Juncture, Straight On

(Ok, so its been 6 months since I started this. It's much shorter than it was supposed to be. The point was that you'd get a choice of posts to read. But I never wrote more than one, so it didn't work so well. Here's post no. 2!

NB: her convenient "friends house" only occurs in this post because of her choice of "straight on." It doesn't exist in the "right" or "left" universes.)

Juncture: Straight on

Checking one last time for any traffic, she crosses straight across the cross-roads and up the slight incline. The hedged verges drop away here to reveal stunning views of the open countryside; a majestic mountain curving up to her right, sliding down into a valley carpeted in woodland. Every now and then a flurry of birds erupt from the surrounding scene, with a burst of their trilling songs.

She is lost in her idling reflections when she hears one of the most welcome sounds she’s ever heard. From behind there is a car approaching and she quickly turns and holds out her arm, thumb aloft, hoping against hope that she doesn’t look like too much of a weirdo today.

She soon surmises that she mustn’t look too bad because the car indicates and pulls over. She doesn’t know much about cars, but she knew enough to feel the vibes of expense radiating from it. If she was ever going to tell anyone about this experience in the future, she’d call it the “pretty bluey-silver sportsy-type car,” to the despair of all metal-head’s in the area.

The driver’s door swooshed open and a Gorgeous Man stepped out. She blinked.

“Hi there,” he said, unoriginally.

“Urgh,” she replied, realising as she said it that that wasn’t a word. “Umineem,” she continued quickly, feeling more and more like a weirdo. Damn.

“Umm…” the Gorgeous Man said, looking a bit non-plussed. This was an accustomed expression for him.

“My car’s stopped,” she managed to blurt out suddenly, probably looking even more demented. “I don’t have a phone and errr… I kind of don’t really know what to do.” She stopped, determined not to add further embarrassment to that pitiful effort.

“Hey, no problem!” the Gorgeous Man said in that laid back, supposedly, charming way of all men who fancy themselves as Gorgeous. “Do you have the number of your insurance breakdown people?”

Shit. Crap. Bastards.

“Umm… no well, yes, but well, I keep it on my phone and I forgot my phone.”

Pathetic.

“Oh. Well can I give you a lift somewhere? I didn’t really have a destination in mind. I was just taking the car out, you know, cruising.”

She wonders briefly whether he is some kind of creepy murderer-rapist, or else just someone who lacks environmentalist principles. She decides the latter are more common.

“Ah- yes please!” she replies, trying to sound grateful, but not like some kind of freaky keeno. “I was on my way to a friend’s house- she lives about ten minutes drive from here. Would that be at all possible?” She allows herself to sound just a little bit desperate. She even toys with the idea of puppy-dog eyes.

“Sure!” he replies with an expansive arm gesture. “Climb on in.”

She steps into the car, sinking deeply into the squishy leather seating. She smiled at the decadence of her transportation as she snaps the seat belt into place. The Gorgeous Man slides into the driver’s seat and flicked on his indicator light, making a soft little puck-puck noise, almost like an embarrassed cough.

“You know, it’s the strangest thing, and I know this is going to sound like a line, but I can’t help but feel I know you from somewhere.” The Gorgeous Man glanced across at her, a slightly puzzled expression on his face.

She takes a closer look at him and with a sinking feeling, realises that yes, they have met before. He used to be in the same school, although two years older, and she had been part of a (now hideously embarrassing) fan club, devoted to his supreme gorgeousness and popularity. It was a supposedly a secret fan club. But this was a school after all.

To pretend you don’t know him: Stop! And continue reading the post entitled Juncture: I don’t know what you’re talking about.

To acknowledge the acquaintance, despite the embarrassment; continue reading below.

“Yes, actually, I don’t suppose you went to Hartfield School?” she asked, as nonchalantly as possible. She looked out the window as she said it, admiring the now very interesting scenery. In fact, she could just make out what seemed to be a castle, nestled in the bottom of the valley.

