âIt begins without giving you a notice. Like a particularly nasty ant infestation.â The male took a drag off his cigar for an achingly long moment. The puff of smoke that he emitted out into the femaleâs face smelt more like chocolate than it did smoke. âAnd at first, just like that infestation, you wonât realize anything has changed. The first ones are extremely subtle.â Her hands tightened on the leather grips of the armchair.
She tried to focus on something else. Anything else. But the room with itâs countless untitled books and unorganized shelves offered no such solace. âYour friends begin to distance themselves from you. Or you distance yourself from them. It doesnât matter because this is the first sign itâs happening, and by then itâs far too late.â Another hissing drag of the cigar. Maybe secondhand smoking would claim her first. âThen one day they are gone, just as quickly as they had entered your life. But this time itâs different. Youâre entirely alone. Much more alone than you have ever been before.â The chuckle that racked his core contained entirely too much glee.
âYou look at yourself in the mirror and itâs gone. That little spark in your eyes is no longer there. This is when the mutilation will often begin.â She really wished he would stop pausing to smoke the damn thing. âWhether it be burns of the skin, knife slices, or even just self-inflicted bruising from punch after punch after punch... It will be there. One day youâll look in that mirror again and there will be bags under your eyes.â The tips of the girlâs fingers instinctively shot up to her face, rubbing under her eyes.
âEverything becomes rote. No rhyme or reason is left.â A shudder forced its way through her body. âYou cry for help. Small notes that are ripped up. Messages that are never sent. Stories that are never shown to the public. Words that never dare leave your mouth⌠All the silent cries for help gone unheard.â The snub of a cigar that was left was swiftly stubbed out in the ashtray. His hand, now free, grabbed a small hand mirror from his lap and held it up to her face. âThen one day you look in that mirror again and the Skeleton peers back. Sure it looks exactly like you, but you know it isnât you. It doesnât feel like you anymore. Thatâs when the transformation is complete. Youâre one of us.â Her eyes were helplessly staring into the glass at the figure that sat before her. He was right. She wasnât there anymore. Not even a shadow of herself. Just a Skeleton peered back with its toothy frown.
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It had all happened so quickly. The door kicked open, the click came, and the canister rolled into the center of the room. The rest of the students panicked and tried to fun for the door, finding it slammed and held shut in their face. The smart ones attempted to go for the windows, clambering up the table to get to them. The sound of it all was a cacophony of screaming and smashing.
And then the smell came. It was a horrid stench. It made him want to wretch. And then it erupted into flames, burning all of them who hadn't managed to get away. And him, who had found himself standing there without any further thought. Of course he had been suicidal for quite some time but there was all those stories of when it actually came down to it your survival instincts would kick in. But they didn't for him. Everyone's screams began to fade as they died. He realized he wasn't. It was just a warm annoyance at best. The flames kissed his cheek, and enveloped him entirely before snuffing out. His eyes glowed orange and a wicked grin crossed his face.
The guttering flame of the candle burst into life as the iron cover was removed from it. "By candlelight we strike this deal, blood to blood so that it may fade. To you I promise myself."
"And to You, I promise myself. If this pact is to ever be broken by you or I, let it be done so by candlelight." In darkness their lips met as they promised their lives to each other. Through thick and thin they would be together, back to back and blade to blade. She wholly trusted him with her life, but He...
A decade later she awoke to a wavering flame on their beside table. The bed next to her was empty, and she did not understand. That was until the intense pain drove itself into her gut. The flame began to gutter in the darkness, giving her half-baked silhouettes of her lover. Her lips moved in-sync to his, but only his muttered the words.
Without hesitation Diâs feet stepped into his home. It smelt just like it did when he left. The sweet, savory scent of rot was the best âWelcome Home!â sign he had ever had. His lips couldnât help but curl into a gleeful smile as the sensation of the smell enveloped his body.
Just through an empty door frame to the left the sight of Father greeted him. He was sitting in His chair. In all respects Di was the one who had bought the chair. But Father had laid claim to it, and Father was not one to argue so Di left it be. He seemed unusually happy as the static flashed across his milky eyes. Di couldnât help but wonder what news had come through to the man to make him so happy. âOh Father, look. Youâre making a mess of yourself.â The young male stepped over to the older one, tenderly rearranging the green and white organs that had fallen from his stomach. âYou must be more careful. Is mother home?â
Without waiting for an answer Di was off into the kitchen to find Mother leaning agains the counter with her elbows supporting her. âGood afternoon Mother! How has your day been?â The womanâs eyes were shut tightly. âThatâs swell to hear.â He smiled picking up a nearby rag to gently wipe at the bloodstain running across her throat. âYou and father are so messy today, Mother.â
Without skipping a beat he opened the refrigerator only to find the light didnât come on. But it didnât bother him. He grabbed a jug of milk and went to chug it, feeling the slimy lumps slip down his throat with each gulp. âSo refreshing!â He let out a large sigh before returning the cap to the container, and the container to its original place. âIâll be in my room if you need me, Mother. I hope dinner is ready soon!â And with a small skip he was away down the hallway. Past the crooked paintings, and the peeling floral wallpaper, even past the bathroom where the scent of rot originated from. âDonât stay in the bath too long Sister dearest,â he called as he passed and entered his own room.
Clothes were strewn about all willy nilly, and even his television had been left on to the white static that so easily invaded the screen and the air around it. âOh I must have forgotten to turn it off this morning. Silly me.â He stepped on his clothes, resulting in a loud snap and crunch. âSorry Sniffles, didnât mean to step on you.â His fingers effortlessly twisted the knob to an off position before he threw himself down in the bed. The old sheets were scratchy to his skin but he was used to it. They were very comforting now, actually. A small smile planted itself on his face before he curled up into a small ball and descended into his dreamland. âWhat a wonderful life I have,â was his final conscious thought that day.
Original Prompt!
âFor every tear you make me cry, I will pay you back double!â Her voice screamed at him from her window. He was walking away with a bright smile on his face as she began to sob. It had taken just over eight months, but he had finally managed to make her his. And with that he had lost all interest he once held for her. Now she was just another past conquest. Her words bit, but they were just empty threats.
