The Sinister Minister
Retired Forum Staff
💻 Oldtimer
Well, I haven't tried to write a short story in some years, and it is a practice I'd like to re-adopt. Therefore, I've started to create a bit of a short story to reaquaint myself with that swirling vortex that is my mind/imagination. Therefore, I present, to you, an untitled, new work. This is the first segment I have written. I realize that the protagonist doesn't have a name and is referred to as |protagonist|, so bear with me as I attempt to pick names. All names used are temporary, since I know how terrible I am with them.
Well, comments are welcomed and appreciated. Enjoy!
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"Prop him up against the toilet, just where he was this morning. I'll arrange to have us sit in on the tribunal. Get some sleep, we'll...sssspeakkkkk..."
With that, |protagonist|'s hearing and sight began to give out. The men conversing at in the threshold of his chamber were becoming less of an imposing, fearful sight, and more of a quizzical blur. Content that the situation was jovial and whimsical, |protagonist| passed into a drug-induced slumber.
His dreams were tumultuous that night - nothing seemed familiar to him. A deluge of images and scenes from what he assumed to be a past flooded in front of him. It was unbearable, as if he were being instructed to do the impossible, with the only other option being to give his life over to some unknown assailant.
The visions grew more painful. |protagonist| began to realize that the images were now soaring at him, colliding with him and then passing on into some maelstrom he could not force himself to turn and behold. His face started to swell, as the pain grew more unbearable. Finally, he surfaced out of a body of water, looking at a bright, clear sky.
Much to the surprising disappointment of |protagonist|, the sunlight was merely the last of what seemed to be the most jumbled series of images he had ever remembered seeing. That was when he realized the problem ahead of him - he could not remember any of his previous dreams, nor anything of his identity, his purpose, or his discomfort. One thing, however, was certain - the pain he had experienced was certainly no illusion. Averting his gaze from the blinding fluorescence above, |protagonist| looked forward to see a stark man staring him in the face, cradling his hand.
"Sweet Mother Mercy, kid. I could 'a' brought a corpse out of its sleep like that. You wake up next time, you here? I don't need to lose my job over an assignment like you. Now c'mon, the assembly's waitin'."
"A..assembly? Wh..what are we going to talk about?" asked |protagonist|, fighting to let out each word, as his troubled mind tried to let him speak, as if they were his first words.
The stark man let out a pained sigh as he drew a cigarette from within his pocket. He then withdrew a lighter, struck the flint, and started the tip of the cigarette burning. He took one large puff, slowly turning his head such that he'd blow the smoke away from |protagonist|.
"Ok, here's the deal, kid. They're holding you here overnight as stated in the SCOM so that we can get this whole ordeal over with - the day's annoyances, you know, kid?"
"I...what's SCOM?"
The man's honest expression turned into a faint scowl as he realized that much of what he bothered to explain was likely beyond |protagonist|.
"It's the 'Standardized Criminal Operations Mandate'. It says that you're gonna stay right here until you play your part as a witness. Everyone knows that you're one of the only people who saw Broderick killed. Now let's go, and I'm sure you'll be past this a lot quicker."
"Killed? I saw someone killed? Why would he get killed? Who'd kill? I..." |protagonist| stopped mid sentence as a new sensation coursed through his body and through his mind. Anxiety, for the first time, had begun to take hold of him as he realized the gravity of the situation - he knew nothing, but was to hold the fate of a man in his hands.
Having lost whatever patience was left, the stark man wiped his hand over his face, not believing that someone could be so torn by a solitary experience. The man stood with his gaze still fixed on |protagonist|, hesitated for a moment, and then spoke.
"Look, there's no time for this, kid. We gotta get going to the assembly. I know thinkin' about it makes you sick, but you gotta get this over with, or they'll throw you in a cell with that maniac!"
|protagonist| was about to ask about the criminal, but, realizing that the impatient visage before him would not have time to explain, he submitted to the man's request and got up to follow him out of the room. Now that |protagonist| was mobile, he looked around, taking stock of the entire room. Behind him was a toilet, unused, which vibrating violently whenever any other plumming was used in proximity to it. To his left was a sink and a mirror, both in pristine condition. Although the treatment of witnesses seemed a little harsh, thought |protagonist|, he still felt he was being treated well enough. To his right was a rather drab, but welcoming looking bed, accompanied by a very inviting chair. Attached to the end of the bed was a device that much resembled a television. Although |protagonist| could not find any familiarity associated with the device in his now gaping mind, he assumed that it was there to entertain witnesses being kept in such rooms. The room, itself, seemed inviting enough. The cold, sterile, white tile below looked as if it was as cold as a winter's day, but it was, as |protagonist| found upon waking, oddly warm. The walls were painted an equally sterile white, and the room was illuminated by
piercing, overhead fluoresence, which was the rude awakening of |protagonist|.
