Mellotron centric Progressive Rock

Multicolored flames filled Amber’s vision. She automatically dropped to the floor and started rolling around. The light quickly dissipated, and she realized two things. Firstly: there was no pain, which meant that she had either suffered no burns or very bad ones. Secondly: she was lying on a floor, instead of dirt or grass. It wasn’t the ground, it was now gaudy, brightly colored tiles. She quickly inspected her arms for evidence of fire but found none.

She jumped up and scanned the room while looking down the sights of her shotgun. The young woman immediately assumed that she had been attacked from behind by some fire wielding enemy. It had happened when Mal had touched her shoulder, perhaps her new friend had not been so friendly after all. She completed her sweep, scanning the room through lifeless gasmask lens and saw no one. What had attacked her and how had she managed to end up there?

It was a kitchen, the kind of kitchen that you would find in a house. As she continued to look around, she started to notice that things seemed to be off somehow.

As her eyes adjusted to the relative darkness, she figured out what was wrong. This kitchen was straight out of the 1970s! The cupboards and drawers were painted in an extremely loud shade of neon yellow. The toaster was covered in decals of brightly colored flowers and looked like it would be more likely to burn your house down rather than cook your food. The fridge was weirdly rounded, and bizarrely, painted pink. Everything just looked like it was from that particular decade. But all of it looked, more or less, brand new, like it had been bought just a few weeks ago.

Amber wanted to flip on the lights and take a closer look, make sure that she wasn’t seeing things. But she didn’t want to give her position away. Instead, she stayed in place and listened.

As she waited there in the darkness her mind started wandering. How had she ended up in an old house? There were homes scattered around the area, and many of them were rather old. But how had this one managed to escape the wear and tear of the decades? Was this even real? Had she been badly injured, lying in a hospital bed in a coma or high on pain meds? That would certainly explain the wizard and the horde of monsters that she had killed. Then the kitchen’s light was suddenly flicked on and she heard the words, “There you are!”

The girl in the gasmask had been taken by surprise, but her reflexes were quick, she swung around to point her weapon at the threat. The person who had flipped on the lights and called out her position was plainly visible as they stood there in the doorway.

It was a demon, a red skinned lady demon. The shear surprise of it kept Amber from firing, she could only stand there and stare at the thing, desperately trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

The monster had a modest set of horns, totally white eyes, and long, jet-black hair, cut in the classic Betty Page style. Other than her demonic features the most striking thing about her was her voluptuous figure. The demoness’s tail eagerly moved back and forth behind her. Her feet were not cloven hooves, other than the red skin and black toenails they were normal. Oddly, Amber found the she-devil’s clothing to be the strangest thing of all. It was totally inappropriate for a creature like her, consisting of a white tank top and a little pair of blue shorts.

The demon slowly raised her arms and said, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, you aint got no reason to shoot me.” Her voice was what you would expect a demoness to sound like, sultry and otherworldly, yet the way she talked was like a normal person. The two of them just stood there like that for about a minute, and then the standoff was interrupted by someone entering the room via the doorway that was located directly behind Amber.

The armored woman turned, hit the newcomer square in the face with the butt of her shotgun. Then she slung the weapon onto her back and drew her pistol, the intent was to get behind the newcomer and use them as a human shield. Before Amber made her next move, she intentionally took a second to assess the new threat.

It had the shape of a woman, complete with curves, a bust, an angular face with a pleasant smile, and long flowing hair. However, it was no woman, it wasn’t even a solid being like the demon. This thing wasn’t just transparent, as she was made of clear liquid; judging by the smell, Amber would have guessed water. Inside of this being’s forehead a point of golden light shown, waves of gold pulsing from it and traveling throughout the rest of the body. A dent left by the shotgun’s buttstock popped back out, waves of liquid rippling for a second.

The only thing that kept the woman in the gas mask from putting a bullet into the thing’s forehead was the discipline that firearms training brings. Remembering that there was still a servant of Satan standing right behind her, Amber bolted, skirting around the translucent woman and out the door.

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A quick glance at the next room revealed that it, like the kitchen, was something straight out of the 70s. The wood paneling and shag carpets made Amber ask herself where in the hell she was for the second time. The TV set was encased in woodgrain. Several vinyl record holders sat on top of a shelf, each displaying a classic from the era. The sofa and chairs were a blinding shade of orange.

And then there was the red light that was coming in through the windows. What was causing it? A fire? Was it dawn? Dusk? Had she been knocked out and carried here? That would certainly explain how she had changed locations.

