The day you meet your Villain

Then The Clock Struck Twelve

The girls watched anxiously in the darkness, waiting, while the strange wind continued to float around the room eyeing them like a hungry predator.

Suddenly there was a loud chime. it rang through the ears of both girls like the very knell of doom.

'it was eleven o'clock before... now it's...' Casey's thought were interrupted by the sound of a tremendous screeching. The wind about them immediately grew into a fierce whirlwind circling about the room and destroying everything in its wake.

“Thelma,” Casey called “Let’s get out of here”

The wind blew furiously around them rattling windows, slamming doors. Books fell to the ground with flapping pages. Glasses and china cups trembled on the mantles then crashed to the floor.

“Thelma!” Casey screamed above the noise of the wind.

Thelma stepped out of bed. The wind swept her back slamming her against the bookcase.

“Casey!”

“Rima, wake up!” Casey screamed as she managed to climb down to Rima’s bunk. The wind sucked at her. She clung to the ladder till her fingers ached and she felt her grip loosen. She was flung off towards the other side of the room, sustaining a deep cut on her forehead. Holding on to furniture, Thelma crawled over to her. The wind grew as tremendous as ever in the little room twirling around the four corners and causing great havoc. Thelma knew it was only a matter of time before it enveloped everywhere and perhaps, burst them all through the roof. They couldn’t survive that. Hanging on to the legs of the sofa, she caught hold of Casey’s arm then she fingered her way up to her shoulder, which she shook desperately.

Casey had lost consciousness from the blow. Thelma tried to wake her up to no avail. So clutching her nightdress, she dragged Casey towards her. For a girl, Thelma had plenty of strength. She had the build of a man with well-developed muscles and chest so it was no effort dragging the other girl over. However, yanking her up was a bit of a problem against the crashing wind but Thelma managed to get up with Casey slumped over the shoulder.

“Rima!” she called but the wind was blowing so much over, she could hardly see a thing. She supported Casey with her arm, holding her close with an effort and battling against the furious wind that was trying to suck then in. Then letting go of the sofa, she pushed them towards the door and with the wind to their advantage, they crashed right through.

To all my fellow writers of fiction and stories

Beware your thoughts, words and your writings

On the day life is given to your imagination

Let not your hearts be void of preparation

And to you who love the ones you hold dear

Shall you be steadfast to see that which is not there?

For many may forget, be quick to believe

The laws of nature and the histories

Remises looked at Dean to find his attention diverted. He followed his eyes. At one part of the room, the lights had begun to flicker. Remises looked back at Dean and said:

“It happens like that sometimes. It’s nothing to bother about. Do listen to this.” The lights went off completely at that instant and that part of the room plunged into darkness. Dean didn’t want his brother to see the fear he felt inside. He nodded bravely and with a wave, Remises read the last verse.

And finally beware, be vigilant and watchful

Keep a careful eye on the last day of June

For where the flash strikes in its wonderment,

A villain has come for judgment

Remises sighed and closed the book. He was surprised to find Dean staring at him with wide eyes when he looked up at him.

“What!”

Dean was gradually losing color. He reached out for a stool and perched on it, his face the color of tallow.

“What!” Remises demanded.

“Read it again. Just read it again… but take it slow this time.”

Remises cleared his throat. He picked up the book and patiently found the page again. Dean was sitting very still, looking more fragile than he usually was. As his brother read the poem again, he felt his heart begin to thump.

And finally beware, be vigilant and watchful

Remises looked up to see his expression. Dean was still stiff, staring with large eyes.

Keep a careful eye on the last day of June

For where the flash strikes in its wonderment,

Remises stopped when Dean made a rasping sound in his throat then tried to breathe deeply. He could tell by his expression that whatever he wanted to hear had been confirmed. He also saw that he looked sicker than ever so though he would have liked to probe into the matter, he wanted to give Dean enough time to pull himself together. Dean had that chance. Sitting there, on the tall stool, he contemplated for a few moments. Remises thought it was enough time for he was almost exploding with curiosity.

“Where the flash strikes in its wonderment?” he asked Dean

Dean rubbed his jaw. Remises thought he’d never seen him look more serious.

“What did that mean?”

“Before you woke up, something strange happened.”

“There was a bright light. That was what awoke me. It was very sharp.” Remises who always liked to figure things out before they were told him clinched. Dean knew he wouldn’t have to say much. For one, he knew that his eleven-year-old brother was the smartest person he’d yet met.

“Then, there was thunder so the flash must have been lightning…” his eyes opened wide “…where the flash strikes?!”

Dean took up from there. “This coruscation was one I’ve never witnessed in all my life. It was a sharp bright flash that streaked across the night sky and, while I watched, I saw… I saw it strike the window. The whole room was illuminated.” Dean felt weak “I’ve never seen the like!”

“Where the flash strikes…”

“I don’t believe it.”

“… In its wonderment…”

“I could have been anything.”

“A villain has come for judgment!”

“Aw, give me one very huge BREAK!”

