The Writers' Circle

I awoke with the same rising vertigo I've had for several months now, my hands were unnaturally numb with the fuzz of static, I felt an overwhelming sense of displacement, a searing pain shot through my head, and my left ear popped and grew completely silent, "a blocked eustachian canal" I thought holding my nose and blowing with all my strength, to test the effect I clicked left fingers, still silent. 
I have never felt so drained, so unnaturally unreal, I reached for the bed lamp and flashed light into the room, I watched in fascination as a blanket of light moved at an incredibly slow speed reaching the corners first, then slowly crawling the walls as if pushing the darkness back, although with painful difficulty. 

I pressed my fingers into my eyes, feeling a reassuringly dull pain and watched the freckled spots of dancing colour take control. I reached for the foolscap paper on my bed stand and tried to remember the dream I had, it felt like I had slept for an eternity, but this had become my custom, ever since the dreams began, my psychiatrist reassured me it would help me the end, when they became unbearable I had no choice but to seek help. 
I would often wake choking on my own sick and crying, such cruel images! I have never been a religious man, but one particularly vivid dream I remember, I was eating the flesh of Christ, although I was in tears, I had an insatiable hunger, the more I ate the more voracious I became, until I was something... less than human. I was choking on matted hair and bone, I remember the sick delight I felt in grinding my blooded teeth together, and stripping the corpse with my hands. I shook my head trying to clear it of the memory, and wrote the words "White Light", White Light? I laughed, it's true, I had dreamt of a White Light. Perhaps the dreams were subsiding? 

I looked down at the pitiful crooked lettering I had written, my hands were still numb, I coughed and reached over to look at my alarm clock, turning its cheap plastic face towards me it flashed a dull green 00:00, lying silently in my bed staring at floral design on the wall opposite, I simply didn't care, I had been dismissed from my job, I had no where to go, I finally managed to muster the strength to rise up out of bed, as my feet touch the patterned red carpet, I realised they too were numb, Jesus! what's wrong with me? Walking slowly, crookedly over to the mirror and into the face of Marcos Valenti, I pulled at my cheeks, noticing the skin seems to have lost all its elasticity, and my eyes had sunken inwards with deep heavy set rings, once again I plugged my finger into my left ear only to be met with a distant whooshing sound. I hobbled over to bedroom door, stepped into the dark corridor and watched with fascination the same 'slow light' effect spread over the hall and kitchen, it must be morning soon I thought, but all the same I poured a glass of Jack Daniels.

Everything had started to go wrong since that 'assignment', I had been assigned to report on an archaeological finding in Padua, a 'great' scholar named Professor Carlos Frei had used advanced geometrics on the Cathedrals Orvieto, Parma, Florence and Siena, using the cathedrals dimensions, history and location along with a purported stellar alignment with the constellation Canes Venatica to devise the theory of a 'hidden cathedral' in what he called the 'Pentagonal Pentateuch', nobody paid his theory any attention, he was even ridiculed by his contemporaries, that is of course until several years later when he released the popular book 'The Rising of The Black Sun', it was filled with mysticism and the occult, it flared the public's imagination until finally a grant was paid by CoLat and a licence to commission a small scale archaeological dig was made, only Carlos knew its true location. 

I thought the day I had been waiting for had finally arrived, when the editor Pat Morgan of the Daily Cashel, called me into his office, and gave me the news that I would be handling the Black Sun Report exclusively, a chance to be noticed by the Big Guns and finally get out of this dump, there had been nothing but air these last few weeks, this could be my big scoop. I hurriedly took the next plain to Italy , when I arrived in Padua, I met Carlos Frei at the dig, he was deep in a trench, wearing an all khaki suit and shouting frantically in German at a young intern, he was red with rage and sunburnt from head to toe, apparently the dig wasn't going as quickly as planned, I heard rumours later he wanted it uncovered before the Autumnal Equinox, it was unlike any dig I had ever seen or heard about, there were several diggers roaring onto the site and removing what seem like tonnes of clay stone and regolith, there appeared to be a complete disregard for the preservation of anything they might uncover. 

