The story of Dr. Mark and Mr. Dark

The Dreams of my madness

The surrounding City in the midst of twilight rose a bitter cold of mid-winter. The Dr. strolled through the less busy areas of the city of L.A, the excess of his long coat following behind. Seeming to be in a rush the young man strutted through the random crowds of drunks stumbling from one bar to the next. The distant laughs of drunk men stumbling around the town and backstreets filled the night air. Rough breaths escaped the distressed Doctor before falling to the ground, resting himself on a wall in an alley. "Mr. Fischbach, young sir" a middle-aged man stumbled on the Doctor lying on the ground among the rubbish. "Are you ok?" The stranger asked. Mark's vision and speech stirred. "Let me get you help Dr. Fischbach," the man said, helping him up. The Dr. gritted his teeth in anger. "Don't touch me" the Dr. mumbled under his breath. "What? Sir, we need to get you help" the man protested. Suddenly, without a work the Dr. grabbed a random metal pipe, laying on the ground, picked it up and smacked it over the man's head. kicking him to the ground. A wicked grin flashed on the Dr.'s face. "That's what happens when you don't listen," Mark said before smacking the pipe one again on the unconscious man's head several times as blood slashed from the impact, eventually leaving a deep, dark, red pool of blood. The Dr. was nowhere to be seen. , had seems he had run off before a group of townspeople stumbled on the body of the man.

~

As for the Dr, he had been in bed all week. no work had been completed, no food ate, no social meetings or gathering. He had been in bed all week. The Doctors presume the flu, nothing serious. This day Dr. Fischbach had been feeling much better, and soon grew to repent his bedroom. He hated being 'boarded' up in one place for too long. He likes to occupy his mind with various tasks such as his experiments. Today the Dr. was planning to take notes and samples of his latest experiment. But yet, still the reader has no idea what this anonymous experiment is, patients, patients make a good man, I like to say.

~

The young man sat down and his dining table, awaiting Breakfast to be delivered. Picking up the newspaper on his left-hand side of the table, never failing to deliver the greatest, most interesting news available. However, one story caught the Dr.'s eye;

One man found dead in the alley of a pub. The victim now reported as Mr. Paul Fischer, local coal miner, husband father of 3, Aged 33. Nearby civilians spotted the man, on a late night last week. Found in an alley, thought to be intoxicated, but was soon found to have a beaten skull, his body was found laying in a pool of his own blood...

The Dr. couldn't help but read on, further into the story of the victim, Yet to discover the horrifying connection between the murder of Mr. Paul Fischer. Finally, breakfast had come, just in time as the Dr. was starting to get hungry. The contents of the meal was promising;

2 eggs, 4 slices of bacon, a side of beans and 2 freshly baked breakfast waffles. The alluring smell of the Bacon mixed with the smell of other contents of the dish was amazing, enough to wake the dead. Grabbing the knife in his right hand after placing the fork in his left hand, Mark began cutting the freshly cooked bacon, along with the fried eggs.

~

Mixing the different colors of acid green and deep ocean blue, swirling the contents around in the beakers before finally pouring the blue watery type substance into the beaker with the green watery substance. before turning into a cyan liquid. The Dr, rubbing his bands together, walked over to the rest of the setup equipment. Grabbing the beaker with the cyan liquid inside, swirling it as he walked over to the orange pipes, connected here and there. Placing the beaker on a metal ring, supporting the beaker, making sure it wouldn't fall the Dr. then attached on of the orange pipes to the beaker, securing it correctly. "Okey dokey." The man said to himself, walking over to the wall on his right, before twisting the small valve, connecting with the pipes by the experiment. Twisting it with the smallest amount of effort leftwards. The eery sound of Gas entering the pipes towards the other equipment, the Dr. walked quickly over towards the table, turning on the Bunson Burners under each beaker, and test tube, changing the red and orange flame to a bright sea blue flame.

Suddenly, without expectation, a small array of red and orange fire expelled from the tip of the Bunsen. Soon after, making the liquids bubble. Standing up straight, The Dr. twisted the small nozzle from the thin metal tube connecting to each piece of equipment, releasing the bubbling liquids into the pipe, mixing together before dropping easily into one clear, empty beaker.

A few minutes had passed and now, finally the empty beaker was no more. Halfway full with a strange assortment of the mixture of colors. A glossy pink had formed from the mix, slightly glowing. "Strange," the Dr. said to himself. "Strange yet interesting." he completed, staring deep into the beaker as he stroked his thin beard. Mark soon snapped out of the trance the glowing pink liquid gave him, standing up straight, the Dr walked over to the valve, turning it the other way, cutting the Gas off. Mark trotted back to the Pink liquid, taking it off the metal ring that was holding it and walked over to a small clear are of the table to a small tray of vials, picking up a plastic dropper, squeezing some of the pink liquid from the beaker, and releasing it into one of the small, thin viles, Doing the same to the rest until the beaker was empty.

Many hours had it been since the start of the Dr's experimentation, he had securely hidden and locked away the viles in his secret safe. Mark, who was sleeping, had experienced a strange amount 'Dreams' since his reading of the murder in the paper earlier that morning. His heart pumping faster as thick drops of sweat dripped from his face, soaking his bedsheets beneath him. Unable to wake from the nightmare the Dr was in, his body jerked and tossed about the bed, whining and tensing, clawing at his neck like some sort of animal.

~

"No!- no, please don't hurt me, please!" the young, familiar girl, Octavia screamed. Nothing but a sinister laugh escaped Mark's mouth. No shred of pity, no fear just evil, the Devils work had indoctrinated the young man's mind. Out of the blue, the Dr screamed loudly, not out of madness, but from pain. Midway through, about to slice the young, fresh skin of the woman the man collapsed to the ground, dropping the knife and clutching his neck, scratching at it. It was seeming to be he couldn't breathe. Kicking on the ground, his legs grinding against the damp, concrete ground underneath the Dr. Allthough the young lady was petrified she couldn't help but feel pity for the man. "Mark, are you ok?" she asked the Dr, already knowing the answer. One hand on the Dr's left shoulder, she asked again, "Mark, please. I'll help you get help." She pleaded. The Dr. now calming down from the sweet words from Octavia, breathing breathlessly, staring into the deep eyes of Octavia. "I-I'm ok now." He said still staring into her eyes, as so did she before reaching his right hand up towards her face. The girl smiled suddenly before a sharp blade, a knife, in fact, penetrated her neck. A look of shock and fear sunk the girls face quickly before falling to the ground beside Mark, choking on a large amount of blood exiting her mouth. "W-why?" the girl managed to say. The Dr. sat up from the ground, towering over the girl. Leaving a few moments to structure his explanation the dry spoke. "You'll see," he said before pulling out the knife from her blood shed neck, slitting her throat. Octavia let out few struggled attempts of breaths, trying to hold on for her dear life, her hands entangling her neck, now coated with her dark blood, her legs grazing the ground. A single, small, clear tear escaped the girl's left eye as her struggling slowly decreased, her breathing falling slower, and more silent before stopping dramatically silent as the tear slowly travels down the pale, soft skin, onto her neck, mixing with the blood.

~

"NO!" the Dr screamed in fear as he found himself in his bed. The room dark as Hell itself. He quickly checked his hands, looking for any signs of blood, as his heart beating fast, "Oh thank God." Mark huffed, regaining his breath. As he sat there, in his lonely, cold bed. The Dr. thought to himself 'What was that dream about, was it a sign, perhaps I; myself is going mad, perhaps not.' thinking as he sat there. Thanking God that it was not real, or is it.