Quick one chaps! Just wanted to say thanks to everyone who has commented and read and favourited... I was amazed really :) I hope you carry on enjoying it
So the two men were stood, looking upon the box. Alfred was brimming with something of an disturbing anticipation, Charles with a sense of dread. He sensed an unusually heavy atmosphere around the box, he couldn't help but feel something of a cautionary tale springing to his mind… something a kin to Pandora's Box. The box, which had seemed so innocent, now carried a horrible sense of foreboding. He was more perturbed at how the young American had opened the box with such ease, as if his mere touch had caused it to unlock.
"Well… Mister Jones… I really must have that back now… it is going to auction tomorrow." He said, trying to sound fairly upbeat, however, his voice betrayed him as it quivered with apprehension.
"Come on Charlie boy! Where is your sense of adventure?" Alfred said, in a seemingly joking fashion, but there was a great deal of desperation behind his cheerful demeanour. A change had occurred in Alfred, rather than concerning himself about his documentary, all he could think of now was the box. As if the moment he set eyes on it, it had polluted all of his thoughts… poisoned his mind. He could sense the malicious atmosphere as well… possibly better than Charles could, but he could not ignore the pull of whatever was inside, he had to see it. After all what on earth could cause such a feeling?
"Let's just… have a peak." He said quietly as the lid creaked open.
And as it opened, they both gasped. Inside this box… was a dagger, a beautiful bejewelled dagger, The hilt encrusted with diamonds and rubies and sapphires…yet the silver blade was filled with markings that neither Charles of Alfred could understand, it was an item of indulgence, of long algo, Alfred immediately took it in his hand, as if his elbow was spring loaded, he did it with such lightening speed that Charles was shocked.
"Mister Jones!-" he exclaimed, his voice filled with horror. "That is a rare artefact… put it down this instant!"
As Alfred held the dagger his hand cramped around the hilt and his arm became stiff, it was an unnatural reaction… even Charles could see that. "I-I-I can't!" Alfred gasped, desperately trying to struggle with himself. His grip became tighter and tighter… against Alfred's will, his fingers simply tightened, as if his hand was being controlled by something else. He could feel something inside the dagger, it was almost a consciousness, a vague voice… that he could now hear in his own mind. It wasn't words as such, but thoughts… emotions … there was very little coherence, but definitely some… primal feeling there. As Alfred held it, his hand began to become cooler and cooler… until he could no longer bear holding it. He gasped aloud. "Jesus Christ…what the hell is going on?"
"Mister Jones? Are you alright?" he exclaimed worriedly, unable to bring himself to help, paralysed in shock.
"AH!" With a shout, Alfred managed to pry his hand off the item, as he did, he saw a black mark form on his hand, he tried to rub it off, yet it made little difference, it was like some form of symbol, maybe even a pattern. He wasn't concerned with that for the time being and his focus went back to the blade, which Charles was reaching for. "DON'T TOUCH IT!" Alfred cried out, taking off his jacket quickly and putting it around the dagger, and again…he held it tightly, gripping on it unnaturally… even though he had just gone to such pains to let go of it… what on earth was this thing and why did Alfred keep picking it up despite himself?
"What happened?" Charles exclaimed breathlessly, it was obvious that the many had little excitement in his life. He bent over slightly to try and recover his breath.
"I don't know… I couldn't… take my hand off it…" Alfred's expression was knit with apprehension, the excitement had left him and he was now fretting that he should never have opened the box in the first place, he felt his free hand shaking… yet the other was completely still and calm. He was frightened, which was something of a rarity for him. "It just seems to… want to be in my hand…"
"…I…" Charles became overcome with emotion, he became breathless. "I can't sell this… thing… it… feels so evil…" he wheezed. "I don't want 'X' or anyone for that matter to have an item like this… I've never seen anything like it before." He looked desperately at Alfred, his eyes wide with fear. "You can open it! You should take this box! Take it! I don't want it anymore!" he took the box which he had originally taken such care of and was stuffing it into Alfred's rucksack which was left open on the floor. "You've got the dagger… it obviously it meant to be with you!"
"I don't want it either!" Alfred cried out in fear. "You know what? Give it to Mister X! I don't care! I'm out of here!" Alfred said, but… he realized he couldn't take his hand off the dagger, which he'd wrapped in his coat… he could barely move at all. Suddenly his urgency faded, he felt his head lull forward and he became alarmingly despondent.
Francis, strolled back in, having missed all the commotion with the coffee in his hand. From the face of the situation it looked like he hadn't missed anything, both men were stood completely still.
"Wow." Francis said flatly. "I see… is this the item in question?" Francis hinted at Alfred who had the coat wrapped around the item. "Now come on Alfred… give it back…"
He then looked at Alfred's lack lustre posture and Charles' shaking body.
