Immortals: A Lister Kane Noir

     Dahlia had a craving for something that most women craved daily; she was unfortunately living up to a worldwide stereotype, she was craving chocolate. Cravings were nothing new to Dahlia, she had had to overcome many craving during her life, chocolate being one of the lesser ones, one she didn’t really mind and was happy to indulge and so as she tidied the files sat in front of her, stood and neatened out her crinkled dress she considered those other cravings and how they had impacted her life. When she was a child she had craved the bitter taste of the coffee beans that grew metres above her head, as she had grown coconut milk became popular and then the two mixed together. She would scramble to the top of trees as a child and pluck them or knock them free from their branches, her mother would often yell at her when she arrived home with her arms full and her knees bleeding but Dahlia was a slave to her cravings. While sat back at her desk the chocolate melting on her tongue, Dahlia though of her most destructive craving, the one that had been so strong it had ruled her life. Dahlia had grown up in a tribe, one that had remained free from western culture from many decades, even centuries; as a child she would bask in the heat of the burning sun, her dark coffee bean coloured skin felt safe from the perils of the sun’s rays and when she over heated she would swim in the sea so blue it glittered with life or she would take refuge in the shade of the rubbery deep green leaves that thrived beneath the sky reaching trees of the un touched jungle. Her life was perfect and then change came though it were not in the form of westerners, touting technology and modernity it came in the form of death and destruction in its purest form; nature.

     Dahlia finished her chocolate, she absently opened one of the earlier tidied files and stared blankly at the writing as it blurred before her eyes. She had been 16 years old when it had started, things began to dye, it originated with the plants and spread to the smaller insects that fed upon them, then to the larger animals the insects bit or came into contact with and then it spread to the people who ate the animal meat because the crops they had grown had already perished, soon there was nothing we felt safe eating and then people began to turn on one another, those who were believed to carry the disease were targeted and slaughtered. Dahlias family had run, taken refuge wit- in the hollowed trunk of one of the many giant trunks that had fallen in the jungle and they hid and they began to starve. It was dahlias father who had died first, not from the disease but from the starvation and then her little sister had followed; it was her mother who had fought for her and her twin brothers, her mother who had introduced Dahlia to the most controlling, most delicious of her cravings. They had not eaten in weeks and other than the murky water that they collected when the rain fell hot and thick in sheets of tropical nourishment there was nothing else for them to consume and then her mother left them, she stood up one day and walked into the jungle in a direction that they had never before taken. Dahlia had not shouted after her for fear that someone might hear her and locate them, she just stood and watched, listening to the sound of her mother’s feet as they crushed the foliage beneath them until she could no longer be heard over the sound of the laboured breathing of her twin brothers; they were dying.

     Three days later her mother still had not returned, Dahlia could think of only two reasons for this, either her mother could no longer watch the people she loved writhe in agony as they were dragged screaming from the world or she had died herself. Dahlia tried to stay strong as she watched her brothers weaken and she herself was ready to leave and then something appeared through the sheeting rain, Dahlia huddled close to her brothers afraid of the ‘monster’ that she had convinced herself was coming for them, she scolded herself for being a coward and quickly righted herself, pulling the thick fallen tree arm from its resting place and gripping it tightly she stood, poised ready to attack. She dropped the weapon, it landed just shy of her right foot but she didn’t notice the near miss as her eyes were trained intently on something else, someone else; it was her mother and she carried something upon her back, a second person or rather their body for even from her standing point, Dahlia could tell that the second person was dead. The day her mother had returned was the day that Dahlias life had changed forever, she had staggered over to them and dropped the body she had been carrying and then she had collapsed. As she had lain shivering and feverish her mother had muttered only one word,

“Eat” she had choked out the word over dried lips and swollen tongue and then she had pointed toward the dead body. At first Dahlia had been shocked and horrified but when she looked back down at her mother she knew what she had to do. Dahlia moved on her knees over to where the body had fallen, as she touched the skin it felt warm still; this person had died not long ago. Dahlia found the sharpest thing she could which was a splintered piece of rock and she used it to carve pieces of flesh from the cooling body and that was when she realised something else, as she piled the flesh in a bloody mass Dahlia realised that she had no way of cooking the raw meat. She could not build a fire for fear that it might be seen and so the only option she had was to eat the meat raw; it was a possibility that the person had contracted the disease that had ravaged their island though she held none of the signs and since Dahlia had no other choice she collect a thick piece of the meat and began to carve it into thin strips before she crawled back over to her mother and gingerly began to feed her the raw meat. Her mother ate hungrily, quickly despite her fragile state and then she drifted in a sleep like none Dahlia had ever witnessed; she moaned and shook with a cold sweat soaking her skin, Dahlia didn’t know what to do for the best but she chose to feed her brothers in a hope that they would gain their health and she would not lose them.

