Dark

It was a year now, since his brother Marcus had passed away, and now John felt abandoned in the world. Since then, he had never heard of his other brother: Dark. That was not his real name, but that's what everyone called him, because of the  mournful and haunting sound of his pipes. No one else could play the war pipes like Dark. But more often than not, the comforting and familiar sounds were an omen to tragedy of the darkest kind.

John never believed that Marcus had drowned the night he left the village with his sweetheart Anny. They had fled to save her from the vengeance of Dark, who had a crush on Anny and swore an oath to marry her.

 John hoped Marcus was still alive. No, he did more than hope, at times he was convinced that Marcus was still in the land of the living.

John had thought about it long and carefully, and finally decided to leave his small farm. It was nothing more than a gray memory: the bleak heath, the blight that had lain on the crops so often, the rains and the dark days, the never-ceasing howl of the sea. It all weighed too much on him. Not only that, but it had oppressed him for as long as he could remember.

He had never loved the island, even when it was green and fragrant, and the sky blue and sweet.

He had been lonely for far too long. And tired. He was tired of the shadow that rested on his shoulders. He had cared deeply for Marcus, but he hated Dark passionately. He despised him intensely.

He sailed south, hoping to meet his dreamed happiness. He sailed away in the twilight. As the boat slowly left the harbor, John thought he saw a figure on the rocks, waving a black scarf. Who could that be? Perhaps his eyes had fooled him. Could it be that his father's ghost had risen to say goodbye to his son? Or was it a warning?

And then he heard it: low but clearly recognizable: the opening motif of the dance of death. A fright came over John. Maybe it had been someone who drowned here. He waited in breathless silence, trembling with fear. Maybe it was a Kelpie. Kelpies are said to sing tunes to lure sailors to their deaths.

The music became louder. There was a horrible suggestion in it. As if dead bodies moved with long jerks over the sea: crying wildly and laughing. John stood silently looking at the dim mass, from which a red glow appeared to float southward. It was as if eyes were watching him with a blood-red look.

What was that? It seemed as if somewhere on the island he was leaving behind, a house was on fire. 

John began to fear that he was under a spell.

John went ashore, and he was doing well. At first, that is. He bought a small farm with fertile soil, and soon he would buy even more land. He had his eye on a girl: Catherine. He loved her beautiful dark eyes. He felt it in his bones that she liked him too. A few weeks passed, and John had managed to meet her a couple of times. Finally, Catherine gave him her word that she would not want anyone else.

John was filled with joy. He floated through the days as if in a dream. Whenever he saw the wind play with the branches of a birch tree, or a wild rose bush, he thought of his Catherine and her grace. She was so lithe and tall, with a suntanned face. Her wavy, dark mass of hair, her shadowy eyes, and her mountain ash red lips. His love for Catherine grew day by day like a flower fed by rain and nurtured by sunlight.

But Catherine's father promised her to another man. She had to marry someone else. The old man told his daughter, he had heard that John was involved in a blood feud. He would not explicitly admit from whom he had received that information, but he had made sure that his daughter would marry as soon as possible.

That night, shortly after the moon had turned all white, Catherine slipped into a hazel grove and waited for John's arrival. In the middle of the lake, she saw a mist of green branches moving slowly over the surface of the water. She knew it was John coming to her. Hidden among the undergrowth, she waited for him: her lover. As he crawled out of the water, he stared at her longingly. This is how it went for many nights in a row. Catherine floated through the days as if in a dream. Even the arrival of her soon-to-be husband, whom her father had chosen for his only daughter, did not bother her.

One morning, a shadow entered the dairy, where Catherine waited for her bucket to be filled with milk. It was him: Liam. The man she was promised to. He seemed so big and strong. She looked at his thickly curled hair and sullen eyes. Catherine wondered if she would ever tolerate him.

-"Are you happy to see me?" Liam broke the ice.

"I'm glad you're home safely." she replied politely.

Liam looked at her for a few moments before continuing:

-"And? Do you love that man?"

Catherine shrugged indifferently:

-"I don't owe you an answer."

-"You are a fool, Catherine!" he growled.

-"Perhaps." she replied.

-"I could kill him." Liam threatened.

"Then I will die too." Catherine replied.

-"What a fool you are." he said again.

-"I wouldn't marry you if you were the last man in the world." she defended herself.

-"Your father promised you to me! If you really love him, you will get him out of here. Or else..."

-"Or else what?" she interrupted him.

"Then I solemnly promise that he will not breathe much longer." Liam clenched his fists as he spoke.

-"You are a coward." Catherine sighed.

