The Collector

Awoken by a rumble, my head tumbled from my shoulder, I caught my kinked neck in my hand. Mumbling conversation, topped with cackling laughter pulled me from the void. My head throbbed, playing to the rhythm of thunderous pistons that reverberated below. I peered through swollen lids, a beam of sunshine ambushed my gaze. A small window merged with my shoulder crept from behind the fading flash bang. Its frame contained muddy green streaks, a thickening forest ahead beckoned questions. An endless tail of black steel, cloaked in billowing smoke, chased me around a bend.

The shrill scream of an engine ripped away the drowsiness, my gaze snapped to the left, flinching for the source of the assault. Instead, bustling rows of seats overwhelmed my view. Not one familiar face brought comfort. I was surrounded by the weight of strangers, lively in conversation with one another. I glanced at my wrist, a digital face read.

“Monday 6.12.43 12:30pm”. My mouth had gone dry, the laughter muffled. 72 hours, I had lost 72 hours.

“Friday 6.9.43 5:30pm”

“Ms. Handson, Ms.Handson!”

The familiar strident voice echoed down the steril hall. A clutch of blond hair spilled down my shoulder as I glanced over the Monitor.

“Thank goodness I caught you!” Director Bishops assistant crashed into my office, the stack of papers heaved at arms length, nearly pulling her over. Her disheveled bob knocked back in place when she shook to meet my gaze. A smile placed on her lips as she stole my weekend “ First thing Monday morning”.

That's all I caught , I snatched the load from the small woman and quickly stepped through the parking garage. My 69 Cherry Mustang, purred as she crawled through the lot. She roared, tearing down the slick dirt of Kenny road, raging dust storms chased us, the silo, dead ahead.

A place that remained unbothered by the outside world. Its old doors stood steady on the ancient hinges. Rust played at its frayed edges and dabbled up the worn sides to a peaked roof. The 30ft slide laid in the weeds a few yards away. This silo had been abandoned long before my 20 years.

I replaced the key in my bosom and pried the weathered metal open. The tinkle of metal hooks and a few saws welcomed me into the otherwise silent space. Dust cast shadows on the wall, they danced in beams of light from cracked window panes above. The far right corner contained the only electric amenity. My industrial freezer box lurched open with a tug, revealing the most recent addition to my collection. I reached down, pushed the hair from his eyes, and cradled his nape to pull him closer. A cold blue stare found mine, I gazed into his glassy expression. I traced the horror etched into his features with my fingers. The icy satin caused my flesh to ripple into goosebumps, as if to remind me. I was in control here. In this space, in this moment. I am ALL.

I loaded myself into my car, the stack of paperwork thrown across the passenger seat budded a recurring thought. Blue eyes will only be fresh for a few more days. I want HIM, this time, the next objet d’art in my menagerie will be Bishop. Musing in the plan composed over the last year, I pulled onto Kenny Rd and headed back. The thought of eagerly pacifying myself with lookalikes coming to an end, made me giddy. I hadn't noticed until it was too close for comfort, the bumper of a white dodge peaked a cloud of dust as it came flying down Kenny, from the old silo. My heart stopped in my throat and realization sunk in its place. A cold sweat beaded on my brow, I floored the gas and glided down the dirt road.

I broke into the highway, sliding across an iced road. I drifted until my tire caught the edge of the asphalt. I burned and lurched opposite of home. The truck not far behind, I reached an exit and ripped from the highway, dragging my car through the underpass, I hit the interstate. I fled for hours bounding from interstate to exit, when I had found myself exhausted, I rolled into my driveway. Eat, sleep, pack, leave. In less than 24 hours I would be relaxing in my uncle's villa halfway around the world.

72 hours later

The last thing I remember is my bed, I had definitely left town, but not as planned. I looked away from the only evidence of the last 3 days, a set of hazel eyes found mine.

A young woman eyeing me cautiously, brushed chocolate strands from her cheek.

“Are you OK?”.....”You seem lost.” pried itself from her thin lips, leaving barely a whisper.

“I think so…yes?”, Her questioning had caught me off guard, I was lost but I had not planned on admitting it, I corrected myself

“ I do not know where my stop is, I seem to have lost my ticket stub” an embarrassed grin painted on my face, the feigned naivety seemed to amuse her. A single giggle erupted, jerking her small frame.

“It’s about the journey, not the destination” she cooed, a playful glimmer danced in her eyes.

