The Ballad of Mr. Nobody

Greg Duhan stumbled out of the bar at an hour of the night where nothing pleasant happens. As he waltzed his degenerate dance through the city streets, the night rain was so gentle it was almost a mist, the kind that wraps around your skin like a cold quilt, made as a monument to your sins.

A creation that reminds you to just go home, that nothing good happens here and now. If you were Mr. Duhan, then that nothing good is exactly what you were looking for. The corrupt detective’s brain was already contaminated with the sort of darkness that led him to the Polchuli Family’s inner workings, when you add enough whiskey to disinfect an inner city dive bar, you get a soul that no longer resembles something within a human being. Everything mixed together, Duhan’s past, Duhan’s mind, the criminal hole he dug himself into years ago, the poison that was supposed to drown the bad memories but only brought out the totality of the darkness within him. All of those ingredients created a true Demon, and a Demon cannot help but do wicked things.

Greg Duhan stumbled through empty streets, when he noticed they weren’t so empty. She had to have been under 25, she was alone, she was walking at the speed that implied that she knew this night wouldn’t end how she intended and she just wanted to collapse in her bed. Duhan’s drunken grimace turned into a smile, as he picked up the pace to trail the natural endgame to this terrible night.

“hEy YoU...wHer Ya GOIN?”

The young woman briefly looked behind her, and started to walk a bit faster. Duhan usually played this game of chase whenever he visited that bar, it wasn’t far from a hotel so most of his victims weren’t even from Evergreen City. Whenever he was called to investigate the aftermath the next morning, he had to contain his hysterics while within the yellow tape that stopped your average joe from witnessing the carnage.

“I jUst WAnt to TALK lil thing. Wher’ ya’ goin?”

The “lil thing” started to feel a deep sense of primal fear within her. Duhan’s predator mind subconsciously picked up on this. The rapid click-click of her boots was quite the aphrodisiac to him, as his fast-walk suddenly turned into a sprint.

The woman shrieked out briefly before Duhan’s hand covered her mouth and dragged her into the alleyway. He pinned her to the brick wall, and his smile grew. He assumed he was in the clear, that no one would help this girl, there was no police, no brave bystander, no knight in shining armor to wipe away the black mascara filled tears.

There was no knight in shining armor, but there was a mime in a suit.

“Next time just ask for her number Greggy boy.”

Duhan spun around at light speed.

“Mind your own business faggot…what the fuck are you wearing?”

“Well I thought this made me look cute. I guess it didn’t get your approval Greggy boy.”

“What the fuck did you just call me, bitch?”

“Why, didn’t you hear me, Greggy boy? I called you ‘Greggy boy’! Cause your nothing but a little boy, acting out because of some shit that lead you down this path of evil, not being able to handle your own inner thoughts. You know what’s funny? What truly is a knee-slapper? Everyone has a demonic presence within them. Literally every single human on this forsaken world, has a really messed up mind from time to time. The thing is Greggy boy...they contain it. They don’t let it take power over them. They leash their demons to the back of their minds and starve them, because that’s what they were supposed to do when their creation was at hand. You. You...my sweet little Greggy boy, you did not do that. So now I have to make an example of you.”

The mime was suddenly in front of Duhan, rather than walking from one end of the alley to the next, he just willed his way to where he wanted to go. His black lips unfurled into the smile of a thing that knows he will enjoy the next few moments. The mime rested his hands on Duhan’s trembling shoulders, and much like he willed his way across that alleyway, he simply willed Duhan’s arms from his shoulders. The little man screamed a scream that widened the mime’s smile. He then removed Duhan’s organs, and then he removed his favorite organ.

Duhan collapsed in a pool of his own blood and viscera. That wasn’t his end though. This particular demonic clown would make sure he would relive this exact moment on a loop for, give or take, a thousand years or so. A constant cycle of feeling every pull of that mime’s hand in his gut, tearing the cell’s in his body as he smiled his terrifying smile. This loop occurred within the mime, through a way that isn’t easily explained to lesser beings. It was only after the 3rd cycle that Greg Duhan realized what this was: it was Hell, and he deserved it.

The mime straightened his suit and tie, after all there was quite a mess in the alleyway now. He turned to leave, when he heard a whimper.

Turing, he saw the young woman sobbing and curled into a ball. She looked at him with horrified eyes, and said: “What are you?”

“Why, my dear, I am deeply sorry that I never introduced myself. Mr. Nobody is the name. It appears we need to get you home!”

The mime snapped his fingers, and Zoey Jung was out of that rainy midnight and back in her apartment. Her roommate, who just witnessed her friend teleport into the living room, looked quite distressed.

“What the fuck!?”

“...I think a fucking superhero just saved my life.”

Thank you for reading the next installment of “The Ballad of Mr. Nobody”! I apologize for the late posting, I usually try to make these on a tight schedule, but even random dudes who write stuff on the internet are not immune to the bullshit of life :)

Anyway, thanks again for supporting whatever stage of my writing career you want to call this. This story really is fun to write, and I’ve been trying to write it since I was in high school. Well, this is getting pretty long so rather than go into all my inspirations and past incarnations of this anti-hero, I’ll end this with I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it. Remember to follow boxheadbooks on Facebook, follow @boxheadbooks and @tytyscifi on Instagram, give www.boxheadbooks.com a visit and maybe buy some books, and always remember to #ReadOutsideTheBox.