And then two weeks passed and his family started asking about her. His mother said she had recipes to share with her. His father kept asking how she was doing, and his older sister said she hadnât heard from her for a while. At first it was just an annoyance and then he began to notice it. They never asked about him. Never a âHow are you?â No âAre you doing okay?â Not even âHowâs school?â It⌠It hurt. They had always asked about his life before she was in the picture. What had changed? âFor every tear you make me cry, I will pay you back double.â He shivered at the thought.
A year passed and he saw her out on the street. She was wearing a t-shirt of his favorite band and dark blue jeans. She had grown her hair out. Her smile was smile was so bright. She hanging off the arm of a man he didnât recognize. They looked so happy together. Her eyes glanced over to meet his. A semblance of surprise passed over her face and she excused herself from him and approached. He done his best to disguise the pain and tiredness with a smile. âHey Jay, howâve you been?â
âIâve been great, Samantha. How about you?â She smiled.
âNever better. Just, hold on.â A moment later she dragged the man over. âJay, this is my boyfriend Kyle. Kyle, this is my friend from college.â The man smiled down at him. He was wearing such expensive, formal clothes⌠They shook hands and exchanged a nice to meet you. âWe should catch up sometime, Jay.â
âYeah. Yeah, Iâd like that.â She wrote down her new phone number for him before they had to go.
That night they began texting. It was almost as if nothing had ever changed. Almost. While on the surface they both seemed happy and bubbly, and were talking freely about their lives there was a noticeable distance. Her words were always just vague enough to leave questions, but never vague enough to make you want to field those questions. This was the happiest he had been in such a long time. Maybe now his family would start acknowledging him as a person again. ...They didnât.
And several years passed. Their new friendship never faltered, even when he done his best to win her back. But one day his world came crashing down. âIâm engaged!â He was happy for her. He really was. But it was hard to show it through everything. She was inviting him to the wedding. He knew he had to go, even though he didnât want to. It would come across as rude. It would be wrong. They were friends.
The day came. He was in the audience. She was so beautiful. His heart ached. Tears rolled down his face. Deep down he knew he had made a mistake. He was too prideful to admit it, but he knew.
...During the reception his eyes caught herâs. She smiled. But it was nothing like the smiles she had shown him throughout the years. There was a coldness to it. A detachment. A feeling he couldnât describe. And a phrase in his head he didnât want to hear. âI will pay you back double.â That night was spent in his small apartment alone, drunk and crying. He wondered if this was the end of his debt...
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Far toward the North, just below the arctic, lies a desert. It is filled with trees who, against all logic, are filled with leaves. But instead of green foliage the leaves shimmer and wave in bright purples and pinks. No creature inhabits this forest. They all died many, many years ago. Skeletons have been perfectly preserved in the branches and roots of the trees. It is a haunting sight to those who do not know the history of this place.
And for those that do, it is a sight warning them to turn around and return from whence they came. For deep in this sandy forest, beyond the trees and dunes, lies a castle. A castle fit for giants, but a castle nonetheless. Itâs ramparts tower high above the ground. Sixty grown men, standing on the shoulders of each other, would still struggle to see the top of the ramparts. Beyond the walls and ramparts stands a castle, even larger than the walls protecting it, entirely empty. While it and itâs protection is all too literally larger than life, the rooms inside are entirely normal. Human sized, with stairs leading on high.
Everything on the inside was entirely unnatural. Made out of smooth, shining metal. The metal is always cold to the touch and occasionally whispers to you. It whispers of times long past. Of people who have come and gone. Of its once noble inhabitants, and of its long journey. A journey through sheer darkness that is punctuated by the heat and light of thousands of suns that are years and years away from each other. The spaces between these suns was extremely cold, it will inform you.
Many a man and woman have come to this place and made their home there. All have disappeared. Even their bones have disappeared from the interior of the metallic castle. Take this warning to heart. If you ever find yourself travelling north and come across a desert before you do the arctic, and see the fabled trees, turn around and go home. If you do not heed this warning then I, and everyone before you, are not responsible for what may come of you and your mortal coil.
Prompt + Original response
Criminals. Murderers. War veterans. Outcasts. This was the average mill youâd expect from every group of Lumberjacks. People serving time until they could reintegrate into society. People who felt no remorse whatsoever in taking anotherâs life. Of course for them they had taken the life of humanâs before, so what difference was taking a tree that just so happened to kill a person as well? The veterans, well⌠Itâs hard to say why they join up. Possibly because⌠No, it wasnât his place to even try to guess.
And then you have the outcasts. People who for some reason or another never integrated into society anyway. Or those who were considered âdefectiveâ. And thatâs exactly what Brad was. Or at least thatâs what he would say if you asked him. What was so defective he would never say, just that he was.
At first being out amongst nature had helped. His mind was far more clear than it had ever had been in any city. He was able to think properly, nothing seemed like the end of the world anymore. Alas all good things must come to an end. Soon the shade of the trees became less than refreshing and just mere shadows to drown his vision. The scent of fresh pine soured into a sickly sweet resin and nothing more. Even to him it was sad for something of such great beauty to lose that quality.
One day he noticed a tree that was practically rotten from the roots to the branches in the sky. It was a fire hazard to say the least. If it ever was struck by lightning was no way it wouldnât bring down the forest with it. A terrifying thought that was. A mass genocide by Mother Nature. Brad knew protocols and he checked the name, noting it in his head before writing down the coordinates. When they were done for the day heâd report it to the higher up and see what they thought the best course of action would be.
A week passed before his report came to fruition. Marked down on their haul for the day was the exact coordinates. But instead of a name it had initials written down, B.M.S. Why had they written down the initials? The full name was there. He had seen it himself. Brad M. Shurrley. âOh well,â he thought. Business was business and pointing it out would only lead to rumors and curiosity. At the very least it would fix things. That was the one fact he was sure in. It would fix things.
Thwack! Goes the sound of the axe. What a headache it was giving him.
Thwock! Vision getting blurry now and it was sound more more hollow. Just about halfway done then.
Thwuck! A liquid ran down his lip and he could taste the blood. Just a bit more.
