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 Posted: Tue Oct 13, 2009 5:30 pm
Shyme turned to glance at Silver as his words trailed off and her questions hung heavily in the dusty air. She noticed he was staring at her in a way that could only be described as fondly! She blushed and cleared her throat, turning her attention back to her drawing as he began to speak again.
Listening, she illustrated a great tree in the dust on the table. The branches were numerous and spread grandly out, reaching up to the sky ever smaller and thinner the higher they went. Below the line of the ground the roots spread equally far and deep. On the ground near the base of the tree sat a fat porcupine or hedgehog--it was difficult to decipher. In the lower branches of the tree a pine marten scolded the poor dull thing below.
She allowed him to finish responding to everything she had said, and gave it all a moment of consideration before responding. She turned her chair towards the couch where he had made himself comfortable.
"I'm not going back, so don't concern yourself with thinking that over any further. I'm a little hurt that you couldn't even manage a postcard, but I can see-" at this she gestured around the room, "that things have become very complicated since you left, so I will forgive you, but I expect you to work to make up for the four years we've missed."
At this she smiled warmly, dragging a sleeve across the dusty drawing on the table and obscuring it completely.
"The past is in the past. I'm sure with time the stories will come out. For now, you and I need to consider our marriage. We have to become re-accustomed to each other, we have to find a permanent residence where I'll be ahh-- safe in your estimation, and we have to stay together, whatever trouble or danger there is."
Here her look became more difficult to read. She looked away from him, and pretended to dust the table completely off.
"I won't go back home. There's nothing to go back to. Papa has passed away--four months ago. I am completely alone without you."
She made no further comment, but got up from the table, took up a hand towel in the kitchen area, dampened it in the sink, and began to dust the counter tops, and check the cupboards as she made passes over them. He could well remember that when she was upset, she tended to busy herself to keep from thinking too hard on unhappy subjects, even if she were dead tired and hungry.
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Posted: Fri Oct 16, 2009 11:50 pm
.The Game of Nothingness. From the very start Alice knew there was something off with this individual. He was the very picture of properness and formality but after a very long day. Everything was right, just as everything was off. His hair was disheveled and his eyes were dark and shadowed. The top two buttons of his dress shirt were undone revealing pale white skin and the very edges of some sort of black markings that graced up and across his neck and collar. His striped sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his hands moved with an unsettling sort of speed and grace. His fingers were long and white, but stained with a plethora of colors that blended and smudged together into a dull gray black matte that caked under his finger nails and made his fingertips looked bruised and worn. Coupled with the vacant and yet intense look on his eyes as he worked, and the way he kept licking his lips, the man looked as if he had clawed his way out of a grave from centuries ago and wanted brains. Or worse. All and all, Alice was beginning to think this was a bad idea. It was late. Perhaps too late. The sign outside the door said that this shop was open until eight and it was only half passed seven, but when all her attempts at small talk returned only the shortest of answers Alice though that perhaps she had annoyed the man. She had asked if her visit was too late, and he informed her the shop closed every night at eight sharp, sometimes later but never sooner. Still she could not shake the feeling that perhaps she was that last minute customer that absolutely no one likes. The one that makes you wish you had closed shop an hour ago. He had checked his pocket watch several times. Her sisters present could have waited until morning...maybe it should have? Alice was full of doubts and then the trinket was done, and his eyes fell on her and all her doubts were gone. Alice was absolutely certain this was a bad idea. He did not look at her, he looked through her. It was as if she was nothing more than a glass showcase for something entirely too delicious to ignore. He looked at her like a thing, like a dessert, like a hungry man looks at steak. The haunting operatic music filling the small shop and making it feel a vampire's lair did not help. " Its done." He said in an almost melodic tone, and then he smiled cordially and her heart jumped up into her throat. Those were not teeth. Those were fangs. A mouth full of them, each one sharp and pointed drawing a zig-zag line across his face. Then he licked his lips again. Alice took a step back from the counter, and the man reacted immediately as if he'd been strung. He leaned back, closing his mouth and dropping his head as he began wrapping the trinket, as if to cover what he had accidentally shown. Shaken to the core Alice hugged her purse closer to her body, she had pepper spray...as if something like that could be stopped by mere pepper spray. She was the last customer...alone with something, in its shop, and simply could not shake the fear that perhaps this time being that annoying customer...could be fatal. " That will be 42 gold pieces." He said softly, without looking up. Should she run? If she bolted for the door would he catch her? Would he chase? No. She had to play this calm, her heart was beating like a war drum in her chest but she had to stay collected. Dont panic...they can smell fear. She concentrated on every movement, making it all deliberate, no hesitation to show how unsettled she truly was. She purposefully pulled her bag from over her shoulder and then she directly set it down on the counter. She paused, taking a deep breath and doing her best to look him