Bleed

Water sprayed everywhere, the doctor ran through puddle after puddle, trying not to slip on the reddish brown mud, closely resembling the waistcoat he’d mindlessly thrown on over a half buttoned shirt as he attempted to maintain some form of professional decency. Screams could be heard throughout the sleepy Devon town, flocks of sheep nervously pacing, leaping, falling… like waves crashing against a stoney beach.

“Quick! Doctor, in here!” The young farmer shouted, trying to be heard over the torrential downpour. “I found him… among the cows not half hour ago, he must have been trampled or something!”

The doctor sank in the mud with every step, the thick clay pulling at the loosely fitting boots he’d reserved solely for the garden, as he finally reached the concrete step he let out a sigh of relief as the young farmer reached out a hand pulling him free. “The boy? Where is he?”

“In the kitchen…” placing his hand on the doctor's chest preventing him from entering the house, the farmer leant forward and whispered “it's bad doctor, I've never seen anything this bad.”

The doctor slipped off the muddy boot, kicking them off beside the old boot brush behind the door. He rushed to the kitchen, where stood the son’s Mother and Father desperately praying.

Deep down, in the pit of his stomach, the doctor felt a sickness slowly settling, as beads of sweat formed above his eyebrow, his face turned from red to green to blue as the smell of bile and half digested shit assaulted he's unreadied senses, reaching for the bin he tried, to little success, to fight the urge as he gagged, saliva building up in his mouth, acid burning the back of his throat… he wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

“We didn't think much of it! He was always home late, after dark! He's a kid…” the father begged and pleaded with the doctor, “please he's just a boy! You must save him.”

“I'm so sorry!” The doctor placing his hand on the father shoulder, “have some dignity man! Your wife is going to need you now… more than ever…” he gently slapped the young man's shoulders as he turned his back on the young couple, slidding on the worn out boots, stepping on to the step where the young farm hand stood waiting. He lit a cigarette... “You'd have been better off leaving him.” He turned to the young farm hand “why all that trouble? What you put that family through… giving them some sick sense of hope… there was nothing left of the boy!”

“But… he was still warm, still moving…” the farmer looked in stunned horror as the doctor drew on the cigarette.

“Bodies do that… you know this, you've worked the killing floor all your life… when something is torn in half they tend not to live long… I know it's hard, seeing something like that and your cousin no less, but all you can do now is be there for your aunt and uncle.” Taking another drag of the musky, brown cigarette, exhaling a thick dark smoke that endlessly lingered in the cold wet air, twisting and contorting, floating gently away in the night sky.

The unrelenting deluge continued, a freezing assault of chilling nails, determined to quell any resistance and Dr Tseng stood watching, he took one last puff of the dirty rolled tobacco leaves, before throwing the smoldering remains into the puddle collecting at the bottom of the step.

I haven't seen anything like that, not since leaving the city. Back then it was nothing but typhoid and ripper murders, I thought a quiet, rural town would do me some good.

The young farmer, still staring with a look of disbelief, where was the sympathy and compassion that doctors of medicine were so renowned for?

“Look I'll clean him up, make him good for the funeral, he can stay on the kitchen table for a couple nights, I suggest you send the word around so your family can begin to grieve… proper.” The doctor rolled up his shirt sleeves, “stick the kettle on before you head off, I got a long night ahead.”

The farm hand nodded and went back inside, the cries of mournful parents echoed by the neighbors dog, pierced through the veil of night, through the mist and rain, the doctor wiping his face setting his mind to the task ahead.

This is ridiculous…

Chapter 1 - The rain ran red

It's been three days, three days since the Griffiths boy was torn from this mortal coil, I stitched him back together and the family gathered his finest church suit, he lay on the kitchen table as his cousins, aunts, uncles visited each staying a night or two till finally it was time to lay him to rest. The village brought food and drink, some sang and danced and others cried, everyone thanked me as I welcomed them in, quietly making way to my corner on guard, ready to deal with any unfortunate symptom of an untimely death.

“Doctor…” spoke a small mousy blond woman, “anything else before we lay him down?” Mrs Griffiths was never one for words, she rarely needed them… when she spoke, people listened and that was enough. “Doctor… my son always thought the world of you, he would tell us all sorts of tales of your home land… He always had such an imagination, I'm aware our traditions seem weird but it would go a long way to help his spirit settle if you would share with us some of your own. You brought him into the world Doctor, it's only right you see him out.”

A tear gathered in the corner of the doctors eye, growing as it began its journey rolling, tumbling down the doctor's nose, around the thick black mustache, down his chin… till taking off, falling freely to the cold stone tile below.