With a muttered oath, Liam turned on his feet:

"He'd better watch out for me." You will be mine! By hook or by crook."

Catherine looked at him contemptuously. She lifted her milk bucket and walked out of the dairy.

From that day on, John was watched. Vengeful thoughts brooded through the loneliness of Liam's heart.

But what Liam did not know, neither John nor Catherine, was that on the north side of the island, yet another man was waiting for John. Another man who had sworn to make Catherine his own. A man who used to be called Dark, but now dwelled on the island under a different name.

It had rained continuously for three days, with a rough wind. On the fourth day, the sun shone and set in peace. An evening of quiet beauty followed: warm and fragrant. That very evening, in the absence of the moon, John had come earlier than usual to the undergrowth where Catherine hid. He was unable to wait for the evening's afterglow to wane. His ears caught the sound of careful steps. Could it have been Catherine's father? Or was it Liam following him like a hunter stalking a deer. John squatted and waited. He heard something rustle and saw a man standing across the road near the hazel groves. Someone was watching him from under the mossy ledge. He was unable to see clearly, but he was sure of it. He could feel it in his bones.

The dusk deepened and there was a dead silence. There was not a breath of wind. The cackling of a night bird cut through the darkness. A corncrake called out its monotonous cry and mosquitoes hovered among the sedges. Then there was the splash of a fish; then silence again. A rustling sound made its way through the dark…

A man lifted his head among the ferns and stared through the darkness, listening intently. He slipped silently into the water and swam slowly. He held something in his mouth, a long thing that glittered like a dead fish.

His movement was barely perceptible. No doubt, the swimmer was convinced he was safe from observation.

It was like a big salmon jumped up. There was a splash and a narrow dark body shot through the pitch-black night. There was a lengthy battle. Gasping screams rose from the water. A terrible scream rang out. Its echo blared with hideous clarity.

Something began to live in Dark's heart: joy! He had killed his brother, now he could return home. And he could take that Catherine too. Or maybe not. He smiled.

With these burning thoughts in his head, he swam slowly back to the shore. He slipped out of the water again and crawled back among the ferns. Just then, a third man went into the water.

Dark was startled when a hand touched his shoulder.

-"John. John." a woman's voice whispered. The next moment, she was in his arms. He could feel her heart beating against his.

-"John, I heard a terrible cry," she whispered, "What was that?"

He pressed his lips to hers and kissed her passionately.

Catherine withdrew. Her instinct warned her of danger.

-"Why don't you speak, John? What is it?" she asked anxiously.

He drew her back to him:

-"It is me! The one who loves you! I love you most. It is me, Dark!" he said smugly. With a scream, Catherine slapped him full in the face. He staggered and she freed herself:

-"You coward! Do not come any closer, or you will die!" Catherine cried.

-"You crazy foolish whore. I will be the death of you" he replied slimy.

-"John's coming soon." Catherine gasped.

-"Ha, ha." he laughed.

-"What are you laughing at ?" she asked.

-"I laugh at your dead lover!" Dark replied in a high-pitched voice. Catherine trembled with fear.

-"YES," Dark laughed on, "John is dead."

-"You are a liar." Catherine shouted.

-"Have you not heard his goodbye?" he asked mockingly, "It was loud enough, though."

-"That's a lie! A lie! You are a devil!" Catherine shouted even louder.

-"John died in his own way." he laughed, "perhaps he was overcome with cramps. Or perhaps he fell prey to a Kelpie. Ah, he was dead before he died. I have always loved you and I swore an oath on you. You are mine now."

-"Go away, you murderer!" Catherine screeched.

He jumped on her. She tried to hit him, but his arms held her.

Dark pulled Catherine's head back and kissed her throat, until a terrible breath sobbed against his ear. With a final desperation, Catherine screamed for John. Dark laughed aloud as he struggled with her.

-"Cry all you want! Call away! You belong to me. John is dead and long cold.”

Catherine fell backwards. Dark had let her go. He stood there frozen. What did this mean? A black mass appeared behind him.

There was absolute silence. A hoarse voice came from the darkness: it was John's voice.

Dark trembled. With earnest effort, he turned his head slowly. He saw a white spot. The face of a corpse. Two burning eyes: the eyes of the brother he had just killed.

He reeled, staggered like a blind man. Slowly, John raised his arm and pointed through the woods. Still pointing, he quickly moved forward.

With a beastly howl, Dark swung to the side, stumbled and leaped into the darkness.

John and Catherine stood listening to the crushing sound of Dark's flight: his race against the haunting shadow of the grave.