TheRockInception
You're literally looking at a $2,000 meme machine
The Spectral Man
The long decrepit hallway seemed to never end as a human shape ran through it. Candle lit and surrounded by cobblestone, the man ran through it with such haste it seemed as if he was late to his own wedding. But this man was late to no wedding. “Silly little boy.” A voice echoed throughout the never ending hallway when suddenly, the hallway ended, and the man was looking straight at through a window that lead to a view of a drop of 300 feet and a crack of lightning. The man held his chest as he looked around, his heart wanting to jump out of his body. He strode left and looked around nervously. He seemed to have entered a magnificent dining room, something like an Arabian palace could only compare to its splendor and beauty. The man did not take a moment to sit down and eat, or drink, and walked confidently towards the end of the table, when a tall man, at least 7 feet, appeared in front of him. “Fancy thinking you could escape me, little one.” The smaller man was frozen in his place, sweat bleeding through his suit as the taller man touched his forehead with his pointer finger. The smaller one fell backwards, the taller man that was dressed like him towering over him. “So much disappointment. Man has yet to send me a challenge. Pity.” The taller man had drawn an ornate revolver, complete with gold engravings and an ivory grip. He spun the chamber and pointed the barrel to the man on the floor, and pulled the trigger. The loud bang was obscured by the pouring rain as the taller man put away the weapon into his coat pocket. He snapped his figures and instantly merged with the air around him, as hooded black robed figures poured into the dining room.
“I say we gaut tu go down thar and burn the place to the ground, but the county wun't have nothin' of it.” The bartender filled a shot of scotch and passed it to the only patron in the room, a younger blonde haired man named Joseph. He simply nodded and looked at the bartender to formulate a reply. The bartender was brunette, and had green eyes like an emerald. Her hair was tied up into a ponytail and had a fair complexion, with no blemishes or marks. “Well, I only moved here, but uh, thanks.” Joseph drank the shot in one gulp, his eye twitching at how strong the scotch was. “There's a damned murdurer in that castle, and a cultust. I'm surproised the place dusn't fall into the ocean for crissakes. I mean, luhk at it! It's teaterin' on the edge!” The bartender mentioned, putting away the bottle of scotch as an older fellow dressed in a denim coat, a torn pair of jeans, and fingerless leather gloves put a hand on her shoulder. “Irene, don't go scarin' the newcomer.” The older man looked at Joseph. “You go on and get a good sleep, now. She's just an old wife spinnin' yahns.” The younger one nodded. “Thank you.” Joseph mentioned, getting up from his seat as he spoke. He left the small, quaint bar as the rain poured upon him, and the light that never warmed shone upon him.
The townspeople gathered at the bulletin to see the fine piece of paper that somehow materialized and remained perfectly dry through the storm that regularly plagued the town. “Dear to whom it may concern,” The words were uttered by a voice looking at it. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Baron Magnus, the owner of the castle that overlooks your small village. I feel that within the time I have established my residency here some odd decade or so I have not extended a hand of kindness to my neighbors. Tonight at 6 o' clock, I shall do so. I look forward to meeting and knowing my fellow man and woman. Signed, Baron Magnus Der Teuful.“ The townspeople looked at each other with confusion.
“I don't believe a word of it. He's a cannibal. “He's gonna cook us in a big stew. I know it.“ “Only the Devil waits for ten years before trying to know his neighbor.“ The young man named Joseph stepped out of his small cabin and meandered towards the center of town. “What on earth is going on?“ He asked the town baker, Jorge. He pointed to the mass in front of them. “Piece of paper appeared over night, From the castle, no less. I smell a mob.“ Joseph raised an eyebrow when he heard 'the castle'. “Sounds interesting, Perhaps I'll-” The baker put his hand on Joseph's chest and looked at him like a father disciplining his son. “Don't you even dare. That man will probably string you up and your body parts like the Bayeux Tapestry. Well, err, I suppose you could go there. Just my two cents.” Jorge released his hand from the youngster and went back into the bakery, feeling the curiosity Joseph radiated and he shook his head in dismay.
Joseph stood at the long doors of the castle, looking behind him, then at the place. It was quite large, even from far away, and he could feel the elevation even standing on solid firm ground. He looked at his watch, which read 5:59 PM, and the beautiful sunset signified this as clouds slowly covered and hid it away. He also looked at his coat pocket, which contained a semi-automatic handgun he had used during his brief service in the expeditionary forces, and tucked it away as he opened the door. The lobby seemed to be quite nice indeed, an interesting contrast from the grim, Scottish forest behind Joseph. Without hesitation, Joseph slipped inside and closed the long door.
