Maven : Part One

The first thing I was aware of was the deep, monotonous droning of muffled sounds all around me. It was rhythmic, but it felt alive. Then the pain came. It was sharp, unrelenting, and it felt as if something were burning a hole on my side. But I couldn’t move. My eyelids were heavy and tired. I couldn’t feel my limbs. And then the cold took me, washing over my body, chilling me to my core. But as the seconds passed I realised that it wasn’t the cold that was washing over me, but rain. Slowly, I forced my eyes to open but they granted me no answers. The rain stung them as they groggily blinked open. The sky above was a pool of black and on either side of my vision were long, tall, red-tinted brick walls. Then the smell overpowered me; one of iron, rotting refuse, and piss.

Using all my might, I planted my hands on the alley floor and pushed upwards.

I slipped. My arms couldn’t hold my weight, had buckled, and sent my face crashing into the grime below. It was only when my face lay against the alley floor that I realised I’d slipped in a puddle of my own blood. The sensation in my side was sending pulses of searing pain through the parts of my body I could feel. I risked a quick glance down, to my side, and found a large shard of glass lodged between two ribs. Off to one side my sight found a big, green, metal dumpster covered in unrecognisable filth. It was my only option. I reached out with my arms and, finding a drain grate, jammed my fingers into the gaps to give myself some purchase. This allowed me to drag my body towards this dumpster, feel my arms up its greasy chassis, and find a pivot point for my grip. This was what got me to my feet with a deep guttural growl of pain. Even with the dumpster holding the bulk of my weight, my brittle legs caused me to wobble as I leaned against the structure. But with my wound seeping blood and my body not fully responding to my needs, I couldn’t afford to stop now.

I forced myself forwards by taking a step.

I wobbled, nearly losing my balance, before steadying myself using the slippery dumpster as my only form of support. I attempted another step, which came easier than the last, but made the next more difficult. My body was screaming out in pain but I was able to stay upright. However, the length of the dumpster had expired after a few more paces, and so I glanced around for my next lifeline.

A wall to the side of the alley was my best bet.

I could hear the street beyond buzzing with the sounds of laughter, jokes, drinks, and night life. At the same time I could feel the juxtaposition of my hands and fingers going numb, my feet tingling painfully, and a dull edge encroaching on my sight. My head was thumping and spinning. The core of my body felt cold. I was going into shock.

I pushed off the dumpster with all my might.

My body stumbled across the opening towards the wall as I willed all my hope into my weak, failing legs. I inevitably staggered, my legs buckling, as I tripped and tumbled beyond the wall into the street. I pitched forwards and slammed head first into a large, black, square bin positioned to the side of the pavement flush with the wall. As I slumped into a heap at the foot of the bin the sound and sight of the commotion had drawn attention my way. As I lay there fading into the darkness I heard footsteps and concerned cries approach me.

*

Much like the muffled sounds of the city, I felt vibrations assault my ear drums once more. But unlike the alley, my eyes strained with a bright white light as my ears suffered a loud, sonorous wail. I felt as if I were on my back, but the surface was soft. I tried moving my limbs but found them bound. As I tried turning my head the bright white light dissolved into a haze of shadows that bled into the world around me. The figures of people moving nearby phased into blurred silhouettes. My mind swam in an ethereal state of water and brimstone as my body drowned in the blood of my mortality. The world slowly sank away, overtaken by a chorus of wistful voices echoing in the void.

That was when, for a second time, the abyss took me.

*

It was a violent shudder that ripped me back to reality. All at once, the roaring cacophony of the city, the screeching sirens, and the frantic bustle of paramedics all around me stunned my mind. The trolley bumped out the back of the Ambulance, shaking my limp body with each motion, as the medical staff hurried me past a huge set of automatic doors.

My body was broken. For the short period of time I was aware, I could feel my deathly condition with every micro-movement. Pain shuddered through my bones. Voices consumed my mind. Some external. Others distant; shrouded in distortion. But, to my surprise, the growth of my awareness did not yield to the pull of the Otherworld.

It didn’t take the medical staff very long to usher my trolley through the hospital. My vision still swam in a whirlwind of colours and haze, but I could tell I was in a medical centre, perhaps a hospital. The room in which I ended up was exceptionally stark with clinical white lights and a staunch scent of chlorine.

“Hello-” a voice penetrated my mind from what sounded like my left flank. They were still mumbling away and I found it difficult to make out what they were saying. “-involved in a-” I closed my eyes to focus on the differences in their tone, “-need to get that out your side. Sir? Can you hear me?” I tensed my lungs to try and force sound out but my vocal cords were far too tired to make legible noise, so, I nodded. “Okay, I’m Scott, we need to get that shard out your side. I’m going to give you some morphine. Hold still for me.”

I wasn’t capable of moving via my own volition. But I could see the man leaning over a metal hip-height trolley where he was preparing a syringe. The nurse didn’t waste any time and turned back with the syringe, pushing my sleeve up my arm. I hated needles. But as the nurse went to slide the needle into my arm, something peculiar happened. The needle bent upon contact with my skin and, with the nurse applying more force to guide it in, caused it to snap.

What was going on?

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About Maven; A Urban Fantasy Fiction Anthology

A Fantasy Anthology Series like no other.

MAVEN is a gritty, slow-burn supernatural fantasy series blending the raw survival of urban thrillers with dark, eerie folklore. Perfect for fans of dark urban fantasy, occult mysteries, and body horror.

He thought he was dying in the gutters of the city. He was wrong.

Bleeding out from a shard of glass lodged in his ribs, a nameless man drags his broken body through a rain-slicked alleyways and collapses. As his consciousness slips away, his mind drowns in the blood of his mortality, sinking into an ethereal void filled with wistful, echoing voices. Death is knocking at the door. But as a nurse plunges a syringe into his arm to ease the pain, the solid steel needle bends and snaps against his bare skin.

Something shifted in the abyss. His human mortality is fading, and a dark, impenetrable truth is waking up.

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About Lore Publication

Welcome to Lore Publication! If this is your first time here with us, we encourage you to take a look through our free fiction offerings to find a story that resonates with you. We are a small, independent publication that wants to give writers a platform to share their unique voices – in a time where our voices matter more than they ever have.

Maven is the first original series developed for Lore by its Founder, a Scottish writer, Stewart Storrar. For this urban fantasy fiction series, he wanted to blend a modern Scottish setting with traditional Scottish Folklore to breathe life into his own, contemporary interpretation of his culture’s tales.

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