...The rotten bark collapsed to the ground. Not with a mighty boom like a healthy tree, but a wispy whoosh and several small cracks. It would be thirty minutes before the body of Lumberjack Brad Shurrley was found by his crew. Two hours before they could return to base. A day before the rotten tree could be identified as his. Three days before his family was informed. A week before they all realized too late he was illâŚ
âAre you sure I canât convince you to not do this?â Her hand came to tenderly rest on his shoulder while they both stared into the mirror. Her in the blue uniform and him in the black vest over the dress shirt. He silently shook his head before looking down at himself. âOkay.. You wonât be like the others?â
âOf course not. I wonât break any laws, I wonât do any raiding. That defeats the purpose.â She couldnât help but smile. At least he had his heart in the right place. âAnd I donât expect you to treat me any differently if it comes down to it.â She couldnât help but wonder exactly what that meant. If it came down to him breaking the law, or if it came down to actually having to arrest the protesters for whatever reason she was commanded to do so?
She shook her head. âOnce we leave this door Iâm an officer and youâre a protester. Until we walk back through it.â He nodded, leaning over to plant a small kiss on her cheek with a wish of good luck. âAnd to you, as well.â With a willful smile she watched as his form disappeared into the sunlight outside before picking up her hat and doing the same.
Caliban stared at the small letter in his lap with fingers rapidly tapping against his knee. It was definitely one of the most odd requests he had gotten. Fernoss, the militant nation of steel, had sent a request to his company. âThe best Diplomancer you can offerâ, they said. Naturally he was going to send himselfâŚ
What was the meaning of the request though? They were famous, or infamous depending on which side of the blade you were on, for being able to overpower most opponents standing in their way. The fact they needed a Diplomancer was worrisome. âSir, you may be needed.â The driverâs voice ever so gently pulled the sorcerer out of his thoughts. From the windows he could see they were surrounded by rather crudely dressed men. With a small nod he moved to push open the passenger door before pausing.
âBe ready for my signal,â he whispered to the backseat before stepping out of the car. His left hand came up to fix the sweep of his black hair to the right while his right hand adjusted his tie. âGentlemen!â A silence so heavy you could hear a dead man breathing blanketed them all. Â âWhat seems to be the problem?â
One of them stepped forth from the crowd. Presumably he was the leader, or so his excess armor and mask suggested. âWe were tipped off some Diplomancer would be passinâ chru âere,â âWhat a disgusting accent,â was the only thought on Calibanâs mind at that exact moment. âWe were also told ifân he didnât make it any furder than âere weâd be paid handsomely.â There was the catch. There was always a catch on outings of this nature. They could never go smoothly it seemed.
âSir, if I may call you that? I assure you that whoever promised you that payment is much more likely to, ah wellâŚâ The suited man found himself clearing his throat while his hand made unintelligible gestures before him. âTo put it all too simply, they are more likely to kill you than pay you. They, for lack of a better analogy, do not want any loose ends on their ropes.â The many glances held between the gang was apparent to all but their leader who seemed entirely too steadfast on the idea of getting money.
With a scoff the masked man pulled a pistol free from his hip, lazily aiming it toward the floundering Diplomancerâs forehead. âAwfully big words for someone with only their life to gamble.â Caliban had to force the smile not to surface onto his face. âWhat an imbecile, playing directly into my hand.â
âI hear you clear, sir. And, unfortunately,â his hand pulled open the back door of the car. âI have to disagree that I am the one gambling my life.â The pistol suddenly became unbearably hot, forcing the leader to throw it to the ground. A woman in a suit much like the one the diplomancer was wearing stepped out from the car. âI assume you thought a diplomancer would come along unarmed, entirely assured that his words would be enough?â The female removed her black sunglasses to reveal two orange eyes aglow with the flames of a pyromancer. The fear was rippling throughout the crew of gangsters now. They were eating out of his hand⌠âSo, which will it be sir? Will you lose your head at the hands of your employer orâŚâ His eyes glanced behind him to the female while his lips still struggled to contain the smirk. âNot yet,â he told himself. âWill you burn in flames from Hell before your departure for a similar temperature?â
The leader snarled before yelling, âQuit your gawpinâ you bunch of kittens! Ready your weapons! Itâs just a single pyromancer, she canât take us all!â Right into their trap. Caliban let his lips curl into the dastardly smile with a small exertion of diplomantic pressure from his mind to the rest of theirs. The driver side rear door slammed open with their other companion, a muscular male, stomping out of the car with his heavy broadsword in tow. The weapon was as tall as him and appeared to be as thick as the tree trunks he called arms. That he was able to lift the weapon was a miracle in its own right, but he went a step further by effortlessly swinging it in a flourish and pointing it toward the masked leader. This was followed by another push of diplomantic energy surging across everyone. And, just like that, they all scattered to the wind like hogs set free of their pens.
âWell, that was fun!â The woman returned her sunglasses to her eyes with a giggle before sliding back into the car. The muscled male gave a grunt of agreement before gently sitting the massive blade back into itâs hidden slot in the floorboard of the car. All three doors shut moments before the engine revved back into life.
âIndeed. Aphra, good show. And Dyn?â The male grunted again. âI appreciate the theatrics, they helped wonders, but maybe next time not that weapon. It helps to have a trick up our sleeves.â A begrudging mumble of yes sir could just barely be heard over the air conditioner. âThank you.â His gaze returned to the letter. Signed by the king, emblazoned with his royal symbol. Worrisome indeed. And if the thugs were to be believed others knew of his coming. Perhaps it was a set upâŚ
The moon was high in the sky by the time their car pulled into the courtyard of the Fernossian castle. And, much to the expectations and displeasure of Caliban, they were surrounded by guards and semi-automatic rifles in a near instant. âGet out slowly.â Following his own instructions he took a step out of the car, flashing a greasy smile at the guards. âI thought Iâd have a welcome party, but I didnât realize itâd be such aâŚâ
âFormidable?â The diplomancer snapped his fingers in an âAha!â fashion at the word spoken by Aphra.
