Rwlct58
01-22-2018, 02:39 PM
Hello everyone. I am new to this forum because I wrote a short story and want to share to get feedback and critique if necessary. The title of my story is Rubicon Gate and follows a health institute bodyguard watching over a recovered mental patient he developed a bond with. When unforeseen circumstances result in an unfortunate turn of events, he is forced to undertake measures to hunt down the guilty, which results in uncovering an area similar to a traumatic childhood nightmare.
Thanks for taking the time to read.
The ever-darkening world seemed to endure forever, feeding off whatever petty cynical neuroses from egoist personalities - which had to be vigilantly repelled day in day out - seemed to dictate. For Conrad, the futility in general never lifted and became more real every day like a mantra that would never cease. Remaining grounded to comprehend did little to quell the intangible yet imminent danger looming anywhere public. Whether on the street or hitching a bus ride, he rarely felt a genuine sense of security. In visual form, the fear could have been a myriad of invisible claws reaching from every conceivable direction, out of reach yet ever-threatening with deadly persuasion hiding intent to mislead.
With vigilant grace under pressure however, he figured himself more fortunate to hold the particular insight as opposed to the common others with no idea what lurked up the bend. The final night was a quiet farewell to this city he had grown overly familiar with and could not wait to depart from in the morning. It hit long ago, that the rest of the world in general had no hope to be saved.
-----
The northward climate in general had been much preferred over the former, now left behind. The environmental blend of modest population centers marked by sleek metallic buildings, surrounded by mountainous dynamic landscapes of pine tree stretches under an unpolluted blue sky with greater opportunities for desired reclusion felt more natural to him. However it was not the only factor that made the move convenient in general.
Kyra worked a well-paying job as a room attendant in an industrious hotel complex. She had already adjusted well to her new life, much to the relief of her former caretakers. A former mental patient, she had suffered horrid abuse from manipulation by fickle strangers acting as friends, which left a dire mark on her ability to maintain. To their relief, she learned faster than predicted to repel such odious phases of manic spontaneous impulse - the dis-ease, they called it - over time through differing yet elaborate audio therapy that had a miraculously calming effect. Upon reaching full recovery, they released her with a regained opportunity to lead a normal life, like she had “crossed the rubicon” through unbearable psychological torment only to emerge triumphant through gates leading beyond. The clinic responsible was not a “mental hospital” in the common sense, but more of a home for particularly bizarre oddities - whether physical or behavioral - to get more proper treatment that was not harmful or abusive for which other hospitals held notoriety in conduct. Getting to meet strangeness never known or understood to the public and uncovering effective remedies to ease life in a benevolent manner for any afflicted subject made his daily job at the clinic pay off more than anticipated. Having the travel distance reduced to walking range already seemed in that regard like a positive sign.
She held a strong passion for making art. The surreal characters Conrad watched her draw with pencil and ink struck a unique chord that betrayed repeated leaning toward the notion of such being “childish” for him. However as luck had it, Kyra had a persuasive yet benevolent charm in her persona that encouraged him to unlock and overcome unknown defense mechanisms embedded within untouched regions of the psyche. Conrad had outgrown a more rebellious attitude of skepticism adopted during adolescence, with the latter half lingering more. She always ushered him to love himself first, though only half the time it proved a more easy than strenuous task on his own. “Any day can be the last in your life,” she said. “Make each day unforgettable.”
Having another light in his own life proved vital. From personal experience, Conrad knew better than anyone that being alone left only a dark and empty road lying ahead. Most public areas in general made him feel nervous like wandering through a concrete ocean of futility. Civilians who lacked decent mannerisms in general were never favorable company, but he shrugged it off every time. Every day in the forgone city he would momentarily overhear a random passerby obnoxiously chatting with a dim-witted acquaintance regarding overblown specifics to a far-fetched and ludicrous theory revolving around a particular video game franchise. The vocal tone and character reeked of sleazy, almost cult-like vibes indicating the type he wanted nowhere near himself or Kyra.
