It will bring out the worst in all of us...

This is a portion of a story that I never finished (and intend never to finish at the moment).

***

“Hey, how're you doin'?”

Jack Carmackle yawned out loudly and then stared at the person who was knocking on his door. It was six in the morning, and it was also Sunday, and normally you didn't go round knocking on other peoples' door at six AM on Sunday.

“Tell me, Carmack, what the fuck do you think you are doing? Can't you see how early it is?” Jack replied angrily to his best friend, Carmack Greggins.

This was very odd. Carmack wasn't known for waking up on Sunday mornings.

And then Jack realised that something was wrong. There was a dazed look on Carmack's face, as though he was starting to go mad from seeing things.

“Carmack, what's wrong?” Jack said, now wide awake.

His friend looked at him and a small, faint smile crept across his face. His voice was quite and soft.

“Sorry to tell you this mate, but we only got five minutes to live.”

******** ********

Of all things in the twenty-first century, war is the most interesting and cruel things of all of them.

One can tell this because when war has arisen, not even a healthy conscience can stop the death of innocent lives that could of most certainly have been avoided.

In the twenty-first century, technology has become more cruel than helpful. You could always tell this because of big nations like The Alliance and such are always researching new ways to kill people. This seems to be the case, as now a seemingly neutral country has just been attacked by none other than the Great Country of Freedom itself.

As most of you could guess, a neutral country has just had a Nuclear Warhead launched on it by The Alliance, because their Great Leader deemed it fit to eliminate all 'uncertain factors' in this war.

Jack Carmackle has just been informed of his impending doom, and now with that, let the story continue...

******** ********

“What! That's impossible! How can that be!?” Jack shouted as suddenly there was a loud roar outside. He pushed his friend out of the way and saw the thick stream of oily black smoke across the sky. The rocket emitting the smoke was streaking across the sky with blazing speeds.

“Jack, I just wanna tell you one thing. You know, it was always Cindy that I liked. It wasn't Mary,” Carmack said in confession.

“Yeah, well, it was always Mary for me. Never was Cindy,” Jack said.

His death was coming, and he knew it. Jack couldn't avoid it.

The sky lit up as the warhead exploded off in the far distance. A mushroom cloud rose into the air, but because of its distance, it was rather small. He could feel the ground trembling underneath and the glasses in his kitchen falling and shattering.

“Always knew it, should've just given it to her, that ring,” Carmack said.

Jack didn't even reply. The whooshing sound of the shock wave was already approaching.

His doom was certain, and it was coming because they were an 'uncertainty'.

******** ********

Crea was one of the only children to feel the full effect of the war. She was born as a defective child, having being affected by the Chemical- and Viral-Weapons that had been used against the world. She was shorter than most other girls her age, which was understandable. She had fresh blue eyes, and long jet-black hair. Her face was rounded, showing her gentle nature.

Though innocent as she may look, one must not forget about the hidden details. Crea was destined to go through something that many more able-bodied people would consider quite literally impossible.

Forever shall we remember the lives of the soldiers that gave their lives to bring the world to peace once more.

******** ********

Crea stood at the door to the children's home, her left arm in a cast and sling. She didn't want to enter, for fear of what Miss Harkin would say.

She had just been dropped off from the hospital for the third time in two weeks. The first she cut herself, and it wouldn't stop bleeding, the second she fell and hit her head, and now she had just broken her arm.

The door opened anyway, and there stood Mistress Harkin, her high cheekbones only adding to her firm look.

“Crea, why do you do this to yourself?” Miss Harkin enquired in a stern tone.

“S – s – sor – sorry, miss,” Crea stuttered.

That was another thing that was always seemed wrong with Crea alongside her frail body. She always seemed to stutter. She couldn't explain it no more than she could explain the way Mistress Harkin scolded everyone for doing seemingly innocent things.

“Well, inside you get. We mustn't dawdle out in the snow for too long, or we might just catch a cold. Come on, inside!” she said, again firmly.

“Y – y – yes, m – miss.”

Inside was her office, which also just happened to also be the front entrance. Mistress Harkin had always thought it a good idea to mix the two. It was her ‘Front Office’.

She went back to her room. It was occupied by nothing but herself and her belongings. None of the other girls in the children’s home really liked her. Crea didn’t know why exactly but had a suspicion that it had something to do with the fact that she was the only one who could stand outside without getting sunburnt.

It was one of those things. The area that the children’s home was in had been hit by a nuclear missile a few years back, affecting the weather. And because of that, it always snowed. It snowed in that area all year round, no matter what. Another thing was that if you stood out in the sun too long, you would get sunburnt, for some unusual reason.

She turned around and opened the cupboard. It was empty except for three of the shelves. The first had all of her tops, the other had all of her dresses and pants and the last was for her underwear.

She reached into the third shelf with her right hand and felt around for a moment. When she brought it out she held a single empty bullet casing attached to a piece of string that acted like a necklace.

