Page 3 of Ghoul

Warehouse

Cleveland, Ohio

Darkness wasn’t something I feared. No, I embraced every second of that cold yet somewhat comforting invitation. I gave up trying to keep the light burning inside. Such a torch would come in handy in warding off one’s own demons left twinkling within the background of my head. An eternal uphill battle, both mental and physical, was fought to get to this point of acceptance in my life. It took accepting my mental illness to be able to move forward. At least, that was what one of the many so-called PhDs who dissected me throughout my years had said.

Now, I welcomed the iniquitous whispers as they penetrated my skull and put them to good use. When death crawled closer, and I began to smell all those lost souls surrounding me, I found myself most alive. I was a flawed individual, there was absolutely no questioning that. My insides were made up of too many fragmented pieces that were damaged beyond mending to ever return to normalcy…not that I ever truly knew it anyway.

A sadistic smile of pleasure overtook my face as I nodded in agreement with Spider, President of our chapter of the Royal Bastards Motorcycle Club. “You got it, Spider.” His instructions were clear, and the plan pristine. I was to get answers by any means necessary.

“Is that a problem?”

“Not at all, Boss,” I reassured him, pulling a cigar from the front pocket of my shirt hidden behind my cut and secured it between my teeth. “My pleasure,” I added, cupping my hand around the tip and lit the end of the cigar. Gray smoke billowed outward from my lips and mixed with the dark blue sky.

Using the tip of my worn black boot, I flipped the spaded end of the shovel upward and caught the handle with my opposite hand, not bothering to lift the metal from the ground. I loved to intimidate those who trespassed against us; it helped them remember the huge mistake they’d made when they had done so. The aluminum raked against the asphalt with each step I put between Spider and me.

From the other side of the pitch-black warehouse, a frightened voice called, “Come on, man! Hello? Surely we can work something out!”

I stifled the sarcastic laugh and tightened the grip around my smoke with my teeth. Our club wasn’t unreasonable, we approached every situation with a good amount of level-headedness. In fact, we put things to a club vote more often than not. This particular narc’s fate had unraveled long before I parked my Harley or had even gotten out of bed today. The potential ending to his story was written in a cliff-hanger as my brothers and I sat in church deliberating two nights ago. The time for bargaining had passed.

As the noise dragging behind in my shadow evened out with the smooth concrete, one solitary thought flooded my brain in response as I strode over the threshold, There was a very large possibility I was about to take this man’s life. I was voluntarily enlisting myself to drown amongst the forgotten and damned souls once again when my head was barely bobbing above the water as it was. This was something to label most as the unforgiven. However, it wasn’t trepidation forcing my veins to expand and collapse as fast as the rapids beneath Niagara. It was pure unbridled exhilaration.

“I see the fire moving closer. What is that noise? Please, just turn on the lights, and we can talk about this man to man,” he frantically pled. His credulous mind, no doubt, spitting out ideas and working overtime as his fight or flight kicked into high gear, trying to bargain with me.

“Ha. That’s not possible.” I half-heartedly laughed.

“Wh-Why’s that?” he stuttered over his short statement, letting his curiosity get the better of him.

“The way I see it is only one of us is a man.”

“I know I shouldn’t have screwed you all over. Please, have mercy.”

“No.” I shook my head, lifting the shovel from the ground, and inhaled so the embers would provide just enough light for me to aim. “You see, you’ve got it wrong. We are both weakened flesh on the exterior, but inside, we’re different.”

“How?”

I rolled my eyes in response and decided to humor the question. “Legend has it a ghoul can be created many ways. Supernatural phenomena would be one, like a disturbed spirit that possesses a person. But you want to know my favorite?” I paused, but not waiting for him to answer. “Another theory is that blood from a monster is injected into a person so often that they’re driven to insanity, and all that remains is the desire to kill.”

He breathed out heavily, and at that moment, I swung the shovel as hard as I could against his shin. His guttural shriek filled the blackness we found ourselves in, and the sound thundered up through my body and into the heavens as I licked my lips with gratification.

“You’re messed up. You. Are. Sick.”

My head fell back as an unintentional chuckle passed my mouth, “You have no idea. Trust me. This is only the beginning.”

“If you think they won’t find you, you’re an idiot.”

“The devil himself couldn’t drag me away from here right now,” I assured him in a confident voice, aligning the metal with another inhale of smoke.

“Please,” he begged, and I shook my head, knowing he couldn’t see me deny his plea, forcefully swinging in his body’s direction.

Loud heavy metal music blasted into the emptiness; it was Spider’s way to drown out the man’s cries. My heart thrashed with anticipation, knowing what came next in the freak show was the execution.

As the first light pulsated, my brain ticked along with the beat, and I nodded my head in rhythm. His irises glistened with horror in the intermittent flashes, and I dropped the shovel to the ground with a clatter. I wasn’t done, not by a long shot. This was what had landed me with my road name. Enjoyment washed over me. Other people cringed when they were put in the position I was tonight, torturing another human being. On the other hand, I would dive off the edge of a skyscraper with arms open wide to see what was on the other side, waiting. For it was only then that I embraced what I was truly birthed unto this world to be. Ghoul.

---