‘Re:Born’ – By Mark T. Bates (The Curious Dark #1)

‘Re:Born’

A Short Story …

by Mark T. Bates (2025)

***

Darkness. Cold, empty darkness. Accompanied with a deafening silence as I lay paralysed in fear and internal suffering, as I have done now for God only knows how long. The silence is eventually broken as the sound of loose soil being scattered over my casket takes over my senses. The sound becomes heavier and the noise becomes a humming drone inside my head, while a sickening dank musk slowly fills my lungs … the taste of a premature death.

Then, I am visited by a ghostly silence once more, and the feeling that I am falling. My numb body dropping uncontrollably in slow motion. Pins and needles shudder through me, travelling upwards from my toes before exploding in my mind like a crescendo of smashed ice. And somehow it then seems even darker, as my body succumbs to the infinite gloom.

I am left only with my thoughts of a life left behind. Now just fading memories. I had a family that loved me, a family I still loved deeply. A wife, a young daughter who had recently started school, a daughter who now faced an uncertain life without the father who cared and provided for her. A father she adored. A father murdered as I walked home alone at night after an evening drinking in the local tavern. A ten-minute walk along the cobbled streets of our village, a walk I had done countless times before. My body left dumped in an alley not 500 yards from home.

By all accounts I’ve come to understand that no witnesses have come forward to name any potential killer, no clues found upon or near my body, which had been stripped naked and drained of its blood through various carefully made incisions. I have no real memory of the exact moment of my Death. I had been stumbling along quite happily, a belly full of ale and thoughts of a warm loaf of bread when I arrived home, before retiring to an even warmer bed beside my sleeping wife. Then I was hit from behind with a violent force, and I recall falling face first towards the floor. Then there was nothing except the total darkness I have now become accustomed.

At some point, I regained a consciousness of sorts. Facing the sky, I was surrounded by the constant flow of people coming and going about my body. Prodding me, examining me, defiling me. But despite this strange and unpleasant awareness of my surroundings, I could not move. And I could not speak. For some unknown reason though I could see, I could hear, I could think again. And I was scared. A black bag was placed around me, and I sensed movement as I was lifted. Followed by the sensation of travelling on what felt like the back of a cart. Eventually, after I know not how long, the bag surrounding my corpse was removed and I could but stare upwards as candlelight flickered around me. I suffered my autopsy in silence, and felt no physical pain.

But the pain would come soon enough when the distraught faces of my wife and daughter leant over mine, kissing my forehead, their tears dripping down onto my cheek. They whispered that they would never forget me, that they would always love me. My wife told me she would cherish our time spent together. I then suffered what felt like an eternity shut in the pitch blackness of what I could only assume was a mortuary. Eventually, I was moved to the coffin I have been laying in ever since. And finally, I could only listen as the priest conducted my funeral, before I was placed down into my final resting place.

Here lieth Sebastian Doyle

Devoted Husband and Father

Born 30^th January 1835 – Died 1^st May 1862

And now I lay still, victim to an eternity of nothingness. It dawns on me that one finally discovers what happens in death. The body might decay, but it would appear the soul and the mind does not. And I fear I will be left to contemplate my existence, as well as the existence of life itself forever more. I would have shaken my head in disbelief if I could have moved a muscle …

***

I have now lost all sense of time as my thoughts drift dream-like, eventually always returning to the faces of my wife and daughter. I am petrified that if I go too long without gazing upon them in my minds-eye, that I may forget my loving family. I will do everything that I am still able to never let that happen.

I yearn to hear from my God. But I fear I am desperately alone. Why hath thou forsaken me father?

Suddenly and without warning there is a FLASH of light, and my head begins to throb. Colours engulf my every thought, a twisting kaleidoscope within my mind. I see a face. The face of a demon, and I am scared. Our eyes lock together, its horrific yet hypnotic gaze drawing me deep within. The demon smiles, and as it does so blood drips from its mouth. As I look deeper into the yellow eyes of this despicable vision, I see a reflection of my own face staring back from within its pupils. The reflection of my mouth is also dripping with blood, and I can barely recognise the demented expression upon my face.