bravely in the eye. Tenaciously she popped open her purse, steadfast she reached inside. A few coins jingled softly before she resolutely offered a handful of coins to the man on the other side of the counter. She did her best to hide the quiver in her voice as she spoke. " Here you go." He did not respond. He did not move. His eyes moved like pale marbles in his skull rolling slowly up from the trinket before him, to her hand. Not the coins in her hand...but her hand. And she knew it. She could feel his gaze on her like a palpable thing. She watched his lips twitch, and felt her legs quiver with the need to run, fast and far. His right hand rose and his fingers grazed her palm...each fingertip icy cold, chilling as death. His hand stopped, just over her coins, and his eyes snapped up to meet hers and he grinned a terrible and wicked grin that sent a shiver up and down her spine. Alice was caught between the desire to faint, swing, or simply run. And just as her mind cemented itself on the later, he scooped up the coins and softly said. " Thank you." And set the wrapped gift on the counter. Without another word Alice nodded, snatched up the gift and bolted for the door. She dare not run, but she walked as fast as she could, swung open the shop door and vanished into the night. At best, she had survived a brush with death. At worst a terrifying but innocent shop keeper might think she was rude. Either way she was free. Adrenaline coursed through her like a drug and even despite the danger being passed she could not bring herself to slow. The only sound echoing down the empty Latent street was the clip clop of her high heels. And then she heard the door to that horrible shop close a second time and. Alice felt her heart stop. She felt her blood run cold. Terror told her to keep walking, dont look back, dont act suspicious. She heard the shopkeepers smooth voice in her hand reminding her that the shop closed at eight sharp, never sooner. Trying her very best to appear casual she rolled up her sleeve and checked her watch. The bright teal night light digits read brightly and mockingly back to her, 7:45 PM. For the first time her life, Alice was afraid she was going to die. Every little boy and girl fears monsters in their mind. Creatures that haunt the night and live in closets and under beds. But as one grows older, such fears become sources of entertainment. Alice was very much a fan of the occasional scary movie. She loved the dark romances portrayed in one too many supermarket novels. Monsters were all sweet beautiful creatures that only wanted to be loved, and make love. She had read the entire Twilight saga twice. She imagined she could woo a fiend if she ever met one. Alice considered herself a self styled master when it came to all creatures that went bump in the night. And yet despite all this, alone on a brisk autumn evening in an empty town, she could not stop her legs from quickening her pace to a brisk jog, and she could not keep the tears from blurring the edges of her vision. Latent had quickly become her enemy. She was a fan of growth, a fan of progress but over the years the small towns market had become more of a tiny city at the center of a town. And at night, it was nothing more than hall after hall of hollow store fronts, threatening mannequins and pallor. And now...it was home to a monster. Panic was overtaking Alice as she turned her first corner, she wished and begged with every inch of her heart for safety. And so when she saw a police officer leaning against his car her heart jumped. " OFFICER!" She cried out. " OFFICER!" She wave frantically, afraid that if she said the word "Help" that in the few seconds it took for her to reach the policeman, he would jump her and it would be over. " Easy there ma'am." Said the policeman warmly, his hands immediately moving to her shoulders in a secure grasp to show she was steady and safe. Alice's fear was visible, her makeup was smudged, her breath was heavy and for a woman in a white skirt and blouse and high heels she looked like she had just run a marathon. " He...there...its..." Alice tried to speak between gasps for air. " Calm down, say it slowly. Who? What? Where?" Said the policeman comfortingly. " He....shop owner. A man in black, with terrible eyes...huge teeth, and he's following me!" She gasped, desperately reaching out grabbing his blue uniform shirt. " Where? Right now?" The officer said, cocking an eyebrow. Alice nodded rapidly. The officer craned his neck and peered over her shoulder, and then shook his head. " Ma'am, there is no one behind you." Alice whipped her head around in disbelief. " But..but I!" " Whats your name Ma'am?" " A..Alice...Alice Carroll." She said hesitantly. " Where do you live ma'am?" " 1135 Wershington and Palm...apartment 5." "Wershington and Palm? Well thats about a four block walk, two blocks if you a take that shortcut." The cop pointed to a dimly lit alley behind him. Alice eyed him as if he were insane. " I know, dark scary alley, but I just patrolled and I know its safe. Beside, I'll be here to watch if anyone tries to follow you in. Two lefts and a right, and you'll be home." The intensity in her eyes faded, this was a police officer. A large muscled man with a gun, easily twice the size of the shop keeper. Her eyes darted back to the empty street behind her, clinging to the idea that it was safe. She wanted it to be safe, she wanted the world to be right again, not scary. " It looks like you've had a long night, why dont you go on home and sleep all of this off." She looked at the officer hesitantly for a moment, and then nodded, forcing a smile onto her face as she thanked him and turned toward the alley. It was dark, it was smelly, but at least it was safe.With each step the alley grew darker, but with each quiet step it grew safer. The nightmare from moment before faded into just that, nightmare. A waking dream, albeit a horrible one. One completely unable to hurt her. She chuckled to herself for being so very silly. She had never even seen that terrible thing leave his shop-like lair. This was clearly all in her head. By the time she reached the first fork in the back alley Alice was bathed