A Never Ending Story

authors, writing workshop, marsocial

Group story from the Writers Workshop on MARSocial

This is a story being compiled by The Writer’s Workshop group on Marsocial

It’s a fun exercise and anyone in the group can contribute a couple of sentences whenever they like .  Who knows where the story will lead?  If you would like to take part or check out the site, you are more than welcome.

The story so far.

The car, with it’s heavy load, moved slowly through the darkness, no heavenly bodies illuminated the gloom filled night. Jake mopped his brow with the back of his huge hairy hand, his tear-stained red eyes glued to the road. All he had left in the  world rode with him, including the heavy sad memories of what used to be. He looked into the eyes of his only daughter in the back seat. Firmly strapped in.

“It won’t happen again,” he whispered to the monster haunting his memories. Before he had even finished wondering about unlocking the door to a better future for his daughter and himself, he looked up – the dark clouds had carelessly liberated the full moon! In the distance he could now see the faint glow of lights surrounding the port. Cutting thickly through his crowded thoughts, Jake wondered who would be waiting for him at the pier and hoped, beyond all reason, that the key would be on the ”Lewanda,” as promised. The yacht’s name resounded in his mind like the memory of his bad date with that French femme fatale.

His eyes still stinging, he checked the road behind him.  The slightest glint of light bounced briefly, as far back as he could see, then disappeared again. The force of the encroaching storm pounded on his bonnet as the deluge hailed down.  A sudden bolt of lightning lit-up the sullen night. Hysterical screams within the car competed with the angry symphony of thunder, sending waves of nausea throughout Jake’s weakened body.

Then, through the deluge, the lightning and thunder, the hysterical screaming, and yes, the nausea, omygod omygod omygod the nausea, he saw his destination: the 7-Eleven.
The dim lights up ahead beckoned him towards the small store. He edged slowly forwards. It had to be done, he had no choice. One word ran through his entire body… revenge.

As Jake ran his finger along the sharp edge of an axe, a sinister smile appeared upon his face.
At that moment he felt someone’s breath on the back of his head, and a quiet tap on the shoulder. Jake turned around but there was no one there. Into his nostrils wafted a strange smell, it was something grim and cold. He slashed repeatedly into the air with the axe, however it was in vain. Suddenly from a corner of the store came the flicker of candlelight, a hand sweeping across the flame sending a signal in morse code.

Jake didn’t know Morse Code but could decipher the message: FIND WHAT YOU SEEK BEHIND THE EMPLOYEES ONLY DOOR.  Every nerve in his body tingling,  he crept to the door, slapping the flat side of the hatchet repeatedly against his palms. He slammed open the door and found a coterie of bloody , headless, armless and eyeless 7-Eleven employees dangling from hooks or contorted on the concrete floor. He looked in vain for the bloated body of Wellington, the oaf that had fired him.

The skin at the back of Jake’s neck was tingling, and not just because of the air conditioning. He realized he had been deprived of everything, including the requital of vengeance. Jake split in two like an amoeba and hacked himself to death. Someone tapped his shoulder again. It was his daughter, now become an apparition, vampire or zombie. Her voice filled with evil and rancor, she told him, ”You’re in the wrong 7-Eleven.”
S.O.S – S.O.S. – S.O.S. and a voice hauntingly whispered, ”Journey south to Dover. Then across land to Canterbury. The secret lies in the cathedral’s archives.”

Jake scrubbed his hand over his eyes and down his stubbled face. He could no longer tell the hallucinations from the real. When he blinked the dismembered limbs seemed to move like animated zombie parts. Next time they were still in their pools of blood. He had nowhere to go now but to Canterbury, following the pilgrims’ route of old. He saw his daughter strapped in her car seat when he emerged, but when he turn the ignition, she was beside him; nineteen laughing and carefree, her blond curls bobbed as she laughed. As he bounced over the speed bumps blood poured from her eyes and fangs extended from her mouth. He blinked again and she was poking him the ribs, smiling sweetly and teasing him for getting them lost again.

As he drove nervously towards the boat, Jake kept his eyes peeled on the water from the high tide, slapping against the pier.  ”I’m drinking too much caffeine,” he thought, breaking open another energy drink, afraid to look at his daughter’s face.  The moon suddenly appeared from behind a cloud once more and the burning rage within him, fueled by the caffeine, tore through his veins like a molten fire. He could feel the monster awakening even more enraged and willing him – no! Taunting him to wreak more havoc. His daughter’s sweet angelic laugh reached his ears and his anger exploded…Straining every muscle in his whole body he howled eerily at the full moon.  Her voice resonated gradually like a diabolic incantation, leaving Jake caught between the overwhelming thirst for vengeance, and the increasingly apparent deterioration of his sanity.  Something was changing, and seemed to be getting worse, Jake wasn’t sure what was real anymore and as he looked at the dimly lit dials in the car they seemed to melt like a rendition of an old  Salvador Dali painting, the steering wheel felt soft then solid again he felt as though he was shifting from one dimension to another, was it in his mind or was this really happening……

At the sound of approaching sirens, Jake felt himself being sucked upwards through a narrow tunnel. The scene below him faded, until all that could be seen was a group of tiny bug-like objects, blue eyes blinking at the sky, surrounding his car. The last thought he had before losing consciousness was of his daughter.

Jake had no idea how long he was out. His mind was foggy and he had a sense of dread. Fear was beginning to rise in his throat.


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