Whatever hallmark card she had planned, was anything but inspirational, a grin cheshired across her face. Revealing broken jagged teeth, fresh,and pooling with blood. Her head snapped viciously to the right. Crimson dripping from her chin, down the side of her face, coating the light cashmere sweater. Her neck unnaturally contorted, rippling bone protruded from her skin.

Familiarity sunk in like a sip of warm tea in winter, as the southern bell contorted. Where had I seen this, my body forced my eyes forward, my mind raced with explanations. Short brown hair faded into a muscled neck, cut off by a simple blue button up took up my vision, and yet, almost missed my attention. An ice black stare penetrated the muscled neck, to enveloping me. His energy clung to my skin like ooze, hatred pouring from his sweat glands. My eyes settled on his bulging gray shirt, blacked, clinging to the crevices of his frame. He lurched forward, My gaze shot to meet him, reading his intention. The barrier of my seat prevented my escape, I wanted to run. His Jaw dropped, tense, veins protruded from his collar and snaked to his temple. Frozen in an eternal scream, I knew him.

I broke and glanced at the honey eyed cheshire, smiling pleasantly to her neighbor in a light giggle of conversation. I snapped back to the black eyed man, reading a paper, simple boredom on his brow. Looking past the black eyed man and his crowding patrons, appeared a door at either end of the car. I doubted I could take much more of these hallucinations in a crowded area, and I needed answers.

I shifted through the crowd, faces flashed in my vision. Danger overwhelmed me, blood hammered through my heart. My head throbbed in warning, taking in each sight, more ghastly, more familiar than the last. Smiles turned bloody, noses broken, eyes gouged, hallucination and memory collided. I blinked back the broken experience and pushed through the breathless crowd. Each step brought the door closer, made the crowd tighter, and stole breath from my chest. I squeezed my eyes shut and shoved, my hand collided into a handle, one push and I fell into the next car. I slammed the door shut, and spun around.

My heart threatened to stop, a single man stood opposite of me. A tight brown fade emerged from a muscled neck, framed in a light blue shirt. Glacier eyes ripped through mine. Life pulsed, emotions danced across his glare. Rage replaced horror etched into his brow.

“Welcome Sarah” The stale words drug in my ears, the same stare I had studied only days ago now studied me. Intently his gaze drifted down my body, as if taking in the person who had robbed him of everything.

“How do you know my name?” my tongue stuttered, the question felt unnatural in my mouth.

A sneer played on his lips, he took a large step in my direction. Overtaking my space the shadow of his rage engulfed me, frozen. Adrenaline surged, I pushed forward, colliding with his chest. He stumbled back, confidence crept up my spine.

“Where am I?” The question came out cold, calculated, he analyzed my face.

“The collector, collected” As if his answer needed no explanation, he fell silent. I looked into his cold sad gaze, a smile played on the edge of my lips. I was not happy, but ironically amused.

A light tap, tap, taping stirred my attention to the one window in the car, a mirror stood in its place. The slick silver showed long streaks of blonde, framed in a fade. The normally pristine mohawk looked like 80’s hair metal after the show. Black smeared below vibrant green eyes screamed exhaustion, a wrinkle forming between my brow only added stress. Sweat stains engulfed the crevices of my body, the last several days well displayed on my skin.

I blinked when a small mark caught my attention. A sore red bump no larger than a pinhead had swollen behind my ear. I grazed the blemish, my head surged, lightning shot up my skull, landing in my eyes. The little red bump felt like fire, my head beat like a drum while the pain receded back to normal. My body trembled with aftershocks, as I tried to process what could have caused it. I had never felt anything like it. A single tear had trickled down my chin, exhaustion covered me in a blanket of black as I slipped out of consciousness.

My eyes pried themselves open to reveal that I had been returned to the previous car, cat-like eyes peered down at me, a cascade of dark chocolate hair framed her round face. She pulled away as I slowly sat up, I rubbed my sore head, finding the small bump. Her voice was a muffle, unable to make out what she was asking me, I glanced at my wrist.

“Tuesday 6.13.43 6:30 pm”. Lit up the digital screen.

I drifted my gaze above the watch face and noticed the train, in all its decadence, was not normal. At least 100 years old, billowing smoke of burning coal stained the air. The floor, coated in tacky purple carpet, aged the delicate wood carvings that emerged from the floor. Forming stiff benches coated in red satin, I ran my fingers along the fresh stained carvings at my back. Her voice had stopped, she was just looking at me and the carvings, her eyes held a million questions. Disconnected, I couldn't respond, I only glanced to the corner.

Golden crown molding framed the walls and ceiling in regal waves, dwindling to a point, accentuated by a wooden crow. Who’s eyes shone of quartz, gold leafs brought flutter to the black wings. Its gaze was an omen, black beads of crystal, fixed in a cold lifeless stutter that paralyzed.

