Dark Fiction: Chapter 1
Posted February 2nd, 2008 by Hazel
Words: Kim Ribbons
The curtain snapped shut, the deep purple rippling like silk for a brief moment. Shame it was actually cheap, harsh polyester. The rail the curtain hung on was cracked, threatening to collapse at any moment. The walls were not straight and the paint was peeling in several areas. There were no windows in this section of the funeral parlour so it relied on thick blubs to brighten the room. Unfortunately, three of the five bulbs had blown, so half the room was shrouded in darkness.
Nicholas liked the dark, but the others complained. The girls were scared and the guys continually fell over the coffins. The maintenance man should have come on Monday, but he never appeared. The last time he had appeared at Gareth & Sons Funeral Parlour was 1987. The company couldn’t afford to do the work itself; the company couldn’t afford most of what it needed. Nicholas often said as much, this time was no exception.
“That’s the last one,” Mike boomed in his usual boss-like voice. When the girls were working, he always played up, trying to show off and get into their knickers. It never worked, but Mike was too thick to get the hint.
“Guess we can close up for today. Nic get this place shut,” Mike ordered, strolling past Nicholas, his body reeking of sweat. Mike was a 28 year old, fat and ginger with a BO problem and an IQ level of a teaspoon. Nicholas hated the guy, but he was the manager. How he had got the job was unknown, but apparently he had been ‘best option at the time.’
There must have been some fucking dumbass people here before me, Nicholas thought as he pulled out his pile of keys and began to lock up. Voices trailed away behind him. There was a crash and then Mike’s stupid laugh. That guy had no idea how to treat girls.
But we do...
Nicholas was 26, had black hair and blue eyes. He was roughly 6” 3’ and had a slight frame with more muscles on his top half than lower. We wore black trousers, black shirt, black tie and a black jacket. It was the code of the company; every employee had to wear black clothing, no colour at all. It fitted in well with Nicholas’ choice of lifestyle. He was a corporate Goth in the day and a cyber Goth at night. He was the only Goth at the company; the other employees didn’t want to know about his lifestyle. Some were curious, but never decided to follow. They only worked here. He didn’t mind, they didn’t bother him and he didn’t bother them. Unlike a few idiots that had decided to make his life a misery at every chance.
“Ahem! Nic?” came a shrill voice behind Nicholas. His hand gripped a door knob tightly, blood draining away from his knuckles. Nicholas forced himself to relax. He knew who it was, if only he knew how to get rid of her.
“Yes Val?” Nicholas asked, not turning away from his work. He could describe Val in three, words; short, annoying and clingy. Val was currently trying to dress like Amy Winehouse, but failing miserably. Her dark brown ‘beehive’ was lopsided and she looked more like a council-trash gypsy than drug-jazz idol. She was only 19 and thought she had a chance with Nicholas. There was no way in Hell he would lower his standards that far! Besides, she was a follower of all the hip-hop, ghetto crap. A corporate-by-day and cyber-by-night Goth like Nicholas would only go with hip-hop if they were put in the same grave. And thankfully Nichols knew that would never happen while he worked here.
“I know you said before that you didn’t like the music I’m into,” started Val in that small whiny voice, “but why don’t you give it a try? You never know you might like Amy Winehouse, or the Kooks.”
Nicholas sighed, trying his hardest not to explode.
“Val I’ve told you before,” he said through gritted teeth, his Welsh accent strong, “I have heard depressing jazz music before and I can honestly say I don’t like it. I don’t want to come to a jazz concert, I never will go and there is nothing you can say to make me. Now please go home before your mother worries where you are and I’ll see you tomorrow morning at half nine ok?”
He had to be nice to her; Val’s mother was the biggest bitch he had ever seen. The woman had reduced a man to tears before, and had a history of drunken violence towards men. Nicholas didn’t want to be on the receiving end of that fucked up chav.
A door slammed and Nicholas breathed a sigh of relief. Finally he was alone. He ran a hand through his jet-black hair, then rubbed his face trying to wipe away his fatigue. Last night he had gone to his mother’s home, which was all the way back in Wales, near Carmarthen. He had driven all the way there, then all the way back to London at 2 o’clock in the morning. He had arrived home at 7, had two hours of sleep, and then had to get up for work at 11. It had been a long day, especially when his mother had started yelling at him. She was slowly starting to become immune to her medication, so soon she wouldn’t recognise Nicholas nor her other three children. She had mistaken Nicholas for her long dead adulterous husband and had thrown several plates. Luckily all had missed. Nicholas knew it would be a long time before she hurt herself, but his three sisters wouldn’t hear it.
But no time to dwell on that now, time for some fun...
Closing the main door, Nicholas smiled. Tonight he was planning on going to an alternative gig down at the Purple Spike. He hadn’t been for a while, and some of the faces may have changed. He hoped to see Gary there, or possibly James if he hadn’t already moved to Canada yet. Shoving the keys back into his pocket, Nicholas started home. He had missed the scene at the Purple Spike, work commitments and other problems – his mother being one – had kept him away. Another reason he wanted to go see the ‘Spike again was for his love life. Nicholas hadn’t had a girl in months and he was definitely feeling the frustration. Even as he walked, his feet stomped harshly on the pavement. Yes tonight he was definitely in need of some action. A sly smile crept along his face. Tonight, he planned to do much much more.
