Flash fic for Stuck by lightning
"Ever had that thing where you're alone at night and all you can hear is the sound of your own breathing, and the whispering of all the bad things you've ever done or said.
When I was younger, I was into all kinds of things. Crime, drugs, showing off to girls. Hey, every teenager does it. Well one time it went a little to far - we broke into an old stately home, a museum of sorts. It was bad...real bad."
Int: "What happened? Who was with you?"
Sp1: "Me, Jonny Davis and an older boy called Terry Adams. I still don't know what happened to them. All I really remember is sitting on my own in inky blackness, sweating and shivering. I had never felt so alone, so scared and lost. I remember...I think I tried to call out to them. I was shouting, "Jonny, where are you man?" like it was a cop movie or something. I wish it was a movie."
<tape records a crash>
Int: "Calm down sir. Just continue with the story."
<several seconds of silence>
Sp1: "I can never calm down. My heart you see. My heart won't slow down anymore. There was something waiting there for us. Waiting in the dark. He whispered in my ear you see. Whispered to me of sunken cities and the end that is waiting for all things. And as I sat there in the dark I realised I would go mad if I ever saw the things He spoke of. I stood and I ran. I ran for hours, days, maybe even years. Then I came into the light. So much sand and wind, and a burning sun that blazed down light, but I was still cold. I will always be cold. HE came out of the desert. A man with no face. It made so much sense at the time yet now I ask, how can a man have no face, and yet still be watching you. I knew then that I could never be free of Him while the building stood. I stood and I screamed at him, every prayer I knew in my childhood. He sent his allies against me, dressed in the skin of my friends and I struck them down with righteous strength."
"I know now that they were not His allies, but my own. He has made of me His instrument, and played me for a fool. When the hundred years of night had passed, and I lay screaming my prayers at a sky devoid of God, when I was taken from that place to another prison of solitude and madness, even when I returned and burned down that house of insane suffering and hellish delusion, his faceless visage remained in my sight. And so I took my eyes, cut them out with a hot wire from wreckage of a car. But still. I can still hear Him. Whispering."