The door opened and Crea threw the necklace back into the cupboard hurriedly and closed the door. She looked to see one of the older girls standing there.

“Poor old Crea broke her arm again,” the girl said in a mocking tone.

“L – l – le – leave m – me alone,” Crea said, trying her best not to stutter.

“P – p – poor little C – Crea, stuttering like that. You should go to the circus, you freak,” said another girl, who had also just walked in.

“I – I – I d – don’t want you t – two in here,” Crea said, “T – this is m – m - my r – room.”

The two burst out laughing. They were one of the many who got kicks out of teasing her. If only they realised what they were doing. There was only one place where she could get solitude, and that was outside. Most of the other girls were too scared to go outside, as the last one that had stayed out for more that eight hours started to form blisters on her face. She still had the scars where her skin had started to boil.

Crea made a run for it; she tried to push past the two, but they caught her roughly, not caring about her arm.

“Whoa, you’re not getting away from us. You just sit nice and tightly,” one of them said. Crea was dragged and forced down onto her small bed. She somehow managed to bite back the scream from her arm busy doing something it shouldn’t.

“We must punish you for being a bad girl,” the first one said, an evil grin spreading across her face. She sat down next to Crea.

“Yes, you’ve been a bad girl,” the other said. She had chosen to stand.

Crea looked around desperately in search for anything that could help her escape. She didn’t want to scream. Her voice wouldn’t handle it and she wouldn’t be able to talk for at least two weeks.

She saw the window. It was half-open, and knowing the windows in this house, it would break easily.

“So, what should we do first?” the girl who was standing enquired.

“P – p – please l – leave me al – lone,” Crea said, trying her best not to let tears show. Her arm was starting to go numb from pain.

“P – p – please shut up,” said the one sitting, mocking her stuttering again.

Crea had no choice. She made a run for it again, this time, charging at the window. She somehow managed to wrench her arm free from the girl and plummeted through the window. She screamed as it sliced her face and body.

“What are you doing, you bitch?” the one shouted. Crea didn’t care. She had escaped from them. She sat on the ground, her blood staining the snow bright red. Her right eye was closed; the eyelid had also been cut.

She slumped and fell, now lying in the blood-stained snow, busy whimpering quietly from the pain.

“W – why d – do you have to d – do th – th – that?” she said, this time her stuttering mainly the effect of her whimpering.

******** ********

“Well, if it weren’t for your condition, then you would’ve been fine within two weeks, and not even a scar to show.”

Crea sat on the bed inside of the hospital. She looked blankly out of the window at the slowly falling snow. Her arm was in a new sling and practically her whole body was covered in bandages. There was one long one across her face, as one of the shards of glass had sliced right across it; from the top right corner to the bottom left.

“But unfortunately, we must understand that you will always have scars to show. No amount of Bio-Therapy will heal those scars,” the doctor said again.

“I u – understand,” Crea said solemnly. She looked at the doctor. “W – w – will I e – ever b – be a – able to l – live normally?” she questioned.

“I’m sure one day that you’ll find somewhere where you can live you days happily,” he said with a kind smile.

After that Crea was picked up by Miss Harkin and taken back to the Children’s home. It was a small and peaceful place that was only occupied by girls. There were hardly any boys left for a while. During the war, all boys had to go and fight. And even some girls. Any able people from the age of sometimes even thirteen were sent to fight. It was a twisted fact. Twisted and true; the war had destroyed almost all of the world’s resources. The only thing keeping everything from collapsing was the martial law used to keep everyone in check.

“Well, I talked to those two. They won’t do it again,” Miss Harkin said as she drove her eyes firmly on the road.

“It’s n – not g – going to work,” Crea said sullenly, “They’ll c – come b – b – back. T – They’ll c – come back a – and t – teach me a – a les – lesson,” Crea said.

“What makes you say that?” Miss Harkin said, her voice touched with an edge of curiosity.

Crea decided to remain silent. It was torture enough that she had to talk like this. She didn’t like talking, it was humiliating.

Eventually they arrived back at the Children’s home. The two walked back into the front-office in silence.

“I’ll talk to the other girls. Just go back to your room, and lock your door,” Miss Harkin said. Crea obliged without question. She returned to her room, if not hastily, and locked her door with the key Miss Harkin had given her. She went and lay tenderly on her bed. She then started to cry into her pillow.

“W – w – why?” she cried, “W – why m – me? I d – didn’t a – ask for this.”

She cried herself to sleep.

******** ********

There was an incessant knocking at the door. Crea tried to ignore it, but it just wouldn’t stop.

“Wh – who is i – it?” Crea inquired after some time. There was no reply, only this time whoever it was tried at the door handle. Crea got up slowly from her bed, and looked through the keyhole of the door. She had a hard time seeing who it was, but it definitely wasn’t any of the other girls, or Miss Harkin. It was someone wearing a fashionable black suit.

