| A Story With No Title - AD Pickled Yoda
A flurry of wind sent the brown leaves tumbling end over end ahead of him along the dark, glistening pavement. The gust of wind seemed to have come from nowhere. ‘Spooky.’ he thought, as he hurried on. The heavy clouds above gave off an aura of dampness, suggesting that at any minute that the filthy weather would unleash icy cold rain into the grim grey world. A photographic flash of light heralded thunder and the start of a mighty storm.
He sighed. It was not his day. He ran for the nearest cover, a building on the side of the road. Rain beat a staccato rhythm on the roof above him as he huddled in a doorway. He was late. He looked at his watch. I should have been there ten minutes ago. He looked out at the pouring rain. Another minute won’t make a difference. Maybe it will get lighter. A sudden, violent flickering of the street lamp above him argued otherwise. There was a buzzing static noise, and then a faint tink as the bulb blew out. The blessed light vanished. Shit.
A minute passed and there was no respite from the rain. Nothing for it. Have to go. Where am I? He saw a street sign. Oh. Nearly there. Good. “Nearly where?” he asked himself. He didn’t really know. A mysterious note had simply said that he should be there at a certain time today. He would’ve dismissed it, but it was marked. Marked with the sign of a brotherhood he had once belonged to. Had once founded. Had once been thrown out of. “A liability.” They said. “Dangerous.” He had accepted his fate and time had moved on. Years passed and those brief months of subterfuge and schemes became a dim recollection.
But what would they want of him now? A reunion seemed out of the question for the GWSOoM. The ‘S’ stood for ‘secret’, after all. It was more likely that the order wanted something from him. But what? My head on a platter or my skills? Violence didn’t seem out of the question. Memories surfaced and played like a mental filmstrip. Screams. Shouting. Maniacal Laughter. His laughter. Violence is nothing new to them. He fought back the rising panic and marched out into the rain. Visibility was poor but the rows of street lights gave him an indication of where he was going. Left… right… right. There. Wait. That can’t be right. He checked the address. It was right. Well. They’ve certainly been busy. Straight ahead, a few hundred metres away was a temple of sorts. Surrounded by trees it seemed to dominate the landscape.
He walked forward slowly. There were no street lights now. Only the moonlight and occasional flashes of lightning provided any illumination. The relentless rain and growing darkness created an eerie atmosphere. What dangers lurked in shadows unknown? A flash of lightning seemed to reveal a hint of movement in his peripheral vision. Must be the trees moving in the wind. Was that a pair of eyes glowing in the dark? Another flash. The temple loomed ominously before him. What are those things on the roof? He strained his eyes. Must be statues. He could’ve sworn he saw a slight movement from one of them.
Too late to go back. The wind howled. Nearly there. Rustling behind him. What was that? Then he was at the door. He knocked and the door opened with a long creak. “Hello?” No answer. “Hello?”
He entered the darkness reluctantly. The door slammed shut.
*thud*
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