* * *
The curtain snapped shut, the deep purple rippling like silk for a brief moment. Shame it was actually cheap, harsh polyester. The rail the curtain hung on was cracked, threatening to collapse at any moment. The walls were not straight and the paint was peeling in several areas. There were no windows in this section of the funeral parlour so it relied on thick blubs to brighten the room. Unfortunately, three of the five bulbs had blown, so half the room was shrouded in darkness.
Nicholas liked the dark, but the others complained. The girls were scared and the guys continually fell over the coffins. The maintenance man should have come on Monday, but he never appeared. The last time he had appeared at Gareth & Sons Funeral Parlour was 1987. The company couldn’t afford to do the work itself; the company couldn’t afford most of what it needed. Nicholas often said as much, this time was no exception.
“That’s the last one,” Mike boomed in his usual boss-like voice. When the girls were working, he always played up, trying to show off and get into their knickers. It never worked, but Mike was too thick to get the hint.
“Guess we can close up for today. Nic get this place shut,” Mike ordered, strolling past Nicholas, his body reeking of sweat. Mike was a 28 year old, fat and ginger with a BO problem and an IQ level of a teaspoon. Nicholas hated the guy, but he was the manager. How he had got the job was unknown, but apparently he had been ‘best option at the time.’
There must have been some fucking dumbass people here before me, Nicholas thought as he pulled out his pile of keys and began to lock up. Voices trailed away behind him. There was a crash and then Mike’s stupid laugh. That guy had no idea how to treat girls.
But we do...
Nicholas was 26, had black hair and blue eyes. He was roughly 6” 3’ and had a slight frame with more muscles on his top half than lower. We wore black trousers, black shirt, black tie and a black jacket. It was the code of the company; every employee had to wear black clothing, no colour at all. It fitted in well with Nicholas’ choice of lifestyle. He was a corporate Goth in the day and a cyber Goth at night. He was the only Goth at the company; the other employees didn’t want to know about his lifestyle. Some were curious, but never decided to follow. They only worked here. He didn’t mind, they didn’t bother him and he didn’t bother them. Unlike a few idiots that had decided to make his life a misery at every chance.
“Ahem! Nic?” came a shrill voice behind Nicholas. His hand gripped a door knob tightly, blood draining away from his knuckles. Nicholas forced himself to relax. He knew who it was, if only he knew how to get rid of her.
“Yes Val?” Nicholas asked, not turning away from his work. He could describe Val in three, words; short, annoying and clingy. Val was currently trying to dress like Amy Winehouse, but failing miserably. Her dark brown ‘beehive’ was lopsided and she looked more like a council-trash gypsy than drug-jazz idol. She was only 19 and thought she had a chance with Nicholas. There was no way in Hell he would lower his standards that far! Besides, she was a follower of all the hip-hop, ghetto crap. A corporate-by-day and cyber-by-night Goth like Nicholas would only go with hip-hop if they were put in the same grave. And thankfully Nichols knew that would never happen while he worked here.
“I know you said before that you didn’t like the music I’m into,” started Val in that small whiny voice, “but why don’t you give it a try? You never know you might like Amy Winehouse, or the Kooks.”
Nicholas sighed, trying his hardest not to explode.
“Val I’ve told you before,” he said through gritted teeth, his Welsh accent strong, “I have heard depressing jazz music before and I can honestly say I don’t like it. I don’t want to come to a jazz concert, I never will go and there is nothing you can say to make me. Now please go home before your mother worries where you are and I’ll see you tomorrow morning at half nine ok?”
He had to be nice to her; Val’s mother was the biggest bitch he had ever seen. The woman had reduced a man to tears before, and had a history of drunken violence towards men. Nicholas didn’t want to be on the receiving end of that fucked up chav.
A door slammed and Nicholas breathed a sigh of relief. Finally he was alone. He ran a hand through his jet-black hair, then rubbed his face trying to wipe away his fatigue. Last night he had gone to his mother’s home, which was all the way back in Wales, near Carmarthen. He had driven all the way there, then all the way back to London at 2 o’clock in the morning. He had arrived home at 7, had two hours of sleep, and then had to get up for work at 11. It had been a long day, especially when his mother had started yelling at him. She was slowly starting to become immune to her medication, so soon she wouldn’t recognise Nicholas nor her other three children. She had mistaken Nicholas for her long dead adulterous husband and had thrown several plates. Luckily all had missed. Nicholas knew it would be a long time before she hurt herself, but his three sisters wouldn’t hear it.
But no time to dwell on that now, time for some fun...
Closing the main door, Nicholas smiled. Tonight he was planning on going to an alternative gig down at the Purple Spike. He hadn’t been for a while, and some of the faces may have changed. He hoped to see Gary there, or possibly James if he hadn’t already moved to Canada yet. Shoving the keys back into his pocket, Nicholas started home. He had missed the scene at the Purple Spike, work commitments and other problems – his mother being one – had kept him away. Another reason he wanted to go see the ‘Spike again was for his love life. Nicholas hadn’t had a girl in months and he was definitely feeling the frustration. Even as he walked, his feet stomped harshly on the pavement. Yes tonight he was definitely in need of some action. A sly smile crept along his face. Tonight, he planned to do much much more.