Crea didn’t know what to do. She knew that they didn’t mean any good, but then again, what was she suppose to do? Whimper her way out of the situation? She looked around the room, panicking. She went to her cupboard, and retrieved her necklace just as the intruders started to try and ram the door open. The doors, like the windows, would break easily. She didn’t have much time.

She grabbed a warm jersey, a pair of shoes, and some warm pants and threw them out the broken window.

She made her way to the window, and pushed it open. Carefully, she climbed out, trying to avoid the broken glass. Once outside, she put on her shoes as quickly as she could, and pulled on the jersey. She had decided that there was no time to pull on her trousers. She simply grabbed them, and ran.

She hadn’t been running for long before she couldn’t do so anymore. She fell down to her knees, completely exhausted. She crawled up next to a dead tree, sat down, and leaned against it. She took this opportunity to pull on her pants. Her legs were starting to go numb from the cold.

She closed her eyes, trying to calm herself down. Her weak heart was beating as fast as it could go. Why her? Was there any reason that they wanted her? She was a nobody; an inferior being in the world, barely able to pull her own body weight.

She heard the soft snow crunching underneath someone’s feet. Her eyes snapped open to see one of the older girls walking up to her. It was one of the regular bullies. Immediately Crea’s face became scornful.

“Wh – what do y – you want?” she said, in a tone to match her face. The bully’s face was fearful, as though she had been running away from something.

“You have to get out of here. The military are after you, Crea. A few of us snuck out, and are hiding somewhere. Come with me, I’ll take you there,” she said in a hurried manner.

“I d – don’t bel – believe y – you,” Crea said in suspicion.

“Please, you have to come! You have to believe me!” the other cried out, looking over her shoulder.

“Y – you – co – this could b – be some s – sick joke, li – like a – always.”

“Goddammit, Crea. If you don’t come, I’ll have to beat the shit out of you until you do!” she said, her face taking a serious and threatening turn. “I’ll carry you if I have to!”

Crea immediately fell into a submissive state of mind. You sudden resolve was now replaced with the old fear of the bullies.

Then, she realised something: It was all psychological. Her mind had been so battered and beaten, that she would automatically respond to threats. She cursed herself silently as she slowly stood up.

“I – I’ll come, th – then…”

******** ********

“This is a war. The Machine Key is what will end it. Without this key, many more lives will be lost.”

“Is that any reason to dispatch a full military unit to a children’s home? A god damn orphanage! You hear me?” the aged man said angrily. They were all in a board room. Business men all sat, a young and prospective man standing at the front.

“I took the necessary precautions. We can’t afford the Key from escaping.” Arthur said. He was dressed in cream business suit, with a black tie. His well oiled hair was brushed to one side professionally.

“Just because you’re the goddamn Secretary of Defence doesn’t mean you can send that kind of force against children. Hasn’t this war taken enough from them?”

That's where it ends. Sorry, folks =P

Where Demons Walk

Long time no post, blah blah blah. I could spew an endless list of excuses, but I'm more than certain you've all heard it before, so I'm not going to.

This here piece was for a competition on a site. I had to do a piece in 1000 words or less.
The prompt was: "We all have regrets. Suppose you were given a chance to go back and change one thing about your life. Maybe it was something you did that you regret. Maybe it's something you didn't do that you regret. Would it change your life and /or the lives of others? If so, how?"

And here's my entry below:

“I’m not interested in what you have to say!” Loria paused, listening to the demon hidden behind her mind. “I’ve said it time and time again, Bealzelea, I act freely of you, and I want to act now.”

Loria was a Devil-Child, a person who had been infused with the power of a demon. It had its perks, and at the same time, its shortfalls. She had deathly pale skin, with hair to match. Her eyes were a blood red, only being made scarier by the perfectly black pupils. She wore a pair of dark green cargo pants and a tight-fitting black T-shirt. Both arms had been ripped off in an especially gruesome encounter, and had since been replaced with metallic counter-parts. Her left arm joined just after the elbow, her right just below her shoulder.

“Is he still bothering you?” a quiet voice said in front of her. Loria felt sorry for her; Hachi was a blind insomniac, having being robbed by someone of her magical potential during birth. Her blue eyes had long glazed over, her blond hair tied into a loose ponytail.

“No, he doesn’t bother me. I call the shots, remember?” Loria said, giving a bored sigh. She didn’t even know why she came anymore to Hachi’s house. She had long given up hope on trying to establish a connection with other people. The Demon Pages had long ago burned out that part of her identity. Almost sixty-eight years and she still hasn’t given a damn about other people. She has felt nothing. She cared more about animals than people.

It was her curse for wielding such power, the inability to care for others, while all the time demanding it.

Loria saw Hachi shift uneasily in her seat. “You don’t have to come here anymore, if you want. I won’t mind, I’ve been alone for so long I’m used to it,” Hachi said, picking up the teacups and taking them to the sink. She sat back down again.

“Hachi, please. I’ll stay,” she said, trying to sound sincere; it was a lie, and she knew it. She was here under sufferance.

