Read Online Acolyte (The Wildermoor Apocalypse Book 1) by Chris Tetreault-Blay - Free Book Online
Authors: Chris Tetreault-Blay
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this man, whoever he was. ‘Or were you simply looking for someone to blame for your own sins?’
Dexler stared into the mirror chastised, at first unable to respond. The reflection altered to show a great fire, the sounds of torturous pain hidden within. The picture became clearer until he knew he recognised the house that was being devoured by the flames. He suddenly realised that the mirror was replaying scenes of his own tortured memories.
The humming sound became more of a pulse, growing louder as Dexler started into the fire once more.
*****
‘No-one ever wanted to believe me when I spoke of him,’ Dexler said, his voice breaking as he struggled to hold back tears. He sat perched on one of the end corners of the small cot, vulnerable. The old man remained where he stood, body not moving, hands clasped together, looking down at Dexler’s sorry form. The strength he had exuded when he had first seen himself in the mirror had begun to fade and he was shrinking back within his true self. ‘When they found me at the house as it burned, and I said it wasn’t me, that a man of shadow had caused it, they looked at me as if I were confessing my guilt. I had no guilt for the crime, as I didn’t commit it.’
‘Nor did you feel guilt or remorse for the death of your father that day,’ the old man offered.
Dexler bowed his head in an act that could have been perceived of shame, had it not been for the slimy smile that slithered over his lips.
‘He had it coming,’ he returned, for the first time sounding like the criminal he had been labelled as.
‘Maybe, but does the moral and criminal standing of one justify the acts of another?’ This was not a question that required, nor received, a response. ‘Your whole life has been spent trying to find excuses for your sins and others to blame. Is that why you are so unsure of His existence now? Do you think you are at last facing up to your own role in all of your crimes?’
He was being tested, Colin thought, that was all. This was merely a rehearsal for when the police finally found him. His time would be up soon, that was unavoidable, but he was not about to show weakness.
‘For so long I have been told that He doesn’t exist,’ Colin responded calmly and with conviction, ‘that he is merely a product of my traumatic youth.’ The last two words were spat rather than spoken.
‘Is that what you believe or simply what you had been led to believe? How can you be so sure of yourself now?’
‘Madness exists merely in those around us; not in our own minds. You – this – are merely a product of my own cognitions.’
The old man smiled coldly. It was at this point that Colin noticed something strange and unnerving about the figure. Two dark, empty spheres rested where his eyes should have been. Life seemed to exude from this man everywhere else but his eyes, the windows to his soul, were pitch black.
‘Who are you?’ Colin asked breathlessly.
‘Who I am and where you are is not important. It is not why you are here, if you even believe you are here at all.’
Colin shook his head and his gaze shifted to the floor. He couldn’t look at those empty pits any longer.
‘I do not know where I am anymore.’
‘You are where you belong.’
The pulsing in the background was now getting stronger, resonating deep inside Dexler’s ears and burrowing into his mind. He felt his head throb, the pain in his temples flaring with each beat.
‘What is that sound? What is this place?’ he pleaded.
‘Neither is important’ the man replied coldly.
Colin covered his ears with his hands, pushing tightly against them to block out the pulsing that was ringing in his mind, making it ache. The throbbing of this sound started to ease as the thrum slowed. Almost reduced to tears, Colin repeated
‘Madness exists merely in those around us; not in our own minds. Madness exists merely in those around us; not
Dexler stared into the mirror chastised, at first unable to respond. The reflection altered to show a great fire, the sounds of torturous pain hidden within. The picture became clearer until he knew he recognised the house that was being devoured by the flames. He suddenly realised that the mirror was replaying scenes of his own tortured memories.
The humming sound became more of a pulse, growing louder as Dexler started into the fire once more.
*****
‘No-one ever wanted to believe me when I spoke of him,’ Dexler said, his voice breaking as he struggled to hold back tears. He sat perched on one of the end corners of the small cot, vulnerable. The old man remained where he stood, body not moving, hands clasped together, looking down at Dexler’s sorry form. The strength he had exuded when he had first seen himself in the mirror had begun to fade and he was shrinking back within his true self. ‘When they found me at the house as it burned, and I said it wasn’t me, that a man of shadow had caused it, they looked at me as if I were confessing my guilt. I had no guilt for the crime, as I didn’t commit it.’
‘Nor did you feel guilt or remorse for the death of your father that day,’ the old man offered.
Dexler bowed his head in an act that could have been perceived of shame, had it not been for the slimy smile that slithered over his lips.
‘He had it coming,’ he returned, for the first time sounding like the criminal he had been labelled as.
‘Maybe, but does the moral and criminal standing of one justify the acts of another?’ This was not a question that required, nor received, a response. ‘Your whole life has been spent trying to find excuses for your sins and others to blame. Is that why you are so unsure of His existence now? Do you think you are at last facing up to your own role in all of your crimes?’
He was being tested, Colin thought, that was all. This was merely a rehearsal for when the police finally found him. His time would be up soon, that was unavoidable, but he was not about to show weakness.
‘For so long I have been told that He doesn’t exist,’ Colin responded calmly and with conviction, ‘that he is merely a product of my traumatic youth.’ The last two words were spat rather than spoken.
‘Is that what you believe or simply what you had been led to believe? How can you be so sure of yourself now?’
‘Madness exists merely in those around us; not in our own minds. You – this – are merely a product of my own cognitions.’
The old man smiled coldly. It was at this point that Colin noticed something strange and unnerving about the figure. Two dark, empty spheres rested where his eyes should have been. Life seemed to exude from this man everywhere else but his eyes, the windows to his soul, were pitch black.
‘Who are you?’ Colin asked breathlessly.
‘Who I am and where you are is not important. It is not why you are here, if you even believe you are here at all.’
Colin shook his head and his gaze shifted to the floor. He couldn’t look at those empty pits any longer.
‘I do not know where I am anymore.’
‘You are where you belong.’
The pulsing in the background was now getting stronger, resonating deep inside Dexler’s ears and burrowing into his mind. He felt his head throb, the pain in his temples flaring with each beat.
‘What is that sound? What is this place?’ he pleaded.
‘Neither is important’ the man replied coldly.
Colin covered his ears with his hands, pushing tightly against them to block out the pulsing that was ringing in his mind, making it ache. The throbbing of this sound started to ease as the thrum slowed. Almost reduced to tears, Colin repeated
‘Madness exists merely in those around us; not in our own minds. Madness exists merely in those around us; not
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