     Her mother had not woken again nor had her brothers, they had, all three of them, passed away. Dahlia had spent hours upon hours digging graves for them, burying them, grieving for them and laying stones upon their final resting places. Though she had not been able to grieve fully for the loss of her family; men came with spears and knives and Dahlia had had to run, carrying with her the remaining meat that she had picked clean from the bones, she had also buried the dean, unknown woman feeling that she deserved the respect. Dahlia had not been able to find out how her mother had come across the dead woman but she had a sickening feeling that she had in fact been the one who had killed her. As she ran from the men and their weapons Dahlia felt something with-in her change, she felt herself speed up running like she had never run before and soon she was miles from the men on a part of the island that she had never before come across. She had feasted on the meat before she had left the camp and now she felt more alive than she had ever felt before; her tribe had had a belief, one that she had, herself, never before believed in, they believed that if one were to consume the flesh of another then they also consumed their soul, their life force; Dahlia believed that this had happened that she had, by eating the flesh of the dead woman, taken into her body the life of the woman and by doing so she had added to herself the strength of the woman, the health and the spirit.                 

Run, run as fast as you can...

I won’t lie to you all when I first started to write this I wanted to show you all something, something about the nature of man, the evil that exists with-in us all, some of us over come this evil the good with-in if much stronger, in some the evil is nurtured by those around us, our environment, some like me fall into evil when all good has abandoned us and some are simply born without good, pure evil. That’s how it started, then it evolved into some form of confession and now it is simply an account of the evil I do. I am no longer fighting it, I have lain in the bed of evil, curled up, snuggled in and settled and I shall not be climb out again. so what follows will be blood, it will be dark and I shall not apologise for it.         I have become fascinated with the female detective investigating my ‘horrific’ crimes, I watched at night and thought my in-human body no longer requires sleep I find myself drifting off and dreaming of her golden hair. It is not love that I am feeling, I know this, I am no longer capable of love, what I am feeling is obsession, it may even be lust. I find myself wondering what her flesh would taste like, buttery and sweet, like crumpets straight from the toaster, the butter melting, seeping through the bottom, she makes my mouth water. In desperate need to see her, to watch the gears of her mind tick, tick away as she wonders about me, I find myself prowling the streets not just for food, I watch the streets, the apartment blocks, the houses. Watch and wait until I find someone deserving enough and then I find someone or rather a group of ‘someone’s’. As I walk down the street I spot a group of young men harassing a woman, I knew what was on their mind, I could smell it and I could smell the fear pricking her skin. At first I was going to simply walk on by but then I saw a glimmer, caught the shine of a silver blade in the corner of my eye and that stopped me dead in my tracks; there was no way this woman was leaving the night alive.
     There is a small amount of humanity that urns just beneath the darkness with-in me and that’s why I walked up to them, my face blank, the fog that had hung in the air seemed to descend and thicken, I looked as a spectre would moving through the streets of smog covered 50’s London. I startled them, at first they looked as though they were unsure I was real or not and then they acted, the woman was thrown back and gagged by the hand of a man I could not quite see, and then I was confronted by the three others one stood slightly further forward then the others holding the knife, the alpha.
“move on” he growled holding the knife forward ensuring I had seen it, I had and it made no difference to me, I would snap the blade and then  would snap his neck. I move forward and he signalled for the two men flanking him to make their move a grin spread across my face and I think then even he realised though he made no move to stop his men and no move as my fist connected with one man’s jaw, the crack was audible it rang down the alleyway and out into the street, his face looked as though it had been twisted, I ripped the broken jaw from his face and as he began to pass out from the agony I broke his neck letting his body slump to the floor with-in the shadows, the other two men had run and so I turned my attention to the Alpha who was now holding the woman as some form of protection, the woman was screaming behind the hand clamped over her mouth not in fear of the knife held against her throat but instead from the horror of what she had just seen me do, I ignored her,
“I will slit her throat if you don’t let me walk out of her with her, you sick fucker” he spat the words at me, he seemed to hold no sadness for his fallen friend, this man was like me cold and dead inside, he had no soul his only though at that moment was survival unfortunately mine was not and I was not going to let him walk away with the woman nor was I going to let him leave the alleyway alive.
     I made my move before he made his, my palm grapes the blade of the knife, snapping it, we both let go letting it fall to the floor with a tinkle; next my palm was around his throat, his hands fell from the woman, she stood frozen in fear of me,
“Run” I hissed, the words jolted her to life and she took off down the alleyway and into the light of the street lamps, “Run, run as fast as you can…” I yelled after her a wide grin on my face, “…but you won’t out run me I’m the bloody bogey man” I hissed in the ear of the man I held by the throat before I ripped it out, I held his windpipe in my hand for a few seconds as I watched the life leave his body and then I used my own switch blade, the handle set with human bone, to carve as much as I could carry before I left them and returned home.
      I chose not to watch the crime scene, to wait for her and instead simply read of the murder’s in the newspapers over the next few days. The woman I had let go had given the m a description of me, an image had been drawn up, it did not look like me; I find myself wondering if she lied, I knew that she had looked upon my face, a face that would have been burned into her mind and so I wonder if she lied to keep me safe because I saved her, humanity is a confusing thing. Though she did tell the police something, something that the newspapers know and that now the whole world will know, my name, she must have hung back hidden around the corner, she must have heard me because now the whole world knows that I, the bogey man, I am real and I am in the darkness waiting.     

