The Man and his Fear (1-4)
And he stood before them and spoke: “I, who I am, proclaim the end and the beginning, the former goal and that which now stands before you. I proclaim the hatred that is coming for you – yes, the hatred that every man will feel – and I proclaim your death, born from that hatred. I proclaim the loneliness of the prophet, and I declare the corpses of his kind. The souls of your bodies – all of it will vanish. I, who I am, proclaim my name: The Void…” Down below descended the lonely souls, and the fear of the children could be heard. They did not walk, no, they were already lost. Yet the screams were there – audible, tangible in every breath. It was the Day of Solitude. It was the Day of the Void. The child, the little child lying in the cradle and crying – it was watched by its father. Alone and broken, he drank his bottle of beer and looked at the child. Not with reason, not with love – no, only with hatred. Breath – he lacked the breath of reason, the breath of pure validity. He looked at his son, then turned away and left. Out into the darkness, into which no child would ever be carried. They said about him that even in his youth, he spoke little – no, he did not speak at all. Many had seen him, yet none had heard his voice. In his mid-twenties, he was quite popular among the young women of the village. It seemed he spent more time with the women of the town than with the envious lads who despised him. He had youthful blond hair and the smile of an angel. His eyes were as blue as an ocean fallen from the sky, and his muscles resembled those of a Greek warrior. He was clever and quiet, which gave him a mysterious air – and yes, every young lady wanted to know more about him. He was charming, no doubt. Yet in this story, he was the vessel of the devil. With his mouth wide open, the evil flowed into him. The night was cold – as cold as his body, dwelling in the darkness. Now, fifty years had passed since the tragic disappearance of Roulip, whose name sounded strange and uncommon. The father, drowned in his own depression, had succumbed to death and shot himself in the head. The blood clung to the walls, and one of his eyes had landed in his glass – as if it had been the devil’s design that he should die this way. As the years passed, the fear grew that such a thing might happen again. So they tried to suppress the story, to live no longer with that terror in their hearts. But a young man named Naro was fascinated by such cases and began to investigate. He wondered if it was true – whether the father’s death and Roulip’s disappearance had truly been coincidence. He memorized the story and all its theories until there was nothing left for him not to know. And thus begins the story of Naro – a boy who was quite ordinary, and yet carried within him something no ordinary man would ever possess… In the morning, he awoke. It was quiet – too quiet. The landscape was still, yes, so still it seemed as if no one was there at all. Then he realized – it was early morning, so early that he still had plenty of time before work. He drank a coffee and then went into his small, undecorated shower. After putting on his shirt and a pair of torn jeans, he left the house. He owned a small car – enough for his needs. The air conditioning was the only thing that had to work in this heat. His commute was long – a full hour each way. He worked as a police officer in a small area of Texas. Not much ever happened there, but today things felt strange – suddenly, everything was hectic. The sheriff, known by many as The Watcher – because he always knew where to look for clues – shouted across the entire room. The six officers, including Naro, hurried toward him. “Where were you, boy?” asked The Watcher, glaring at the bewildered Naro, who wondered why everything was so loud. “Sorry, I’ll be faster next time. I promise.” The Watcher looked at him angrily, then turned back to the others. “There’s been a murder – four kilometers west of here. A patrol car found it by pure chance on the way back. When you arrive, you’ll see something few have ever seen – and something worse than you can imagine. The body was cut into four precise pieces, without a single fingerprint left behind. You are to search and investigate until the detectives arrive. Understood?” They all nodded and immediately headed to their patrol cars. Moments later, they drove off… “Do you see it, Naro? That’s a corpse. It doesn’t live, it doesn’t feel, it doesn’t breathe – and you’re staring right into its eyes. What do you feel?” Naro and The Watcher looked down at the corpse lying on the sandy ground. It was hot – very hot – so hot that everyone was sweating and tense. Naro stood on a rock that had a flat surface, just wide enough for him to stand upon. The Watcher slowly approached him. “You know, boy, you seem pretty brave for all this. Come with me.” The two went down through a pit into a small cave, dark as the night itself. The Watcher looked at him with his dark brown eyes. His mustache followed the wind drifting southward, and he spoke: “I just found this – not one, not two, no… fifteen, exactly counted human beings.” He turned on his light – and then they saw it… One hour earlier: I saw him. I looked upon his smile – that malicious expression as he disposed of the bodies. I saw him, truly saw him, and never had I felt such fear. He had torn them apart, into pieces of damnation. That fear… I can still feel it. What should I do? How can I do anything against this? I am only a young man who sought a place to sleep for the night – and now I’m trapped here, in this place of ruin. I am so afraid. Present: The corpses lay scattered on the ground. They lay there. Silent. Without soul, without hate. They were dead. Naro fell to the ground when he saw how many mutilated bodies lay before him. The presence was unbearable – like an orgy hosted by Death himself. Then they heard two voices – the sheriff and his terrified deputy. A man with torn clothing and an abnormally long, hairy body stepped out from behind a rock. Naro drew his weapon. “Hands up – and come toward me slowly!” But the man suddenly ran, so quickly that Naro missed his shot. The sheriff shouted and chased after him, while Naro came to his senses – realizing he had just wanted to kill a man. Yes, he would have done it, because at that moment, he had neither morality nor reason. After a long chase through the Texan desert, they saw nothing but the vast expanse where no human soul had ever set foot. The mysterious man wept as Naro and The Watcher finally cornered him. The man cried out – a cry that drove Naro further into madness: “I was afraid! I can’t take it anymore! I’m scared! Why did this fate have to follow me – and now lead me to death? It wasn’t me! It wasn’t me! But I can’t say anything!” Naro released the safety on his pistol and shouted at him: “Tell us – and maybe nothing will happen to you. You won’t die, but only if you speak!” The Watcher remained calm. He let Naro do his work and said nothing against these harsh measures. The man wept and pleaded: “I can’t say it! I’ll die – yes, I’ll die!” Naro pressed the gun against the man’s head. “Say i–” Before he could finish the sentence, the man screamed: “It was him! The man beside you! He did all of this! He’s a monster, a mon–!” A shot rang out – and the man fell to the ground. The Watcher had shot him right in the middle of the forehead. Then he suddenly turned his weapon on Naro and whispered softly: “You’ll understand once you return. Believe me, little man…” He pulled the trigger – and Naro fell to the ground.
