Watching.
Staring. Silent.
He didn’t move.
He didn’t speak.
He could not move.
And it hurt to speak.
Quaraun had long ago lost track of days, nights, weeks, months, years. Here there was no time. There was nothing.
No day.
No lights.
No windows.
Only darkness.
Darkness. Darkness. And more darkness.
A glass globe light hung from the ceiling. But the light switch was outside in the hall, and was only turned on when someone came in to talk to him, which happened rarely. Days passed between someone even opening the door to toss food in at him.
White Rock was worse than the rumours.
It was no hospital.
Torture. Starvation. Disease.
Dull, endless pain punctuated by brief, random bursts of feeling strange.
This was White Rock.
Hack doctors with no real medical degrees who hacked up victims for the fun of hearing them scream.
Patients mutilated, sewed up, healed, then mutilated again.
And it went on.
Torture. Starvation. Disease.
The stench of burning flesh.
The smell of burning... everything.
No one could get White Rock to change their evil ways.
It was a prison.
No toilets. No running water.
Rooms which had beds, the beds had broken, rusted metal frames, mattresses not safe to sleep on due to rat nests inside them.
Half of the ancient building was crumbling and collapsed.
The other half was barely holding together with pieces of sheet metal, patched together with electrical tape and whatever else they had on hand.
So very cold. No heat, only an ancient metal box fan, which circulated cold air.
And isolated. Oh, ever so isolated.
White Rock Asylum for the Criminally Insane had been built out of an ancient abandoned white marble mansion that sat on the highest peak, of the coldest snow-capped mountain for miles.
The white marble mansion had stood on the banks of the coldest stream for decades, its white Carrara Marble walls reflecting the surrounding snowy landscape.
From the deep snow, the Hellhounds had emerged.
Even if one could make it past the fire-breathing HellHounds that guarding the barbwire topped chain-link fences, anyone daring to make an escape would freeze to death long before they could reach the bottom of the mountain.
There wasn’t a city for miles. Nothing but cold Northern Maine forest stretching onward for endless miles.
The white marble mansion had been built hundreds of years ago by an eccentric millionaire that used the money he made from selling his own brand of synthetic meat products to fund and endow this “hospital”.
But none of that was very important just now. For Quaraun could not see the outside. He had never seen the outside. He’s not even seen the outside of his cell, since he had arrived many, many years ago.
Quaraun had been locked in White Rock for decades now. Perhaps longer. With no windows and no lights in his little room-cell, he could not make heads of tails of days or nights.
It had been years and years since he had seen the sun or the stars or even his beloved moon, and he wasn’t even sure if it was day or night. It didn’t really matter.
Blind in one eye, the left side of his face burned off, near-mute from the burns in his throats, his hands crushed since childhood, and his legs re-broken weekly to ensure he could never walk, Quaraun could only lie on the floor and star at the door. Only this and nothing more, for several decades now.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles soothed the tortured soul.
And now a great evil had risen.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles rose up in wrath.
The Thullid Invasion was about to begin.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles, to protect us forever more.
The entire outside world was in grave danger.
From Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
They just didn’t know it yet.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles, they were coming.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles, to take us all.
A long time ago, in ages past.
There had been a great war between the Elves and The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley, the Great Lich Lord. And the Elves lost. The Elf Eater ate all the Elves, save one. One whose blood didn’t taste right. One whose blood tasted fishy. Quaraun became the Last Elf and lover to the Elf Eater. But that was ever so long a time ago.
With only his own thoughts for company, Quaraun slowly went mad. Dubbed Quaraun the Insane, centuries ago, for the murder of his wife and four small children, Quaraun was now actually becoming insane from his solitary confinement.
Quaraun lay on the cold, hard floor.
There was a bed in the room, but he could not get up into it. Both of his legs were broken.
Both of his hands were broken.
Both his legs were broken.
He could not stand. He could not walk. He could not pull himself up. He could not even drag himself along the floor. All he could do was lie on the floor in one spot and stare at what little of the room he could see from there.
Day after day.
Week after week.
Month after month.
Year after year.
Every few days, a man dressed in white brought food in and set it on the floor beside Quaraun. The crippled Elf struggled to move, struggled to lift his head, struggled to eat the food, without hands, without sitting up. Eating like a dog, trying to get at the food using only his mouth.
