Something Dark...........

[Lacedaemonian]

Introduction: Dewesbury – The Cellars

And the stop and the start and the constant to and fro. The binds. Old rope like nocturnal bracelets. And what happened to his shoes? He could never remember a time when he owned a pair. Some that came to the Cellar liked him gagged others liked to hear his scream. There was a difference, he thought. At first he thought to disappoint them and a whimper was all they got. Thus ensuring he only ever received gentler visitors. Walking the exercise yard changed this though. Bruises, cuts and bite marks covered the ‘screamers’ faces and bodies. They all needed to share this misery he told himself. And he did.

His scream was raw and hurt his throat.

Orphans, thieves, the destitute. All of them children. All of them boys. He could not remember how he got here? He could not remember anything before his time in the Cellar. This was his blessing. Those who remembered, they tended not to last long. He could not remember. But he knew things. He knew things that he had not learned here.

He remembered he had to scream again.

He was the oldest boy in the Cellar. Not sure how he knew this. Another of those not quite memories. There were bigger lads than him but something about them said they were all younger. They made no conversation. There was almost nothing to break up the routine of the Cellar. None of them had truly lived. Those who had memories either perished or closed their mind to the past in order to survive. At some point, he could not remember when exactly, he became the oldest boy in the Cellar. He had been here longer than any of the other boys except maybe for Duke, who he could not recall arriving here. But Duke had the mind of a baby.

“You look just like my brothers son…”

He lay still, slumped across the barrel and feigned exhaustion. Screams filled the Cellars around him. Beautiful, he thought.

His name was Stone. He made the calls. When he told them to scream….


** ** ** ** **

She sat next to the pond, her feet dangled in the cool water. She watched the different coloured fish, her father had bought, milling around her feet. Each cost a small fortune her mother would often say. Proud at the extravagance that her husband lavished on her. Her father was never home and would spoil her mother with such gifts whenever he returned. She knew that she was lucky to have a very wealthy father, but she would rather he was at home more often. She had stopped looking forward to the gifts a long time ago. She wanted for nothing.

Lately she had noticed her mother becoming increasingly depressed but she did not know why. She tried to make her happy. She wore her white blonde hair up like her mother liked her to. She now wore the emerald green dress her mother always begged her to wear. Her mother had not even noticed at breakfast that morning. What was going on? She hoped her father would return home some day soon. That would make her mother happy.
Shouts from the house broke her melancholy. What was going on? She slipped her matching emerald green slippers onto her feet and holding her dress up from the grass she made her way back up to the house. Crossing the lawn, she made her way into the house. What was going on? City guards were scattered throughout the house. Trentley, one of the house guards lay still on the floor. Was he dead? She could not tell. She moved through the hallway to where he lay. Blood soaked his usually spotless beige tunic.

He was dead.

Horrified she looked for her mother. She asked a city guard if he had seen her mother. The guard ignored her and continued staring into space. A fat man with long moustache strolled down the stairwell. He seemed to be in charge. “Where is my mother, sir?”

“Your mother has been taken into custody to answer some questions regarding your traitorous father and his whereabouts.”

“My father is not a traitor.” She had no idea whether he was or was not but she knew that he was a good man. “He is a good man.”

“Well that remains to be seen. For the time being you can remain at Dewesbury Castle.”

“Why can I not remain here? This is my home.”

“As of today all of your father’s assets have been seized by the state, this is no longer your home….”

“Duchess Josephine (????)”

“You are no longer a Duchess. I will arrange transport to your new home. For how long really depends on your mother and father.”

“Thank you, good sir.” She responded politely. She did not want to lose face but her insides were screaming out. What had her father done?

** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

Stone sat mopping up his soup with a chunk of bread. He stared around at the other tables. One boy sat with his full bowl of soup and chunk of bread untouched in front of him. This was the fourth day in a row. They used to make wagers on how long the ‘starvers’ would last. Stone had put an end to that. It was wrong. Another not quite memory. The winners of such wagers won absolutely nothing. He had won once. He remembered how he felt, almost like he had condemned the poor soul himself. There was nothing that could be done for a ‘starver’ they had made their choice. They did not want to go on living anymore.

When he was younger an older boy had told him that if he looked after himself he might get moved to the ‘mines’. He had no idea what the ‘mines’ were but he thought it must be a better place than the Cellars.

He had to survive.

