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CHAPTER Eighteen
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The Final Cut CHAPTER Nineteen
CHAPTER NINETEEN“Wait a minute,” said Suzy. “You came here with information about my sister. I’d like to hear it now.”“Why now?”“You may not realise it, but your aura’s changed. When you came here your colours were guarded, deceitful and conflicted. The crying and the confession have opened you up, something’s been unlocked, your chakras are more in synch. I think you should tell me what you know.”“You don’t really believe all this new age claptrap do you?”“And here we are back to being cynical, in spite of what just happened. You’re not fooling anyone you know. This isn’t the only weird thing that’s happened lately is it?”“You couldn’t possibly know about that.”“Know about what?”“It doesn’t matter.”“You say you employed my sister, was this recently?”“Yes, we’re supposed to be shooting now. That’s why I’ve been looking for her, she’s disappeared again. We’re losing money on the shoot and . . . ”“Yes?”“Well she asked me to come and look for her, if something like
The Final Cut CHAPTER Twenty
CHAPTER TWENTYThe footage ended and the screen went blank. Sam got carefully up from the sofa, so as not to hurt his cock. It was so chafed and raw it hurt to even look at, let alone touch.He couldn’t decide whether to re-watch the footage, or grab a beer and some left over pizza. He hadn’t had anything to eat or drink in over eight hours. He looked around the room at the chipped paint on the floorboards, the mouldering furniture and the curtain-less windows. There wasn’t any pizza left. The discarded box was empty and so were the beer cans scattered at his feet.His stomach rumbled in complaint. He was hungry, but he’d run out of provisions. He could order another pizza but that would mean going downstairs to the pub; the delivery guy wasn’t allowed up to the room. Going downstairs meant he’d have to interact with the people in the bar. It also meant putting pants on, and he wasn’t sure his poor cock could take that.Maybe it was best if he just stayed in his room and watched th
The Final Cut CHAPTER Twenty-One
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONEWhen he’d gotten back to his apartment, even though it was late, the first thing Sam did was get straight in the shower.In a repeat of the night he got back from the lock up, Sam stood beneath the scalding hot water and tried to wash away the memories of the previous hours. He was no more successful this time than he had been the last. No amount of soap or water could wash away the spectre of Melissa’s touch. He could still feel her ragged skin pressing against his, her breath on his cheek and her blood spilling out over his loins. Every time he closed his eyes he saw her face and the gaping hole in her throat.His skin was red and smarting when he left the shower. The images in his mind were just as vivid. They weren’t the only thing he couldn’t escape. His whole body was filled with an invisible pressure, an insatiable need for release. He’d fought off his desire to come with Melissa and now it dogged him mercilessly.Sam was reminded of a Sunday afternoon he’
The Final Cut CHAPTER Twenty-Two
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWOSam had been in the room above the pub ever since. Though he’d watched the footage more times than he could remember, he’d never seen the exact same sequence twice. The footage changed every time he watched it. That’s why he’d never been able to edit it.To begin with the changes were quite subtle, but in time everything was different from the first time he saw it. At first Sam noticed how the blurry, shadow figures altered the way they tortured the three victims. They seemed to get crueller, more extreme and increasingly creative in the ways they flayed and dismembered them.After this, the victims began to change, the two men he’d originally seen with Melissa were replaced with others, including the men who’d been in the lock up with Ashkan. The only constant throughout the whole of Sam’s viewing was the presence of Melissa. That and the almost transcendent way she bore the torture of the blurred figures.In time Sam began to suspect that the footage itself had
The Final Cut CHAPTER Twenty-Three
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE“Yeah, like I said,” the barman called over his shoulder, “we ain’t seen him in days, mate. Landlord reckons he’s done a bunk.” He was a bulky man who huffed a lot as he led Jimmy up the stairs. He was losing most of his hair, even though he was only in his late twenties, and had grown a huge pair of mutton chop whiskers to compensate.“Landlord’s coming back this evening to clear the room, so if you want anything you best go through his stuff and grab it now, alright? Good luck though, it’s minging in there.”“That’s okay, I’m only after one thing, I shan’t be long.”The barman coughed, looked at the floor and scratched his neck, waiting for something.“Oh yeah, sorry,” said Jimmy and pulled two twenties and a ten from his pocket.“Cheers,” said the barman, taking the money. He produced a key, unlocked the door then turned and lumbered back down the stairs.The smell hit Jimmy the minute he opened the door. The air was stale and stank of Sam’s unwashed body
The Final Cut CHAPTER Twenty-Four
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOURJimmy let himself into Sam’s apartment and put the laptop on the coffee table in the living room. The presence of the laptop in the apartment seemed to confirm Sam’s absence. He was never coming back. Like Jennie he was dead and lost to Jimmy forever.Jimmy sat on the sofa and stared at the laptop as though it was booby trapped. In a way it was. It contained the last surviving copy of the footage. Someone, or something, connected with that footage had killed Sam. Jimmy was afraid to even open the laptop, let alone switch it on.He knew the footage was dangerous, toxic on some level he could barely comprehend. Everyone who’d watched the footage, since Ashkan first played it in the lock up, was dead. Everyone except Jimmy. Was it simply a matter of time before it claimed him, too?The wise thing to do would be to destroy the footage, but it was more important to his plans than it had ever been. Using it in a film had been all about redeeming the terrible situation