But none of that mattered at the moment. She needed to get out of the area, needed to find a safe and secluded place to get her bearings. This house, she assumed it was a house, was clearly occupied so the best option was to get out of there. Amber rapidly worked her way to the door.

The instant she got outside she planned to do a sweep from right to left, checking for any threats, but she never even started. It was the sight of the sky that stopped her: a pitch-black void that was filled with bolts of red lightning, which discharged endlessly. A massive, dark stone tower sat behind the house, silhouetted against the insane sky. The home had a decent sized front lawn, beyond that the ground abruptly dropped off into the abyss.

She took a look around. The plain brown bricks that the house was made of contrasted with the stylized interior. The faded white paint of a picket fence enclosed the home, but still left plenty of room. The ground was covered in thick grass, the place needed to be mowed. The pointy red hats of several garden gnomes peeked above the green blades. A stone birdbath sat near a window, but there were no birds in sight. Flat rocks had been intricately placed in a line, so that they formed a pathway that led to the front gate. The metal mailbox had, “2977 Bakshi,” printed on it using blocky stencils.

A bolt of lightning came from the sky, hitting somewhere out of sight. Amber’s mind slammed back into survival mode. She dashed around the side of the house, finding that the backyard wasn’t much different from the front. Rust spots on a grill and a weather beaten picknick table were among the things that she noticed. Amber scrambled past an overgrown garden and hopped the fence.

A good distance behind the backyard she spotted the start of a forested area. There was something off about the trees, they had grown twisted. To its left, the ground rose significantly near the edge. It was on this hill that the tower sat. Colossal basalt blocks sat around the base of the spire, which it seemed to be constructed from. Now that she had a better look at the structure, she could plainly see that it was still under construction. Wooden scaffolding surrounded the outer walls and a primitive crane was positioned at the top. Humanoid shapes were moving around to area, clearly a busy construction crew.

The sound of the backdoor being pushed open helped to keep her running. The demonesses’ sultry voice called out to her, “Wait, Amber! Mal wanted me to find you!”

There was no way. She was a demon. How could a demon be trusted? The answer was they could never be trusted, everything that they said was a lie. The pleas for her to stop continued, but they were tuned out as she got closer to the tower and got a good look at the builders.

They looked like men made of grey stone which was flicked with bits of shiny white and black. Arcs of electricity, red like the bolts that filled the sky, danced across their stony bodies. Crudely fashioned, these rock men had no defined features such as toes or mouths, the only details were glowing red spots where the eyes would be and four fingered hands.

There was an explosion of rainbow fire, it quickly dissipated, a group of stone men now stood around one of the great big blocks, having appeared out of thin air. Without pause, they began pushing it toward the tower.

The rock men paid no attention to her, going about their work with a single-minded focus as she raced toward the tree line and the demonic woman yelled for her to stop. It was a good thing too, because it was doubtful that 9mm rounds would have enough force to pierce their skin. The sky was filled with crimson lightning, there was a massive tower with a seventies house in front of it, and yet somehow things were still getting stranger. At last she reached the forest, now she had cover and concealment, a chance to stop and think.

Based on what she had seen it seemed like it was the colorful flames that had brought her here. Things were operating on a whole new kind of logic now, a version of reality where magick existed and demons roamed around. This last thought begged the question, why was there a demon here? Was this Hell? This was a strange place, although it didn’t really look like Hell. Amber was one of the good guys, her actions had helped many people, why would she even be in Hell in the first place?

The calls of the demon persisted as the she-devil stalked the trees, searching for the young woman in the gasmask and body armor.

Amber considered the situation, decided that offence was the best defense. She burst out of the bushes, weapon at the ready. “Hands up!” Amber yelled.

She had gotten the drop on the demon, which made a sassy comment about clearly being unarmed, but still complied.

“Where are we?” Amber demanded.

“Please don’t shoot me. If really hurts.”

“It will kill you.”

“Not likely. Maybe that boomstick you got slung across your back. But not that handgun,” she smiled, “Angry girlfriend walked in on me with her man, pulled out a little concealed carry pistol. My shoulder hurt for hours!”

“Stop the nonsense. Where are we?” Amber demanded, her weapon still pointed at the demon’s head.

“Me and Mally-G found this place and decided that it would make an excellent base.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“Wait, wait, I’m sorry. I didn’t think about it. You’re from Earth, you guys don’t know about the true nature of the universe. I don’t go to your world that much anymore; believe it or not there are places that are much more repressed. I blame liberalism, and the internet.”

“You need to stop fucking with me before…”

The deep and hypnotic voice of the wizard cut her threat short, “Amber, please don’t point that thing at my friend.”