(Sting-Fiction inspired by the character of "Martin" from the film "Brimstone & Treacle"--this is a kind of prequel.)
---PART THREE---
Indifferent to him, Martin looked down at his wrist again and discovered the blood was gone as if it had never been there. And no cut was present either. Again he looked up at the mirror where the word still remained, only the blood in which it had been written had already dried and was cracking.
Meanwhile, Lester had escaped up to the attic and gathered all of the others around him to tell of the strange blood that seeped from Martin's uncut wrist, and of the word on the mirror that meant "the final end". This made him, and the others, believe in Martin--except Albert. Even this strange happening could not convince Albert that Martin was their savior, for even in his twisted mind there were doubts. In a way, Martin would be their savior, but one who would eventually lead them to their own end. Undeniably, he was the servant of his Lord and doing his bidding and accepting the consequences. Though Martin had yet to accept any consequences for his actions, nor suffer, as he was obligated. In the past year, he had profited from the mishaps of others, not materially, but with the satisfaction that he was somehow responsible for those mishaps.
In the span of a few days, Sarah had kept away from that old house down the lane, but she could not help but worry about those poor people in the attic that were being neglected. Though she had put thoughts of Martin out of her mind, when she saw him enter through the cathedral front doors one late afternoon, she decided to go to the old house. Her hope was to help Albert through his emotional turmoil and bring him back with her to the reality of his faith in the church; and she wasted not a moment as she ran out of the doors where Martin had entered and down the lane.
The ugly housekeeper finally came to permit Sarah into the house, after she had been knocking on the door for nearly a quarter of an hour, and immediately began scolding her. But Sarah seemed not to hear as she pushed past the housekeeper, though stopped at the foot of the stairs and turned to look back at her with deep concern.
"Is Albert with the others," Sarah asked, "in the attic?"
"Albert? Oh yes, the pathetic one. I do not care to see any of those miscreants who inhabit my attic, but... I believe he is there... alone as usual. You want to see him alone?" The housekeeper asked with a hideous laugh.
Sarah only stepped back silently as the housekeeper took a step closer, but was more worried about Albert than herself as she assumed that he was lonely and hiding away motionless in a shadowy corner of the attic. She knew that his refusal to leave that place was related to his fear of death; and his feeling that it would come upon him if he were to ever leave his haven.
"I will not permit you to enter any further into this house without my escort you." The housekeeper said and followed Sarah as she ascended the first flight of stairs. But as she began climbing the small and winding attic stairs, Sarah became nervous. Though before Sarah could take another step, a sudden feeling of anger came over the housekeeper and the wicked woman swung an arm out to stop her from going up to the attic. And in doing that, she grabbed the loose knob just as it broke off. She fell continually backwards, letting out one small scream before there was a strange noise and her body lay limp on the last stair.
The housekeeper looked down as a surprised smile covered her twisted face, but then the realization struck her that Martin would soon return. She knew that he could not see this woman dead at the foot of the stairs, for he would surely leave the house forever. Thus, she started down the stairs to remove the evidence, but stopped suddenly as she saw the front door knob turn.
It was Martin who calmly opened the door and beheld the pathetic housekeeper standing mid-way up the foyer stairs and staring back at him in surprise. His face revealed no certain expression as his eyes looked down further to the bottom stair, where Sarah was lying with her eyes open and staring into darkness. His face remained empty of expression as he looked up from Sarah's body and walked over to the staircase. He said nothing at first as he stood looking up at his housekeeper with sadness and pity seeming to fill his eyes.
"She wanted to help Albert and the others," he said looking behind the housekeeper with wide insidious eyes. "You should have been kinder to them; I think they are now angry with you." His words broke off as the attic people surrounded the housekeeper. Their faces were twisted and wrathful as some of them held knives, while other molded their hands into fists. But the most wicked of them all, Lester, appeared at the bottom of the stairs near Martin.
Martin's face was further enhanced by a sneer, and a peculiar amusement shown in is eyes as he watched the housekeeper screamed as the blades began to cut her. But he shortly became bored with the scene and knelt down beside Sarah's still form, and after taking her up into his arms, he carried her into the parlor where he gently laid her down on the couch. He knelt down beside the couch, wiped off the small bit of blood which had escaped from the corner of her mouth, then shoved that hand inside one of his pockets.