“It's a shame really, that village is filled with inbreds and conniving savages, and you are the only individual to come forth.” A harsh voice echoed throughout the lobby as Joseph looked for the source, his eyes darting like a cat in an alleyway. He felt a tap on his shoulder when a towering man in a suit similar to his stood over him. “Oh. You must be the Baron.” Joseph stepped back and extended a hand. The taller man shook it, though instead of regular skin contacting the younger one's hand, a glove shook it. Even though the taller one complimented him on his courage, something felt odd to Joseph. The glove was as cold as cadaver, and the older one was as pale as a sheet, yet he looked healthy, with no scars or blemishes, and no hint of congestion trailed him. He seemed... otherworldly in a way. “Come. I presume those... people didn't provide you with proper nourishment.” The older one waved his hand and entered another hallway as Joseph followed him.
The pair walked side by side down a hallway lined with windows and guest rooms. Joseph presumed these were servant's quarters, but dared not to ask in fear of upsetting the taller one. The scene outside was reminiscent of Starry Night Over the Rhone- the seas were angry, with waves 5 feet tall and dark as the sky that fell upon them. In the distance, Joseph could see small, weak and fading lights in the sky and what he presumed was the shore. White scars thundered and struck the sky. “Tell me, what do you do, Joseph?” Joseph was shocked that he knew his name without even speaking it. In fact, this detail had made him uncomfortable, even moreso. “I... I paint. I sell paintings for a living, sir.” The Baron nodded. “I practiced art myself when I was younger. But, I moved to a more, profitable, occupation.” Joseph's heart beat faster as the Baron finished his sentence. But his train of thought was interrupted when his face met the next door, and the Baron pushed it.
The dining room was marvelous. The plates were intricate and ornate, with gold lettering and symbols inscribed, and a heavenly smell drifted into the younger one's nostrils. He could see at the end of the long table was a 3 course meal- soup, filet mignon, asparagus, red wine, and a piece of apple pie. It was the strangest thing, in that this very meal was the last meal Joseph had eaten before traveling to Scotland. Joseph walked towards the end of the table in complete disbelief. There was no chance in hell the Baron could have known... was there? Joseph sat down as the older one sat at the head of the table with a bottle of champagne and a glass. As he was quite thirsty, Joseph drank the wine and proceeded to eat the filet mignon. Joseph also noted his meal taste the same exact way it did the last time he had it. The moisture of the steak, the very texture of it, had not changed when he last remembered it. And the wine glass seemed to fill itself even when Joseph took a long swig.
The artist looked at his hands and he felt they were gloved, exactly like the Baron's. He got up from his seat as the Baron did the same. He ran to a window and saw through the curtain clouds, there was a partition. A lone star shone as Joseph felt his heart rate rise, like he was frozen in his place. He had seen everything the Baron saw some 100 odd years ago, the obsidian pendant from Montezuma, the infiltration of the world order, the lost, innocent hiker he had murdered only yesterday... everything. He felt a presence behind him and dived forward as he felt a dagger slice through the air.
“Fancy thinking I was a kind and frail old man!” The Baron yelled as Joseph drew his pistol and got off the ground. “You've seen it all, haven't you! They were right... the Devil himself!” Joseph fired a slug at the Baron but with cunning precision, he cut the .45 caliber bullet in half. “No, you idiot fool!” The Baron charged forward to stab Joseph, but he sidestepped, and the Baron fell over. Joseph shook as he squeezed the trigger and instantly, a red spot bled from the Baron's back. He turned around and smacked the gun out of Joseph's hand and pinned him to the ground. The baron moved to plunge his dagger into the artist's chest, but Joseph managed to catch it as the blade stood a millimeter above his chest. With all the strength the man had overpowered the older one to the right, and got up. He noticed the baron's dagger had slipped to his feet, and without thought he picked it up. He felt a strange and foreign power surge through him, and picked the tired Baron up by the neck, and brought him against a glass window. “When you kill me, you kill the agent of evil. I am not the devil, but you shall become him soon. You will do all that I have done, and more.” He laughed as Joseph drove the dagger straight into the beating heart of the Baron, and kicked him out the window, and heard a scream unknown and secret to him. He stood over the broken window and saw a hand reach through the dark water, then fall. Joseph regained his composure and turned only to find an army of hooded, black figures, their hands gloved and holding blue flame, and the one in front of him was a being that resembled unlike anything Joseph, the Unaltered One, had ever seen.
First and foremost, the image first scene in this thread gave me the inspiration and idea to write this story. This image was also cropped and edited for the Blue Oyster Cult album Imaginos. If you've never heard of the album, check it out, it's really heavy with interesting, whimsical, and nonsensical lyrics that contribute to it's billing of the "Bedtime story for the children of the damned.". Not only that, but some elements of this story, i.e the obsidian pendant and the Baron's singlehanded infiltration of world history and his alteration of it are some elements present in Imaginos. Again, this story was inspired, and is not a retelling of the album. I hope you enjoyed the story, and I bid good luck to all those who have submitted to the contest as well. May the best (wo)man win.
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