Previously, the Sphere contained fragmented datum, nexus and a part of the Cycle’s memory that would become a passage for the worthy. Lay in the medium, called Ocosh--the ones Core’s tools making. Exceptional device that can give birth to the idea of pre-creations.
After various gruesome structures and mechanical efforts, the being finally has enough anchor in its own being. So before the longest period, there’s spark and echo in the enclosed sphere; then, with certainty and chance, its--
“B.E.G.I.N.” was the vibration of sound--not so loud, but consistent with the reality’s own resonance. It had been a classic echo from the ageless era, the true ‘first’ before number one had become an idea, before creation could grasp any meanings, even definitions and structures as yet couldn’t be fixed into beings.
After several negations later, the sphere ends up as a singular consciousness. The formless cognition floating in the massive shapeless space. On the surface, the being begins shaping the ‘consequence’ into random-calculated form. Already, the design obliged and started with the whirl of times, writhing into mass that was never seen before, all happened by its own clause.
There’s no fingers or digits that could reach the early developing consciousness now. The performance of the process while being called, always tried to reach the novel height. Often affected by horizon, often than not, it reaches the absolute, till the Cycle last.
That all was merely a premature step. Always waiting, expecting, hoping. The source's ultimate play was to create a sign, so that whomever it chose, had accepted its will. Until all that’s left was a pillar and a tunnel. Until that moment came, in the presence of all matters, a dimensional graph took place, and so too did the eyes of it.
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A humming sound could be heard from the edge of Grandpa’s garden. The song it carries was in tune with the chirping birds. He didn’t know if that was some coincidence or if his father was just some
Perhaps he desires that. His father as
“Greg! Don’t you have something to do? Or is your duty done already?” Asked Greg’s mother, as she passed through the kitchen into the dining room. Perhaps after taking a glimpse of Greg just standing still.
Startled, he rushed into the source of the voice.
“Coming mom! Please don’t scream like that, you’ll make dad’s birds scared and fly away!”
And he hears his mother laughing. Confused, Greg started asking from the corridor.
“What’s so funny, mom?”
His mom laughed even louder after Greg showed up. Greg’s puzzled face becomes more intense.
Still not understanding, Greg just shrugged and helped hold her hand.
After a while, his mother takes a breath, and switches back into her usual persona.
“Thank you dear, was your school fun today?” she asked while tidying up the table.
Greg remained still for a sec, not expecting the unusual question. Usually his mother never asks him about school, at all. Somehow it makes Greg feel nervous, because if she ask some unrelated topic to him, mostly she wants to discuss some personal aspect. And if that happened, his mother would ...wait. why it felt strange, as if his mother had becom--
“Greg?”
“Wha- no- ah yes, i mean yes, of course it's fun mom. Thanks for asking. Do you need more mop, mom?” while eyeing her mop suspiciously.
“I think that ancient mop you use needs more cleaning. I will take the new one then, yes, that’s wise. Right away, capt’n. Aye, roger!” Oooooohh, ye mighty land and crown of the sea! Greg tried to leave the room while singing his made up pirate songs and tried to be as casual as possible, and then something in his mother's demeanor changed. She started looking Greg in the eyes and said something that doesn’t make sense at all.
“B.E.G.I.N.”
Greg skin started to crawl.
Greg’s first thought was: that’s not her.
Wait, why am I here again? What is...?
And Greg’s internal struggle halted. Watching absolutely ‘not his’ mothers eyes. ‘was the eyes changing or my eyes that turning blind? Why, why there’s so many stars and...is that darkness or...no, void, why her eyes become so...’ Greg tried to put a reason to all of what he saw.
Stammered, Greg finally realized, ah so this is a dream huh? Despite this conclusion, his mind still does not fully comprehend what is that thing in his ‘not’ mother’s eyes.
As the horror start coming closer to Greg, his composure break, instinct taking controls out of him. Because Greg felt not just dread, but the feeling lead Greg’s to believe as if...as if he is facing something that even his mind can’t put into words, the fear felt so primal that he lost his sense, and his body started sprinting on its own, leaving his mind in the growing void from the eyes.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
THUMP THUMP... THUMP THUMP... THUMP THUMP... THUMP THUMP
Chest felt like exploding, Greg’s thought of how violent and chaos his heart beat was. Because how absurd the dreams was, because—
CLAK!
Greg woke up after one of his wooden cups fell, it had nothing to do with how drench his tunic is, despite the chill weather.
After some struggle to find water to drink, Greg’s breathing became more stable.
“What in the Tower’s Hells is that dream was. Why does my head feels so dizzy, ugh.”
Finally letting out a groan while covering his eyes, Greg remembered something very critical, and after his mind got a little clear he started to jolt up from the chair.
“Did…did I transform into the Called? Wha…Is…is my Path awakened?” With his mind cleared, Greg rushed into the bathroom and in an instant, stood, fully naked in front of the mirror. Crossed checking the whole left side of his body. From head to toe. Hoping to find some ‘mark’ or ‘rune’ or anything.