Quaraun had no one to talk to.
He had no one to laugh with, no one to have a conversation over.
He lay on the floor, looking at nothing.
Every few weeks, four men in white would enter the room, carrying a sledgehammer. Three men held him down, while the third re-broke his legs, shattered his knees. Crushed his ankles.
The first few times it happened, Quaraun screamed in agony, but the men complained that his anguished screams of pain were too difficult to hear, making their job hard to endure, so one day, a doctor arrived with a scalpel, and made slices in Quaraun’s larynx and tongue.
The incisions left him still able to talk somewhat. But his voice now a hushed whisper. He could no longer scream. He still cried out in agony when the sledgehammer contacted his bones, but no sound escaped his lips.
Thus, Quaraun became near-mute.
Every once in a while, a new man in white would come in, and Quaraun would beg him to stop the pain. But the new man would beat him too. A new man in white would come and break his legs again, crush his ankles, and beat him, just to see Quaraun suffer again.
Years went by this way.
Laying in darkness.
Hands, wrists, knees, and ankles broken and re-broken every three weeks.
Alone.
No one to talk to.
His soul bond with BoomFuzzy severed. Their souls bound together, no more.
Empty. And alone. With only the thoughts in his head.
Quaraun’s one saving grace was that he was not really an Elf.
Quaraun was a Thullid.
The Thullid had once ruled many lands, but today were scattered and driven into the darkest woods and deepest caverns in the hills. Their skin was pale and their features were slender, but most were short and wide. And all were various sea creatures. Some were squids. Others octopi.
Quaraun was a female JellyFish named SunTa, referred to by her people as The Sacred Pink JellyFish.
A Jelly-Thullid. And Quaraun the Elf had been dead since he was nine years old. They had implanted the JellyFish into the Elf, when the Elf was a babe of just three, and after six years of gnawing on his brain, absorbing his memories, the Elf boy died and the JellyFish assimilated his identity, taking control of his body.
Quaraun was a female JellyFish, living the life of the male Elf, whose dead body she wore. And clutched in her clasp, hidden away deep inside the Elf’s hollowed out skull, were seven million lovely violet eggs. The eggs were the hope of the Thullid.
Seven million eggs, tucked in, safe and sound, all wrapped up in Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
One day, the Jellies were going to hatch.
And bring an end to the Human world.
But Mother had forgotten her children.
Forgotten to feed.
Forgotten to care.
To feed.
To care.
Mother loved her children.
But Mother loved BoomFuzzy more.
But now BoomFuzzy was gone.
BoomFuzzy and GhoulSpawn both.
And Mother remembered her children.
Her seven million eggs.
And Mother wrapped her ever loving tentacles around her precious clutch of eggs and promised: “I will forget you nevermore. Mother loved BoomFuzzy, but she loved her children more!”
And Mother’s tentacles had grown long and thin, and the tentacles were reaching everywhere. Mother’s ever loving tentacles, vain no more.
Every night, no matter his pain, no matter his suffering, no matter his sorrow, Quaraun sang to his clutch of Thullid eggs. Quaraun the Elf, the last of his kind.
The Sacred Pink JellyFish was the last female Thullid. While tens of thousands of males still lived, an angry revolt had centuries ago broken into the subterranean caverns, poisoned the primordial pools, smashed every last Elder Brain, and destroyed the ancient Thullid gods.
Save one.
SunTa.
The Scared Pink JellyFish. hastily grabbed by her devoted Di’Jinn Priest, the purple squid-headed ZooLock, she was shoved into a goldfish bowl, and hidden within the priests robes, as ZooLock fled for the star-ships and snuck on board, and fled into the farthest reaches of the cosmos, to a little backwoods planet called, Earth.
SunTa.
The Scared Pink JellyFish.
Mother of the Thullids.
Queen of the Pink.
Queen of the Damned.
The last of her kind.
And the first of her kind.
Mother.
Mother of the Damned.
Thus one Mother Brain survived, still clutching her precious eggs. The shipped crashed on Earth, in the bay, just outside of the little Quebec town of Ivujivik in 800A.D., and there ZooLock did what had never been done before: he implanted an Elder Brain inside a host body.