Back in black...

      Now that we are all caught, I know I may have missed a few years out there but all you need to know is that I went away, that physically I vanished for a short while. I say only physically because in spirit I went absolutely no where, in spirit I lived on in the minds and dreams of those children still getting mummy or daddy to check under the bed, those sleeping with the light on and even in some of the minds of those parents who reluctantly checked under the bed and kept their own light shinning while they slept, no I never truly went away. Now that I am back, I must catch you up on my recent activities, you see I have once again been up to no good. It began when I returned to England, London specifically, I had hardened, my soul become even blacker since my loss of love and happiness and I had fallen into the abyss a few years before now, I have become what I once was again, worse. I must admit to you all right now that I love it, the feeling, the freedom, the purest of evil flows through my blood and entwines with my soul. My first since arriving back was a man, he wore a smart black suit and crisp white shirt beneath, diamond cuff links and red tie; everything about him was perfect and neat, not a hair out of place nor a wrinkle in the fabric covering his body. I’m not sure why I chose him, he had this air of superiority about him, acted as though he were a king amongst men and I simply took a disliking to him. I followed him late one night, from his office full of lavish items of no use and back to his apartment. I waited then until the next day, watched him leave and then I snuck into his home. The rooms were just a lavishly filled with useless objects, his bed linen silk and slippery, it looked un-lived in though the fridge was stocked with thick cuts of steak and wedges of stinking French cheeses, on the rack sat bottles of deep burgundy wine, next to it stood whiskeys and gins, their crystal cut glassed waiting to be filled beside them. I remember laughing a hearty laugh, which I’m sure could be heard by the downstairs neighbour, thinking of the frivolity that this one place was filled with and how times had changed…for some.

       I waited for him all day, helped myself to a meal of raw steak and a bottle of the finest red, though nothing tasted as good as he did. When he finally arrived home at around 9:30, tossed his jaguar keys onto the counter and laid eyes upon my dirty dished his mouth dropped open, he picked up a large, previously unused carving knife and held it to his front,

“Whoever is there!” he yelled!” I am calling the police right now!” he added, I heard the first dial of a 9, he got no further than dialling the second when I pounced upon him like the animal that I am. I had the knife from his grip a second later, his eyes still wide with shock and fear as I slid the sharp blade across his throat. The phone fell from his hand, he tried to speak, to maybe ask why but only gurgles escaped his paling lips. I allowed him to die fully before I began to carver slivers of flesh from his body, some I ate as a meal with yet another bottle of his burgundy and the rest I packed and took home, though to be honest it didn’t take me long to get through. I read all about my ‘crimes’ in the news paper two days later, I walked past the apartment; police tape, people in white, uniforms and the female detective working the case, my case. I watched her, never before had I had a woman chasing me and she was beautiful. I had never seen a woman more beautiful, well I had but only once before, now I had to kill and I wanted to kill, my only reason being that I now had a need to see her again.    

