The room was dark. Dark apart from the dull periphery of light that surrounded a barely alive candle.
It was surroundings like this that brought out the best in him. It was his world, where ideas and theories and plans could be mulled over in silence and where nobody could interfere with their wretched points of view. Blackness is good, blackness is so tangible that one can almost feel it seep into one’s ears and immerse the brain in a relaxing, soothing balm, from which thoughts of such brilliance cannot but fail to be produced.
He stared at the candle. It wasn't really strong enough for the room, but bright enough to provide the only doorway from an inky, charged atmosphere should one require it. But he didn't really require it. Only the weak require it. The building he was in had seen so many people and seen such tragedies. He felt the souls of the dead still wandering around, some laughing at him, some crying at him. But he dismissed their words and their actions. They had lost direction in life and were directionless in death. That was their problem - he knew how to help living people gain the true direction. He could stop sorry souls from ending up in the place that some people called limbo.
Eyes flickering to the left, to the right, and there near the corner of the room he could just make out the corner of a table. Only just. A vain attempt by an inanimate object to pierce this curtain of gloom.
However, it was this mere corner that was all he needed to focus on, and his eyes rested on it and stuck like the proverbial glue. They weren't going to be moved. He wasn't going to be moved. He just fixed his steadfast gaze on the corner, without blinking, without the slightest itch.
The room around him started to change. The darkness all but dissipated to be replaced by the vaguest light that was neither white nor yellow, but some kind of shade in between. To the everyday mortal, this would be a cause for concern, a worry that the mind was about to be lost. But he could feel this light come from within. It built up through every nerve in his body and burst forth from the power source in the middle of his forehead.
He felt his cerebrum become hotter and hotter, and imagined the folds and creases of his cerebral cortex being mere channels for the flow of energy, but even the old grey matter wouldn't be able to hold back what was happening to him now. It was strange how this concentrated effort seemed to make his personality so much more powerful and those around him revered his presence all the more. It was so obvious to him and so damn pleasing.
His eyes started to water such was the intensity of his stare, but his concentration did not waver; still he locked onto the corner of the table, deep in the darkness of the room.
ã Davy Taylor 2012
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Davy Taylor is a new writer from London, England whose first horror novel 'The Changing' is available from most online stockists and also as an e-book including Kindle.
Taylor has been interested in the horror genre since he was a child and he has now decided to use his knowledge of the subject to write about scenarios that have been running about his mind for many years. He is a constant student of the day to day behaviour of the human race and what he finds positive and negative about it has been finding its way into his writing.
His style of writing has been likened to a cross between Stephen King and Nick Hornby and considering that these are two authors that Taylor holds in the highest regard then that is not surprising! He believes in humour as a counterpoint to the darker aspects of a plot, a way of "deepening an emotional roller coaster ride."
Taylor writes about normal and everyday scenarios that he has seen and continues to see and throws a worrying spanner into the works; this, he believes, is not always so far removed from the truth, as he feels that more and more people are seeing the world "through cracked glasses."
Taylor is working on his second horror novel but before that he will be publishing his first comedy novel - "Chips and Wandering Minds."