The Colours of Fear: The Colours of Fear, #1

By S. Grybko

Including 'Fear of a Blank Planet', a look into a troubled mind, and 'The Heart of the Fourth Palace', an incredible adventure by exile, this fine assortment by S. Grybko showcases new tales from the writers horrific and thrilling collection.

• Language: English
• Publisher: S. Grybko
• Release date: Oct 22, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201097028

Book preview

The Heart of the Fourth Palace

1

In the dark hallways of St. Michaels Sanitorium with its peeling wallpaper, dim flickering lights, and echoing screams from fragile minds, Viktor Black walked swiftly with his shiny shoes swallowing the distant echoing screams. His hands folded behind his back and coat flapping behind him with nurses in tow, Viktor’s heavy steps clapping the tiles as a nurse began to inform him of the state of his new patient, Theodore Thomas.

Some men brought him in, nearly thirty minutes ago, Doctor. He isn’t well, but he is conscious. I believe . . .

I do not care for your beliefs, nurse, sniped Viktor. Mr. Thomas is now under my care and I will proceed to handle his case without your speculations or any other unqualified thoughts, is that clear?

Yes, Doctor. Mr. Thomas is here, said the nurse, pointing to the door to her left. Room 222. I tried to find you as soon as possible Doctor, please forgive me for any delay.

Viktor glared at the nurse. He looked at her from head to toe and sneered, no delay.

Viktor Black was a prestigious doctor, called to St. Michaels Sanitorium only for special medical cases. Much was unknown about his past with some debating whether his credentials were from an accredited and legitimate medical institution. Undoubtedly he was an expert in his field of the abnormal. According to some, he studied at Montgrave University at the age of 23 and was a particularly bright yet awkward student, reserved, studying biology and performing paleontological research in his spare time with access granted to him by the president of the museum he volunteered at in Northern Autumnend.

Viktor had a square and unweathered face, one that suggested he spent much less time digging up bones in some desert or jungle somewhere than he did. He appeared decades younger than he was and showed no signs of aging. His face bore a maturity that was given by his eyes but his mannerisms and resolve shrouded his true self. He was educated, clever, and secretive. He practiced medicine and practiced irregular methods, though this could never entirely be proven. His methods were unusual and his experiments were always successful but his greatest discoveries came from private studies which landed him under the careful eye of ethical bodies.

With an unbroken gaze, the doctor examined the red door in front of him, reading 222 in copper-plated numbers. The hairs on his neck tickled— feeling this patient was the one, and he was excited.

Viktor’s vision strained, eyes glued on the door until a few moments passed and through an audible haze, he could hear a nurse calling out to him to which he gestured violently for her to leave him be. Straightening his crimson bowtie he took a breath. Gently he pushed open the door to Mr. Thomas’s room, the door gently closing behind him.

Dizzy and barely conscious, Mr. Thomas struggled to open his eyes, attempting to focus on the voice that was breaking its way through the fog that clouded his drowsy senses. The fog lifted and Mr. Thomas's surroundings became clearer. He was in a bed lying on his back staring at the dark grey ceiling. The air was dry and pungent with the scent of paint and alcohol. A radiator to his right hummed under a small slightly cracked window whose drapes fluttered lightly as they dangled. Beside him was a small table with a withering yellow flower, a glass of water, and what seemed to be the remains of crackers that some rodents had eaten.

At the end of his bed in a chair was a hazy figure, seated beside a lamp, whose features still hid behind the haze of awakening. Rubbing his eyes to ward off the fog of sleep, Mr. Thomas focused on the man who was still speaking aloud. The voice was deep and monotone and by no means soothing. Every word sounded like it was a question and an answer and it only made him more curious to see who it was. Finally, in focus, Mr. Thomas could make out a white coat and a red bowtie. He could see the face of the man who sat at the end of his bed, reading monotonously to the man lying in the bed before him.

Ahh, you're awake! said the square-faced man with a freckle of enthusiasm.

Mr. Thomas stared at the face before him, dawned with a pair of rectangular glasses. Who are you?

"I, Theo, am Viktor Black, your doctor.

Doctor? asked Theo, nodding at the man who in turn nodded back at him.

"I am correct, yes?

Correct regarding what?

Your name of course— Theo Thomas, aged thirty-three, unemployed, parents . . . dead, no children . . .

Yes, you are correct Doc . . .

Without letting Theo finish, Doctor Black glared at Theo and continued on.

Children, none. Criminal record . . . ahh, intriguing? Burglary, assault, need I go on?

What are all these accusations? cut in Theo aggressively.

Now, now, no need to get defensive. You and I both know that there are things neither of us would want to admit no matter what the accusation or situation but humor me, Mr. Thomas, please.

Theo glared at the doctor with daggers in his eyes but kept himself from spilling his thoughts. He knew the doctor was right, so he kept quiet.

Frankly, I'm only here because your situation was quite compelling to me. I’m here, ready to talk about what has happened to you on the island.

What island? questioned Theo, staring at the doctor with an expression of guilt that he could poorly disguise. Who said anything about an island? I'm here because, err . . .

Fumbling to come up with something, Theo looked around the room while Viktor saw right through Theo’s lies.

Oh please Theo, you were found unconscious, blabbering about some island and bizarre occurrences. Surely you don’t actually believe you’ve kept anything a secret, look at you!

Viktor was right. Theo knew this and he was in no position to be cunning. The doctor then skimmed through his papers and seemed to be on the edge of saying something.

Slowly, Viktor then leaned in toward Theo, his face only inches away. He licked his lips in thought and held back what Theo believed to be a question, but the doctor relaxed and stifled whatever he wanted to say. So, Mr. Thomas, tell me your tale.

2

The morning was cool when Theo arrived at the lighthouse. The sun was only just beginning to peek over the horizon giving the water a gentle glisten as the waves quietly and calmly rustled up along the sandy shore. It was a quiet and unwelcoming place, and it was definitely secluded. Off the boat was the first thing Theo heard as he was pushed off a small boat onto the wet sandy beach.

Water’s cold, said Theo, voice muffled by the brown bag that was placed over his head. The bag was removed and in front of Theo stood four large men, and one more distinguished gentleman.

Oh, Sam! Come give me a hug, said Theo to the gentleman before him. But as Theo attempted to stand up, he tripped and fell face-first into the wet sand as his feet were still bound with rope. Spitting the sand out of his mouth, he peered up at Samuel Herman, his former target.

Mister Thomas, said Samuel angrily, "once