“Yes! I did!” the Man replied, slight excitement entering his tone. “Did you go there too?”

“Yes,” she replied neutrally, “I don’t think we were in the same year though.”

“School days were good fun, weren’t they? Do you remember Mr Pughes?”

“Yes! And how he always said everything as if it was from 1950. ‘Turn down the sound on your jukeboxes, children!’ He was a right laugh,” she replied, with a laugh.

“Yes! And do you remember that special assembly he lead?”

“Who doesn’t! I don’t think I’ve ever cringed so much.”

“Less said about that, the better,” he replied solemnly.

“At the next cross roads, it’s straight on,” she interrupted, pointing at the junction coming up in front of them.

“Ok,” he replied, still smiling. Looking both ways, he carefully crossed over the road.

“My friend’s house is coming up on the left soon,” she said, leaning forward and squinting at the hedge line.

“Is that it?” he asked, tilting his head at a house sitting set into the hillside.

“Yes!” she replied happily. “Thank you so much for driving me! I was really stuck back there.”

“It was my pleasure. Look, I don’t want to sound corny, but could I have you’re number?” He said the last part slightly rushed.

She smiled back at him. “Sure. But, as we know, my ability to keep my phone on me is not the best.”

He laughed in reply. “I suppose I’ll just have to be patient then!”

He handed her his phone and she keyed her number in.

“See you around then,” she said, stepping out of his car. “And thanks again for the lift.”

“No problem! Hopefully see you soon!”

With that he drove off into the sunset. Once he was out of sight, she jumped up and down on the spot laughing.

“No one from school will believe this!” she thought to herself, before running up to her friends door and ringing the bell.

“You alright?” her friend asked, opening the door.

“Fine!” she exclaimed, jubilantly, “but you are not going to believe what just happened!”

THE END

Juncture: Left

The path continues to wind left and downhill, becoming increasingly dark and narrow. As she approaches the edge of a forest of pines, the verges of the road become dense with thickly tangled undergrowth. It seems eerily silent here and a slight mist begins to creep through the trees and over the rusty carpet of dead needles. Her footsteps click against the tarmac road and her breath sounds harsh and oppressively loud to her ears.

Up ahead she sees a track veering away from the main road. There is a handmade, wooden sign nailed crookedly into one of the trees nearest the bend. On the sign is a hand pointing and simply the words “Hintly Castle”. She pauses and considers the possibility of there being a telephone in this direction.

To decide, “Probably some old ruin- no chance of finding a phone there,” Stop reading and continue in the post “Juncture: Avoiding the Castle.”

To decide, “This is the only sign of life I’ve seen in this desolate place- I’m taking a chance on it.”
Continue reading below…

She turns down the track, covered in the debris of the trees; jumping slightly at the cracking of every dried, skeletal twig beneath her feet. The further down the track she goes, the slower time seems to pass; the quieter and the more unnerving the forest seems. The sky begins to take on a deep shade of orange, as dusk begins to fall. She struggles onwards, the track becoming more and more indistinct until she realises she cannot see a path either towards or away from the direction in which she was walking. Lost and stranded in the middle of a darkening forest, she begins to feel increasingly panicked. Suddenly, out of the silence, she hears something; a sound growing louder and louder. A rolling sound, as if of wheels, and a stamping, like that of feet.

“A carriage?” she wonders to herself. “But surely: impossible!”

She can’t believe what she hears because how could a carriage possibly hope to negotiate between these densely-packed trees?

The sound becomes louder and louder, almost echoing in the noiseless wood.

“Hello, there?” she ventures nervously into the darkness.

With a resounding crunch, the sound ceases, followed by a heavy thump and then footsteps, drawing closer.

She freezes, petrified to the spot, unable to move. A dark form materialises from the blackness, seemingly built of the very shadows themselves. As the shade steps closer, she realises it is a tall, lightly-built man, dark hair pulled back from a sharp, pale face. She also realises with a slight jolt of unexpected attraction, that he is extremely handsome. As he draws yet closer, she realises that his face expresses a difficult complex of emotion. Both curious and yet cruel; eager and yet distant.