The Final Cut CHAPTER Twenty-Five
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE“Are you sure you’ve got the right spot?” Jimmy said, glancing at his watch.“Yeah,” said Rick, a tall, bulky guy with close cropped ginger hair. He stubbed out his cigarette and put his hands in the pockets of his grey hoodie. “He always makes you wait, he’s worse than a dealer that way.”They were standing on a dark corner in the back streets of Shoreditch. Rick glanced up and down the road then lit another cigarette.Jimmy had met Rick through Alfie. Quite predictably, Alfie had taken the piss the minute Jimmy asked him if he knew anyone who was into hardcore magic, the really dangerous stuff? When he’d had his fun, Alfie introduced Jimmy to Rick. Jimmy explained to Rick that he was looking for someone called ‘the Tailor of the True Cloth.’“I think you’ll need Vince for that,” Rick had said. “Have you heard of him?”Jimmy shook his head. “No.”“Some people call him the ‘Mystic Yardie,’ but never to his face. Other people call him ‘The Baron,’ after Baron
The Final Cut CHAPTER Twenty-Six
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIXJimmy didn’t know Peckham well, it was a part of London he’d never been to. In fact, he never really went south of the river Thames. It had taken him all night to find the shebeen.It was in the basement of an abandoned warehouse, at the bottom of a set of concrete steps that stank of piss. He pushed open the battered steel fire door and peered inside.He saw nothing, at first, it was so dark. But he could hear muttering voices, the clink of glasses and the scraping of chairs. He wondered if we would find Vince here, or whether this would be another fruitless search.As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, Jimmy saw a tall, lean figure, with shoulder length dreads, sitting alone with his back to the far wall. Vince didn’t see Jimmy as he entered the drinking den, a long thin room with a rubble strewn floor, littered with a collection of near broken furniture. Dim figures sat about makeshift tables and an obese bar man stood behind a ramshackle bar.Vince looked up as
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The Final Cut CHAPTER Forty
CHAPTER FORTYJimmy couldn’t stop shivering, not just from the chill air, but from everything he’d been through. He wanted to cry, but was afraid he’d lose himself to hysteria. His chest wheezed as his asthma threatened to return.He knew at some point he’d have to climb down from the table and explore the tiny space. He wouldn’t find a way out otherwise, if there was a way out. At the moment though, all he wanted to do was hug his knees and rock gently back and forth.The darkness that surrounded the tiny area was thick, black and seemingly absolute. Beyond it were beings more dangerous than Jimmy could comprehend.He had no idea what to do if he couldn’t find a way out. He hadn’t thought this far ahead. He never did. He wasn’t a great finisher or completer, he needed Sam for that. He was an initiator. He launched into the things on impulse without a thought for where they might go or how they might end.It all came down to endings yet again. It always did. It wasn’t supposed to
The Final Cut CHAPTER Thirty-Nine
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINEJimmy darted behind one table and then another, trying to get as far away from the Anunnaki as possible, but nothing stopped their advance. Eventually he pushed himself up against a wall and sunk down into a squat with his arms over his head, naked and vulnerable, wearing only his boxers.The Anunnaki pushed right past him as though he wasn’t there. They were interested only in Mr Isimud. They fell on him in a blurred and shadowy mass. Jimmy pulled himself up and sat on the edge of a table.It was impossible to look directly at the massive scrum of Anunnaki surrounding Isimud. To try and take it in hurt not only Jimmy’s eyes, but also his soul.Jimmy turned away and tried to block out first Isimud’s screams and then the sounds of rending and tearing. The Anunnaki began to separate into smaller mobs each carrying a different Isimud, kicking and thrashing in their grip.Jimmy’s eyes couldn’t process the mass huddle of Anunnaki that had fallen on Isimud. The sight
The Final Cut CHAPTER Thirty-Eight
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHTMelissa’s body went into convulsions. Her jaw hung open and started to spasm. Blood leaked from the corner of her mouth and an agonising moan escaped from her throat. Her torso shook as her body went into shock and a torrent of blood spilled from her wound, pouring over the edge of the table and onto Jimmy’s feet.Jimmy gripped Melissa’s shoulder as the blade squirmed in his hands, trying to shrug off the form it was currently holding. It looked like an image on a TV with bad reception, crackling in and out of shape. This ruptured Melissa’s organs and caused her to cough up more blood.Melissa threw her head back and stopped shaking, her breath barely perceptible. The robe around her shoulders started to liquefy and soak into her pores. Her skin was absorbing it, becoming one with the Tailor’s handiwork.As the robe merged with her flesh, and then her bones, Melissa’s body began to change. Her breasts disappeared and chest hairs sprouted in their place. Her leg
The Final Cut CHAPTER Thirty-Seven
