The Nemesis Within

A psychological mystery about how past events can catch up with us!

The Nemesis Within

 

Heart racing, I turned the handle of the bedroom door. Please don’t squeak.  I waited half a minute for any reaction. None.  Holding my breath, I pushed the door open ever so slowly, until I could ease my head inside for a quick look. The room was empty. I entered, and shut the door. I glanced around. The duvet was pulled back on the single bed, the curtains pulled to shut out the dark, but what immediately drew my eyes was the reading light on the old wooden writing bureaux against the wall. A large book lay open on the desk, the light from the table lamp illuminating the open pages.

 

I stepped over to the desk and looked down at the open book. The subject of the photographic image on the left hand page made me gasp out loud. It threw my mind into such a state of confusion that I had to sit in the desk chair before my legs buckled.  At that stage I barely noticed the writing on the other page. I looked again at the picture but my mind refused to make any sense of what I was seeing. The image showed a man sitting at a wooden writing desk examining a large, open book lit by a table lamp. This must be some bizarre coincidence, was the only thought that surfaced. I started to look at the image in the book more carefully. Although I could only see his back, the man sitting at the table, looked about my age and, like me, had short hair and was wearing a dark blue outdoor jacket.

 

Examining the picture in more detail I could see the man’s right hand resting on the table with the jacket sleeve pulled back, showing a wristwatch with an expanding silver bracelet. I found myself glancing at my own right wrist with my watch and silver bracelet. What disturbed me even more was that the watch and strap were identical to mine. I felt like I was beginning to lose my mind by now and then it occurred to me that the whole thing might be one of these hyper-realistic half waking dreams that I have from time to time. However, I dismissed that possibility quickly - this was just too real.

 

I’m being stupid, I told myself. Keep calm; think logically; the impossible is just not possible. There must be some logical explanation. So far, what I had seen was within the bounds of possibility; after all, even the most unlikely coincidences do happen; someone does have to win the lottery. A clincher suddenly occurred to me, but did I really want to check it out? No way, but like a rabbit hypnotised by car headlights I bent down and examined carefully the hairline of the man in the photograph. Oh no, oh no! Just to the left of the centre line was a partly obscured but unmistakeable heart shaped birthmark. Subconsciously I put my hand to my own hairline and fingered the slight roughness of my own birthmark. I suddenly felt lightheaded, like I was tottering on the edge of some other reality.

 

I closed my eyes instinctively to blot the madness out, perhaps hoping my brain would somehow reset to ‘factory settings’. I opened them fearfully - but the photograph was still there. The man in the photo - was it me? - was still there. Suddenly a whole new level of unreality struck me with the finesse of a falling elephant. I couldn’t breathe; my heart felt like it had stopped!  My whole focus so far had been on the man in the photo - now I focussed on the book, that HE (the man in the photo - for f***s sake, even I’m getting confused now!) was looking at. Unbelievably it also showed a man sitting at a desk wearing a dark blue jacket and looking at an open book lit by the table light.  

 

No - oh god! I looked at the man in the illustration. On his right wrist was the watch with the silver bracelet. On the table was the book, with the selfsame picture of the man looking at a book, which itself, had the image of the man looking at the book, which showed the man …..

 

I suddenly had a giddying feeling of déjà vu - a few years ago I had stepped into a café toilet that had large mirrors fitted on all four walls. Rather than the usual claustrophobic cubicle I was blown away by my reflections disappearing off to infinity in all directions. This time however it was no optical illusion but felt like some fundamental fracture in the nature of space and time that I had spent a lifetime getting to know.

 

It suddenly occurred to me that I hadn’t looked at the page of writing or even examined what other horrors the book held.  I first turned the page to find that there were no other pages. Dumbfounded, I turned it back and steeled myself to read.

 

‘Welcome reader! You are fully aware that the fact that you are reading this is not by chance - you chose to enter the room by subterfuge. By now, you will have examined the photograph carefully and the detail such as the watch and the birthmark will have led you to an inescapable conclusion. Your conclusion is correct but your attempts at explaining this bizarre situation unaided are doomed to failure. Suffice it to say, that the room, and the book with its photograph are a metaphor for an existential threat to your own future. The nature of this danger lies within your consciousness. I might add that our present understanding of the nature of reality as an infinite number of coexisting universes is incomplete. To determine the danger to your future you must tease out the information from the text in the book.’