A Love too good to last

     Marisol and I fell in love instantly, it felt differently to anything I had ever felt before; that day I kissed her on a whim became the most wonderful of my life and sure many people gained fame from it, claiming they were us but we didn’t mind; we had each other. We married only a few months later and stayed in San Francisco, I got a job in a garage and she remained a nurse working with the vets, I couldn’t have been happier, my dark days were behind me, I finally had someone to change for though I could not fully change. I told Marisol everything, nearly everything, the one thing I could not bring myself to tell her was who I truly was; how do you tell your wife that you over centuries old, that you have feasted on every kind of human flesh, children and their mothers, husbands and wives. How do you tell her that you are the bogey man, the dark shadow every child fears and sings about, the monster in the wardrobe, under the bed waiting to pounce and swallow you up. No, I could not tell her though my plan was flawed; I do not age, I do not die, I do not get ill nor do I suffer greatly from injury I am in-human, a monster, a myth; I could not break her heart. Yes I knew that one day she would notice that something was wrong and I knew that I would have to tell her then but I decided that I would deal with that when I came to it and I hoped that it would not be for many years and this worked perfectly; she may have noticed that my hair did not grey, that wrinkled did not crisscross my face, my bones did not begin to ache and that I did not suffer from disease or virus but she never mentioned it, she simply loved me.

    Our love flourished for 20 years, no children were ever bore but we were happy as far as I know I am unable to father a child, probably a good thing. Instead we owned many pets great and small and we built a beautiful home. Marisol retired early and opened a florist and we were so happy, so content; I could have remained that way forever unfortunately it was not to be and fate once again intervened in my life, punishing me for many a life time of sins.  

     I didn’t retire, though we had the money, I have accumulated quite a bit over the many years of my life but I didn’t want to retire I wanted to keep every human thing I could, grip hold of it and keep it close this was to be my downfall. On a normal day my whole world was crushed, literally, I had been working on a car when the lever had given way, the car plunged down upon me, it crushed my entire middle, I could not breath, I tasted the iron of blood in my mouth and upon my lips and I thought I was actually going to die. Usually I would have been happy, I would have welcomed this but on that day I begged not to, I had gained everything I wanted and I was not ready to give it up and I did not. An injury that would have killed a normal human being with-in seconds did not take my life; I was rushed to the hospital, operated upon and watched over by my love and I woke up though my chances had been dire. I recovered in record time, I baffled doctors and geniuses and I terrified my wife. When I returned home I knew something had changed, she did not want my touch, she did not even want to look upon me and I could see the terror in her eyes,

“what are you?” she asked me gravely and I so desperately wanted to lie, fain shock and confusion but I loved her too much to do that and so I told her the truth, I began with the beginning, I watched as her face turned from terror to disgust to shock and disbelief, from anger and heartbreak to rage and to nothing. Counted the tears as they streamed down her face and I had to hold myself back from embracing her in my arms. She had asked me why and I knew to what she referred, why had I let her fall in love with me, make a life with me but I could not answer her. I wanted to make her feel better, I wanted her to turn to me and say she didn’t care, she didn’t care that I had consumed enough humans to start a small country, that she didn’t care that I was never going to grow old but she did not. Instead she walked away from me, my heart shattered into a thousand pieces and I fell to my knees.

     I remained on my knees until she returned, in her hand was my suitcase,

“you leave tonight and I never hear from you ever again, do you understand? She had asked

“yes” I answered knowing that there was nothing I could do or say to change her mind, “why” I had added and she knew what I was asking

“because no matter how hard I try or how much you revolt me I love you, loved you, now leave” she said a single set of tears toughed at her eyes, millions fell from mine. I took my case and I left, I left the country the next morning and returned back to England, my heart was broken, my soul had shrivelled and I could feel a familiar tugging with-in my stomach.

     Marisol died 10 years later, cancer took her, I had never gone against her wish, though I did occasionally look to see what she was doing; she never re-married, never found love again, though she did remain a successful florist. I went to her funeral, hung back in the shadows and watched from afar, I did not cry, I think by then I could no longer cry but I missed her, I place a single yellow rose upon her grave when she had been left by her mourners and said once more how sorry I was for all I had done before I met her, for all I had done to her, for all I had done since I had left her and for all I would do.        