While passing the mirror on the wall on his way out, |protagonist| stopped to obseerve, for what he thought was the first time, his own self. He figured himself being of average height, as he stood nearly as tall as the man that confronted him upon his waking, as well, he was as tall as the armored guard waiting, like a statue, outside of the room. |protagonist| was dressed in a rather disappointing outfit that was devoid of flare and feature. It was a rather dull grey, from shirt to shoes, that was barely breathable and rather rough. |protagonist| could not understand what would posess himself to cover his body in such undesirable wrappings, so he chanced a guess that he was forced to wear them due to some mandate. He was clean-shaven, his hair was functionally short, and his complexion was fair - he had all the aspects of a model citizen. Rather unimpressed by what he could see of himself, he continued on, out of the room, with his stark companion. Now, |protagonist| figured, would be a good time to find out who this apathetic man was.
"Who might you be," |protagonist| inquired, "do you work here?"
"Yeah, I work here," replied the man, lifelessly, as if he'd been ask for the hundredth time that day, "I'm in charge of witness approval and accomodation. It's a lowsy job, but the pay's good."
"I see. So, you're in charge of taking care of...me?"
"You could say that."
"Umm...what's your name?"
"The name's Dirk, and that's all you need to know."
"Ok...Dirk. Dirk! I like that!"
"Uh-huh. Well, don't get too excited over it. We won't be seeing each other again after this is done."
"Why not? We can't be friends? I don't recall having any friends, so I should start here!"
Completely tickled by |protagonist|'s out-of-place enthusiasm, Dirk let out a chuckle, then proceeded to recover his stark composure.
"We don't make friends in the business, kid. It doesn't do us any good. The only kind of friendship we get is bribery, and bribery doesn't fatten my paycheck."
"Oh," replied |protagonist| with much disappointment, "ok. Maybe you can tell me what I'm supposed to do at the assembly. I don't think I've ever been."
Well, comments are welcomed and appreciated. Enjoy!
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"Prop him up against the toilet, just where he was this morning. I'll arrange to have us sit in on the tribunal. Get some sleep, we'll...sssspeakkkkk..."
With that, |protagonist|'s hearing and sight began to give out. The men conversing at in the threshold of his chamber were becoming less of an imposing, fearful sight, and more of a quizzical blur. Content that the situation was jovial and whimsical, |protagonist| passed into a drug-induced slumber.
His dreams were tumultuous that night - nothing seemed familiar to him. A deluge of images and scenes from what he assumed to be a past flooded in front of him. It was unbearable, as if he were being instructed to do the impossible, with the only other option being to give his life over to some unknown assailant.
The visions grew more painful. |protagonist| began to realize that the images were now soaring at him, colliding with him and then passing on into some maelstrom he could not force himself to turn and behold. His face started to swell, as the pain grew more unbearable. Finally, he surfaced out of a body of water, looking at a bright, clear sky.
Much to the surprising disappointment of |protagonist|, the sunlight was merely the last of what seemed to be the most jumbled series of images he had ever remembered seeing. That was when he realized the problem ahead of him - he could not remember any of his previous dreams, nor anything of his identity, his purpose, or his discomfort. One thing, however, was certain - the pain he had experienced was certainly no illusion. Averting his gaze from the blinding fluorescence above, |protagonist| looked forward to see a stark man staring him in the face, cradling his hand.
"Sweet Mother Mercy, kid. I could 'a' brought a corpse out of its sleep like that. You wake up next time, you here? I don't need to lose my job over an assignment like you. Now c'mon, the assembly's waitin'."
"A..assembly? Wh..what are we going to talk about?" asked |protagonist|, fighting to let out each word, as his troubled mind tried to let him speak, as if they were his first words.