"''As something happened that I've missed?" Francis enquired drolly, taking a sip from the coffee cup. He then took note of Alfred's stiffness, it was nothing short of abnormal for the American to be so still, he immediately put the coffee on the table and tried to shake Alfred by the shoulders. "What's the matter Alfred?" He looked into Alfred's eyes, trying to make him talk.
"I've done something really bad Francis… something really stupid…" Alfred's voice was unusually quiet, he sounded more like his brother, it was barely above a whisper. Francis then took note in the change of ambience in the room, when Francis left it had been full of excitement and intrigue, it was now an unsettling air, with an odd sense of doom.
"What 'appened?" Francis implored to Charles, who also seemed stunned into silence.
"You two leave! Leave at once!" Charles muttered, his voice shaking like a leaf, he walked to the door unsteadily and opened it widely. "And take that cursed box with you! It's in the backpack!" he insisted.
"Alright alright!" Francis said, forcing Alfred out of the room, and taking his rucksack on his back. "Wait…I thought you were in love with this thing a minute ago!"
"GET OUT!" Charles yelled, his voice full of fear and horror. He slammed the door so much that the whole corridor echoed.
"But isn't this meant to be in the auction tomorrow?" Francis rebuked, knocking on the door. He was unable to understand the illogical course of action that was taking place, perhaps he had gone and got his cup of coffee at precisely the wrong moment.
"OUT!" Charles squealed through the door, only just short of hyperventilating.
Francis heaved the body of the young American, who seemed to be dragging his feet along the floor, Francis couldn't see anything that would suggest he was in great pain.
"What is the matter with you?" he added furiously, shaking Alfred by the shoulders, as he was acting in such a catatonic fashion that it caused Francis to become even more annoyed. "I thought we were going to look at this item, not buying it? What did you do, buy it off him?... You led me here under false pretences!" he added shrilly. "I thought I was going to film a masterpiece… but this whole expedition has turned into a disasterpiece!"
Alfred was almost unable to speak. With his free hand he clutched at his head tightly, at first he seemed to be grinding his teeth, it was clear that he was in some form of pain, but what was wrong with him, Francis couldn't determine. Suddenly, a short gasp left his mouth and then Alfred's head fell slowly there was a short pause.
"What is it?" Francis snapped, "Stop gasping and talk to me!" Francis prepared to slap Alfred across the face to snap him out of his daze. But slowly, Alfred lifted his head again. Francis could barely see his expression, he could just see his eyes… glaring forward. Francis sensed something very alien… and unusual in Alfred, something he couldn't identify. This frightened him, he continued with his slap but in the same instant, Alfred grasped Francis before he could even get close to his face. "I…need… to go outside…" he croaked slowly, his voice sounded unusually dark and heavy.
"What?" Francis said, dumbstruck by Alfred's lightening speed reaction.
"I…need… to go… outside." He repeated, his voice rasped.
Alfred shrugged off Francis immediately, he apparently didn't need his support anymore. Francis was startled at how quickly Alfred's demeanour had changed. Just moments before the man could hardly walk on his own, now he was staggering out of the building like some crazed brute, not wanting any help.
As they went out into the corridor, Francis finally noticed the detail... the small item that may have explained this odd change in behaviour "Alfred… Is that… something in your hand?" he enquired warily, noticing the change in Alfred's behaviour.
Alfred didn't answer, he merely staggered to the door of the building and glowered angrily.
Francis couldn't understand what had caused such an emotional metamorphosis… Alfred was acting like a man possessed. Francis was scared now. Alfred was usually so pleasant and joyful ,to see him with such an eerie presence around him was almost too much for Francis to bear. A wild resolve took over Francis, he made a bolt to Alfred, smacking him across the head. It was as if a higher power had urged him on… telling him this was the right thing to do, as if he had to stop Alfred from going outside in that state.
It must have been the timing and speed of the blow that caused Alfred to topple over, but rather than merely startle him, Alfred was out for the count, completely lifeless. Francis kicked his body gentle (and gentle is a synonym for weak in this instance)… he was out cold. Francis smiled… obviously his strength must have knocked him out.
…
Or alternatively… the sheer surprise of Francis successfully attacking anyone was enough to knock them out cold. But the young American had toppled over so easily… it seemed a little too simple. Francis knew Alfred was a strong, stocky type. Surely such a weak blow to head wouldn't be enough to knock him out?
But sure enough it had. As Francis went to pick up Alfred's body from the floor he looked at the item wrapped in the cloth… he sensed the terrible atmosphere surrounding it. But unlike Alfred, it hadn't attracted him… it appalled him. He felt as if he had felt the same presence before…somewhere else. All he knew was that it couldn't stay with him and Alfred, he had a sneaking suspicion that it was the cause of Alfred's odd behaviour. He picked the item up… and threw it in the bin, it was hardly an award winning solution to the problem, but at least it was hidden away... away from prying eyes… Francis carefully dragged Alfred down the road and once they had gotten far away from the dagger, tried to bring him around in a side street.