The world at war...again

Every so often the world, our world is plunged into darkness and the good have to fight, they have to go to battle and those who may not have seen eye to eye in the past have to join together and stand side by side on the bloody battle field, 1939 was a year of great darkness. The world had already survived one world war and people had just gotten used to the idea that everything was okay when whispers of war began to spread. I had high tailed it back to England, a new identity and a new life ready when I heard, I saw women hysterical in the street, men and boys lining up once again to fight and children quiet with confusion. Now I know that I could write this whole account without once mentioning the name of the man who spawned this war because his name is so well known, so well taught and well spoken and that name is Adolf Hitler.  Adolf Hitler was born on 20^th April 1889 to an Austrian father who he despised and a German Mother who, some people have theorised, was to blame for his unimaginable god complex. His dream was one of Art and he applied to many art collages, all rejected his applications leaving him penniless and selling hand-made postcards in Vienna this subsequently led him to become involved in much political activity; you might be wondering how I know this, I lived a lot of your history yet I cannot tell you the birth date of many great figures, Hitler was something else and I will tell all later on. Now back to Adolf’ rise to power; Hitler left Austria to evade military service and ended up in Germany where the course of his life changed forever, he signed up to fight in the first world war. After the first world war he became involved in the political publicity of the German workers party which he renamed the National Socialist German Workers Party (Nazi for short) he soon became the leader for the party and remained so until he was imprisoned. However once released he re-found the party after this things began to snowball, he became a German citizen, then chancellor and then after a fire and a general election Hitler’s cabinet was given power making him a virtual dictator; this is where he declares the Nazi party the only political party permitted in Germany. From this individual German states lost power and Nazi officials became state governors.      Still with me? I’m getting there but to understand what happened to me you have to know the history, know the man who nearly brought a world to its knees.  Now I don’t want you to think that I have forgotten my legacy, that of the bogeyman but I have lived for so long that the event of the world have knocked me from my pathway, I find my way back eventually though, so bare with me.  
     Over the next 2 years Hitler banned the communist party, socialist, trade unions and strikes; he withdrew from the league of nations and somehow trebled the size of the German army, he eliminated his rivals became Fuehrer and Reich chancellor of Germany, abolished the title of president and in order to unite the German peoples he rearmed Germany and introduced Military conscription.

     Some people say that the British Prime Minister was naïve to think that he could negotiate with Hitler and some people knew this for a fact but it didn’t stop Britain, France and Italy signing the Munich agreement, handing Sudetenland to Germany. Then came Crystal Night: 7,500 Jewish shops were destroyed and 400 synagogues are burnt, all orchestrated by the Nazi party who also sent 20,000 Jews to concentration camps. After this the Nazis spread like a plague and on 3^rd September 1939 two day after the German army invaded Poland and refused to withdraw, British Prime minister Neville Chamberlain announced that the country was at war, similarly France also gave the Germans an ultimatum, one which was also ignored causing France to also declare war. I remember where I was that day when the announcement rang out across the airways; I knew it was coming, so many did and yet when it came my heart hurt so much I thought it might actually stop, no such luck. I join up as soon as I could, I had a lot to make up for, a lot to repent for. In 1940 the man that saved the world stepped up as British prime minister, Winston Churchill, we couldn’t have done it without him.

     I met many people during the war, young boys and bereft mothers, I met German troops terrified for their lives, they just wanted to go home; young boys dragged into a war they didn’t want to fight by a twisted man. I met Hitler once, that’s where this story was going, right before he died, I had been captured and tortured and he had been alerted to the fact that I was something different and he wanted me, like a child demanding to have a toy, he wanted to keep my like a possession. I sat a cross from him one night, at a table and listened to him able on and on about life, he seemed almost euphoric, convinced that he was going to win even as his world was being torn down; he was this deluded man with an ego that had been fed so much there was barely room for anything else. Where I had felt despise and hatred I felt sorry for him, he was pathetic, sat in this grand room with his own image 12ft high on the wall, with red and gold draped around him and still he was so sad. I wonder now what might have been different if he had been accepted into art school, how the world might have been different or maybe he was destined to do what he did.
      Then war was declared on America, Pearl Harbour happened, more tragedy and more death, I thought about the friends I had left, wondered if they were there ready to fight. it was the Americans who saved me, not that I wouldn’t have just waited, waited until he had run, like a roach from the day light. Hitler had hightailed it when the American had invaded; all I remember was the sound of their accent, I saw their guns before I saw them. After that it was all a blur, Hitler killed himself, the war was diminishing again, millions of lives had been lost, had been taken and millions had to begin the fight to repair, to return to a relative normalcy. I stayed with the troops who had saved me, went back to America, but it was far from over, Japan was still raging a war with America and I chose to fight with them. You would think that I had had my share of fighting but I owed them, the fight didn’t last much longer and three months after the war in Europe had ended America declared victory over Japan. All over the world was celebrating, it was united in victory, we had defeated one of the most evil men to have ever breathed but now we had to start again.
     Now is where I get to the part you will all sit and go ‘oh my god, that was you’, the 15^th August 1945, VJ-Day, Time Square, New York. I was stood amongst a mass of people celebrating, victory had been announced, I stood overwhelmed by the sheer euphoria and elation, I saw a woman in the crowd, with eyes so blue they twinkled as tears of happiness rolled down over her blushed cheeks, her lips were painted with a deep red and her hair was made up perfectly, she was a nurse, walking alone through the street; in that second I acted on impulse it was a time to take a chance; I walked over, she smiled at me unawares; I kissed her and together we created one of the most iconic imaged of the 1940s. Many people have claimed to be that nurse, that sailor, that couple and I have let them, I did not feel the need to stand up, from that moment I gained something much more precious, a gained the love of a woman, I gained happiness.  

