The old man sat in the old, worn rocking chair. His weathered hands gripped the faded picture. A single tear slid down his cheek as he gazed at the smiling faces of his wife and sons. It often surprised him that he still had tears to spill for them, after all this time.
"I will find you . . ."
The words whispered in the darkness to him, a promise that he had longed to believe in. Although he could feel the hope fluttering within him whenever he heard the words, after all this time, he knew better. Not even Death could free him from his prison.
He felt the tears beginning to fall, and quickly moved the photograph. He had no idea what he would do once the photo was gone, damaged beyond repair by time and tears. It was his last link to his life; the last link to the outside world. By all rights he should have been dead, a rotted skeleton by his measure, the bones picked clean. But nothing could reach him here. He was truly alone.
He could still remember clearly the day that everything changed. The day that his life was literally ripped from him. There was a storm. There had been a car accident. And then the stranger. He was the first one on the scene. And he looked hungry. There was a lot of blood. He'd never forget the never-ending stream. Like a river.
He screamed while it was happening, pleading with it to stop, to take him instead. But the stranger just laughed. And when the man was the only one left alive, the stranger spoke.
"Although I hunger still, I will leave you here," he said, drifting closer. "But you cannot have this."
And the stranger ripped his heart out of his chest.
The pain eventually subsided enough for the man to get away from the wrecked vehicles. Luckily, he and his family had been heading home from their camp, which was only a few miles up the road. He managed to stumble his way back to camp where he passed out.
When he finally woke, after at least a few days of being asleep, he was surprised to find a shadow standing over him.
"I know you are here," the shadow said. "Though it is faint, I can feel your pulse. I will find you, and take you home."
"Wha . . . ?" the man asked, stumbling backwards out of the bed, away from the shadow as it reached a bleach white, bony hand towards him. "What are you? Are you Death?"
He never did find out exactly what the shadow was, for at that moment it looked up, then disappeared. It came back often, always whispering that it would find him, but it never did.
Between its visits, the man fell into despair. For although he did not eat, he was no longer hungry, and although he no longer drank, he did not thirst. His body continued living, no matter how he neglected it. And no matter how often the shadow came for him, it never managed
to find him. And so he sits, in the crumbling ruins of what was once his camp. Waiting for a Death that eludes him still.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Cheese Grater
I eat the souls of mortal men
So what, I’d do it all again
I’ve peered into the depths of Hell
But I came back to maim and kill
I steal from rich and give to poor
And I will canvass door to door
I play poker, but tend to fold
I try to win; that is my goal
So what, I’d do it all again
I’ve peered into the depths of Hell
But I came back to maim and kill
I steal from rich and give to poor
And I will canvass door to door
I play poker, but tend to fold
I try to win; that is my goal
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Alice's Wonderland - Alice
"He seems to be rather more alive than I'd requested." There was no anger in the voice, only a faint bemusement.
"Yes well, I found him in the brambles just outside - about 60 miles from where he jumped from a moving train; it hardly seemed a fitting end to the story my Queen."
Reginald had already opened his eyes to the room, suffering from an overabundance of I-just-jumped-from-a-moving-train headache and general weariness; bound to play havoc with the nerves really.
The cat was there, smiling. And so was Alice. And so were a whole host of other…things. Reginald supposed they might have more proper names but he hadn’t the foggiest what they might have been so ‘things’ did quite well enough in his own mind; the same sort he’d been seeing for the past few days.
“Reginald, dearest – you're here! I must admit, I believed you were simply not going to come.” Alice chimed pleasantly. Reginald was still feeling a little dazed but thought he could make out a voice quietly muttering ‘… or survive.’
“The cat…” Reginald pointed an accusatory finger at the offending feline as he rose to his feet. Looking, and feeling, somewhat the worse for his recent train ride. “… it tried to kill me?”
The cat grinned.
“A cat try to kill you? Madness!” Alice declared. The crowd howled with laughter. It was at this point that Reginald noticed the dress Alice was wearing, which hardly seemed real. It was a deep green silk crinoline affair with a cathedral train that must have trailed nearly ten feet behind her. She was also wearing a jewel encrusted silver crown.
“You tried to have me killed…” The words came only with difficulty.
“Yes, well you must expect a marriage to have its ups and downs. The important thing is you’re not dead. Leapt from a train I understand. Impressive.”
Once again Reginald found himself at a loss of words and instead opted to change subject. “Um… so yes. I um, came to ask you…”
Alice cocked her head in such a way as to wordless say ‘Oh, do go on.’ Really, he had never seen plain and sensible Alice looking so… really Reginald could not make up his mind whether crazy or beautiful was the more apt adjective. Scary might have been the word too – there was something deliberately about the way she walked and watched him that made him feel like a mouse about to be eaten.
The cat continued to grin.
“…what’s going on?” Well, there was more he would have liked to ask, and he probably could have phrased it better but that seemed like a good start. Really it was an important question.