No more free to swim and grew in her primordial pool, SunTa, The Sacred Pink JellyFish, the last of the Mother Brains, now lived in the hollowed out a skull of a male Elf named Quaraun.
That was many hundreds of years ago. She’d lived in the Elf for 750 years, before being captured by the Justice Mages and brought to White Rock. And who knows how long she had been trapped here in White Rock.
But every night she sang. Sang to her eggs. In the vain hope that one day, they would hatch and she would have her seven million baby JellyFish to implant in seven million hosts.
No, she knew they wouldn’t hatch. That was impossible.
But to do that, she needed a male Thullid. The eggs had to be fertilized or they would never hatch. But it didn’t matter.
Alone with her eggs and no one else for company, The Sacred Pink JellyFish slowly went mad, signing nightly to her unfertilized eggs about Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
It didn’t really matter. She had long since lost all touch with reality.
What mattered right now was that his prison door had opened, and a new prisoner had entered the cell.
One day, after several decades of solitary confinement in this never changing manner, the door opened, and another patient, another prisoner, was tossed into the room. His wrists and ankles also broken. His punishment the same.
The man was thrown into the cell, and the door was locked once again.
What he was doing here?
Quaraun looked up. He could barely see through the darkness, but the figure was familiar. Long, beautiful golden locks of Cotswold sheep's wool, the golden cloven hooves, the ram-horned man with the shaggy sheep’s legs and long sheep tail.
Quaraun lover, GhoulSpawn.
The Chaos Demon.
The Ursiug.
The sheep-man.
No.
GhoulSpawn was dead.
This was not GhoulSpawn.
This was a Thullid, wearing GhoulSpawn’s body.
This was The Gremlin.
The Gremlin.
All that remained of GhoulSpawn.
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Gremlin looked round, peering through the darkness of the room, trying to determine where he was and who was with him.
“Quaraun? Is that you?”
Gremlin dragged himself nearer to the figure laying silent and unmoving on the floor.
“What’s going on? Why’d they lock us in here?”
The figure moved, slowly sitting up.
“GhoulSpawn.”
“What? Quaraun! Oh! You’re alive! I had thought you dead! It’s been so long!”
“You are not GhoulSpawn,” Quaraun said, his hoarse voice barely a whisper.
“I know,” Gremlin answered. “I’m sorry.”
“GhoulSpawn is dead. And you stole his body.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Gremlin hung his head. Gremlin slowly sat up, struggling to his feet.
“But...” He looked at Quaraun, head hung low. “But I need your help.”
“What? I don’t want you here. Why are you here?”
“I don’t know,” Gremlin answered. “I think my presence is meant to torture you.”
“Well, it’s working.”
“I’m sorry. He’s not gone completely. I still have his memories. I know everything he knew. I remember everything he remembered. I know you and he were lovers.”
“I know. It was the same for me when I became this Elf. But I’m not the Elf, just like you are not GhoulSpawn. For years, I told myself I was. I had his memories. His body. I became him. Lived his life. Just like you live GhoulSpawn’s life. I was never me. I never lived my life. I always lived as the Elf, not the Thullid. I am not Quaraun. I never was. He died when he was 9 years old. I stole his body. His mind. His memories. I assimilated him. Just like you now assimilate GhoulSpawn.”
Quaraun stopped talking and coughed violently. He spoke too much. His throat was raw with pain.
“But...” Gremlin began. “I can be GhoulSpawn for you.”
“Please don’t,” Quaraun requested urgently and forcefully, in between his dry, hacking coughs. “Don’t be GhoulSpawn. You’re not him. Don’t pretend to be.”
“It is what we Thullids do.”
Tears were streaming down Quaraun’s face. “I know. I did it to Quaraun. And I know now, I shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have been with him. I should have been me.”
Gremlin’s eyes were welling up with tears. “I’m so sorry. Please let me be your friend,” Gremlin pleaded. “I don’t have anyone else. I’ve been alone for three hundred years.”
“Three.... three hundred years? Has it been so long?”
“Since we were arrested and brought to White Rock? Yes. We’ve both been here for three hundred years.”
“I thought... are you sure?”
“Yes. GhoulSpawn, being a Demon born in Hell, his body attracts huge amounts of magic energy. His body is a power source.”
“Yes. I know. GhoulSpawn was a Sorcerer. Had he trained, he could have been a formidable mage. Probably more powerful than even me.”