There were times that a boy would be killed by an enthusiastic visitor. There were times that a visitor would take a boys life as part of the service the Cellar provided. Stone shivered at the thought. His whole body reacted to these thoughts, yet he did not know why? He just knew he had to protect the boys. But he did not know how to.

He was starting to get hair growing under his arms and around his penis. The men who visited him also had hair in these places. Stone was not sure what this meant. He had noticed that Duke also had hair in these places. He would have asked him about this but the only three things Duke could say were, “Duke”, “I be good” and “Stone”. Stone looked across at his longest living friend and smiled. Duke smiled back and pointed at himself “I be good, Stone”.

“Yes you are good.” Stone patted him on the arm. Duke beamed back at him. Stone knew that his survival here owed a lot to this happy fool sat in front of him. He was always so happy, no matter what. Something inside Stone told him that both of their chances of survival would always be entwined.

Alone they would perish.

** ** ** ** **

Josephine walked around the yard. Huge thick walls stood around the small yard. She could see nothing but sky above her. She remembered feeling excited when she first arrived at the castle, it was huge. She also remembered feeling guilty for feeling excited when the safety of both her parents was far from certain. She felt the anger growing inside her again. It had been growing in the last two weeks as despair set in. Why had her father done this to her?

The castle was not her real destination. This place, this ‘Cellars’ was where she had ended up. At first she thought it was some sort of mistake. That thought lasted only a day. There were a handful of other young aristocratic women here. The stories she had heard……

Her soul screamed.

She had not had a ‘visitor’ yet… The girls looked ghastly… This place was beyond nightmares, beyond her darkest thoughts…. She would not survive here.

** ** ** **

Stone and Duke leant across the table and arm wrestled. It was something that Duke wanted to play. Stone had no idea where Duke had got the idea. They both grinned at each other as they both used all of their strength to try and push each others hand onto the table. Duke slammed Stone’s hand onto the table and laughed. “I be good.” Duke always won, he was so strong.

“Yes you are, Duke.” He smiled warmly at him.

Stone looked at the empty place at a table across the room. Sleep well friend, he thought to himself. Duke looked too. Duke offered his bowl of soup to Stone, “Stone?” he asked.

“You eat it Duke.” Duke’s face exploded in a grin and began to eat his meal with his usual enthusiasm. Stone guessed that Duke worried that he might stop eating too.
The bell was rung. The men rarely spoke to the boys. Ringing of bells and routine made this unnecessary. When he was younger an ‘aristocrat’ had attacked two of the men. He was killed quickly and dragged out and left in the yard for a week as a message to the boys not to do this again. Even as they stoved his head in with their hammers they did not speak a word. The boys did not react either but Stone remembered the look some of the boys had in their eyes. He was not sure what it was until now. It was something like friendship.

The bell rang.

All of the boys stood up and lined up at the wall as normal. When the door was pushed open fully the boys started to file back to their cells. One of the men grabbed a boy out of the line and pushed him to one side. This caused some confusion with the boys but they were ushered on by another man. As Stone and Duke filed through the door, Stone was grabbed and pushed to one side. Duke moved as if to strike the man. Stone panicked, “Stone is okay, Duke.” Duke was ushered back into line his face a mask of worry.

Stone did not get a chance to reassure him further. He and the other boy were bundled up some steps and left standing outside a large wooden door. The boy had a strange look on his face, and nodded at Stone. Stone watched as the boy ran and hurtled himself through a small window and crumpled in a heap on the ground some distance below. Stone had never been this high before and suddenly felt dizzy looking out of the window. Neither of the men spoke.

The large door opened and a small wiry man stood in the doorway and looked side to side. “Baker jump?”

The men nodded.

“Fetch Mr Drake then.”

Both men marched back down the stairs.

The small wiry man turned and looked down at Stone, “You thinking about killing yourself, Mr Stone?”

“No.”

“No, what?” The small wiry man seemed to be waiting for Stone to say something.

“Not myself.” This seemed to throw the wiry man’s face into confusion. Stone was not sure what he was supposed to have said.

“You try anything and you will be joining your friend out in the yard.” He said gesturing at the broken window.

Stone thought this was a strange thing to say. Why was Duke out in the strange yard? He should be getting scrubbed clean now, ready for the Visitors. Stone moved over to the window and peered down. The boy named Baker lay crumpled in a heap in the centre of the large yard. Nobody else was in they yard. “My friend is not down there.”

“Eh he just got up, scaled the wall and absconded did he?” The wiry man was smiling and seemed pleased. Absconded, Stone thought, what a strange word.
“He absconded.” Stone said trying the word out.