 

I was even more confused now - metaphor, existential threat, coexisting universes? At least it did confirm my conclusion that the man in the illustration was, in fact, me. I immediately looked at the book and tried to read the book shown in the image. I could just manage to read it; my short range vision is keen! To my amazement there were only a few words.

 

‘Secrets that you would only tell you closest friends.’

 

What on earth did it mean? Of course - it was a message for me! I started to think about the kind of indiscretions and embarrassments that I might disclose to my friends, particularly after a few drinks. That night when I got so drunk I pulled down my trousers and displayed my backside to all and sundry. Several others came to mind!

 

I then tried to look at the text on the book shown within that book. It was far too small too see. Damn! Then I had a good idea - I rummaged around in the desk and found a strong magnifying glass. With the aid of the glass the writing sprang into clarity. Again - only a few words.

 

‘Secrets that you would only keep to yourself.’

 

This worried me. I guess we all have done things we are ashamed of and choose keep to ourselves. They don’t have to be extreme acts such as rape or murder but cases of unkindness, cruelty or omission that we carry with us to our graves. We bury these memories deeply as they are too painful to bring into the light of day. They are like woodworm eating away and destroying the integrity of a wooden heart or a cancer destroying the body from within. I suddenly remembered that disabled boy in my primary class. I remembered when …..  I can’t even write it down. What I did was shameful but perhaps even worse was the nauseating sense of pleasure that I took from it.

 

Against my better judgement I carried on. I focussed on the tiny book shown within the book I had just examined. To my amazement the magnifying glass still allowed me to read the text.

 

‘Secrets that you can’t even reveal to yourself.’

 

My initial reaction was to laugh. How can anyone have secrets that they can’t even reveal to themselves? Then I realised that, of course, we bury the foulest stuff the deepest and somehow manage to forget about it. But they’re still there, like mines buried deeply, waiting only to be triggered.

For some reason I looked back at the tiny writing on the page - there was something I hadn’t noticed.

 

It happened on the night of your seventeenth birthday. You were walking back from the pub through the park and you’d drunk far too much. The moon was full and then the young girl you met smiled and said hello.

 

As I read this I failed to make any connection but the mention of the full moon suddenly triggered my memory and then all the sordid events of that night vomited into my consciousness like a tsunami - the smells of wet grass and my lust, the smell of blood as she bit my hand, the desperate drumming of her heels on the ground as I throttled her young dreams. I stood up with difficulty from the table, took a step back and wept.

 

Meanwhile, behind my back, the door handle turned silently and a man dressed in a dark blue outdoor jacket entered the room and closed the door silently. The intruder paused, pulled the sleeve back on his right wrist and checked the time on his silver watch. As if to confirm his true identity he fingered the raised skin on the heart shaped birthmark on his hairline. He watched the man before him weeping and silently slipped the sharp stiletto dagger from its sheath.

 

At that point I turned and we looked at each other long. The truth struck me then with shocking clarity - my nemesis had always lain within!

‘It’s you then.’

‘Yes, it’s time.’

I held the knife firmly and plunged it deeply through my ribs into my heart.

 

The next morning the hotel maid came to the room to bring new towels. She knocked, and hearing no answer, she opened the door which had been locked on the inside. When she entered, the scene confronting her had a sense of unreality and time seemed suspended as she stood silently taking it all in. The guest lay on his back on the floor in front of the writing table. The table was empty apart from the table lamp, the only source of light. A pool of dark blood puddled on the wooden floor and the guest’s left hand held a dagger impaled deep in his chest. She screamed.

 

Alan W Graham   

Reviews

[bookishmuggle]

Very well written. I loved the metaphors and the way you kept it short and to the point.
Whenever I read your stories there's always a "wow" moment at the end where my brain just kind of explodes XD and I love it.
Just wondering, in the full moon scene, did he kill the girl? Rape her? I wasn't sure.
Nice job Alan :)

[alanwgraham]

Thanks B for looking this up and reading. He raped and killed her. The whole section with the books and question was about him looking in his subconscious which finally led to him taking his own life. I didn't realise it but the theme has a lot in common with the man in the ocean story but with a different outcome.
Cheers,
Alan

[bookishmuggle]

Anytime! That is actually a very interesting observation. I didn't realize it either.