To my surprise, when I finally caught Carlos' attention he was more than hostile with me, but being somewhat of a national interest there was not much he could do to keep me too far from the site, he would spit in his thick German accent "Dis ist meinen operation! Meinen!" and would push me back in a temporary camp-site that was cordoned off from the dig, I began to feel my 'Ace in Hole' slip away, I also began to see Carlos Frei as a bigot and a fraud just another Aleister Crowley with a complex, I sensed the workers felt the same way, as the rate of progress began to slow, Carlos become more violent, visibly pushing and throwing the hired locals in his frustration, after day 20 the site was down to over 60 feet, we would discuss the unlikelihood of a cathedral being unearthed so far down the idea seemed impossible, according to the 'Rising of The Black Sun' the Paduan locals had burned and buried the Cathedral in a mob-rally, through 'Fear of the Equinox' of in 1609, or what Frei also called 'ignorance', this too seemed impossible, to completely convert a valley into tableland, when it would be easier and logical to simply destroy it. 

As the sweltering days passed, workers began to disappear and there was a strange electricity on the site, Carlos began to relax too and even on one occasion invited me into the centre, he placed his hand on the ground "Here" he said thickly smiling, "it ist like a baby yar, you canst feel it breath, inside yar, yar?" I touched the ground, sure enough I felt uneasy, like my head was being pulled down through my stomach, but I did imagine, like Carlos said, the Earth pulsating, breathing, pulling me into a rhythmic dance. I glared up at the sun, which was a pinpoint of light in an endless vacuum of blue, it felt as if the sun, the sky and the whole Earth, was closing in around me, it was both suffocating and beautiful. 

I am a reporter, and it would be untruthful if I said this experience did not excite me, anything that excites me, is sure to excite the public, and with Carlos' seemingly renewed confidence, I was sure I was going to have my scoop after all. Just as the workers were leaving for the night, and the floodlights were being turned on around the dig site, I was approached a young boy named Diego Escardo who had been seen helping around the site, "Senor Valenti, please" he said tugging my backpack frantically, the bag unzipped spilling the contents on the ground; my notes, recorded tape interviews, maps, local newspapers all clattered against the bedrock "Apologise senor!" said the kid picking up the materials, "You are staying with Carlos Frei tonight, yes?" he handed me the materials and genuflected to show his humility, 
"That's right, he's invited me to stay at the Al Cason. "No, Senor, you can not! He will kill you! I swear it!" he grabbed my hand and there was something in his eyes that convinced me of his sincerity, I heard a click, I noticed he was holding my tape recorder "Das Reporter, Marco Valenti" there was an audible spit, it was Carlos Frei "He vill be the first sacrifice to zee Mother Earth, der Moirae vill his devour his bones, my children of Venatica vill vear his skin, der Black Sun will devour his soul!" this was followed by a conversation in German between several men. "How did you?...." I was stunned, "It is not your concern Senor! You must go!" I reached to grab the tape, what a story this would make! But the boy sprinted off kicking up dust, before long he was beyond the floodlights and into the night. He was right, I had to leave, even the strange 'electricity' around the site was affecting the way I think, and now I was convinced Carlos Frei was completely mad.

On the plane home I poured over the few notes I had managed to write, mainly they were the speculations of workers and notes from the local newspapers and geological data, Frei had given me very little to work with, I open the Giornalli Italiani to read their take on the story, when a metal object about the size of a place card, chimed against the floor, I remember the sound it made was beautiful, like a chorus of Angels, I picked it up and noticed it was gold and about as thin as sheet paper, but it was sturdy and wouldn't bend despite all my effort, in the centre was a picture of the Sun, above were celestial bodies, stars and planets, and below stood an Angel peering upwards toward the sun, with it's arms outstretched, on the back it was plain silver with no markings. "Escardo?" I thought, but why? I placed the Gold Card in my inside pocket, it was only when I was within the comforts of my own apartment I could pay it more attention, I became fascinated with the card, I selfishly tried to figure out its 'mystery'. I had tried several approaches, holding a flame to the underside and watching for any change, running it under cold and hot water, tracing the lines with my fingers, I would spend long nights drinking whisky and sleeping through the day, I rejected work completely and failed to write a report on the Paduan Excavation. I would ignore any calls or visits, it was after about a week that the dreams started, first they were reassuringly beautiful and always involving the card. 
Naked nymphs, Houri and Maenads would caress my body, singing in ancient tongues long forgotten, I began to lose the sensation in my limbs, which then to me was all part of the ecstasy. But the card always remained the same. 

Months passed by, I was now drinking 2 or 3 bottles a day and I became bloated in delirium, I could no longer distinguish between my waking state and sleep, the telephone would ring almost constantly but there was only ever static on the line, I would eat a meal only to find I hadn't touched it, sometimes walking to the dining area I would 'slip' up to my waste into the floorboards and feel my spine mesh with the wood, where I would be caught until sleep, when torture would free me. Indeed, it was the nightmares that were the worse, I had killed and re-killed everyone I have ever loved in the most sadistic ways, chained them to rotisseries and ate them with relish, I would awake to hear to my stomach groan with hunger, only to violently throw up with shame and disgust, and  to see the walls sag with blood around me. 