“Ah, my dear Reginald, of course you would be perfectly innocent of ‘what is going on’.” Alice replied. “Where to begin, where to begin? Well I went mad – but you knew that already – and then I killed the Queen… ”
Reginald gasped.
“… no not that Queen. Well two Queens really…” Reginald was thoroughly confused now but Alice seemed to register this. “It’s complicated. Anyway, the important thing is, now I’m Queen of Wonderland." She looked at him with something that seemed like mock disapproval. "And I was looking forward to entertaining any number of charming, handsome young suitors but then you had to go and not die and, well, here we are.” She smiled pleasantly.
Reginald did not find himself any more enlightened. All he understood was that she had sent her cat to kill him and she was Queen of the crazy people.
Alice seemed to read his mind. “Isn’t this far more interesting than all your dull and dreary office work? You have no idea what sorts of things we can do here!”
“You tried to kill me!”
“And you lived! Jumped off a moving train in fact – far more exciting than some weekend with the Prescotts. And this,” She said giving a brief wave to the marbled hall and the admittedly pretty but ridiculously expensive dress she was wearing, “is far better than sitting around at home inventing work for the help.”
Reginald was open mouthed. “You’re… this is…”
“Mad?” Alice suggested, putting the word into his mouth – really it was the one he’d been searching for all along. “Listen Reginald, we’re through the rabbit hole here...”
“Alice, come back with me. Please.”
“No thank you Reginald, I like it here. And oh, I have plans for my kingdom! I see my writing led you here, that's good, that's very good. You can help you know.” Her tone grew darker. “Or you can insist on being your old stick in the mud self and you and my Cheshire Cat can go on another trip.”
And then Alice smiled the sweetest, most radiant smile Reginald had ever seen in his life. “Either way, soon everyone will have read ‘Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland’.”
"Yes well, I found him in the brambles just outside - about 60 miles from where he jumped from a moving train; it hardly seemed a fitting end to the story my Queen."
Reginald had already opened his eyes to the room, suffering from an overabundance of I-just-jumped-from-a-moving-train headache and general weariness; bound to play havoc with the nerves really.
The cat was there, smiling. And so was Alice. And so were a whole host of other…things. Reginald supposed they might have more proper names but he hadn’t the foggiest what they might have been so ‘things’ did quite well enough in his own mind; the same sort he’d been seeing for the past few days.
“Reginald, dearest – you're here! I must admit, I believed you were simply not going to come.” Alice chimed pleasantly. Reginald was still feeling a little dazed but thought he could make out a voice quietly muttering ‘… or survive.’
“The cat…” Reginald pointed an accusatory finger at the offending feline as he rose to his feet. Looking, and feeling, somewhat the worse for his recent train ride. “… it tried to kill me?”
The cat grinned.
“A cat try to kill you? Madness!” Alice declared. The crowd howled with laughter. It was at this point that Reginald noticed the dress Alice was wearing, which hardly seemed real. It was a deep green silk crinoline affair with a cathedral train that must have trailed nearly ten feet behind her. She was also wearing a jewel encrusted silver crown.
“You tried to have me killed…” The words came only with difficulty.
“Yes, well you must expect a marriage to have its ups and downs. The important thing is you’re not dead. Leapt from a train I understand. Impressive.”
Once again Reginald found himself at a loss of words and instead opted to change subject. “Um… so yes. I um, came to ask you…”
Alice cocked her head in such a way as to wordless say ‘Oh, do go on.’ Really, he had never seen plain and sensible Alice looking so… really Reginald could not make up his mind whether crazy or beautiful was the more apt adjective. Scary might have been the word too – there was something deliberately about the way she walked and watched him that made him feel like a mouse about to be eaten.
The cat continued to grin.
“…what’s going on?” Well, there was more he would have liked to ask, and he probably could have phrased it better but that seemed like a good start. Really it was an important question.
“Ah, my dear Reginald, of course you would be perfectly innocent of ‘what is going on’.” Alice replied. “Where to begin, where to begin? Well I went mad – but you knew that already – and then I killed the Queen… ”
Reginald gasped.
“… no not that Queen. Well two Queens really…” Reginald was thoroughly confused now but Alice seemed to register this. “It’s complicated. Anyway, the important thing is, now I’m Queen of Wonderland." She looked at him with something that seemed like mock disapproval. "And I was looking forward to entertaining any number of charming, handsome young suitors but then you had to go and not die and, well, here we are.” She smiled pleasantly.
Reginald did not find himself any more enlightened. All he understood was that she had sent her cat to kill him and she was Queen of the crazy people.
Alice seemed to read his mind. “Isn’t this far more interesting than all your dull and dreary office work? You have no idea what sorts of things we can do here!”
“You tried to kill me!”
“And you lived! Jumped off a moving train in fact – far more exciting than some weekend with the Prescotts. And this,” She said giving a brief wave to the marbled hall and the admittedly pretty but ridiculously expensive dress she was wearing, “is far better than sitting around at home inventing work for the help.”
