He made his way through the tall grassland slowly and without much direction. It was how he lived his life as of late, A man with no direction, no goals only an objective. The objective being so wide in it’s interpretation that it wasn’t something he could always live up to, which of course created problems. He took the time to reach int his gun holster and obtain his Single action army. It was unique in being a bronze design, the patterns on the side like vines that represented his spiritual bondage, his overall duty to stay between the world of the living, and make sure that the balance of light and dark was kept nominally. A reminder of what his job, that he was wasting time by visiting his family and not staying on his duty.
His ears caught wind of the boat that was currently coming his way. He had just walked his way through the shore apparently, something that he didn’t notice at first until he took his eye off of his gun. Usually when he was affixed to said Items he was sure that something wasn’t right, at least in terms of the balance he was left to attain to. Scan, Spin, place it back in his hostler, it was a simple pattern but one he decided to follow most days.
THe moved his bony hands into his pocket, shread of skin fell off his body and disappeared onto the grass below him exposing more of the old decrepit bone structure. Skin wasn't something his body needed anyway, the fact he still have some semblance of flesh only caused to remind the zombie that he was still alive, as alive as he could get after all.
The decrepit right hand would reach for his box of cigarettes. He pulled them out and opened the box, as expected most of his cigsbent from travel, and the rough activities his body usually did. He drew the f** out of his pocket, placed it in his mouth and lit. The smoke escaped his rotting body from the exposed once he inhaled. IT was the scent that made him smoke this brand, the scent of cherries and the catharsis that it brought for him always managed to at least keep his head level.
He stood on the shore, leaned on a nearby pole and waited for the Boatman to make his stop, it was time to head back to the world of the living. Something however, didn’t resonate well with his mind, it felt clouded, more clouded that it usually was when he decided to smoke. Yes, smoke was indeed leaking through the crack in his cranium, but he was sure that wasn’t what was on his mind…
"Dr. Frankos, you simply don’t understand! My granddaughter is a mess and quite frankly, this sort of behaviour cannot continue! I’ve seen on the television what kind of results the treatment can provide! It’s not about money, we have money! I just don’t see why we cannot start the process today-"
The Doctor at the receiving end of the woman’s outburst nodded sympathetically but by the way his fingertips drummed upon his desk and his eyes flickered over his paperwork, it was clear he was growing tired of the woman’s condescending attitude. He had sacrificed the best years of his life and gained a lifetime of debt to become one of the best Clinical Hypnotherapists of the time. But parents, siblings, spouses and representatives of the state all believed that they were the experts in matters such as these. Dr. Frankos was really starting to believe that he was not paid enough.
"Mrs Hopkins… Please, I understand your frustration", Dr Frankos started, taking off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose before placing the black rims back upon his face. “You need to consider that at this moment in time, Emily is a very fragile and vulnerable young lady. She has sustained a significant amount of physical and emotional trauma in the last four months. Regression hypnosis can bring back repressed memories, of course! However, people under hypnosis can often remember things quite vividly that never actually happened, but which have great personal significance nonetheless. With Emily’s current state of mind, she’s at an increased risk of being unable to distinguish between intense and possibly disturbing fantasies and memories. The consequences could be devastating to her mental health!”
The older woman dropped her black leather handbag onto his desk in exasperation. It was her turn to become frustrated at other person’s inability to understand. "Are you quite possibly suggesting that she could get much worse? Be reasonable. Look at her for Heaven’s sake!"
Both the elderly lady and the Doctor turned to look at a completely absent Emily with her petite and frail body swallowed up in the cream suede seat she was sat in. Once warm and inviting, Emily’s brown eyes were dull, showing no sign that she knew where or who she was, let alone anything else to do with the outside world. Her honeycomb coloured hair was usually curled and full of volume, however in recent weeks it hung straight and limp across a pallid and grey complexion. The only sign of colour in her face were the healing red cuts upon her lips and the deep purple bruising upon her high cheekbones. Staring off into space, Emily didn’t realise her grandmother giving her a gentle shake.
