by Steven Evans
Table of Contents
Title Page
Opening
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
The Mark
Steven Evans
A Zombie Cupcake Book
Zombie Cupcake Press, 83 Ducie Street, Manchester, M1 2JQ www.zombiecupcakepress.com
Published by Zombie Cupcake Press 2017
THE MARK
© Copyright Steven Evans 2017
All rights reserved.
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events and organisations are purely coincidental.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, nor translated into a machine language, without the written permission of the publisher.
Condition of sale
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Cover design © Copyright Zombie Cupcake Press 2017
Editing by Emily Cargile
Proofreading by Caitlin McCulloch
Opening
It was quiet, too quiet; even the sporadic wind rustling the leaves was just too quiet. All the noises behind me were muted, and my attention was fixed solely on the stagnant road before me. I knew something was coming. Something bad was about to happen, and I was powerless to stop it.
I couldn’t believe my eyes! What they were trying to make me think I was seeing was just impossible. A blurry image materialized from out of the darkness and made its way down my front porch. Gliding in air, its feet never touched the ground. The street lights flickered and dimmed, and each one, in turn, exploded in brilliant sparks as the figure went by. I was scared but too curious to run. As it came closer, there was something familiar, a sense of connection that I just couldn’t explain.
It was close, nearly face to face, and now I knew what it was. I knew who it was!
Her face was still covered in a veil with only her long dark hair visible. Her arms were still twisted and tied behind her back. She was still drenched and leaving wet foot prints trailing behind her. She looked exactly the same, except that now there was a staunch odor of melted flesh and smoldering ashes invading the air around her.
I wanted to reach out and touch her, if only to prove she was there and reassure myself that I wasn’t crazy and hadn’t completely lost my mind yet. I was shaking so badly that I didn’t know if I could grasp the veil strong enough to pull it down, and I wondered if I should really even try. It didn’t matter. Before I could reach out for her, I was spun around so abruptly that I became dizzy. It all disappeared. Everything was gone: the house, the trees, the streets, and even the mysterious woman were gone without a trace.
I was left staring into those same cold dead eyes that had visited me so many times in my dreams. I waited for her sharp tongue to cut into my flesh with accusations of broken promises and her condemnation that my spirit is forever damned, but they never came. Instead, her words were calm and almost soothing as she spoke without movement.
She said, “For centuries, I have suffered alone. My hatred gives me life beyond death. My death, which fuels my rage, was unwarranted. I searched for a soul that was similar to mine, believing it to be nonexistent. Then, from the darkness, I heard your anguish, tasted your tears, and felt your heart break. Your sorrow, so sweet, captivated me. It was a temptation even I could not resist. So, I searched you out, across the big empty Heavens, traveling through space and time to find you. We are kindred spirits brought together by death, our souls bound by sorrow, and where only one once dwelled… two hearts shall beat the same.”
With that she gently laid her hand on my chest, closed her eyes, and after a few moments, she spoke again.
“I place my mark upon your soul! It’s a mark that can neither be seen nor washed away. You may not remember today or tomorrow, but someday you will come to understand its full ramifications, and on that day, I will return for you. For now, you need your rest.” Then she whispered softly, “sleep, sleep… sleeeep!”
Chapter One
A New Focus
It had been months since the light disappeared from my life. Darkness had yielded to love and, yet, I was still as empty as when Willow had first visited me. The dreams were a mixture of warning and Hell! They told what happens when you give in to sorrow and let your fears rule your life. Though the veil of doom had been lifted from my eyes, I still felt her connection.
My scars served as a constant reminder of the impact loss carries with it and the devastation that is left in its wake. I had surrendered to my pain! I hadn’t been able to see past their memories, and I had allowed myself to lose sight-- to lose my grasp on reality. The wounds were healing now, though I still felt the mark pulsing from time to time. My chest was mangled with jagged lines etched permanently from my collar bone to my navel. I feared that I may have lost more that night than I realized.
Blood was replenishing itself like an eternal spring, and the tissue was regenerating, yet the aftermath was a grotesquely littered terrain left branded on my chest. Bones had healed and regained full strength, but through it all, I was still not whole. There was an emptiness inside of me. I couldn’t explain the complete lack of interest I had in just breathing or the total lack of motivation I felt. She had tapped into more than just my soul; my very will to exist was in limbo!
I believed part of me had never returned once the connection had been broken, and that she had carried it off with her to whatever Hell she was banished to. In any case, I was missing vital and necessary emotions that drove normal men to be ambitious and productive. Will those feelings ever come back and make me whole again?