The two sat in an awkward silence. Loria concentrated on the ticking of the clock to keep the voice of the demon from getting to her.

“I think I should leave. Bealzelea is getting agitated,” she said after a while. “I’ll come back next week. I really do enjoy your tea.”

“Thanks…” Hachi said, moving to the door and opening it. Loria walked out, taking a look at her wristwatch. It read 16:47. Plenty of time to get home. At least she didn’t have to worry about Hachi now that she was outside.

“I…” a dark whisper began. “…am tired of your consistent whining.”

Loria fell to her knees, giving violent wretches of pain as the demon ripped through her skin in trails of black smoke. Her shirt was torn to shreds. The black void of smoke looked at her with two empty white eyes.

“What are you doing?!” she yelled at the shadow demon

“Something I should have done a long time ago. You continue to whine and moan, and yet do nothing about it. Take action? Laughable. I will be taking the action from now on.”

“And what do you expect to do? You were kicked out by your own brethren because of your ‘actions’!”

The demon said nothing, and Loria felt her mind grow younger. Her body didn’t age; she was immortal because of Bealzelea. For a brief moment she blacked out from the world spinning by. When she awoke she was lying on a large bed of grass in a vast field.

“You say it first,” a boy said.

“No, you say it first,” she found herself replying playfully. She was sixteen once again, sixty-eight years in the past. She knew exactly what was going to happen.

“Ladies first,” the boy responded. Loria smiled at Joshua. He was her boyfriend, and while they were very much in love, neither had the guts to admit it.

“Let’s take a walk,” Loria said, jumping up and grabbing his hand. “I have a few things on my…mind.”

“’Kay, let it out,” he said playfully.

“I’m scared,” she began, “I’m scared of saying it. I might lose you…”

“And how would that happen?” he inquired, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m not normal…”

“Your choice of music established that a while ago. I don’t care.”

“It’s more than that…You know magic?” Joshua nodded. “It’s real; in more ways than one.”

“Stop joking.”

“I’m not. I have a demon inside of me… And…and there’s these people wanting to kill me. I’m scared of hurting you like that, when I die…”

“I’ll protect you. Let them come, I’ll kick their asses into fifty shades of blue,” he said confidently.

“That won’t happen, my boy,” a slick voice said. A man dressed in a grey trench-coat grabbed him and pointed a handgun at Loria. “Both are you are sentenced to death. You for working with the vile demon, and you for being one.”

“No!” Loria shouted, jumping out of the way as he fired. She scrambled around, looking for the Demon Pages; she could still remember from when it happened the last time: she had stumbled across the book. Inside was unimaginable power, at the cost of a portion of her identity. This scene had played out so clumsily before; this time she knew what to do.

She dug into the deep grass and pulled the faded hard-cover from the depths. She pulled open to the first page, before aiming her finger at the demon-hunter.

“Loria!” Josh yelled.

“Joshua, I’m sorry…I – I love you,” she said. It was the three words she had been wanting to, yet unable to, say for so many years.

She fell to her knees, back again in her own time. The demon seeped back into her bleeding wounds, the last strand of smoke licking by her ear.

“Good girl…” Bealzelea whispered.

“Fuck you, too,” she replied almost joyfully.

Ocean's Child

I Liiiiiii~ve!

Ok, yet again, long time since I updated. So here's a story for you to read. It's meant to be self-contained, but I have my doubts if it really is...

A few notes on this: The characters and concept of the island I thought up of in a dream I had one night (one of those dreams you don't want to wake up from ;D ). No, I don't mean that in a questionable way...

Anyways, I call this one "Ocean's Child"
Please read, and comment:

It was nearing the end of Jayden’s turn to steer the boat. All four of them only knew a portion of the journey each, as to make sure no one could get to the island but them. It was almost sacred to him, June and Desi. Their father, Aleksey, was never too keen on going there. But somehow, he was the one insisting on going instead of Desi.

“It is my turn now, my son,” a strong voice said. Jayden turned to his dad, a proud man of Russian origins.

“Yeah, I’m about to fall asleep,” Jayden said, relinquishing the wheel. He could best be described as ordinary. Jayden has steely blue eyes and light brown hair that he preferred to keep short.

“Get your rest. You will need it, my son,” Aleksey said. Despite his origins, there was only the slightest hint of it in his accent.

Jayden went down into the underbelly of the boat. In there were basic living quarters. It reminded him of a caravan.

“Hey, Jayden,” June said. She was his twin sister. She had the same eyes and colour hair as him, but preferred to keep hers in a loose ponytail. She wore a thick, white jacket and pants. June had always been more sensitive to the cold than the rest of them. She was sitting before a small altar of a glowing hammer.

“Finished your prayers?” Jayden asked.

“Yup. You better get to studying those runes. Dad won’t be impressed if you don’t pass,” June said, nodding. She was a devote paladin, and follower of the Holy Light. It always felt odd, considering the modern ages they were living in. He nodded to her, and moved on.