Half an hour later resulted in Emily being manoeuvred and Emily was lay down upon Dr Frankos' divan and his soft hypnosis script carried lightly in the air. “Emily, imagine you are in a room with a table with a single chair in the centre. The walls around you are filled with shelves stacked to the ceiling with many, many books. Take the first book and open it to the first page…” In her mind, Emily was fully functioning and doing as she was told; noticed that the date in the book was today’s date.
“Okay Emily, you’re doing really well. Now, turn the pages until you find the page that shows the night of your escape…” Emily’s heart started to race and her eyes flickered underneath her closed bruised eyelids. Tracing her fingertips over the the book, the pages turned. Instinctively, her page turning stopped upon the right page and from nowhere she heard an invisible voice asking about what the picture in the book looked like. She refused to open her eyes to see what the monstrosity would look like upon the page. It was something she wanted to forget, not be reminded of. “Emily, what do you see in the picture” the omnipresent voice pressed.
Taking a deep breath with some pain in her ribs, Emily forced herself to open one frightened eye. And then opened another one. There was nothing on the page. Or the next. Or the next. She flicked desperately through the pages before realising that there was not a single botch of ink amongst the papers. Lifting her gaze from the book of her life she was startled to find she was no longer in the room with the books. Or even with her grandmother and therapist. She stood in a vast grassy field. There was nothing but the slightly lilac sky above her and a warm breeze that soothed her battered face. No one was attempting to talk to her or about her. No one was trying to protect her or harm her. It was peaceful here in the solitary landscape. It was satisfying enough to be a dream, if not heaven itself.
How long had he been here? Not even He knew anymore...
A man dressed sharply in white wandered the wastes, his strange shadow morphed and swam beneath him in strange shapes. The Man-In-White came and went as he pleased, a passenger and traveler of the Void. He'd seen countless stars zip by in a wink, be born from dust and die in all consuming explosions. How he loved to travel...
There were strange characters here, then again he was a strange one himself. A smile spread across his face from ear to ear that would be at home on any shark, or even the Cheshire Cat. Long cuts at the corners of his mouth suggested that it was less than natural.
"Loki", or an avatar claiming to be, lived and lurked here. A mischievous character for sure. As well the boatman "Charon", who, ushered those dead and lost to this forsaken place. Once again the Man-In-White remembered how good it was to come and go as he pleased...
((Not sure if this is a good entry post sweatdrop ))
There was a man at the dock. Or rather, pieces of a man. Scraps of a man held together roughly by bones. Certainly a sight to see, much like the vast expanse beyond the pole he was leaning against, where a boat should soon be arriving.
Everything about the girl was smooth. Her skin, creamy and freckled. Her hair, albeit messy and short, teal and choppy under a crudely tied bandana. Her breathing, the rise and fall of her thin chest. The movement of her eyelids over her bright green eyes, her entire being simply moved so fluidly she looked almost as if she were moving underwater. Her hair even seemed to bounce a bit more than it should about her round head.
She had found her own way in to this world to conduct business. She was a mender of loose ends, a doer of deeds. This man certainly appeared to have some loose ends.
She approached from behind, and said nothing. She lay her hand so lightly on his shoulder, drawing it across the exposed blades of his back, her touch cool, not much like the warm hand of anyone with a normal body temperature. Just as softly as she had lay her hand on him, she removed it, and came to stand beside him, her smile chiseled so like the Chesire cat's, sharp and toothy, ear to ear.
If Bonez had eyelids he would’ve blinked when he heard the female speak with him. Instead his face being mostly bones the most he could be satisfied with is his remaining eye peering at her as if she was crazy. He had seen the living travel here often. Most of the time they were strung on drugs, or insane to begin with, it certainly didn’t help when it came to talking to them. IT made him the only sane man in the room, at least he was already dead so he didn’t have to worry about being killed twice.
“I’m waiting for the boat…” Keep it short and simple. Not that he cared but he really wasn’t cozy with the lady minding his business. Her grin made him feel a bit uneasy, it was welcoming in it’s own sense but it still made him feel quite uncomfortable. Taking a few puffs of his cigarette he raised his own eyebrow, crossed his arm. Was she alive anyway, he certainly wasn’t sure her touch was cold, very cold even people in cool temperature had at least a bit of heat that he could feel.