in darkness, the only light to guide her path was moonlight reflecting silver off of garbage can lids and puddles of dirty water. Two lefts and a right, she reminded herself. She was about to turn left when felt a bit of guilt, she had been a wreck in front of that poor cop. At the very least she owed him a wave and a thank you. Alice turned to face the mouth of the alley, to face the big strong cop, and his nice fast car. But there was nothing. No cop. No car. She hadnt heard an engine start. She hadnt heard footsteps carry anyway away. But the street lamp above the cop car was off and all that was left where safety once stood was darkness. Darkness, and at its center a single white point of light atop the silhouette of a dark clad man, the white glow emanating from where its head should be. And then the silhouette smiled liked the edge of a knife and the moonlight reflected off a perfect white set of fangs filling an inhuman. Alice did not pause. She did not concern herself with what may or may not startle the beast. She ran. Her heart could not pump fast enough, her legs could not run fast enough to outrun her fear. Two lefts and a right. She darted around the corner, tearing down the alley as fast she possibly could. She cursed herself for never doing her cardio. She berated herself for never joining the track team in high school. For never riding that stationary exercise bike collecting dust in her bedroom. Alice ran...and ran hard, the next left seemed a lifetime away. And if she stopped, she knew deep in her heart that it would be. Halfway down the alley she looked back over her shoulder. Over the sound of her own breath, over the beating of her heart, over the haunting melody that played in his shop and now repeated in her mind, she could hear his footsteps. They were soft and steady, not hurried or rushed. And there he was, a telltale point of light, a single white beacon locked on her and only her. With her head turned, Alice did not see the spilled bag of garbage. She tripped. With a sickening pop both of her high heels snapped and Alice tumbled to the ground, her knees hit first scraping off a layer or two of skin and tearing her white stalkings. Her hands quickly shot out in front of her, catching her fall as jagged bits of old stone dug into her palms and filthy water sprayed all over her snow white clothes, and into her mouth. She coughed, she spat, she kicked off the ground. Her dress shoes skidded and slipped and she could feel him. Feet, maybe inches, and then her shoes finally found purchase and she was off. The closer she got the next left the more obvious it became. A wavering orange glow was pouring from the mouth of the second alley. Fire. And fire meant life, someone else to help. She tried to scream but with her heart pounding and her lungs burning like hellfire no sound escaped her, only a dry gasp. Desperate and terrified Alice darted around the second left and smashed head on into another human being standing beside a garbage can alive with fire. The bum wobbled, but like most drunks did not fall, while Alice tripped and crashed gracelessly into a pile of old boxes. " Thats ma'house!" The bum shouted angrily. " Help me! Please help me!" " No, you halp me! I got no house!" " I'll get you a new house, I'll get you anything, PLEASE, he's com--" Alice's breath chocked off as the nightmarish silhouette of black turned the corner. Despite the fire, the entire alley seemed to grow darker. As if he did not know light, as if it would never again know light. The fire glinted off his grinning teeth and skin in a pale yellow. The blaze fought to survive against an unseen force. Alice struggled to breath, struggled to speak. She shoved herself backwards, pushing with her hands and legs, skittering back, and fighting for distance so she could stand. And then she ran. And ran hard. " Who's come..." Said the bum slowly as he turned his head and saw the nightmare behind him. The garbage fire was quickly becoming embers. The black clad man's right hand whipped out as fast as snake smacking into the bum's forehead. The homeless drunk did make a sound. And then the fire was gone, Alice whipped her head back around and so was the bum. Vanished. Gone. As if swallowed up by the night itself without a trace. Was that going to be her fate too? The glowing white eye fell back on her, and then that twisted grin. " LEAVE ME ALONE!" Alice screamed as loud as she possible could, and then again she ran. Behind her she heard the soft clicks of his shoes hitting concrete, steady even steps. But no matter how fast she ran, no matter how far he seemed to get the sound was always on her heels. As if he were nothing more than an arms reach away. Her legs were wet with blood from the scrapes on her knees, her hands balled into tight wet fists, squeezing blood from the cuts on her palms between her fingers. The pain was sobering, it kept her focused, it kept her from giving up and simply accepting a gruesome end. But safety was coming. Above the tops of the nearest buildings Alice could see flashing red and blue lights. The police officer did not vanish, he was ahead of her, waiting for her. Maybe her scream had alerted him and he would be hear in minutes, mere minutes. A few words, her last bit of safety replayed in her mind. Two lefts. She said to herself, as she reached her last turn in the path, a left here and a right a couple hundred feet ahead. She would turn this last corner and see her muscled hero with a gun, this nightmare would be over. Two lefts then a left. And Alice turned left, into a dead end. Dread over came her. From no more than a foot behind her a voice which would haunt her nightmares for the rest of her life melodically whispered. " Alice..." " No!" Alice snapped back her voice riddled with fright as she charged blindly into the dead end, her blouse snagging on the sharp edge of a rusty dumpster and sending her crashing down yet again. On her hands and knees Alice scuddled to the farthest wall, smacking her back against it. " Alice, I'm very hungry...its quite rude to make me run all across town..." "I dont want to die! PLEASE! PLEASE JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!" On