“Hey, Desi,” he said, noticing the wiry figure staring intently at a piece of parchment with crude runes on it. She looked back up, nodded, and returned to studying.

Desi was the adopted sister. Found by Aleksey floating in the middle of the ocean, or so Jayden had been told. She had black hair, which while normally shoulder length, had been gelled upwards into a slightly forward leaning spike. She wore black clothing, almost like a goth. Her left arm was adorned with bangles and bracelets, her right with leather and studs. Cables from an iPod trailed from her ears into a small bag, music loudly playing from them.

Jayden sighed and opened a book. Inside were runes, not dissimilar to the ones Desi were studying, but rather of a much more refined state. He turned to a blank page in the book, and slowly drew complex diagrams and symbols. He had to memorise all of it to use his magic. Desi had it easy.

He closed the book wearily. He was simply too tired to study. He rolled over and went to sleep.

******** ********

After landing, June helped her dad moor the boat to the old wooden dock. She climbed out and followed Aleksey to a clearing. Something was odd; usually he didn’t like coming to this island.

Desi walked past her, music loudly blaring out her headphones. June hated that music; Rock she believed it was called? It sounded like heathen music. Jayden followed Desi in disembarking.

“Now that everyone’s here, I believe we should check our house I still here,” Aleksey joked. He took their bags, and moved to the primitive stone cottage. There wasn’t much; a basic kitchen with fire stove, and a room they all slept in.

“Dunno why, but I always get a feeling of nostalgia every time I come here,” Jayden remarked, stretching his arms above his head.

“That’s maybe because you’ve been here at least eighteen times before?” June said pointedly, punching her twin brother’s arm in a playful manner.

Aleksey cleared his throat. He looked at the three, nodding at Desi to turn her music down. He was wringing his hands. June felt a cold feeling in her stomach start to grow.

“My children, I have brought you here to tell you something.” The three were suddenly paying keen attention. “This will be the last time I will be coming here with you. The doctors say I am ill, and have a few months left to live.”

June swayed on the spot, suddenly feeling numb. Her head turned slowly, to look at Jayden. His eyes were starting to glaze over as her stared at their father. Desi had pulled her headphones out.

“You – y – you’re joking – right?” Jayden said weakly. June prayed her brother was right.

Aleksey shook his head sadly.

“I am afraid not,” he said, looking at each one slowly. “All my life, I have been dodging death. It has finally caught up to me in the most final way possible.”

“Death can be so cruel…” June whispered to herself.

“I can agree with you on that, my daughter,” Aleksey said, sighing. “But I think this is one of the kinder ways.”

“Kinder? How?” June said, almost yelling. “You’re dying, dad!”

“Kind, because it has given me warning. I at least have a chance to spend time with my children,” he said, smiling in an almost peaceful way. June didn’t feel that way.

“I don’t – I won’t believe it!” she said, shaking her head.

“Dad…” Jayden said, wiping his eyes.

“We still have time. Please, do not dwell on it.”

June ran up to him, and hugged him as tightly as she could. Jayden followed suite, while Desi stared out of the window.

******** ********

Desi was aware that her father could hear her music. She always played it as loud as possible; yet somehow her hearing has never been affected. In face, she could hear better than most. Well, maybe not Jayden; his hearing was unmatched.

She finished listening to the current song before turning it soft, and pulling out one earbud. Aleksey looked at her, not really knowing what to say. Desi had always been so quiet, and alone.

Maybe this is what she wanted?

Aleksey nodded at Desi, and he slowly moved to the door of her room. She touched his shoulder lightly.

“Stay,” she said, almost a whisper. He listened, leaning his back against the wall, almost mirroring his daughter.

Aleksey wasn’t sure what to do. In the past, the only things he ever did together with Desi was fishing and eating dinner; but that was with the whole family. Here, they were alone.

Desi could sense her father’s uneasiness. She turned to him, smiled and nodded to him. She knew it would help him relax; help him accept this is what she wanted: A quiet moment.

******** ********

June and her dad sat kneeled before the altar of a glowing hammer. Silently, they prayed. Eventually, June opened her eyes and the both spoke in unison:

“May the Holy Light protect us, and all we live for.”

“Now that’s done, I challenge you to five lengths!” Aleksey said, going to his bedroom and changing. June sat in front of the altar. A small part of her wished she wasn’t doing this. For doing it meant time was passing.

She changed into her swimming costume and went to the pool. She found her father waiting for her in the pool. June dived in from the other side and emerged near Aleksey.

“Come, I’ll race you,” he said, preparing to do a few lengths. June stopped him.

“Dad, please. You should be resting. You don’t have to do this for us,” June said, holding onto his shoulder.

“June, my lovely daughter, you don’t understand. I would rather live for a month, spending time with you, that to live for a year doing nothing,” he said, gripping her shoulder. “Now, how about those five lengths?”

June almost cried. Not with sadness, but with happiness at such a great father.

