Written by J. Luis Licea. Check out his Facebook page and follow him on Twitter!
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Darvin had never roamed into the dark before, but he knew it was inevitable. Every night he came back to bed, the book called for him to touch it. It wasn’t an old, robust book; it was actually new, untouched, unread, virgin. That all would change soon; Darvin was willing to read it; willing to suffer. He knew he had to finish reading once seeing even the first word; he was familiar with the consequences all quitters faced. He felt brave. However, he had always been, and forever would continue to be a coward.
He wanted to read the book to get revenge. Revenge on the one person he loved most: himself. Gaining power was an option, but after many years of suffering, fumbling on the paths he walked, gaining power was a requirement.
The night Darvin decided to finally touch the virgin book, everything for him changed. He grabbed it, shaking, thinking about his bravery, telling himself what a coward he was. Covering his eyes with his fragile eyelids, he turned the front cover. He could feel evil hiss around him as it escaped and engulfed the room with a cool, chilly sensation, hungry for the new victim.
As his stomach consumed itself with its own acid, Darvin began to read: “The exercise of magic comes from two effects, positive and negative. For there to be positive, there must be negative. You must provide the positive and entwine yourself with the energy of the words you read. From now forth, these words, and the energy you provide, must combine and become a balanced energy; a powerful energy. Now I speak directly to you, must you chose to read on or stop. Once the mixing begins, pulling out the positive energy will have a breaking effect.”
Darvin closed the book as fast as he could, closed his eyes, opened them and stared at the darkness outside his window. The evil in his room whispered in traumatic moans. Tsk! Tsk! Tsk! He heard. Tsk! Every light in the house went out. Darvin ran to the window, thirsty for specks of any kind of light. He could feel it behind him…he could feel it. Screaming, he turned around, away from the opaque crystal window. He could feel it standing in front of him, but couldn’t see it, as it was darker than dark. He was familiar with the consequences all quitters faced. He screamed again, tears running down his face, legs shaking, soul ready to part away.
“I will continue. I will continue! Give me one last chance! I beg of you! Give me one last change,” Darvin found himself on his knees saying.
The darkness groaned pleasantly.
Darvin bowed his head as much as he could and waited. Emptiness ran freely across his body. He looked up the very moment the lights came back on. He could see the shadow disappear from the middle of the room like a cube of ice under the sun, but gone completely it was not. Behind, the shadow left a creature. A creature with the face of a monkey with long, bright, yellow fangs; a silky black fur, and a two-meter long tail that snaked around it.
The creature ran to the corner of the room, its tail followed gently, and sat there, waiting for the victim to continue his journey. Darvin ran to the book, keeping an eye on the creature that smiled at him with yellow fangs. He read further into the book and finished the introduction. After looking at the nams of the twenty-seven sections the book mentioned, he hauled his sight to the creature, but it was not there.
Smiling to himself, Darvin put the book aside. But the creature was not gone; it was making itself comfortable around his feet. Darvin gasped and tried to get the book back. But he knew it was too late. He looked down at the creature that had the face of a monkey, silky black fur, and a two-meter long tail as it smiled at him with bright, yellow fangs.
“Ouch!” Darvin shouted with all his might. “You, Fuck! Son of a bitch! Bitch! You…” He hopped on one leg as pain and venom from the creature’s fangs dripped from the other.
The creature smiled with charisma and ran towards him.
“Fucking stay away!” he shouted, pointing at the creature, knowing it was too late. Death had begun to crawl on him through the wound on his foot.
The creature began following him as he hopped around the room. He didn’t know what to do, how to stop the pain, how to undo what had begun. He hopped towards an empty chair that sat near the window; the creature ran to him, yellow fangs out. He took rest, looking down at both of his feet as they drooled with venom and pain, shivering as death crawled up on him; it was now at his knees. He was familiar with the consequences all quitters faced.
“I knew I would finish,” he said, looking at the smiling creature, feeling how death took rest at his abdomen.
He had finally accomplished revenge. He liked the feeling, the pain, not knowing when his soul would part completely. As death arrived at the beginning of his rib cage, he could finally see what he had done: a letter of goodbye and a broken pen sat where he thought the book he mustn’t read was; a bright, yellow dawn peeking through the opaque crystal of the window; and a bloody knife in his hand.
A pool of blood grew bigger under his feet. He had cut himself as he battled the creature that haunted him every night: the book that must be finished once begun.
Darvin looked around his room for the last time as death took shelter in his heart. He had written his story, had nothing else to tell. On he parted, and left no trace, except the new book waiting on a desk, calling…calling…calling your name.