her hand and knees she begged, tears streaming freely down her face and falling wet into her stained lap. Torn, cut, bleeding and dirty Alice was a woman at her end. Moonlight pooled around her from a breach in the clouds, as if Heaven itself was listening for her final words. " I just wanted a present for my sister! Dont you have family?! Please dont ...d..dont...dont eat me!" The outline of a person did not stop, it did not slow or hurry it simply walked calmly and evenly. Its head cocked awkwardly to the side like some sort of broken bobble head doll. " I wont do it again, I promise! I'll come an hour before any store closes, h-here, just take it! Leave me alone!" His fingers skirted the edge of her private pool of moonlight, she tossed the neatly wrapped trinket and while she saw nothing move, she was sure he caught it and placed it in something. He reached forward, his long white hand was stained a pure white as it entered the moonlight. It looked like some macabre albino spider, like death's own bony hand come to take her life away. At the sight of his knuckles alone Alice squeezed her eye shut and begged over and over again. " No, no, no, no, no..." Memories of her sister, her mother, her birthdays, her friends, everything that made her herself flashed in her mind like a broken and random flip. And then something cold and leathery touched the edge of her nose. He was holding something. Something horrible. Maybe a severed head or limb! " ....Alice." His voice barely a whisper on the wind. " NO!" She screamed, anger overcame fear and she shoved her arms forward thrashing her limbs, opening her eyes wide when she struck his hand and the object in his hands fell into her lap. Alice felt her blood run cold. She looked at it, then up at him, his white face almost glowing in the moonlight. Then back at it, then back at him. She tried to speak but no words came out, and then the man in black, her living nightmare, her personal monster, spoke. And he said simply this..." ....You forgot your purse." Written for and inspired by: Ms. Conspiracy. And as so very nicely requested, written to: The Game of Nothingness by Malice Mizer.
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Posted: Sat Dec 12, 2009 2:39 am
Irreplaceable
- Part 1 of 3 -
Cemetery Feeling If there is one place on the earth that can singularly embody the concept of mortality, it is only natural that it be a cemetery; neither the place where men are born or where they die, but the place where they come to rest for eternity thereafter. Cold, lifeless, and mere shells of what they might have been during their lifetimes the bodies lain to rest in pine boxes and pretty little rows beneath the soil would never again laugh, cry, or raise their fist in anger. For one to reflect upon the subject of death, there is truly no better place for it than surrounded by the dead. Silent contemplation was not the purpose of this visit though… perhaps it was an unintended side-effect of the surroundings, but reflecting upon those that were dead and gone was not something that this visitor had any interest in. The dead were gone, the living remained, and every so often that line blurred. There were times when the dead refused to remain in their place and walked among the living, and also… “Cover it up, someone will see!” whispered one voice in the dark, the docile tone shrill with excitement. The dim light of a candle’s flame flickered weakly in the night’s darkness, creating darkened edges and long shadows upon the face of a young girl. Her companion answered with a chuckle and a nod, cupping his hand around the candle’s tip so that the small point of light would not give them away. They were so bad. Teenagers, doing as teenagers would do in their youthful ignorance and youthful bliss. The girl had made the plan, and tonight just the two of them had snuck out after their parents had gone to bed and met two blocks from the cemetery where they now stood. It was a cheap thrill, but an effective one; her heart raced just by being there, her mind was filled with ghost stories and urban legends as the two found a place to huddle down between the graves and spread a blanket upon the grass. She loved occult novels and dark fantasy fiction, and at least for tonight she felt as if she were in the center of her own ghost story with the strong, courageous young man from the football team on her arm just in case something did happen. It was the perfect night for this, she had even checked the weather to make sure that the sky would be clear for the new moon so that her plans for a memorable evening would not be spoiled by rain. No doubt the boy only had plans to get laid. “How much longer?” asked the young man as he set the candle on the grass beside them and sat down upon the blanket beside her, close enough for her to lean her shoulder against his chest as his arm slipped nonchalantly around her waist so that his hand could rest upon her thigh. The girl was beside him, her knees pulled against her chest and her arms wrapped around them to fight off the night’s chill that seemed all the more appropriate in their current surroundings. A pale light illuminated her face as she opened her cell phone to check the time: 11:49 PM. “Eleven minutes,” she said back to him, leaning her weight against his chest with a contented sigh. It was the perfect setup for a perfect moment… sitting there with her boyfriend in the center of a cemetery as the hour ticked over to midnight on a moonless night. Her heart was racing and it wasn’t from the sensation of his strong fingers caressing her leg. It wasn’t just from that anyways. The boy mumbled something incoherent in response, taking that as meaning that they had eleven more minutes until he should let her pay attention to anything but him. He heard the sound of her phone clicking shut but only saw the pale light disappear from the grave markers behind her because by then he had already leaned in, sweeping back her hair and putting his mouth to her neck. Like many girls she seemed to have that fetish of having her neck bitten and he wasn’t one to complain… it was a fast and easy way to get her motor running and it was hardly