Reginald was open mouthed. “You’re… this is…”
“Mad?” Alice suggested, putting the word into his mouth – really it was the one he’d been searching for all along. “Listen Reginald, we’re through the rabbit hole here...”
“Alice, come back with me. Please.”
“No thank you Reginald, I like it here. And oh, I have plans for my kingdom! I see my writing led you here, that's good, that's very good. You can help you know.” Her tone grew darker. “Or you can insist on being your old stick in the mud self and you and my Cheshire Cat can go on another trip.”
And then Alice smiled the sweetest, most radiant smile Reginald had ever seen in his life. “Either way, soon everyone will have read ‘Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland’.”
Monday, May 4, 2009
It's some sort of f***ing joke
Its night time here and it’s raining, but the garish neon signs stop it from being dark. Not that the light matters, its not the dark that hides me but the damnedable masses. No one can see the real leaves; the fake forest is in the way.
The isolation is almost bearable now. Not that I’m alone, far from it. Hardly a minute goes by that I’m not jostled this way and that by the press of bodies, the crush of their hollow gazes nearly killing me. No one thinks anymore. No one tries.
Ok, so not quite no one.
The stairwell leads up from the crowded alley to a barren concrete stairwell. Up I go, 45 stories in all. Winded by the end but not tired. The brave new world does do one thing for you. It keeps you trim. Hesitating the barest moment before opening the door to the roof I remember; fear is pointless, I’m already dead, and it is just a matter of time.
The change came not so long ago, “perfect immortality” they called it, branded it PI. Catchy ads, circles and slices, “get your piece of PI”. Fucking corporate bull, you could smell the stink of the boardroom on it. You could see the desk jockey chuckling himself to sleep with visions of his presentation profit share charts mirroring ad campaigns. It was sinfully indulgent and wholesome at the same time. The perfect god damn sales pitch. Not that they needed it. A drug that makes you ageless and nearly impervious to harm? A drunken shit slinging chimp could have sold the stuff, not nearly as fast though. The first few flawless years after its shamefully fast tracked release only a few of us still thought it was too good to be true. We were right, not that anyone gives a fuck anymore.
Setting up on the roof top with tri-pod, rifle and scope I scan the crowded street from the near total darkness, more exposed here because who among them would be on a roof, breaking the mould and doing something new. Muttering aloud I muse as to the nature of our perfect immortal world, “Side effects may include the loss of all initiative and will, glazed stares, the inability to form personal connection or change in any significant way. If you experience these symptoms this product may not be for you but it is too late. You. Are. Fucked.”
There are perhaps a few hundred of us left and dwindling. The Unchanged, Mortals, The Free. Each person among us finds a name for it, a way to come to grips that we are not part of the world anymore, or that we are all that is left. Each one of us paranoid as all hell and running scared. Something is killing us, it started killing once nearly everyone has changed and now the fear is in all of us that are left. Somewhere out there one of the few humans left with free will has decided the rest of us need to die.
So after scanning the street for a face I don’t recognise, a stranger or anomaly, I continue my patrol though the dozen square miles of city I’ve claimed as my own. Eventually assured nothing new is here today I head to my favourite diner like I do most days sit and wait for Harv to come by.
“Hello Mr. A what can I get for you today.”
It seems I’m feeling unusually bitter, rather them my usual miming of an order I ask him “Harv, you ever get the feeling we’ve done this before?” I’m not sure if his name is Harv, I’m not sure if I care, he responds the same as always.
“You want fries with that Mr. A?”
I feel the old anger rising up, useless but refreshing, “I want you to go to hell Harv so I can get a different order for once.”
“Sure thing Mr. A, extra gravy and a coleslaw, we don’t have Coke though, just Pepsi. Is that still ok?” he smiles and I know he doesn’t see me.
“I’m sleeping with your mom, your wife and your two daughters Harv, usually all at the same time.”
“That’s great Mr. A I’ll get that for ya toot sweet.” And he amicably ambles off to the kitchen like he does every morning leaving me alone again.
I shake my head, not for the first time. I have no idea who Mr. A is, or why he ordered steak with fries coleslaw and gravy at 5 in the morning often enough to engrain it in Harv but he never shows and it’s a shame to let it go to waste. Besides that I hate disappointing Harv, he does a mean steak.
As if a killer in our midst wasn’t enough every year a few more give in, take the drugs and just stop being. I ran into one a few years back pistol in hand and determination on his brow. Back when I scouted out of my home turf, I don’t do that anymore. It’s too fucking creepy. I spooked for a moment till I saw the look, the glaze in the eyes that isn’t seeing. I followed him on his route for a while, figured out how to hide in a different part of town if I had to. Then I put the poor bastard out of his misery. The changed are hard to hurt and harder to kill, but it’s not impossible, tossed him into a garbage truck compactor and it’s probably all over, I hope.
