The Immortalization of Bad Deeds

Deafening sirens, sharp pangs of pain, and the heavy scent of blood; The first flashes of life as he awoke. The man found himself on the floor of an unfamiliar chamber, unsure of how he had arrived. All he knew for certain was his name; Elijah. He attempted to rise slowly from the ground, and found no strength in his limbs causing him to tumble back onto his bottom. He remained there a moment longer, content with his body’s betrayal. Something within the room demanded his attention however. It tugged at him so deeply that he was left no choice, but to rise in its pursuit.

It stood there triumphant in its solitary casing. White stone marble rose from the floor in a single column to support the rectangular glass shell in which it was encased. It was tar colored, and yet within the glass it shone like a black diamond. The stitching on the cover was a ghostly white, and what it read greedy eyes could not yet make out. The owner of those greedy eyes crept closer, and closer to what was to be his prize. He was enthralled by the item's grandiose status as the centerpiece of the room. The circular chamber held many fine items: piles of golden coins littered the edges, tomes far more exquisite in design than the one he sought sat comfortably on finely carved wooden bookshelves, tapestries crafted from brilliant fabrics were stacked neatly along the floor. None of these even once captured his attention. They had been near unnoticeable in the chamber until they existed for the sole purpose of accentuating his would be target. He had been undeniably drawn to the only item that was explicitly forbidden.

He trudged onward, pale bare feet kicking a precious golden coin or two with every step. They shot across the room landing with a soft klink as they collided with their brethren in the piles. The sound echoed off the chamber walls revealing how unusually hollow the room actually was. Each step kicked up more coins and soon the room was ringing with the sound. Each coin mimicking the screeching siren of memory. Weary limbs darted upward to shield his ears from the near constant ringing, which only seemed to grow louder as he approached his target. This only caused him to move quicker, though fatigue kept him just above a snail’s pace. The exhaustion that plagued him was powerful and unrelenting, and yet he pressed forward.

Eventually he stood before the so desired relic and the ringing ceased. Bone thin fingers outstretched to gently caress the glass casing. To his surprise it had not been tightly held in place, so loose that even one as tired as he could push the structure over. Charcoal eyes glazed over at the thought and only found focus when they settled on the lettering that titled the little black book. “The Immortalization of Bad Deeds.” A voice said aloud. The title had been strange, and the voice that read it even stranger. Whose voice had it been? Surely his own, as there was no other living soul in the room, then why did it sound so foreign, so distant? This moment of introspection was interrupted by the near involuntary act of his hands jerking the casing away allowing it to fall to the ground and shatter. He threw his arms out in defense fearing the jagged shards would find his face. An instinctual response he found strange, considering the glass had shattered away from his person. His thoughts drifted from the book in an attempt to recall why he would carry such a fear, but were once again consumed by the appeal of the now freed text.

Vigor returned to his arms as he finally clutched the book. Instinctively he brought the tome close to his chest, and held it tightly as one would a child, and wept. A steady stream of tears soaked his pale cheeks, threatening to soon wet the prized possession he clutched so dearly. No sooner than he enjoyed this unparalleled joy did he sense the looming threat of losing it. The ringing of sirens again filled his ears, and he knew that he was not alone in the chamber. There was another, one who wished to separate him and his prize.

“Run Elijah!” A voice other than his own roared in his mind.

Without much thought into a destination he took off in a dash, his legs finding strength in his resolve to hold onto the book. The grandness of the chamber faded into darkness as he darted through a corridor. He thought little of how he hadn’t noticed the passageway until now; his mind too occupied with escape. The sheer darkness of it made the path seem directionless. The only light came from the chamber behind though it seemed to stretch forward a great distance. He moved not knowing when and if he would encounter a corner or some impasse. From behind him the ringing of sirens continued, and he dared not look back to see whose feet clashed against the coins. Gradually the sound faded, but another more haunting sound took its place; the barking of dogs. It began as a singular snarl cutting through the soundless corridor, then another joined it, and another until it was a chorus of vicious intent. He knew there to be at least three hounds in pursuit. Despair washed over him as the thought of escape seemed more and more like a fool’s errand. The book he clutched so tightly became his only source of hope.

