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Jack-a short story

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I woke up. I looked around, my senses slowly coming back to me. I was confused, I was unsure of where I was. Blinking a few times, I tried to get up. Where was I? I did not know. Why was I here? Nor did I know that. So many unanswered questions, things I needed to know, but they refused to show themselves. I tried to focus on what I DID know…

My name. My name was Jack. Jack Carmine. My age. Twenty. What did I look like? I have green eyes, brown hair, and…I was in a hoodie, and jeans, my normal clothing.

I reached my hand to my face.  Was this real? I felt my face, trying to see if I had any cuts, and to assure myself I was, in fact, alive. I was. My pulse was normal. No cuts. I was fine. Perfectly fine.

Maybe not perfectly. I looked around me. The room I was in was large. It had to be at least fifty feet high, and maybe three times as wide. I looked to my side, two massive, oak wood doors stood, stained a sickly red. Like they had been splashed with blood. I realized something. The entire room…it was blood red, like someone had taken stone, and turned them all into solid blood, and built some sort of…evil, ghastly, castle out of it. Then, as I walked around, exploring is alien and eldritch castle, another thing came to my mind.

If I looked into the stone, I could see myself. My reflection. Like…the entire castle was a massive, scarlet mirror.  I was horrified. What kind of a monster could do this? A castle of glass and blood, all dyed a deep scarlet. How could no one notice?

I looked behind me, and I saw three thrones, one made of black. Like shadow turned into metal, and shaped into a throne. The one to its right, made of the same glass as the rest of the castle, however, it had more…color to it. Like it was more concentrated. The one to the middle throne’s left, was the same. In the middle throne, lounging in its black embrace…was…a woman.

Her skin was pale, almost pure white, she was dressed in a pure black blouse, and wearing pants that I can assume were jeans. She lay on her throne as if it was a couch, her legs hanging off one side, her back resting on the back of the throne, staring at me…with eyes that were…

Wrong. They were wrong. Her eyes looked wrong, inhuman, something that should not exist. They were black, with white pupils, staring at me. She was grinning, she spoke to me.

“Hello, Annie boy, how nice to meet you for the first time.” Her voice…it was sadistic, like she enjoyed my torment, my confusion. A slight…British accent was also apparent in her voice. She grinned, showing shark-like teeth. I spat out the first words that came to my mind, my voice shaking and stuttering. “W-w-who are…who…are you?!” She got up, walked over to me, almost like she was the air itself. Graceful, but I still found it threatening. “Annie, Annie, Annie…remember the letter? ‘Meet me at the Forks in Winnipeg, tonight, by midnight, signed ‘B’ ‘? I am B. My name is Blankqueen.” I stared at her, my jaw dropped open, leaving me looking like a fool. “What do you want with me?” I spat out, shaking in fear. She responded, simply, as if it was obvious.

“I need a servant; you’re the runner I chose to fill that place.” I began backing out of the room, only to be cornered by that…thing…

Serve her? Who would be crazy enough to do that? She gave me the other option, grinning, enjoying my misery. “Or, if you prefer, I can send you back to mum in a matchbox.” I looked at her…and my mouth seemed to move without me telling it to, I said something, against my will, it seemed.



“Yes, My Queen.”

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