Mark opened his eyes. 'How long had he been falling for?' As his eyes focused, Mark observed his surroundings. He was lying in a field of grass which spanned as far as his eyes could see. Rising from the ground, he stared up at the sky. Blue. No clouds, just blue. 'What the fuck,' he thought to himself as he searched for any sign of an anomaly in the extensive space he had fell down into. 'Fell down into!!' Mark shot up, scanning the sky for any signs of a whole or breach which he would of entered through. But to no avail. Then he remembered the old man. 'Where is he?' Mark thought. 'Why wouldn't he be here, he sent me to this place after all.' Suddenly, he felt a tap on his shoulder.
"I'm right here Mark."
He spun around. Coming face to face with, yet again, the old man.
"Don't worry, I'll explain all of this to you in due time." The old man spoke in a calming tone, but Mark wasn't succumbing to this so easily.
"Nah, how about you explain this now, is this under my landlord's house? Did you build this? How did you build this?" Mark appeared furious, this wasn't common behaviour for him.
"Woah woah, calm down, your just going to make this more difficult than it already is by getting frustrated."
"How can I not get frustrated and confused and..." Mark didn't have enough words to express his feelings. He took a deep breath and asked, "What was your name again?"
The old man replied, "Tom Fisher."
Mark nodded, "So.. Where am I?"
"Your telling me you don't recognise this place?"
Mark returned a confused and slightly pissed look so Tom continued.
"You a dreamer?" Tom asked.
"Am I a what? A dreamer? As in do I have dreams? I guess so, yeah." Mark raised his right eyebrow, this was a thing he had done since he was a kid when he thought someone was being stupid.
"So this place still isn't familiar to you?"
Mark looked around at the barren, yet abstract plane he had found himself in.
"I mean maybe," He replied. "I don't remember ever being here however."
"Well this.." Tom started. "Is your minds palace."
A wave of shock hit Mark like a train. 'What.' "Your telling me I'm inside my own head right now."
"In a sense, I suppose." Tom said, "From now until two weeks time, every time you sleep you will appear back in this imaginary realm."
"Wait, why?" Mark looked more puzzled than ever now, his mind seemingly one million thoughts heavier. "Is any of this real? Or am I just really high or something?"
"I thought we were past this Mark," Tom appeared to have a slightly annoyed expression spreading across his wrinkled face. "This is a dream. You fell asleep in your kitchen. That's why your here."
That's when Mark noticed there was something off about this man. The way he spoke. It was odd. He had always been good at reading people, this was a trait his dad had taught him long ago when he had moved to England from Japan. 'This man's lying.' Mark thought to himself as he observed Tom, taking every quiver, every twitch into account.
"Your lying."
Tom smirked, "So you are smart, I thought you were.. Just by looking at you."
"Why lie?"
"In life, as I'm sure you know, the truth can be painful. However you seem like you want to hear it." Tom smiled warmly at Mark, it was as if Tom had taken away all his problems in this place. This place, devoid of work, responsibility, fear, death, anger, greed, lust and seemingly every other wrongdoing possible.
"So then Tom, where truly am I?"
"This place.. Is called The Far Field. It's a surreal plane that resides outside of space and time, here things never age. It is a realm that one could live in eternally." Tom's expression suddenly saddened. "If only that last bit were true."
"What?" Mark asks, "What do you mean 'if only that last bit were true'?"
"Day of Judgement is nearing." Tom tensed as he spoke these words. "You see that mark on your arm, that is no scratch... it's a branding."
Mark pulled his sleeve up and revealed the eye shaped mark on the underside of his arm.
"That branding binds my soul to yours. We are now one... Until the day." Tom wiped the sweat off his forehead. "There are beings, in this world stronger and more powerful than you can imagine. They feed off life itself."
Mark was too stunned to speak and just listened as Tom continued.
"I was before, you are the present." Tom's words began making less and less sense as his mind melted on the sheer aspect of his speech.
"In a sense, I am your host. Your guest from now 'till the day." Mark began to fidget as he listened. "Do not fret now, the time for that is later. More will be explained I'm sure." Tom's words were becoming even more complex for Mark to understand. "Sorry Mark, it's my faul-"
Suddenly the world distorted, the green plains lost their colour, the sky became white like a blank canvas. Mark's eyes blurred his surroundings he felt as if he was falling.. Upwards?
Mark jolted upwards. Franticly looking around at his surroundings he realised, 'Had he just been asleep this whole time?' Sweating, he held his head in his palms. 'Was any of that real?'