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVENJimmy was no longer in the cinema, or anywhere in London.He was in a giant underground space that seemed to stretch for miles in every direction. In places it looked like a cellar or a basement, in others a catacomb or a vault. In every area of the space there were people tied to operating tables, stone slabs and sacrificial altars with blurry Anunnaki buzzing round them, destroying and tormenting their flesh.Jimmy was looking at the whole landscape of a murderous story that had no end. It was a limitless cartography of pain, showing every victim the story had ever taken, all suffering side by side. The atmosphere was like that of a charnel house, on a scale that Jimmy’s mind just couldn’t process. The air was so thick with human agony you could choke on it. Jimmy pulled the robe up around himself like a small child who pulls the blankets over his face, in the dead of night.The hem of the robe had joined itself to the fabric of the story. There was no differ
The Final Cut CHAPTER Thirty-Six
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIXThe Isimud that stood before Jimmy, was not the man he’d seen in his vision. He was relaxed genial, and quite unbelievably charismatic. Like the Tailor he had the air of a man who does one thing so well that it brings him a great deal of power and influence, and nothing is more charismatic than that.He also seemed to be filled with genuine anticipation. He was practically rubbing his hands together. This unnerved Jimmy more than anything. Something sinister lurked behind his anticipation, something more frightening than the maliciousness that played about his smile.“”Sometime towards the middle of the year 623 BC,” Isimud continued. “Sin-shar-ishkun, one of the last Assyrian kings, led a large army into Babylonia to crush the rebel Babylonian forces led by King Nabopolassar. To begin with, the battle went in the Assyrian’s favour and Nabopolassar’s forces were routed. Then Sin-shar-ishkun’s chariot followed his troops right up to the battle’s front, where he met
The Final Cut CHAPTER Thirty-Five
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVEJimmy passed through into a small, shabby cinema. To his immediate right were about six rows of raked seats with two further rows of seats in front of them. The seats were worn and threadbare and the screen at the front was grubby and smeared with dirt.The floor was even stickier and the smell of sweat and cigarette smoke was stronger. There were about ten men in the cinema, mostly sitting by themselves, but a few sat next to each other. One of the men had his hands down another’s trousers.On the screen, a large black woman was tied to a stained mattress. Two white men, in loin cloths and Ku Klux Klan hoods, stood over her. The woman was screaming at the men, calling them racist bastards. One of the men left and returned with an industrial sander that he applied to her nipple.The woman bellowed in pain and anguish. The hand held camera moved closer, blood and viscera spattered the lens.So this was the type of establishment Isimud was running. A private club
The Final Cut CHAPTER Thirty-Four
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOURJimmy marched out of the shop, up the cobbled alley and out onto the high street. He came to a mini cab office, pushed open the glass door and walked into the waiting room. There was cracked linoleum on the floor and faded blue paint on the walls, the skirting board was scuffed. The whole place seemed dirty, run down and neglected. A bored black guy with a big afro sat behind a grimy window that opened onto the despatch office.“Help you?” the guy said without looking up.“I’d like a cab please,” said Jimmy. His voice sounded odd to him, as though it were a chorus of voices all speaking in unison. He was many characters speaking at once.It occurred to Jimmy that he was connecting with the world around him through a filter of myth. People talk about getting immersed in a story, but they have no idea what that really means. Jimmy knew what it meant; he was clothed in a story. Everything he said, and everything he touched turned to fiction.“Where you going?” sai
The Final Cut CHAPTER Thirty-Three
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE“Can I put it on now? Jimmy said. The Tailor nodded. Jimmy removed his clothes and the Tailor placed the robe around his shoulders.It didn’t feel like anything he’d ever worn before. The robe wasn’t heavy as such, it just had the grave weight of a terrible tale about tragic events. It didn’t feel like fabric against his skin, it had the substance of stories, as though there was now a barrier of fiction standing between him and the world and Jimmy could rewrite himself endlessly, changing the way he was perceived and how he interacted with everything around him.The elderly man wheeled out a full length mirror and placed it in front of Jimmy. The robe in the reflection was even more difficult to look at and even busier to the eye.“Does it really look like that on me?” said Jimmy. “It seems larger and formless, like it’s growing all the time.”“That’s because stories are only mirrored by other stories,” said the Tailor. “What you’re seeing is every other story
The Final Cut CHAPTER Thirty-Two
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWOJimmy took hold of the thread and pulled it off his eyelids.“The footage . . . it’s the story. It’s thousands of years old.”“Yes it is. Like all good fiction it has changed and adapted itself to the latest medium. The story has slowly evolved so it can most effectively prey on the select few who encounter it. The type of twisted individuals who seek out such material.”“You haven’t explained about the ending though. Why would the story keep going just because it was open ended? I like open endings.”“That might be your biggest problem as a film maker. A story without an ending lacks the proper shape or form, it insults its audience and plagues their mind because it lacks resolution.”“Real life doesn’t have any resolution or neat endings.”“Fiction isn’t real life,” said the Tailor, as though he were explaining something to a child. “When you tell a story you are setting a contract with your audience. You don’t say to them ‘Let me tell you something that hap
