The Void part 1

Horus Mayfield born March 18, 1987. Today fell on his thirtieth birthday; he rolled out of bed with the determination of an agoraphobe whose house was burning down. Traditional affair he had in the morning, brushing his teeth, deodorant, hearing the overt sound of his krieug machine squirting drip after drip of his morning coffee. What wasn’t so traditional on the other 364.25 days of the year was the loads of messages on his facebook wall of former college classmates, parents, past ex-girlfriends, family members, coworkers, employers, and casual acquaintances at best, what facebook dubbed as ‘friends’.

Now that wasn’t to say Horus was friendless, socially awkward or aloof, he was just not that close with any of them to call them friends. He went through, not even checking the 80 plus posts on his wall but to clear the notification so his phone won’t have the constant reminder. He went to work down another floor to the first floor of the building of the studio. Giving a new meaning to the word ‘studio apartment’. He was a sound engineer in rather medium sized town, located not too far from his college town. He hadn’t had any real impressive clientele besides that one Cleaners whose owner somehow knew NBA ex-Basketball star Patrick Ewing. Other than the inspiration to the gigantic blue Mon-Star in Space Jam, He was not familiar with his work.

He usually spent the day mixing audio for radio ads or ads that begin in his local theater, or sometimes he is hired to record some snobby, rich kids perform death metal ‘music’. “Just random noises on a track ,” he’d joke to his colleague, Manager, and owner of Jolt Electronic Recording Studio: Jason Davino, “Might as well just listen to radio static for 45 minutes on the max volume!” Davino turned and gave Horus a chuckle, “They could just scream obscenities in the mic for a hundred hours if their parents’ checks keep cashing.” He remarked with glee as he puts away pay-stubs into a folder and into the wall safe. Davino was an older man, late 60’s, smelt of pot smoke, had a gut that hung out under his shirts. Horus a well built, slightly declining 30 year old who was on the lower average side of height, always standing down wind of Davino and his thick pot fumes. Yes, Horus partook while in college but he quit once he got his Audio Engineering degree and now the smell just brings him back to times of midterm stress and thirsty Thursday nights where the true display of thirsty women and men were on display where some would strike out and others would settle, and with it coming from such an older man just gave him the feeling of depression and pity for the old man.

He never of course could say this because he was his boss, landlord, and writer of his check. Granted what little it was after rent was taken out of it, it was an honest pay for an honest day’s work. “Hey do you mind if I cut out early today and have you finish the drum track for this kid? It’s my birthday and I’d kind of have a tinder date.” Davino laughs uproariously at this, causing his gut to smack on the desk table which sat under his safe in the wall and his computer. Not the wisest ideas of placements, but again this wasn’t Horas’s place to say. “You kids today are pathetic, what’s wrong with going to a concert and making on some honeys like in my day?” Horus, after sipping on his coffee and his tweaks the drums to sound less like head on collisions traffic wreck at a four-way stop and more quieter to hear the lead singer’s pig squealing noises like a pig, “Because the love isn’t as free as it was in your day, Mr Davino.” His boss was a hippie, but he had a capitalist, entrepreneurial mindset of a standard employee and proffered being called sir or Mr. Davino, Go figure. “Eh, and we trimmed the hedges less often too.” Davino said, pointing down to his gut, but his attention was far lower, “But eeh, I can’t keep you here on your birthday. You can clock out at 3.”

Horus’s face perked a bit up, the day seemed to have gotten a bit brighter, until the pots and pans banging 9th graders brought him back to a state of digust — —


Later that evening Horus was looking over the tender profile yet again; he had it memorized by this point. They both liked The Lego Movie, both play Hearthstone, and loved fried chicken. Her theme song was Witchy Woman by The Eagles, and they had zero friends in common on facebook. Her hair was a shoulder length red hair pulled back in a pony tail that hung from the left side of her body. She wore thick frame glasses, but not in the picture he was focusing on. The one was where she was vacationing in Palm Springs, leaning over and exposing herself in a bikini top. He looked at this photo as a means of motivation that got him dressed up in his winter coat. His medium length brown hair flattened down over his eye brows as he gets ready to head out the door. Phone, wallet, keys, and enough cologne that it could intoxicate a couple of flies and he was out the door. His winter coat clashing black against the bright white snow that shined even brighter under illuminating, yellow lights from the humming street lamps above his head. The thick crunch of snow under his shoes as he walks along the snow dusted bank between his home/work and his destination a local, Korean restaurant that got fabulous reviews on Yelp! She suggested it, said he’d need to try some Tteokbokki. He had no clue what it was, but he was excited to try anything to win over the affections and maybe gain closeness with someone who isn’t 30 years older than him, male, hippie, whose pot stink still didn’t cover his body odor, it just kind of blends. The near gagging of the reminder of the stench was caught off guard by a flickering street light above. It kept flickering on and off, on and off, constantly for a few seconds which caused him to look up at the sparkle of yellow, buzzing light and without forewarning the winter winds blew fierce against his face; covering it up with his hands for a few moments until it petered down.