“You’re on!”

******** ********

“Nice shot, dad! You even managed to leave the grass behind!” Jayden said, patting Aleksey on the back. Jayden couldn’t lie to himself, his dad was terrible at golf, but he appreciated the time he was making for it.

“I am still new at this, my son,” Aleksey laughed, swinging the club a few times in practice. It was Jayden’s turn for him to spend time with; time which was slowly slipping away.

“You have to keep looking at the ball. Even once you’ve hit it, keep your eyes on the ball. As soon as you start looking for where it’s going to go, the ball will go skew,” Jayden said, guiding his father’s hands and putting him through the motions of the swing.

They carried on, appreciating the day. It was only later when Aleksey suddenly cringed in pain.

“Dad? Are you alright?” Jayden said, supporting Aleksey.

“Yes, I’m fine, just my muscles. Don’t worry, Jayden,” he said, knowing that soon, he wouldn’t be fine. For the sake of Jayden, Aleksey lied.

“Be careful, dad,” Jayden said.

“Me? Careful? Naturally!” he replied, back to his haughty self. “Now, I need to work on my slice…”

******** ********

Four months had passed since Aleksey broke the news to his children. Now, he lay on his deathbed. Desi stood at the end of her father’s bed, a thousand thoughts running through her mind each seconds.

Jayden stood next to her, and next to Jayden stood June. All three looked at the frail frame of a once proud and strong man.

“All my life I have been dodging death,” Aleksey said weakly, “It was about time it finally caught up.”

“Please, don’t say that, dad,” June said. She was visibly distressed; her hair was untidy and tears filled her eyes.

“I am just thankful that death gave me some warning,” the man said, managing a weak smile. Desi simply looked at him, not saying anything. “Come close, my children. Let me see you each one last time,” he said, motioning for them to move closer. June and Jayden took one side of the bed, Desi the other.

“Dad, we’ll never leave your side,” Jayden said. He seemed less emotional that June, but deep inside he was being torn apart. Their father was a proud man, a mighty warrior, and now he lay dying of a terminal illness.

“My children…My beautiful children. Never could have I asked for a more perfect family…” he said, smiling at them.

“I love you, dad,” June said, starting to weep. She gripped his hand tightly.

“June, never give up. Never judge, and never go in life holding hate in you…”

“Dad…” Jayden said, closing his eyes in an attempt to stifle the tears.

“Jayden, my only son. Live your dreams, and don’t be afraid to go with your heart.”

Aleksey turned to Desi. She stood, motionless, gripping her iPod tightly, the headphones in her other hand.

“And Desi, my dear child. Don’t be afraid to live your life, don’t be scared to set yourself…” he groaned, gripping at his abdomen.

“Dad!” Both June and Jayden said in unison.

“D – Desi… Don’t be afraid to set you – yourself – f – free…” he trailed off. Nurses hurried into the room as the heart monitor went dead. All three were rushed out of the room.

All three were feeling numb. All three stared at the door, mind blank. All three feared the worst.

After fifteen agonising minutes, one of the nurses came out with a sad look on her face. Jayden comforted June as she wept into his chest, tears streaming down his cheeks. Desi stood motionless, not hearing the nurse’s report.

He was dead.

Eventually June managed to compose herself, and turned to Desi. She was infuriated at her blank face.

“How could you?” she said angrily. Desi turned to her. “Dad is dead! And what do you do? Nothing!” June yelled. Jayden tried to stop her, but was cut off with a cold look.

Desi look at her, and blinked. Slowly, the thoughts slowed, thinning down. A thousand replies slowly whittled down to one.

“You have no idea, do you?” she finally said. “You think this doesn’t hurt me? You think I don’t feel loss?”

“Well, you’re sure as hell doing a good job at it!” June yelled.

“You don’t get it,” Desi said, her eyes starting to water, her mouth worked a thousand emotions that she has never expressed before; unable to express. “What do I have left? He was my only family. And now, nothing.” Jayden cringed.

“All my life, I’ve wanted to say it. And now it’s too late,” Desi continued, now visibly shaken. June took a step back. “I would give up everything, June. I would give up my fucking music; I would give up my arm bands and studs. Fuck, I’d give up my hair, just to see him alive for one more fucking day!” Desi suddenly yelled. “I would fucking DIE, just so I could see him!”

“I – I…” June started, but was cut off.

“I owe everything to him! I owe my very fucking life! Don’t you understand? I would give up everything I have ever lived for, just to see him again; just to having the fucking chance to thank him!” she screamed. Heads turned towards them in the corridor. Desi clenched her fists at her sides, and then continued in a more steady voice. “I have nothing left. I have no family left. My only family just died. All I ever wanted to do was thank him. I wanted to thank my father of giving me a chance at life. I wanted to thank my father for his unconditional love. I would give up everything just to thank him one last time, June.”

The twins stared at Desi, eyes wide with shock. That was probably the most Desi had ever said in her entire life.

