Divine Justice

DIVINE JUSTICE



         The dark night, pressed down upon the cold damp earth, broken only by the huge pale orb, the moon, that hung low in the sky dimming all surrounding but eliminating little. A stiff and a pungent odour hung in the air, one wood smoke, which never moved due to the absent breeze; one which was duly needed.  A tall, broad man was striding up a thin path, cut into a slab of pitch black granite, on the edge of a huge precipice; intimidatingly deep.

         The man was William Kushner, he had very long legs and arms, with a sloping forehead and a permanent scowl, which resulted in him often being described as the missing link, but to those who feared, and revered him he was called 'Sir', and to make matters worse, he was the richest man in town. This pampered social reject had pulled out all the stops, and gathered all his finest clothes for a parley somewhere ahead. His long limbs were masked by a pair of faded black trousers, a purple velvet waistcoat and a starched, tailed dinner jacket and from his pocket William produced a grey cloth cap and a handkerchief. With the latter he mopped his small bald patch and put the cloth cap on his head, before twiddling with his moustache. He always did this when he was nervous. His nerves were the only thing spurring him onwards into the dark unknown before him, before a grim cry of an unknown beast pierced the night, and caused William to shudder openly and lengthen his stride. Glancing over his shoulder, he wondered why he was risking all on this fruitless venture, after all it isn't in his nature to be inquisitive. But he had to know. He had to find meaning in the blank canvas before him. Without knowledge, he was without power. And that was all William truly craved.

         Suddenly, the blanket of pitch lifted; William audibly gasped. A truly terrific sight met his eyes. A gargantuan castle, towered up in to the sombre night, a massive quadrangular blot on the now star-studded sky. The path William had been walking turned grassy, but coarse, and it widened out into a large field, edged by a huge cliff, falling down to ice cold froth and foam being thrown up by elephantine waves crashing over huge jagged rocks, as sharp as blades. William plodded on, in total awe of the hidden gem, totally unknown to him before now, until he caught sight of an aged wooden sign, about 4 foot off the ground on a large wooden pole. He slowed his pace, then came to a halt and read:



William Kushner

YOU KEPT US WAITING.



         Blanching an suppressing a scream William ran ahead, loosing all sense of direction in his panic, but never loosing the castle. 'What have I got my self into?'  he thought, ' they know I'm here it's obvious they know! I'll call one of my team, get someone to pick me up from this God awful place.' William reached for his mobile phone, but it was missing. He turned around, to recover his steps, but the twinkling stars and the pockmarked moon provided insufficient illumination to find anything except his way. His mind began to spin, then galloped away; too frightened to make sense of it all, he tripped.  The wiry mass of entangled grass caused him to fall flat on his face, his nose rupturing into a spectacular flare of blood and mucus.  He got on to his knees, crouching there in a stupor, blood slowly dripping on to his trousers, tears trickling down his angular features.  He reached, once again, into his pockets searching for his handkerchief, but instead, his hands met a smooth piece of folded paper. The paper was cold to the touch and creased with absolute precision. Amazed at this new find, William unfolded it and read the note inside:



William Kushner

THE CASTLE IS CALLING YOU

YOU WILL BE LATE

BUT DONT MAKE US WAIT



William stood up. He read and reread  this Delphic dispatch, but came to no conclusion of how he came across it. He could not remember writing it, or being given it. And, certainly, he would have known if somebody had slipped it in too his pocket, he kept his clothes in his main chamber, where only he stepped foot into. he plunged his hand into his pocket again, rummaging around for another note, another clue to what was in store for him but, no such luck, he found nothing.



*    *    *    *



         William moved ever closer to the castle, trepidation welling up inside of him, and then he stopped. He thought he had heard something. Turning around, he saw nobody behind him. He continued walking but jumped around suddenly alarmed. But, again, nobody was there. Suddenly a hand gripped his forearm, long spindly fingers wrapped themselves around his jacket, constricting, like icy snakes of the night. William screamed. Leaping around he knocked the old man to the ground, cursing the night, and raising his foot in anticipation, ready to make a pre-emptive strike. But realisation hit him first, and William toppled over. Jumping to his feet, he brushed himself down, but made no attempt to pick up the commoner he almost kicked. Scowling at the man  William walked past him grumbling and shaking his head, but the stranger called out,

         “Hey there, mister!” he shouted with a Spanish twang, waving his arms frantically, a folded note in his hand, identical to the one William had. William turned slowly on his heal and glared at at the Spaniard, noticing the note. “I was just going to to wish you good luck,”

         “Why would I need good luck?” spat William, “I am William Kushner, I have been lucky all my life. I earn so much money, I can beat your yearly wage by just by just talking to you now!” William laughed and turned away from the Spaniard. But the persistent stranger, called after William, saying,

         “Then I take it back! Your going to need more than luck! Your going to get changed William Kushner, so be ready!”