Wait! The book! He had been so fixated on acquiring the item that he had never even bothered to glance at its contents. Perhaps it would offer some insight into how he’d arrived at this mess, or perhaps some means of escaping it. He took pause, allowing the imminent threat of the hounds to momentarily escape his mind, and opened to the first page of the book.

The Immortalization of Bad Deeds

A Tale of Unfortunate Souls and Their Circumstance

Written By Thanatos

The author’s name rang with familiarity, though nothing came to mind. What little he knew of himself in this place he was certain that he was no great lover of books. No favorite authors sprang to mind, and yet this Thanatos he had at least heard of before. Perhaps he had read the author’s work in school, though he was now at least ten years a graduate. No time to dwell on the writer; the howls of the hounds had only gotten closer. Hurriedly he turned to the next page.

Chapter 1: Elijah

Another brief pause ensued despite the severity of the situation. First Thanatos, and now his own name? This was becoming strange, well stranger given that he first awoke here with no recollection and was now running from unseen forces. Forces he would have to ignore to return to his reading.

Elijah Mackintosh was as greedy, as he was treacherous. He had thus far lived a life in pursuit of solitary pleasure: Gambling, robbery, perjury, addiction. He indulged in whatever would fill the void within him for the moment. Those he loved he betrayed. Those who loved him, all discarded. The only exception, his brother Kenneth. Ten years the boy’s senior Elijah, thought the sibling his treasure. The secrets he kept, the lies he told, he swore were all for the boy’s safety. Partial truths told to sate the boy’s curiosity as the elder continued his lifestyle of filth. A lifestyle that was soon to ensnare both the brothers in turmoil.

“No, no!” he shouted at the book with defiance. This wasn't who he was; not that he could recall that much, but he refused to believe this to be the story of his life. This story had to be false, or some sick joke. Fury and disbelief spiraled within him. The rage almost made him brave enough to face down the hounds and his pursuer. Even an enraged man knew that to be foolish, so he closed the text and again took off down the pathway.

What little life returned to him with the acquisition of the book had now faded. The heavy fatigue that plagued him upon his arrival to this place had again overtaken him. How long had he been running? Where was he running to? The answer to these questions did not come in that ill-lit lonesome corridor. He paused in his fleeing, just now noticing the silence. No longer did he hear the three hounds in pursuit. A chill shot through his slender body as he thought to continue the story now that the danger had seemingly passed. His branchlike fingers reached for the cover and he again began to read.

Elijah, ever the criminal, had always had a plan, a scheme of sorts up his sleeve, but never any that would bring ruin to his brother. The devious mind hatched a plan for fortune this time around. He thought it the pinnacle of perfection. He thought himself so clever, and the admiration of his brother allowed him to believe it. Unfortunately for them both the elder was not as clever as he believed. The thing with schemes is they never go quite as planned.

Elijah, like any good grifter, had kept his friends close, and his targets closer. This afforded him one opportunity after another to pursue his wicked desires. The target this time had been a local drugstore. He feigned friendship with one of the owner’s older children, going so far as to even introduce him to Kenneth. That wasn’t so bad right? His brother was not a pawn in his scheme, he just happened to be useful, or so he told himself. The fruit of this false friendship bore in the form of insider information of the business: how much was earned monthly, where the money was kept, on what day the father deposited the money. It was from this information that his hatchling of a scheme developed into adolescence.

The book seemed purposely vague, but soon enough his own memory began to fill in the gaps. Faces, names, and locations quickly inhabited the once vacant spaces in his mind. He began to know the ending of this tale, before had reached it. A growing feeling of despair encapsulated him as he slowly began to piece together where he was and why. He knew now this corridor led nowhere, just as his life had. The only source of light and positivity came from behind him. He had to follow this light, and return to where the book had been kept. The journey back began.

