The Final Nail In The Coffin

[Unpublished]

Each time I entered the workshop I was immediately awed by Walter's presence. His stone-cold eyes would stare my way, as though I were the strange one and not he. His flesh was the colour of the moon, and he radiated a certain wisdom and confidence. I guessed that within that weird mind of his there contained all the answers to the mysteries of the world and the universe. An iciness existed in the perpetual gloom of that place of work, as if a dozen graves had been opened and the horrible coldness within had been exposed to that room. Yet the most terrible spectacle lay beyond the window of that confined space, and I began to dream a different nightmare once Walter had introduced me to the Blackworld.
"There's been another murder," he told me on that particular morning, mere seconds following my frightened entrance into his workshop.
Walter appeared to revel in such ghastliness, and I noticed a grisly dribble of saliva hanging from his lower lip. I ought to have been grateful to the old man, and indeed I was in a certain fashion, for he had offered me a place to stay in return for assisting him in his work. It was a freezing cold box room in the attic, crawling with spiders and covered in thick webs and blankets of dust. A single bare mattress lay upon the floorboards, and the only light was supplied by two large candles. The coldness of that place led me to believe that I was dwelling in some kind of frosty hell, and I experienced nightmares aplenty on the occasions that I did manage to drift into an uneasy slumber. Indeed, I often wished that I could sleep inside one of those coffins that Walter produced in abundance.
He was a man of few words, and when an utterance did emerge from behind those blue-black lips it was normally of a morbid nature. Walter seemed to be unnervingly obsessed by all things sinister and devilish, all things concerned with death itself. A dark silence cloaked that gloomy workroom, save for the incessant banging sounds of nails being hammered into oak. One thing was for certain, however -- the man was filled with such strangeness that I considered him to be tainted by evil itself.
During my brief sojourn of rest between sawing wood with the bluntest of instruments, I was compelled to listen to Walter's description of the latest gruesome killing. It had occurred during the twilight hours, and he seemed to gain a bizarre satisfaction from relating the event in the most graphic detail. I was aware that he had merely learnt all of this from the newspaper that lay half-covered by wood shavings on the nearby bench. I believed him, for I thought that not even his feverish mind could invent such acts of unparalleled savagery.
We resumed our employ, and during the remainder of the afternoon a creeping quietness prevailed between us as we continued in the manufacture of those coffins. Before I became acquainted with Walter I existed as an urchin of the streets, seeking shelter in any place I could discover, and scraping for the smallest morsels of food and water. Many times I suffered terribly from a severe lack of nourishment, and often I imagined I would actually kill in order to quell my insatiable hunger. The flesh and meat of humankind became sorely tempting, and I feared that in time I would transform into some awful bloodthirsty creature of the night.
Then Walter discovered me one evening as I was in the process of scraping my blackened fingernails against the dirt-encrusted glass of his basement window. My mind was so disturbed that I actually believed that I could penetrate that window in that manner. At once I felt chilled and repelled by his appearance, thinking him to be a kind of demon-creature, spawned from the loins of monsters and devils. Time taught me to appreciate his kindness in offering me work and a place to rest my aching form, yet the whole time I was dismayed by his strange habits and his unnerving demeanour.
On this afternoon in question, Walter had spoken of the latest atrocious murder with a gibbering madness in his voice and with eyes glaring wildly. He appeared to morbidly relish the deeds of blood which had taken place upon the cobbled streets of our local vicinity. I myself was aghast, and shocked both by the grotesque and vicious slayings and my employer's perverted and sickening attitude towards them.
I became so disgusted that I felt a dreadful nausea begin to sweep through me, with all the talk of blood and entrails and viscera, and I turned my head in order to avoid the inevitable eruption of vomit from within my trembling mouth. Thankfully this did not occur, but then my curiosity was awakened by the chained and padlocked doorway that lurked inside the gloom of that murky workshop. Strangely I had not spotted this previously, and that also served to confuse my mind. However, I then felt the detestable coldness of a chill, and noticed that Walter's threatening eyes were upon me, and haunting my every second. It was as if those eyes were speaking to me in a supernatural fashion, warning my thoughts not to dwell on that awesome and mysterious locked exit.
