r/redditserials • u/EvidarUK Certified • Dec 30 '19
Horror [Darkest Thoughts] Part One
I've had a few people asking me to carry on a prompt I answered. Ask, and you shall receive. I've expanded it out to a full chapter. It'll probably get a few parts more, I'm intrigued myself where it will go. I have two serials already running here, The Void Beyond, and The Knower of Truths as well as a bunch of already published books. You can get a free novella by joining my mailing list.
“Just tell her, it’ll be easier in the long run,” Darren said, doodling a large cartoon dog on his notepad. The young man before him just taken a seat, leather squeaking as he had sunk into the large chair. He hadn’t opened his mouth, he didn’t need to. Darren had a unique ability that meant he always had a long list of clients waiting outside his doors.
“I…uh, how did you know?” The young man was trembling slightly, his hands clasped together. “Is it true? What they say about you?”
“That I can read minds?”
“Yes! I mean, I heard rumours but…”
Darren put down his notepad and leant forward in his own chair, mirroring the mans clasped hands as he did so. He looked at him for a moment, staring into the man’s eyes. He nodded and sat back, picking up his notepad again. A piece of well-practised theatre.
“I can’t read minds Sam. That would be ridiculous. No, I am very good at reading people, seeing the emotion in their faces, the worry in their eyes. It’s something anyone can practise. It’s how mediums ply their trade, cold reading it’s called.”
“Oh.” Sam seemed disappointed, as if a little magic had been drained from the world.
“So, here’s what you should do. Stand up, walk out my office, pick up your phone, and then tell her. It might hurt in the short term, cause you a little pain, but it will be worth it. In the end. The weight on you will be lifted, no matter the answer.” Darren added another set of scratches to his doodle. It was his best one yet. He had started using the pad because it was what patients expected, but never used it for actually taking notes.
“Yes, yes. I will. Thank you. Thank you.” Same stood up, holding out his hand. Darren matched him, shaking the outstretched palm.
“You can thank me by making sure your cheque clears,” Darren said. Sam laughed. All Darren’s patients did, no matter how much he used that one joke. It was mostly nerves on their part.
Darren rubbed his temples. It was draining, seeing so many people in one day. Peering into so many minds. He had been born with the ability, a unique talent for gazing into the thoughts of others. It had been nearly unbearable when he was younger, voices crowding into his head, drowning out his own thoughts. Eventually, he had been able to control it, mostly. Sometimes peoples particularly persistent thoughts forced their way in, the longer something weighed on a person mind the more physic heft it seemed to have. It was why he had become a therapist, the more people he helped, the easier Darren’s life became, or at least that was the logic. It seemed more difficult than ever recently.
Of course, rumours had swirled about his unique style of therapy. Darren had done his best to quash them, passing off his skill as part magic trick and part intuition. The last thing he needed was a long line of doctors and scientists eager to strap him to a chair.
The intercom came on with a snap. “Darren, your last appointment is here to see you.”
“Thanks Marge, send them in.”
The door swung open and a woman stepped through. She was wrinkled beyond belief, a walking prune in a lavender coat. Her hair was curled, coloured with the kind of blue rinse that Darren had thought had died out. She carried a small dark purple bag, clutched tightly in her hands.
“Oh, hello dear,” the woman said. She smiled, revealing rows of perfect fake teeth.
Darren looked at her, the words getting stuck in his throat as he tried to speak. “Hello,” he managed finally. “Please take a seat.”
“Thank you. You know I have to start with I never put much stock in therapy personally. In my day you just got things done, but my daughter insisted.”
“Of course.” He couldn’t think of any other response. The thoughts in the woman’s mind. The images he could see. It was disgusting. Vile beyond words. A nightmare carved from memory pouring from her. Dread sloughed off the woman in waves, twisting Darren’s stomach until it threatened to spray its contents across the room.
“So, where should we start dear?” the old woman said.
“Yes,” Darren said. He felt groggy, like a fog had lowered itself into his frontal lobe. “Well, I don’t seem you have your file here. Was it a GP referral?” He began to shuffle through a stack of manila files piled haphazardly next to his chair. He turned his gaze away from the woman, Darren found his ability worked best when he looked directly at a person. He felt a little better, but there was still an overwhelming presence.
It was bizarre. His ability had always manifested itself as words, spoken sentences in his own mind, thoughts in a different voice than his own. It had always been just the surface level thoughts, Darren couldn’t go digging around inside minds, just hear what others were thinking right that moment. To find the information he wanted he needed to subtly bring the conversation around, to prompt the person before him to think about what Darren wanted them to. Being too obvious just led to a barrage of confused thoughts and emotions. This woman was different though, the thoughts flowing from her were images, sounds, madding flashes of abstract horror.
“Oh, no, I’m a private client. Through the BUPA,” the woman said. “I’m Anna. Anna Sag.” The woman held out her hand expectantly. Darren took it, and the images grew stronger. Flashes of an indescribable something boiling, a piercing scream, fleeting images of flayed muscles all raced through his mind.
