The Road To Darker Killingbeck

Asleep, I floated as if on clouds across a land I could only imagine in a dream. Then I was sitting in a huge cinema arena alone watching the movie of my life. Director, writer, cameraman, I was all of these. The story flickered past so quickly, until the old crone approached me in Byers Road, looking menacing, her clay pipe fixed firmly in her slack mouth, her body stooped, the basket of peat clinging precariously to her arched back.

I woke, sunlight running freely across the room and up onto the bed from a gap in the curtain. I sat up in bed, rubbed my eyes, stretched and yawned. Outside Darker Killingbeck stood waiting patiently for me, as it always had. As it had waited for me for many years. I somehow always knew I always belonged here, yet so many times faceless reptiles wearing human masks told me I was not for this place.

I see, in that instant a million shadows, rapidly disappearing faces, familiar smiles, tears and joy. People I once knew. Friends, acquaintances, lovers. People who knew the things I had done that had made me proud, and the things I had done that had made me feel wonderful, yet guilty at the same time. I wondered, what had happened to them all, how their lives had been, and then I considered all those people who confidently thought they knew me, but really hadn't a clue.

From the kitchen downstairs the smell of food rose, bacon, eggs, sausages sizzling in the pan, the dark woman dancing around her scullery as if she were the centre of an advertisement. Grouped around the table in the dining room, the men who had been playing cards the previous evening when I arrived, sat, their knives and forks poised and at the ready for their scran.
I showered lethargically, dressed and went downstairs, past the print of Dali's Madonna in Particles, taking time to study it for a few seconds before moving on.

The others grunted as I entered, the grey bearded man with the horrible green polo neck nodding.

'Did you sleep well?' I ask grey beard cheerily as I entered. 'I slept like a log I have to tell you.'

He didn't answer, but looked around at his three friends seated at each corner of the breakfast table.

'What do you mean?' he returned to me.
'I just wondered if you had slept well, I found my bed very comfortable, that's why I slept a little late.' I confessed.
'We never sleep' the man said simply as he turned back toward his friends.

Before I could say anything, the woman was gliding into the room with piping hot plates of food.
'Here we are gentlemen' She announced as she swept regally into the room and dropped the plates in front of two grinning older men.

'Where exactly are we?' I said absently. The man in the hideous green polo neck sweater dropped his fork onto his plate with a crashing metallic sound.

There was a pause as the others stared across at me.

'Darker Killingbeck. And you...' The man with the grey beard pointed across at me with his knife in a sinister fashion.

The dark haired woman arrived again with another two plates and the demeanour of the men, which had been menacing, immediately changed.

'Ah scran' Polo neck smiled and licked his lips.

The woman now turned toward me.
'Now then, new arrival what would you like?'
'Scrambled eggs, and coffee.' I said simply. Someone on the opposite table laughed quietly.
'That won't fill ye' Green polo neck scowled, his lips apart, his teeth nicotine stained and black.

I smiled politely, and noticed that after breakfast the men started to play cards again. For a while, while I worked myself through my scrambled eggs and toast, I watched them play, astounded to find that the cards they held in their hands were all blank.