It was after this conversation, and Walter's discovery of me looking at the menacing door, that he decided to scare me half to death by forcing me to witness that heinous Blackworld. He began by inviting me to accompany him to the window. The glass aperture concerned was not of great size, and in fact was the sole contact we both had with the outside. Walter's workshop was situated in the cellar beneath his house, and our work was carried out in that near darkness, with only two large lanterns and the window providing light. It appeared to be a lazy, cold afternoon as we gazed out at those cobbled roads, but what happened next I found quite chilling and unexplainable, and I felt a horrendous quaking in my soul upon witnessing the fantastic sight.
It occurred so quickly, like a conjurer's trick, but far, far more dangerous and breathtaking. An awesome darkness descended upon the earth, as though an enormous shadow had cloaked itself over the entire planet. It was blacker and deeper than the most fabulous midnight, and a thousand times more frightening. I blinked, more than once, endeavouring to comprehend what had taken place before my very eyes, but the compelling fact could not be altered. It was as black as hell -- it was the absurd Blackworld.
"What does this mean?" I cried. "What has happened?"
"Do not despair, Matthew," said Walter, "this is the Blackworld. It is temporary. But only for the time being."
I did not understand his words, for my mind was spinning, and I was stunned and stricken with a fear of the unknown.
"What is this Blackworld?" I asked.
"Come outside and I will explain."
We ascended the stone steps that led from the cellar, and ventured into the intriguing darkness that enveloped the outside world. The inside of my head ached and throbbed -- I thought I was losing my mind. It seemed to be even darker beyond the threshold of Walter's home. I wondered what manner of evil had caused this unfathomable atrocity. It was totally beyond comprehension, and what was even more bizarre was the fact that no sounds could be heard. The Blackworld was a silent and forbidding place indeed.
"You wonder about the silence," said Walter, as though he had in some strange way read my thoughts, "well let me put your mind at ease."
My mind at ease? That was altogether impossible considering the horror that was all around me at that moment in time and space. I then watched as he lifted his arm, and with a half-clenched fist he swept his hand into the sky, as if reaching into the silence of the Blackworld. His arm came back, and he seemed to be holding a small fragment of that darkness in his palm.
"Listen," he told me in a hushed whisper, an insidious smile upon his ashen face.
I strained my ears, which was not necessary, for the sounds were most evident. From his hand there emanated a horrid series of murmurs and cries of pain and suffering, and I stood there spellbound by this mysterious happening. The Blackworld was proving to be the most hellish and fearful place in the universe, and I shuddered openly as the cries of grief continued.
"Enough of this," said Walter, and lifted his arm once again, as though casting the odd sounds back into the shadows. There was quietude once more, and we turned to make our way back into the house.
In some absurd way I was somewhat relieved to actually be in the company of Walter, despite his twisted mind and his unsettling presence. He appeared to be extremely knowledgeable in all matters, and if I were to find out the secrets regarding that abominable Blackworld he would be the one to enlighten me.
Soon after we entered the workshop the light returned, as swiftly as the darkness had arrived, and I felt an abundant relief upon witnessing this. Yet Walter's words reverberated within my brain.
It is temporary, he had told me. I started to ponder over this statement, and as if answering my thoughts the old man began to fully explain the wondrous event that was destined to occur in the not too distant future. An event that would change the lives of every single inhabitant upon this earth!
He told me that the darkness would arrive in one massive movement, sweeping over the planet, and the earth would merge with the night, the stars would be crushed out of existence, and the sun would be squashed by the everlasting blackness, exploding into trillions of insignificant speckles of invisible dust. The moon would also vanish, eaten by the horrible dark shadows, and following this drastic happening a naked evil would arrive to take over, an evil so terrible and sinful that every person upon the earth will be driven to a babbling madness and turned into quivering wrecks. The Blackworld would be one total mass of destructive evil -- it was Satan's sweet destiny!
With this baleful plan occupying my bewildered mind, we then found ourselves interrupted by a knocking on the door, the harsh sound travelling downwards from the floor above us. Walter made his way up the steps, and seconds later came back with the local undertaker in tow. His name was Cobb, and I had seen him on several occasions. This was understandable considering the nature of his and Walter's trades. From the conversation that ensued I discovered that Cobb required a coffin for the latest victim of the fiendish madman who plagued the local area at night time.
