Story Fragment: Cop Story
Aug. 10th, 2004 05:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
blahflowersWell, I know no-one reads this so that's okay, I only post it here because I was very pleased with myself when I wrote it a few weeks ago. It doesn't have a title yet but is supposed to start off like a regular English detective novel before verging off into the weird. This following bit is from aforementioned 'weird' period. Our hero is DI Peter Malgrave (God I hope I've got the ranks right), DS Charlotte 'Jerry' Maguire his long-suffering Lewis and everyone else is of no real importance or is explained.
Peter parked the car and swiped himself in through the side door. He climbed up the old stairs to the CID offices. He walked through the open plan of the outer office towards his own room in the far corner.
“Excuse me?” There were a couple of people about. And they were all looking at him. DS Murdoch, DS Finburgh and DS Arnell, all men he’d known for years. They were all looking at him like they’d never seen him before in their lives. “This is a restricted area, members of the public aren’t allowed in here.” DS Finburgh was saying to him.
“Very good Detective Sergeant, you almost sounded like the voice of authority.” Peter wanted to respond but the words seemed to stick in his throat.
“What is going on?” Jerry was standing in the doorway to his office. She was wearing a suit, which surprised Peter even more. He was aware that it was certainly possible for Jerry to wear a suit, it was just that as long as he’d known her she seemed to alternate through various pairs of jeans on a near permanent basis.
“That’s what I’d like to know DS Maguire.” He wanted to say. Then he saw the sign on the door to his office. Detective Inspector C. Maguire. She looked at him in exactly the way the others did. All policemen developed the knack of staring at someone in a way that suggested that everything they’d done wrong in their life was known to the police. Peter was known for a way with aggressive silences and glaring that was sometimes close to police brutality. He’d never really thought however that Jerry had got the knack yet. Until now.
“Finburgh, you seem to be getting on the best with our guest, perhaps you could take him downstairs and get this sorted out.”
“What the hell do you think you’re playing at?” DI Maguire turned around and went back into her office and Peter realised he’d only shouted the words in his mind. There was a large mirror on the wall behind the door. Peter saw his reflection, crumpled suit, he hadn’t shaved this morning and looked to be not that much better than he felt. DS Finburgh stood in front of him. Educated at the local grammar school he had told Peter that he was a keen rugby player although Peter didn’t believe that he needed anyone else to make a team. He reached inside his pocket for where his warrant card and his swipe card were. His hand grasped only air. Gently but firmly Finburgh guided him out of the room. There didn’t seem to be any point in protesting. Right now he wasn’t sure he could even prove to himself that he was a policeman.
His vision swam at the top of the stairwell. The steps seemed to tumble away into the darkness, into a dark pit. His hand grasped the rail and he started carefully feeling his way down the steps.
“Sir right all you are” He ignored Finburgh and grasped desperately onto the rail with his other hand. He felt light-headed, there didn’t seem to be enough oxygen in the air around him. Finburgh was reaching out to steady him but he was too slow and too far away along the tunnel that had opened up between them. Peter twisted and his hands came away from the railing, it wasn’t that he lost his grip but that his hands slid through it. He was falling down the stairs, as he fell he could see his fingers dissolving into the air, glittering like stardust before vanishing. He left a trail behind him and briefly saw Finburgh still reaching out to him as he fell, then he hit the landing and his body exploded like talcum. And it all felt so familiar…
Where he was was all white. Though he had no eyes to see, nor any mind or personality to process, he knew it was white. All was eternal and unchanging and he had been there forever and was a part of it and it was him. Nothing mattered because nothing ever had mattered. There was nothing he did not know and nothing important enough to remember. He was inside serene love.
Change came. A dark hole opened beneath him though there was no direction in this place. It was immeasurably wide, stretching from one side of the infinite creation to the other. It was a circle, as black as he knew everything else to be white. An echo of what once had been curiosity made him move closer to investigate. But then he crossed it’s event horizon and couldn’t pull away, and dove straight into it.
Cold. Light. Feeling. Pain. Here the weight of the world was heavy upon him. Every moment was agony and every movement a new experience in pain. It was a grey sepulchral place, all straight lines and cruel geometry. Fell beasts dropped from the sky screaming at him. Monsters of metal howled as they passed. Around him and his compatriots, suffering as he did, ghouls of vivified flesh shuffled, trying to knock them from their course. They were birthed into the world.
Purpose maintained them and they forged forward. Time flayed surface molecules from them, decaying their being, they had no time to lose. Conditions were fierce as they struggled against being swept away in the stream of time. They made their way though every sight blinded them with it’s brightness and every sound deafened them. He saw their quarry ahead and a tremor of excitement and purpose run through them to see their prey close at hand. They surged forward and although existence seemed to redouble it’s efforts to sand them down to nothing they were sustained by joy.
They skipped round the rotting meat zombies that blocked their path oblivious and as they got close enough to touch their target they reached into their borrowed clothes and brought out their steel.
Something in the sound must have rung through the cacophony of the world for she heard them speak and her head turned on it’s rotting tendons and she gaped at them. They could see the damage time had done to her, ravaging deep canyons and meteor impacts into the flesh stretched tightly over her skull. Surprise contorted her features until he thought they would rip and snap, alarm flared in the dull bulbs that sat in her eye sockets, a monstrous unearthly keening issued from the dark pit of her mouth.
It died when he plunged his steel into her. She hung on it before him, time could feel her resistance fail and she was already decaying before them, her skin turning brown, her hair falling from her head, the bones turning to dust. The other thrust their steel into her stomach and her neck, her chest and her sex. She was butchered.
