Congratulations, pawn…you were meant to do that,” He said. “You’ve just opened the portal to Leveticus.”

The End?