something he would ever think of objecting to anyways. They had time to play around, and she was already so worked up from being where they were it was almost like his job was half done already. There was a faint sound of grass tearing under the pressure as the blanket slid a few inches to the side as he pushed her onto her back. Though it was dark he could feel her shudder slightly at his touch as he slid his hand under her jacket and up to her chest. “Cold,” muttered the girl in slight protest; his hand was like ice on her hot stomach and the hem of her jacket was pushed up by his arm as he slid it up to grope her, allowing the cold air to flow in under her shirt and bring with it the night’s chill. She lay her head back on the blanket, hearing the stiff grass crunch slightly as she lay it down and her hand dug into her jacket pocket for a small plastic bag. While he did his thing she wanted to enjoy it more. She pushed him away from her with her free hand and pushed the balled up zip-seal bag into his hand. He knew what she wanted without having to ask. He took a joint from the bag and shoved the rest of it into his side pocket for safe keeping; sitting up again and leaning in towards the flickering candle that sat beside them casting shadows across the headstones in their row. As the small flame scorched through the rolled marijuana he heard the sound of her jacket unzipping behind him and cracked a lecherous grin at the thought. “I don’t know if sitting here waiting for midnight is gonna do it for me,” he said with a clear purpose in mind as he took a drag from the joint and settled back on his haunches. “We should kick it up a notch. Make it a bigger thrill. What do you think-“ “Shh.” Her arms went around his shoulders and her bare chest pressed firmly against his back with a sudden intense tightness. “Oh baby you know I like-“ “Shut up already!” she answered with a hiss, cutting him off in a hushed and frightened tone. She squeezed against him tighter, her body tense and rigid, waiting in the candlelight for something… something that did not happen. Her grip loosened after the moment had passed, and the boy turned to her and put his arm around her shoulders. “I thought I heard something,” she protested. “You’re just freaking out. It’s nothing,” was his answer. “Relax and take a huff babe.” Her hand was trembling only slightly as she took the joint from him and breathed the smoke deeply to calm her nerves. This place really was creepy at night, it wasn’t just all about the atmosphere and the superstition but sitting in an open field at night there were bound to be noises. It really was just all in her nerves even if she had honestly heard something then… but she was tense and she was anxious now, and the mood was dead like everything else in this place except her boyfriend’s toy soldier. “The graves getting on your nerves, babe? Think something’s gonna claw its way up and come crawlin’ for ya?” “Cut it out,” she said, pushing his hand off of her breast with a grumble. His desperate attempts to salvage the situation weren’t doing much and she had started to feel the chill again now that her jacket was open. Her wrist tapped his shoulder and he took the half-burnt smoke from her hand, but when she reached for where she had tossed her bra his arm wrapped about her waist and pulled her to the blanket on her back with him atop her. “Don’ worry a thing about it babe. Anything that climbs out from these graves’ll get a punch in the face courtesy of yours truly.” The boy chuckled at his own masculinity, waving the smoking embers in his free hand in the air as he flexed his arm to give his girl a front row seat to the gun show. “Ain’t got to worry ‘bout a thi-“ Chk. The blade of a spade sank into the soft earth in front of their faces; the boy looking up and the girl on her back craning her neck in surprise as the faint silhouette of a figure in the darkness was illuminated by the tiniest flashes of candlelight. From their position on the ground their eyes were on an even level with the boot resting heavily upon the shovel’s edge; clumps of earth clinging to it and embedded in the tightly strapped laces as the spade sank in deeper, the figure leaning forward onto it as it loomed over them. It seemed infinitely tall looking up at it – a dark form appearing before them at midnight in a cemetery – and with no hesitation the figure reached forward a hand and took the cigarette from the boy’s hand with blackened, dirty fingers. “Is that a fresh grave?” A voice spoke out from the darkness, addressing the young couple directly even as the hand withdrew from the candlelight and a glowing red ember pierced the darkness like a single pinprick in the dark shroud of night. The hand moved away from the figure’s lips, flicking what little remained of the marijuana into the back of a gravestone. “I asked,” repeated the voice, “is that a fresh grave?” “Y-“ “Cody!” the girl clutched at her chest, pinning her jacket shut with one hand as she pressed backwards into the boy’s chest and away from the stranger. It seemed that she had not been hearing things after all… what she had heard in the night was the sound of someone other than themselves haunting this burial ground in the dead of the night. What she had heard was the sound of a grave being overturned and its contents removed. “Cody, huh?” answered the voice from the night. “You sounded pretty confident just now Cody. Are you still confident Cody?” “No I-“ “Are you a man?” “I didn’t-“ “Weren’t you going to punch me in the face?” “It’s-“ “Where are your balls, Cody?” The stranger stepped off from the spade and pulled it from the dirt by the handle, bringing it about to point at the young couple as he took a step forward into the dim light of the flickering candle. From head to toe he was covered in earth, it was smeared on his arms and his face and trapped in the folds of his clothes; but it was the sheer expression of utmost joy that was present upon his gray lips and blackened face that was most unnerving about him. He stepped forward again, holding the shovel ahead of him like a spear inching closer to the boy’s chest and forcing him to scramble backwards on his hands