“More powerful than you? Are you certain?”
“Oh yes. He just had so very little interest in being a mage. He thought it was fun and all, but he like other things better.”
“After they implanted me into him,” Gremlin went on. “They chained me to a time machine and used his blood to power it. He died chained to the machine. He was so frightened. I became him, while chained to that machine. Every day for three hundred years, they went back in time to Ongadada and tried to stop it. Tried to change it. Every day for three hundred years, they tortured me and starved me and beat me and raped me. But then one day, last week, the time machine broke. They don’t know why. It just stopped working. Now they are trying to figure out how to build another. Humans are so very short-lived. No one from three hundred years ago thought to write down how they built the time machine, so no one now knows how to build another. And until they do, they no longer need me, so they brought me here. So, here I am, now with you.”
“I understand now,” Quaraun said, as he looked away. “Why my father killed my mother and sent me away. She was not his wife. I was not his son. And he knew it. It was his wife’s body, his son’s body, but not them living inside, for they were dead, and we had replaced them. He could not bear to look at us, just as I can not bear to look at you.”
“I feel everything he felt as they tortured him. As he died,” Gremlin said in an unusually low voice. “I felt it all. I feel everything GhoulSpawn felt. I know everything he knew. I have all of his memories.”
“I know,” Quaraun said, disturbed by the thought of it. “It was the same for me, when Quaraun died.”
“He loved you. GhoulSpawn did. You were his whole world. He’d have done anything for you.”
“I know,” Quaraun said, expressing his discontent as he spoke. “I loved him too. But you’re not him. And I don’t love you. Please. I don’t want you near me. I don’t even want you in this room. You are not him. You killed him and stole his body and I hate you for it.”
Gremlin dragged himself away from Quaraun, staying on the far side of the room. With the rods piercing his ankles, he could not walk, could not stand. He sat alone and cried, his heart breaking with the sadness he felt.
Quaraun, who hated him for what he had done, could not bring himself to hurt the boy, but the hatred and rage boiled in his chest, and he would not be moved.
Days became weeks.
Weeks became months.
Months had passed, and Quaraun still refused to speak to Gremlin.
“Why must you do this to me? Please talk to me,” Gremlin blubbered incoherently between the tears. “Don’t do this to me. Please. I’m your friend. Don’t send me away. Please. I’m sorry. I really am sorry, and so sorry. I was wrong. I truly am sorry. You’re my friend,” Gremlin sobbed. “Why? Why?”
Quaraun could not answer him as well as before.
“You’re not him,” Quaraun stated, keeping his demeanour as calm as possible.
“I love you too.”
“Gremlin. Stop. Please,” Quaraun said, reflecting deeply on the subject. “You’re not GhoulSpawn.”
Gremlin looked back and stared at Quaraun through the dark.
Tears filled his eyes.
“I love you too,” he said.
“I know,” Quaraun said. “That’s why this has to end.”
GhoulSpawn had lived with Quaraun and BoomFuzzy for decades. The three had been lovers, each to the other two.
The trio had a strong emotional bond with each other, never leaving each other’s side.
Never a day apart.
And though Gremlin was not GhoulSpawn, he had GhoulSpawn’s body, GhoulSpawn’s mind, and GhoulSpawn’s memories. GhoulSpawn’s love for Quaraun had been so great that it overshadowed everything else in Gremlin’s mind. And now, to see Quaraun’s rejection of him tore his heart apart.
“Please. Don’t send me away. I have no one else. I am GhoulSpawn. I can be with him again. I’m still him in your head. I can still be him, and I will be good to you. If you let me. I will be your friend. Please. I love you. I want to be a part of your family. Let me stay, please. I miss you, Quaraun. I need to be with you.”
Quaraun tried to reach his hand out to Gremlin, but was too weak, so he could only gesture.
“Come here, Gremlin. Come closer.”
Gremlin crawled slowly towards Quaraun.
Slowly crawling.
Stumbling.
Finally reaching Quaraun.
“I can not move,” Quaraun said.
“I know,” Gremlin said, as he looked down into Quaraun’s anxious eyes. “I’m so sorry this has happened.”
“Lie with me. Hold me. But you are Gremlin. You are not GhoulSpawn. Don’t try to be him. It hurts enough that you wear his body.”