Had anyone inquired as to how a line-shaped scar once visible down the left side of his face - appearing like the inflictor nearly took out the eye directly above - came to be, he gave a brief story regarding an armed intruder breaking into the home at night. Neither he nor clinic familiars wanted to risk stirring any falsehood-driven rumors regarding the real triggers for Kyra's phases of violent savagery that resulted from the dis-ease. They knew it was no fault of her own.
-----
Sid had a persistent history of reckless behavior, whether making insulting posts on social media pages or getting involved in controversial political activity. One night at a bar during a visit, he even attempted to stir up dangerously provocative subject matter, to which Conrad refrained from contributing in public for not wanting to attract unwanted nearby attention. He knew too much regarding the shady dealings of the political underworld to get entangled in their petty and manipulative struggles, and learned to keep a safe distance. Yet he held onto the notion of the long-time friend being misguided to a degree and harboring unrealized potential that would allow prosperity in a more favorable pursuit. Hoping that time would bend to the advantage, he figured a visit had been long overdue. It proved sheer convenience Sid lived only a matter of blocks from Kyra.
The plan became suddenly null with the rotating glare of red light from local police cars parked in front of the designated house with yellow tape blocking public entry, indicating the occurrence of a homicide. Conrad was about to inform Kyra when suddenly he got a report of gunshots being heard back at the hotel that employed her. Then a horrifying revelation hit, indicating the house incident being only a diversion by the instigator to render their real target more vulnerable.
Upon reaching the hotel, it then proved the fatal attack - leaving her in a severely wounded and immobilized state - was a retaliation from a depraved and illicit black market ring after one of their own dealers got recently kicked out from the complex and busted by the local law. The capture in turn brought down a connection within their corrupt trade. On the verge of every trace of hope vanishing, within seconds Conrad felt a strange aura coil around his own living vessel - like a fortuitous last resort triggered by the magnitude of the grim condition - announced by a chill from beneath the skin. He made no attempt to resist, immediately recognizing and having been warned by a vast knowledge source back at the clinic regarding negative effects of the horrific and inexplicable specialty if not “channeled” properly. Now it proved the only definite chance to identify the trail of the guilty party and corner them before they got away.
Once it finally settled like a psychedelic hallucinogen, not even a mere threat to inflict the most ruthless laceration possible could overthrow the after-effect of heightened sensory capacity. It pinpointed the thin outline of foot prints left by the culprit, leading out the front door and into the former parking spot of a now-departed getaway car. Even the tire tracks became viewable while he engaged steady pursuit on foot with a tranquil intuition not rushed nor sudden, following their trail on the road from the sidewalk. To unsuspecting outsiders, he was on an average nightly walk.
-----
The following led to an abandoned structure bordering the countryside that once served as a community center. A greater prediction of dread began to evolve with descending to a basement floor, following the foot path to a crumbling bookshelf which he pushed aside to unveil a hidden passageway leading downward. Given the notion that no one ever came to the desolate outpost anymore, it was scary enough to ponder how much trouble got made by the very scheme - which would vilify the otherwise intriguing history behind the building itself - he now feared to encounter.
With further pacing, venomous energies seemed to form out of focus as intangible toxic “trails” of pitch-black fog, infected with the most salacious and vice-ridden intent. They and their vision were ignored to the point of catching a glimpse of scattered photocopied drawings not unlike those which Kyra would passionately draw, and the utterly foul treatment stained unto by their abusers. A brief stint of miasma hit at the crippling acknowledgement of horrific fact as to how a seemingly juvenile mockery done unto any piece of paper - so deeply part of an individual being on a metaphysical level than the original maker might fathom - went a frighteningly long way in tampering with the owners’ psychological structure. It occurred on a dangerously subtle yet life-threatening degree, often before the victim had a chance to identify it. Such proved to be the root cause of the dis-ease that plagued Kyra for a long time. Why it took so long to find out where their casters were hiding would have to wait.