The morning after I torment Harv I find what I’ve been looking for. A man is sitting in my spot at the diner eating steak. Seamlessly I draw a knife, I have no idea how he heard me but he fell to the ground and rolled up, something I didn’t recognise in his hand. My first knife finds his arm and I see pain in his eyes, real new pain, not a distant memory of pain. I thought I had been scared before, I was wrong, I’m terrified now. The interloper went for something on his ankle and my second knife found his throat. He died before he hit the ground. The blood spreading out over the diners’ floor and his eyes glazing over in a familiar way. Harv will clean the floor soon, like he does every morning and I wonder for a brief moment just how bat shit insane I have gone. I wonder if this was Mr. A.
I should have asked his name.
So here I dance around the streets watching and hoping and fearing to see something new, someone that can change, someone that doesn’t fit the ritual dance of my fiefdom. Sleeping in a string of different empty beds by day and patrolling crowded streets relentlessly by night. I’m the only one here who can change and I’m too scared to do so. I’m sure there’s a joke in there. Whatever it is I’m not damn well laughing.
The isolation is almost bearable now. Not that I’m alone, far from it. Hardly a minute goes by that I’m not jostled this way and that by the press of bodies, the crush of their hollow gazes nearly killing me. No one thinks anymore. No one tries.
Ok, so not quite no one.
The stairwell leads up from the crowded alley to a barren concrete stairwell. Up I go, 45 stories in all. Winded by the end but not tired. The brave new world does do one thing for you. It keeps you trim. Hesitating the barest moment before opening the door to the roof I remember; fear is pointless, I’m already dead, and it is just a matter of time.
The change came not so long ago, “perfect immortality” they called it, branded it PI. Catchy ads, circles and slices, “get your piece of PI”. Fucking corporate bull, you could smell the stink of the boardroom on it. You could see the desk jockey chuckling himself to sleep with visions of his presentation profit share charts mirroring ad campaigns. It was sinfully indulgent and wholesome at the same time. The perfect god damn sales pitch. Not that they needed it. A drug that makes you ageless and nearly impervious to harm? A drunken shit slinging chimp could have sold the stuff, not nearly as fast though. The first few flawless years after its shamefully fast tracked release only a few of us still thought it was too good to be true. We were right, not that anyone gives a fuck anymore.
Setting up on the roof top with tri-pod, rifle and scope I scan the crowded street from the near total darkness, more exposed here because who among them would be on a roof, breaking the mould and doing something new. Muttering aloud I muse as to the nature of our perfect immortal world, “Side effects may include the loss of all initiative and will, glazed stares, the inability to form personal connection or change in any significant way. If you experience these symptoms this product may not be for you but it is too late. You. Are. Fucked.”
There are perhaps a few hundred of us left and dwindling. The Unchanged, Mortals, The Free. Each person among us finds a name for it, a way to come to grips that we are not part of the world anymore, or that we are all that is left. Each one of us paranoid as all hell and running scared. Something is killing us, it started killing once nearly everyone has changed and now the fear is in all of us that are left. Somewhere out there one of the few humans left with free will has decided the rest of us need to die.
So after scanning the street for a face I don’t recognise, a stranger or anomaly, I continue my patrol though the dozen square miles of city I’ve claimed as my own. Eventually assured nothing new is here today I head to my favourite diner like I do most days sit and wait for Harv to come by.
“Hello Mr. A what can I get for you today.”
It seems I’m feeling unusually bitter, rather them my usual miming of an order I ask him “Harv, you ever get the feeling we’ve done this before?” I’m not sure if his name is Harv, I’m not sure if I care, he responds the same as always.
“You want fries with that Mr. A?”
I feel the old anger rising up, useless but refreshing, “I want you to go to hell Harv so I can get a different order for once.”
“Sure thing Mr. A, extra gravy and a coleslaw, we don’t have Coke though, just Pepsi. Is that still ok?” he smiles and I know he doesn’t see me.
“I’m sleeping with your mom, your wife and your two daughters Harv, usually all at the same time.”
“That’s great Mr. A I’ll get that for ya toot sweet.” And he amicably ambles off to the kitchen like he does every morning leaving me alone again.
I shake my head, not for the first time. I have no idea who Mr. A is, or why he ordered steak with fries coleslaw and gravy at 5 in the morning often enough to engrain it in Harv but he never shows and it’s a shame to let it go to waste. Besides that I hate disappointing Harv, he does a mean steak.
As if a killer in our midst wasn’t enough every year a few more give in, take the drugs and just stop being. I ran into one a few years back pistol in hand and determination on his brow. Back when I scouted out of my home turf, I don’t do that anymore. It’s too fucking creepy. I spooked for a moment till I saw the look, the glaze in the eyes that isn’t seeing. I followed him on his route for a while, figured out how to hide in a different part of town if I had to. Then I put the poor bastard out of his misery. The changed are hard to hurt and harder to kill, but it’s not impossible, tossed him into a garbage truck compactor and it’s probably all over, I hope.