âThatâs it! I didnât expect it to be such a formidable one.â None of the armed appeared to appreciate their jokes, staring forward with their icy eyes. âMay I speak to whoever is in charge around here? I assume youâll get your general instead.â Before any of the soldiers could break away the general, with all of his uniformed and awarded glory, stepped forward.
âAnd I didnât expect to see the likes of you to ever show your despicable face around here, Diplomancer.â The smile quickly dimmed from his face when the man approached him. It would be best described as a light bulb on its last legs just fading out of existence. The general seemed to see the smile fade, giving him a small smile of his own. âWhy are you here?â The diplomancer refused to answer, glancing around as if he was waiting for someone. âI ask again, why. Are. You. Here.â Each word was more and more demanding leading to a threatening step forward. Caliban held the letter up to the manâs face, making him snatch out of his fingers to silently read it to himself. âThis canât be right..â
âAh, you must be the Diplomancer!â The armored King came strolling from the shadows of his castle with arms open wide. âI am so glad you made it in!â Before he could approach any further the general intercepted him, pulling him to one side. Angry whispers could be heard between the two men for quite some time before the general was dismissed with a steaming red face. âYou may stand down, men.â The King approached the small group once again. âWould you like to come with me to my private advisorâs room?â Without waiting for an answer he done a one-eighty on the heels of his feet and strolled away.
Caliban moved after him, signalling his two companions to follow behind him. âYour Highness, it appeared that your General had no knowledge of our arrival?â A nod. âIs there any reason for that..? Isnât he your right-hand man?â
âWhat I choose to do with my information and my kingdom should not matter to you, Diplomancer. The most you should be worried about right now is doing your job well enough to make me want to pay you.â How crass.
âI understand, your highness. My apologies.â A small tug of diplomancy to tide the man back over to neutral, if not positive. âMay I know why you requested my presence? Or is that to wait for when we are alone?â ⌠No response. Moments later the door of the advisorâs room shut behind them, plunging the room into a dead silence.
âNow then. I have called you here for a number of reasons. I would like to end the war with Magar. We have lost too many a man, and my population's morale is falling. As well as my fiance refuses to carry out our wedding until the war is over!â There it wasâŚ
âAnd why is that, your Highness?â The King muttered some unintelligible gibberish. âIâll have to ask you to speak up, Sir.â
A large sigh. âBecause it is her homeland.â A juicy tidbit. âCan you help then?â Ending a war between two nations with vehement hate for each other, that have been locking teeth for literal decades; all for a wedding. âAverage wednesday,â the mage scoffed sarcastically to himself.
âOf course I can!â
Weeks of preparation. Letters sent back and forth from the kingdom of Fernoss and the queendom of Magar, from King to Queen. Slowly it came out that the Princess had run away from home to be with her lover but Queen Lashraa refused to believe so. At every end and bend she claimed that Fernoss had kidnapped her and was holding her there against her will. All in all it was like reading a poorly constructed, half-baked novella based entirely on the ravings of a madman.
Eventually the Queen agreed to meet at the borders with King Sorn. Both of them, of course, heavily guarded. Caliban was forced to ride with Sorn and his general who still shot him steely glances every few seconds. The atmosphere in the car was enough to make any newcomer shiver but none of the three moved to make any remarks over it.
âYour Highness,â the general began. âWith all due respect donât you think this is a bit rash?â Sorn raised an eyebrow out of curiosity. âEnding the war just so you can have your wedding. You must keep in mind this is the enemy, sir. Do you do not remember why this war began in the first place!?â
âI remember very well. But that was long ago, Nar. Before you, or even I, was born. To continue a war over something that none of us were alive for is silly, no?â
âEnding it is an insult to our ancestors and all of those who lost their lives at the hands of the cretins!â Nar bristled in sheer anger, deep breaths flaring his nostrils. Caliban sat up a bit taller through the arguing, staring ahead out of the window.
âThey will all be dutifully remembered. But my utmost concern is not my wedding, General, but that we do not shed any more unnecessary blood. On either side.â
Nar began to yell again but was cut off by Caliban, âA noble reason, Your Highness. I am glad to hear you have seen reason where youâre father, and his father before him, could not. Truly Fernoss is in brighter directions under your rule.â With a muttering resembling âalways a kissassâ General Nar fell into silence. The Diplomancer breathed a sigh of relief, glad that he could at least stop any further arguing. It would not do to have Sorn upset during the peace dealings.
An hour passed before they arrived at the designated meeting point. It appeared the Queen had been there for quite some time and had already set up a tent for them to meet in. She was sitting in a small wooden chair, scowling at them the moment all three exited from their car. âAnd where is my daughter?â Caliban glanced behind them to see the car approaching from a rather confusing distance. He had told them to stay far enough behind so an ambush wouldnât capture all of them but this seemed excess.
âShe is on her way, your Highness.â The Diplomancer gave a flourishing bow. âI am not sure if you were informed but I am Caliban, Head Diplomancer of Mornotty & Dimes. I will be here to help everything move along smoothly.â The expression that settled over her face seemed to suggest she was impressed that Sorn was going to this length.
Moments later the second car came to rolling stop next to theirs with the Fiance-Princess stepping out of the passenger door. Not forgetting her manners she gave a small curtsy to her mother, who nodded. âThen let us begin.â Taking his loverâs hand Sorn led them both into the tent with the Queen and Caliban following.
âQueen Lashraa, to begin I--â
âPlease, just Lashraa. I respect you Diplomancers far too much to force you to use formalities.â
âOh, thank you Madame.â Caliban forced a small smile while still ever so gently tugging at everyoneâs minds with his power. âTo begin I wanted to thank you for humoring us, I understand how rightfully outraged you are at your daughter running away from home.â Sorn began to speak but silenced from the glare the Diplomancer shot him. âBut, as unfortunate as it may be, it is not my place to explain. So if you would...?â
The Princess nodded, taking a deep inhale. âMother,â her voice of bells gently pealed. âI understand you only want the best for me. And that you are scared for my wellbeing, but I did run away of my own will. Sorn has not done anything wrong to me, he has shown me extreme hospitality. Fed me every night, and has not laid hands upon me in a violent or otherwise unsavory way.â The rehearsing had gone well. The Queen accepted the speech, smiling at her daughter with small tears forming at the corners of her eyes. Maybe he should pull back on how hard he was tugging at her mindâŚ
âSo you believe her?â Another nod with a small wipe at her eyes. âExcellent.â âI believe His Magesty has something to say as well?â
The King rolled his shoulders. âMadame Lashraa, we have been locked in this struggle for far too long I feel. Ever since my Grandfatherâs life. Many of our soldiers on the field today have no idea why they are fighting, just that they must fight. It isâŚâ A small choke. âIt is entirely unnecessary bloodshed. Young men who are entirely innocent to the crimes and sins of our ancestors. Do you not agree?â Caliban saw the woman begin to hesitate, amping up the pressure that he was pushing against her. Just enough to bring logic and rationale to the fore mind instead of emotions.