With clinging to the hope for Kyra’s survival, the commitment undertaken felt nothing like a petty motive of revenge now. He and clinic familiars were fully aware of the invisible and enormously horrific wave of influence exercised by the outlawed cult to which the culprits and their trade ring acted on behalf. Even if he failed to completely embrace himself, at least the safety of more fortunate lives would be ensured. Miraculously enough, he suffered no loss of intuition, remaining intact with every silent footfall vibration felt only to him. For the targeted then grew within earshot from around the nearing corner. They seemed to be speaking to a child with patronizing word intending to seduce the naive. When Conrad got an idea of what they implied, it revived terrible certainty bearing chilling resemblance to what had been captured in a traumatic childhood nightmare. One so terrifyingly believable that it raised his suspicion regarding how “normal” society really functioned the more he looked at people in general ever since.
Contrary to the harrowing outcome witnessed in the horrid dream years gone, a potential repeat became aborted with effortless aim around the corner, followed by accurate open fire on the first culprit in range. It brought instant death in front of the accomplice and the kidnapped, who backed away from the other with growing awareness it had been lured into a deceptive trap. The sickly antagonist held a crude blade in hand with which it lunged at Conrad, leaving him time only to react with evasive dodging of two manic swings from the knife edge before countering with a crushing fist blow that left the attacker clutching his own broken and bloodied face on the floor in pain. The child remained huddled in a corner, scared but unharmed as Conrad ordered it to run. It obeyed only seconds before the wounded attacker recovered enough to pull out a firearm, firing directly at Conrad but not before Conrad himself simultaneously reacted and fired a lethal shot into the shooter’s head.
Even after catching a second bullet thru the ribcage that left him downed on the floor yet barely breathing in a motionless state, the sideway vision caught shoe-fitted feet belonging to the former captive stop briefly to examine his condition before running out the way it had been led. Safety was confirmed upon returning with the protective company of local law enforcement who took immediate note of the wounded but still breathing hero. Though limited in vision from the immobile state, Conrad felt himself being carried out on a stretcher, driven to the local hospital in an ambulance, and laid unto a sheet-draped bed with life support technology that would disinfect the wound and allow it to gradually heal. Though the senses remained periodically blurry, he overheard the vibration of nearby clinic personnel voices describing the severity of the attack dealt. They acknowledged not only his own heroic deed with the child now returned to family security, but additionally confirming he would not be the only subject to briefly recover.
Knowing the prime basis behind the phenomena experienced beforehand and how it effectively guided him left a comforting note they were talking about Kyra. With the aurora of triumphing over a grisly ordeal - like he had “crossed the rubicon” himself - recurred a familiar notion reminding that the best was still yet to come.
Thanks for taking the time to read.
The ever-darkening world seemed to endure forever, feeding off whatever petty cynical neuroses from egoist personalities - which had to be vigilantly repelled day in day out - seemed to dictate. For Conrad, the futility in general never lifted and became more real every day like a mantra that would never cease. Remaining grounded to comprehend did little to quell the intangible yet imminent danger looming anywhere public. Whether on the street or hitching a bus ride, he rarely felt a genuine sense of security. In visual form, the fear could have been a myriad of invisible claws reaching from every conceivable direction, out of reach yet ever-threatening with deadly persuasion hiding intent to mislead.
With vigilant grace under pressure however, he figured himself more fortunate to hold the particular insight as opposed to the common others with no idea what lurked up the bend. The final night was a quiet farewell to this city he had grown overly familiar with and could not wait to depart from in the morning. It hit long ago, that the rest of the world in general had no hope to be saved.
-----
The northward climate in general had been much preferred over the former, now left behind. The environmental blend of modest population centers marked by sleek metallic buildings, surrounded by mountainous dynamic landscapes of pine tree stretches under an unpolluted blue sky with greater opportunities for desired reclusion felt more natural to him. However it was not the only factor that made the move convenient in general.
Kyra worked a well-paying job as a room attendant in an industrious hotel complex. She had already adjusted well to her new life, much to the relief of her former caretakers. A former mental patient, she had suffered horrid abuse from manipulation by fickle strangers acting as friends, which left a dire mark on her ability to maintain. To their relief, she learned faster than predicted to repel such odious phases of manic spontaneous impulse - the dis-ease, they called it - over time through differing yet elaborate audio therapy that had a miraculously calming effect. Upon reaching full recovery, they released her with a regained opportunity to lead a normal life, like she had “crossed the rubicon” through unbearable psychological torment only to emerge triumphant through gates leading beyond. The clinic responsible was not a “mental hospital” in the common sense, but more of a home for particularly bizarre oddities - whether physical or behavioral - to get more proper treatment that was not harmful or abusive for which other hospitals held notoriety in conduct. Getting to meet strangeness never known or understood to the public and uncovering effective remedies to ease life in a benevolent manner for any afflicted subject made his daily job at the clinic pay off more than anticipated. Having the travel distance reduced to walking range already seemed in that regard like a positive sign.