I remembered that night. It haunted me with every breath. The way I had been trapped against the tree and couldn’t move. I had been helpless. Tears filled my eyes and flowed freely as I recalled my flesh being stripped and torn down my chest, and how cold and numb my toes had grown from drowning in blood draining from fresh wounds. The nightmare always began and ended with her cold dead eyes staring at me! I was ashamed that I had given in to her so easily. I hadn’t put up much of a fight, and I had even offered her my heart.
Since then, I was alone, my life was meaningless, and I had no purpose. Not that I really wanted one. The sun was bright but paled miserably in comparison with my daughter’s glow. She had sacrificed herself for me. Without hesitating, she had saved me from the clutches of certain death. I can’t remember if I had even wanted to be saved or rescued. Did I call out to her? Or did she just know I needed her as she always has? I wasn’t sure if I was worth what she gave up for me. With that one brief touch, her warmth had filled me. She had passed her essence to me in order to protect me.
Each time the wind blew and stirred the curtains from their resting place, I felt her icy caress cuddled up to me, and the tiny hairs stood
at attention as the goose bumps formed. I was jumpy and easily startled; she had left her imprint deep within me. I looked for her in every cloud that billowed in the sky and in the dust devils that winded down the road. I wasn’t positive whether I was keeping a close watch out for her from a fear that she might return, or from a desire that she would come back. I knew she was gone. I had witnessed my angel’s pure love dissolve her hatred into a nothingness, which had vanished within the silence of the shadows, but she had always been able to find a way back to me. Would this time be different?
Willow had said that our souls were bound together for all eternity, and I could never escape her reach. She had been intelligent enough to track me down in a new place where I’d had no connections or previous ties. I hoped she was gone for good, but the worry that she might return was constantly in my mind, trying to poke its nose out any chance it got. The thing that really bothered me, though, was… how the hell had she been able to visit me when I’d been awake? She’d made first contact only through my dreams, but there at the end I hadn’t been sleeping, and what we did damn sure hadn’t been a dream.
My time since then was spent dissecting the events of the past with no concern for the here and now. My face was looking more like an abandoned property. The grass and weeds were now a thriving jungle, and my clothes resembled thrift store rejects. My once well-kept head of hair had become the poster child for the homeless. I sat there in my chair revisiting all the sins and regrets from my recent past, stewing over decisions better left unmade, and condemning my own actions. I felt comfortable in my solitude, and I was at peace with my loneliness. But, does it have to be this way? Can I repair the damage I’ve caused, or is it my fate to be pining away over things that I can no more control than change?
No! I am my own master; I control my life. I write my story, and it’s not over yet! Not by a long shot! As I was sitting there spitting fumes and chewing on the bad taste left in my mouth from always giving up so easily, I heard a faint murmur cascading in my ears. It was my daughter, and she was telling me something-- an old message she had once delivered.
“You must live, Daddy. You must live for Momma, you must live for me, and most importantly, you must live for yourself. I understand your reasons for being here, but you are still not living.”
Through my sobbing at seeing her beautiful face again I said, “But, baby, how am I supposed to live? I couldn’t do it alone; I needed help. I poisoned myself with alcohol and grief because I didn’t know how to deal with things on my own.”
“Daddy, you did right. That was just the start of getting better, but these drugs they’re feeding you now are as bad as the alcohol you enjoyed so much. Those drugs, coursing through your system and numbing your entire body, are blocking your ability to feel. They are filling your mind, rendering it useless and incapable of even holding a thought.”
“What am I supposed to do then?” I say as I wipe my eyes dry, “How do I get better?”
“That’s why I am here; your angel is gonna take care of you, and you won’t need their pills or shots anymore.” She sighed and asked, “Are you ready?”
I hadn’t had time to answer or even attempt a sound. She had wrapped her arms around my neck and held me close. She had squeezed as hard as her tiny arms would allow, and I had felt her warmth radiating from her face. Her innocence, her light, had been passed to me through her gentle embrace.
She had whispered, “This is to force back your tears and bring your smile back to your face.”
That’s what she had always told me when I was feeling sad, and, without fail, I would immediately smile and feel better.
Her very essence had been moving into my body and causing widespread panic with the poisons as they backed up, looking to escape contact with her perfect light. They had poured out through every orifice, draining onto the floor and quickly evaporating from sight. I had been able to sense my strength returning, and I had known my body was being healed. I hadn’t felt that good in a long time.
As the remaining toxins evacuated my system, I had looked at my little girl, my beautiful daughter, her Daddy’s Angel, and the dam had broken. Tears had over flown and rushed to my chin. I’d seen her smile as she had begun to speak.