*    *    *    *



“I wonder what's in there,” William pondered to himself as he reached the huge dark oak doors. “I was half expecting a moat,” he muttered. The castle was made with colossal slabs of cold granite, moss was clinging to the walls, whilst being drenched by the heavy air, think with mist from the sea. Looking up, William lost sight of the stars, the moon and the sky. His clothes soon began to get saturated with salt water, for he stood there, transfixed, at this monstrous  sight. Three corpse like figures sat of top of the arch way on top of the door. Each one was human like in appearance, but grotesquely disfigured. Each statue was couching down, with fists full of coins and notes, their bone like fingers caressing the fake currency. Their skin was gaunt, white and powdery, their skin seemingly dripping of their faces, but each with a look of deep satisfaction and smugness. Their suits and dresses were mangled, the lady's hair was thick with moss and was matted one of the men were was weathered and filthy, hanging limply of their and angular skeletal features. If William had not known that they were stone, their realism would of made him run a mile.

         A cold wind whipped up around him making him stumble and the doors open with alarming force and uncharacteristic speed. A tall, slender woman stepped out of the darkness and called,

         “ William Kushner. Welcome.”  The woman was shrouded in darkness. It enveloped her entirely and cocooned her very essence, lacing her words with malice, turning every action into one of destruction, her stance full of malice and dripping with enmity. William stumbled backwards, turned around, and ran. He was not going to be the cat curiosity killed. He ran and he ran, the grass beneath his feet slipping away until he was running on air, everything went black, then a bright light. The light almost blinded him, he jerked his head up ward to see the source, but only saw the shadowy figure of a monstrous lady, raising her arm and bringing it down, colliding it with Williams face, knocking him out cold.



*    *    *    *

         William's head was lolling on his shoulder. His eyes began to open, but he shut them tight. His face was hot, a bead of sweat cascaded off his pointed nose on to his lap. Three tremendous lamps were being shone on to William, surrounding him in a close swaddle of light. The room was of unknown proportions, but it sounded big. The echoes of a strangers footsteps reverberated from wall to wall magnifying at each bounce.

         “Its you again isn't it?” called William, “answer me!”

         “Temper, temper Mr. Kushner, that will not do at all,” cooed a lady's angelic voice. William knew it was the same dark, twisted woman from before, and felt resentment rise up in his body, wanting to thrash out at her, to fight her.

         “Who are you?” he called, “tell me! Please!” William stood up, but found his hands bound by thick, tough but papery ropes, and his legs were shackled by golden chains. “Why have you tied me up? What do you want with me?!” he screamed out of desperation, not anger.

“I will untie you, in due course, but you need to repent your ways!”

         “what?” Exclaimed William, “repent my ways? You are the one who should repent! You kidnapped me! Your imprisoning me! This is all against the law!”

         “Against your laws, not the Fathers.” said the lady, in a quiet but carrying hiss.

         “Oh, for crying out loud!” shouted William, attempting to raise his hands above his head, but only reaching as high as his chest, “ Your a pious nut, aren't you? A religious fanatic!”

         “HOW DARE YOU!” screeched the lady, her silhouette growing in magnitude, great feathery cysts seemingly sprouting from her back, “ NEVER INSULT HIM AGAIN!!”

         The lady stepped in to view of William, and he screamed. He screamed so loud that he fainted, falling into a restless coma, full of images of the tortuous night that ensued for his limp body.

         “You will never learn, William Kushner, so you let us hope that others like you learn from  your pitiful example and learn not to follow your path,” whispered the angelic demon, caressing Williams lifeless body, “God help you rest in peace.



*    *    *    *



Standing out side the magnificently terrifying castle, the arrogant and well dressed ma noticed four limp, lifeless, statue like bodies, each clutching at gold and notes of money, when the doors swung open, unnaturally fast.