She held a strong passion for making art. The surreal characters Conrad watched her draw with pencil and ink struck a unique chord that betrayed repeated leaning toward the notion of such being “childish” for him. However as luck had it, Kyra had a persuasive yet benevolent charm in her persona that encouraged him to unlock and overcome unknown defense mechanisms embedded within untouched regions of the psyche. Conrad had outgrown a more rebellious attitude of skepticism adopted during adolescence, with the latter half lingering more. She always ushered him to love himself first, though only half the time it proved a more easy than strenuous task on his own. “Any day can be the last in your life,” she said. “Make each day unforgettable.”
Having another light in his own life proved vital. From personal experience, Conrad knew better than anyone that being alone left only a dark and empty road lying ahead. Most public areas in general made him feel nervous like wandering through a concrete ocean of futility. Civilians who lacked decent mannerisms in general were never favorable company, but he shrugged it off every time. Every day in the forgone city he would momentarily overhear a random passerby obnoxiously chatting with a dim-witted acquaintance regarding overblown specifics to a far-fetched and ludicrous theory revolving around a particular video game franchise. The vocal tone and character reeked of sleazy, almost cult-like vibes indicating the type he wanted nowhere near himself or Kyra.
Had anyone inquired as to how a line-shaped scar once visible down the left side of his face - appearing like the inflictor nearly took out the eye directly above - came to be, he gave a brief story regarding an armed intruder breaking into the home at night. Neither he nor clinic familiars wanted to risk stirring any falsehood-driven rumors regarding the real triggers for Kyra's phases of violent savagery that resulted from the dis-ease. They knew it was no fault of her own.
-----
Sid had a persistent history of reckless behavior, whether making insulting posts on social media pages or getting involved in controversial political activity. One night at a bar during a visit, he even attempted to stir up dangerously provocative subject matter, to which Conrad refrained from contributing in public for not wanting to attract unwanted nearby attention. He knew too much regarding the shady dealings of the political underworld to get entangled in their petty and manipulative struggles, and learned to keep a safe distance. Yet he held onto the notion of the long-time friend being misguided to a degree and harboring unrealized potential that would allow prosperity in a more favorable pursuit. Hoping that time would bend to the advantage, he figured a visit had been long overdue. It proved sheer convenience Sid lived only a matter of blocks from Kyra.
The plan became suddenly null with the rotating glare of red light from local police cars parked in front of the designated house with yellow tape blocking public entry, indicating the occurrence of a homicide. Conrad was about to inform Kyra when suddenly he got a report of gunshots being heard back at the hotel that employed her. Then a horrifying revelation hit, indicating the house incident being only a diversion by the instigator to render their real target more vulnerable.
Upon reaching the hotel, it then proved the fatal attack - leaving her in a severely wounded and immobilized state - was a retaliation from a depraved and illicit black market ring after one of their own dealers got recently kicked out from the complex and busted by the local law. The capture in turn brought down a connection within their corrupt trade. On the verge of every trace of hope vanishing, within seconds Conrad felt a strange aura coil around his own living vessel - like a fortuitous last resort triggered by the magnitude of the grim condition - announced by a chill from beneath the skin. He made no attempt to resist, immediately recognizing and having been warned by a vast knowledge source back at the clinic regarding negative effects of the horrific and inexplicable specialty if not “channeled” properly. Now it proved the only definite chance to identify the trail of the guilty party and corner them before they got away.
Once it finally settled like a psychedelic hallucinogen, not even a mere threat to inflict the most ruthless laceration possible could overthrow the after-effect of heightened sensory capacity. It pinpointed the thin outline of foot prints left by the culprit, leading out the front door and into the former parking spot of a now-departed getaway car. Even the tire tracks became viewable while he engaged steady pursuit on foot with a tranquil intuition not rushed nor sudden, following their trail on the road from the sidewalk. To unsuspecting outsiders, he was on an average nightly walk.
