Author Information
Sheram
Sheram
Marvin stood at the corner, beneath the stoplight, and awed at the simplicity surrounding him. This quaint little town he found himself in was charming, but stuck in a totally different time. Sheram was its name. Spanning only four miles in a straight line, the cluster of homes and few small businesses had only maintained independence and separation due to its distance from any other cities of note.
While the streets were clean and its buildings well-kept, the people came off as unfriendly and defiant. Marvin had only been in town for the past hour, and everyone he spoke to either ignored him or shooed him away. A group of jovial older women refused to respond to or even make eye contact with him when spoken to on the street. After entering the local grocery store and seeking out the manager, Marvin was told to be on his way, and to not return without making some kind of purchase. He had only come with a few questions. He was a reporter after all, and a considerably respected one at that.
There had been certain rumors the previous year. Officials in Hartwell, a modest city north of Sheram, had started to notice that their city’s criminal drug trade, which had been thriving well out of the police department’s control, was beginning to recede on its own. They attempted to investigate the cause, but never found anything besides former hot spots that had been totally cleaned out, wiped of everything and in some cases even burned to the ground. Locals rejoiced, but the circumstances surrounding these events alarmed everyone in charge, and they brought the issue to any set of eyes that they could. After several months of painstaking investigation, a group of private eyes working cooperatively managed to piece together a trail indicating that many of the more notable dealers in the city had transferred their operations to Sheram, of all places. Worse still, there was also a substantial amount of evidence suggesting that these formerly warring partnerships were now working in tandem.
That was what had brought Marvin here. He was an out-of-townee, here to use this pale little backwash settlement like a whore and leave after he’d found what he was looking for. The populous didn’t seem to appreciate that. He couldn’t imagine why. It was publicity! They would be seen by people nationwide!
The signal turned, and Marvin strode across the cracking pavement, unsure of where to head next. No one had been responsive so far. He couldn’t interview anyone too young, or someone would start an uproar and brand him a creep. There was this constant tension between him and anyone that he would pass on the sidewalk. It was as if this entire town were against him. He knew that some people may know his face and respond negatively to his presence, but this seemed almost… Uniform.
There was an odd sort of solidarity to things here. Every aspect of the town seemed to comply to it. The streets were universally quiet. Marvin couldn’t remember any instances of loud music from any houses, garages or cars. No yelling, for the most part. No dogs. A bird here or there. Other than the lazy swish of the occasional passing car, the air remained totally still, as if it were frozen in time.
Passing by what was likely to be the only gas station in town, Marvin decided to get himself a cup of coffee. He wanted to observe the people who worked there, without raising questions or making himself conspicuous. He was pleasantly surprised at the tidy upkeep of the grounds it lay on, and entered quietly, giving a polite nod to the young, bespectacled teenager behind the counter. Moving casually to the coffeemaker, he looked around the tiled storeroom and saw only one customer besides himself: an elderly man who wore a billed winter hat despite the warmth of the day. He gave him a polite nod as well, but was only greeted with a cold stare in return. Taking the hint, he added a quick blast of sugar to his coffee and moved towards the register. Placing it on the counter top, he reached for his wallet and greeted the young man. The boy said nothing. He wasted no time ringing up his total, and snatched the money from Marvin’s hands, shoving the change back into them just as quickly before slamming the register drawer shut. He then turned and made his way towards the back of the shop, disappearing through a door bearing a large employees only sign, leaving Marvin to sip at his coffee while the old man with the brimmed hat muttered to himself under his breath.
After leaving the gas station and tossing away the remainder of his coffee, Marvin made his way through a string of old, wooden farmhouses, coming to stop at the entrance of the town’s church. It was a pristine little building, made out of pale-colored bricks with high and narrow stained-glass windows. Not being a particularly religious man, Marvin was unsure of whether or not to enter the holy building. But, men of the cloth may be the most understanding men there are. Perhaps they would at least entertain the thought of conversation with an outsider. He laid his palms upon the large wooden doors and pressed his weight against them.
Inside, Marvin found a lavish entryway lit with only a meager half-dozen candles. It was broad and welcoming, and adorned with many decorative relics, most of which shone brilliantly in the candlelight. He stood in the center and admired the room, before passing into the church’s dome. From within, the vaulted ceilings beneath the center of the church appeared much more towering. The entire building somehow seemed larger than it had ever appeared from the exterior. Likely due to this dim lighting. Nothing but candles on stilts, every eight feet or so, as if electricity weren’t an option for the righteous.
Making his way deeper into the church, Marvin was able to see the visage of a man through the obscuring dark. He sat on the furthest pew, with his head down, seemingly deep in prayer. As he ventured further, he could just make out a thin, white collar around the man’s neck. A priest. And surely, a priest would hear his tale, would he not? It is his purpose to hear the pleas of the people who worship alongside him! Excited by this prospect, Marvin paused to call out to the priest, but felt compelled not to disturb the silence of the church, and continued walking.
His steps became more plodding as he moved. It was like the dust-laden air was pulling on him. Puling him down. He examined his surroundings, trying to reacquaint himself with reality. The stained-glass windows he had seen from outside were oddly bright and vibrant. They even appeared wider than before. Maybe somebody’s headlights shining in from the street. Marvin continued to make his way down the decorated carpeting that lead to the podium. The entire room had a certain clarity to it now. He could make out the far walls, most of which were layered with religious artwork. There were detailed statues placed on stands at every height, and colored glass bled between each one.
As he approached, the walls took on a more decrepit appearance. The perfectly-sculpted statues gradually corroded into sneering mockeries of what they once had been. Paint dripped down every canvas, while glass chipped and flaked on to the floor, collecting in massive piles of multicolored dust. Marvin began to flail, his eyes grown wide and bulging. He felt a vicious burning in his throat. Through his blurring vision, he saw that the priest remained motionless on his pew. He fell to the floor, seizing, choking on the dry thickness of the air.
The heavy pull was stronger now. The hemorrhaging walls began to collapse, revealing the flesh of some ghastly, pulsating form. Tears poured down his cheeks as he tried to call out, but Marvin found his voice absent. He was losing sight of himself as he watched the quivering, pinkened hide of the creature beyond the wall ripple with every undulation that it made. It seemed to fill the entire room with a strange, unearthly noise; its volume totally unclear to Marvin, who felt it more than heard it while he suffered.
He began to see wisps of stark black flickering in and out of view. He was fading. In his last few moments of awareness, Marvin lifted his head and gazed upward. The priest had risen, and stood over him, wearing an expression of the deepest concern. Marvin took comfort in this, and allowed his eyes to close. A deep wave of euphoria sprang from his throat and ran awash over the rest of his body. He fell limp, and his eyes eased open as his neck relaxed.
The priest remained over him; his concerned grimace contorting into a leering grin, while a single drop of blood ran from his nose to his lip.