The morning after I torment Harv I find what I’ve been looking for. A man is sitting in my spot at the diner eating steak. Seamlessly I draw a knife, I have no idea how he heard me but he fell to the ground and rolled up, something I didn’t recognise in his hand. My first knife finds his arm and I see pain in his eyes, real new pain, not a distant memory of pain. I thought I had been scared before, I was wrong, I’m terrified now. The interloper went for something on his ankle and my second knife found his throat. He died before he hit the ground. The blood spreading out over the diners’ floor and his eyes glazing over in a familiar way. Harv will clean the floor soon, like he does every morning and I wonder for a brief moment just how bat shit insane I have gone. I wonder if this was Mr. A.
I should have asked his name.
So here I dance around the streets watching and hoping and fearing to see something new, someone that can change, someone that doesn’t fit the ritual dance of my fiefdom. Sleeping in a string of different empty beds by day and patrolling crowded streets relentlessly by night. I’m the only one here who can change and I’m too scared to do so. I’m sure there’s a joke in there. Whatever it is I’m not damn well laughing.
Monday, April 27, 2009
May Quote
"I've been alone a long, long time/
So what, I take what should be mine/
I've searched the sea of empty eyes/
And severed all my family ties/
A mercenary feeds my soul/
A plastic world, no getting old/
A monkey wears the age old crown/
The other monkeys getting down"
-Emigrate Emigrate
So what, I take what should be mine/
I've searched the sea of empty eyes/
And severed all my family ties/
A mercenary feeds my soul/
A plastic world, no getting old/
A monkey wears the age old crown/
The other monkeys getting down"
-Emigrate Emigrate
The Rabbit Hole
Once upon a time there was a girl named Alice. Alice had been stolen by an evil sorcerer when she was a very young child. The sorcerer had no children of his own and had always wanted a little girl. Alice simply had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and was snatched away to the sorcerer's tower.
For a time, Alice lived happily with the sorcerer. She was a good child, always listening, generally quiet. She seemed well suited to the sorcerer's tower. But all that changed the night Alice turned seven. For as she lay sleeping, dreaming the dreams of good little girls, it just so happened that her dream started to take shape within the room, coming alive. Alice was one of the rare dream weavers, one who had total mastery of dreams. She could enter dreams, and shape them to her desires, even bringing them with her into the waking world.
On the night that this first happened, the dream was innocent enough; Alice had been dreaming about a fluffy bunny she vaguely remembered from the time before the sorcerer. In her dream, she had been trying so hard to remember him that she accidentally took him with her into the waking world. Well, the sorcerer flew into a fury when he discovered the dream rabbit. He knew what the dream bunny meant. He had wanted an ordinary girl, not one who could very well be more powerful than he was! And so he ordered the construction of a great prison where he would keep Alice away from the world. He wanted to ensure that no one would be able to find her and teach her how to use her powers.
And so Alice was sent far away from everything she had ever known, with no explanation from the sorcerer. She spent the beginning of those dark days ashamed of herself. As far as she knew, she had done something so terrible that the sorcerer had sent her away. Yet she could not understand what that had been.
But as is often the case, a bit of light managed to pierce the darkness. Alice found, when she was really depressed, that she would often wake up and find company, often in the form of friendly little animals, but sometimes toys and other wonders. At first she thought that the sorcerer was sending her these things. But eventually she discovered that these wonders were often the very things she had been dreaming about! And so it became a sort of game, where she would consciously try to bring things out of her dreams, which she nicknamed the rabbit hole in honour of that first bunny that she brought out.
As time passed, Alice became very good at pulling things out of the rabbit hole. What had originally been a dreary cell became a colourful haven for the girl. She had toys, clothes and pets galore. And whenever something happened, a toy broke, a dress tore, or a pet disappeared, she could simply dream a new one to take its place! Sleep became a haven for the young girl, a place where anything was possible.
As Alice grew up, the sorcerer was busy building his empire. After banishing Alice, he had the fortune of finding one of the rare spell books of a long dead wizard. Using these spells, he was able to summon a monstrous horde with which he began conquering first his native country, and then the surrounding countryside. None could stand before his mighty horde.
By the time Alice turned eighteen, the sorcerer had long forgotten her. He had left her prison under the control of his aging manservant. The manservant eventually turned Alice's care over to his grandson, Tim, as the man's son was commander of the sorcerer's army. From the first moment he laid eyes on Alice, Tim fell in love with her. He did not see why so lovely a creature as Alice should be confined in a prison so far away from everything. And so he went to her, telling her he would free her if she would be his wife.
At first Alice was afraid, as this was the first person who had been nice to her in over a decade. But she longed to leave her prison and so she agreed. Tim released her and brought her back to civilization. Alice was shocked at the transformation of the land: all was blackened and burnt where before it had been green and alive. She was even more shocked to learn that it was the sorcerer who had scarred the land.