The windows blocked by black shades, the only light peered through a skylight, and a glow set from my open window. Each corner held a ladder, leading to a latch with a lever. An “Emergency Break” station stood, seal broken, brake pulled. Yet we tugged on, roaring engines lurching us down the tracks.

I glanced through my lashes at the honey eyed Cheshire. She sat, her dress pristine, pressed straight. Mahogany hair hugging her soft face, my mind flashed to her previous smile.The memory sent a shiver down my spine, not in disgust, but realization. The only thing, everything shared, was death.

I could feel her attention shift, her glare burned, I forced my mind straight. A shadow cooled my skin, weight displaced on the satin cushion next to me. I dared a glance, regret stole my confidence as I tilted my gaze. Her bloodshot pupils dilated, she fixed her trance. I didn’t just know this woman, I had loved this woman.

Shattered memories of the mirror that reflected who I had been pieced together. Young, idealistic and curious, a girl, always sitting next to her best friend, a woman not many considered human, Christine Dawn. I did though, in fact she was all I cared about. So when Christine came to me, asked me to collect her, to bring her to life, give the gift of eternal beauty. I couldn’t say no. In love, with care, I carved a smile, as grand and bright as she had in life. She deserved to glow, I painted the stars in her eyes. Her soul would always shine. For a week I worked, and one more I memorized. Every line, dimple and hair, caressed by my inquisitive gaze before I placed her in the tomb. Bottom center, my first love, I would always remember Christine. So why, hadn’t I?

The golden blur faded, her softened glare met mine.

“You asked me too” was all I could breathe.

Why did she look so hurt? If all I did was everything…. Everything she had asked.

“What about them?” Christine motioned to the stagnant room of people. I glanced to the woman at her side, pale blue eyes iced over mine. Sunken cheeks deepened in her glare. Crimson trickled down her arm, framed by sticky brown residue.

“What about her, you….. emptied her?” the look of horror petrified on the face of my beloved stung. The woman in question's past slowly unraveled.

Sedatives, and a collection IV were the only things placed on the surgical table that evening. A frail blond woman with steel eyes lay bare, shivering on a sterile table. A section of plastic strewn across her body, purple ace wrap held a needle steady. Blood dripped from her weakening frame, down a section of clear tube.

The memories brought brief relief, a breath of fresh air, I could not have in this place. I glanced back to Christine’s honey glare “she wasn’t for you”.

My words cold with anger,I returned her viscous gaze, stood, and slammed my hand into the back of my bench. Hoisted to my feet, head placed at the center of my spine, I glanced down through the minor characters in my play, and pushed them aside in domineering air. Three light steps, I was at the car door once again. This time, I pulled the door open and strode through.

The clatter of pistons behind, the thunder of a rushing river ahead, birds whispered secrets behind dense shrubs. The scene beckoned me to enter. Something seemed familiar, warm, hopeful. I stood at the edge of a ravine, overlooking a cottage. Water ran under a stone bridge that connected the path at my feet to the doorstep of the cottage. I took a step through the threshold, dew coated grass crushed beneath my feet. A sea soaked breeze cooled my damp ankles, I stepped into the chill. I walked down the path, the stone bridge shown over the horizon. The short walk felt like miles, the world grew larger, distorting around me as I wondered deeper.

The bridge approached me, monstrous boulders molded its banister. Half as tall as the delicately chiseled gargoyles, patient watching for trespassers, they smiled down, my small giddy steps slowly passed by. I was no trespasser, as I had seen it a million times, my child-like hands traced the rippled wall of stone. I stepped into the massive platform, winds brushed my hair, rushing water filled my ears, I neared the peak. Finally I could see her, mom.

My heart hammered, excitement turned my face pink, and bubbled laughter from my chest. My feet padded the ground until I crashed into her long skirt, I wrapped my arms around her legs, warm cloth enveloped my small frame.

“Oh dear!!?Are you ready for dinner? I made your favorite.” her voice blanketed my being, I let myself be guided to a small dining table.

The simple kitchen, decorated with warmth full of herbs, spices, pots and pans seemed made for giants. A fire burned below an old Dutch oven, broth simmering from under the lid. Plumes of steam and spicy aromas caressed my small face. A bowl of cooled stew sloshed as my mother placed it down, she pushed a spoon in my direction. I scooped up the utensil and poured the warm broth down my throat.

Something broke.

