9.

The mind is a powerful force. It can enslave us or empower us. It can plunge us into the depths of misery or take us to the heights of ecstasy. If only this power could be used wisely.

The day the glass tumbler fell and crashed, the day I first came in contact with a dead body, I felt a power inside. It took time to work out, it took time to learn how to use it. He caught on to it. Before I could use it to my advantage, he tied my wrists together, he tied my ankles together, for without them free, I couldn't control him.

My days grew darker, my nights grew darker still, and then the realization came. I could see again but through the eyes of other, I could send them thoughts, I could send them dreams. No one came for me, no one helped, the point came when all I wanted was vengeance. I wanted outers to feel what I felt. I wanted something to come for you, but I still loved you, even years after I had been taken.

Why had it to be me? Why not you? I thought. I wished then our minds met, and you could not have known. All the women he brought back, none of them had been the little girl you had been, and I knew I was no longer the little girl I had been. Hurt, pained, traumatized, I sent you images of what I saw before my sight went completely. He took that from me. He took everything from me, not least my innocence. And now, it is I who is guilty ...

When he died, it was then I knew he'd never bring you, so I gave you him, or an impression of him, until he became real. He was back but not as before. He was not my captor though I was his. I could force him into any situation I wanted. Was it wrong for me to share my pain? Was it wrong for me to hurt you, my only friend.

Technically I done nothing, it done it all. He found you, he tricked you, he brought you here. He done the hurting, he done the killing, he hid in the shadows, and no one can prove that he was, is, or has ever been under my guide ...

***

A doorbell sounds and she is quick to respond from her side with her home.

'Yes? Who is it?'

'Eh, ma'am. Do excuse us. My name is Karen and my friend here, Bernard, we are asking questions door to door in the hopes of acquiring information, however small, about a friend of mine who has been missing for about three weeks now ...'

'Oh, forgive me please', she says opening her door as far as its chained lock allows it to go. 'I would like to help but there is absolutely nothing I can offer you ...'

'Well, if you are sure ma'am ...' it is clear to the visitors that the lady they have come to is blind. She appears young too, probably around their own age, old enough to be of age but young still to be living alone and with a condition too.

'I'm sure.'

'May I ask, what is down there, not so far behind you?' Karen asks, peering in past the opening in the door as far as she can see.

'Just the entrance down to the basement, if that is what you are asking about ...' she responds, being aware and unaware of what is being implied.

'I could go down and have a look around for you while I am here. Check everything out for, you know, safety reasons.'

'That's very kind of you, but not necessary. I know my home well.'

'If you are sure ...'

'I am, and once again I apologize, I can't be of any help.'

She closes the door and locks it down before another word could be spoken.

***

'What's the deal next door?' two young people ask after introducing themselves to the house next door.

'Oh, that's Miss Smith, Alice, I think but I don't know her well enough to call her by her forename. She lives alone though some would tell you otherwise. She lost a sibling, a father figure some time ago I believe. Some say he is not dead at all, as sometimes two voices can be heard conversing inside, one male voice and the other female. She may be creating both voices but who really knows?'

'Interesting. Do you ever hear the voices?'

'Nah, I tend to keep away. Interfering is just asking for trouble if you ask me, especially since it is rumoured that he had be abducting young women ...'

'Really?'

'So I heard ...'

***

Three years pass and Bernard still works in a coffee shop. Every once in a while, Karen will still call him Barista Boy. He doesn't like it though Karen is the only one he will allow to speak those words to him.

A young lady arrives in and orders a large latte, a plain chocolate bar, and a fruit scone. Bernard immediately thinks of Rei. Large lattes were her drink of choice and on a Wednesday, which this day so happens to be, a plain chocolate bar or a fruit scone would accompany the latter though both were acquired by this lady.

This particular lady looked to be of age that she could be Rei though a scar she wore made it difficult to tell for sure. Should he inquire or leave it be? There is the guilt he feels as when she left the café that day with that older fellow ... well ... she had not been seen since. Hr decides against asking. If this were Rei, wouldn't she say? Perhaps and perhaps not, after all he had never been more than an acquaintance to her, so ...

Sometimes he does dream of her. What if he had become closer to her, been someone to her. Dreams are just dreams sometimes, they don't always need to be followed.

For now, on a Christmas Eve where snowfall has been plentiful, a blanket of white lays undisturbed probably until such time when Mother Nature see it fit to dissolve such beauty. And within, beneath, or around by such beauty, what horrors await discovery or release ...?

Has Humanity reached an apocalyptic point? Or is such a thought nothing more than predictive fiction?