For the first time, as Alice lay asleep that night, her dreams were truly troubled. She knew that someone would have to speak to the sorcerer and get him to change his ways. Otherwise all that was good and green in the world would be lost. In her dream a woman spoke to her, telling her the way to the sorcerer's tower. To help Alice reach it, the woman gave Alice a magic carpet.
When Alice awoke, the carpet was there with her, hovering a few feet over the ground. To her delight, she realized that the carpet could fly! She found Tim and told him her plan. He tried desperately to talk her out of confronting her prisoner, the sorcerer, but Alice would not be swayed. And so Tim agreed to accompany her on her journey.
They flew over a desolate landscape, heading to the sorcerer's tower. After a harrowing journey, they made it, aided many times by Alice's rabbit hole. They fought their way to the sorcerer's throne room where Alice pleaded with him to stop. At first the sorcerer failed to recognize her, but he flew into another rage when he realized who she was, and who Tim was. He opened his great spell book and struck Tim down, dead, for failing to keep Alice imprisoned. To punish Alice, he warped her mind, changing the good dreams into terrifying nightmares. But failing to realize that Alice knew how to pull things out of the rabbit hole, he sent her to sleep.
For the first time, Alice was truly afraid. Her dreams had always been a sanctuary for her. But now she found all manner of monstrous things waiting for her. She battled her way through the dream, altering it so that she had protection as was her right as a dream weaver. She struck a bargain with one of the denizens, who would destroy the sorcerer in exchange for freedom from the rabbit hole.
The sorcerer was unprepared for when Alice awoke. For with her rose a gigantic centipede with the head of a child and limbs made of children's arms. The centipede tore the sorcerer to shreds and then escaped into freedom as was agreed.
While the kingdom rejoiced at the end of the tyrant's reign, there could be no such rejoicing for Alice. The man she had always thought of as her father lay dead at her feet, beside the man she loved. She had released an unknown evil into the world, one which only time would reveal whether it was lesser or greater than the sorcerer had been. And so Alice took her final journey into the rabbit hole. She fights the evil now in her dreams, with Tim at her side. But she knows that she can never return from the rabbit hole again, for who knows what other evil she might bring with her into the waking world.
For a time, Alice lived happily with the sorcerer. She was a good child, always listening, generally quiet. She seemed well suited to the sorcerer's tower. But all that changed the night Alice turned seven. For as she lay sleeping, dreaming the dreams of good little girls, it just so happened that her dream started to take shape within the room, coming alive. Alice was one of the rare dream weavers, one who had total mastery of dreams. She could enter dreams, and shape them to her desires, even bringing them with her into the waking world.
On the night that this first happened, the dream was innocent enough; Alice had been dreaming about a fluffy bunny she vaguely remembered from the time before the sorcerer. In her dream, she had been trying so hard to remember him that she accidentally took him with her into the waking world. Well, the sorcerer flew into a fury when he discovered the dream rabbit. He knew what the dream bunny meant. He had wanted an ordinary girl, not one who could very well be more powerful than he was! And so he ordered the construction of a great prison where he would keep Alice away from the world. He wanted to ensure that no one would be able to find her and teach her how to use her powers.
And so Alice was sent far away from everything she had ever known, with no explanation from the sorcerer. She spent the beginning of those dark days ashamed of herself. As far as she knew, she had done something so terrible that the sorcerer had sent her away. Yet she could not understand what that had been.
But as is often the case, a bit of light managed to pierce the darkness. Alice found, when she was really depressed, that she would often wake up and find company, often in the form of friendly little animals, but sometimes toys and other wonders. At first she thought that the sorcerer was sending her these things. But eventually she discovered that these wonders were often the very things she had been dreaming about! And so it became a sort of game, where she would consciously try to bring things out of her dreams, which she nicknamed the rabbit hole in honour of that first bunny that she brought out.
As time passed, Alice became very good at pulling things out of the rabbit hole. What had originally been a dreary cell became a colourful haven for the girl. She had toys, clothes and pets galore. And whenever something happened, a toy broke, a dress tore, or a pet disappeared, she could simply dream a new one to take its place! Sleep became a haven for the young girl, a place where anything was possible.
As Alice grew up, the sorcerer was busy building his empire. After banishing Alice, he had the fortune of finding one of the rare spell books of a long dead wizard. Using these spells, he was able to summon a monstrous horde with which he began conquering first his native country, and then the surrounding countryside. None could stand before his mighty horde.
By the time Alice turned eighteen, the sorcerer had long forgotten her. He had left her prison under the control of his aging manservant. The manservant eventually turned Alice's care over to his grandson, Tim, as the man's son was commander of the sorcerer's army. From the first moment he laid eyes on Alice, Tim fell in love with her. He did not see why so lovely a creature as Alice should be confined in a prison so far away from everything. And so he went to her, telling her he would free her if she would be his wife.
At first Alice was afraid, as this was the first person who had been nice to her in over a decade. But she longed to leave her prison and so she agreed. Tim released her and brought her back to civilization. Alice was shocked at the transformation of the land: all was blackened and burnt where before it had been green and alive. She was even more shocked to learn that it was the sorcerer who had scarred the land.