It had been far easier to read the book on this return trek. Where before his dark shadow loomed over the text there was now the luminous glow of the path. The newfound lighting did little to lift his spirit however, as he knew where he and the book were headed. Despite that he pressed onward in both regards.

He would wait for the deposit day to make his fortune. It would be easy enough to ambush an old man, and relieve him of his wealth. He estimated a small yield of a couple thousand, but that would be enough to satisfy his greed for some time. Waiting and plotting, these two concepts consumed his days, until he was finally able to strike. The elderly storekeeper had prepared as he had done for years: booked his appointment at the bank, cleared out the store’s safe, allowed one of his children to man the storefront. After that he was on his way, and so was Elijah’s ill-fated plan. He would ambush the man near the store’s rear. It was quiet, secluded, and from it he knew several shortcuts to his own home; knowledge of the latter he gained from the many trips he and his brother had taken to the store.

Elijah, masked and cloaked, sprang himself with an armed weapon upon the man. Given the choice of his life or his profit the man quickly chose the former. A bag containing the money was transferred and the disguised villain took off in a dash. He darted through the alleyways to confuse any would be pursuers, the man’s sons if anyone. The haul had been heftier than predicted, prompting the crook to investigate its contents; an unplanned stop in this heist. To his surprise this had been a bigger score than anticipated. A quick count put the total at 20,000. The thief’s delight at this was immeasurable. That was until he heard the sirens.

The sirens! He at last understood why the sound had been so familiar and so constant. It had been one of the last things he heard before arriving here. He no longer heard it while marching forward towards the light, but he no longer needed to in order to understand.

From which direction they rang out he was uncertain. The sound blared from seemingly every direction. A now anxious Elijah hurriedly closed the bag and scrambled towards home. The brief time spent counting his new acquisition had delayed his journey longer than expected. He moved in a frenzy, frantically trying to avoid the gaze of anyone downtrodden enough to be perched in the maze of passageways behind the series of buildings. In his manic dash he managed to smash into one of these unfortunate souls, and they both tumbled to the ground. It was only when he arose, ranting and raving the entire time, did he realize who he had collided with; the precious younger brother.

Tears again swelled in the corner of his eyes, as the memory flooded his mind. He didn’t want to read anymore, didn’t wish to relive the sin he committed next. The weight of it grew heavy in his chest, and contemplated tossing the book into the infinite darkness trailing behind him. The act would bring no retribution, nor change anything that had transpired. He would continue his trek to the light, and he would finish the tale.

The two locked eyes, and no mask could hide the elder’s identity. The younger knew those eyes, and that voice all too well. Why had he been here at all? He should have been at home, or so the elder thought. Elijah shouted these thoughts to the other, and an explanation followed. The younger had heard news of the robbery and sought to comfort his friend, so he took to the route the brothers knew best. The two stood there in that alleyway, both examining the other. It didn’t take Kenneth long to piece together why his brother was here, and what had occurred. He pleaded with his brother to abandon this endeavor, and the two could return home without the money. The greedy Elijah of course refused, and attempted to continue his rush home with the money in hand. The clash of opposing moralities was interrupted by a storm of police officers. They barreled down the alleyway in clear pursuit of the drugstore assailant. They would be on him within seconds. He needed to act. It was from this desperation that his greatest sin was born.

Elijah looked up from the book and found himself nearing the treasured room where his journey began. The luminous glow shining from the rectangular archway was near blinding to one who had traversed the darkness for so long. The only solace he found in the light was it’s warmth. He had so long forsaken the light; for too long in his life, and for too long in this murky passageway. It was time for acceptance, of the light, and his own actions. He read on.