I learnt much from this discourse, and I became even more ill than before upon hearing of the ferocity of this latest murder. This was the fifth victim, and all of them had been prostitutes, ladies of the evening. Cobb explained that all the women had been slain by a villainous heathen, and that the fiend had taken great delight, it seems, in performing the most vicious and vile atrocities once he had sliced open their throats. I dare not repeat exactly what the undertaker revealed, for even to think of those awful deeds causes my soul to shiver terribly. Let it suffice that no ordinary man in his right mind could be capable of such savage acts of blood.
As Walter and Cobb spoke, I took the opportunity to once again observe the oddity of the padlocked door in the darkened corner of that room. My curiosity was aroused, as I gazed that way, and after some seconds I noticed that the old fellow had seen me. He glanced in my direction, and Cobb's words were lost to me at that precise moment, for Walter's eyes were truly the most mesmerising and wicked sight I could ever imagine.
Cobb left, and I was alone once more with my employer. He ought to have been in a jovial mood following the order of a coffin from the undertaker, yet he seemed keen to look upon me with a horrible disdain, as though I had committed some foul misgiving. I openly shuddered, and as he approached I expected some form of torture or retribution for daring to cast my gaze upon that doorway.
"You appear to be intrigued by these chains and this padlock," he said in a hissing tone, his words pouring from his mouth like stinking mist from a dense swampland.
I was then shocked to observe him produce a vast key from a chain around his neck, and he proceeded to unlock the door to that curious chamber. He slowly pulled the door aside, and immediately I was met by a queer odour, a rotten stench which caused me to retch viciously. It was blind cold beyond that door, and I realised that it led directly to the outside of the building. It was a tiny enclosure, surrounded on all sides by decrepit wooden fencing erected from mismatched timber. I followed Walter into this yard, and my boots sank into soft, dank soil. The whole of the area seemed to have been unearthed, and after further scrutiny I saw that a large hole had been dug close to the fence. A grave!
"What is this place?" I asked in a shaking voice. My heart was beating rapidly, and my throat had become quite dry.
"This is the place of punishment, Matthew," said Walter, and grinned the wild grin that he often displayed.
I was completely amazed, and courageously I ventured further into the yard. Standing close to the foul-smelling pit, I was horrified to find an open coffin lying approximately six feet beneath the earth's surface. Beside this grave was a large pile of dirt, and a hefty shovel close by. I looked at Walter, and feared the worst.
Surely he did not intend to bury me alive in that coffin?
"I must be punished," he said, and began to climb downwards into the dark hole. I was astounded, of course. This was preposterous!
"I should not have told you about the Blackworld," he continued, "such information is not for the ears of mortals. It is totally forbidden. And now I must pay."
He settled into the coffin, and I noticed how smugly his body fitted into that resting place. He then instructed me to toss the dirt over him. I was hesitant, for the whole performance I considered to be an elaborate masquerade. In his own inimitable style he was intent on frightening me, and once I reached for the shovel he would begin to laugh like a demon and clamber from within that makeshift grave. But this did not occur. It appeared that he was deadly serious, and that I was to indeed bury him alive as he had requested.
With a selfish relief I started to spade the soil back into the blackness of the pit, thinking rather him than me, for at first I had feared he would somehow force me into that hole and cover me with that dirt. I watched him gradually disappear, the dark covering causing him to vanish from view as I tossed the soil over him. He was alive -- but I found myself not thinking of this. Strangely I began to experience a feeling of weirdness, as though I were there for this purpose, and that I was fulfilling some kind of deep destiny. It was as if my mind and my actions were somehow being controlled by a hideous entity -- a force from another world.
And then the misdeed was done, and Walter was gone. Buried with the worms and the creeping insects. Yet still I did not realise the true implication of what I had done. I seemed to be in some kind of trance, my mind had drifted to some other corner of space and time. An odd chill surrounded me, and the awful smell prevailed, and I then discerned the arrival of a maddening darkness, a huge blanket of blackness that stretched far and wide. My eyes were not deceiving me -- yes, it was the Blackworld!
I stared into the darkness for what seemed like an eternity, completely taken in and beguiled by its bewitching terror. I could not hear a sound, not even the haunting cries that Walter had pulled from out of the silence, and nor could I smell the foetid odour of that small yard. It was as though time had ended, and all manner of sight and sound had ceased to be. I then recalled Walter's words again -- the earth will merge with the night.
Was this the monstrous event he had predicted? In my mind I thought so, but then suddenly the darkness lifted as before, and I became surrounded by brightness, causing me to squint and blink awfully.