With his free hand, Martin closed her eyes and stood, still gazing down at her; and in the same motion, his eyes shifted back to the foyer stairs. The murderous housekeeper's screams could still be heard, though fainter, as the life was literally being stripped from her flesh.
As Martin walked out into the entrance hall unconcerned, with her last ounce of strength, the housekeeper reached out to him.
"Martin stop them!" She screamed, then Lester raised an arm to them as his small, but commanding voice told her assailants to release her. But after they had backed away from her, he dropped his arm and one of them ran towards her. With arms outstretched, the miscreant pushed the bloodied and disfigured housekeeper backwards. She fell with a thud to the bottom stair, but unlike Sarah, she was still alive, enough to look up at Martin.
The housekeeper was not the only one staring at him. The others at the top of the stairs also gathered around silently to watch her struggle to reach out for him once more. But he ignored her and gazed up at them with a smile.
"Farewell," he said as suddenly they all began to jump up and down and cry out hysterically. This was when Martin took his leave, and did not look back as the door closed behind him.
Darkness had fallen since Martin had left the cathedral, but he walked down the long lane unhindered, since the other lights in the town dimly showed his way. He continued to walk quite a distance, nearly to the end of lane, when he heard the sound of braking glass and turned around to look back at the house.
To his amazement, fire blew out violently from every window as if hell itself had taken possession of the old house, before those inside could be redeemed for their sinful lives. And Martin realized that the varmints must have knocked over the candles and gone rapid as he heard their damned cries in the distant blaze. He stared wide and innocent as an illusion caused the fire also to burn in his eyes.
As the smoke consumed the attic, Albert sat in a far corner sobbing out of fear for his life, for the fire had risen and blocked both routes of escape. He had been the only one to remain as the others had secretly made their way down to murder the housekeeper. Sarah's death had been the opportunity for which they had been waiting a long time; but Albert had been too frightened and upset to participate, and now saw the death he feared nearing to take him.
"Help me!" Albert yelled as flames burst through the floor all around him. He began to cry louder. However, no one heard him, for it seemed that only Martin had escaped.
Though as Martin stood staring at the flames, he suddenly didn't feel safe. Slowly, he pulled out the hand that had wiped away the blood from Sarah's mouth. That blood had strangely increased and was dripping to the ground.
"The blood," he thought as he remembered the smeared mirror, "the means to an end." He looked up again as the clanging of the firemen's bell rang out, and he did not want to be seen. Thus, before they turned the far corner, he ran toward a tall brick building, and leapt up the stairs to the second story balcony where he felt secure. Though after only a moment, a sound from behind alerted him. He turned to see a woman cloaked in something resembling an old habit, but severely torn to shreds. Her back was to him, but as he stared, she turned her face toward him.
Martin's mouth opened in a silent gasp of horror and surprise at the sight of a woman, who appeared to be Sarah, except her eyes were sunken and outlined with dark shadows; her face was drawn back and white as a sheet. Her overall appearance was that of a ghost, haunted as she lifted one of her thin, bony, white hands and slowly reached out for him. But at that very moment, there was a crack of thunder, which drew his attention to the dark alluring sky as a streak of lightning fell and struck the ghastly image that stood before him.
The power of the force of nature threw him against the side of the building, dazing him for a moment. But when he looked over at where the apparition had been standing, expecting it to be gone, the bony and burning hand was still reaching out and nearly touched him before he cringed back. But the bricks were wet and caused him to slip and tumble helplessly backwards over the wrought iron railing.
On the ground face up, Martin opened his eyes. No one had seen him on the balcony, nor had anyone seen him fall. Strangely, he felt no pain and could not move a muscle. He knew that could mean only one thing, and he looked up towards the sky as a tear trickled down the side of his thin, and pale face. Closing his eyes, he whispered, "God... please permit me to die," as more tears watered his eyes and his cheeks. When all of a sudden, a tingling feeling seemed to spread through his body, and he pushed himself up into a sitting position. Where there had been feeling lost, for some reason feeling had returned.
He stood, with little effort, and faced the balcony. No one was there, and a huge, knowing smile slowly creased his face. Suddenly, he realized the woman he had seen had indeed been Sarah.
"An image from heaven," Martin said out loud to himself, "but it was hell that struck you down." In his realization, Martin felt that he was intended to fall to escape hell's burning and fatal touch.
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