âYes, I do have to agree. And I am glad you were the better person and initiated. I.. Apologize for being so stubborn. To both of you.â âThere we go.â
That night the Diplomancer and his associates were beginning to set off. They were approaching the car when a hand landed upon his shoulder. Glancing over it he could see General Nar. âMay I help you, General?â
âDrop the theatrics, Caliban. I want to talk to you. Not to the Diplomancer. To Caliban.â
âThen you have him, General. There is no theatrics to drop.â The man frowned deeply.
âI wanted to thank you. For helping this all along.â
âI was only doing my job, sir. Is that all? I really must go, I imagine my office is falling apart without me there to take care of it.â The General took a deep inhale, glancing away.
â...Could we stay in contact? For old timeâs sake, if nothing else.â Caliban had to restrain himself from scoffing.
âI am sorry General, but that chapter of my life is shut. That Caliban is long dead. And, even if he wasnât, he wouldnât want to stay in contact with his abuser.â Shrugging the hand off of his body he entered the car without even a glance back.
The sun was shining brightly down onto the black and grey pavement of the city, It wasnât unusual weather, but it was definitely welcomed considering they hadnât seen sun for at least a week. Oddly though Benjamin found himself wishing for the dreary overcast clouds and rain within just hours of having to spend his time out in the sun. âHow can it get so unbearably humid in just two hours! Are you done yet?â The girl sitting on the bench that he was standing behind of seemed to ignore his whinings, continuing to stare through the lens of her camera at the park ahead of them. An annoyed grunt was followed by him semi-sitting on the back of the bench, staring across the street to a bakery. âWhy does it take you so long?â
The woman narrowed her eyebrows with an annoyed expression passing over her face as she clicked a few pictures of people passing by. âYou know very well,â click click, âwhat takes me so long.â With a deep breath she lowered the camera down into her lap, leaning back to rest her head on the small of his back. The shade of the trees unfortunately did not reach them, making the glints of sunlight harshly ping against her retinas and cause small ache. âIs the bakery open?â His shirt rustled as his arms uncrossed, reaching forward to pull him off the bench. âThat a yes?â Her body done a momentary stretch before leaping off the wooden surface, twirling on the balls of her feet to see him already crossing the street with his hands in his jean pockets. A small huff poured from her nostrils before her body took off across the street, not even  bothering to glance for incoming cars.
Benjamin turned his head when he reached the glass door of the building to look back and see her sprinting across the pavement with a two cars barrelling toward her from the left. His eyes immediately filled with panic as he clenched his teeth and dug his heels into the pavement, already screaming, âClarissa look out!â He could feel his legs trying to push against the ground harder and harder in some attempt to go against gravity and physics, even when his mind was already beginning to whisper that it was far too late. His eyes seemed to only be able to take things frame by frame now. First her eyes raised questioningly, and then came the ever-looming honk of the carâs horn as it approached and her face too became enveloped in sheer terror.
Clarissa saw Benjamin turn and watched as he yelled but didnât even attempt to save her. She tried to will her eyes shut so she wouldnât have to watch the grisly events that were surely about to be enacted upon her body but couldnât force them to close. Instead a man appeared from thin air, his emblazoned yellow eyes surrounded by flame-patterned scars piercing her dying soul. His hand reached out and grabbed the collar of her shirt, yanking her forward and onto the pavement. Her voice yelped out in surprise and slight pain with her eyes already trying to pry away from the ground to the savior. When she managed to get her body turned to face him he was already gone, being replaced by Benjamin kneeling down to fret over her. âAre you okay? Did you scrape your hands, or anything? Although I guess thatâs better than getting crushedâŚâ He was speaking incredibly fast, grabbing at her hands and trying to examine her skin. It was extremely irritating.
âThatâs enough!â She snatched her hands away from him, nearly baring her teeth in the small moment of anger. He was taken aback by the sudden snap, retracting his hands to his torso nearly immediately after it. His eyes filled with worry and pain seconds later before glazing over into the normal uncaring she was used to. âSorry, I didnât mean to snap, I just am..â His hand waved in front of her face to silence her before he stood.
Benjamin imagined that she wasnât able to see the pain on his face for the most part. Admittedly it was the first time in a long, long time that she had snapped at him like that but for some reason it felt as if the wound was just as fresh as the first day it happened. âCome on, get up.â His hand went down to her in an offer to help her which she gladly took, allowing him to pull her to her feet. The air between them had grown colder than the already wintery day. It was understandable that she was upset and jarred after what happened which meant he had no right to react the way he did, but at the same time he couldnât help but feel hurt. âIâm sorry.â
âItâs okay.â A half smile glimpsed on her face before it fell back into solemnity with her arms crossing as they entered the small shop. âCan I ask you something?â She managed to catch the small nod just outside of the corner of her vision. âWhy didnât you try to save meâŚâ His fists clenched with teeth gritting behind closed lips, eyes screwing shut rather than looking down at her.
âI did. I just couldnâtâŚâ A cough went into his closed fist as he cleared his throat, his eyes opening once again. His face was dead at this point. No emotion whatsoever seemed to pass by any of his features. âCouldnât move fast enough. I guess itâs lucky you jumped in time.â That wasnât right. She hadnât jumped had she? No. The eyes were singed onto her mind, there was no way she couldâve jumped. He mustâve been mistaken. Of course they had appeared and disappeared so suddenly that maybe Benjamin hadnât even seen them.
