THE
BOSTON STTRANGLEE
BY SIMON HESELTINE
I felt the fingers clasp around
my neck, rough fingers with jagged nails digging deep into my skin,
trying to crush the very life from my throat. I gasped for air, none
came. Time slowed… crawled… and then stopped. The dark night faded
away, replaced by a bright light. I no longer smelt the ever-present
odor of fish that had been all around since before I was a small child.
I could no longer hear the sound of the rain pattering away on the
ground around me, or splashing from the gutters of the empty stores
on Macabay street. I could no longer see the shadowy outlines of the
cats as they leapt from roof-top to roof-top in search of whatever
night pleasures they could find on this cold, wet night. My mind raced.
I found myself thinking of my parents. My father, the sensible captain
of ‘La Bastille’ a boat, as he would tell me, named in honor of the
people who had helped our nation at a time of need. He was a strong,
proud man with bright blue eyes, as deep as the ocean, stubble that
rubbed my face whenever he picked me up to hold me close, and arms
that felt as though they could protect me from whatever the world
could throw at me. He would be gone for days at a time, but would
always return with a twinkle in his eyes, a song on his lips, and
some new treasure for me - ‘his treasure’.
I found myself thinking
of that morning, in my twelfth year, when there was a knock at our
door, a quiet doleful knock that we almost didn’t hear. My mother
opened the door, rubbing the flour from her hands on her apron (it
being a Friday, she had been baking bread the entire afternoon, how
wonderful the house smelt, I can almost taste the fresh bread now,
warm from the oven, sweet yet slightly salty). Joe Moran, a member
of my father’s crew, stood there, twisting his cap in his hands, his
usually sour face pointed down, his eyes locked on some unseen point
on the ground as though the medusa herself was standing there, ready
to turn him to stone should he gaze upon her. My mother took one look
and knew the full story in an instant, she knew that my father was
gone. She knew that she would never see his face again, never feel
his embrace again, never speak to him of things unspoken, never spend
the rest of her life with him. Not knowing why, I watched her body
begin to convulse, I saw her the color drain from her face, and saw
her knees begin to crumple. I watched as Joe reached out to her, too
late. Soundlessly she fell to the ground.
I found myself thinking
of Sophie Gulwinny. She was a girl that I had known in grade school.
She was not a pretty thing, but then again she was not ugly, she could
more fairly be described as a plain, average looking child. She was
not popular in the school, some of the other children claimed that
she was possessed by the devil (my mother told me to ignore such nonsense,
and explained that Sophie was a sickly child, afflicted with occasional
fits, and there but for the grace of god went I). One Spring day I
was sitting in the school yard, talking to my two best friends (we
were inseparable, people used to call us the three troubles, but in
a good natured sort of way)… curious, I can’t remember their names,
but I remember Sophie’s… anyway, we were sitting there, talking about
matters of great importance, or at least matters of great importance
for 10 year olds, when I noticed Sophie, standing all alone next to
the brick wall of the main school building. She was wearing a blue
dress, with a white bow sewn into the left shoulder. The dress had
a flowered pattern on it - daisies, with white petals, and yellow
centers. I looked at her blank face, and saw her eyes began to flicker.
After a moment they rolled up into her head, it appeared as though
some unseen puppet master had taken a knife to her strings. Soundlessly
she fell to the ground.
I found myself thinking of nothing. I felt
the fingers clasp around my neck. Soundlessly I fell to the ground…
Gasping, I awoke. I looked around. I was back in my room in Alliance
headquarters. My breathing eased. I could feel the sweat dripping
from every part of my body. Where the hell did that nightmare come
from? I’m from Bradford, Yorkshire, England, the closest I’ve been
to Boston is here in Paragon City. But it had seemed so real. Suddenly
I noticed a bitter, acrid taste in my mouth, and I ran to the sink
in my bathroom. Hunched over it, I spat, red liquid gathered in the
sink. I started running the taps to wash it away. I looked in the
mirror. My teeth were stained with blood. I splashed water on my face,
and looked into the mirror once more. Horrified, I noticed something
else. My eyes widened. I felt my hands grabbing at the front of my
t-shirt, pulling it down to expose my neck. In the mirror I saw marks
around my throat, marks that looked like a large pair of hands had
tried to strangle me. Suddenly I saw a face in the mirror right behind
me, a face so cruel that it could barely be described as human. The
face sneered at me and mouthed something that I couldn’t hear, I wheeled
round ready to throw a thorn at the intruder. There was nobody there.
It was then that I screamed…
He thirstily drank the fear, it had been
a long time since any emotion had entered His lipless mouth, He let
the anger and humiliation drip down his chin, before He wiped at them
with His taloned hand, which He then licked, savoring every succulent
drop. The imprisonment that had followed His defeat to Her had seemed
like it had gone on forever, for time had no meaning here. He didn’t
know how He’d been released, but there had been a flash of dark light,
and His bonds were gone. However it’d happened it didn’t matter, all
that did matter was that there were emotions to feast on. That first
one had been especially sweet, but had not yet sated His hunger, it
was now time to go for another. Scanning His realm, He saw the glow
of many dreams, He plucked the closest one from the ether, and entered
it. Inside He saw a young man, wearing a gray military uniform of
some kind, walking through a flowered field, holding hands with some
long lost love. With a wave of His hand the man became a young boy,
the flowers withered and died, and the field becoming a foul smelling
battlefield. The woman’s body writhed and twisted, maggots began crawling
from her flesh, as it began to peel off her bones. As her body fell
to the ground, the terrified child screamed. He smiled, it was time
to feast once more, and this time She would not stop Him…
****Yorkshire
Rose Personnel file addendum****
AoH membership: Alternative Alliance
general member
AoH status change: From Active to Leave of Absence
Note: Yorkshire Rose has been placed on gardening leave with immediate
effect. She was found 2 days ago screaming uncontrollably in her room.
When she was eventually placated she haltingly explained that she’d
had a dream that had somehow turned into reality. She kept claiming
that she had marks on her neck as proof, but nobody else could see
the marks. We ran tests on her, and her room, using technical and
mystical means, but found nothing. She has not slept since the incident,
and has started wearing a scarf to hide the ‘marks’ on her neck. The
AoH leadership council decided that it would be for the best for her
to take a break from the constant battle against evil in Paragon City,
so she left today for Bradford International Airport, to stay with
her family, until she feels that she is able to return to headquarters.
The Alliance will be paying for any treatment that she requires.
A-Zay
***End Addendum***