By Chance Or By Choice

By Chance Or By Choice: Part 3

Even at night, there was no peace to be had. The bells on the scarecrows jangled, failing to do any scaring – instead, they rattled uselessly as the birds kept pecking.

"Piss off, you little swines!" Mac pitched a stone towards them, one eye shut to help his aim. It was no use though – the whiskey got the better of him and the stone landed some ten feet to the right of the crows. He rolled his eyes, and chose to remedy the situation with another long sip of liquor.

At least out here in the fields he was safe from Swan's berating. He loved that woman dearly, but some rumours of snow had set her all hysterical. He took a long drag on the rolled tobacco between his fingers. No matter the ominous warnings, nothing ever ruffled Mac's feathers, and that seemed to panic Swan further. You'd be smiling if the Great Flood came a second time! That's what she always told him in the face of his cheeriness.

The smoke curled up into the night air in sleepy tendrils. He watched them peacefully, but something made his heart skip.

All across his arms, darkness spread.

He blinked repeatedly, but the dark marks remained. No – dark letters. He stared, mouth open. The letters formed words.

MAC ASHDOWN IS KANG YUCHAN!

A noise of fear escaped Mac as he sat bolt upright on the wall. Eyes like saucers, he watched the same words appear all over his skin. MAC ASHDOWN IS KANG YUCHAN, MAC ASHDOWN IS KANG YUCHAN, MAC-

"Jesus wept." Mac held up his glass suddenly, staring at the amber contents in shock. "What's in this stuff?" Ignoring the words, he drained the glass.

He should probably stop drinking this stuff anyway – James and his home-brewed toxins were bound to have him seeing some strange things. And his father had always been telling him to drink less.

At the thought of his father, Mac was immediately filled with the same old conflicting emotions. The first was anger, and it crackled round his veins like a current. It had been some years since he had finally walked out of his family home, but the years of his strict upbringing and the way his father pushed him hard – too hard – when he was just a boy still stung. Don't end up like me. That had always been his father's excuse.

But the static dissipated like always, and left a dull sadness in its wake. Somewhere hidden beneath it all, he still loved his father dearly. Mac could just never forgive how he had been pushed away.

He took a final sigh of smoke into his lungs. The hallucinations faded away and contentment settled back in.

It was only a brief moment of calm. With sudden clamour, the crows let out a series of squawks, jumping into the air and taking off on perturbed wings. And with it came footsteps. Mac turned to see his old friend Fabio running towards him.

"Eh? What are you doing here so late? Did-" For a moment the whiskey blurred his memories; he had been about to ask if Fabio had had a spat with Katrina. But he caught himself - the latest spat had earned Fabio a slap and a likelihood he would never see the girl again. It was nothing new – Katrina was just the latest in the string of women Fabio had been caught up with.

Before he had even greeted him, Fabio grabbed Mac's arm and wrenched it forward.

"Wah- hey! What are you doing..?" Fabio said nothing, instead he pushed back the sleeve on Mac's coat, ignoring his protests. From somewhere on his person, he pulled out a feather and a pot of ink. He pressed the nib against his own hand. "Fabio, what the-"

But the words died on Mac's lips. As the ink left a line on Fabio's skin, so did a line appear on Mac's.

This time, Mac panicked completely.