[Cyd]

One thing that slightly annoyed me because I’m annoying. Stilettos to me are the kind of knife that you unfolds, if it has a sheath I’m thinking of something that looks basically medieval.

One thing that took me out of the story slightly was that he,” I can’t even write it down.” And it suits the story well, it feels old school, in those older stories there’s always someone writing down scary things that happened to them, but here it goes away as he dies and yet we knows what happens when the maid found him.

I like when we get to explore the inside of people, that is usually where all the fun happens :D It was a “fun” read and it did get me to think about things that feel so distant now that they could have been a dream or just a story I heard as a kid. The mind is an interesting things. And you brought the mind up in the other story I read by you, and they both had an unseen “voice” talking to the MC, I smell themes in your writing :D

[alanwgraham]

Thanks Cyd. I chose a stiletto because it has a sharp blade and can penetrate deeply. Yes, perhaps ' I can’t even write it down' might be better as 'cant speak it'. I agree, you do have a keen sense of smell! The background is that four years ago I had a manic episode ( I am Bipolar) when I started writing and I couldn't stop. It was mainly free verse and it was like the filters had been opened to my subconscious. That kind of uninhibited writing stopped after a few weeks but I found that I was left with a more imaginative and lateral view of things.
I hope that makes some sense. I do prefer writing where the writer reveal something of themselves.
Have a great Christmas, Alan

[Lovecraft]

Damn, this story has some Lovecraftian elements to it. It's a very psychological story and I loved the beginning as it drew me in so effectively. I enjoyed the ending immensely, twas a dark ending.

Very short story that was written extremely well with a shockingly good ending.

[Kathrin S]

Wow, what an amazing story. I really liked the entire concept, especially the books inside the books. It's something that's always fascinated me. You built it up really well and the pacing was great. I also liked the way you described the character, he seemed real.
The only thing that confused me was that in the end, we find out he's in his hotel room. But in the beginning, he sneaks in, trying not to make the door squeak. That doesn't make sense to me - why would he sneak into his own room?

Technical observations:
- In general, some of your sentences are a bit long.
- Some repetition, e.g. in the first 2 paragraphs: desk, pulled.
- "I glanced around, the duvet" - I'd make 'The duvet' a new sentence.
- "I felt like I was beginning to lose my mind by now" - Consider putting a full stop there and starting a new sentence with 'Then,'
- "But they're still there, like mines buried deeply, waiting only need to be triggered." Cut 'need'

[alanwgraham]

Thanks for your very constructive suggestions. I will have a good think about them. The story kind of morphed from my initial plan as I was writing it. The story of the man entering the room and looking at the book is meant to be a metaphor for looking into your subconscious and discovering the nasty stuff hidden within. I'm not sure if that answers your question!
Thanks again,
Alan

[goddessofwriting]

Hello there!

From the beginning, I was impressed by how you introduced the character and his features. Most writers create imagery by simply describing how he/she looks, but the way you did it - I was amazed. It flowed so smoothly.
I (clearly) like how you used 'the photograph' to your advantage. And although the ending of this story filled me a deep sadness, the 'two people strategy' worked very well. The end was very sudden and unexpected; I'm presuming that's what you intended?

There are, however, a few things I would like to mention. I was captivated from the beginning, but once the swear was presented, my heart sunk in a way.
I feel as if you would get more readers (and especially if you were to publish this) by avoiding that. Instead of the actual word, 'he cursed' or 'he swore under his breath' would make it more professional and neat. I do understand that you are trying to make it clear how the character is feeling - a sadness mixed with confusion, which is then turned into anger (in a way). The rest of this piece definitely does succeed in doing so.

Also, throughout this I noticed a few sentences were a bit too long. The ideas presented in each one are perfectly fine, but 'tidying it up' would make those areas flow easier.

Thanks for posting, I'm looking forward to reading more!

Great work,

G.W.

