A Parish Darker: A Victorian Suspense Novella by Rhys Ermire Read Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Rhys Ermire
adrenaline as I brought it to my back, out of his line of sight.
I did not wish for what happened. My only hope in writing this is that I have convinced you of as much.
The guest stepped forward, his grip so tight and rage so apparent that the sum of his being began to quiver in anticipation—of what, I did not know, but I suspected a fate similar to that of the rodent outstretched on the table behind me.
“You don’t have to do this.” I said so with a quiet but resolved tone. The man reacted in turn by coming closer forward with no interest in my words.
I don’t dare describe this incident for my own sake. It is only now that I relive it this many years on that I can hope to leave something behind for the sake of those who may come across this record and act accordingly.
The knife came closer, the man still not making eye contact. His deadened stare presented itself in such a manner that one would assume he were looking through me where I stood as if I were not present.
He bore his teeth as if a wild animal. Saliva fell from his agape mouth onto the floor below.
I was left with no choice. I pulled this small tool that was at my disposal on the man. It was my only means of defense with his larger frame and superior weapon obstructing any path to a more suitable option.
The site of the sizable but ineffective blade made no impression on the man so determined in his march toward my position.
My hands began to quiver for reasons entirely opposite those of my adversary. Where he had rage, I had fear. Where he had determination, I had only more fears.
He held the blade outward more, as if a viper priming a strike. If indeed a serpent, venom would have surely been seeping from his tusk-like teeth in that moment.
Many thoughts passed through my mind in those few brief moments—a lifetime worth in just the span of minutes. I thought of my future that would no longer play out and of my dear Emilia who would go on without me. My relatives and friends would never hear from me again.
His arm was pulled back in one fluid motion by his head. I was certain it would be only one instant before he brought the knife to my flesh in one fell swoop and likely ended me.
As the blade was on its return trajectory, it changed paths without notice. Just as his arm came down, it was warped in the most grotesque fashion imaginable following a gnashing of the air around him.
What had once been the man’s thick shoulder had changed form. The knife fell from his limp hand, falling onto the stone surface below.
The man’s face changed, twisting into something unlike anything I had ever seen to that time. He looked to his right arm, mounting terror apparent in his expression. His body jostled in confusion as if to ask why his functions had been reduced so instantly to something less than himself.
As his body began to visibly weaken, he was pulled to one side as a foreign object was removed forcibly from his body. Horrifying screams of utter horror escaped his once quiet lungs as he attempted to reach over with his remaining appendage.
It was not a moment later that he fell to his knees, blood pooling beneath him, as he continued to scream in absolution.
All became apparent as I saw the two-handed axe, blood dripping from its blade as it was crudely removed from the man’s shoulder. What had once been the connecting juncture in his upper right arm had been reduced to dangling meat. No utility remained—the arm was left hanging by the threading of a nearly severed bone and little else.
The remaining fragments of bone, all now pointing in unnatural positions, were visible even from my position. Likewise in my line of sight was the one wielding the large axe once again. This time, he did so with confidence and no hesitance in his demeanor.
The intruder on the ground grasped desperately at his nearly severed arm, pulling at its flesh in the sudden
I did not wish for what happened. My only hope in writing this is that I have convinced you of as much.
The guest stepped forward, his grip so tight and rage so apparent that the sum of his being began to quiver in anticipation—of what, I did not know, but I suspected a fate similar to that of the rodent outstretched on the table behind me.
“You don’t have to do this.” I said so with a quiet but resolved tone. The man reacted in turn by coming closer forward with no interest in my words.
I don’t dare describe this incident for my own sake. It is only now that I relive it this many years on that I can hope to leave something behind for the sake of those who may come across this record and act accordingly.
The knife came closer, the man still not making eye contact. His deadened stare presented itself in such a manner that one would assume he were looking through me where I stood as if I were not present.
He bore his teeth as if a wild animal. Saliva fell from his agape mouth onto the floor below.
I was left with no choice. I pulled this small tool that was at my disposal on the man. It was my only means of defense with his larger frame and superior weapon obstructing any path to a more suitable option.
The site of the sizable but ineffective blade made no impression on the man so determined in his march toward my position.
My hands began to quiver for reasons entirely opposite those of my adversary. Where he had rage, I had fear. Where he had determination, I had only more fears.
He held the blade outward more, as if a viper priming a strike. If indeed a serpent, venom would have surely been seeping from his tusk-like teeth in that moment.
Many thoughts passed through my mind in those few brief moments—a lifetime worth in just the span of minutes. I thought of my future that would no longer play out and of my dear Emilia who would go on without me. My relatives and friends would never hear from me again.
His arm was pulled back in one fluid motion by his head. I was certain it would be only one instant before he brought the knife to my flesh in one fell swoop and likely ended me.
As the blade was on its return trajectory, it changed paths without notice. Just as his arm came down, it was warped in the most grotesque fashion imaginable following a gnashing of the air around him.
What had once been the man’s thick shoulder had changed form. The knife fell from his limp hand, falling onto the stone surface below.
The man’s face changed, twisting into something unlike anything I had ever seen to that time. He looked to his right arm, mounting terror apparent in his expression. His body jostled in confusion as if to ask why his functions had been reduced so instantly to something less than himself.
As his body began to visibly weaken, he was pulled to one side as a foreign object was removed forcibly from his body. Horrifying screams of utter horror escaped his once quiet lungs as he attempted to reach over with his remaining appendage.
It was not a moment later that he fell to his knees, blood pooling beneath him, as he continued to scream in absolution.
All became apparent as I saw the two-handed axe, blood dripping from its blade as it was crudely removed from the man’s shoulder. What had once been the connecting juncture in his upper right arm had been reduced to dangling meat. No utility remained—the arm was left hanging by the threading of a nearly severed bone and little else.
The remaining fragments of bone, all now pointing in unnatural positions, were visible even from my position. Likewise in my line of sight was the one wielding the large axe once again. This time, he did so with confidence and no hesitance in his demeanor.
The intruder on the ground grasped desperately at his nearly severed arm, pulling at its flesh in the sudden
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