-----
The following led to an abandoned structure bordering the countryside that once served as a community center. A greater prediction of dread began to evolve with descending to a basement floor, following the foot path to a crumbling bookshelf which he pushed aside to unveil a hidden passageway leading downward. Given the notion that no one ever came to the desolate outpost anymore, it was scary enough to ponder how much trouble got made by the very scheme - which would vilify the otherwise intriguing history behind the building itself - he now feared to encounter.
With further pacing, venomous energies seemed to form out of focus as intangible toxic “trails” of pitch-black fog, infected with the most salacious and vice-ridden intent. They and their vision were ignored to the point of catching a glimpse of scattered photocopied drawings not unlike those which Kyra would passionately draw, and the utterly foul treatment stained unto by their abusers. A brief stint of miasma hit at the crippling acknowledgement of horrific fact as to how a seemingly juvenile mockery done unto any piece of paper - so deeply part of an individual being on a metaphysical level than the original maker might fathom - went a frighteningly long way in tampering with the owners’ psychological structure. It occurred on a dangerously subtle yet life-threatening degree, often before the victim had a chance to identify it. Such proved to be the root cause of the dis-ease that plagued Kyra for a long time. Why it took so long to find out where their casters were hiding would have to wait.
With clinging to the hope for Kyra’s survival, the commitment undertaken felt nothing like a petty motive of revenge now. He and clinic familiars were fully aware of the invisible and enormously horrific wave of influence exercised by the outlawed cult to which the culprits and their trade ring acted on behalf. Even if he failed to completely embrace himself, at least the safety of more fortunate lives would be ensured. Miraculously enough, he suffered no loss of intuition, remaining intact with every silent footfall vibration felt only to him. For the targeted then grew within earshot from around the nearing corner. They seemed to be speaking to a child with patronizing word intending to seduce the naive. When Conrad got an idea of what they implied, it revived terrible certainty bearing chilling resemblance to what had been captured in a traumatic childhood nightmare. One so terrifyingly believable that it raised his suspicion regarding how “normal” society really functioned the more he looked at people in general ever since.
Contrary to the harrowing outcome witnessed in the horrid dream years gone, a potential repeat became aborted with effortless aim around the corner, followed by accurate open fire on the first culprit in range. It brought instant death in front of the accomplice and the kidnapped, who backed away from the other with growing awareness it had been lured into a deceptive trap. The sickly antagonist held a crude blade in hand with which it lunged at Conrad, leaving him time only to react with evasive dodging of two manic swings from the knife edge before countering with a crushing fist blow that left the attacker clutching his own broken and bloodied face on the floor in pain. The child remained huddled in a corner, scared but unharmed as Conrad ordered it to run. It obeyed only seconds before the wounded attacker recovered enough to pull out a firearm, firing directly at Conrad but not before Conrad himself simultaneously reacted and fired a lethal shot into the shooter’s head.
Even after catching a second bullet thru the ribcage that left him downed on the floor yet barely breathing in a motionless state, the sideway vision caught shoe-fitted feet belonging to the former captive stop briefly to examine his condition before running out the way it had been led. Safety was confirmed upon returning with the protective company of local law enforcement who took immediate note of the wounded but still breathing hero. Though limited in vision from the immobile state, Conrad felt himself being carried out on a stretcher, driven to the local hospital in an ambulance, and laid unto a sheet-draped bed with life support technology that would disinfect the wound and allow it to gradually heal. Though the senses remained periodically blurry, he overheard the vibration of nearby clinic personnel voices describing the severity of the attack dealt. They acknowledged not only his own heroic deed with the child now returned to family security, but additionally confirming he would not be the only subject to briefly recover.
Knowing the prime basis behind the phenomena experienced beforehand and how it effectively guided him left a comforting note they were talking about Kyra. With the aurora of triumphing over a grisly ordeal - like he had “crossed the rubicon” himself - recurred a familiar notion reminding that the best was still yet to come.