Gremlin lay down beside Quaraun, hugging him. Neither moved. Neither spoke. The two remained this way until they had both drifted off to sleep.
When Quaraun woke up, he found Gremlin curled up next to him.
He smiled.
Gremlin smiled.
After that, the days were not so lonely. Though the three were now two, and one of them was not himself, Quaraun was so lonely that it started to not matter if this was Gremlin or GhoulSpawn. That it was a warm, fur covered body for him to snuggle against, after so many years alone, that was all that mattered anymore.
Days became weeks.
Weeks became months.
Months became years.
And the cold, painful beginning of their relationship’s start melted away, as Quaraun and Gremlin became lovers, trapped together in solitary confinement, in White Rock.
And both forgot one very important thing. Like Quaraun, Gremlin was a rare Jelly Thullid, and tucked away inside Mother’s ever loving tentacles, were seven million eggs waited to be fertilized.
The first time that the two touched, Gremlin gasped. Then he smiled wider than any smile Quaraun had seen from him before. When they kissed, Gremlin laughed and clapped his hands.
They hugged, they embraced, they kissed, and it made Gremlin happier than anything either could ever remember.
“Gremlin,” Quaraun breathed one day. “I love you.”
“I know,” Gremlin said. “And I love you too.”
It went like this for some time. They held each other in their arms, sometimes kissing, sometimes hugging, often just simply enjoying each other’s company. Sometimes, when they were both awake and able to move, they sat on the floor together, or stood together, and talked. They talked about everything and nothing. They talked about their friends, about the future. Gremlin told Quaraun stories of things that had happened over the last few years, and Quaraun shared stories of things that he had experienced in the past years. They talked about the past. They talked about BoomFuzzy. Both had loved him. They talked about how much they missed their old world.
The sun rose over the forest and cast its warm light upon the white marble building. Somewhere deep inside this high security prison, two sleeping figures lie together. They lay quietly, peacefully, and slept in each other’s arms. For the first night in decades, both men slept a quiet, peaceful sleep.
Elves did not require sleep. They could remain for months without any sleep at all. But tonight, Quaraun had fallen asleep. Asleep in the warm embrace of GhoulSpawn’s arms, the comforting Cotswold sheep's wool of GhoulSpawn’s soft fluffy fur covered legs pressed against his body. The familiar feeling of GhoulSpawn’s hard cloven hooves.
GhoulSpawn was dead, but his body lived on. Host to a JellyFish Thullid that had eaten GhoulSpawn’s brain, absorbed his memories, and was now living in GhoulSpawn’s body.
The Gremlin. A strange future version of GhoulSpawn, whom Quaraun had met several times in the past. A time traveller whom had gone to the past to warn Quaraun of this very future.
A future that was now a present.
A future where GhoulSpawn was dead and BoomFuzzy was gone forever, and all that remained of Quaraun’s past life was the undead body of a dear friend, now possessed by a Thullid.
Quaraun’s only comfort was the parasite who wore his dead friend’s body. But Quaraun knew that at some point in the future, he and Gremlin had become lovers. More than that, Gremlin had said they were a married couple, living together on a sheep-farm. A life of peace, at long last, after several years of hell in White Rock.
Quaraun clung to that prediction.
That hope.
That knowledge that this nightmare would not last forever. That one day he would again be free. And until then, he would make do with what he had. And what he had was Gremlin.
As the weeks turned into months, Gremlin rearranged the room in an attempt to make life more comfortable for Quaraun. The guilt of GhoulSpawn’s death weighed heavy in Gremlin’s mind. Quaraun could see this in Gremlin’s every move, every word, every action.
Gremlin became a servant to Quaraun, fussing endlessly over Quaraun’s every need. Gremlin had dragged the mattresses off the beds and made a single larger bed on the floor for the two of them. He’d used the pillows to prop Quaraun upright and help the Elf to sit up. Gremlin became Quaraun’s hands and legs and eyes.
Unable to walk, unable to see, unable to use his hands, Quaraun could do nothing but sit and stare ahead into the hazy, blurry darkness.
When food came to the room, Gremlin fed Quaraun.
When soiled. Gremlin bathed Quaraun.
“You’re becoming ZooLock,” Quaraun said one day.