For the first time, as Alice lay asleep that night, her dreams were truly troubled. She knew that someone would have to speak to the sorcerer and get him to change his ways. Otherwise all that was good and green in the world would be lost. In her dream a woman spoke to her, telling her the way to the sorcerer's tower. To help Alice reach it, the woman gave Alice a magic carpet.
When Alice awoke, the carpet was there with her, hovering a few feet over the ground. To her delight, she realized that the carpet could fly! She found Tim and told him her plan. He tried desperately to talk her out of confronting her prisoner, the sorcerer, but Alice would not be swayed. And so Tim agreed to accompany her on her journey.
They flew over a desolate landscape, heading to the sorcerer's tower. After a harrowing journey, they made it, aided many times by Alice's rabbit hole. They fought their way to the sorcerer's throne room where Alice pleaded with him to stop. At first the sorcerer failed to recognize her, but he flew into another rage when he realized who she was, and who Tim was. He opened his great spell book and struck Tim down, dead, for failing to keep Alice imprisoned. To punish Alice, he warped her mind, changing the good dreams into terrifying nightmares. But failing to realize that Alice knew how to pull things out of the rabbit hole, he sent her to sleep.
For the first time, Alice was truly afraid. Her dreams had always been a sanctuary for her. But now she found all manner of monstrous things waiting for her. She battled her way through the dream, altering it so that she had protection as was her right as a dream weaver. She struck a bargain with one of the denizens, who would destroy the sorcerer in exchange for freedom from the rabbit hole.
The sorcerer was unprepared for when Alice awoke. For with her rose a gigantic centipede with the head of a child and limbs made of children's arms. The centipede tore the sorcerer to shreds and then escaped into freedom as was agreed.
While the kingdom rejoiced at the end of the tyrant's reign, there could be no such rejoicing for Alice. The man she had always thought of as her father lay dead at her feet, beside the man she loved. She had released an unknown evil into the world, one which only time would reveal whether it was lesser or greater than the sorcerer had been. And so Alice took her final journey into the rabbit hole. She fights the evil now in her dreams, with Tim at her side. But she knows that she can never return from the rabbit hole again, for who knows what other evil she might bring with her into the waking world.
The thing about Jack
Jack stared into the small spitting flames of the campfire, poking it with a long stick. The woman Jack called Mom was adding spices to a small pot hanging over the flames. The man Jack called father was playing some soft melodies on his flute.
He could hear the other children of the caravan playing in the night. The laughter from the other families drifting over from their fires.
"Jack" the woman says, concern in her voice, "why don't you go play? Gwen has been calling for you."
The man puts down his flute and smiles. "Why, if I didn't know better, I might say she fancies you boy" he says, trying to get some response out of Jack. But Jack doesn't move or speak. Jack just stares into the fire, eyes lowered. The man and women look at each other and go back to their tasks, hoping Jack will tell them whats wrong when he's ready.
A small part of Jack's mind feels guilt over shutting out his family. A small part feels awkward about Gwen, not willing to admit that Jack likes her too. But that small part is ignored, overwhelmed by the darkness that is enveloping Jack's mind.
The thoughts in his mind are not his own. They started out on his 13th birthday. Mere whispers on the wind to faint to understand. Now, they fill his mind, threatening to consume his. Their words are alien to Jack, incomprehensible. It's all Jack can do to keep his sens of self separate from the darkness. But what scares Jack more then anything, is the strange desire to let go. To surrender himself to the voices.
Lost in his own mind Jack did not hear the first scream. Only faintly did he register the man and woman jump to their feet. It was only with the screams that followed, with the man running off and the woman pulling Jack to his feet did he come out of his world and into this one.
Blinking, it took Jack a few seconds to understand that the woman was trying to usher him into the small covered wagon that was their home. Before they could move more then a few feet the women shuddered, her eyes going wide as the tip of a sword, glittering red came through her chest. Jack watched her fall to her knees. He listened to her final words "run" as she collapsed forward. Behind her a soldier. Armor dull and muddied, eyes grim and focused.
The man had killed the woman had called Jack had called mother for 13 years. The man had killed his mother. Jack's eyes came back into focus. He finally took in what his eyes and ears had been telling him. All around there were soldiers from the nearby town, slaughtering his friends and family. All around, the people he grew up with were dying.
Jack stood there, stiff as a statue as the soldier pulled his blade out of Jack's mother's corpse. Frozen, tears running down his cheeks, Jack could do nothing as the soldier took a step closer and raised his sword to strike. At the last moment someone to the soldiers left yelled. He looked up, and just managed to block a blow from his father's flute. Although taken by surprise, the soldier smoothly countered, gutting his father like a fish. His trance broken, Jack ran.
Jack ran from the death and screams. He ran until he couldn't breathe. Until he couldn't hear anything but the sound of his heart pumping in his ears. He ran until he collapsed and lay there, curled up on the ground, weeping. His mother, his father, everyone was dead. He was all alone.