“Desi, we -,” Jayden began, but Desi cut him off.

“I’m gone.” She left, not saying another word.

******** ********

June paid the taxi driver his fee, and walked with her brother towards the gravestones. She stopped almost immediately when she saw Desi already there by their father’s gravestone. She was leaning against a tree, a large bottle of water in one hand, her iPod in the other. Her headphones weren’t in her ears, but around her neck. June could hear her heathen music playing loudly out of it.

“Desi!” Jayden shouted, and he ran to greet her. Almost expectedly, she didn’t look up, but instead stared at the gravestone. “Desi…?” Jayden said, slowing to a stop.

“Desi, please,” June said. The other girl looked up at her. Desi’s eyes were sullen, and had dark rings underneath. “We’re all hurt by losing him. Don’t hide this inside of you, please,” June pleaded.

“Desi, listen to June. We’re your family; nothing is ever going to change that,” Jayden croaked. His eyes were starting to water.

Desi pulled her headphone’s cords and wrapped it around the MP3 player. She threw it onto the grave. She did the same with her bangles and studs.

“Desi, what are you…?” June began, but trailed off as she opened the bottle and poured half if it onto her belongings. She then washed her hair with the other half, getting rid of all the gel.

“What do you care?” she said, after pushing her hair back. June thought she actually looked nice this way; the thought repulsed her somehow. “I’ve already told you, I have no family left. I’m giving up everything. I have given it all in the false hope I’ll see dad again,” Desi said in a flat tone.

“Desi, please,” Jayden begged. “We’re your family!”

Desi leaned back against the tree, staring at the headstone. Jayden moved to her, and suddenly hugged her.

“It’s okay, Desi. We won’t leave you,” Jayden said. Desi’s eyes widened in the suddenness of it, and she too, slowly embraced him back. “I’m your brother, Desi.”

“And I’m your sister. Nothing will change that,” June said, swallowing her pride.

“I just can’t believe he’s gone…” Desi sobbed. June moved over, and joined Jayden in hugging her. “He was everything to me. I don’t want to accept he’s gone.” She was now full on crying.

“We, too, Desi. We also don’t want to accept it. But together, we can move on,” June said. The three separated. Desi looked at June with tear-filled eyes, before breaking down again and embracing her.

“Thank you, June. Thank you…”

“No, Desi. Thank you.”

The sun was now low in the sky. They had spent four hours at their father’s grave. June stood up slowly, helping Desi to her feet. Desi swayed slightly from fatigue.

“It’s time we go home,” June said. “Go on without me, I want a few moments with dad.”

The other two left, towards the taxi waiting for them. June looked at the grave, and Desi’s wet belongings on it. Making sure that no one saw, she put them in her bag, and followed the other two. It was only fair; Desi had given up her identity, it was time June gave up her pride.

"Eventually, my dear friend, we will end this pain..."

No update in forever. So I've decided to do a random brain fart.

"Wha - What is this madness...?" King Greffins said, staggering backwards from the figure standing in front of him. He wore a white cape, with black trousers and white shirt and white gloves.. His skin was blacker than any night he had seen, a featureless mask with holes for eyes covering his face.

“I have come to usurp your control, good king,” the man said in a strong, familiar voice.

“Who are you? Guards! Take this madman away!” Greffins yelled.

Heavily armour knights marched towards the man, reaching out to grab at his shoulders. He pointed his hand at them leisurely and they each froze where they stood. He snapped his fingers, the sound of bones crunching and armour clashing against the floor, as blood leaked through their armour.

“Wha – What are you? A Demon?” the king said, hiding behind his throne.

“Wrong. I am more than that.” Again, that voice. It sounded so familiar.

“Where are the mages? The priests?!” the king yelled desperately. He backed away as the masked figure slowly walked towards him. He trailed his finger alone the edge of the throne, almost tasting it.

“They will not save you. They cannot,” he said casually. Greffins eyes strayed past the man’s left hand, noticing a signet on his ring finger. It held the Royal Seal. Only two people were given that ring.

“You can’t be my brother. My brother died twenty years ago! What did you do to him?” the kind demanded.

“No, I am not Jerethin. However, I was him. He didn’t die, you know? Rather, he decided to fight. He was not happy that you left him lying there, bleeding to death,” the man said, circling the throne.

“There was nothing I could do! I was swept away with the other soldiers! There was a war to fight!” Greffins shouted, trying to deny the truth.

“He was found, moments away from death. And now, he is gone.”

“What did you do to him, you monster!”

“He has become me. He has evolved far beyond what any of you could ever fathom,” he said, turning to the king again. Greffins was stumbling along the wall, bumping into a suit of armour.

There was the loud shouts of several men coming closer. Greffins gave a sigh of relief as the mages and High priests ran into the room.

“Kill this man! He threatens the kingdom!” he yelled.

“Not today,” the man said, holding his hand up towards the newcomers, a semi-visible blue barrier forming between them. None of their spells penetrated it, all being absorbed into the barrier soundlessly.