… But someone had seen the dagger being disposed of… and they, like Alfred… wanted the dagger too… and so it passed into another pair of hands.
"Get up-"
Alfred opened his eyes, a dull pain passed through his body and seemed to settle in his right arm, he heaved himself up to find himself inside his hotel room. It was an understated place, two single beds, a tiny bathroom and one chair and a built in wardrobe. The TV was small and seemed to be blurring out some boring British news.
"Sweet Jesus-" Alfred murmured to himself pained, grasping his arm. "How long was I out?"
"About 6 hours… I had to pretend you were drunk to get you in 'ere… everyone was convinced I'd beaten you up…or worse" Francis said and shuddered at the thought that him and Alfred would have done anything intimate… Alfred was definitely not his taste, he passed Alfred a cup of coffee. "'Ere… and don't you tell anyone… I don't want us to be on the internet, no?"
"Thanks... and don't worry… I don't want to be on the internet for sleeping with you either-" Alfred said slowly, the words seem to struggle to get out of his mouth, despite this, he didn't lack any of his nonexistent inhibitions and accidental rudeness. He felt like he was back to normal and his behaviour would certainly suggest it. "What the heck happened back there? I remember seeing that… that dagger… and then… my mind draws blank…" he looked into his coffee cup, troubled by his cloudy memory. Hoping that if he looked at something blank for long enough his memory would magically reappear.
"A Dagger? So that's what it was." Francis said, sounding surprisingly not angry. "… You 'ad it wrapped in a cloth but I 'ad no idea… Basically that Charles kicked us out of 'is office… and we were leaving, Your were acting strangely… And your body was all tense… I know… because I had a little feel- " Francis teased. "But it appears that is 'as made a mark on you…" Francis hinted towards Alfred's aching right arm.
"What the hell?" Alfred exclaimed bluntly, looking at the mark on his right hand which seemed to have grown, it was now passed his wrist and seemed to be very slowly crawling it's way up his arm. "What is this?"
"I don't know… but I 'ave a bad feeling that… dagger… was involved somehow…" Francis said, not sounding too alarmed. "but 'ow are you feeling?"
"My arm… it's really stiff… and my head… it's swimming… I can't get my thoughts straight… I kind of have this weird… I don't know… feeling… in my mind… but it feels really bad… like I don't want to think about it in case… I… I lose… myself…" Alfred said, he looked at Francis's quizzical and perturbed expression. "I don't want to scare you Francis… but I don't think it's natural…" Alfred stammered. "I think… it might be some kind of evil thing…"
"No, neither do I… now that we've established that between us-" he began drolly. "OF COURSE IT ISN'T NATURAL YOU HAVE A MARKING CRAWLLING UP YOUR ARM LIKE A DISEASE! WHAT KIND OF MORON DO YOU TAKE ME FOR ALFRED? MERDE!" He shouted angrily, instinctively taking out his cigarettes and lighting one as if this action alone would help soothe his nerves a little. "I 'ave no idea what it is! But I do know that you're so 'orrnedous at reading the atmosphere that you probably couldn't tell that it was something evil from the beginning!"
"Do you think there is a cure?" Alfred said, reluctant to make himself look like a total idiot. However, he failed at this quite miserably, as he was drinking his coffee like a small child, taking tiny sips at a time and sticking his tongue out. "Can I have some sugar?"
"Luckily I still 'ave the box… maybe if we ask 'im… 'e can tell us if it's something magical… it is 'is area of expertise…" Francis admonished, taking the coffee cup off Alfred. "So… come on… get your coat… we are going… because at the rate that's growing… we don't 'ave any time to waste."
"No! Come on Francis! Surely there's another way? Don't make me go and visit Arthur!" the American squealed, running to stand against the door, blocking Francis out.
"Shut up! We are going visiting 'im." Francis said simply, pulling Alfred out of the way and dragging him out of the door. "E's the only one who can 'elp you now-" Francis said condescendingly.
"I'd rather die." Alfred whimpered in a childish fashion.
"I think… dying would be the best you could 'ope for even if this curse took 'old of you." Francis added quietly, causing Alfred to bolt to a halt.
"What does a comment like that mean Francis?" Alfred said seriously, fear creeping into his voice, he had a sneaking suspicion that Francis knew more about this mark than he was letting on.
"I think… there are some things worse than death in the world of the occult…mon ami." Francis said, adding the last two words, gently, there was a clear sense of worry in the French man's demeanour, a sense of urgency that was not usually present in him, as if… he had no time to waste.