“Am I?” Gremlin asked.
“Yes. He was like this.”
“Like what?”
“Served me endlessly,” Quaraun went on, still calm and collected. “Worshipped the ground I walked on. Was ready to drop anything to feed me, bath me, serve me, take care of me. I never understood it. And I could never get him to stop it, either. I don’t know why he was like that. It was like he was so full of guilt that he felt he had to make up for something, but I never knew what. Hehe! Oh. Poor ZooLock. I miss him. I have no idea what happened to him. One day, he just stopped showing up. He was old. I assume he died. I can’t imagine anything else would ever have stopped him from following me around.”
“I don’t have many memories of ZooLock. GhoulSpawn...” Gremlin paused upon saying the name of his dead host. His lips trembled. The immediate flood of guilt and shame flooded over him as he realized he had spoken GhoulSpawn’s name. “I’m sorry.” He began crying.
“It’s alright.”
“I should not have said that.”
“No. You’re fine,” Quaraun stated, keeping his demeanour as calm as possible. He realized Gremlin was having a difficult time adjusting to living in his host’s body. “No. You wouldn’t have many memories of ZooLock. ZooLock was scared of GhoulSpawn. And Gremlin. He avoided being around whenever one or the other was with me. So neither of you ever saw him much. Not your past nor your future self, knows ZooLock well. But he’s like this. Like how you are right now. This... guilt driven need to serve me. It’s uncanny, actually. You are so much like ZooLock. You look like GhoulSpawn, but you act like ZooLock.”
The two were silent for a very long time after that.
“Gremlin?”
“Yes?”
“Tell me about GhoulSpawn,” Quaraun said, as he drew in a long breath.
“What do you mean?”
“You have his memories. Yes?”
“Yes,” Gremlin said, fidgeting nervously.
“He never talked about himself much. Tell me about him.”
Gremlin talked softly about GhoulSpawn as he tended to Quaraun’s needs.
Sometimes, Gremlin would sing while he worked.
Gremlin’s voice was like music to Quaraun’s ears. The sound of his voice, even the words he sang, were beautiful to him. Hearing Gremlin sing brought him comfort. Hearing him sing the songs he remembered made him happy and calm. Hearing his voice in song reminded him of days long ago.
Of ZooLock.
“ZooLock used to sing to me,” Quaraun said, smiling reassuringly as he spoke.
Quaraun thought of the days of the Old Kingdom, of when the world seemed so much brighter, happier. It was such a lovely tune. He listened for hours. Quaraun fell asleep listening to the song.
He dreamed that one evening, after a month, they left the mountain and went to the city. Gremlin took Quaraun out walking, as he usually did. They walked for hours. They were both silent. No longer broken and bruised. No longer crying or screaming. Their souls had merged. Now all that was left was a simple, unconscious acceptance that they belonged to each other. That, if the world was right, they would forever remain together. Then Gremlin pointed ahead to the river.
“Look at the fish in there.” Gremlin said. “There. There they are.”
Quaraun woke up. There was no river. No fish. They were still in the prison. He was still crippled. Unable to walk. The two bodies laid on top of the mattress between the two unused beds. Their breaths came evenly, almost in unison. Their chests rising and falling gently and rhythmically. Gremlin lay beside him, still asleep. Though he had resented his presence at first, Quaraun was grateful to have Gremlin with him now.
And that is exactly how the two found themselves six days later.
As always, they were awakened by the sound of keys unlocking the door. Two of the guards entered the room carrying trays. On the tray were bowls filled with noodle and cabbage soup and a picture of water.
Both men ate silently. After swallowing their breakfast, they placed the dishes and plates on the floor outside the bars.
After the guards were gone, the two men continued eating. Then, after a period of time, an order came down through the chain of command. A small metal bowl with clean cloth, some fresh water and a small towel appeared in front of them through the bars, and they picked up the bowl to drink. Both men began cleaning themselves using the water provided.
When finished, they dried themselves with the towels.
The door opened.
A bright beam of light filled the room.
Too bright.
It blinded them both in the darkness.
And they both knew something was wrong. Something was different. These were not the usual guards. This was not the usual time. The bright spotlights had never been here before.
Terrified, Gremlin and Quaraun clung to each other. Huddled together. Hugging each other. In the room's corner. On the floor, as they always did and always were.