The king fumbled around behind him, picking up the sword from the suit. He readied it and charge as a last ditched attempt, while the masked man was distracted. The sword sank deep into his chest, coming out the back. The masked man look at the king, and for the first time in that encounter, he was paralysed with fear as the raw evil permeated from the stare he received.

“Naïve mortals,” the man said, snapping the blade and pulling it out with one hand. “You think you have a chance. There was no chance. I am from a realm so far beyond your own, you cannot even imagine it.” He grabbed the king’s head with his left hand. “Countless worlds have fallen before me, consumed by my eternal hunger. They, too, thought they had a chance. My power is unfathomable. Not even gods are capable of stopping me.”

He paused, looking around at the mages and priests, frozen behind the barrier. He looked up at the people flocking into the advisors’ seats about the throne room to see what was happening. He took a seemingly deep breath, and then spoke:

“ I am the eater of worlds. I am Devian.”

A Tribute

Long time no post. I've been Internet-lessness for a week.

I've been working on a story involving a recent character I made up. So far, here's part one. I'll be posting part two at a later date.

“Open the doors! Please, for the love of the gods, open the doors!”

The soldier walked up to the stable doors wearily. War was upon the land, and any stranger seeking refuge could be a trap by the enemy. Even so, he doubted that they would use women in the dead of night for such things.

“Who are you, and what do you seek?” he called out over the rain and thunder.

“My name is Amelius, and I seek refuge for the night! Please, I beg of you, I’ve been traveling for hours!”

“Fine, I’ll let you in, but I will have to put you under custody!”

“I don’t care, let me in!” the woman called out.

He unbolted the door and slowly opened it. He held out his torch to see the woman’s face in the night. She was soaked down to the bone, and shivering violently. Her black hair extended about four inches past her shoulders, and she had a bandaged eyepatch over her left eye. “Inside, hurry,” he said in a low voice, closing the door behind her.

“Thank you…” the woman said breathlessly. She looked hardly older than seventeen or eighteen. Her shirt’s right sleeve was torn off, and her arm was bound up in bandages, and held up in a sling.

“Look, ma’am, I need to take you to the prison block. I’m sorry, but it’s regulations,” the soldier said, throwing a blanket over her shoulders. She grabbed it with her good hand and tried to tighten it around her. He helped tuck it in a bit.

“I don’t care… I need to speak to your king tomorrow…” she said. The soldier led her off, and placed her in a single cell, letting her keep the blanket.

***** *****

Lord And Master King Terfinus sat on his throne, looking over the battle plans for the upcoming war. And messenger walked with his head bowed and whispered into his ear.

“Very well, bring her forward,” he grunted, motioning servants to take the table away. A soldier brought up a young woman, probably not older than eighteen before him. Two soldiers held chains strapped to her ankles.

“A refugee, sire.”

“What is your name, child?” he asked, rubbing the grizzled stubble on his chin.

“I am Amelius D. Rodgers,” she responded, keeping eye contact with the king.

“An alien name. You are not from around here,” the king remarked mockingly. Amelius bit down on her lip to prevent the vile comment from slipping.

“Yes, it is. I need to ask something of you,” she said, trying to keep the cynical tone out of her voice.

“And what is that, peasant?”

Amy closed her eyes and held her trembling fists closed.

“I ask if I may use your royal library. I seek a cure for my family, and I have heard that the library of your castle holds more knowledge than the world combined twice-over,” she asked, adding a hint of pleading to her tone. She was half-right. She sought a cure, but she had no family to cure.

“Hmm…So, you are some outsider, coming and eating our military rations, then demand that you use our services even further?” the man said, leaning forward in his throne. “No.”

“But my lord, please –!” she began but was cruelly interrupted.

“That is final! Now throw her out before I decide to feed her to the torverines. Bring me the Tactical Map!” he yelled, dismissing Amy with a shooing hand, servants bringing the table back in front of him.

The two soldiers grabbed her by the arms and dragged her from the castle.

***** *****

“I…I’m so hungry…” “For what?” “I – I don’t know…” “Are you sure?” “Yes. Yes, I think…so…” “What drives you?” “Hunger…and -,” “And what? What else drives you?” “…fear…” “What scares you so much?” ”Myself…I – I don’t want it to happen…” “Do I scare you? Are you afraid of me?” “I – I don’t know…” “Please, you can tell me. There’s nothing to be afraid of.” “You…I’m so hungry…” “In time we can feed.” “It hurts! I can’t take it anymore…” “I know, I know. We’ll be there soon.” “Can’t you feel the tears! I – I’m crying?” “You’ve cried before. When you lost your friend. When the fear in his eyes changed -,” “Stop it! I don’t want to remember that!” “Hahahahaha!” “Who are you?” “You should know by now.” “I – I’m going mad…Please let it end…” “We’re almost there, my sweet.” “It hu~rts…”