I finally decided to mail the Gold Card to Sam Mathers a friend of who's an expert in antiques and antiquity, I wrote a letter describing my condition, and that it must be destroyed or passed on within a week, and to contact me with any news concerning the mystery, the card still held a strong power over me. This was yesterday.

I finished the glass of Jack Daniels and sighed checking my body, it seems the effects still haven't worn off, I made my way to the dining area, where I sat and rolled a cigarette, which was difficult considering the lack of sensation, I finally managed to light the end after my constantly shaking hands had snuffed out the light, I exhaled in relief, but there was no smoke, it was just another 'trick' I was becoming used to, a piercing scream shot through my head and I double over in pain, the TV flashed onto static and the phone started to ring, there was a loud knocking at the door, the cacophony became unbearable to me, "SHUT UP!" I screamed "PLEASE!!!!", the pressure in my left ear popped in and out and ran course blood to the veins in my temples, and then silence. I looked up to hear the faint beep of my answering machine and the whurr of the motors as it turned to rewind and then clicked to a stop. 

I cautiously pressed "Play", and held my hand to my left ear, where a fine line of blood has now started to run, "You have 5 New Messages", "First Message received 5th of the 7th" droned the machine, 'that's today' I thought, "Hi Marco, it's Sam Mathers, I got your letter today, pretty interesting stuff, I can't say I've seen anything like this before, I'll run it through a few scans and get back to you, if you want to call me in my office my number is 08880 4058, I hope you're feeling better" click, click, he got my letter today? But that's impossible. 

"Next Message received 6th of the 7th" "Hi Marco, you won't believe it but this has a Tetrahedronal Matrix, we're all pretty excited down here at the labs, it also contains a high concentration of solid state Helium 3, I mean this is wild! Where did you find this? This Card could make us extremely rich, I mean I don't want to mention the possibilities over the phone, oh, and about the design, it belongs to the Sun God Sol Invictus, at least it is, but it's in reverse, you see the stars and planets you thought were celestial bodies, are actually marker points to the Gates and Rivers of Hell, pointing by design to the Avernus,Olympia, Lethe, Acheron, they match up perfectly, and belong at the bottom, not the top! I have to say this is most fascinating find of the century, YOU HAVE TO CALL ME!" click, click. "How long did I sleep?" I thought, "how long have I been out cold?"

"Next Message received 7th of the 8th" It can't be! I held the counter feeling faint. "Marcos it's Mathers, when the Cathedral was unveiled to be a Ziggurat today a lot of strange things started to happen with the Card, we all feel it's in some way connected, a lot of people are starting to get ill, we're leaving town before the Equinox, and what the hell is wrong with the sky?" click, click, 

"Next Message received 8th of the 8th.... cit.... M.... Tur.... Fable... Tr.... Alsi...... rebirth...... click, click, ......Venatica!.... Mur.... bla.... Pain...." 

"Next Message Received 29th of the 12th .........................................................", click click.

I sat motionless with my head in my hands, by now the dining room floor had sagged into a bowl shape, but the furniture remained station, the walls were groaning with inner tension, 'This is it" I thought, "this is the end", I pulled myself up, and stepped slowly towards windows to draw back the Venetian blinds and see the world for one last time, the soles of my feet were sticking heavily to ground tearing off a fresh layer of flesh with each step sending a wave of electric shocks jolting up my legs, I passed the calendar which I had nailed beneath picture of the Manhattan Building, and noticed someone had marked everyday of the year with a crude picture of the sun, finally I was here, I looked down to notice I had lost 7 toes en route and laughed, I held the cord in my hand and faced the blinds. Holding my breath I yanked, and was immediately hit by a brilliant white light. "White Light...." I whispered, the light so brilliant burned my retinas and I collapsed to the floor blind with a thousand needle shot to the brain, "Black Sun..." I muttered weeping... It was then felt the hands around me, pulling me down into the bowl, and deeper still, back to the womb of the Moirae.

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I submitted this originally to the March Write, I had no idea a simple idea was going to end up being so long, I'm sorry if I'm hogging the board, I realised it would be nice to have personel rating on this, as it's the first serious effort I've put into writing a short story. Thanks for any ratings or criticism in advance...

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