Rising up out of bed, Mark collected his trench coat, unlocked his door and descended the stairs to his car.
Pulling up to the station, Mark couldn't help but feel as if he was being followed. Was he being followed? Or was he just going insane? These questions spread through his brain, creating thoughts of horrible scenarios he wished he would never have to experience. Footsteps. 'There', he knew he heard something. However as he spun around and the empty street appeared before him, he began to have doubts. Suddenly, Mark felt as if his mind contorted. He fell to the floor. Those 'things' appeared again. It was as if they wished to conversate with Mark. "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?!" Mark screamed aloud, while the creatures just floated before him. Then he heard more footsteps. He wished it could just all be over. Holding his head in his arms, he went silent, hoping that by doing this 'they' might leave him alone. The footsteps loudened. They were nearing him. Mark tensed up and as the footsteps reached his side...
"Hey, are you alright?" He heard a voice. "Should I go get help?" The voice sounded shaky, nervous almost. He hadn't heard it before.
"Nope, it's fine." Mark rose to his feet, rubbing his eyes. "Thanks though,"
"No problem..."
The silence was loud.
"So umm.." Mark began, "Are you knew around here? Veilham is a small town and I don't think I recognise you."
"Yeah.. I moved here from London a week ago... My name's Will, Will Roberts. How about you?"
"Mark." He checks his phone,15:59. 'Shit, I'm late.'
"Sorry Will, I'm gonna be late um, how about we catch up later?"
"Sure." Will replied smiling.
"Meet me at the Pale Mare, at around.. eight-ish. I'll be there with a couple friends."
"Ok, see ya." Will turned and started walking back the way Mark had came.
The door to the debriefing room swung open. Mark appeared in the doorway, panting. "Sorry I'm... Late." Mark kneeled to catch his breath before walking in. The heads of everyone in the room slowly moved to stare at him. Carmen sighed and turned back to face the Commissioner. "And where the fuck have you been, Tomohiro?" Wilfred Hans' words felt like a dagger stabbing into Marks chest. "I suppose there is some excuse?"
Unwilling to tell them about what truly happened, Mark replied, "No, sorry sir."
"Well you had better take a seat quickly then."
Mark scanned the room for a seat, it was packed, he didn't even know there was this many detectives working in Veilham. His eyes landed on an empty seat next to Carmen, who refused to look his way.
Wading his way through the sea of officers Mark could hear many insults as their eyes followed him like cameras.
"What's the point in even having the Chinese guy."
"This guy's fuckin' useless."
"Quick, Ryan trip him up.."
Mark heard that one too late. He fell, knocking Carmen off her chair and landing directly on top of her.
"Oh shit sorry Carme.."
She shoves him off, giving him a glare and sits back down.
"Wow Tomohiro you are really making a ruckus today aren't you!" Hans' spoke again, this time his words seemed sharper.
Having finally found his seat, the Commissioner (Matthew Song) continued the debriefing.
"Sorry to make you all wait, anyway this case is now fully in our hands. The forensic analysts said they have been the most confused they have in a while. We have a dangerous killer here folks, this death ain't from no natural causes."
Mark wished he could explain his experience, he had talked with that dead man. However they would never listen.
"We have still not identified the body, meaning we have little to no leads whatsoever. We can't even be sure how long the body was there for. The family who's house it was found in have been in Monaco, France for eight weeks. Now I hope you understand that we are not ruling them out, but it is unlikely they are related to this crime."
"Wait, sir.." A skinny officer with pale white skin and brown hair lifted his hand.
"Yes, John?"
"Sorry to interject, but umm.. who reported the body?"
"I was just about to get onto that, thanks anyway John."
John lowered his hand nervously as if he was a student and the teacher just exposed him for cheating on the test.
"When we got the call.. It was an anonymous tip from a number that no longer exists. This is possibly the only thread we have. I believe that the caller.. Is the killer."
All Mark could think about is how all of these officers are blind to the truth that lies right in front of them.
"You are all now dismissed, we will begin the investigation tomorrow."
As the hoard of officers began to flush out of the doors, Mark grabbed Carmen's arm. She spun around. "What?"
"Meet me and Darren at his pub later, around eight-ish."
"We'll see."
"Alright.." Mark said awkwardly as he let go of her arm. 'Her eyes were very brown today.' He thought as she turned and followed the crowd out of the doors.