The stark man let out a pained sigh as he drew a cigarette from within his pocket. He then withdrew a lighter, struck the flint, and started the tip of the cigarette burning. He took one large puff, slowly turning his head such that he'd blow the smoke away from |protagonist|.
"Ok, here's the deal, kid. They're holding you here overnight as stated in the SCOM so that we can get this whole ordeal over with - the day's annoyances, you know, kid?"
"I...what's SCOM?"
The man's honest expression turned into a faint scowl as he realized that much of what he bothered to explain was likely beyond |protagonist|.
"It's the 'Standardized Criminal Operations Mandate'. It says that you're gonna stay right here until you play your part as a witness. Everyone knows that you're one of the only people who saw Broderick killed. Now let's go, and I'm sure you'll be past this a lot quicker."
"Killed? I saw someone killed? Why would he get killed? Who'd kill? I..." |protagonist| stopped mid sentence as a new sensation coursed through his body and through his mind. Anxiety, for the first time, had begun to take hold of him as he realized the gravity of the situation - he knew nothing, but was to hold the fate of a man in his hands.
Having lost whatever patience was left, the stark man wiped his hand over his face, not believing that someone could be so torn by a solitary experience. The man stood with his gaze still fixed on |protagonist|, hesitated for a moment, and then spoke.
"Look, there's no time for this, kid. We gotta get going to the assembly. I know thinkin' about it makes you sick, but you gotta get this over with, or they'll throw you in a cell with that maniac!"
|protagonist| was about to ask about the criminal, but, realizing that the impatient visage before him would not have time to explain, he submitted to the man's request and got up to follow him out of the room. Now that |protagonist| was mobile, he looked around, taking stock of the entire room. Behind him was a toilet, unused, which vibrating violently whenever any other plumming was used in proximity to it. To his left was a sink and a mirror, both in pristine condition. Although the treatment of witnesses seemed a little harsh, thought |protagonist|, he still felt he was being treated well enough. To his right was a rather drab, but welcoming looking bed, accompanied by a very inviting chair. Attached to the end of the bed was a device that much resembled a television. Although |protagonist| could not find any familiarity associated with the device in his now gaping mind, he assumed that it was there to entertain witnesses being kept in such rooms. The room, itself, seemed inviting enough. The cold, sterile, white tile below looked as if it was as cold as a winter's day, but it was, as |protagonist| found upon waking, oddly warm. The walls were painted an equally sterile white, and the room was illuminated by
piercing, overhead fluoresence, which was the rude awakening of |protagonist|.
While passing the mirror on the wall on his way out, |protagonist| stopped to obseerve, for what he thought was the first time, his own self. He figured himself being of average height, as he stood nearly as tall as the man that confronted him upon his waking, as well, he was as tall as the armored guard waiting, like a statue, outside of the room. |protagonist| was dressed in a rather disappointing outfit that was devoid of flare and feature. It was a rather dull grey, from shirt to shoes, that was barely breathable and rather rough. |protagonist| could not understand what would posess himself to cover his body in such undesirable wrappings, so he chanced a guess that he was forced to wear them due to some mandate. He was clean-shaven, his hair was functionally short, and his complexion was fair - he had all the aspects of a model citizen. Rather unimpressed by what he could see of himself, he continued on, out of the room, with his stark companion. Now, |protagonist| figured, would be a good time to find out who this apathetic man was.
"Who might you be," |protagonist| inquired, "do you work here?"
"Yeah, I work here," replied the man, lifelessly, as if he'd been ask for the hundredth time that day, "I'm in charge of witness approval and accomodation. It's a lowsy job, but the pay's good."
"I see. So, you're in charge of taking care of...me?"
"You could say that."
"Umm...what's your name?"
"The name's Dirk, and that's all you need to know."
"Ok...Dirk. Dirk! I like that!"
"Uh-huh. Well, don't get too excited over it. We won't be seeing each other again after this is done."
"Why not? We can't be friends? I don't recall having any friends, so I should start here!"
Completely tickled by |protagonist|'s out-of-place enthusiasm, Dirk let out a chuckle, then proceeded to recover his stark composure.
"We don't make friends in the business, kid. It doesn't do us any good. The only kind of friendship we get is bribery, and bribery doesn't fatten my paycheck."
"Oh," replied |protagonist| with much disappointment, "ok. Maybe you can tell me what I'm supposed to do at the assembly. I don't think I've ever been."
.