“Daddy, you must live! You must live for Momma, you must live for me, and, most importantly, you must live for yourself! Now hear me well, Daddy. I don’t have the time to say this again. Your body has been restored, your mind is clear, and you are able to trust yourself again. There’s a secret to the mark, and you…”
“Baby, what mark? I don’t know what you’re talking about. What secret?”
“There is no time for questions! Don’t interrupt, and just listen. My time is short. This will all make sense later. You must uncover the secret of the mark to clear your soul. I know you are confused, and your memories have been blocked, so the answers you need are hidden from your understanding, but you will understand. One day you will see everything crystal clear. The mystery will be solved, and all will be revealed in due time. I love you and will always be my daddy’s angel, but I have done everything I’m allowed to do at this point. My time grows near as I’ve used the last bit of my light to return to you and provide guidance. My light is about to dim, and only time will know if it will ever be seen again. Remember… discover the secret of the mark!
You must live, Daddy! Live for Momma, live for me, but most importantly, you must live for yourself! Find the meaning behind the mark!”
***
Those words rang out through the night as I am roused from my memories, and as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, the words still echoed in my ears. I felt like I was in an epic battle between good and evil with my soul as the grand prize, but I wasn’t altogether sure what role I actually played in it. Was I just some pawn being pulled and pushed and used as bait in some mystical game of chess where the pieces didn’t matter and there could only be one winner? The more I thought about it, the more the answer became blotted out by doubt and confusion. This cycle had to end!
My head felt like a ton of bricks had been dropped on it, and I could barely keep my eyes open. If only sleep didn’t also bring the dreams. If I could rest peacefully for even one night, my mind would be so much clearer and my thoughts focused. But, sleep… what was sleep? I had forgotten what it meant lately. Other than little cat naps that lasted a few minutes, my eyes never closed for fear that she might enter my dreams. I so desperately needed sleep! I was losing my concept of living because of the extreme fatigue. I had become a ghost trapped by my own delusions and afraid to face the world.
I remembered how this house had become a circus side show with objects flying through the air and slamming into the walls before crashing to the floor. The doors and windows had come to life, opening and closing by themselves. How the book, which I had hoped would help give me answers, had just ignited in my hands. All I had been able to read was a binding spell, and how it was impossible to break the connection once it was made. Willow hadn’t wanted me finding anything out, but why? There was nothing in those dusty old antiques that could have shed light on my situation. Or was there, and I just hadn’t looked thoroughly enough? Maybe I should pick my research back up and see where it might lead.
As I realized what direction I needed to head, I heard again those familiar words, carried in by the wind.
“Remember, Daddy, discover the secret of the mark! You must live, Daddy! Live for Momma, live for me, and, most importantly, you must live for yourself! Find the secret to the mark and free your soul!”
As the last of her words resonated, my head drooped and my eyes closed… lost in incontestable repose.
Chapter Two
Town History
I awoke to the sweet sounds of birds chirping and the sun’s bright rays blasting through the bedroom window. I was different. Somehow, I had a brand-new outlook and knew exactly what I needed to do. My purpose was transparent. I had to find out anything and everything I could about this town and the peopl
e in it. Maybe in doing so, I would happen along some useful information on how to release myself from this mark.
I also realized that that meant I would have to kiss the librarian’s ass, so that she would allow me access to the sections of books that were deemed off limits to my kind-- the “big city busy bodies” as she had once called me. But how could I turn her to my cause and win her over? I knew nothing of her past, so why would she be willing to help me? I had to try. All she could do would be to tell me “no” or kick me out of her mausoleum. So, after breakfast, my first order of business would be to sweet talk the old bitch and charm her out of the faded denim skirt she always wore.
I had been here several months now, nearly an entire year, but these people still acted like I was an outsider. Only one had spoken more than a few words since I arrived, but his paranoia had gotten the best of him after only a couple conversations, and he had become just as rude as the rest of them. Mr. Harte had warned me about the librarian, saying that she was particular about her books. Maybe he’d talk to me about that. I didn’t know; he had been none too friendly during my last stop, and I had almost thought that he wanted to fight. That would’ve been a sight for sure. I could just imagine it: The fat little bastard trying to whip up on me… he couldn’t have breathed enough for one punch let alone chase me down the aisles. That thought made me laugh, but I had to clear it from my head before entering his store.
I stole a quick look through the glass out front before twisting the handle on the door. Of course, he was nowhere to be seen. That squeaky old door announced my entrance, and the bell rang out like a tornado siren. Immediately I heard him.
“What can I do ya for today?”
Thinking back to his attitude the last time I had stood in front of him, timidly I said, “Mr. Harte, how are you today?”
Instantly the cheer left his voice, and the unwelcoming tone resumed, “Oh… it’s you! Back for more silly asinine questions, are ya?”