When he opened his eyes after the frosty, thin vein blown past him things seemed dimmer. He marched on, his foot slowly sinking into the snow. It came up about 3 inches deep as he keep walking along the snow the buzzing also seemed to slowly drift off into silence. It seemed the halo of lights ahead went out. Power fuse or something, but as he walked, he noticed the bank seemed to come out flat, for a while. He never noticed the bank bottom to be this long when he walked on nightly visits in town to a local bar, but that’s when he suddenly felt the urge to look around. The light poles that were suddenly there vanished without a trace, and the trees the surrounded the bank seemed to be gone; realizing slowly that he was no longer in the bank, but still in snow. His eyes dart up to the sky above which seemed pitch black save for a tiny hole of white light that rained down from above, reflecting the white snow in it’s radiant glow. He could only assume this was the moon.

The deafening silence didn’t last long as he walked on to get a feel for direction, maybe he accidentally turned down a different path from the record store, he’d think as he walked around, the snow adding crunching to the walk. But in the back ground there was a certain hiss, it was dull and he knew as a sound engineer that it must have been far away, he moved toward the hiss because it must have meant civilization right? The shorter, green-eyed man moved through the snow until he came across a figure in the distance, it seemed void of color and shape from far away, but from the length he could make out it was actually two figures: one laying on the ground and one laying over it. He moved closer but it seemed it went on for 400 yards.

The closer he got, the air also seemed to get close and tight. He’d been walking for a while and was getting out of breath, but the hissing was getting louder, he stopped in place to catch his breath he yield out,”HEY! IS HE OKAY?!” The black figure turned around, he couldn’t make out a face but the hissing sound seemed to become more familiar, but not in the good way, this hissing sound brought to mind more annoyance then comfort,”LOOK DON’T BE WEIRD, I JUST WANNA KNOW IS HE ALRIGHT?!” Suddenly the figure in front seemed to sink into the snow, not making a sound besides that hissing, but once it completely becomes hidden is when Horas sees him.

The man had a bones showing from his rib cage as it seems like something was eating on him similar to that of a Thanksgiving Turkey, his eyes blood shoot to the point his dilated pupils looked like they were black dots swimming in red pools and the rib cage clashing red and white in the snow. The hissing only growing louder as 300 yards away the figure jumps up from deep within the snow, only to dive right back down, looking like what the frequency of a man who barely exercises running a marathon’s heart monitor would look like. It was diving and rising from the snow like a black dolphin but its body appeared more human-like, slithering and inching closer as it strikes Horus why the hissing noise sounds so familiar to him. It was the sound that a radio makes when you’re searching through the channels and land the dial on a frequency that isn’t being broadcast, it was radio static.

The figure was about 200 feet away when Horus recognized it and his pupils were growing smaller as he seen the sight of a rounded head black figure with no eyes and sharp, jagged teeth, stained red from the consumption of a poor fellow out further ahead, his arms pressed too its long, slender body in pure, coal black before diving back in the snow. Out of sheer terror Horas seized up, falling to the ground, 100 yards away. His life flashing before his eyes, his breath heightening and heart pounding on his chest, 50 yards. The sound piercing louder and louder in his ear drums until it sounded like a massive thunderstorm, 25 yards. He started screaming loudly and trying to get back on his feet, pressing against the ground in fear, knowing that if he doesn’t get up he’s going to die, 10 yards. Then at the apex of the tremendous and terrible blaring noise of static and deafening fear a whispered *Pop* whizzed by his head and over his stood the creature that had eaten the poor, dead man 400 yards ahead. It had a circular head, a long concave jaw that hung open as the blood drips on his black, snow dusted winter’s coat.

The creature feel down, the lower half of his body somehow still encased in the snow. With heavy breath, and racing heart Horus sneaks around the snake, dolphin, human hybrid and saw a hole that started out small, but grew larger in the back of its head, barely making out expletives under his breath as he stares at the predator who almost made him into Tteokbokki. When he heard suddenly from behind him that made him jump from being startled rather violently, “YOU ALRIGHT, LOMPAKET?!” Horus immediately turned around to see a shorter girl in a white coat, tanned skin, and a screen over her face showing one large, digital eye.