Quintessential Mutterings In The Sonosphere

Below is the first chapter from my crime drama fantasy. I have adapted this from the scripts I have been trying to complete since last year. I am currently on Episode 5 at the moment but it has been a struggle to complete. Hopefully, by the time I reach Episode 5 here, I will have finally completed the story. Hope you enjoy it!

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Where does it all end, in the thunder and the rain that smothered the village of Little Dursley? This rain was the beginning of a spontaneous storm; apparently, it was supposed to be tame with a slight breeze. With this storm, the people of Little Dursley were conflicted. The village comprised mostly of a large farming community, primarily focused on the production of wheat and barley. With this rain, the soil would be fed, and very fortunately, the crops were collected that afternoon. This rain, however, would delay the next round of seeding by at least a week, with the soil being flooded. With that knowledge, where else to drown the sorrows than at the local watering hole, The Black Horse.

The Black Horse had stood for many a generation. The fathers of the fathers of the fathers of the locals were accustomed to The Black Horse’s comfort and the safe haven that had been built throughout its existence. Albeit a small pub with no garden and only a couple of opaque windows, the venue had heart and life. The same could not be said for the Landlord.

Basil Chalkley was not a local; he was not descended from the livestock. Basil was actually a Londoner; Islington, to be precise. While he had been to many a pub before and dined on the tipples they had to offer and understood the functionality of a pub, he had never thought of being in charge of one. In fact, the idea of having his own would’ve been a dreaded thought in the past. The prospect of working in a hospitable position where he would have to listen to the bullshit tales and have to interact with the people who told them from where he had previously been employed was at first daunting. But as the years went on, Basil began to enjoy his time at The Black Horse. Of course, some nights would be rather challenging, and this night was no exception. With the knowledge that the farmers who drenched themselves with ale and cider would be hesitant to leave due to the knowledge that the rain would cancel any work for the rest of the week, Basil had to make sure the pub closed when it was supposed to. Firstly, to adhere to licensing laws that were set at 11 o’clock, and lastly, so he would not run out of supplies for the following day.

With the clock about to hit 11, Basil went to go and ring the bell to signify the last orders. The people at the bar stared at Basil as he made the walk to the bell. Their stares were not those of anger but rather those of a beggar. Before Basil rang the bell, one of the staring folk intervened. “Basil, come on now, can we not stay here for longer? It’s not like there is any work tomorrow”. Another member of the contingent intervened, “Yeah, have you seen the weather out there? You can’t send us out in that”. Basil, however, was having none of the pleas from the folk and rang the bell to signify closure. He responded bluntly, “You might not have any work tomorrow, but I do, and I understand the weather is bad, but you all had no issues walking here in the rain, so why now do you?”. With this response, the folk knew they weren’t getting another drink; they had been conditioned to Basil’s staunch stance on closing times. The people started to leave in clusters until the pub was empty.

Basil poured himself a glass of whisky and took a moment to reflect. As he did, there came a knocking at the door. Basil at first ignored the knock, believing that this will drive the knocker away. The knocks persist, and it’s the persistence that got a response from Basil. “We’re closed, come back in the morning”. Even this does not stop the knocking, and now Basil is concerned. Pulling from under the bar a baseball bat, Basil headed over to the door armed. Near the door, Basil questioned the knocker, “Now this better not be a joke or anything, who are you?”. Suddenly, a wheeze came from the other side of the door, the sound of a call for help. It’s at this moment, Basil decided to open the front door and await the fate lurking behind it. There on the floor, Basil saw an injured man with a wound around his stomach. The blood was pouring from the wound and flooding the steps outside the pub. Basil looked at the wounded man’s face and gets the greatest shock. “John?”

John used to work with Basil before Basil ever took tenancy in the Black Horse. Together, they were a part of the government organisation of DOMRAC, the Department of Mythical, Radical and Archaic Citizens. Within their job, it was their role to protect the lives of these citizens from discovery by humans while also maintaining law and order amongst the citizens and preventing crime. Basil and John were longstanding members of DOMRAC up until 1995, when the department had a massive overhaul in its staff after an incident involving a radical group of vampires titled The Bloodless, led by the deranged Georgious Mariakas. With Basil being involved in the case, he was ordered to go into hiding by his superiors and sent to the village of Little Dursley for his protection. Even after thirty years, it seemed Basil could still not forget the events of then as he looked in horror at John’s bleeding body.

Basil dragged John’s body onto the carpets of the Black Horse, brought a towel from behind the bar and applied pressure to the wound. “John, what happened? Speak to me, John, why are you here?” With more strength in his voice, John responded, “I needed…I needed to find you, Basil. They have returned.” Basil, not wanting to return to life he didn’t want to ask John, “Who the Bloodless?”. John looked at Basil with a telling look, indicating that Basil is correct. Basil further questioned John, sceptical, “So how did you find me, you know that I was supposed to remain hidden. I was cut off from the world I was once a part of, barring the occasional letter, of course. Do you know what one of the last ones I read was?”Basil pulled the bat from beside the door where he left it. John grew a sudden realisation that Basil iwas onto him. “It was an invite to your funeral seven years ago.”. John then turned and went to attack Basil, but his actions are pointless as Basil swung the bat and landed shots at John’s head and instantly killed him.

Basil immediately got some bin bags to cover John’s corpse. The blood would be harder to remove, but Basil just needed to get the body disposed of. The rain is still lashing it down outside, but there is no time to lose. This body had to go. Basil opened the front door and opened the boot of his Range Rover. He threw the body into the car and shut the lid, but as he looked down, he saw a red tinge to the water that was streaming down the drain. As he turns to look behind, he could see the dead bodies of those he had just served a half an hour ago, who begged him to keep the pub open. Basil now knew that danger is afoot; he must get his essentials and leave Little Dursley.

Basil ran back into the pub and ran to the back and up the stairs to grab some money before he set off. Before he can run up the stairs, he heard a cry coming from the cellar below. He didn’t realise that this could be another ploy to capture him; he just didn’t want any more death to come this night. Armed with the bat and torch, Basil headed down to the cellar. Checking every corner, he saw no threat, but the cry is getting more audible. Basil turned to the beer crates and noticed a shadow from behind them. “Come out, I’m not one of them. You are safe here”. Arising from the beer crates is Charlotte, a young girl who works for Basil behind the bar. She had finished work at 10, and Basil saw her leave. Charlotte came to Basil and cried, “Who are they, Basil? They killed my mum…my sister”. Basil consoled Charlotte, “Look, Charlotte, we need to get out of here now. They are coming after me”. Who are you?” responded the tearful Charlotte. Basil responded, “The Blood…”. Basil’s eye has caught another shadow from behind the beer crates, that of someone lying down. With a closer look, he saw a shoe, the same type of shoe that Charlotte is wearing. A knife is stabbed into Basil’s gut by the impostor Charlotte. From the stairs came the rest of the assailants, looking to hunt down Basil. They are all gathered around his bleeding, dying corpse as Charlotte began to speak for the group, “He will rise, and those in the way will die. Mariakas will make this world our own; he will ascend and rise to his throne. Mariakas will not be stopped, nor his brotherhood. Off we shall go together and destroy Ebenezer Goode.”

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In next week’s chapter, we will join Ebenezer Goode and understand why he is such a threat to the Bloodless. Until then, I hope you all have a great day and see you next time.