A Tale of Madness - part one

His transition from a thoughtful, careful, considerate soul, to a brutish, sociopathic madman, was one of little steps; small enlightenments if you will. Fortunately for the residents of the town of Spiddle Fork, not many were witness to the change. Oh, there were some, but they now occupy various shadowy copses, hidden river beds, and run down barns blotted with thick, overgrown ivy and hedge.

Those who never saw what happened went about their pedestrian lives, minding whatever it was that Spiddle-folk minded. Until one day, when our subject went quite mad...more mad than he had previously been, twice as mad as any madman had been before.

A sky full of low, charcoal clouds hung above Spiddle Fork as if on tiny wires. They had appeared suddenly, and they remained perched above the town, unmoving, even as the wind picked up and scattered leaves about the cobbled streets.

Some of the townsfolk were already turning on their gas lights in front of their homes and securing the shutters. Even the three old men who sat outside the cafe all hours of the day had pulled up their table and were huddled against the stuccoed side of the structure. They held their wool hats tight to their heads with one hand, and used the other hand to cup against their mouths, as they shouted unintelligibly to one another.

In a quiet room, a ways off of the main streets, tucked away inside a dark, miserable building, down a winding, dank alley, sat the man. Slivers of fetid light crept into his room, over the bedclothes, over his unmoving form, much to his annoyance. It was very rare when light of any real strength found its way into his shadowy corner of the world.

Outside, if any townsfolk were to look up at the strange sky, they would have noticed one small shaft of golden light, penetrating through the underbelly of the clouds. This sunlight centered itself directly over the twisting, brick and stucco row house, embedded in the forgotten alleyway.

The man picked up the tin cup in front of him and put it to his lips. He tilted his head back and felt the liquid spill down his throat, coating his tongue. The blood had coagulated slightly and it was becoming thick, like a coppery syrup.

Continued soon...