Then the damnedest thing happens. My fingers began to twitch … My toes began to uncontrollably spasm, a spasm which starts travelling through my body. I begin twisting, turning, contorting within my chamber. The muscles in my face begin to move as I grimace. It feels like my jaw is expanding. I can hear the bones creaking and then I feel them cracking as my eyes begin to bulge. It feels like my front teeth are moving forwards, meaning to escape from the confines of my mouth as my jaw changes shape. Sharp, serrated teeth which no longer feel like they belong to me.

I start violently convulsing, and a natural instinct takes over as I begin kicking upwards, while I also begin violently hammering the roof of the casket with my fists. I feel strangely strong now, and the lid of my confined prison begins to crack. It soon gives way, and before the earth can fall through the gap and bury me tight within the soil, I sit up and begin pushing myself upwards. My arms raised above my head in the shape of a church spire.

I push hard with all of my weight, my strength continuing to surprise me. But everything is coming so naturally and I’m moving on pure instinct. I find myself burrowing upwards, the earth easily subsiding at my hands, and before long I break the surface. Rain pours down on me as I part my arms to create a hole large enough to pull my whole body through. And as I do so, I gaze upon the fullness of the moon. The moon that I intuitively know is providing me with fresh life.

Free of the earth, I open my mouth to scream. But all that comes out is a gargled snarl. My jaw feels dislocated and I become aware that my tongue lays paralysed in my mouth, its tendons ripped and torn. I cry out as saliva drips down my chin … and I know that I have become a monster. I begin walking through the graveyard, shuffling with the top half of my body bent forward. I am guided by the moon through a labyrinth of paths that snake between the gravestones. But the light of the moon which seems brighter than I have ever known it before, bares me no shadow.

It would be a short walk from the churchyard down into the village I had once called home. I do not know the hour, but there is no-one around and it feels like the very dead of night. As I walk, I close my eyes for a brief moment and the vile demon’s face flashes before me, its teeth dripping with blood. Blood …

Each time my eyes close I see the same image and it begins to speak to me. An unwelcome sound inside my mind, calling me, teaching me.

Blood is sustenance. Blood is life. You must feed before this night ends … 

I keep moving onward. I was aimless at first, but now I have a purpose. Now I have clarity, and I know where I am headed. Where I have always been headed. As I pass the shop-fronts that line our village’s main street, I look at each one but see no reflection. I am a mere shadow of darkness. And I will soon be home. I hope that my family still miss me, as I have missed them. The images of my wife’s loving smile, and the sweet innocent face of my daughter draw me forward step by step. And as I reach the front door to our cottage, I know we will finally be together again … Forever.

*** END ***

Copyright 2025 Mark T. Bates

All Rights Reserved

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A version of ‘Re:Born’ first appeared as part of Crystal Lake Publishing’s ‘Shallow Waters’ series on their Patreon page (Feb 2025).

Mark T. Bates – Writer Bio

As a teenager Mark immersed himself in reading a cocktail of Stephen King, Clive Barker and James Herbert stories, while also diving deep into the movies of John Carpenter, David Cronenberg and Guillermo Del Toro. Gaining a life-long love of Horror, Fantasy and Sci-Fi which has transcended into a passion for telling his own tales.

Particularly drawn to the craft of short-story writing, Mark is inspired by the Night Shift and Skeleton Crew collections from King, Barker’s seminal Books of Blood, and stories from a diverse pool of authors including Chuck Palahniuk, Philip K. Dick and Joe Hill. 

Mark has had a number of short stories appear online as part of Crystal Lake Publishing’s Shallow Waters series, and his creepy supernatural novella – The Curse Of Six – has been signed by RDG Books for release later in 2025. Mark can be found online via Instagram / Facebook / Bluesky / X.

‘The Curious Dark (Vol.1)’ – by Mark T. Bates