John Doe, Part I: Last Memory of a Forgotten Past  

shadowofdarkns76 41M
16 posts
4/20/2006 9:39 pm

Last Read:
6/19/2006 1:10 pm

John Doe, Part I: Last Memory of a Forgotten Past

John Doe
Part I: Last Memory of a Forgotten Past

An illuminating beam of very early morning light shines through the broken pane of colored glass, brightening the faded burgandy of the carpet that runs between the oak pews of the empty boarded up church.
Automatically avoiding this light as if breaking the beam would somehow diminish his purpose, John (as he has gotten used to calling himself), approaches the unused cream colored podium before the equally unused alter.
Approaching silently is a matter of second nature to John, as is keeping a watchful eye on his surrounding and keeping hidden when it is unnecessary to be seen. The lessons that he learned these intrinsic abilities from are best left to the dark confines of his memory, a memory that even he can not always access; but sometimes, like now, when in a place that bares so much resemblance to one of the nightmares he has every night, a precious memory flashes in his mind's eye.

He sees a young man, obviously himself, black hair, a little unruly but still short, eyes that are green and full of every emotion, that his half-scicilian, half Am. Indian face is openly showing. A dare, that's why I'm here. Can't back down. Wow this place is scary lookin'. Wonder what Pop's would do in a place like this? Probably start a chant to see if any dark spirits are around. He always said if you leave a place where people have worshiped alone too long, things like to gather, dark things. Well, whatever. It's just an old church.
Still, though, he takes his time, carefully walking toward the front of the dilapidated pews. Closer toward the only debris free area of the main worshiping center. The alter doesn't look too messed up at all. It even looks like it has been cleaned relatively recently. How weird is that?
Walking carefully in the mostly dark room with a weak flashlight bought from the convenience store earlier that day, lighting the way, he peers around and sees a few overturned pews, an almost oriental rug that's mostly torn up. What windows that aren't boarded, are broken. Anything that was once remotely considered beautiful on the walls have long since been deformed with graffity or time. But the weird thing was still the alter. Like something was protecting it, the cream colored sheet covering it showed very little age, and only a few smudges of black. If he didn't know better he'd say there wasn't any dust on it either. I bet bums come in once in a while. That's what a lot of people think. Even though most say it's too unsafe and scary even for them.
Curiosity piqued now, he walks up onto the dais pointing the flashlight more directly onto the top of the alter, revealing the items that still adorn its otherwise plain surface. A copper or gold looking goblet by a dark brownish red stain, a wooden dowel, a shallow bowl with bits of something still remaining in it, from a time long ago.
Suddenly a sound is heard from beyond the alter. It grows suddenly, like a radio station getting a short burst of good signal, and dying back down, out of range.
With that thought he laughs, Probably an old radio still plugged in, inside the rectory. It would explain the weird noises that people say they hear at night, just loud enough to be heard at night, but the daytime noises would more than cover anything the radio would give out. I wonder what they used to listen to?
As he walks past the alter heading toward the door to the rectory he notices that there is a flickering light under the door. This doesn't bother him as he knows where there's power for a radio there's power for a light. Which further explains the weird things people believe they see through the broken windows in the front of the church.
He walks up to the door which is made to be concealed and blended into the background of the mosaic on the walls and sees that it is a open already, if but a sliver, not even enough to show a gap. Just enough to not be latched closed. He brings up his hand several thoughts occuring to him at once and shakily starts to push it open, after swinging around and pointing the flashlight at the alter, then swinging back and pointing the light at the door, with all his mental might he wishes and prays to anything and everything that he has ever been tought to pray to, Please stop the door from moving!
For he realized several things at once, if belatedly. First, he saw the pole outside the church the one that once had the powerlines going into this place, he saw it on the ground, long since downed by one of the many storms that happen around here. What he thought was the radio picked up again and he heard chanting, but before he even had the chance to think to himself, Pops? he suddenly had a clear mental picture of what he was looking at on the alter. Wine stains don't dry Brownish-red. It was blood. The bits in the shallow bowl was flesh. The wooden dowl, the handle of a sharp knife. As he pointed the flashlight at the alter to confirm his morbid fear, he had one last realization, light from a bulb doesnlt flicker quite like that, candles do.
As he swung the flashlight back toward the door, he found it already opening and revealing to him a louder sound of chanting. A chanting that wakes him up at night in a cold sweat without ever knowing what it is for. Because at that moment of swinging his flashlight towards the door, it goes out, engulfing him into darkness, that felt so thick that he couldn't move. The door opens revealing more candle light, and...

And that's when he wakes up screaming...That's when the flash in his mind's eye ends. That's the latest memory he has from before. From before he lost it. He know's whatever it was he saw in that room, whatever happened to him after the door opened, forever changed his life. Forever changed him. Every day when he is not working to survive he is working to find out just what it was that he saw. Just what it was that he was put through.

The earliest memory after that is waking up in a goverment controlled hospital. One of those places that the tax payers know exist but the goverment emphatically denies the existance of. Already was he just refered to as John. John Doe. A joke, sure...but since he didn't know anything about himself, it fit. So he made it his own. Already was John able to walk up to someone without ever making a sound. His small physical stature covered his hidden stregth, which always surprised those that found out about it. The agility and grace was less surprising once it was learned that he had great knowledge of the martial arts. But what was most surprising was the almost magical accuracy he has with throwing just about any pointy object that comes into hand. Although accuracy with guns would probably be equally as good, John avoids them at all costs. This of course never made sense to those testing him as they learned once he decides that someone is trying to kill him, or that someone needs to die, John has no trouble ending that life, and no remorse afterwords.
The doctors said that he seems to be fine. Nothing showing up on any brain scans, or physically wrong with him, except that at one point or another he has broken almost every bone in his body some several times, but with virtually no scars. The govermental agents conjecture about the fact that people have to have almost 40-50 years worth of training and experience before they have the abilities of John Doe, and certainly at that age they no longer have all of them all at once. The additional enigma is, John doesn't seem to be much older than late 20's to early 30's. He is a mystery to himself and all those around him.
Because of his abilities and lack of memory he is considered to be a perfect agent for missions that need stealth. Instead of being used though, by any agency, John immediatly went freelance. Running away from the govermental owned hospital.
It has been 3 years since then. John still looks the same and continues to surpass normal human abilities in physical movement and combat. His inclination toward secrecy doesn't help his search for who he was or what made him this way, but better that, then someone finding him first. As John believes more than the goverment is now searching for him.
There are those that have proven that John can trust them. These people he uses for information and for contacts to the next job, as needed.

Which brings back this line of thought back to the present time. Where John is on a job. Searching for the Hokage Dagger. A sacred object. Not sacred to the catholic church but a sacred object none-the-less. It is believed that it holds mystical dark powers, and possibly a curse. It is supposedly made of an uncharted element. Neither metal nor stone. Whatever its mysteries and past, it is old and it is expensive. For its historical relavence and value if nothing else. What exact relavence that is, John is not aware of. There was no time in researching that, as he was also informed that he may not be the only person sold this particular job.

End Part I

Next time,
Part II: The Enemy Within and Without

rm_saintlianna 46F
15466 posts
5/2/2006 9:31 pm

He always said if you leave a place where people have worshiped alone too long, things like to gather, dark things.

I absolutely love that line and the story is great so far, you are truely a good writer. I really mean that, you are as good as Texas or any other of the good writers on here.

I am so sorry it took so long, I just got to answering my April 20 th comments.....

Become a member to create a blog