The Flickering Chronicles
Sin Eater. Masichistic Contract Killer that envys his mark's fate.
“You holdn’?” The strung out junkie once known as Tom chided with bated breath and darting eyes. Calvin Johansen didn’t know who he felt worse for, this shell of a man whom Calvin knew would never be able to claw back out of his sad existence, or himself. In all reality SoCal felt some type of camaraderie with the addict. Call it society, bad luck, or even just the lack of a proper boot up the ass, but Tom’s physical condition echoed how SoCal felt inside: Trapped.
“Nah, man” I’m tapped, Calvin lied subconsciously rooting for Tom. “Gonna have to go up the street”.
“Mang! Why you wasting my FUCKING TIME!” The pickpocket shoving match that happened next was unexpected to say the least. Tom went primal swapping blows with ham-fisted attempts at upturning SoCal’s pockets yearning for the Ambrosia that he knew was there.
Retard strength…you know the term for the unexpected physical prowess that some of the mentally handicapped possess due to their lack of inhibition? Well imagine that magnified by the power of a drug nicknamed after the ancient Greek food of the gods. SoCal was shitting bricks.
Socal managed a quick right on the junkies jaw that would have KO’d Tyson that just made Tom stumble back 3 steps into the street. Tom’s eyes burnt with a gleaming burnished yellow, the color of veiled attempts at looking at the sun.
Just as SoCal pondered what his epitaph would read, a drunk driver careened through the space that use to be occupy by the being formerly known as Tom leaving a blood spatter across Calvin’s face
“Story of my life”, SoCal thought, as he quick stepped it away from the the crime scene. Just as only a truly sane person questions their own mental constitution, SoCal didn’t realize how smart he was questioning the fuck-ups of his past.The tiny double brass bell ring ushered a change of atmosphere and reality. No one was in Shadez Convenience store at 3 in the morning, save the attendant, and he was eyelid deep in the latest tabloid. “I could clean this place out”, he actually muttered out loud, Sinjay didn’t even bat an eye. Can’t think like that, keep your head clear…too many problems as it is. Water….that’s what I need….water. A couple pulls down from a bottle and a few laps around the perishables to clear his head SoCal rang out.
“$2.66” Sinjay lolled, eventually eying the the lottery print out SoCal was turning over in his hand. “You want that? Fucking tweak-er asked it for it earlier, and left without paying. Four chances on it .?.”
“Sure. What’s the damage?”
“Whatever.” SoCal paid; Sinjay returned to the weekly gossip and the double bell had just chimed above the door in Calvin’s hand when he noticed the nightly news recap on display above and behind the counter. The lotto numbers were being announced and SoCal raced for the ticket in his pocket. 3, 12, 13, 21 estimated payout $1.7 million. Each number was echoed through his own voice and each number was tremblingly crossed out in his mind. He won. He won it all. Third row down.
This was his break…he could go to school….Fuck school! He could travel, adventure…..he could go to school and get a med degree and tend to some needy kids like on TV while surfing. The possibilities were endlesssssssss.
The last word that he thought rushed through the imagination processing part of his brain just as the mathematical reasoning portion realized that those lights were too close and getting closer.
The black robed man stood next to him as SoCal cringed….the harbinger introduced himself . Introduced? That was the wrong word. The words that spoke of this deadly tryst reverberated through SoCal’s head like suffocating darkness accompanied by the soft eerie sounds of wind blown across a cemetery on an autumn night.
Brought to his knees SoCal wept. Was this heaven, hell, for once he wanted to know the what instead of the why.
“What contract? Make it stop!”
“….Death can end….”
“What do you mean? Please stop!”
“….I can return you….for a price…”
Reminiscent of Hope that he had longed for for so many years, and believing this to be his spiritual second chance on life he bit.
“Yes I want it” Return me so that I must live.
“…..Oh….you will live….FOR ME”
The light was blinding……The cryptic raging voice seemed to meld with the new white hot pain behind his eyes. Everything was a blur that wouldn’t focus. Steady beeps in the distance become closer. He heard the words. Mr. Johansen, we almost lost you.