[alanwgraham]

Thanks so much for taking the time to read this. I value your comments. I am very aware of the use of a swear word as I don't use them in my own speech. However I feel as a writer that you may have to describe many facets of life beyond your own experience. Also in some cases the use of swear words would be necessary. You have made a very good point about sentence length and I will check this out.
Regards
Alan

[goddessofwriting]

No problem! I thoroughly enjoy helping others along their writing journey.
Have a blessed day!

G.W.

[Pete]

You had me hooked from the start. This is such a good concept. Did you think of it in a cafe toilet a few years ago by any chance ;-) Even though the character was confused, I wasn't. You handled the idea well and kept it simple. I wouldn't be surprised to see this in a published book of short storys.

[alanwgraham]

Thanks pete. I found it tough fitting it all together. The toilet was on a trip to Poland and it just struck me it could help visualise the book within the book idea.
Cheers again, alan

[Thomas]

This is one of the first pieces I read that presents an impossible scenario for the reader to interpret. It gave me a pretty strong Twilight Zone vibe and that's a good thing. I liked it and I think you handled it well; I imagine it's very difficult to make a story puzzling, but not confusing. So I respect you for being able to pull that off so well! I'll further elaborate on the things I really liked and what I think could be looked at to change.

First thing I loved off that bat was your introduction paragraph. Reading it made me interested to see why this character was so cautious and encouraged me to read on. You even bring the reader to further curiosity when this tense moment is contrasted with a seemingly harmless book, making the reader interested in the book.

I also enjoyed the moment of "deja vu." I think it did well to further show the surreal nature of the situation and gave the impression that the narrator was confused because the reader was also confused. Your movement into psychology and the existential ideas brought up by the book was also interesting and do good for setting the underlying metaphor of self-grief and eventual suicide with repressed memories, very Freudian!. I'd break it down more, but I don't want overload you with compliments! Just know that the story was interesting, the flow was well, and the ending created a nice theme to the story.

I could only see two things that stuck out to me to change. The first thing is that the narrator questions "what on earth did it all mean?" twice in close succession in the story. It probably doesn't matter too much for the reader, but it stuck out to me as a writer because I tend of have repetition of words.

"They are like woodworm eating away and destroying the integrity of a piece of wood..."
This is the other thing that could be improved a little. I really like the simile you're presenting with the woodworm, but I think you can change it to make the image more vivid for the reader. A piece of wood is bland and image-less alone, and repeating wood in the same sentence is weird to read. I suggest changing the piece of wood to something more imaginable like an old rocking chair or something. You get what I mean?

Anyways, great story Mr. Graham. Thank you for sharing it.

[alanwgraham]

Thanks, Thomas for taking the time to write this very full and thoughtful crit. Your comment about the repetition was spot on and i should have picked it up. Your comment about the woodworm is great too and after a bit of thought i have decided to go with 'wooden heart' as it links in with his state of mind where he has buried the awful deed from the past. I think it works! I haven't tackled anything as complex as this and although I was getting confused myself I'm pleased i managed to bring it together.
Thanks again,
Alan

[Thomas]

I'm glad I could help. And wooden heart! Fantastic, that's a good choice.

[Terpsichore]

Gripping, well written tale; plus a lesson learned that no matter how deep a secret is buries, it will eventually surface.

Much enjoyed


T

[alanwgraham]

Thanks so much. I started this with another plan and it kind of morphed into this which has more of a moral.
Regards, alan

[Alice]

Gripping stuff. This could be a suspense film. I had a feeling as the story built up that he would be trapped in a book within a book, ad infinitem. I did not expect it to end that way,

[alanwgraham]

Thanks alice. When I started writing your idea was what I had planned but it turned out differently. I find that seems to happen a lot.
Regards,
Alan

[Pete]

I too thought the same thing as Alice. You took the right route though.

[Robert Francis Callaci]

I love the macabre and you do it well. This was a oddly odd story about a man who goes on a journey of self-realization and finds himself lacking.

He uncovered the beast that laid dormant for many years and was once again ready to come out and roar. He had enough decency to block the beasts path by killing himself once he willed himself to remember his lustful and venal nature was aching for another conquest.

An excellant write, enjoyed immensely.


warmest
bob

[alanwgraham]

Thanks Bob. I started this without a clear idea where it was heading and it morphed into something a bit strange. I'm glad you liked it.
Regards, alan