Garth felt his body trembling then in spasms, sweat feverishly possessed him enveloping his fluttering nakedness. He was now staring down at Fido wrapped over his bike, contorted, his body in an unnatural position, his head crushed. Garth felt an impulse to run away, to get away from that spot, as if his sanity was hanging in the balance. He turned around and ran to his bike and went to leave.
Just then he heard a holler and looked back. It was the lorry driver standing beside the body looking at Fido, his gaunt face yellowed under the evening lamps which had just turned on. He looked foreign, probably Russian. He cried out something incomprehensible. Garth didn’t wait for a translation. He turned away, the piercing grim look in the driver’s eyes staying with him as he pedalled off. As if the man had seen death and ugliness and become indifferent.
He took aimless turns, hardly aware of the bike under him or the traffic and houses around. After a while he found himself at the river where he stopped and went down to the water. He fell to his knees and vomited into the gloom, the oily water receiving his squalid meal with the indifference it had got used to showing to anything that came down to its broken desolate shore.
After what felt like a wearisome endless age Garth rose, his sobbing dried out, his eyes cold. He only knew how to do one thing and that was what he felt could cleanse him. Asphodel Fields. He had to go back and face the Clan and confess his role in the destruction of his people. He left the waterline and headed back to his lair.
His system were up and running so when he got in he went straight into the Fields. He noted that many people were already there. He headed out of his hide out and ran towards his Clan base. He was there shortly. There was a strange feeling in the air, a silence. The silence in which many beings are present. He felt ill at ease as he turned in to the central square and saw before him the whole Clan. Motionless, dressed in full battle gear, faces hidden behind guards and masks.
He walked towards them. Into the open space. He felt ready inside himself to confront his part in the downfall of his people. He felt calm and light. He moved on towards the Elders. The silence was strong. When he arrived before the King he stopped. No one moved. Then after a darkening moment he saw the air before him spark and bend as if water was moving in the space. A hologram. He waited for the full form to appear. It was dark, then out of the void came a movement. Before he could tell what it was he heard a screech and saw himself on his bike on the street corner where he had waited earlier. His mind reeled, his senses breaking off into fragments as a voice spoke “You didn’t think that you could get away from your just reward, did you?” The Unseen One’s voice! Triumphant, ghoulish laughter and the beat of a battle drum took up. Ganesh fell down to his knees. It was all over now.
Garth felt his body trembling then in spasms, sweat feverishly possessed him enveloping his fluttering nakedness. He was now staring down at Fido wrapped over his bike, contorted, his body in an unnatural position, his head crushed. Garth felt an impulse to run away, to get away from that spot, as if his sanity was hanging in the balance. He turned around and ran to his bike and went to leave.
Just then he heard a holler and looked back. It was the lorry driver standing beside the body looking at Fido, his gaunt face yellowed under the evening lamps which had just turned on. He looked foreign, probably Russian. He cried out something incomprehensible. Garth didn’t wait for a translation. He turned away, the piercing grim look in the driver’s eyes staying with him as he pedalled off. As if the man had seen death and ugliness and become indifferent.
He took aimless turns, hardly aware of the bike under him or the traffic and houses around. After a while he found himself at the river where he stopped and went down to the water. He fell to his knees and vomited into the gloom, the oily water receiving his squalid meal with the indifference it had got used to showing to anything that came down to its broken desolate shore.
After what felt like a wearisome endless age Garth rose, his sobbing dried out, his eyes cold. He only knew how to do one thing and that was what he felt could cleanse him. Asphodel Fields. He had to go back and face the Clan and confess his role in the destruction of his people. He left the waterline and headed back to his lair.
His system were up and running so when he got in he went straight into the Fields. He noted that many people were already there. He headed out of his hide out and ran towards his Clan base. He was there shortly. There was a strange feeling in the air, a silence. The silence in which many beings are present. He felt ill at ease as he turned in to the central square and saw before him the whole Clan. Motionless, dressed in full battle gear, faces hidden behind guards and masks.
He walked towards them. Into the open space. He felt ready inside himself to confront his part in the downfall of his people. He felt calm and light. He moved on towards the Elders. The silence was strong. When he arrived before the King he stopped. No one moved. Then after a darkening moment he saw the air before him spark and bend as if water was moving in the space. A hologram. He waited for the full form to appear. It was dark, then out of the void came a movement. Before he could tell what it was he heard a screech and saw himself on his bike on the street corner where he had waited earlier. His mind reeled, his senses breaking off into fragments as a voice spoke “You didn’t think that you could get away from your just reward, did you?” The Unseen One’s voice! Triumphant, ghoulish laughter and the beat of a battle drum took up. Ganesh fell down to his knees. It was all over now.
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