Wednesday 8 July 2015

Shadows Fall -A Tag Blog- Part 06

This is a Tag blog story. So far five writers have contributed, each with their own style and slant and if you think you are up to it the next could be YOU!

See details at the end of this episode.

The door buzzed and George waved me over. “You expecting anyone?” We both looked at the two figures on the little black and white screen.

I told him not to be so paranoid but I suppose the bandage on his chest gave him reason to be cautious. Things had been more than spooky since Crete. I heard the buzzer in the office upstairs and the door opened.

“See!” I was standing by the door while he ransacked the drawers, looking for the gun he had hidden there but as the footsteps passed our door and carried on, I found myself holding my breath deep in my stomach against the pounding in my ears. I guessed at two sets of footsteps, one a little lighter on the concrete floor. My chest tight for a lung-full of air but I didn’t give in to their demands.

I cracked opened the door and gulped at the stale air of the hallway when the steps reached the next floor and peeped through the crack. But before I could snatch another breath, the door swung open and a silhouetted figure swiped the butt of a gun across the side of my head and my vision became a starry sky.

I fell through the doorway into a hard room before the heavy door closed behind me.

“Where is George, where is my brother?” The door slammed shut.

The musty smell of grapes intimated the prior use of the space but there was no spirit here anymore, fermented or otherwise.

What did they want from us, why were we here and what would happen next but as the shadows lengthened across the floor I gave in to the fatigue and my eyelids drooped.

More silhouettes in doorways and curt voices shouting instructions I couldn’t understand. Was it German? Yes, I managed to pick out some familiar words. I hadn’t bothered with languages at school, Christ! I’m British, I was born with the key to the door. I went to raise myself but one of the hands pushed me back down and grabbed my ankles. My body swept a line in the dusty floor for about twenty feet until they lifted me into a chair, tied a leg to each of the front legs and bound me with coarse rope, not the type they make rope bridges from, no, this was the kind used to tie a noose.

They began yelling at me but I had no answers and no way to communicate if I’d wanted to. My hands were tied and my tongue was lacking. Then the acrid blows began to swing across my face, like a metronome of hurt. My face! I was no Clooney but could they not make worse of a bad job. The second man stepped forward to relieve the first, I was tiring them. He recoiled with his first blow shaking his fingers, I smiled, my face a Chinese dragon mask of pain, my teeth outlined in blood. How much of your own blood can you swallow before losing consciousness, I was sure I’d find out soon enough. He renewed his vigour but he had none of the first man’s stamina and soon he stood back panting. The first man stepped back out of the shadows holding a length of rope with a tennis-ball sized knot at the end. They laughed between themselves as he mimed swinging it deep under the seatless chair. I wanted to grit my teeth and retain my countenance but this was not that kind of book and I was not that kind of hero. I was ready to talk, I was ready to answer, I was not ready for the rope.

“Enough!” I spat. “Where is my brother!”

The rope swung, I sucked hard and the knot hit my left buttock hard but a mercy. It swung again, I sucked hard swallowing another gulp of blood. Right cheek. The men laughed again, were they fucking with me? The rope swung again. No mercy. This time I couldn’t swallow, the gulp of blood splattered a Rorschach on his white t-shirt.

“Wine should get that out,” I offered looking around. I was right, empty racks lined the cracked plastered walls.

The rope swung, the door creaked on its hinges. I thought I saw a Tommy with a sten gun step in to save me. As my eyes regained focus what stood over me now was just as unlikely, an officer of the SS, his black uniform darker than the shadows, darker than the gaps in my vision. He should not have been here, he was in the wrong movie.

“I don’t know what you want but I’ll tell you whatever I know.” This guy had the power to make this stop. “Just tell me about my brother.”

He looked everything the German nightmare of history lessons and matinee movies until he spoke. “Of course you will, old boy.” His accent was perfect RP.

He stood back while he removed his leather gloves and the rope swung. Bullseye!

“I don’t need you to talk, old bean. I need you to suffer.”

“Job done! Can we go home now?” I managed in short, sharp breaths.

He whipped the glove across my face. This was the product of some English public school and he was some bitter fag.

“You are an admirable race, you British. The Fuhrer was an avid fan. Did you know that?” He paced before me while the other two waited for their cue to continue. “You have been splendid adversaries but really only ever putting off the inevitable. We, on the other hand, have been patient.” He caught the eye of one of the technicians and nodded.

Christ! They were getting better.

“Now the professor is close to completion and the endgame begins. I am quite sure you would have appreciated it if—” he made for the door.

“George! My brother?”

“Oh,” he stopped by the door. “What were you doing in the cemetery?”

I was more than willing to answer but he cut me off. “You brother failed to tell us before he…”

Read all the episodes from the beginning 01 02 03 04 05

Participation instructions

Anyone who thinks they have what it takes to carry this story through the next part, simply comment below. First person to comment that they would like to continue the story, has ONE WEEK to post the next part to their own blog.

Place this message at the end of your completed blog entry, and wait for someone to accept the challenge of taking this story on as you did. Once the next post is in place on your blog page, post another comment below, with link, to let me know and I will re-post my part with that link to your next part of the story. If someone has already offered to take the story from here, please feel free to leave a comment saying you would like to play too, and should we run out of volunteers we can go back and beg you to take over where the chain ends. Thank you and we shall be interested to see where you take it.


  1. Replies
    1. Thanks Rachel, you did set the bar quite high!

  2. Outstanding! Like I said in a reply to your comment on my section... this is getting interesting.

  3. This comment has been removed by the author.

  4. Holy crap, it's amazing how each part gets better than the last. Great job David!

    1. I'm so very huumble!

      So who's next?

      I'm definitely up for a future episode

  5. Replies
    1. Cheers, Richard.

      How are you doing down there?


“In a hyper-real postmodern world, fact and fiction have become confusingly indistinguishable” Hunter S. Thompson

Throw in your two-pennies worth

From Under Dark Clouds

The Century of DIY