as the shovel forced him back. Until he could go no further. Until he felt the touch of cold stone to his back and the spade was still only inches from his neck. The boy could do nothing but shrink away against the pressure exuded by the stranger as the shovel raised up to his throat, drew back, and tapped lightly against the stone above his shoulder. “Out of my way, peon,” was the command he was given as the stranger pressed the muck-covered flat of the shovel blade against his head and shoved him aside. The faint candlelight barely illuminated the etching on the stone enough to be read but it was there… the deceased’s date of birth, the decease’s date of death, the proof that their little adventure had been made all the more naughty by planning to get it on atop a fresh grave. The stranger tapped the shovel’s tip against the stone, smiling within the shadow that was cast upon his face as his eyes read the name upon the stone again and again. It was a good name. He had a good feeling about this one. “Now,” he said with a laugh so pure and natural that it was chilling in such a situation, “are you two planning to ******** or not?” The girl was already gone, her undergarments still lay in the grass beside the candle but the girl herself had done her best to sneak away already; crawling on hands and knees through rows of tombstones and laid flowers with no light to guide her on a moonless night. The boy… well, the boy took a cue from his second lieutenant and kept his head down; knocking the candle onto its side and dousing the light as he scrambled fervently towards the city lights. The shovel’s tip dug into the earth in front of the headstone, flicking aside the blanket that had been laid across the grave along with the loose dirt that filled it. “At last we are alone…” said Joshua to the night; stabbing the spade into the ground again and throwing aside another shower of loose dirt atop the soiled blanket. “Let’s have a look at your pretty face.”
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Posted: Mon Dec 28, 2009 11:44 pm
A hospital...
It was an obvious choice, and James couldn't help but grin. Of course he'd still be in a hospital. The young Bushi chuckled and adjusted a white collared shirt, untucking it and smoothing it out. The day before he'd ended up ruining a man's hand in what was supposed to be a friendly match. To be expected for some, happily little for others, but for James Fujiyama, it was a black mark of dishonour.
And so it was, with his weapons stored away in a nice little hotel room he'd be staying at until he was finished with Leviathan Arena, that he found himself striding carefully into a specific room with a single bed, a small steel flask in his right hand. "I hope you like my food friend Mr. Daniels, Miller-san." the modern Samurai said to the other. "Just be careful, if the nurse catches you with it, methinks there may be trouble." He grinned and winked as he set the flask on the table beside.
"I do my research, Sydney... That is, if I may call you so. All things considered, my good friend may indeed have good things in store, so as to turn a proverbial frown upside-down, if you will pardon the tired expression." He leaned against a nearby wall, holding a nonchalant air as he did so. "In any event, I simply stopped by to apologize for what is best described as an unfortunate incident, and hopefully we may move through your recovery amicably." He nodded slightly.
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Posted: Tue Dec 29, 2009 12:21 pm
At last Syd was moved to a room to rest from the constant surgery he had been going through. His right hand had been cut completely in half. Most doctors said it was highly unlikely they would be able to save that hand of his and that it would most likely have to be amputated. Just the thought was horrible to Syd, he had already lost his left hand! Thoughts and doubts flew through his head, there was so much he couldn't place together and didn't know what to think anymore.
And then a visitor.
That guy who had actually done the deed of cutting Syd's hand in half. Usually Syd would be pretty damn pissed but he was hooked up to an IV of Morphine. And then there was the offer of the Jack Daniels. Who could possible turn that down? "Well I guess we'd have to push our luck then won't we?" Syd replied in a rather distant voice before reaching out with his right hand to take the flask before stopping. Still hadn't got used to it. He then took it up with his left metal hand and took the flask to his lips.
Syd listened to the man speak while he drank before placing the flask down to get out a reply. "What...Exactly does this friends of yours have in mind, hmmm?" He was obviously in another world with all the painkillers in his system, but Syd loved the feeling.
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Posted: Tue Dec 29, 2009 12:34 pm
"Well, he and I only spoke for a short time, as I still have yet to find a place where I can charge my comm, but he did mention a new model of cyberhand with a pneumatic plate on the knuckles. It detects muscle action and then at the point of impact of a well-timed punch, it applies two-hundred kilograms of force..." He motioned to his knuckles right where the fingers meet the rest of the hand. "Here, to wherever you're punching. That's four hundred forty pounds of additional power to your punch." He paused a moment to let that sink in. "Of course, I will pay for the hand, and have a contact of mine arrange for it to fall off the back of a delivery truck, so it will be without registration or all that other unnecessary annoyance."
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Posted: Wed Dec 30, 2009 2:53 pm
Syd lay and listened to the guy talk about this Cyberhand. It sounded damn strong, it was free, and had no need to be registered or anything. Sounded just plain perfect. Too perfect if anything. "So you're sayin' that it can apply a s**t load of force just like that? How does that happen? Seems near impossible to me." He questioned the idea near instantly. The idea behind it just seemed so impossible, yet in the back of Syd's mind he felt it could work. This is Gaia after all.
