Rekrah’s Requiem

In dreams, I see myself not as myself, aboard a ship, seas raging beneath me. The Black Sea-appropriately named. A voyage somewhere new, a brand new horizon. Our passenger, employer, was in search of a new life. A new life, we held out hope of tasting. Though the voyage is long and harrowing, and darkness shadows over, the crew and the ship. Thomas Scythe was giving way to vomiting all yesterday and the day before. Not unexpectedly so, but still quite the stomach-churner, We left just a few days ago and already the journey has been decidedly choppy. That was as good a reason as any.

For me not to allow my curious nature to get the better of me. I was aware too of urges growing in me. Dismissing them at first, as being too many days on the open seas, they clawed at me internally, though not physically. Our passenger, our employer did not seem to take note or mind of the impact the journey had on us. Seemed intent on guiding our good ship towards its course, no matter what.

*

A drift to the Globe Theatre, perchance for romance?

"O she doth teach the torches to burn bright.

It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night

As a rich jewel in an Ethiope’s ear."

*

We were strictly forbidden from opening the crates,

or we would not get paid. though we knew not why, we daren't try, because there was a strange unease, an aura from them. A dread felt in the pit of even the crew members with the strongest of wills. I admit to falling prey to that aura, from looking too long at them.

A sharp pain surges through my head from one temple to the other. As my vision blurs a little, I slump against one of the crates, jolting the lid a little though I barely notice it as I hear what sounds like voices. Not the same voices I am familiar with from my crew.

“Yes,

feels

it’s a bad story.

impossibly

For my man was a fellow that nobody could have to do with,

intrinsically

a really damnable man;

ridiculous

and the person that drew the cheque is the very pink of the proprieties,

that

celebrated too,

so

and many(what makes it worse)

years

one of your fellows who do what they call good.”

What the hell is happening to me? Wait. I can see again and don't feel that sharp pain anymore.

fromschoolagetothebigfourfollowedbyazerothatidetestedtheideaofpoetry That may account for the pungent smell. the boxes contained soil, dirt or grass. boxes, crates that an unknowable heat emanates from. Some crew members claim they felt the crates breathe. Surely not? Surely it was just them settling once they were in place?

kept our sights on land we could not yet see

the payment on docking we were promised.

according to one of the crew, I'm not sure we did.

ever. dock.

or get paid.

it is fuzzy. we had to get used to the unbearable. stench. it was more than the sweet and life-giving scent of wet soil. an acrid, no not acrid. putrid, unworldly reek of devastation. that hung in the air, that clogged the atmosphere and our mouths, airways and lungs.

my mind was faltering.

my body was yielding, to the journey?

no.

To something...else.

Though it felt as if we started just a few days ago, I am sure the moon has shifted further.

Time feels unstuck.

*

Back at the Globe Theatre...

"But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?

It is the east, and Juliet is the sun."

*

"The stench was unbearable. That's the first thing we all had to get used to and to be honest, I'm not sure we did. Just kept our sights on land that we could not yet see and the payment on docking we were promised. Apparently, according to one of the crew, the boxes contained soil, dirt or grass. That may account for the pungent smell. We were strictly forbidden from opening the crates, or we would not get paid. That was as good a reason as any for me not to allow my curious nature to get the better of me. We left just a few days ago and already the journey has been decidedly choppy. As I peered over the ship into the sea, it had a red-gold hue. Beneath the raging waves, bodies seemed to be sinking. Not unexpectedly so, but still quite the stomach-churner for some of the less experienced crew members. Thomas Scythe was giving way to vomiting all yesterday and the day before. As our passenger, our employer watched. Did he know our fate?

I realise now why he looked at me so vacant, with the same vacant expression many said I wore like a badge. I was he and he was me."

"Wait... why was I... where am I?"

"You are in a special facility, Mr Rekrah… you were telling me about how you came to London, or how you think you got here."

A short, balding man with a dismissive expression across his face and a clipboard and paper was staring at me, waiting for me to respond to his question.

"What... oh crap, not a shrink! Honest Doc, I just lost a few days from the old short-term memory. I'm as fit as a fiddle mentally and physically"

While trying to move, I realise there is cuffs around my ankles and my wrists.

*

And at the Globe Theatre...

"With love’s light wings did I o’erperch these walls,

For stony limits cannot hold love out."

*

"Oh, don't worry, Mr Rekrah, we don't think you're insane. Quite the opposite..."

I did not like the way that response ended.

"Tell me, Mr Rekrah, is it okay if I call you that? Or can I call you Moht?"

I couldn't respond.

"We'll stick with Mr Rekrah for now. You say told me about the stench and the other crew members...a Thomas Scythe? Do you think he was a real person? Do you remember anything about him? We need to establish how real he was to you? Did he have blonde hair or maybe red? Was he young or old?"

"I... don't know. I only remember the stillness in the eyes of the employer. That is all. And then the feeling that I was the employer."

"You were the employer or are the employer?"

"You think I'm insane don't you?"

"Not insane at all. Confused, maybe? Thom and the employer. You are the employer, are you not? Thom. Thomas Johnathan Harker."

"What did you say?"

"I asked if you wanted some tea"

"oh...yes please. Rekrah likes tea, I remember now. It seems so long ago...wait, what was I thinking?"

"tea, sir?"

"Oh, yes, tea"

The "doctor" places some tea in front of me in a fine China cup and saucer. Sipping it pushes me back to the ship. The Demeter. The blood. The lust. In my black heart.

"Thom, sir, are you okay?"

"Sorry, yes" Shaking myself back to the room.

"You drifted, sir"

"Why do you keep calling me sir?"

"You are my employer are you not?"

“I am?... Yes, I am”

It all became clear in that moment.

“I must feast, dear boy. I have such sickening lust for something young and fresh”

“Certainly, sir"

"Renfield, bring Juliet. The Master wakes. He is hungry."

*

Thanks for reading!

Author's Notes: This is for Belle's awesome Re(lie)ability [an unofficial challenge], which you can learn more about by following the link below. This has been in my WIP folder in fragmented pieces for months. Seriously months. I then started stitching, and then Belle's challenge came along.

I feel in two minds about giving all the reference works, but I think I need to at least because of paying due respect and the obvious references to the unnamed foe. There are quotes from Romeo and Juliet, one from Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde by Robert Lois Stevenson, which anyone who knows me will know is one of my favourite stories/books.

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Oh, as a tester, I've published one poem as an Exclusive piece because I wanted to see if anyone would be interested. I will continue posting exclusive content if I get any paid subscribers, even if it's just one.