When I pulled the bowl from my mouth, my heart stopped. A man came into view, he stood across the room, back to me, his light blue wrinkled dress shirt untucked. A muscled neck protruded from his shirt collar, defined by his thickening dark brown hair. I glanced at my hands, grown, worn, sore, mine. When I looked at the man he was looking back.

“Hi. ” was all I could muster.

His face contorted, anger etched wrinkled torment on his face. He reached for me, I pulled, the world swung as the little wooden chair leaned backwards and crashed to the ground. My body tumbled, I choked to my feet, and reached for the door. I grabbed the handle, but it was no longer the wood of the cottage. A heavy metal lever rested below my hand. I shoved a train car door open.

Stumbling over the threshold of the car, I froze. Through each door I had stepped through, I had encountered something new and ignorant of the laws guiding time and space. I stood on a platform, not near the doorway but at the center of a void. Silence echoed in the space , my body frozen, I was only able to observe.

I recognize this place as the end of everything, but only in knowing, understanding is a homeless comfort.

A thousand voices exploded in my head.

“We know all. we see all. we, decide all. You have been taken. Would you like to know how?”

I was confused, terrified, but somehow I knew not to ask questions, I only gave answers.

“Yes”.

Mine was a mistake. The sun shone before me. The brilliant light blinded me, yet I knew to walk. I took several steps until the light receded, revealing my room. The small studio held only essentials. A twin sized mattress with a single Black throw blanket. A night stand holding a clock, next to a dresser, half empty. The oversized gun cabinet created a crevice for me to stand in. The kitchenette had a toaster oven, hot plate and a small counter. A mid-sized fridge stuck out awkwardly, casting shadows in the windowless space. The door creaked open, gaining my full attention. The shadow of a man covered light beaming through the cracked door. He stepped inside, his black hoodie hung loose on a thin frame. Bushy eyebrows and tousled hair stuck from under a black cap. He pulled the door shut and strode into my room. I watched as the man placed tiny cameras at each corner of the room I called home. He walked into my bathroom, Bile bubbled in my throat, my ignorance sickened me. How could I not notice?

Streaks of pink, white and black filled my vision, as if the world was flying on fast forward, it slammed to a stop. The sensation knocked the air from my lungs. Again I stood in my studio, the clock read

12.10.43 , 1:00am

I watched my blankets rise and fall with intensity. My vulnerable sleeping body caused my heart to race, I watched the past. I watched as the door creaked open, exactly as it had before. This time the figure removed his cap, he placed it on the nightstand. Tears stung my eyes, I wanted to scream, to warn myself. They plunged down my face as the man pulled a syringe from his pocket, bubbles floated to the top as he flicked the mysterious brown liquid. How gently he brushed my hair from my neck, how sweetly he caressed my ear, made me shiver with terror.

Pain seared behind my ear, my hand crashed into the small bump. I watched the rise and fall of the blanket grow more shallow by the second. Tears streamed down my cheeks, I gasped as he lifted my frame and carried me from the room.

Streaks of time and space replaced tears, shocking me from the trance, I was thrown into a warehouse, a plastic sterile surgical bubble operated in the center. A collection of colored liquids dropped from IV bags, the fluorescent lights hummed in my ears. A small pale figure lay on a wooden table in the center of the room. Tools and jars lined a side table, the man stood over the pale body, focused. I walked closer to the bubble, watching myself come into view. Laying on the table, a section of plastic pulled across me. I looked down at my remains, mid mummification. Blood pooled slightly at my nose. The jar behind my head contained a reddish glob.

My left side lay deflated, a crimson puddle spread and thickened under my ribs. Four large jars sat on the table, a heart,two lungs, a stomach and intestine packed each one. The clang of tools on metal pulled me back to reality, I watched the man lean over my cold face.

“You’ll get to keep your beautiful eyes, that way you can find me when my collector comes” he sounded excited.

I guess he was a fan. I had been killed by a copycat. I almost burst out laughing when the train of thought halted, time ripped past me once again. I stopped in a familiar nothingness, the voices boomed from within.

“You have seen, now you know, not all, but enough and you will pay”. Silence deadpanned in my mind. My body Careened backwards, stars flashed in the endless darkness.

Awoken by a rumble. My head tumbled from my shoulders. I caught my kinked neck in my hands. Cackling laughter and muffled voices sent realization through my body like a frightening breath. This was not the first time. I snapped my gaze to Christine. I know where I am. A smirk found its way to my eye.

“You might have collected me, good luck keeping me”.

“And what could that possibly mean” the sickly sweet curiosity of my honey eyed Cheshire stood as a stark reminder. The collector has long been watching