I was not sure of how much time had passed as I slowly regained my senses. At first I was unable to comprehend where I was and how I had got there, how I came to be standing in that dirt-filled enclosure, in the midst of that gut-wrenching stink. The sounds of the outside world returned, and an almighty feeling of utter relief swept through me. The Blackworld had entranced me and captured me in its evil spirit, but now I was free from its power, and able to think rationally. And it was as I was doing this that I realised exactly what I had done -- I had buried Walter in that stinking grave!
My mood changed to desperation and panic, and I raced over to the shovel and began to frantically spade the loose soil from out of that ungodly pit. My efforts were swift, but not as swift as I would have liked them to be. I imagined him lying under that covering of dirt, having taken in his last breath, his face a horrible mask of death. I knew he had enticed me into committing the foul atrocity, but I ought to have been strong, and refused to comply to his unnatural request. No man deserved a punishment such as this!
Once I spotted the whiteness of his still body, I tossed the shovel over my shoulder and started to urgently scrape and claw the remainder of the soil from off him, my fingernails becoming blacker and dirtier as the seconds passed quickly. His face was as pale as a ghost, his features grim and solemn. He was staring into space, the unholiness of his eyes seemingly transfixed upon the cold light of that crazy afternoon. I searched for a heartbeat, a pulse -- and found none.
I was then filled with a gloom and desperation which I am certain no man had ever suffered before. The wretched figure of Walter lay in front of me, his dead flesh freezing to the touch. I began to sob, I was so taken by the scene, so heartbroken by the horrid deed I had performed. However, my tears soon ceased, and I was overcome by a different terror, for I then witnessed Walter's arm rising from his side and his cold hand touching my cheek. I should have considered this an altogether improbable act, but I was just too numb to think.
"Why have you unearthed me, Matthew?" he said.
Yes, he actually spoke! Horror of all horrors -- this could only be a terrific nightmare, I thought. Yet I could not remember going to sleep.
I remained rigid, as though it were myself who had been claimed by death. My vocal powers had disappeared, at least for the time being, stolen from me due to the trauma of what had taken place. I opened my mouth, attempting to breath, and reached for my own heart in order to detect a beat, if only to reassure myself that I was not deceased, a walking zombie. Walter sat up in the coffin, grabbing a hold of my trembling form for leverage, rancid earth falling from him as he performed this task.
"Are you shocked?" he asked, and I nodded.
He then went on to reveal to me that he was indeed not of the living, and that this had been so for close on sixty years. I was totally amazed by this revelation, yet still I stayed in a state of shaking panic and shock. How could such a thing be so? He also told me that he had seen things that were unseen by mankind, heard things that were unheard, and that he had travelled at length through the darkened labyrinth of the afterlife. These words appeared to merely float by me on an ethereal plain, I was so thunderstruck by the shocking transpirations of the afternoon.
Walter asked me to help him out of the foetid pit, which I did so, and we both sat side by side upon that soft earth. He had been buried for such a long time, surely he ought to have been dead -- surely he ought to have been dreaming only of darkness. Surely he ought not to have been alive!
"Perhaps this is not my time after all," he muttered, not breathing one single breath, "perhaps my punishment has been reserved for another time.”
He then turned my way and looked into my eyes. Never before had I felt such a shivering fear than at that precise moment, I could practically feel the wickedness of the man as he gazed in my direction.
"I believe it is your time, Matthew," he said. "It is your time to be punished."
He then nodded towards the open grave, and a terrible chill filled my aching heart. To my complete horror I realised the implications of his words. He wanted to bury me alive in that horrible pit!
I was having none of it, and proceeded to flee from that ghastly yard and into the house. His awful words pursued me, filling me with a dreadful foreboding and succeeding in tearing my sanity to shreds.
"Your mind is tainted!" he cried after me. "You must be punished!"
It was like a nightmare that refused to go away. Walter was proving to be the sinful creature that I always suspected he was, and he was destroying my beleaguered soul with his words and actions. Christ in Heaven -- he was a dead man! And always had been, so he claimed. How could such a thing be so? And was he the only one? There must have been others. Perhaps there were lots of them. Maybe I was one -- maybe I was dead too!
