Whispers In The Black

Supernatural Stories | Mar 2, 2012 | 4 min read
44 Votes, average: 4 out of 5
Supernatural Stories

Whispers In The Black

Not all old books smell the same, at least not to someone like me, vanilla tones, the tang of acid, the underlying suggestion of dark forest floors. I have a predilection toward books of the occult. Rare works of the genre being of particular interest. Such books emanate less tangible odours. You might suppose they reek of the grave. Shout bloody murder…but no, they are more subtle. Sulphur, bones, gallows and decay are as insubstantial as a mayfly farting. Yes, arcane books are a passion of mine. Whenever I can spare a moment, I seek for them. That is how I came to be in an enchanting little second hand bookshop just off the high street in a small Kentish town.

The brass shop bell above the door tinkled announcing my entrance into the premises. On the walnut hallstand, a duffle coat hung inside out, a signal that it was safe to come in. I caught sight of my reflection within a bevelled mirror. I half expected the hungry eyed bony apparition in the faded greatcoat to act independently. As usual, he second-guessed my every move mimicking the self-conscious way I ran my fingers through my tangled grey hair, the tentative touch of my fingers on the stubble mottling my jawline. My throat tightened as the eyes of the man in the mirror widened. The hairs on the back of my neck tingled and squirmed. A low indefinable hissing had entered my head burrowing deep like a tinnitus worm. I turned, seeking the source of this subtle invasion.

"Get out of my head you little rat," I said latching on to the probing psychic link. Driving my own carrier wave rebuttal laced with some nasty, but temporary hallucinations back to the sender.

Raymond, the shopkeeper, ducked out from behind a curtain covered doorway at the rear of the shop. His hands flicked the air above his head in an attempt to ward off the dark visions only he could see.

"Serves you right, Raymond," I felt no pity for the man even when his panic reduced him to a paroxysm of coughing.

If cancer had a name, it would be Raymond. A slight, effeminate creature of yellow complexion, limp strands of dyed black hair adhered to the crown of his liver spotted head. Dark ochre stained fingers described a powerful tobacco addiction, a walking incubator of disease. I shuddered to think what domestic arrangements lay behind that curtain.

Raymond crept forward wringing his hands, the archetypical lackey.

"I am very sorry, Mr. Fish, I had to be sure it was you."

"Yes, never mind that. Do you have the book?" I asked. Raymond nodded a sly smile twisting his thin lips.

I watched him as he weaved his way around higgledy-piggledy stacks of books. They sprouted from the threadbare carpet like dusty stalagmites. Every so often, he would jerk his head as if he had seen something from the corner of his eye. He paused at one of the many Shelves towering up to the ceiling. It bowed under the weight of countless volumes.

"It arrived yesterday Alexander, a house clearance I believe. Previous owner died, sudden like. Most providential don't you think?"

"Please don't use my first name, Raymond." I said casually reaching into my coat pocket I pulled out a pair of kidskin gloves as Raymond withdrew a book from one of the shelves. He carried it over and with all the reverence he could muster, offered it to me.

My eyes settled upon the book I now held. It smelt like Anthracite, rich intoxicating, reminiscent of childhood. The rough brown cover was animal skin. It is rare indeed to possess a book not written by human hands.

Once you apply yourself to the research as I have, it becomes apparent that finding Unicorn droppings in your back garden would be more likely.

I have tracked down only two before now, ‘The Sinistrum Codex and the Blind Star Prophecy.' Now, here at last, I have the book called ‘Whispers in the Black.'

My finger traced the gilded fore edge then pressed harder, the paper yielded. As the book opened, something slipped from between its leaves and fell at my feet.

I reached down to retrieve it. I felt giddy with excitement. In my left hand the book, in my right a sealed envelope, written upon the envelope in cursive script one word, "Thukee."

"The key?" repeated Raymond erroneously. "Oh, I like keys, Alexander. May I see it?"

I carefully tore open the envelope and dropped the contents into Raymond's outstretched hand… A petrified worm similar in size and appearance to a leather jacket grub lay in Raymond's palm. He looked up into my face, his eyes wide and questioning.

"It is not a key, Raymond. It's Thukee. I understand these little beasties like to eat human skin. A parting gift from the books previous owner to the unwary no doubt."

Raymond yelped like a scalded dog. He peered closely at his hand; the creature that had seemed dead now pulsated. Two shiny black hooks protruding from one end of the creature had pierced Raymond's unprotected skin. He tried to shake it loose but instead it began to burrow into his flesh.

"Agggh, why did you do that Alexander?" Raymond's normally sallow complexion turned a deep red.

"I require there to be no witnesses, Raymond. Besides you keep insisting upon using my first name even though I asked you not to."

At that point, I decided it was time to leave. I am familiar with the feeding practices of Thukee and once they get started, they are voracious. A man with no skin is not a pretty sight. Try to picture it like an ice-cream sundae. You will not feel so queasy.

I paused at the shop door flipping the sign over, it now read closed for lunch. I stepped out into hot summer sunshine shutting the door on poor Raymond's frantic screams. Walking back toward the high street with my new book in my pocket, I smiled remembering a line from a Tom Waits song,

When it gets to hot for comfort, and you can't get an ice cream cone't ain't no sin to take off your skin, and dance around in your bones.

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Reviews

Gary Apr 28, 2012

Loved the story Shaun. The first sentence is what enticed me to keep reading. Usually, if the first few sentences are unbearable, I skip the story. As you reaveled your character, Alexander, er, Mr. Fish, I thought it was a little off for him to refer to

TKC Mar 10, 2012

very impressive work, loved the setting and details. I did notice that your rhythm kind of staggered a bit towards the end but that's just my opinion and I'm not going to claim to be a professional, just read a lot (:

Shaun Adams Mar 13, 2012

TKC:-) Thanks for commenting,I think you maybe right, originally written for a 500 word contest, this story was bursting at the seems. I had to dam the flow way to soon. :-)

Tiffany Mar 6, 2012

very descriptive.

Shaun Adams Mar 7, 2012

Thank you for commenting Tiffany :-)

L.A. Camp Mar 3, 2012

really good work mate, I genuinely love your descriptive writing and how you set the mood.

Shaun Adams Mar 3, 2012

Thank you L.A Camp :-)

Amit Mar 3, 2012

Its really an nice story. i like it.

Shaun Adams Mar 3, 2012

Hello Arnit :-) I'm pleased you like it.

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