The eye of the storm

     I had found myself in America, In the midst of New York City, the war had ended though over the world countries were still suffering, Germany and Great Britain were suffering greatly, America however seemed to be prospering, its streets were line with gold and glittered with opportunity and with the birth of the 1920s the world was on the verge of great change. I had fought through my addiction during the war and now lived a relatively normal life, I owned a luxurious home and all of the finest things a man could need, yes the 20s was a time for freedom and fun, women wore revealing dresses, they smoked, they drank and they danced the night away; life was good once more. Though in America it was viewed as being a little too good, with the men  who had been away fighting, who had lost their lives fighting officials were worried that young men without any stability or rules may ‘lose t’ so to speak and so Prohibition was born. What is it? Not good is what it was, Prohibition meant that the making, distribution and consumption of alcohol was illegal and anyone found partaking in any of these activities was arrested by a special branch of the police force. Unfortunately as many of us know when you tell someone not to do something they are much more likely to do it and Prohibition was no different. Illegal still were formed, alcohol was brought across borders and sold for extortionate prices, men who drank, drank more, many drank spirits and even those who had never touched a drop began to drink and it lead to the making of some of the most notorious criminals.

     Now I’m going to go off on a tangent here so bare with me, I am going to tell you a story, a story about a man by the name off John H. Dillinger Jnr. Born, June 22 1903, died, well that’s why I’m sharing this little story with you. From around 1933-1934 John Dillinger became one of the most notorious criminals known; forget Capone, bonnie and Clyde and don’t even consider baby face and pretty boy; Dillinger cast a shadow across all of them, he was ruthless and mean but most of all he had liquid charisma flowing through his veins. Many people loved Dillinger because he did not rob the poor, after prohibition was repealed in ’33 gangs simply turned to other ‘hobbies’ such as gambling, prostitution and loan sharking plus with the damaged and misery that had come with the depression an old type of criminal made a comeback and with it came Dillinger; it became the time of the armed bank robber. When I say Dillinger was loved because he did not rob from the poor I mean he robbed from those who got rich by robbing the poor and in today’s society I’m guessing there are more than a few Dillinger fans out there. Dillinger eluded the police for over a year before he was wounded though still managed to escape, though a few months later on July 22^nd  John Dillinger was shot dead by federal agents; or so they reported.
     Now this is where the tangent rejoins the main story, if I told you that John Herbert Dillinger was in fact alive and kicking though walking with a slight limp; would you be surprised considering the story so far. Over the length of time I’ve been alive, in order to live a relatively normal life and once I had broken free of the ‘habit’ I had to change names, discover new identities and I also regrettably fell into the darker parts of being a human, I went to jail, I murdered and not to eat and I became John Dillinger. I created a whole life for him, a birth, a family back then it was easy, men though dead during the war were finally coming home alive, it was simple for me to turn up and declare than I was in fact John Dillinger Jnr, parents were so distraught at the loss that they accepted it, a son had returned. Life was good during the 20s, id been married and happy but when the depression hit everything seemed to fall apart, I couldn’t return home, I had no job and so I did what a lot of men though about, I attempted a robbery and ended in jail. After that things spiralled and John Dillinger became notorious, he became loved.
     You’re probably wondering who died that night, well the federal agents had become angry, they were pissed they had been made fools of during the prohibition and now the whole country was overrun by gangs and robbers and so they needed a win and that came in the form of me. Unfortunately when Ana Cumpanas attempted to turn me over I heard her, I sent someone else to that theatre and when I didn’t come out they decided to take out the other guy and they lied. Now I took the chance and I disappeared, got a new life; the majority of the world believed I was dead, the feds got a win and my life was about to start again. I left America that night bound for England amidst fears and threats of a new world war; it felt like the eye of the storm was finally passing and life was about to shatter once again.        