The action was more instinct than thought. His body moved on its own, and a moment later the gun was pointed at the younger’s head. There was no resistance as his elder brother took hold, and placed stolen goods into innocent hands. Venom soaked threats fired from his lips aimed at those with weapons drawn. Demands were made, obscenities exchanged between the parties. He would have his freedom, and the hostage would as well once he was far away from this place. If he could not have this then the boy would die. A nervous finger on the trigger made him almost believe his own words. The pursuers had not known, could not have known that this boy held hostage was more precious to him than anything he had pilfered that day. Twenty-thousand dollars would not, could not have been compared to the life of his brother, and yet there he stood with weapon primed to his own kin. The shame of it was almost enough to make the bastard soul repent. Almost…

The page turned and he found nothing awaiting him on its backside. Anxious fingers flipped pages forward and still found nothing. Frantically he repeated this action, until he was convinced of the authenticity of the pages’ blankness. The book had left him with no answer in regards to the ending, but he had some inkling to the tale’s conclusion. All he could do now was enter the light that stood before him. Some grand unknowable fate awaited him on the other side, and he did not know if he was yet ready to face it. He thought the book would give him strength as it had done at the beginning of his journey, but he felt nothing as he clutched it close to his chest. The longer he performed this before the doorway the greater his fear of what awaited him grew. In the end it was not bravery, nor curiosity that propelled him through the door. He had simply grown too weary to deny his destiny any longer.

The warmth radiating from the archway washed over him as he stepped inside, and for a moment he felt relief. This faded faster than he would have wished. Familiar scenery returned to view; the mountainous piles of coins, the exquisite books, and brilliant tapestries all now seemed more impressive without the book’s alluring presence seeping away their majesty. He now thought himself a bit foolish for coveting the book so feverishly with all these luxuries laid before him. He almost mustered a laugh, but the presence of another in the room invoked silence in him.

The other was a slender tower of a figure. Its height far greater than any mortal man Eijah had ever known. It stood lone and nebulous in the location where he had taken the book. It appeared to be facing away from him, as he could not make out a face, though he was unsure if this was due to the midnight colored garments the other was draped in. Elijah was more than certain the other knew of his presence; it was difficult to move silently through a room littered with golden coins. Each step would kick up a few, and to his surprise and delight no sirens rang from the piles as they had in the first leg of his journey. It was near halfway through the room that the creature finally chose to address his presence.

“Coming to return that which does not belong to you, or have you arrived to desperately cling onto something you can not have?” It asked. The figure’s voice seemed to not come from the direction of its body, but from everywhere at once. It somehow rang simultaneously full, and hollow.

“I’ve come for the ending of this tale, and to face it.” Elijah replied, though uncertainty plagued his voice.

“And you think yourself ready for such a task?”

“Ready or not, I must face it. I owe it to Kenny.” This he was certain of.

Upon hearing this the creature at last shifted, and faced the man. There were no distinguishable features to be found on the dark creature, except for a ghostly white skull where its face should have been. This didn’t frighten Elijah. He in fact found the creature’s appearance comforting as the stark color contrast reminded him of the book’s cover. It was without a doubt the author of the tome. It moved forward as no creature he had ever seen move. It’s body spiralled around the skull, not quite walking, but not quite floating. Its form touched the ground at various points during the stride, but was completely independent of gravity at others. It approached Elijah with a patient speed, and was soon before him. Black matter stretched out from the figure into the form of a hand. The newly crafted limb signaled for the book’s return. Though hesitant to part from it, Elijah knew there was nothing else to be gained from the book. It was to be returned, and perhaps one wrong would be righted. With the book in hand the creature again turned from him. It moved again in that peculiar way, stopping at where the stone marble rose from the floor. The book laid back in its proper place, and the creature’s sight lingered on it a moment.

“Will you tell me how it ends? Is Kenny alright? I didn’t mean to…” Elijah questioned though he found himself unable to finish his thought.

