The Core

Prologue

October 10th 1994

Warm fog hung across the air, stagnant and still, stifling any noise like a thick blanket. Numbing autumn chills enticed the silent deserters who found their way on to Burkland Street. Dusky morning skies begged to break through the fog. All that simply lay beaten down behind it was the orange haze of daybreak.

Under the 4 am eerie silence, a man found his way into no-man's land, not that he was aware. Stumbling along the cracked concrete-and scarring his feet through the eaten leather, the man endured a harsh walk of atonement; that's how it seemed as he pleaded for forgiveness. What else was the reason for the pain that began to burn within him, if it wasn't god-forsaken?

A black sting struck deep into his throat.  A callous and tenacious grip of -no, not a hand but something else-blockaded his nose and throat. Deprived of oxygen, the man snorted in failing breaths through his nose. No air, only the revolting fumes of whatever was choking him. Convulsions of every muscle failing on him left him contorting in agony as he tried to release the grip of whatever-whoever-was constricting him.

The beast did not weaken its lock on him.

Eyes bulging and nearly falling out of their sockets, the man's neck convulsed, trying to turn to see what imprisoned him. Churning whatever little he had in his stomach, the sight of it made the man's heart and mouth sink in fear as he saw eyes like pits of darkness, like a black hole, staring back at him. Smirking and snarling  down at the man in its grasp, it retorted with a malicious, malevolent smirk, bearing all of its  113 razor-edged, blades of teeth.

Seconds raced past as he strained to pull in each breath; straining to still feel his heart beat. Ragged and weak inhalations and exhalations left him witnessing vertigo, hacking for air. The more he tried to breathe, the further he strayed from consciousness, the further he was from the light of day.

Choking on the violent burning in his throat, the man dug his nails deep into his palms, carving half-moons into the surface as it began to fountain his blood from the surface. Burrowing deep into his temples, a pain so blindingly hot overwhelmed him and he slumped over.

Heaving heavenly air finally, the pounding deep in his chest and head finally silenced. Dazed and blinded, the world slowly began to become dark around him. The shadow slipped away walking with a sway in its floating steps as if it had the temerity to walk with an air of arrogance.

It became  a black blur in the thick fumes of fog, as if it left the traces of someone that was battling past the smoke.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Grasping on to the withering, moulding trees, his chest tightened-his breaths hastened. He hoped for the merciless hell-bound cause to be exorcised from him at last.

This was born of the devil's work, or worse. The evil struck in society by man.  Whilst the rest of the world silently slumbered in their safe beds, a stealthy, articulated yet merciless ambush took place at the front of their doors.   

Selfishly, he drew in the soothing cold air into his nostrils until he felt its sweet relief. Although that wouldn't be enough-not that he was aware. On the exhale, he heaved a tough and throaty cough, spluttering up fountains of blood that he felt he had been drained of.  Showering the grey corpse of land in front of him, he painted it brightly with his last essence of life.The sickening, burning, metallic aftertaste lingered in his mouth.

Pooled by his feet, the puddle began to spin. Oranges of the sky and his own scarlet liquid blurred together to envelope him; to carry him finally home. A single icy, rushing tear cascaded down his burning cheek as the man lay still, paralysed as his memories flashed behind his eyelids like a bright light as if a star imploded. Teeth gritted and jaw clenched, the man choked back on tears that would no longer fall, no more tears for the ache he felt for the young family he left behind. All warmth expelled away from him; a ravenous biting cold made itself home in his skin.

The world knew not of the beast, and knew not of his deep, dark, dirty secrets he hoarded in his heart. Terrifyingly ignorant of what was discovered, the world kept spinning as usual, except the man's world had suddenly stopped still. In his cold, callous hands, the man found the blood of several men. Those merciless hands-those weapons of murder, tools of destruction- had actualised the evil thoughts that swam in hell for millenniums. The core being of humankind and animals, their very soul, had escaped as beast opened the cage with its hands and swallowed away the key with blood in the cracks of its grin and the treasured intelligence that would die with it. Souls of thousands could be lost whenever the beast demanded. The concrete "laboratory" was the womb that knitted together evil to bring the extraction of souls into the world, only to have birthed the unholy beast into the world as a result.