Issue #70 : Origins In Darkness

The glint from the coin caught his attention. Even underwater, the light managed to reflect off the pristine metal. From the distorted view under the surface, it looked to be twice as large as normal. It wasn’t until he picked it up out of the cool stream that he could tell that it was just a silver dollar. Sarah had shot down his assessment. “I think this is really old, it feels like real silver to me.”

Bryan didn’t know if silver dollars ever were really made out of silver but the coin did feel heavy. He ran a thumb around the outside, feeling the thick ridges as he did so.

“You should keep it,” Sarah said, “Might as well get something out of getting roped into this creek cleanup bullshit.”

He palmed the coin and went to place it in his pocket. The instant his palm made contact with the metal, everything went black, as if he had gone blind.

Bryan yelled out and began waving his arms around, swinging his hand back and forth in front of his face to try and detect the movement. Besides seeing nothing, the weight of his arms was starting to lessen as well and in that moment, he had a nightmarish image of himself in a wheelchair, unable even to move enough to get to the bathroom. The wind picked up, the volume nearly drowning out his cries and he could just hear Sarah’s voice alongside him, likely asking him what was wrong. He screamed again as the cool breeze started to burn his skin, feeling like blisters were forming, up and down his arms.

The air flowing around him shifted, and he lurched forward when he realized that the ground was no longer underneath him. He kicked his legs back and forth through open space as the wind howled louder. Far ahead in the distance, he could make out the tiniest spot of light that was slowly growing larger as he drew closer.

He felt an intense wave of inertia as he picked up speed. The pinprick of light became a portal, and he rushed through, waving his arms in front of him in an absurd attempt to slow himself or stave off whatever was coming. The wind grew to a shrieking pitch and he felt like his nose had just started to bleed. It was that moment when the sound cut away.

Silence.

The change was so abrupt that his ears popped, leaving behind a pressure that felt like something inside his head had just ruptured. He tried to blink, but nothing happened, his eyes simply refused to respond to his commands. He went to swipe a hand across his face, but his hands weren’t working either.

He had lost all control of his body.

The world turned and twisted around him as he watched from the inside of the body which he now only occupied. He was crouched down next to the stream, looking at the same silver dollar in his hand. The coin looked different, newer and somehow more vital as if it had just been minted. The hand holding it went into motion and he watched it move into one of the pockets. The body stood up and turned around to gaze across the horizon. It took several moments before he realized what was wrong.

The city was gone.

It should have been there, just off in the horizon, the skyline clearly visible, even from here. Above him, he could see that the sky was surprisingly absent of any contrails or smog, brilliantly blue and as clear as he had ever seen it.

The world jerked, and moved again as whatever was in control of his body started to walk away from the stream and back towards the road. He discovered that the rural highway that had been up here was now a narrow, dirt road. His head was turned to the right just in time to see the back side of a buggy, pulled by horses as it made its way out of sight, around the bend. His body turned and began walking up the road in the other direction.

He jumped on the inside as three men burst out from behind the bushes just as he was passing. With someone else controlling his body, he had the luxury of devoting all his attention to simply watching and, as a result saw the blow from one of their walking sticks that flashed up in an arc and connected with the side of his head. He made a return trip to darkness.

The sound of the stream filled his head again as he stumbled back to consciousness. The water was bubbling away as it flowed past and the sky above was starting to grow dark as most of the day had now passed.

The three men from before were standing over him.

They grinned down at him, violence evident in their eyes and it was then that, even though he had no control over this body, he realized that he was still feeling every ounce of pain and discomfort, of which there was undoubtedly more to come.

One of the men was holding a knife.

That was one of the last things he noticed before a kick was delivered to his ribcage, followed by a kick to the head and stars exploded in front of him. The sound of their laughter made his anger flare up, not that he could do anything with it if he wanted to.

However much time passed before he woke up again was impossible to know for sure. He could see the banks alongside the stream, running up towards the sky above. They were still here. He couldn’t see them, but they were still here.

They offered no explanation. They just started to cut, slashing through flesh and tendons and he felt every single one. He wanted to talk to them, to beg, but the voice he required was still not his own. All he could hear was the vague, sputtered pleas from the voice that controlled this body, but distorted.

One of the men crouched down and leaned in so close, that he could feel the roughness of his stubble brush up against his cheek. The words meant nothing to him, but the serrated edge of the knife was pressed up against his neck and ripped to the side. He felt his own blood, warm as it flowed down the front of him and in his fading perceptions, watched the men as they walked off, still laughing hysterically.

Bryan’s eyes narrowed, nearly closed and then opened up, once again inside of his own body.

The visions of what he had just seen flowed into, and through him. The pain, his blood, struggling to find air as the hands that weren’t his grabbed at the wound that would never be fixed. He felt his own death.

Sarah was staring at him and he realized that he had dropped to one knee. He tried to speak, to reassure her but no words came. Consumed by the emotions of what he had seen, the anger took on an awareness of its own, like an engine long dormant, rising up from the depths of unconscious night.

“Are you all right?” Sarah asked.

Bryan started to speak but his lungs froze, or rather, stopped doing what he had been telling them to do. His body was still breathing, but he wasn’t the one doing it. His fingers and feet felt numb, as if they were falling asleep. His head was ripped with the most intense pain he had ever thought possible and suddenly, the world was shrinking away from him, like an old television that had just been turned off. The world shrunk until there was just a tiny speck of light somewhere off in front of him. He felt vertigo, the sensation of falling, darkness rushing up towards him until he fell into it, and knew no more.

The new host, the original owner of the coin, complete within this new body, flexed his hands, feeling in the pocket for the coin that had belonged to him so long ago. He would have his revenge for the crimes that had been committed on him, for the violence he had suffered at the hands of those men, so long ago. The debt had to be paid and the world would bathe in its own blood.

This girl would be the first.

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