Dean looked up sharply at Remises. At that moment, Remises saw his brother become even paler. He was looking over his head at the darkness behind him.

“Dean, what is it?”

Remises turned to look but saw nothing.

“I thought I saw…” Dean pointed “Over there… I thought I saw something…” he looked closer “… I saw something move.”

Remises looked again to find bleak darkness.

“It was a mouse”

“It was bigger than a mouse”

“Then it was a rat”

“It was huge!”

Remises heaved a sigh “It was nothing. You’re letting your imagination get to you.”

“I guess now it’s my turn to imagine.”

They looked up at each other and their eyes met. They smiled. The smile developed to a giggle and soon they were chuckling outright. Dean froze.

“There, it moved again!” he had begun to shake with fear.

“Calm down! I understand you’re terrified, but don’t get overexcited. This could be… I don’t know” Remises broke off.

Dean breathed in deeply. He tried to shift his gaze from the darkened corner of the room then clearing his throat, began his own analysis.

“A mad poet claims that tomorrow is a day to dread for all writers and story tellers. It is a day where they face a … villain, after he has picked them for judgment, by means of a flash of lightning.” He sighed “What is this villain?”

“I have a hunch” Remises looked at Dean. His brother read his eyes

“You don’t say!”

“He’s your villain, who else can he be?”

“I think you mean what! You mean it! It’s nothing but a character!”

“That’s the only thing she could have been referring to… she meant your villain.”

“So the villain of my story would like to judge me, like he has any right.”

Remises, who thought his brain was surging against his skull, threatening to blow out from so much cogitating, sighed deeply.

“I don’t know.”

“Mind you, this poet was deranged”

“Or so the whole world thought”

“You’re saying she wasn’t mad? That her husband was really taken away by something ‘out of the world’?”

Remises assumed his pensive look again. “Out of the world!” he became conscious of something “Then she meant out of… this world.”

“This world… the world… what’s the point?”

“A moment,” Remises got up and made to leave.

“Don’t!” Dean cried. His face contorted in fear and Remises, looking into his eyes saw a plea not to be left alone. Dean turned to look at the dark corner of the room again while Remises sat down.

“I was going to get the book ‘The day of the Dead’.”

“We have a copy?” Dean asked

“I once read the book somewhere around there” Remises pointed “But I’m not sure I can find it again in all the lot.”

“Wow! What won’t Dad acquire for this extravagant study?”

Remises knew Dean was trying to feel brave.

“Anyway,” he told him “I remembered, while reading it, that something was off. You see the book was… great is so much of an understatement. Before I read William Shakespeare, Hollander was my best writer. I gave him so much credit because of that book. However, Othello and Julius Caesar were soon to take its place… ah, and The Midsummer’s Night Dream…”

“Go to the point please!”

“Well, the point is, while reading the book I was quick to notice that the end was pretty… wrapped up. Most readers found it beautiful, fast-paced and dramatic, but I found it very sudden and abrupt. Besides, the main character, Gerlone, seemed unsure of what he was doing. I may be exaggerating a little, I can’t tell, but at the last scene, Gerlone didn’t know what he was doing at all. That must have been how it was. I loved the book that once I read it and have been unable to read it again, lost as it is, in all of these books but that was what I noticed at the end.”

“Wrapped up,” Dean drew his fingers through his wavy blonde hair in frustration “Out of the world, out of this world – you don’t really think…”

“That’s what I think.”

“It took him? It took him… for judgment? Villains have no right to judge! They’re not even alive!”

“On the day life is given to imagination,” Remises quoted from the poem then translated “When life is given to your thoughts… you mustn’t be caught unprepared”

“Then at least we’d be able to differentiate. He will get to answer his name over there, now wouldn’t he? Everyone will be able to tell.”

‘From the way I see it…. Once one goes out of this world, he becomes the main character over there; therefore, he takes up those attributes. No one will be able to tell.”

Dean drew his fingers through his hair again and rose up from the stool.

“Whatever happens… happens. I’m going to bed.” He sighed, resigned and very tired. Remises didn’t feel up to any defiance. He had a throbbing headache and felt like some sleep himself.

“Say, what’s the time?” he asked his older brother. He got up from the chair and placed the books at a corner while Dean screwed his eyes at the old grandfather clock on the wall beside them.

“The time is…”

Remises moved away from the table and glanced up at the clock himself.

Then they heard a crashing sound behind them.

Dean suddenly turned around to look with wide eyes at the corner of the room that had plunged into somberness. As he turned to look, the clock began to chime, sharply and loudly and severe. It chimed twelve times.

“Remises!”

Dean grabbed his brother by the hand. They dashed to the door, Remises confused, Dean desperate.

Dean dashed out of the room, clutching Remises by his arm. He flung the door shut and pushed the bolt in place. Behind the door came a loud slam, then another. Someone or something was kicking the door with great effort. Remises grew white staring with large frightened eyes. The door trembled and when it seemed like it was going to give way, the boys pushed their backs against it. The sharp blade of a great axe slashed through the wooded door just between their heads!