“Good evening,” the man addresses her, his emotions now concealed behind a perfect mask of politeness.

“Good evening,” she replies, managing to suppress the tremor that might have entered into her voice.

“Might I enquire, if you do not consider it impertinent, how you came to be here? You are a long way from the road.”

“My car broke down and I took this path in the hope of finding a phone,” she blurted out in reply, somehow feeling she must be in the wrong.

“A telephone?” he replies, a lilt of curiosity and slight distaste entering his tone. “Well, I do have such a device, but it is back at my home. Would that be of any service to you?”

Grateful relief washed briefly through her, but some deeper, more primal feeling soon began creeping through her body, blocking her from immediately accepting his offer. She shakes the feeling off and smiles warmly back at him.

“That’d be brilliant! A real life-saver!”

His lips curl into a smile, but there seemed to be something coldly ironic in his face, denying the expression of genuine warmth. He holds out his arm to her, something she really wasn’t expecting and couldn’t think of a way to refuse politely. She delicately put her arm through his, the soft fabric of his jacket brushing lightly against her fingertips. Rotating suddenly on his heel, he begins to lead her at a swift pace, pulling her tight in against his side. His body felt cold to the touch and his muscles felt hard and rigid as stone.

He brought her to a magnificent carriage, drawn by four black horses, who were shifting and stamping restlessly between the traces. Releasing her arm from his grip he sprang lightly into the drivers seat and then held out a hand to her. Feeling very ungainly, she struggled up the step, landing clumsily on the seat next to him.

“Sorry!” she muttered, blushing slightly, “I’m not exactly used to climbing into carriages.”

He merely smiled in response and picked up the reins.

“Can you really drive this through all these trees?” she asked dubiously, wondering how the carriage had even managed to squeeze into the space it was in.

The man threw back his head and laughed, a chilling, maniacal sound, and picking up a long whip, cracked it loudly over the heads of his team of stallions. The carriage sprang wildly forwards, flying over the rough ground and lurching in such a way that she felt certain she would fall out at any second.

Just when she thought this hell-ride would never end, the carriage stopped abruptly just before a set of wrought-iron gates. With a long-drawn out screech, the gates swung open and the man drove his team through at a much more sedate pace.

Night had completely fallen by this time and her vision was partly obscured by the lingering mist, but she could just make out the looming presence of a large, gothic castle. The carriage rolled to a stop by the massive oak doors and the driver turned to look at her.

“We are here,” he said in his strangely light voice. “Please come in and make a use of the facilities.”

He sprang lightly from his seat and turned to offer his hand to her. She did not think this would help her look less ungainly, but nevertheless, took his hold to try and disembark gracefully. She landed in a heap, but was steadied by his grip on her hand and soon realised she was probably standing far too physically close to him. He was looking at her quizzically, his silver eyes fixed on her pale face, upturned to his. She felt transfixed by his gaze and soon felt an almost overwhelming sense of tiredness as her eyelids began to flutter and close.

She suddenly sprang awake, dazed and confused. She did not recognise where she was, her clothes had changed and she felt certain that some number of hours must have passed. She looked down at herself; she was wearing some sort of old-fashioned nightclothes in white. She felt herself beginning to shiver and a physical and emotional cold creeping under the surface of her skin. She looked around the room and surmised it was some kind of lounge and that she was lying on some sort of divan. She did not get any further than this in her investigations when she heard footsteps approaching the room.

“Ah, awake I see,” a familiar voice murmured from behind her. She whipped around to see the man from earlier, exactly the same as she remembered.

“Where am I? What’s happened to me?” she asked in an unusual show of bravery. She felt very trapped and isolated in her seated position and so got quickly to her feet. The man approached her.

“Just one more stage and the process will be complete,” he replied enigmatically, stalking towards her across the room.