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Posted: Wed Dec 30, 2009 8:47 pm
"Five small pneumatic presses. The take a little charge time between punches, but if you throw a haymaker, it'll pound out the force... Essentially nanomachines graft receptors directly to your nerves, and those receptors report to an on-board optical computer. The entire array measures relative speed and power as well as pressure on the hand itself. If you throw a hard punch and it connects, the computer tells the presses to fire, and the plate pushes forward with four hundred pounds of applied force to an area..." He paused and looked at Syd's left hand. "Roughly seven or so square centimeters." He paused to do some math. "That's about a hundred and fifty pounds per square inch... From this." James demonstrated a hard right cross suddenly at the air. "Of course, calibration will have to be done, and you'll probably need about a week or so of getting used to it before it'll fire properly and you'll be in fighting form... I just hope you're ambidextrous."
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Posted: Tue Jan 05, 2010 4:41 pm
Syd simply accepted all of what the guy had to say. He had no reason to really doubt him at all. "So how long do I have to wait to get it 'installed', or whatever you wanna call it?" He then asked.
{[Sorry for the horribly small post. gonk ]}
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Posted: Tue Jan 05, 2010 5:54 pm
"Well, I can make a few short calls, and the doctor could arrive in... oh, roughly a month's time." James double-checked his mental math, and then nodded. "The surgery would take a day, recovery about a week, and then rehab two. At least, that's what friends have told me. Cyberhands are relatively easy on the body... Just be glad you're not going extreme and getting something like Wired Reflexes."
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Posted: Tue Jan 05, 2010 8:33 pm
"A Month?! Well ******** you can't get everything you want can you? Syd took another drink from the flask of Jack Daniels before placing it on the bedside table. At that exact moment Syd's busty nurse came strolling into the room.
"Is this man, bothering you Syd?" She asks with one of the hottest voices you could imagine. Syd looked up at the nice view before him for a few seconds before replying.
"Oh no, not at all, Veronika. He's a friend." A hot smile formed on Veronika's lips before she nodded and turned around to leave. Her hips just bouncing in a mesmerizing way.
But back to Business.
"Well for all this help, I haven't got your name yet."
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Posted: Tue Jan 05, 2010 8:45 pm
"James Fujiyama." he replied, moving from his spot on the wall and extending his left hand to shake. "And it is the least I could do. Taking your hand during what was supposed to be a friendly match was hardly an honourable act. Consider this an attempt to redeem myself." He smiled slightly. "It would be against my Code to simply let this slide."
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Posted: Sun Jan 31, 2010 6:04 pm
It was a lovely place.
To many in this bountiful world, the ocean was a terrifying thing. An endless, aquatic expanse; it swallowed vessels, drowned men, and averted comfort. It was a place to tread with great respect.
And it was this quality that made it the closest thing to a Heaven that those in Her service could relish.
The awareness brought a smile to Darion's face as he stood just behind the bow of the Dera, 2 miles from the docks of Latent. . His eyes were closed in a tranquil detachment as he allowed himself to become lost in the warm subtleties that his power offered him, his chest collapsing as he let out a content sigh.
The Eastern sea was teeming with thick clusters of life. Entire schools of fish darted about in all directions, the gaps between filled with bottom-feeders, predators, shellfish, and more. It was a place of harmony. A source of food and prosper for a group of people whom viewed it with hearty gratitude. The sensation of earthen-born creatures manifested itself as a dull warmth. A wave of activity washed over him, the feeling of homeostasis bringing him an eased euphoria.
The timeless beauty and perennial feeling of thousands upon thousands of fulfilled spirits brought him a rare moment of content, an actualization of a century of effort. Areas like Eastern Latent Sea were regretfully rare and unspeakably wonderful, and he relished them like a pauper did gold.
For a moment, he wished he could just stay right at this very spot. Simply lie back and allow himself to witness the peace forever. To feel the microcosm of what he had fought to achieve his entire life. To simply feel it all exist with a warm satisfaction and a blank mind.
To take a long, long deserved rest, and imagine that the entire world was composed of this very spot.
For a decade or two.
That would be lovely.
Yet he knew the only reason this haven existed was because of the tireless work and effort of the people of Latent. The men and women that would defend the sea with their very lives. And he knew that the only reason a handful of havens existed around the world were because of his own tireless efforts.
And thus, with a regretful acceptance, he tore himself from Heaven, that he could spread it elsewhere.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was freezing.
His presence at this nexus of energy was no coincidence, nor was it the first time the Earth had called to him. The planet had sent him a sign, and he had rushed to meet it.
The feeling was benign when he quite literally first caught wind of it; a passing chill in the air; a dull ache in his stiff fingers. And something else. Something odd, to say the least.
As he drew inland, the horizon painted shape not to his eyes, but to his intuition. The presence of land intensified the feelings of the air about him. Light hunches and obscure significance became a detailed account of the events transpiring on the distant shore.
His senses shifted toward the colossal expanse of trees before him. The Dead Forest. The wind gave fact to what men hinted at, and the result was rather disturbing. The warmth of terrestrial life was far too minute to detect. What instead snuffed out those feral embers was the chilling frost of demonic life. Scouring the eastern end of the forest, he knew what nature had requested he do.