The little wiry man raced over to window, his smile gone from his face. He leaned out to view the yard below him. Stone pushed him in the back so that he lost his balance and fell forward through the window into the silent darkening day. Which was broken moments later by a sickening crunching noise, as the wiry man’s wiry bones met the hard stone floor of the yard.

Stone stood with his back against the rough wall next to the window. He was not sure why he had pushed the wiry man out of the window but it felt good. The two men returned dragging a shaken Duke up the stairs. “Stone?” He said which by his tone said so much more.

“Where is Grimand?” The one with the beard asked.

Stone stood with his hands behind his back, motionless but for his eyes which twitched madly as they always did.

“The small man who was with you just before?” The smallest faced one asked.

“He went down to the yard.” Stone asked, the twitching in his eyes stopping suddenly. The bearded one leaned out of the broken window straining to see the yard below in the failing light of day. Stone leaned next to him, “He is right there next to the boy named Baker.” Stone helped, pushing the big faced man with a beard out of the window. Was sound of his bones shattering as they smashed into the stone floor of the yard louder than the noise the wiry man they named Grimand made when he hit the floor? Stone could not be certain. “Can you see him now, man with a large bearded face?”

“What..?” The smallest faced one’s mouth hung open like his eyes.

“Absconded.” Stone declared pointing at the window with a smile.

“You killed ‘em.” The smallest faced one reached for his hammer and managed to raise it above his head. Duke grabbed a hold of the smallest faced one’s eyes, making him scream. Stone smiled at Duke, who smiled right back. Duke was the greatest boy in the Cellar.

He picked up a piece of broken glass from the stone window ledge and pressed it into his hand. His hand bled. He looked up at Duke and smiled. “Killed ‘em.” He repeated as he ran the piece of broken glass across the smallest faced ones neck. Blood spilled out like water form a bucket. “Duke?” Stone asked gesturing towards the broken window. Duke understood.

CRACK.

Four bodies lay jumbled up on the yard below.

“Stone?” Duke looked up through the open door.

“We kill ‘em.”


*** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

[dustinzgirl]

I absolutely loved it. I'll leave the grammar to people better trained for that. But dang, one minute I'm like OMG and get that feeling in the back of my throat like I'm going to cry and the next I'm all KILL THEM!

More please.

[HappyHippo]

That was uncomfortable but 'unputdownable'. Real emotional connection, right from the off. Incredible.

I second Dutinzgirl.

[The Ace]

Wow, at least your characters have a reason for the bloody violence just around the corner.

[Lacedaemonian]

Thanks for reading this piece, I know it is quite long for the critiques section. I wrote half on Friday lunch break and half on Mondays lunch break. I manage a home for young adults with learning disabilities and thought that it would be interesting to write them a fantastical hero. They deserve one. Hopefully Duke (or Drake) will deliver.

I have also been reading Harry Potter (like most people), and though I love the series I cant help but feel Harry is not damaged enough. I have flirted with this concept before of having a completely ruined character. Somebody who is inflicted with a lifetime of severe abuse.

The character I am building in this story has only known abuse. He is basically raped nearly every night of his life. Shocking I know, but he has known no different. So it is not abuse to him in many senses, it is merely a vile empty existence.

To expand on the concept of absolute abuse, I drew heavily from the movie Bad Boy Bubby. This is a brilliant film. Bubby is a 34 year old man who has lived with his incestuous abusive mother for all of his life. He has never been out of the house and has no knowledge of the outside world. The film follows his first experiences of the outside world. Although the film is highly comical there is a very strong underlying tragic theme. Bubby is the perfect innocent.

I wanted to encapsulate this innocence in my hero, Stone. Which hopefully I will do. You have to realise he killed the first warden on impulse. There was no motive. The other wardens are killed as a chain reaction to his first crime. Stone and Duke are all about survival.

I do not want Stone to resemble the sheer negativity of Stephen R. Donaldson's Thomas Covenant, the Unbeliever. As much as this was a brilliant character, I feel he weighs you down with his negativity. Gene Wolfe's hero in Book of the New Sun, Severian is the perfect character for me. I think all of my heroes will have a trace of Severian in them. He too goes out into the world as an innocent. Albeit as a master torturer.

The location was inspired heavily on the Elite Hunting building in the movie Hostel. For those who have seen this film, I am sure you share my experience of absolute horror. The Cellar offers similar services.