             

A new world burns

On 28^th June 1914 a Austrian Archduke next in line to the throne and his wife were shot dead by a Serbian terrorist, now I did not witness this event and normally would likely have never heard about it, unfortunately, over years alliances had been made and tension had built; the Austrians had been waiting for a reason to take on Serbia and they had been given one. Unfortunately Russia mobilised in support of the Serbs which led to the involvement of Germany and France and less than two months after the fatal assassination the world was plunged into the First world war. It spread quickly, young men were sent to fight, sent to die and those who didn’t were killed by their own for cowardice; I watched it unfold, I saw the death toll rise, saw the evil that men did without conscience and for the first time I felt sick, I was sickened by the what the world had become, by what humanity was capable of and I was sickened by myself, for the first time I thought about what I did, what I had done and I decided it was time to change. Change was not easy, I had spent years watching people struggle with change, fight against it and now I was suffering my own battle against it. When I couldn’t stand my own demons any longer I joined up to fight some.
The battle of the Somme began July 1^st 1916 and I along with many came face to face with some of the heaviest German fortification; the battle was bloody and savage, there were 65,000 British casualties alone on the first day and the battle did not give up until late October. Rain washed away the blood and pain of the men who had died, those who had come so close to losing everything, by that time there were 400,000 British casualties and 200,000 French and only a small amount ground had been gained for such a huge loss of life. I continued to fight, in those days you did not abandon your country. In 1918 when there seemed no end, hope came, thousands had been lost trying to advance upon the Germans and little to no ground had been gained and when, on the 21^st March the Germans launched a 6,000 gun barrage and gas attack leading to 350,000 casualties new troops were rushed in from across the channel, America finally joined the war. The first great war ended late November 1918 when the only German who had kept fighting finally surrendered leaving the world in devastation. It was now time to start the return to a normal life, to start to rebuild and recover and I was right in the middle of it. 

A new world

'Here comes the bogeyman dressed in black, stealing children, a loaded sack on his back.
Upon a tiny mound of bones he likes to sit, picking his teeth removing fleshy bits,
If you are naughty or tell a lie, if you disobey or cry, then you may be next to die.'
 
The children chanted this, every village I passed through every rhyme I heard, they were terrified of me, though they did not know this. They believed the bogeyman to wear a shroud of shadows, his face distorted, his figure long and ragged and his fingernails sharp and jagged dripping with the blood of naughty children. That is what I had become a deterrent for naughty children but I was far from what they believed me to be, I was normal, I looked normal I did not eat naughty children, I just ate and I know that is just as bad but children tasted so good. Their flesh was tender and succulent un-tarnished by drink and by gluttony or sin; I developed a habit, one that long out-lasted the witch trials and the 17th century. In fact I pandered to my addiction far into the 19th century, I travelled the length of England until I had reached the end, until I had feasted upon a child or three from every region and then I spread my legs and my legend even further. I sailed the globe, I ate dark meat and light, young and old. I had one near miss with a boat of travellers during the late 1800s however no bodies simply meant no crime that added to an un-solve able mystery meant I had once again gotten away with it.
What I must mention now is that I am not an ancient old man with a scruffy white beard and thin brittle bones, I am simply eternally young. I am not sure when I stopped ageing, I think it was in my 25th or 27th year, what I am sure of is the cause; my diet. When I figured this out, as you can understand, I was terrified that if I stopped eating the food I was that I may begin ageing once again and back then I had grown too fond of the perks of having a young and handsome appearance.
     I carried on with my 'wild' ways for many centuries, I met and broke the hearts, some literally, of many beautiful women, I feasted upon exotic flesh and I watched the world change before my very eyes; I watched countries go to war with themselves, saw the bloody civil wars unfold and , I hate to say, I reaped the benefits. I saw horse and cart become near obsolete, I watched people circle the world in less time than it took to sprout a seedling, I saw them fly and drive on four wheels, I spoke to people on the other side of the world in a matter of minutes and listened to people on the radio. I watched great big, ugly brick buildings spring up over night to spew toxic smoke into the clean air and I watched plagues eradicate whole towns, whole civilisations. After the things I had witnessed growing up and living through centuries nothing bothered me so much anymore, I was in essence a monster myself and I continued to be, without conscience or regret, until I witnessed the world begin to turn on itself, to ravage its young men and it’s green lands, to rip life away and destroy peace. I had never before witnessed anything on such a scale, I had watched wars unfold because of material things and religion but never because of greed, because of revenge or wealth not on such a scale.

Meet Lister Kane

Here comes the bogeyman dressed in black…

    I’m Lister, Lister Kane and I am the bogeyman; I say ‘the’ in the sense that I am the one and the only one bogeyman in the world. I am evident in every culture, in every corner of the world there will be a story, a legend, a myth regarding a man, a man who will take naughty children and punish them, in some cases eating their flesh and gnawing on their bones. I’m not denying this, we all have to begin somewhere but what we begin as we do not necessarily remain and so here I am to tell you my story, the story of Lister Kane.

