When the Lights Go Out: MAN OF MEDAN [The Dark Pictures Anthology]

i. brother dear

20 June 2019

They were screaming. They were all screaming.

After that, there was silence.

No one was screaming anymore because everyone had died. Right in the heart of the infamous Ourang Medan. The last thing I saw before everything went black was a ship full of dead soldiers.

My eyes slowly fluttered open to see a middle-aged man looking at me, smiling.

"Ah, you're awake." He says.

As I frantically search my surroundings, I couldn't help but stare at the mysterious man in front of me who is lighting the candelabra.

Who is this man?

Where am I?

What am I doing here?

All these questions kept circling in my mind and I am not sure what to seek answer for first. But then I remember what happened before this.

I was on my way to my front door when I realized that it was unlocked, though I could have sworn I locked it before leaving. I was so sure there was an intruder. I slowly crept inside when a man opened the lights for me.

"Eek!" I shrieked.

He was sitting comfortably in my armchair, looking at me amused in my antics.

"You're Elaine Marshall, are you not?" His English accent was dripping over his velvety voice and somehow, it was luring me in. Though he was clearly older, you wouldn't have the reason to deny that he is indeed attractive, especially those light blue eyes piercing through me. He was wearing a black bowler hat, a brown and long trench coat. He also had leather gloves. All in all, he seemed really elegant.

"Y-Yes, that's me. Who are you? How do you know my name?"

That was the last thing I uttered before my vision went dark and a succession of gruesome events unfolded in front of my eyes. I was terrified, and it felt like I was in the ship with the soldiers, fleeing from a monster. After that, I awoke to this.

The man then looked at me with a huge smile on his face.

"Hello. And welcome... to my repository." He then took the candelabra and went straight to a bookshelf.

"Who are you?" I asked him, my voice cracking. I couldn't get up from where I was sitting and all I could do was wiggle and try to break loose from my invisible restraints.

"Calm down, Ms. Marshall, or perhaps it would be better for the both of us if I call you Elaine now. Nothing will happen if you continue to squirm in your seat." The man returned and placed the candelabra and book on his table.

I somehow managed to calm down and took deep breaths. After my breathing returned a little near to its normal state, I felt like I was no longer restrained. I could move my body freely without the feeling of being literally glued to my seat. I looked around. The room was dark and the only light source was the candelabra and the open windows above and at the side, and they weren't enough. I was sat in a very soft green armchair, matching the man's outfit.

"I am The Curator. The Curator of Stories. Stories of love and hate... greed and beauty... life... and death." The 'Curator' took a seat, still looking at me dead in the eyes. "Stories such as this one." He then opened the book.

His table looked exceedingly gothic, or rather macabre. To his right side, there was a skull, another candle, a stack of books, and a picture frame that looked to be on the left side of my perspective. The candelabra from before, as well as another book, were to his left. The entire area had a large bookshelf full of interesting stories to tell. I'd think he was a lonely man in love with books if he hadn't told me he was a curator. And, apparently, skulls. Another thought occurred to me: who was the owner of the skull?