However, the six billion year old sovereign was going to have to spare a few days.
For the lone trace of life he picked up on the edge of the forest rendered the mass within secondary in importance.
It was wind. That organic crosshair that marked things born not of this world. Yet the secondary telltale sign was temperature. A bitter chill indicated to him that the source was corrupted; a malicious creature wrought upon the Earth due to the folly of man and his insatiable meddling with the balance of life.
An occasional feeling was that of a lukewarm glow. This indicated that the source was foreign, yet had little trace of chaotic corruption. The tepid sensation almost permanently enveloped the nearby Leviathan Arena. Beings of such nature rarely posed any hostility. He had made it his practice to let them be, and grant them the courtesy they gave in kind.
What he felt now was neither of the two. It was an intense wind that forewarned against the presence of a magic-infused ritual. The temperature; however, was like that of a pleasant summer. The presence of both conditions was nigh contradictory. A being born not of this world, yet born of the Earth itself.
In all his years on this planet, he had not witnessed such a thing.
And for the first time in far, far too long, Darion's soft lips parted in a perplexed grin.
His time as a sentinel had jaded him somewhat. The youthful looking man carried experiences beyond the most decrepit of individuals, and though She had kept his skin youthful, his soul was left to spot and wrinkle as the large, mysterious home known as Gaia became as familiar as a birth mark.
But this... this was a mystery! He was utterly baffled as to the identity of the creature so very close to him, and his mind could not find the words to describe the relief which washed over him as he realized there was still much to learn, defecting instead to the glow of a wide pair of beaming eyes.
Only empiricism would sate his pursuit.
The Dera picked up speed.
And the hunter smiled.
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Posted: Thu Feb 25, 2010 4:00 pm
" Get back here!"
In many coastal towns, Pirates, theives and the like flourished in Trade heavy regions like the docs, where foreign merchants and even local merchants left wares out in the open. A quick handed individual could come away with a good haul and never be caught. But deeper into the city, those items could be fenced where stealing was harder to accomplish. Sometimes though, when the pickings were slim, pickpockets could find money inside the city.
The prime targets were still the same, Foreigners with valuables, or possible valuables, on their persons. Children and teenagers made perfect pickpockets, with their smaller hands or faster bodies. They could generally escape if their target was of an older persuasion. Damion, however, was likely one of the worst targets to be picked. Unrelenting and indefatiguable, He would chase a target to the ground if need be.
So it was no suprise that he had bolted after the 4 boys who had swiped the box Maximos had just asked him to deliver, taking it from off his fingertips in a sudden flash and bolting away down the sidewalk, laughing as they ran away. Taunts flew and died in the air as the sounds of their footsteps was joined by the rapid fire footsteps of the elemental. A cat and mouse game began, the scenery of the small city becoming an obstacle course.
" STOP ALREADY!"
Damion shouted again, running along the back of a bus bench, ignoring the angry cries of the people who had been previously occupying it. Produce chased him, several banana's and an apple that very nearly clocked the Hydra in the back of the head. Instead it shot ahead of him, bouncing off the heel of a fleeing youth and back into the air and down into Damion's waiting hand.
It didn't take him long to form the plan, throwing the apple hard and catching the rearmost boy in the back of the head, sending him tumbling headlong into a beautiful toperary bush, uprooting the plant in a sudden flurry as Damion sped past.
" Sorry!"
A cheap apology, but all he could offer as he sped up, trying to close the gap. The boys were fast, and knew the area better than he did, jumping over bushes the city had put out to decorate the sidewalks. Tree's made no obstacles to the darting group, weaving through them like training dogs. Pedestrians scattered or were knocked down, Slowing the boys down but clearing a path for Damion to close up, snagging hold of another of the young males and tossing him backwards like a discarded soda bottle.
This one he didn't spare the breath for an apology, Meerly taking his place as they shot across the street, cars screeching to halts and horns blaring into the sky, almost deafening the poor elemental. The runns didn't stop though, so neither could he, the last 2 boys scrambling up the ladder of a fire escape, heading for the roof as fast as they could. Damion shot up after them, using the rungs like branches and flying up them at all speed. Where they had to swing around to climb up the next ladder, he simple climbed the metal scaffolding, reaching the roof ahead of them and crouching at the top as they emerged, snagging his box back.
" Mine!"
both boys continued on, stopping in the middle of the roof to look back at him, eyes confused as they panted, overstressed lungs finally finding repreive. They stared at the elemental as he glared back at them shaking a finger once again.
" Mine."
It wasn't until after Damion had left that they spoke, looking at one another in confusion,
" Why'd he steal our cookies?"
The Elemental, to his credit, had resigned himself to finding the Spa and doing whatever it was one did at Spa's. The only issue was that he was properly lost now, the chase scene leaving him in the middle of Latent with no idea of where to go. Atleast he had the box, now safely cradled against his chest. Damion paused along the sidewalk he had chosen, looking up and down the street for amoment. He needed to find the train tracks specifically, but these city streets may as well have been a rubicks cube.
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