A deep breath was taken to collect her nerves from the experience. Admittedly this semi-fight was definitely not helping them but there was nothing to do. âI didnât jump.â His eyebrows raised questioningly before his mouth opened. âI didnât jump Benjamin, I know youâre going to say I did but I didnât.â She could see his confusion growing with each word coming from her lips. Was it making him angrier or just concerned? âA man grabbed me by the shirt and yanked me onto the sidewalk.â A small pause ensued between the two once more. âDid you not see him..?â
âThis is itâ, Benjamin thought. âSheâs finally gone crazy. It pushed her over edge.â With a chuckle suppressed from his chest he waved a hand dismissively at Clarissa. âJust go sit down, we can talk more after I get our coffees.â Her posture suggested that was she far from pleased with being dismissed so quickly. âWhat?â She huffed haughtily and turned back toward the door, stomping out.
âDonât worry about ordering my coffee.â Stunned was the only word that came to mind when he tried to think of how he felt in this moment. Did she really just turn around and walk out on him after what just happened? There was no way he was going to let her go that easily.
âClarissa,â he began with rapid steps toward her, âdonât be like this.â When her hand went to grab the handle of the glass door his jutted out and snatched at her wrist, yanking her back away from it. She yelped from the force which he used in grabbing her and tore her hand away from him already going to slap him. The smack that followed seemed to resound throughout the small shop for both of them.
Time froze around them, both with their mouth opens and their gazes everlasting into the others. Their relationship was snapping before their very eyes and there was nothing they could do about it. Both felt that they were at blame, but the other more somehow. âIs there a problem here?â The cashier had approached with a phone already in her hands.
Clarissa was the first to gather herself, smoothing her jacket down. âNo, thank you though. Goodbye.â With that she was gone. The cashier glanced from the door to Benjamin who still held a hand against his reddening cheek.
âAre you okay, sir?â He just nodded silently which was enough to make her return to her post. That had just happenedâŚ
Clarissa scurried along the streets until she found her way to the apartment. Once inside the door was slammed shut and locked behind her, allowing her to slide down it with racking sobs. Had she really just done that?! Sheâd never be able to look him in the eyes again after that⌠And what if they passed each other on the street? Oh god it would be so awkward.
A good ten minutes passed before she managed to regain herself. A shuddering breath brought her to her feet. âOkay, okay. Art. Thatâll make me feel better, right?â A sketchpad and pencil was grabbed off the kitchen table before she plopped down onto the couch with her phone. Swiping left through the pictures today, she came to rest upon one. A man leaning against a brick wall with his arms crossed in front of him. âPerfectâŚ~â And thus she set to sketching out the rough posture.
Next came the cleanup, and finally the detailing. It must have been at least five hours later by the time she finished. Her lips slowly came down to press against the page for a small moment. Then she heard it. The page crinkled. With eyes fluttering she pulled away again, watching as the graphite came to life. The manâs life shifted in the wind, his chest puffing with a sigh. He seemed⌠sad. âJust as good as ever.â She squealed.
The yellow-eyed man sat across from her on the couch in a cross legged fashion. She knew he had looked familiar⌠The entirety of his being, outside of the eyes, were entirely black and white. As if made from paper and graphite. âI thought you were gone.â
âSo did I. Guess you brought me back.â His smile pierced the very darkness of the room. âRelationship didnât work out, eh?â
âNope. Howâs your⌠existence?â The man shrugged boredly, throwing his head back.
âHonest? Was rather boring without you. Not many people acknowledge my existence.â
âI would think not. To most people fairies donât exist so would make sense for a ten year old drawing brought to life by a sixteen year oldâs lust to not actually be existent to others either.â
âWell, you have me there. But how much more fun would it be if we did exist to them too?â She couldnât help but smile at the childlike glee his sentence seemed to express. âSo, gonna drop me when you get a boyfriend again?â .... He seemed to notice her hesitation, making him smile more sadistically than sheâd like to admit. âThat a noâŚ? WannaâŚâ
âSee if we can make it work?â She couldnât help but finish his sentence for him. Just like old times.
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Another year of opportunities come, tried, and lost. Months of self-hating apathy passed. Days painfully crawling along filled to the brim with anger and suicidal thoughts. Endless hours that waved goodbye as soon as they walked through the door. Uncountable minutes containing nothing but pure, utter silence...
He sits in his chair before the glowing computer screen, yellow-tinted glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. A swig of drink passes by his lips before the bottle is raised to the ceiling, âTo a New Year! Maybe this one wonât be a right old bastard.â Another swallow with ever-deepening gulp. âBut thatâs just a flight of fancy, ainât it? You and I both know youâll be more of the same.â A chuckle. Tears. Sobbing...
A firm hand landed upon his shoulder. âCheer up, Dad.â A voice of dreams long forgotten. How fitting. The black haired male knelt down next to his father to smile up at him. His face was still pure, and as young as the day he was imagined. âThis is the year. Right?â The writer couldnât help but scoff. The character frowned now. Another hand appearing on the writerâs opposite shoulder.
âWeâll make it together. You gotta believe.â The dazzling green eyes of the red haired teen met his. âThatâs what you always told us. And we still believe. Why donât you?â They even knew their entire lives were predetermined but somehow managed to keep such beautiful optimism.
Slender arms wrap around his neck before a chin rests on his scalp. âYou can do it. We trust you. Just keep pushing forward. Donât give up.â The voice was silken but somehow genteel. He couldnât quite recognize it entirely, but pieces of it felt all too familiar. Somehow it made him crack a smile.
To a New Year, with wary love ... and everlasting hope.
Victor is my name, and detective is my game. Or at least, it used to be. Now Iâm just some washed up silver fox. Itâs been a long time since I retired. Ten years now, actually. I guess that makes me fifty-five as well. Boy time flies... But you arenât here for me, are you? Youâre here for my story. The story of my key and that bow I found.