“You are far beyond redemption, but at least you are remorseful.” The voice retorted instead of answering his question. It remained with its focus on the book, only breaking away once Elijah too made his way over to the solitary pillar where it rested.

“I need’ta know!” He shouted, before his voice fell back into a near whisper. “I have to know if I’m truly as terrible as the book claims I am. I wouldn’t have hurt Kenny. I know I couldn’t have.”

The creature gestured a makeshift hand to the book, and then to the man.

“I only write what is documented as the truth. That is your story, and it is your truth. Your final truth. A record of the events leading to your arrival here.”

“But how does it end?!” He pleaded. His own memories had told him of his truth, but neither they nor the book had told him the fate of his brother. The final memory he held was of cold steel pointed at his brother. He did not wish for those to be the last images of his beloved brother.

The creature at last drew his attention from the book, and to the desperate man. The white of its face struck a perfect balance with the dark shroud that composed the rest of its body. There was no show of emotion, or signal of how the creature perceived anything around it.

“You perished.”

‘Well that much I could gather. I’m not asking about that. I want to know if Kenny… If he survived.”

“If you wish to know, then you must finish your story. Do hurry, you are only one chapter among so many, and I am so very busy.”

“But it wasn’t finished! The pages were blank!”

“Were they? Then you were not yet ready to face those final pages. You may have told yourself that you could bear the weight of those memories, but something within you gave pause. Another one of those little lies you humans tell to yourselves. If you think your resolve greater now, then the book is open to you. When the tale is complete we shall depart.”

Depart? Where were they to go? Elijah chose not to give it much thought, as he was already dead. Whatever awaited was fate, not that he had believed in that stuff much in life. He found himself again approaching the book much in the same fashion as when he sought to pilfer it. The book’s shadowy keeper stood silent, watching the mortal with neutrality. Again the man’s fingers met page and his final reading began.

More demands, more yelling, until the opposition gave way to his terms. He was free to take the boy, and the money and flee the alleyway. His word pledged to the boy’s safety, and so began his retreat. One careful back step after another led the two gradually away from the scramble. The younger’s soft pleas and the elder’s firm denial followed each step; it was only when the two were out of earshot of the officers did these grow into a heated exchange. Soon their dispute raged more fiercely than that of the elder and the police force. A push ensued, a shove followed, and after the thundering of a misfired bullet exiting the chamber. The body of the younger fell to the ground, crimson liquid already pooling beneath him. The guilt stricken elder stood frozen; the sight of his precious brother maimed by his hand, too much for him. With the boy harmed the compact between the elder and the police force was broken. It would be only seconds before they were upon him, and he could do nothing. He desired to do nothing, to be arrested or struck down for his grave injustice.

“Run Elijah!” The younger screamed through pained breaths. He was not yet gone from this world, nor had he lost consciousness. The two locked eyes a moment before the elder bolted. It was not by his own will that his legs moved. Every step was taken by the strength of his brother’s love. A brother so kind, so caring that even when injured at the hands of his sibling did he wish solely for his safety. It was in those final moments that the elder truly realized what had been most precious. Unfortunately a brother’s love can not prevent death.

A hail of bullets rained down the alleyway, too many finding their mark in the man’s backside. There would be no escape no matter how much the younger wished for it. Elijah’s life would end there, but only one brother lay dead in that alleyway; the other forced to live with a brother’s absence and the weight of his crime.

The book came to a close at this statement. The reader felt this knowledge suffice, and his query was answered. He knew now that his brother lived, and that was enough. The looming shadow figure had gone, and so too did the fineries of the room; all gone to darkness. Soon even the book too had gone, and he was left alone. A solitary light shone in the distance, and he began his long journey towards it. He knew there he would find the creature, and this would all be over. However frightening that thought may have been it was vastly outweighed by the warmth of knowing his brother would live on. If bad deeds were to be immortalized then surely too were good deeds.