Death and the Hermitage Options

[Guest_sehrgut_*]

DEATH AND THE HERMITAGE

 I hated him. His very presence was offensive to me, so when I knew Death would come for him, I did not tell him.
 Ask me not how I knew, for it seemed as in a dream; I knew, but had no recollection of discovering. It was as though I had always known. I was expecting it, and could hardly keep calm while I talked with him, and called him "brother."
 Every word the sallow face spoke, every bob of the white-wooled head, brought with it a joy of knowing I would soon never have to see that head or hear that cringing voice again.
 At mealtime, in the Great Hall, I kept watching him — sharp-eyed as a child — watching for the faintest sigh of poison or of illness. He laughed and joked with the rest, and sat soberly as stone when the Master entered; and in all, survived.
 My secret knowledge was nearly driving me mad, by now; for I knew beyond a shadow of suspicion that he ought to have been dead, now day was so far spent. I wandered the corridors of the hermitage until late in the night, my candle the only gleam or sign of vigil. Then, as I rounded a corner, I saw a huge, black-robed figure duck into a doorway. The cowl was empty, and the whole robe was filled with nought but shadow. There was a silver gleam I knew to be a sickle-blade at his side.
 His chamber was fatefully two doors from where I stood frozen. I turned toward it, and then glanced back over my shoulder. Near Death's chamber stood now a grotesque of a bull: huge, tawny-black, head lowered before disproportionately immense shoulders. It looked at me with a gaze so terrible and expectant that I turned away.
 "Brother, brother!" I called, pounding his oaken door.
 "Brother!" again.
 The door opened, and, suddenly speechless, I realized I was about to kill this man I called "brother;" the man I slyly named "friend." Somehow, hoarse-voiced, nearly dumb, I directed him to the chamber down the hall. He could not see the Death-bull. Somehow, I knew before I ever roused him that only I could see it. As he entered the room, the bull snorted once, stomped a hoof, and followed him inside.
 I heard a shuffle, a cut-off cry, and then silence. Cautiously, I walked to the door, and entered.
 There, lying gored on the stone before me, lay this man, the man I most despised. His blood flowed gently, freely from his chest, and I watched it. I was now the only one left to despise; I was the hateful.
 Now consumed with sorrow, I looked up, and was filled instead with terror. I backed up, trying to leave by the door; but there was no longer a door. In fright, I spun around, but faced only a wall.
 Sobbing, I sunk down. I heard a snort, and the stomping of a hoof. Looking back, I saw the bull trotting slowly toward me.

[Guest_Cailean_*]

Very evocative and dark, I was reminded very much of Lovecraft. Lovecraft has been accused of being dry sometimes, as was Bram Stoker, but I think it's because the medium they both used is a little distant from the reader, such as The Whisperers In The Darkness uses a set of correspondence to tell the story, similar to Stoker's Dracula.

This gives a feeling of secondhandness and very much a slightly altered perception of the situation, which means we do not see things with our own eyes, but through the eyes of the speaker.

That's the feel I get from your piece here, there is definitely a mystery which we can only see a small part of, but the speaker does not elucidate - why would they? They know the story and we are only seeing a fragment of their thoughts - they do not need to explain the story to themselves, let alone us, a silent observer in the hindbrain, witnessing these acts.

The way you have written this piece is a bit more personal than Lovecraft or Stoker's slightly distant approach however, but while different, I do not think that this relative closeness to the protagonist is in any way a flaw ... it is merely different.

But in any case, definitely you are writing in a style you are fluent in, and the piece works with minimal changes, for the moment, I cannot see anything really that jumps out at me requiring changes. Of course, I am only human.

Forgive my lateness in my reply, my computer has been down and at the moment, working with a half functioning system. The wonders of technology.

Welcome to MM.

Cailean.

[Guest_sehrgut_*]

Cailean-

 Thanks for the feedback! Hmmm. The name of H.P. Lovecraft keeps coming up this summer, in various unrelated contexts. I may have to read something of his. Can you recommend something? Also, Stoker. Dracula's been on my "too be read" list forever and a day, so I'll have to hurry up with that, too.

Thanks again,
 Keith

[Guest_Cailean_*]

Two of my favourite stories are "The Thing on the Doorstep" which has to have one of the most arresting starts for a story I must admit ... also my absolute favourite story "The Whisperers in the Darkness". As for more modern horror, I am a particular fan of Clive Barker and Jack Yeovil (who only lightly touches horror but definitely has his moments) who is also known as "Kim Newman". Of Clive Barker, Cabal and The Great and Secret Show are probably my favourite stories, with Jack Yeovil I am partial to Beasts in Velvet (genre it may be, no matter), Drachenfels (ditto) and the Demon Download series, but the latter is only appreciated if you enjoy the surreal mixed in with strange new technology and an alternate history of the world.

Dracula is to horror that Lord of the Rings is to fantasy - it's not necessarily the best that's out there, but it's definitely the root of much of current horror. Of course, something similar could be said of Poe, but as far as I can follow it, it went pretty much Poe, to Stoker, to Lovecraft, to King/Lumley/Koontz/Barker.

Just a few threads to start with.

Cailean.

[Guest_sehrgut_*]

Cailean—
 Thanks for the leads. I will most definitely add them to my (admittedly lengthy) list of books to read.
—Keith

[Guest_Pandora_*]

Captivating story! I like the colonial feel of it as well as the style of writing. Nice personification. I can offer no crit because I stink at writing in this genre or this style, even though I thouroughly enjoy reading it. Well done!

Laura

[Guest_sehrgut_*]

Laura—
 Sorry for the late response . . . Too much real life right now, I guess. Anyway, thanks for the readthrough and compliment. It is yet a work in progress (especially to remove that awful faux-Poe feel — I was reading a lot of Poe when I had the dream on which this is based).
Cheers,
 Keith

[Guest_Zeus˛_*]

Keith,
or as they say, Evil begets Evil. Like the twist of using a Bull
as the doer. Wonder if he snorts "Olay" after each encounter.
Captivating piece.
Larry