My father moved from his homeland of Japan to America so he could be with my mother Anastasia. When I was a young boy he pressed a small trinket into my hand, a bronze key actually. It was intricately designed with etchings of vines running all along it. I remember looking from the piece of metal to him and asking, âDaddy, what does this key go to?â He flashed a warm smile that seemed to hide a tempest of emotions underneath his weathered face and he told me, âYouâll have to find out for yourself, Vic.â ...And thatâs exactly what I planned to do.
Countless hours of seemingly fruitless research eventually led to a lead. A legend in Japan of some city in the mountains inhabited by what they call âYoukaiâ, or what we in the know call cryptids. So with only a tidbit of information and a will stronger than a steel blade I set off, for better or worse, into what I believed to be my destiny.
When I arrived at that mountain it was raining. Not just any rain it seemed, but a rain that poured forth itâs flood with no end in sight. I thought to myself, I said, âAm I going to let some water falling from the sky get rid of me?â Of course not! So off I set, through torrents of water and through the onslaught of abuse thrown at me by the monkeys that inhabited the mountain.
By the time night fell I had reached the hidden city. Silence echoed out from every nook and cranny. The only disturbance being what I can best describe as the clackings of talons along stones. It was unnerving to say the least. It makes you think thereâs something stalking you in this otherwise dead city... Looking back at it, actually, I wish it had been stalking me. Unfortunately it had no idea where I was, but it knew I was there somewhere.
By the time I reached my destination, dragged there by fate or by pure luck, it too had found me. Standing before me and the door I knew I must enter was a crow twice my size. It wore a black and red kimono holding a blade in itâs left winged hand and a fan in its right. I demanded it let me by showing it the key I fished out from my pocket. It cawed a mocking laugh at me, going on and on about honor and how I was a truly weak-willed human to have been led here by such trivial ideas...
Having no more of it I sprinted past him, jamming my key into the center lock of the door. Before both of our eyes the vine pattern along the door seemed to animate before crawling out  of sight. The doors slid open revealing a yellow wooden bow resting upon a stone pedestal carved into the floor. Behind me I heard the screeching  of metal slicing air. I lunged forward to grab the bow, hearing a satisfying metal clink on stone behind me. With no time to think I whipped around and instinctively pulled back the string. Even though there was no arrow notched I could feel weight against my hand and a buzzing in the air. I let go, letting forth a slew of bees. They all stabbed their stingers into him, resulting in screeches of pain as he lunged forward. Before I could react again I felt the stinging sensation and heard my own screens. My vision was gone. Faded with the final ounce of life force he used to blind me.
Itâs a miracle I made it back down that mountain. And an even bigger one that hikers managed to find me before I was put in any real danger. The bow now hangs above my bed. Itâs only been a year since the occurrence and I can sometimes swear I still hear that guttural cawing laughter in the night...
You can hear me ask, âWhat happens when itâs no longer you and I versus the world?â But yet there is no response. I know you can hear me. Do you just wish to not give me the answer I so desperately seek, or are you just ignoring me to make things easier?
In the silence between us I send another question. âWhat happens when you have left? What happens when I fall away?â I see your eyes glance at me with a deep sorrow that I can never hope to understand. Your hands tremble along with your body while your lips quiver.
Your back is to me now yet I canât help but continue to speak. âWhat happens when Us becomes Them?â Your feet are moving away and I still canât do anything but talk to the space.
It has been some time since you left. I keep a journal. Every line is another inquiry. What happens now that you left and took my world with you?
Thirty years of complete and utter silence. Even as a child I was entirely quiet as if I knew what would happen when I spoke. This had made many believe I was mute, and my family led this on after the few times they had explained I had just never spoke before. My peers all had skin with script growing ever smaller. I was the envy of all, they told me.
The truth, that I hoped they would never feel, was that it was near crippling. All friendships would be strained, all relationships over before they even started. Stressful didnât even begin to describe the knowledge of knowing it would always be like that. At least, in this day and time, I was able to just quickly type out a message on my phone for people to see.
Currently I was living with a young man who was still in college. I had rented out a room of my apartment to him in hopes of being able to help cover the rent. He didnât question my lack of speech at first, but for whatever reason it became unbearable to him and one day he began to pry. He wouldnât accept the idea that I was mute. The fact that occasionally I would slip up and open my mouth as if to talk was apparently evidence enough to know I wasnât. But, try as he might, he was never able to get anything out of me. I knew he had tried talking to my other friends and my parents as well because they told me he had. They all just offered the same explanation.
Eventually his curiosity seemed to die down. I became comfortable around him again once more. Until I slipped. I had removed my shirt and was beginning to run water for a shower when I heard the door crack open. âHey Ed, you seen my ph--â With panicking hands I went to throw my shirt back on a moment too late. He had seen the emboldened letters in thorny script running along my back just below my shoulder blades. âSLAVE.â
They were practically entirely set now. âIron Skin potions?â Once again a resounding yes. âAlright, letâs go fight the Eater then!â And thus they set off. Lush forests of green gave away into golden rolling dunes of deserts before even they decayed away into the rotting purple of Corruption.
âGeronimo!â They all leapt into the hole, one by one, freefalling into the heart of the corruption. Moments of preparation were carefully spent to set TNT before it was detonate, revealing three dark crystals of Corruption. âOne down!â Player1 brought an iron hammer down onto the first gem shattering it entirely. âA horrible chill runs down your spineâŚâ
âSecond!â âScreams echo around youâŚâ
âAnd let the fight begin!â âThe Eater of Worlds has awoken!â But, just before the boss appeared, another message appeared upon the screen. âA Meteorite has landed!â âHah, look at that guys! Canât even have some escapism, huh?â
Prompt!
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Bing! âHey sorry for cutting this short, but I gotta go to sleep. Early work tomorrow!â
Calen smiled and slowly typed in a reply, âSure man, Iâll see you friday for the game!â âAlright, gotta get back to work. This one has to be special, itâs been an entire year since we started.â The ticking of the keyboard carried on until the wee hours of the morning until he just couldnât type anymore.
Friday came around. Everyone was there except for Jason. Where the hell was he? Bing! âHey man, sorry for being late, work ran later than I thought. On way home now, will be in call ASAP.â âAlright guys, weâll give him thirty minutes before we start.â The announcement was met with a groan from everyone else. âHey now, chill out, itâs only half an hour.â A begrudging okay was mumbled throughout the group.