“So Mind me asking what brings you here?” Asked the spectre. He flicked his cigarette away and into the water, he was certain this place didn’t care much about pollution of it’s precious resources.
The boat. Anyone who ended up here was waiting for it.
"I'm a professional renaissance journeyman." she said, her eyes moving faster than other part of her body had thus far, as they watched him flick away the butt of his cigarette. "Talented in all trades, able with all sorts of abilities."
She slipped a hand behind his neck, her fingertips turning to a thick, swirling purple smoke, as did the rest of her arm, as it thinned in to a rope, a tendril that flowed through the holes in his head, moving like rapidly growing, viney weeds.
"I work for you, if you have things that need working."
It was moments like this that made the other world shake. That rip in their lives when the worlds merged together as result to a wandering mind. It was slow forming, the vision this person wanted so dearly yet it was like flipping the pages of the book. Once you reached the end, the image was there. Soft grassy fields, the tickling breeze that left your skin sun kissed.. and the things that settled behind your back that waited for you to turn around. Empty and alone in the field, left behind in silence only to wonder what it really was like in the world without you. Such a simple paradise so easily obtained -- the silver platter laid out for you to bask in.
The creep and crawl across one's shoulder would make them turn. Those hard headed would resist and it would take the sweet laughter that chimed out in soft melodic tones that it resembled a siren's call. Eyes would fall on the forest that laid in wake at their once exposed back while giggles continued to ring across the way. Mild flashes would streak through the trees at the edge of the the forest, children playing with each other. It was too dark to see far into it, to see where they ran off to.. only their cries of joy left to taunt the curious mind that now watched the 'calm' forest.
A chance at a real childhood. The temptation of being accepted for being one's self and not having to worry about repercussions... or being home late. It was just too good to be true, but your mind wouldn't see that. It was your dream. Anything you could ever want it to be. Now why would trouble be waiting for you? After all... you can't be hurt in a dream.
He stood still while the tendrils began to wrong across his body. “I’m sorry miss, but I do not have anything for you to d…” His mouth went partially agape however when the weeds began to grow out of his head. It wasn’t exactly his plan for the day to have his brain used as a flowering pot, nor did he want to be annoyed in order to pick it out. He reached into his holster, grabbed his Single Action Army, turned around and aimed at the female’s head.
“Miss, I’m not sure what you are getting at, but I am certainly in no need for help…” He didn’t have any past transgressions he needed to solve. His one order was to bring clensing for those who have sinned. Not that his religious orders didn’t make him sick, but it simply was his curse to live by. He rattled his head hoping to get her plants out of his head.
“So can you please tell me what you want from me miss?” He wasn’t about wasting time and he needed to travel BACK to the world of the living if he had any plans on continuing his job.
She hummed quietly as he spoke to her, and when he suddenly turned, all the roots of her fingers puffed away in to a mist, her arm appearing to made only of smoke. She held up what was left of her arm, as it faded back in to existence.
"Aww, you can shoot, but you'd be wasting a bullet." She said softly, hands up in forfeit. She inhaled deeply, and as her lungs drew in air, she floated upwards, her body swirling to purple smog as she did so, until there wasn't any sort of human-esque thing about her anymore. She was a cloud of purple smoke, not even the shape of the girl she had just been.
The fog floated about him, in and out of the wounds in his rotting body, the air cool and soft. It was all very quick, like a short, gusty breeze, and the smoke fell to the dock, pooling and then mushrooming back up in to the girl it had once been. She looked him up and down, while she was solidifying. She ignored his question, and asked her own. "You're going back to the world of the living looking like that?"
He was about to speak when the female surprised him by turning into a purple miasma. If the male could raise an eyebrow he certainly would at this point. Not every day that you see a female just turn into a puff of smoke and begin to crawl around your body. The cool air caused the normally angry male to relax himself as bit whist she passed herself throughout his body.
He had to question the reason on why she decided to violate his dead body as a puff of smoke. However, he was sure that he probably wouldn’t get an answer if he did so. Instead, he stood there slightly shrugging off most of the feeling of her body running through him. The one thing he couldn’t ignore however was the sound. The cold smoke hastily going past his body, created a whistle that began to sound like wind pipes. Funny, he didn’t know his body could double as a musical instrument.
