‘Fucking bullshit family’
I muttered as I felt the return of personal space for me. In a new room, this one quite bland with ordinary teal-painted walls, I gave it a smudgy kiss by throwing my boots at them.
And then the other one too. Cause fuck this house and fuck this family.
Honestly, I felt kinda relieved that I was going in a week. Plopping down on my bed as forcefully as I can, cause fuck the bed too, I felt happy that I wouldn’t have to deal with them anymore.
Ah yes, the sweet-sweet life of military calls me-
“Freaking as if!” I yelled, stopping myself from hurling fists at the wall, cause fuck the wall again, and decided to knead the pillow.
Like that, I proceeded to throw more things around and land a few softened punches at stuff before I finally felt out of breath and deflated.
“What’s the point of this mess,” I asked myself as I sat on the rocking chair I couldn’t break, “it’s just gotta be this way. I’ll just have to make the best out of this. As much as I can.”
Cause despite how much I despair over the unfairness of this world, I can no longer push my problems to others.
“Gods, at this point I almost wish there was someone out there coming to hurt me. At least I’ll die fun.” I wondered but shook my head immediately.
It is just my suicidal self talking. Despite the hopelessness of the situation, I still hold the hope to someday see my family.
Now lying on the bed, I couldn’t help but be overcome with a dramatic wave of nostalgia as memories bubbled inside me of the good and bad times. The days joking around in the house, going to movies, dinner, and so many days sleeping on the couch because we both had an ego.
I laughed and cried at those memories, my precious they were.
But around these existed memories of a new face. Precious and sad were those memories, calm yet treacherous like poison to my own.
And slowly I saw her face where my wife’s should be. Or was that what my wife looked like? Who was she? What did she look like!?
“I’m sorry Jul- no that wasn’t her name! Her name was Maya, yes, Maya…” but a seed of doubt had already taken its place in my head.
I felt disgusted. Disgusted at myself for forgetting the name and face of the one woman I vowed to always love. I felt just utter disgust and hate towards myself.
And before I knew it, tears were streaming down my cheeks and my nose running.
I must’ve laid there for hours, not moving, not willing to move. Only if the earth can open up and take me away, but… is that even my real thought anymore?
Only when I felt a slight prickle at my dangling arm that I forced myself out of my thoughts. Choosing to investigate the mysterious pain than wallow in things I can’t control.
Wiping my tears off with my sleeves, I looked at my other arm with puffy eyes which had a trickle of blood flowing.
‘How sharp. What even was it? Do we have pest problems here?’
But then I noticed, and against my disappointment of it not being a mysterious rodent partner, it was just a mere nail coming off the side of the bed.
‘Begs the question, do they wanna kill me with tetanus? Is this their special assassination bedroom? Do they even have tetanus in this world!?’ I wondered as I got off the bed and inspected it closely. Maybe even try to take it off before more of my limbs turn to rust!
‘Yea sure, very mature Conor.’
Squatting in front of it, I noticed something.
8.12
Written in a jagged but beautiful manner against the wooden plank, was this number.
‘8.12 huh… sounds cool. I wonder what’s it here for though.’ I murmured as I soon enough forgot about it and plucked the nail away.
Keeping the nail on the bedside table, I went into the bathroom, which was an almost replica of my own (except for the full body mirror, here they only had a half), I washed my hand, checked it against the mirror,
[Puncture wound: Non-urgent, Recovering]
Glowing in light blue and finally relieved it didn’t say anything about an infection, I vowed to check it once again after a few hours, left the bathroom, and settled on my bed again.
Now with some tears out and blood shed, it’s time to focus on what’s really important. Trying to learn some magic!
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
Till now I haven’t exactly been serious or dedicated in my approach to figuring out the intricacies of this new magic system and how to get a feel for the Source.
I have tried really hard in that department for two days but I don’t feel myself closer to achieving that within this week.
At least not by ordinary methods.
So it’s time I bring out the big guns and start doing it properly now.
That said, I walked back into the washroom and bought the mirror back. Setting it up against the wall in a way such that I could see The Source closely, I sat down in front of it.
The Source in a pure geometrical sense was impossible for me to memorise. Maybe forever.
‘Like, how do you even start to comprehend something like that? It’s moving all the time!’
Not to mention the impossible spacial tunnels it passed through, just its constant motion and impossible lighting was a headache.
‘Where even is that bloody almond these guys visualize!?’ I wondered as I searched through the shimmering piece of space through my growing headache.
Yet even after minutes passed, I failed to find it. Not my first try, but I wanted it to be the one.
‘Hahh, why is nothing easy here.’
And so for the next half an hour to an hour or so (I can’t be certain since the time feeling was lost in this room), I tried meditation; concentrating at the Source, I hoped to see any reaction; concentrating on my new direction sense; or just waving my hand over it; I eventually failed to produce a single reaction.