Jack lay there as the night darkened, as the air cooled. Lost in his sorrow, Jack didn't hear the whisper at first. Blinking, he look up. The night was dark. Darker then it should be. He could see the moon above the trees but it might as well not have existed.
And he heard it again. A whisper like the voices in his head, but this time he understood it. It was his name. Jack shook his head, but he heard it again. The whisper, and not in his mind, but all around him.
"Jack. We've felt your call Jack. We've felt your pain. We're here Jack, we've always been here. Accept us Jack."
Jack blinked, his tears drying. He could feel the presence in his mind growing, pacing, waiting. He could feel a desire, a hunger. He could feel the concern within the darkness. Concern, for him.
"Who are you?" Jack whispered. "What are you?"
"We are your mother and father, your sons and daughters, brothers and sisters. We are you Jack. We've been kept away for so long Jack. Lost and alone, but no more. No more Jack. Accept us Jack, and we will be yours forever. Accept us and together, we will punish though who have hurt us."
Jack closed his eyes tight. His mother and father, gone. He felt the deep pit of sadness in him. He felt the gaping hole in his heart where his family was, and he asked the darkness to fill it.
He could hear the other children of the caravan playing in the night. The laughter from the other families drifting over from their fires.
"Jack" the woman says, concern in her voice, "why don't you go play? Gwen has been calling for you."
The man puts down his flute and smiles. "Why, if I didn't know better, I might say she fancies you boy" he says, trying to get some response out of Jack. But Jack doesn't move or speak. Jack just stares into the fire, eyes lowered. The man and women look at each other and go back to their tasks, hoping Jack will tell them whats wrong when he's ready.
A small part of Jack's mind feels guilt over shutting out his family. A small part feels awkward about Gwen, not willing to admit that Jack likes her too. But that small part is ignored, overwhelmed by the darkness that is enveloping Jack's mind.
The thoughts in his mind are not his own. They started out on his 13th birthday. Mere whispers on the wind to faint to understand. Now, they fill his mind, threatening to consume his. Their words are alien to Jack, incomprehensible. It's all Jack can do to keep his sens of self separate from the darkness. But what scares Jack more then anything, is the strange desire to let go. To surrender himself to the voices.
Lost in his own mind Jack did not hear the first scream. Only faintly did he register the man and woman jump to their feet. It was only with the screams that followed, with the man running off and the woman pulling Jack to his feet did he come out of his world and into this one.
Blinking, it took Jack a few seconds to understand that the woman was trying to usher him into the small covered wagon that was their home. Before they could move more then a few feet the women shuddered, her eyes going wide as the tip of a sword, glittering red came through her chest. Jack watched her fall to her knees. He listened to her final words "run" as she collapsed forward. Behind her a soldier. Armor dull and muddied, eyes grim and focused.
The man had killed the woman had called Jack had called mother for 13 years. The man had killed his mother. Jack's eyes came back into focus. He finally took in what his eyes and ears had been telling him. All around there were soldiers from the nearby town, slaughtering his friends and family. All around, the people he grew up with were dying.
Jack stood there, stiff as a statue as the soldier pulled his blade out of Jack's mother's corpse. Frozen, tears running down his cheeks, Jack could do nothing as the soldier took a step closer and raised his sword to strike. At the last moment someone to the soldiers left yelled. He looked up, and just managed to block a blow from his father's flute. Although taken by surprise, the soldier smoothly countered, gutting his father like a fish. His trance broken, Jack ran.
Jack ran from the death and screams. He ran until he couldn't breathe. Until he couldn't hear anything but the sound of his heart pumping in his ears. He ran until he collapsed and lay there, curled up on the ground, weeping. His mother, his father, everyone was dead. He was all alone.
Jack lay there as the night darkened, as the air cooled. Lost in his sorrow, Jack didn't hear the whisper at first. Blinking, he look up. The night was dark. Darker then it should be. He could see the moon above the trees but it might as well not have existed.
And he heard it again. A whisper like the voices in his head, but this time he understood it. It was his name. Jack shook his head, but he heard it again. The whisper, and not in his mind, but all around him.
"Jack. We've felt your call Jack. We've felt your pain. We're here Jack, we've always been here. Accept us Jack."
Jack blinked, his tears drying. He could feel the presence in his mind growing, pacing, waiting. He could feel a desire, a hunger. He could feel the concern within the darkness. Concern, for him.
"Who are you?" Jack whispered. "What are you?"
"We are your mother and father, your sons and daughters, brothers and sisters. We are you Jack. We've been kept away for so long Jack. Lost and alone, but no more. No more Jack. Accept us Jack, and we will be yours forever. Accept us and together, we will punish though who have hurt us."
Jack closed his eyes tight. His mother and father, gone. He felt the deep pit of sadness in him. He felt the gaping hole in his heart where his family was, and he asked the darkness to fill it.
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