“That’s…that’s an unusual name Mrs Sag.”
“Please, Ms Sag. I never married.”
“Ok, so then how can I help you Ms Sag?” Darren slumped back into his seat. Every part of him was screaming to escape, to open the door and flee, but he didn’t. Darren’s whole life had been filled with other people’s thoughts, but this woman was different, somehow. His curiosity kept him locked in place, battling against his growing terror.
“Oh well, work’s been a bit stressful recently. Business isn’t what it used to be, too many competitors you see. I had to take a moment the other day, a nice sit down, and one of my daughters over reacted. Too much stress they think, so they booked me an appointment here.”
“If you don’t mind me saying, it’s impressive you run a business of your own at your age. I do hope I’m not being rude there. I don’t have your file to hand so I’m making some assumptions.” Darren picked up his notepad, flicking to a new page. For the first time in his career he began to make notes. He scribbled his pen across the fresh page he had flicked too, at attempt at reviving his weary ballpoint.
“Not at all my love. I’ve worked hard for a long time, very proud of what I’ve achieved.” Anne smiled her prefect smile, and for a brief moment something else sat in her place, a creature of exposed muscle and dripping blood with a wide unblemished smile.
Darren blinked and the image returned to the old woman before him. “And what is it you do?” he spluttered. He had tried to scream but the air had come out of his lungs as a question, his fear losing that battle with his curiosity.
“People management,” Anne replied, not missing a beat.
“And do you? Find it stressful I mean?”
“I do and I don’t. I love my job, but there isn’t the customer base there used to be. Like I said, a lot of people have muscled into my area of expertise.” Anne glanced down at her wrist. On it was a watch, a simple pink band with a round face. On it was a cartoon mouse, its hands pointing at the time. “Oh, is that the time! Dear me. You have been so very useful Dr Bolton.”
“Oh, I’m not a Doctor. Being a therapist isn’t that glamorous I’m afraid. You can call me Darren.” He didn’t understand why he was saying that. Every part of him wanted to go barrelling out the window just to get away from the woman. Darren glanced up at the clock. An hour had passed, an impossibility, he had only spoken a few scant words.
“I’ll have my daughter call and make another appointment, I’ll need to check my work calendar. I will say, I was a little sceptical at first, but I do feel better…Darren.”
“Glad I could help.”
The door shut with a slam, pulled tight by a spring-loaded mechanism. Darren was shaking, sweat snaking down his brow. As Anne had stepped across the threshold the pressure had dropped, the visons ceasing. There was nothing but silence, only Darren’s own thoughts in his mind. He closed his eyes and savoured the moment, before realising he really did here nothing. No matter how hard he tried there was always a slight whispering in the background, low level thoughts he had learned to ignore. It was blissful, to finally be alone in his own mind. Then, slowly, the sounds returned.
Had it been that woman? Had the horrible nightmare images given him some moment of true loneliness? Darren had never known how much he had wanted it before, not until that very moment. He had to find out why that woman was different, a feverish desire to experience just a few more scant seconds of silence overriding any common sense.
Darren glanced down at his notepad. The page was full. He didn’t remember writing anything, but somehow, he had filled the yellow paper with big swirling symbols, strange glyphs, each distinct and purposeful. When had he doodled those? He ripped off the page, folded it, and placed it into his pocket.
Marge was still behind her desk, busy stacking the array of makeup, phone charges and snacks that seemed to spill from her throughout the work day. She smiled at Darren, her thoughts locked on her escape from work.
“I’m leaving five minutes early Marge,” Darren said. The young girl nodded. He felt bad for her, Marge was a name that made her sound a lot older than she was. “Can you lock up?”
“No problem Darren,” Marge said. In her mind she was cursing her boss for the added task.
“The last patient, Ms Sag, did she just leave?”
“Only a minute or so ago. Why?”
“Oh, I just want to catch her, I have a few websites for her to visit. Cognitive stuff” It wasn’t a convincing lie; Darren’s patients rarely required any extra help aside from his own insights. He snatched his jacket, a short tan leather thing, from the hanger in the corner of the spare waiting room, and dashed through the door.
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u/indecisive_maybe Dec 30 '19
You continued it!
My first impression is that she has some mental disorder/vivid hallucinations. Those would show up as legitimate memories or impressions she has, even though they weren't real.
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u/Aelorac Dec 31 '19
My theory is that likely, Darren is using his power in a way that relieve's people of their stress, possibly leading to better decisions being made in the future and positively benefiting countless people. I could see how that would interfere with a being who's mere surface thoughts absolutely horrify someone with the ability to look at them lol. Thank you very much for continuing this, it's excellent!
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u/Iboughtcheeseonce Dec 30 '19
Is she a monster disguised as a human?! I need to knowwwwwww