Thirty minutes came and went and slowly, but reluctantly, they started the session and went for hours without another word from him. At the end Calen sent Jason another message telling he was sorry but they had to go without him, that heâd be sure to try and schedule it better next time.
The next morning there was still no message. He hadnât even seen the message. âGood morning! Sorry for being such a nuisance, wanted to check on you.â About an hour passed and Calen checked one last time before he left for work, sighing to himself when he saw there was still nothing.
That day rolled away and turned into a week. The week cocooned and burst into a month and finally a message. Bing! âHi, this is Jasonâs mother. You must be the Calen we had heard so much about! I apologize this is so late coming but weâve just now mustered enough courage to actually start going through his stuff. Jason got in a very bad wreck that day and there was nothing they could do to save him. Thank you for being such a great friend to my sonâ
âŚ.It was like a light switch was just switched off in his mind. There was no way this was real. Just some horrible prank heâd decided to pull, right? Tears were already beginning to well into his eyes. âNo. Nono. Just a prank. A dream. A bad trip on something someone slipped into a drink. Hahahahaha!â The laughter was uncannily real, and he couldnât control it. It was like he was just a spectator to his own body now with tears streaming down its cheeks and jolly laughter devolving into body racking sobs. No possible way this was real...
The steaming coffee managed to fog Mayâs glasses, eliciting a groan before the cup was sat down. Of course it could be easily avoided if sheâd just use the heat, but that was wasteful. It was much easier, and affordable, to just keep a âhealthyâ stock of coffee and hot chocolate. Blink. âHm?â The normally white paper icon was blinking orange. A notification? How odd.
She clicked on the program only to have nothing happen. A small pause followed by another click, and another, and another. To verify her computer wasnât crashing she clicked onto her Windows Explorer and watched a folder open. That definitely wasnât it then.... One more click and, all too conveniently, it opened. In front of her now was a constantly updating list of some odd ten AI. Or at least it should be constantly updating. Instead, across the board, each AI had printed âWe need your help. The Reaper is coming.â Upon further inspection the messages had only been printed once but all had been forced to stay as the primary message instead of the AI statuses.
One by one she went through changing them back to printing their statuses, not really paying full attention at this point. In her mind the client had most likely been compromised by some kid who decided theyâd play some little prank. In all honesty she couldnât blame them, she had done it before herself. Just a bit of harmless fun. ...What was that? She was just about to fix the final message when she saw it. âLast Changed: 11/23/XXXX from Admin Location.â It had been changed from her computerâŚ? âFinally noticed it?â May flung herself out of her chair, yanking the top drawer of her desk open in the process to grab the small handgun she kept there for safety. Except it was no longer there.
âLooking for this?â When she turned to face the voice she was met by the gaze of a masked individual, holding up her gun. What was going on⌠âHow about you sit back down?â May tensed her muscles to attack, but seeing the figure tighten their grip on the gun, decided it would be better to listen and sat down. âGood girl!â It smiled, pushing the gun into an empty holster on its hip. âNow, Iâll give you three questions. Clockâs ticking.â May opened her mouth only to shut it again, looking the figure up and down.
âWho are you?â She tried to keep any fear she had out of her voice, steeling her nerves for whatever answer may come.
âWrong question. But Iâm The Reaper, obviously.â Itâs tone suggested that they were smiling⌠âTwo left. Tick tock.â
May bit down on her lip, racing through questions in her mind. What did they mean wrong question anyway? âWhat do you want?â This seemed to excite the figure, making them clap their hands together.
âThere we go! Now youâre thinking.â  God she hoped this was some sort of prank⌠âOne of your little bot friends over there tapped into a datacenter my company likes to peruse. Itâs rather valuable, and we couldnât afford to have some... â It paused with itâs gaze glancing over her. âWell, you, compromising us with a bot thatâs just barely hidden.â Rude. âSo I have a request for you.â
âWait! What about my third question!?â
âJust used it. Now, as I was saying. Request is to stop using your bots, or upgrade them or whatever. Just⌠Make sure they arenât so easy to detect.â Fair enough⌠May nodded her agreement. âExcellent, and now I have an offer. Join my company.â
â...What is your company, exactly?â The figured paused, beginning to pace as if in thought. Back and forth. This continued on for several minutes before it finally stopped once again.
âWe are a⌠Family. But we donât deal in the light. We stick to the shadows, and we may perform questionable acts. Some consider them crimes, but I disagree.â
May stared at it blankly for a moment. âSo, a mafia?â The figure nodded, muttering something along the lines of âSomething like that.â âWell, whatâs in it for me?â
â...Well for one youâll be out of this dump apartment. Weâll keep you well-funded. And, of course, protection from the law.â The offer was tempting. She had always fantasized about things like this. Now was her only chance if she was going to do itâŚ
âIâm in.â
âExcellent! Just one caveat. Do you have any⌠Connections? Family, friends, lovers. The like.â
May paused. âMy dad and I donât talk. I try to keep in contact with my mom.. And I have a few close friends. What does it matter..?â The figure made a small hissing sigh.
âI was afraid of that. Weâre going to have to, uh, well. Fake your death would be the easiest option.â She nearly bolted out of her chair again, her eyes widening. âCalm down! Calm down.â It held both hands out in front of it protectively. âChil.. We just, uh, canât have people coming looking for you. Itâs bad for them and for us. I understand if you want to back out now, but itâs up to youâŚâ A moment passed but she shook her head. âAlrightâŚâ
A month passed. May wasnât entirely sure how they managed to fake her death, and if she were honest she didnât want to know. It was cold and the skies were grey, but fortunately it wasnât raining. She stood on the sidewalk just across from the cemetery, watching as her mother approached the casket of her would-be daughter. She wanted nothing more than to run over to her, to comfort her, to let her know it wasnât true⌠But she couldnât. A hand landed on her shoulder, causing her to glance next to her at the blonde haired man, or The Reaper as he introduced himself. âIt must be tough. But youâve at least proven yourself.â He paused, seemingly expecting a response but she offered none. âI hate funerals. How about we go get some pie?â
