Terrible Circle

Here is a short story I have been working at for a little bit, sorry if it is a bit ruff.

He awoke, his face set in a silent scream. A scream his lungs could not support. All was darkness. He did not remember where he was from, nor why his body was full of pain. He did not know what his name was, but he was sure that he had one. Slowly the pain lessened and he was able to slowly close his mouth and uncurl his body. Finally the pain faded into a memory, which would be very difficult to forget, for at the moment it was the only memory he had.

He opened his eyes into the darkness. the darkness also remembered his pain, his silent scream. But it also remembered how he had come to this place. The shadows were whispering to each other, but they did not share with him. Slowly his ears heard more then just the shadows whispers, it heard the music thumping out of the club around the corner and he could hear the hooker in the next alley over, working. But he also heard the knife unsheathed three blocks away, heard as it slide through flesh. He heard the soup dumped into a boil eight blocks away at a soup kitchen. He heard the whole city all at one and yet he heard each sound, could place everything. While he listened, his eyes picked the shadows from themselves. He saw lightness and grey, he saw true black. He saw the stars seeking to shine through the fogs and clouds above.

After a while he realized that he was hungry. And very soon after this he realized he was also cold. For a moment he wondered whether to head towards the soup kitchen or in the other direction to where there was a fire around which several people had gathered to warm themselves. Something told him to go towards food first.

Slowly he stood, feeling his limbs. He pulled his cloak around his sore body. Something warned him to put up his hood. Not having any memories he felt his impulses were the best things to follow. And his mind warned caution.

He was able to make it to the street of the soup kitchen with out meeting a single soul. He hung in the shadows, waiting, watching, till his stomach took over and told him to forget fear. the food was horrible, but his body did not seem to mind.


From the shadows Mark watched her, not sure what it was that held his attention. He had yet to see her face, she was sitting with her back to him. He was sure that she was playing at being attached to the young man who was doting on her. She was playing but she did not have the power in the situation. The young man had a very strong power and Mark did not like the look in his eyes.

Mark found that he was spending too much time looking in her direction, despite his honest tries at appearing to not be interested. the last thing he needed was to gain the attention of a rich, dangerous boy.

He finished his drink and paid his tab. He grabbed his cloak and made for the door. He did not look at her table while he left, although it took every bit of his control not too. He listened through the pounding of the club music, searching a safe route home. His ears heard everything, but he concentrated on only that which was most important. After deciding on the best way, he quickly moved into the shadows. Staying a part of the black until he reached his apartment. Only then when he was safe, did he let his ears search out the girl. But through the whole city he could not hear her out. He found her young man with ease, he was still at the club. She did not seem to be with him.

Mark lay, arms folded, eyes closed. When this position did not afford any help, he tried sitting up on his bed. Still he could not sense her. Than as he sat, legs folded, arms out stretched, resting on his knees and eyes closed, he realized he could not find her in the city, because she was in his room.

Her eyes were green. But other that stating the color, it was difficult to describe it in any real way. They were brighter then neon lights, yet it was not electric color. Nor was it dark like a forest glade, but almost as mysterious. He wondered if this was the Gypsy color that his mother had told him about. At least he was sure it had been his mother, he could not remember.

She was inches away, so close that he could feel her breath. He was sure he knew her from somewhere. And there was an attraction that made him feel like he was too comfortable. But he couldn't remember fully.
"You really don't remember me do you?"


She had betrayed him. It was the only way they could have cornered him so easily. There were three of them, he knew his strength was greater than theirs. Caution, his body told him.
"Every time its the same, Mark" Her voice had a fell tone to it.
"So when you get bored you just kill me again?"
"No one can kill you, but I can make sure that you don't remember."
"Why?" Her eyes were green flame, boiling over with hatred, where once there had been love.
"I keep hoping you'll remember it would make the torture so much more fulfilling."
"Obviously its your fault I can't."


He woke, his face set in a silent scream, his lungs bursting, darkness pounding on his head and in his ears. When the pain finally dulled to a memory, it would stay with him. It was the only thing he could remember.