Finally she slid off of his steel and collapsed to the ground, little more than a puddle of flesh, bleeding mud everywhere. The other parcels of meat began to register what happened as the odour of her filled the air and her reek attracted flies. Those around them howled like banshees but they could not hold them now. They skipped away and ran, then jumped free.
Now if I could just keep this momentum up I'd soon be finished...
Peter parked the car and swiped himself in through the side door. He climbed up the old stairs to the CID offices. He walked through the open plan of the outer office towards his own room in the far corner.
“Excuse me?” There were a couple of people about. And they were all looking at him. DS Murdoch, DS Finburgh and DS Arnell, all men he’d known for years. They were all looking at him like they’d never seen him before in their lives. “This is a restricted area, members of the public aren’t allowed in here.” DS Finburgh was saying to him.
“Very good Detective Sergeant, you almost sounded like the voice of authority.” Peter wanted to respond but the words seemed to stick in his throat.
“What is going on?” Jerry was standing in the doorway to his office. She was wearing a suit, which surprised Peter even more. He was aware that it was certainly possible for Jerry to wear a suit, it was just that as long as he’d known her she seemed to alternate through various pairs of jeans on a near permanent basis.
“That’s what I’d like to know DS Maguire.” He wanted to say. Then he saw the sign on the door to his office. Detective Inspector C. Maguire. She looked at him in exactly the way the others did. All policemen developed the knack of staring at someone in a way that suggested that everything they’d done wrong in their life was known to the police. Peter was known for a way with aggressive silences and glaring that was sometimes close to police brutality. He’d never really thought however that Jerry had got the knack yet. Until now.
“Finburgh, you seem to be getting on the best with our guest, perhaps you could take him downstairs and get this sorted out.”
“What the hell do you think you’re playing at?” DI Maguire turned around and went back into her office and Peter realised he’d only shouted the words in his mind. There was a large mirror on the wall behind the door. Peter saw his reflection, crumpled suit, he hadn’t shaved this morning and looked to be not that much better than he felt. DS Finburgh stood in front of him. Educated at the local grammar school he had told Peter that he was a keen rugby player although Peter didn’t believe that he needed anyone else to make a team. He reached inside his pocket for where his warrant card and his swipe card were. His hand grasped only air. Gently but firmly Finburgh guided him out of the room. There didn’t seem to be any point in protesting. Right now he wasn’t sure he could even prove to himself that he was a policeman.
His vision swam at the top of the stairwell. The steps seemed to tumble away into the darkness, into a dark pit. His hand grasped the rail and he started carefully feeling his way down the steps.
“Sir right all you are” He ignored Finburgh and grasped desperately onto the rail with his other hand. He felt light-headed, there didn’t seem to be enough oxygen in the air around him. Finburgh was reaching out to steady him but he was too slow and too far away along the tunnel that had opened up between them. Peter twisted and his hands came away from the railing, it wasn’t that he lost his grip but that his hands slid through it. He was falling down the stairs, as he fell he could see his fingers dissolving into the air, glittering like stardust before vanishing. He left a trail behind him and briefly saw Finburgh still reaching out to him as he fell, then he hit the landing and his body exploded like talcum. And it all felt so familiar…
Where he was was all white. Though he had no eyes to see, nor any mind or personality to process, he knew it was white. All was eternal and unchanging and he had been there forever and was a part of it and it was him. Nothing mattered because nothing ever had mattered. There was nothing he did not know and nothing important enough to remember. He was inside serene love.
Change came. A dark hole opened beneath him though there was no direction in this place. It was immeasurably wide, stretching from one side of the infinite creation to the other. It was a circle, as black as he knew everything else to be white. An echo of what once had been curiosity made him move closer to investigate. But then he crossed it’s event horizon and couldn’t pull away, and dove straight into it.
Cold. Light. Feeling. Pain. Here the weight of the world was heavy upon him. Every moment was agony and every movement a new experience in pain. It was a grey sepulchral place, all straight lines and cruel geometry. Fell beasts dropped from the sky screaming at him. Monsters of metal howled as they passed. Around him and his compatriots, suffering as he did, ghouls of vivified flesh shuffled, trying to knock them from their course. They were birthed into the world.
Purpose maintained them and they forged forward. Time flayed surface molecules from them, decaying their being, they had no time to lose. Conditions were fierce as they struggled against being swept away in the stream of time. They made their way though every sight blinded them with it’s brightness and every sound deafened them. He saw their quarry ahead and a tremor of excitement and purpose run through them to see their prey close at hand. They surged forward and although existence seemed to redouble it’s efforts to sand them down to nothing they were sustained by joy.
They skipped round the rotting meat zombies that blocked their path oblivious and as they got close enough to touch their target they reached into their borrowed clothes and brought out their steel.
Something in the sound must have rung through the cacophony of the world for she heard them speak and her head turned on it’s rotting tendons and she gaped at them. They could see the damage time had done to her, ravaging deep canyons and meteor impacts into the flesh stretched tightly over her skull. Surprise contorted her features until he thought they would rip and snap, alarm flared in the dull bulbs that sat in her eye sockets, a monstrous unearthly keening issued from the dark pit of her mouth.
It died when he plunged his steel into her. She hung on it before him, time could feel her resistance fail and she was already decaying before them, her skin turning brown, her hair falling from her head, the bones turning to dust. The other thrust their steel into her stomach and her neck, her chest and her sex. She was butchered.
Finally she slid off of his steel and collapsed to the ground, little more than a puddle of flesh, bleeding mud everywhere. The other parcels of meat began to register what happened as the odour of her filled the air and her reek attracted flies. Those around them howled like banshees but they could not hold them now. They skipped away and ran, then jumped free.
Now if I could just keep this momentum up I'd soon be finished...