His excessive effort is finally rewarded. There was a mark on his left cheek, right on his cheek bone. The mark looks like three dots in triangle shape that connect each other like some constellation, but the connecting lines look random.
Doesn’t matter. In Greg’s mind, this mark perhaps would be his gloriou-
“...Greg?...Oh. Huh. So, this is the day huh...” Jack stood in front of the bathroom door, watching Greg with a blank look.
In the middle of an excited rush, seeing Jack, Greg's eyes lit up and squealed like a pig. Because Greg thought that was Jack’s declaration as his ‘congratulations’,
"Yes!" Greg tried to hug Jack with a glint of madness in his eyes.
With some expertise, Jack is already out of the radius of the incoming spell. “Yup. Of all the Godmother’s days, why must it be today...” Exhaled, Jack murmured to himself. Not looking into the treacherous Greg.
Greg looks at Jack, as if it’s Jack the crazy one. “What are you sayin--“ he was puzzled. Then Greg felt the flow of winds freely caressing between his thighs.
Aware of his current ‘fashion’ Greg spun back to the bathroom, but before he moved, Fate seemed to have other plans for him, because his other friends chose to show up.
“What took you so long, Jaaac....” Lyla said, stretching her question because her mind ended up blank.
In front of her, there were two men, the former was a gentleman and the latter was a …butt man, Jack the gentleman looked so resigned with his Fate that he just stood grim faced. And the butt man is Greg. Trying to cover up his…which made Lyla grateful, a little bit.
Recreating the likely scenarios, Lyla finds the answers. Of course it's always Greg mischief. With a quick thinking, she chose to play the role of a nice friend rather than the polite one.
“So, finally your mind snapped today huh. Condolence, Jack.” Lyla glanced at Jack and not in the direction of Greg, afraid to see his current ‘fashion’ style while at the same time tried her best to conceal her embarrassment which would’ve created a very awkward situation. Godmother’s mercy, why its so hard to suppress the urge to shriek.
“Thanks, Lyla. Lets guide our friend --I mean former friends remain into his Grandfather. May the Godmother heels find his face.” Jack said gloomily.
“Let's find the cart in Old Bill place then.” Lyla follows suit.
“No! I, I mean, oh. Never mind.” Grumbled Greg back to the bathroom.
‘Pfft’ and ‘tud’, was the first sound Greg heard from the bathroom.
Meanwhile, Jack and Lyla just looked at each other for a half beat, she was already on the floor clutching her belly. And then both guffawed like a silly old donkey.
Stinky donkey, Greg’s thought with spite.
Greg just didn’t want to admit this as his other ‘err’. Besides, Greg already lost his face before, to both of them, and that moment was more awful back then.
After putting on clothes, Greg left the bathroom and didn’t expect his friend's current condition. They are all still laughing, of course, but their faces become so unusually blooming red that’s make Greg alarmed.
And then their eyes become the same as ‘not his’ mother from the dream earlier. Greg’s gut started plummeting, because now he realized that this is another lucid dream. Panic, and frustrated, Greg started screaming, it took another notch as both ‘not’ Jack and ‘not’ Lyla stood and HANGED upside down while watching his eyes.
Feeling cornered, Greg latched onto his fresh ‘mark’, hoping to find some power or anything that could help him. Until--
BANG! BANG!
...apparently, Greg fall asleep while he--
BANG! BANG!
“Greg, Greg, what happened? Why screaming?! Hey, damn it, open the door. Greg!” Jack tried to break the door, which was successful. Fortunately Greg became fully awake.
“Whoa, hey! Jack! I’m okay, I’m okay, buddy. Please, don’t break the door.” With a hoarse voice and still gasping, Greg opened the door, but watching Jack’s worried face, Greg’s heart calmed a little bit.
Until he remembered, that is.
Flash of the ‘not’ Jack in his dreams overlaps with Jack in front of him now. His heart starts beating again, but Greg suppresses the urge to cower.
'It's Jack. It’s really Jack.’ Greg began chanting. But still uncertain, Greg Asked.
“Uh, are you the real Jack, uh, Jack?”
Puzzled, Jack opened his mouth but then stopped.
Jack's eyes became round, but before Greg panicked, he realized that rather than watching Greg’s eyes, Jack was actually looking into his forehead.
“Greg. What in the named Hell is tha... '' Jack murmured but slowly backed away and pointed his hand in the direction of Greg’s forehead.
With a sigh Greg prepared. ‘So it seems his dream---his lucid dream still not done. After that thought, Jack moved and gripped his shoulders.
“Why with that desperate look? Hah! You should’ve rejoiced! You finally awakened! Finally have your mark. Dream comes true! Please, wipe that ‘accept death’ expression from your face man. It's creepy.” Jack dead panned
Greg focused on what Jack said. Then he was forced to watch his friend's face. Jack's smile was so goofy and ...proud? Yeah, proud. But why?
“Wha- Jack, what do you mean?”
“What I mean is,” Jack spun Greg’s body so he faced the mirror. “That!” And he pointed to his ‘mark’. Greg has other new ‘mark’ in his left side of his forehead.
Greg was so stunned he outright passed out.