He crossed his arm once she decided to stop playing with his body. With her body beginning to solidify back to it’s humanoid form He answered her question with a mere shrug. “I am dead you know that?” He began to check the holes of his body to see if she had taken anything that he had store in his duster or anywhere else. He had run into his share of thieves and by doing so gave Cheron a a few more passengers in his wake.
“Do you really think I care about how I dress, I have a job to do…” He said. He twirled his revolver and placed it back in it’s holster.
Off in some forsaken form othe realm energies began to coalesce. Swirling together in an ever darkening bubble that seemed to bleed the shadows from their spots. Energy popped and crackled on an audible level as they were melded in ways they were never meant to be melded. Sparks beginning to form as the atomic structures of everything began to vibrate and allow their molecules to rub against each other. Positive and negative energy being released out in abundance. The doorway was being...forced into the Nether realm. Forced from another realm of torture and blood.
The negative energy began to part ways with its polar opposite as the death and decay of the very placed powered the entrance. Sparks spitting ever more from the small circle of energy as it began to expand exponentially. Slowly becoming the size of a door. Then the size of twin doors. Then the size of palace gates. At that it began to slowly solidify. The will power on the other side of these doors making the energy his ******** b***h as if it was nothing. As he forced the energy to change and bend once more to something it wasn't used to being; a solid. Darkened marble began to form along the outskirts of the door. The door itself was worn wood spattered with gore, obvious wear and tear of what would assume people trying to get in...or out of whatever hell this being was coming from.
Eventually, as the doors became a solid, front and back, they'd begin to open outwards towards the on lookers; if there were any. A miasma of red mist would roll out. With it the smells of multitudes of dead and decaying bodies. The smell of freshly spilt, as well as, old blood intermingling. A place that had been around for decades, millineia, epochs, and every other form of measurement. The being that was exitting was just the current owner of such a place.
A foot would show itself out of the mist and fog. A clean polished dress show attached to long legs that were covered by, what looked like, an expensively tailored dress pants. Another leg and shoe would quickly follow as it became apparent that the figure before them was well dressed. An expensively tailored dress shirt, coat, and tie would then be visible followed by a trailer red scarf that moved and twitched with the being's movements...Wait, did it just move on its own as the being stopped? This was all punctuated by a wide brimmed felt hat that hid the being's features. Yet, the smell of decay and death clung to him like cologne he had just sprayed.
Suddenly the doors slammed shut shutting off the miasma to continue. As it began to dissipate within the surrounding regions the doors would suddenly explode outwards. Causing the wide brimmed hat to fly off as the energy began to reassert itself in the natural order of things. The face of the being would be seen for but a brief second as he'd bend down to retrieve his attire. Skin hung slack on his features, eyes that seemed to just be bottomless pits of darkness. Teeth were definitely missing. His hands were the same as he'd adjust the hat back on his head and he began to walk forth.
The open air snarled and shrieked as a tear formed in the environment. Nature itself seemed to scream, as if fighting a rape in progress as the whole widened on an alien star scape somewhere in the cosmos. No dark figure emerged, but one clad in sharp yellow, his face hidden behind a yellow silken mask, save for two yellow unblinking eyes. His greasy blonde hair was swept back, and a jagged crown sat squarely on his head, as a yellow cape and robes rustled around him. The King had come...
His breathing sounded labored and wet, like a swimmer who's throat was clogged with sea weed. His presence was not one of dignity, but of malice, and with every step he took one could tell that something wicked had come.
The King had arrived near some kind of a dock, and could sense the presence of other figures in this strange outer world. Most notably though, he felt the power of HIM...
Long had the king been forced to search for the White-Man. He would have his debt repaid! This chase across universes and dreamscapes could only go on for so long.
There were others that he could see by the strange dock, waiting for a ferryman or craft to take them elsewhere. This was a place where the dead, lost, and stranger denizens of the universe came apparently. He doubted if many could come and go the same as him and his quarry.