“I'm sorry Doctor, I didn't…”

The Doctor made his way to the foot of the table, falling to his knees he whispered some words in a language rarely spoken. He removed his long wool coat, draping it over the boy, as to keep him warm in the after life.

“Thank you, for your kindness madam” the Doctor wiped the tears from his eyes.

The father, still sniffling as he attempted to hold back the flood of tears that not long ago welcomed the young man in to his family, cradled the body of his only son as the family followed him out to the final resting place. The local priest waiting beside the hole spoke blessings as mother and father covered the young man's face, a kiss on the forehead and he was lowered gently to be in peace. The rain began to fall heavier as the father returned the doctors coat, with a firm handshake and a mumbled invitation to join the guests for cake and tea he herded the guests back up the hill as the family threw a hand full of dirt upon the corpse and the gravedigger commenced with the solemn farewell. Dr Tseng stood, fixated on what seemed to be a shadow, standing alone on the spot the boy was killed.

“HEY! YOU THERE!” The Doctor screamed, only barely louder than the rain as it bounced from the roofs into the old green lead gutters, collecting in the old rain barrel beside the church. A rancid fetid odor began to overpower the resinous grassy fragrance of wet hops and chlorophyll, a thick red ferrous fluid began to collect in the foot prints that led from the church. The Doctor collapsed to his knees, overcome by a sharp, intense pain as his stomach was torn apart, thick chunks of flesh and viscera were ripped from the still breathing Tseng, the rain continued to pour with each drop turning red, thick and odorous.

“Doctor! Doctor Tseng?” A distant voice called, “wake up Doctor!”

His eyes gently fluttered as the Doctor, still clutching his stomach, was shook awake by the desperate young farm hand.

“Doctor! Please be okay! Please!” The young man cried as he tried to pull the doctor to his feet.

“Bloody hell boy! I'm awake!” Slapping away the callous young hand, Doctor Tseng moaned under his breath, brushing off the chunks of mud and grass.

“Are you okay? You were rolling around screaming in the mud! Like… Like my cousin David, you know… the one with…”

“Epilepsy Duncan… David has Epilepsy, me… I got something a bit… well I guess it's actually fairly similar.” The Doctor surveyed the field, hesitating to reveal to the young man anything more. “perhaps… Perhaps we should join the wake, I'm sure people are starting to notice our absence.”

The wake was a solemn affair, finger sandwiches, tea and sponge cake. Uncle Stephen spent forty five minutes joking before passing out face first in the coleslaw, for a moment I saw the boys mother smiling, while I sat in the corner, reliving those feelings, the loneliness, the despair as he was torn apart, how he felt every scratch, every bite, how he tried to scream as his lungs filled with blood, as he choked on his tongue while he faded in and out of consciousness. I knew that night I'd have to return, return to where it first happened, where a young life was…

“I brought you some sandwiches,” Duncan placed the porcelain plate gently on the worktop, “I kept playing that day through my head over and over…”

“Don't punish yourself kid… you did what you could…” the doctor interrupted as he took a bite of the cucumber and butter sandwich.

“But that's just it… sir please do stop me if I'm over stepping but” Duncan stuttered over his words, “when I arrived the cows were in an uproar charging around the field… It's as if someone else was there, as if someone spooked them real bad. Cows aren't stupid…”

Interrupting again Doctor Tseng coughed as he Inhaled the remaining sandwich, “did you see it?”

“Well no, but…” Duncan stared at his toes sticking out through the filthy green sock.

“Did you hear anything?”

“No sir…” shame began to envelop the young man as his heart pounded.

“Look Duncan I didn't mean it that way,” the doctor wrapped his hand around the nape of the boy's neck, “there something out there kid; something evil, violent, you need to keep you aunt and uncle safe, leave the rest to me okay?” whispering as he pressed his forehead against Duncan's, “you’ll understand someday but for now, your aunt and uncles need you.”

“Okay… I can do that.” The young man nodding his head, as the doctor lit a cigarette, sliding one arm at a time into his long beige felt overcoat, fixing his collar and headed out the back door where his muddy boots stood waiting.

I returned to the spot when it all happened, the blood washed away days ago, the cows remained skirting the edge of the field, the kid was right… something spooked these animals. I took a close look at the remaining impression, though it had somewhat faded as the rain tumbled down the field, I noticed however, something was clearly missing from this picture. If the kid was trampled by twenty plus ungulates, shouldn't the field itself be a mess? It should look like a freshly plowed pasture. It was then when I felt it, the darkness filling my heart, the coldness, the lack of remorse or guilt all I could feel was an unsatisfiable hunger as the the colours of the world disappeared, replaced only by shades of red and black.