I have no concept of the outside world as yet.

[Green]

Sorry, late to the party.

Interesting stuff, mate. The style fits Stone very well - the text is quite simple, but fractured and choppy, which is how I imagine it all would look to a child in that world. If it continued like this for a whole novel I might be drained by it, but it is very original and all the more interesting for it.

There are a few grammatical problems, but I think if you slow down to have a look at it, you will see them for yourself (but I suppose I know you don't slow down to look at what you've written). Some of the dialogue feels a bit wooden, such as:

"Your mother has been taken into custody to answer some questions regarding your traitorous father and his whereabouts."

Which would benefit from a rewrite... if you do one.

So yeah, very interesting, and lacking of any cheese whatsoever. It's good to see something of yours that starts at the beginning for once, so I hope you keep to the timeline and give us the next scene.

Having said all that, I am pissed off that you're not giving us more of Emerald, Danae and the rest of them

[areader]

The first Josephine bit needs more dimensions to it. The rest works brilliantly.

[Nesacat]

Loved it. Very uncomfortable but impossible to stop reading. The parts with Stone & Duke are especially good. I like the jagged style. It fits in. Had my heart in my mouth.

You need to work on rounding out Josephine to the reader feels with the same intensity.

More please.

[Lacedaemonian]

Josephine is not fleshed out yet. Not absolutely certain what I wanted to do with her. She could be the romantic redemption of Stone or she could be nothing. I am also not certain whether or not she will be 'visited' and to what extent. This would have huge ramifications on her character and I am not wholly confident in my ability to do her justice.

[jemcaesar]

This was excellent. I really enjoyed reading this. The writing was tight and the style well-suited to the subject matter. Bravo!

[Nesacat]

Either way, whether she is a means of redemption or if in the end she is nothing her character provides balance and a different focal point. It breaks the jagged edges of Stone's story and makes it much more effective for that; for me at least.

I think you could do her character justice and perhaps she should not be visited but be 'aware' if you wish a greater contrast.

[Peter Graham]

Hello,

I'm not proposing to do a grammar crit, but one thing that struck me very strongly was that you seem to have two separate voices. The action involving the abused characters is, as others have rightly said, extremely powerful and gripping stuff. Well-written, stark and more than a little harrowing. Absolutely excellent.

However, your second voice (the first scene with Josephine and the fight scene) is rather flat by comparison. We leave the dark world of abuse and vulnerability and look likely to enter the sunny uplands of genre fantasy. I suspect that this is because in your first voice you are writing about things you know about, care about and need to express, whereas in your second voice you are writing about things you have no direct experience of (living in a fantasy landscape). This is not to criticise fantasy landscapes - far from it - but there is a noticeable shift of gear when you have to deal with the world outside the Cellars.

I wonder if the book would be stronger if you set it in the here and now - or the very near future. Both voices would then meld as they would both be narrating what you genuinely know about - the horrors of abuse and the nuts and bolts of the 21st Century. Just my view, but I think that bringing it up to date would make a pretty damn good read.

One other, very minor point. I don't know if you're based in Britain, but if not, you may not be aware that there is a real Dewsbury. Somewhat in the mode of Blake's 'dark satanic mills', but none the worse for that. It has a fish and chip shop called "Wibbits", which will be extremely funny to any member from the north of Britain and incomprehensible to anyone else.

Regards,

Peter

[Lacedaemonian]

I have friends who live in South Yorkshire and I may have passed near Dewsbury on my way there from Newcastle on my many visits. The name itself is meaningless and is not something I have set on as I am yet to decide what world this story will take place.

The introduction to Josephine was never a comfortable and finished piece. Although it was my intention to paint her life as being wealthy but utterly dull. This was to contrast with the changes I had planned on making to her later.

The reality is, these characters may only feature in a larger story and not as the main heroes/characters. Time will tell.

[-Ellimist-]

i liked the setting, although the very beginning was a little disorienting, it was easy to get into and keep reading, although the josephine parts didn't feel connected to the rest of the story other than the inclusion of the "cellars" and the name of the castle in her parts. good luck with the rest, sure it'll be a good read.

[Lacedaemonian]

Thanks for reading it mate. Josephine was very rushed, her opening scenes are of little to no significance and are simply a ploy to break up the Stone scenes. She will be more important later. For the time being I simply wanted to slap her into the story and develop her character later. Her scenes are dull and 'wooden' as many of you have rightly said.