    I was a child once, I was conceived and I was carried and I was born but the world I was born into was vastly different that the world today, in fact it could have been an entirely different planet but no such look, I was simply born during another time, a time of witches and hunters, of famines and village devouring diseases, the date of my birth: 31^st October 1587.  My mother died during child birth and my daddy hated me, he despised me and so on my 6^th birthday he abandoned me, I don’t mean that he died, I mean he walked away one day and never looked back. I was left in a crumbling home, in a village being ravaged by a disease of no name and no cure; so there I was alone, no food, no friends and possibly going to die.  I watched the villagers drop one by one, bodies piled up, no one would come to help for fear of the death and those who were no taken by illness starved to death, I was quickly becoming the latter. I had exhausted my supply of food, I had even ventured into the homes of the dead, where others would not and took their food; now desperate for food I wandered into the surrounding woodland, it was the dead of winter, snow was knee high and fell still, in thick, soft flakes, I had not only taken food from the dead but also furs and blankets, they no longer had a need for them but I did. I had wrapped so many blankets around me that I resembled a boy six times my size, I waddled along, struggling in the snow, my feet frozen and my finger tips turning blue, I found berries that tasted bitter and washed the taste away with snow, I chewed on twigs and bark; I had hoped to chance across a dead rabbit or hare or even a bird fallen from the sky but I found none, I walked deeper and deeper, the day grew dark and finally the snow ceased to fall.

     I began to give up, tired, my legs protesting, I sat on a fallen tree, the collected snow melted with my body heat, soaking through the layers of blankets, I shivered, my stomach growled and gurgled; I wanted to sleep and had begun to allow my eye lids to fall shut when I saw it; a crow. A jet black crow as big as a small feline, it pecked and clawed at the ground, jabbing and pulling at something buried beneath the snow. I shed a few of my blankets, no more awake than I had been when I had sat down, I crept, a stolen knife in my small hands, toward the unassuming bird; had I been able to see my path beneath the snow I may have taken the bird however I stumbled on a large boulder buried beneath the white blanket and was sent sprawling through the air, I landed close to the bird which fled into the sky something hanging from its beak. I was angry, I flung the stick into the air after it, my ankle ached where it had caught the stone and my front was soaked through. I was ready to give up, return to my broken home when my curiosity called me back, back to whatever the crow had been so enthralled by. When I looked down into the hole created by the crow, I saw a nose, a blue tinged nose, an empty eye socket, I dug frantically, my fingers ached by the time I had cleared enough snow to see who was beneath, my father.

     I had never expected to see him again, I believed that  he would have found a new home by now, he was happy, safe but he was not, he had fallen in the woodland, lame and starving, when the first snow had fallen he had frozen to death; I will be honest I did not cry a tear for him, I did not mourn for him, I hated him, I was happy that he had died in the woodland like an animal it was more than he deserved, in my opinion. I was now ready to return home, still hungry but now a little happier than I was when I set out I turned and took a step but was again pulled back by something by the crow. I thought about what the crow had been doing, eating, it had been using my father as a source for food, why couldn’t I do the same. It may seem strange to eat human flesh but when you are so starving, so cold anything will suffice; I scrapped back snow until I found his lower body, his stomach and legs, it took me a while to saw through the frozen flesh which had been preserved by the weather, but when I had I held in my hand a thick piece if stomach flesh, pale and white on the outside but deep red on the inner, I sucked it into my mouth, it tasted of iron as it melted on my tongue and once I had consumed it I felt satisfied, a cut more and more from the body washing it down with snow, compared to what I had been eating it tasted like heaven. Once I had had my fill, rather than leave the body to the wildlife, I cut as much meat as I could, packed it in snow and carried it back to my village in one of the blankets. There were so few people left that no one noticed, if they did they didn’t care what I was doing, most were fleeing or dying and so I was left alone. 

     I had enough meat to last me 1 whole month, with 1 meal a day, I still evaded the death that had befallen the rest of my village which had fallen empty, dead bodies were buried beneath snow and home were left to rot but I was thriving, the only thing, I grew tall and stronger, I had never before in my six years felt to good; then the food ran out, I began to feel hunger quickly, hunger like I had never felt before, I felt ravenous there was no food left, no meat, nothing but my body was screaming to be fed, I foraged berries and foliage but nothing dampened my hunger I needed meat, I wanted flesh. In my desperation I turned to the dead buried beneath the snow, their diseased limbs turned my stomach but my mouth still watered at the thought of flesh, of thick red meat. I was just about to slice into a body when I heard a voice calling for any sign of life, I turned to see a man, he pulled a horse behind him, he was tall and thick haired but most notably he was alone. My stomach growled in anticipation, I stood hiding the knife behind my back, leaving the rotten flesh of the dead, I moved toward my next meal.