“Process?” she replied, her voice becoming tinged with panic.

“Yes. Unfortunately the last stage must be voluntary,” his voice was edged with a resigned irritation. He was within metres of her when she felt her back press against the cold of the stone wall. She froze, trapped by her fear and his physical closeness.

“I have taken from you,” he continued silkily, reaching up to run one of his fingers down the edge of her neck. “But now you must take from me.”

She instinctively reached up to touch her neck, discovering a pair of risen welts. She immediately wanted to look in a mirror, to see for herself what this alien thing on her body was. Over the man’s shoulder she could see a full length mirror and her own reflection. With a sickening drop to her stomach, she realised she could not see his.

“What have you done to me?” she whispered, her gaze transfixed by the mirror.

“I am giving you a choice,” he replied sinuously, reaching out to turn her face towards his.

“Eternal life, youth and strength and unlimited possibilities!” he paused on a triumphant note.

“Or…?” she asked tremulously.

He bared his teeth, the sharp edges of his canines seeming to glint. “Or nothing. I will take the rest of you; consume until there is nothing of you left. No body; no person; no memory. You will not even have existed.” His voice becoming louder and louder and his eyes becoming wide and manic.

She desperately thought over her options.

To reject his offer, do not continue reading as the nasty and dire consequences would be too awful to print.

To accept his offer, continue reading below…

A mingled emotion of fear and curiosity coursing through her veins, she nods her head and looks him directly in the eyes. He takes a silver knife from the inner pocket of his jacket and cuts a deep line across his neck. She leans over and runs her tongue up the line of oozing blood and begins to drink deeply of the wound. She begins to feel a change within herself; a burning, blazing feeling running through her body. She feels powerful, magnificent and yet terrible and terrifying.
The man sighs deeply and drops down dead on the floor. She regards him, no sympathy even flickering through her mind. It is her time now. She drank too much of him. More than he could take. But it is all hers now. All his strength and power. All hers for all eternity. She throws back her head and bursts into maniacal laughter.

THE END.

Juncture

With an apologetic splutter the engine choked and guttered.

“No, no, no, no you don’t!” the driver groaned, tightening her grasp on the steering wheel and eyeing up the sinisterly glowing red engine-light.

With a finalistic cough, the engine gave up completely and fell silent.

“Shit,” she cursed, switching on her hazard lights and glancing down the road to see where she could pull over. The country road seemed to stretch interminably ahead of her, but just in sight was a big white ‘P’ on a bright blue background.

“Come on, come on! Just a little bit further,” she coaxed her gliding car, glancing at her rapidly declining speedometer. Closer and closer her car crawled, until it was within metres of the parking bay. Squeezing her eyes and leaning forward, she sent up a silent prayer, willing her car to make it, the speed reregistering at roughly 6mph.

“Yes!” she cried as her car just made it across the white lines before rocking to a stop. Her triumph flared briefly before she recollected the situation she was in.

“Screw it, where’s my phone?” she asked of herself, rummaging through her handbag. Getting a bit desperate she emptied the bag onto the passenger seat and searched the contents. Money; make-up; keys; receipts; pens; even a few mint Humbugs: but no phone.

“Phone, phone, phone,” she muttered, running her hands under the seats and along every pocket of the car she could find. An intrusive little memory of her phone sitting on the kitchen table rose gradually to the forefront of her mind.

“I can’t believe it!”

Taking her key out of the, now redundant, ignition, she stepped out of the door and surveyed the road around her. No public telephone in sight. Typical of the Mobile Age, she surmised.

She starts walking down the country road; it is a pleasant enough day for it and still not another vehicle in sight. After about ten minutes she comes to a crossroads without signposts. None of the routes seem to stand out to her as being especially likely to lead to a telephone.

To turn left, read the post entitled Juncture: Left.

To go straight on, read the post entitled: Juncture: Straight on.

To turn right, read the post entitled: Juncture: Right.