A Touch of Hope

Chapter 5 - Death

"So this was death" mused Flipsey. He had often contemplated death. Faced with the day to day horror that was his life he had always had a very close relationship with death. Once or twice he had considered it for himself as a means of release, but seeing the pain and regret on the faces of those butchered, he had quickly pushing any ideas of this to one side. There had always been a way to move on, to improve, to fix things. Clearly the optimism had been missed placed has he had not been able to improve anything before his untimely death. In fact things had only seemed to be moving in one direction, skipping bad and moving straight into nightmare. That gave him a glimmer of hope, maybe this was just a nightmare, but no his body seemed far too real. It was the unfairness of it all that gripped Flipsey within the first few moments. How impossible his death had been. His prey had simple disappeared and the wall had simply appeared out of the mist. There was nothing he could have done, no matter how fast his reactions. It was this unfairness that was forced out of Flipsey's wretched body with one bloodcurdling scream. Off in the distance the anguished cries of the dammed screamed back. Fear gripped Flipsey, expelling the feeling of unfairness. He had never considered a hell. He was a simple man who has always assumed here was just a black nothingness after death. It was now that his brain was filled with the horror of endless torture, perhaps even to levels matching that of the police. A presence could be felt behind Flipsey, paralysing him with fear. The presence moved closer and closer, forcing darkness and fear to seem into the very fabric of Flipsey's mind. He screamed again out of sheer fear. The voices of the dammed in the distance screamed back again. The presence was so close now that its breath could be felt, freezing the very fibre of Flipsey's being. His hairs stood on end. The darkness behind him coiled up ready to strike, to begin the eternity of torment and suffering. Even the dammed in the distance were quiet. He was doomed to spend forever in the darkness being tortured. Flipsey paused. He was missing something. Something didn't seem quite right, but he couldn't think what it was. It was then that it occurred to him. Why would a supernatural being such as a demon need to breathe? Spinning around with lightening fast reactions, Flipsey smashed the full force of his fist into the darkness behind him. His power was immense, the full force and extension of his arm, the driving power of his back muscles and the energy of the spin all concentrated into one fist. He didn't even need power assistance. Half expecting his punch not to land, when it connected with the soft flesh of a face, Flipsey was rather pleased. The dark presence recoiled back and doubled over, so at least it felt pain. The last of Flipsey's doubts were expelled as his eyes adjusted to the light. He was standing in a small simple room with no lights. The floor was rough, poorly laid concrete that showed a lot of erosion. Small weeds shot up through cracks, and in the corner, much of the floor had crumbled away to revealed the hard, compressed dirt underneath. All 4 walls were comprised of brickwork matched the buildings outside and the wall that Flipsey had seemed to hit. The bricks showed a similar level of decay as the floor. In areas some were missing, the cement has cracking and even that had weeds growing through. At the foot of the walls, brick red dust and brick fragments lay after raining down from the walls, smashed into a puzzle of impossible difficulty. A standard mop with a well worn, long wooden handle lay propped against one corner, the ragged head lay rotting into a dank puddle that stank of mildew. From the worn but smooth wooden ceiling above, a single drop came spiralling down, joining the puddle underneath it with a satisfying splosh. As Flipsey looked around him he realised that what he had confused with the screams of the dammed was actually his own screams bouncing back down the alleyway. Looking at his entrance, expecting to see a door or an opening of some kind, he was both shocked and impressed to see the seemingly unrelenting brick surface. Upon closer inspection, it seemed to shimmer slightly, giving away to Flipsey's trained eye a hologram, something he would never have noticed running at the speed he had been. Turning his attention back to the figure bent double in the centre of the room, Flipsey was disappointed to see that the figures face was obscured by a brown woollen hood, a part of the long brown woollen gown that adorned the figure. Around their waist was tied a fancy golden rope. In the persons hand was the smooth sleek camo drone that Flipsey had been chasing, the oblong shape fitting perfectly into the figures hands as they clasped the face.

"What did you do that for?!" exclaimed the figure through muffled hands. The pitch revealing that it was indeed a woman.

Flipsey stood quiet in guilty silence, quite unsure how to answer such a question. It had been a very powerful punch. Straightening up, the woman gestured towards the plain wooden door behind her with her bloody hands. Flipsey had missed the door upon his previous inspection of the room, partly due to the woman's body hiding it and partially due to the way the door blended seamlessly with the wall.

"Go through the door Gary, we've been expecting you"