I tried not to dwell on this as I ascended the stairs in a titanic haste, climbing two flights of cold steps in record time. I did not question my desperate and frenzied behaviour at the time. My mind was in such turmoil, I just wanted to get away, to escape from the clutches of that truly malevolent figure. I ended up in the tiny washroom which stood adjacent to my own attic room, and slammed the door behind me. As if that wooden barrier would keep out the forces of evil! I did not know what to do. I endeavoured to think of some plan, some devilish scheme to outwit the fiendish Walter. I did not wish to be buried in that rotten hole, inside that oak coffin. I did not want my final breath to be stolen from me in such a treacherous manner. Even to imagine such a thing filled me with a weeping dread.
Without thinking I began to wash my hands, sinking the pair of them into the coldness of a nearby pail of water. The contents appeared fresh and translucent, and I guessed that Walter had placed it there for the very purpose of cleansing. My hands and fingernails were caked in soil, and I watched as the water started to turn an ugly brown in colour. Then, in a matter of seconds, that brownness seemed to turn to red, and I lifted my hands from beneath the surface. I was not sure of what was happening -- I was in a strange dream-like state, not knowing where reality ended and where those dreams begun. Certain images flashed inside my brain, horrendous scenes of spilling blood and torn flesh. My mind became haunted by these awesome pictures, and I then witnessed two hands being washed in a pail of cold water -- and they were covered in blood. The blood of those slaughtered prostitutes!
What diabolical crimes had I committed in the blackness of night? Was I the guilty one, the one who had been seeking those poor women of the streets and exposing their innards to the moonlight? I could not be sure -- I could not be certain!
I frantically searched my brain, but alas, I was unable to discover the unpleasant memories of those gruesome acts. I started to think that I was of twin personalities, one good and one bad, and my evil side stalked the streets during the twilight hours, as my good side slept in that freezing attic, surrounded by the dust and the cobwebs. I was naturally horrified by this, and began to agree with Walter's words. My mind was tainted -- and I had to be punished.
With a melting heart and bones fit to chill I descended the two flights of steps once more, and returned to the coldness of the yard. Walter was still sitting on the soil. It was as if he were waiting for me, and that he somehow knew that I would find the awful truth within my feverish mind. His peculiar eyes glared at me once again, as was his habit, and he got to his feet to confront me. All manner of chaos was inhabiting my thoughts, driving me wild, causing me to become deranged and mentally unstable. Yet I was conscious of one thing -- I was not deserving of life.
"Do it," I told him, "bury me in that grave. I am not fit to live."
It was a command rather than a request, and I myself was astonished at my authoritative behaviour. For the only time Walter appeared sheepish and awed by me -- the tables were turned, and it felt good.
Without a word nor a sound I crept into that coffin, adopting the horizontal position that millions upon millions had done before me, the only difference being that they were already dead. I looked up at Walter, and noticed his queer grin, his blanched face bearing down upon me. His countenance was of a perverse nature, but I refused to linger on that thought. I closed my eyes, and invited the darkness. No longer would my evil side walk in shadows, destroying life in its wake. I opened my eyes again, and saw that Walter had gone.
I called his name, and seconds later he reappeared. I caught a brief glimpse of his uncanny features before he placed the heavy lid of the coffin over my resting form. I had not expected this.
He then began to hammer nails into the wood, thus securing the lid tightly upon the coffin. There would be no chance of escape -- not that I wished to. A heavy darkness fell upon me, and the sounds of Walter's hammering were deafening to my ears. My heartbeat quickened, and I became afraid, for I knew nothing of the mysterious kingdom of the afterdeath. With these thoughts haunting me, a silence arrived, but only for a short period, for he then started to lob the loose soil back into the pit -- my pit.
Soon I would be free -- free from Walter and his strangeness, free from the dreadful killings for which my other half was responsible, free from the arrival of the Blackworld. I afforded myself a small chuckle, for this was my own private world of blackness. I reflected on the disturbing images I had experienced as I washed myself in that pail of water. I was doing the right thing, for the streets would be safe without me. I deserved to be punished. It was my destiny.
A cold silence gripped me. It was so unnaturally dark in that coffin, and I was struggling for breath. Suddenly I felt a quivering madness overwhelm me, and a sinister realisation entered my mind. The image I had witnessed, those evil hands stained with the blood of the innocent. My flesh tightened all over my body, and somehow, in some obscure fashion, I heard the insidious laughter that I knew so well -- Walter's laughter.
The hands I had seen -- they did not belong to me. They were not my hands!