Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #13 April 2015 | Page 46

Her mouth opened wide and inhaled deeply, with a
sound like rushing wind. I waited for the exhale, but it
never came. Instead, a strange stillness came upon her.
It was like watching cement turn from tacky to set in
an instant. And at that same moment, it poured forth.
Not from one point, but from every inch of her. A cascade of diamonds, rushing forward as water through a
newly-burst dam. I had never seen anything so beautiful. I watched in awe as it swirled and coalesced,
rising ever upwards.
Then the machines around her started beeping in frenzy. I was pushed aside, scolded, as doctors and nurses
crashed through the curtain, barking orders, grabbing
instruments. I knew they were too late. I could see it.
The piece of her that was missing, the one they were
trying to put back with their jump leads and oxygen
masks. It circled overhead, paused for a brief second,
then vanished. It wasn’t coming back.
Since then I’ve seen hundreds of them. Each one is
unique, but you can divide them roughly into two
types. The first are like Majory’s. Shining, sparkling.
Some like glittering jewels, others like dappled sunlight, or vibrant fireworks. Then there are the others.
The dark ones. The ones that make me shudder to
behold. They don’t so much burst forth, as ooze out
like dripping pus. Sometimes they coil, and slink like
venomous serpents. Other times they bubble and drip.
The first time I saw a dark one I was polishing the
corridor outside the operating theatres, with one of
those great big buffing machines. It slunk under the
door, sludgy and viscous like black tar. Pulsing and
hissing, it came directly towards me, wrapping itself
around my feet. I kicked at it, and it shrank back, and
sunk through the floor. Later I overheard the doctors
talking to the police. Apparently it had belonged to a
guy who bled out on the surgeon’s table. His liver had
been punctured in a knife fight. By all accounts he’d
been the one that started it.
That was the day I realised I was more than just an observer. It was the way it had targeted me, coiled round
my legs, it wanted something from me. It knew what I
was, though I didn’t yet know myself.

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After that, I got to wondering. There must be a reason,
must be a purpose, for my new found sight. Next time
I saw one of the shiny ones, I didn’t just stand back
and watch. I held out my hand, wondered if it would
acknowledge me like the other one did. This one was
like a cloud of champagne. It bubbled, and danced,
and shone. It came to me. Tentatively at first. It edged
ever nearer, its colours shifting through the spectrum
as it brushed my skin like a morning breeze, before
settling in my open palm. I stared for a long minute
at the impossible wonder in my grasp. What was I to
do with it? I grabbed a specimen jar from the supply
trolley nearby, very undignified but needs must, and
unscrewed the lid.
“Do you want to come with me?” I whispered to
the ball of light. It surged forward, filling the jar. I
screwed the lid on, and put it in my pocket. I had no
idea what I was supposed to do with it, but I knew the
answer would come, it always does.
It was later that night, as I walked home, that the Lord
revealed to me my mission. I heard the screams coming from the alley behind the old boarded-up butcher’s
shop. A female. She was in trouble. I raced down the
gravel track, brambles ripping at my overalls, and saw
her. A young woman, trembling, cowering in the bushes. A dark figure looming over her, knife in hand.
“Get away from her!” I shouted, and he turned to face
me, lunging forward in an instant, his knife aimed
at my chest. The girl was a quick-thinker, very impressive given the circumstances, and thrust out one
stiletto-clad foot. The guy tripped, hitting a tree trunk
on the way down, knocking himself out cold. The girl
scrambled to her feet, and fled shouting “thank you!”
over her shoulder as she disappeared. I called out to
her, tried to get her to stay, to give a report to the police, but she was gone.
I guess I can’t blame her, she’d already been trapped
in an alley with one strange guy, her panic responses
must have been ramped up. The guy at my feet started
to groan, I picked up the dropped knife. I was going
to pull it on him, keep him there ‘til the police arrived.
I’d fished out my mobile phone and dialled the first
“9” when a notion hit me, and I changed my mind.