Early Blip

Part the Eighth

The Final Revelation
Charlie stopped in his tracks, almost unable to breathe. That soft chuckle echoed through the flat curling around him like a cold draft. His mind was in a whirl of chaotic fear and disbelief. This was impossible. It couldn't be. He forced himself to move, stepping into the darkness. He fumbled around seeking the light switch, finally finding the cold plastic. Light flooded the hallway eviscerating the darkness. Revealing nothing but an empty space. His heart pounding he rubbed his eyes. Exhausted. Mentally drained. His mind was very obviously playing tricks with him. Or was it? Now he needed to see this through - no matter where the trail led. His earlier searches had mentioned a studio that Kim had once owned before he had disappeared. He vaguely remembered it as being an old run down building on the edge of town. Maybe he would find some answers there. Something he could see. Touch. Make sense of. Grabbing his keys and putting on his jacket he left the flat. He now knew where he was going - the address had surfaced from somewhere in the depths of his memory.

When Charlie arrived it was to be faced with a building showing a high degree of neglect. The windows dark, paint peeling from the brickwork. He hesitated, unsure of what next. The rusted metal door creaked as he pushed it open. Stepping inside the air was thick with dust. There was a faint odour of turpentine. He made his way through the cluttered space - Kim had never been a very tidy person. Canvases leaning against the walls were either blank or half covered with abstract brushstrokes. There were a few pieces of old furniture covered in white sheets lending a ghostly air to the place. Then he spotted it. There in the weak light beneath the skylight stood an easel. On it was a painting. Charlie approached it cautiously. It was a portrait. Of him!

It was disturbingly accurate. Charlie was portrayed as he was now, eyes wide, mouth open, and an expression of mingled fear and confusion. It gave him the feeling that someone had been standing beside him. Watching. Studying. Committing him to memory with every brushstroke. There was a small table beside the easel, covered with a palette thick with dried paint and a random selection of brushes. On top of all this lay a folded piece of paper. His hands shook as he picked it up and unfolded it.It was a note written in a rather hurried scrawl
'It was never a stunt. They're watching. They never stopped. I thought I could escape, but they always find you. Be careful Charlie. You're next.'
His mind spinning, he read the note again. He tried to make sense of it. They're watching? Who? Suddenly the air felt much colder. He turned abruptly, half expecting to see ~Kim standing there with that all too familiar mischievous grin on his face. There was no one. All that was there was the oppressive silence of an abandoned studio.

In Charlie's mind it all, sort of, made sense, while at the same time not making any sense at all. It seemed that Kim had faked his death - but why? Maybe it wasn't just for that art. Maybe he was running from something. Hiding from something in the only way he knew. Something that had eventually led to his death. And now. Now whatever had chased Kim had turned its attention to him. A sudden crash echoed around the studio. Metal falling and clattering onto a concrete floor. Charlie jumped. He forced himself to move and look around the corner. A stack of metal pipes had fallen over and scattered across the floor. There was n o sign of what - or who - had caused them to fall over. Now his nerves were completely frayed. He had to get out.

As he was backing away he caught a glimpse of something against the wall. A mirror. Cracked and dirty. With a fractured reflection. For just a moment Charlie saw Kim's face. Watching. Waiting. He spun around to confront Kim. But there was nothing there, just empty air and shadows. He bolted squeezing through the rusted door and out into the early evening air, his mind tormented by half formed thoughts and a creeping paranoia. Whatever had happened to Kim. It was still happening. It was far from over.

Authors Note
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