Before he could leave, Matthew beckoned him over. "Mark, just remember I gave you this second chance so that you improve, okay?"
Mark nodded and flowed back out the doors like the rest of the officers.
Mark stepped out of the station and into the street. The streets felt calm. Veilham always felt quiet, but today it was too quiet, no footsteps on the cobbles, no voices spilling from pubs, not even the distant hum of traffic. He shoved his hands into his trench coat pockets and began walking, telling himself he'd just head straight home. The commissioner's words rattled through his head, the insults of the other detectives pressed on his chest. But more than that, the image of the hollow body wouldn't leave him. And Tom Fisher. 'Who is he?' He was so wrapped up in thought that he almost didn't notice when the streetlamps around him flickered and died. One after the other, they went out, leaving him in absolute darkness. Mark froze.
A faint glow appeared down the street. Then another. And another.
Crimson red Japanese lanterns, floated through the air as though suspended by invisible threads. Memories suddenly flooded into his mind of him and his dad back in Japan. They swayed gently, casting long, soft pools of warm light onto the dark cobblestones.
Mark's breath caught in his throat. "What the hell…"
One lantern drifted a few feet ahead, then another, forming a path deeper down the streets. Something about them pulled at him, irresistible, he felt that if he followed; he would reconnect with more of his fondest memories. Against his better judgment, he followed. His shoes splashed through the puddles as he trailed the shifting lights. A white fog began to spread as he neared what he supposed to be the end of the lanterns path. Finally, the lanterns led him down a back alley. As he reached an opening in the tight alleyway, he noticed a woman.
She wore a flowing white kimono, long sleeves trailing across the cobbles as she spun. Her movements were slow, deliberate, almost hypnotic.
She was dancing.
A Noh mask covered her face, pale and expressionless. His gaze shifted past her, and his stomach turned. On the ground behind her lay a body. Mark's breath stuttered as he recognized the face. "Dad?'"
His father's skin was pale, lips grey, eyes staring lifelessly at the sky. Exactly as Mark remembered from the night he'd found him all those years ago.
"No…" Mark whispered. Memories flushed through his mind the shouting, the blood, the sound of breaking glass, the cruel laughter of the men who'd done it. The helplessness. His father's helplessness.
The dancer twirled gracefully around the corpse, as if celebrating his father's death.
He lunged forward, slamming into her, driving her to the ground. She let out a muffled cry as his fists came down again and again, striking her face, her chest, anything he could reach. The mask cracked on the cobblestones with a sharp snap, fragments scattering across the cobbled floor.
Each blow blurred with the next, his knuckles slick with blood. He couldn't even see her anymore. All he saw was his father's body, that's all he needed to see.
Suddenly, the lanterns flickered and one by one, they faded out, plunging the alleyway into darkness.
Mark stopped, panting, his arms trembling. He looked down.
His father was gone, or perhaps he was never there.
Light returned to the streets, the fog lifted and a feeling of dread washed over him. The woman beneath him was not masked anymore, she wasn't even wearing a kimono. She was just a young woman, her face bruised and bloodied, blood pooling beneath her head. Her terrified eyes fluttered half-shut.
"Wh.. why?" Her voice was croaky, blood spurted out of her mouth as she spoke.
Mark stumbled backward, nearly slipping on the cobbles. His heart pounded so loud it drowned the silence. He stared at his hands red, trembling, unrecognizable.
"How.. Is this possible?"
The lanterns were gone. He was standing in a filthy alleyway, the neon glow of a pub sign flickering faintly nearby. The world was normal again. But his world wasn't.
He had beaten an innocent woman half to death. Mark pressed his back to the cold brick wall, fighting for breath. His mind spun, tears rolled down his cheeks as he tried to muster up an excuse, an escape. Panic clawing at him he calmed down and focused. Wiping his hands on his coat, he pulled out his phone, and dialled emergency services.
When the operator answered, his voice came out panicked, there was no hiding the truth.
"Yeah… I just found a woman in an alley. She's hurt bad. You'd better send someone quick. I'm down by", he peered up at the flickering pub sign. "The Magician's Arms, please be quick, she's in a fatal condition."
He hung up before they could ask questions, sliding the phone back down into his pocket.
Mark looked down at the unconscious woman, then at his own reflection in a puddle by his feet, created by rainwater. It had began to rain. Focusing in on his reflection he saw a man, but it wasn't him.
Not Mark. Not a Detective.
But something else entirely.