Defeated and tired, I sat on the floor staring at the mirror, hoping against hope to see something new.
‘Ugh, I’m tired of looking at myself.’ Saying so I stood up. How could women even stare at themselves for so long without getting tired? I felt like I’d start hating myself (even more) if I looked any longer.
“I want some fresh air.” I decided.
Going out, I shared my demands with the two guards standing outside (whom I had a sneaking doubt were the same ones as earlier, despite being unable to see their faces) and made sure to emphasize the point that I wanna go alone and not with 100 freaking men with me.
Very soon the Steward was at my door with a pair of common clothes, my tiara, some change cash (which honestly was not less), and the permission to go out. The clothes and tiara purely for mingling with the common folk.
I did feel a little disappointed they didn’t have some kind of extraordinary storage means like games, when he handed me just a normal pouch for the change.
Changed and ready to finally meet my city, I walked out of the back door and sneakily mingled with the main road through a few alleys.
The city Cipetel, the capital city of Servouz Viscountcy, was huge in a radial pattern. Like a huge pizza that has been cut a few too many times, it had 14 main roads all leading towards the central area where stood the cathedral of Guiding Hand, the God of Directions and Creativity.
The main roads were further divided by drawing perpendicular alleys for the houses, with every second such alley being wider for the vehicles, resulting in an amazingly complex architecture, one which has proven its splendour through the years.
The gravel roads, even after such division, were very wide and also had footpaths for people to walk upon and some to open small stores on. Although with the scarcity of motor vehicles in this era, a lot of men were on the roads.
I too walked among these men, acting like the times when I was but a humble painter. It was a fascinating experience, one which I’ve sorely missed in the last few days.
Did make me wonder how they so easily let me out this time? Why all that fanfare last time then? Was it just a power play by my brother to make sure I didn’t act stupid?
“Or… am I acting as some sort of bait to fish out spies!?” Now that was a dangerous thought.
And I instantly felt sure of my suspicions as I heard a scuffle break out just from the alley I’d emerged a few moments ago. From some ladies shrieking and men running away, that area was instantly cleared away.
And then another one from the road on the other side of the road which instantly quietened down, as I completely froze up and looked around me nervously.
The public was thrown into a minor turmoil and the atmosphere was filled with hushes and murmurs, all eyes at the alleys as they wondered what’s gonna happen.
But even after 5 minutes when no sound came again and no one emerged, some daring men finally volunteered to check. I was one of them.
And what I found was more terrifying than what I expected. It was just an empty street.
No one, no dead bodies, no blood.
Just a silent empty road with not a single soul in sight. At mid-day of a normal working day, we found a street with the only passengers being shadows of the buildings.
“What the hell could’ve happened here?” Someone asked, panic evident in his words.
“No idea, did anyone see what happened? Anyone passing through here?” Another man asked.
“I know what happened. I know it! It was the work of an Artist! A real living Artist!” a man proclaimed, his words shrill and thin as he flayed his hands over his head.
And instantly a wave of disbelief spread through the crowd as people looked at him skeptically, mostly which I believe was due to his clothes. A man in a sleeveless top and culottes can fail to inspire confidence in public.
“Why do you say it was an Artist? Did you see one?” Someone finally questioned.
“Yes of course I did. I saw a bunch of people walking normally, and all of a sudden a flash of light burst through, blinding everyone as well as me, and the next thing I knew, they were all gone! PooOf!” He said, his hands exaggerating the poof.
“That plinch speaks the truth! This old lady almost thought she died when that light hit.” an old lady with white hair and a cigarette between her fingers shouted from the balcony of a building just beside the road.
I did not miss her using of plinch, a slur for deviant men, to say it politely, but I chose to ignore it for now. As did everyone I guess, except the man referred to as he visibly soured.
“Could it be…?”
“No way…. It’s too dangerous here then.”
“Let’s go let’s go. Take the kids properly.”
And very soon people instantly filtered away from the road, and I not wanting to stay any longer, decided to follow along when someone asked the lady.
“How many people were there? Do you have any idea?”
“Ah of course I do, what is this old lady to do but look at people go all day. I believe it was about 8 to 12.”
‘8-12…. coincidence?’
“Bah, you old crook! What even is 8-12, can’t even give a better estimate.” The man shouted as he walked away too.
“What did you say? Talk to me when you reach my age and if you could still count you cunt!” The granny shouted. A little spirited.
She had gone off to say some more things, but I had already walked away.
’So I guess my life is in a little danger…. but I’m protected over the top too. So that’s a relief. That little shit really had to make a parade the last time!
‘But… what happened to the others? The normal people? It can’t be that all of them were after me, right?
‘Hahh, I just hope nothing happens to the common folk.’
Thinking so, I filtered the life-threatening news out of my head for now, and just focused on enjoying the walk.
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