Both terrified of any person who entered the room.
Both crippled and knowing they could not fight back no matter the torture they received. Together they trembled in fear as the figures moved towards them.
“Just the Gremlin?” a man’s voice asked.
“Just the Gremlin,” another man’s voice replied.
The first man reached out and took hold of Gremlin’s shoulders and tried to pry him off of his clinging embrace to Quaraun.
“Come on now,” the man said. “You gotta let go.”
Two other men entered the room. They too tried to separate the clinging embrace Quaraun and Gremlin had on each other. When they finally broke the two free of each other, they dragged Gremlin over to the door. Gremlin, thinking he was going to be tortured, kicked and screamed, and fought to not be dragged towards the door.
“Come on now. Don’t be like this. You’re being released. You’re free.”
“Released?”
“Yes.”
“From White Rock? No one’s ever released from White Rock.”
“They reviewed your case.”
“Who reviewed my case?”
“Don’t know. But the orders came down from Roderic himself.”
“Roderic? Swanzen?”
“Yep.”
“Of the Twighlight Manor?”
“That’s the one. And I think that’s where they’re taking you.”
“The Twighlight Manor?”
“Yep. They got a doctor there that’s gonna fix you up. Put splints inside your legs, so you can walk again.”
“Why?”
“Don’t you want to walk again?”
“No. Yes,” Gremlin said, his heart racing as he spoke. “I mean, no, why am I being released?”
“Seems you got imprisoned on false charges. You never should have been here to begin with. You didn’t do anything.”
“I know I didn’t do anything,” Gremlin said, his voice trembling nervously. “I’ve been saying that for years. No one would listen to me. You all said I was crazy.”
“Well, it IS a mental institute. And you ARE a patient.”
“A patient falsely accused and here on wrongful charges.”
“Yep. That’s why they all say, but I guess you were right. Anyways, you’re free to go.”
“What about Quaraun?”
“We don’t say that name.”
“I know,” Gremlin said with a grimace. “But what about him?”
“He belongs here. Dangerous serial killer. He’ll never see the light of day.”
“I will not leave without him,” Gremlin stated.
“Don’t you understand? You’re free. You’re being released from prison. You don’t want to stay here.”
“But he is my friend. I have no one else.”
“You’ll make new friends on the outside.”
“But he has no one else. He needs me. He’ll be alone.”
“Come on.”
“No!”
“People usually want to get out of here, not fight to stay inside.”
“No! I’ll not leave him. No!”
By this time, Quaraun understood what was going on and tried to get to Gremlin, but the guards pulled him back and were beating him.
“Leave him alone!” Gremlin screamed. “He can’t hurt you. He’s crippled. Stop hurting him!”
Changes were coming to White Rock. A new head of administrations had arrived. Harrier Mudsburge, grandson of BoomFuzzy. And while he hated his grandfather, Harrier hated even more the cruel and unjust way the Humans of White Rock had treated his grandfather’s favourite lovers.
Outside the prison walls, Gremlin stared up at White Rock. Excavation equipment was rebuilding the walls.
“What’s going on?” Gremlin asked the Phooka, now in charge.
“Roderic Swanzen has bought White Rock and put us Phookas in charge of getting this place in order. You may go,” The Faerie added. “You’re not a patient or prisoner here anymore.”
“What about Quaraun? He’s been in there since 1458!”
“I know. The building is being restored. Quaraun will be moved to better quarters, and I think when all is finished, I can arrange for you to visit him. Perhaps I can arrange for both of you to visit BoomFuzzy.”
“BoomFuzzy’s alive?”
“Yes. Well, as alive as a Lich can be. But yes, my grandfather still lives in his state of undeath.”
“But we thought...”
“I know what you were led to believe.”
“What year is it?” Gremlin asked.
“1974,” Harrier replied. “The two of you have been in here five hundred years.”
“1974?
“Yes.”
“It’s 1974?”
“Yes.”
“That’s the year I... oh... I know what happened...”
“What happened?”
“Nothing. Just something I remembered.”
“Remembered what?”
“Mother’s ever loving tentacles.”
“Mother?” Harrier asked, looking very confused.
“Mother is pregnant.”
“Who is Mother?”
“We don’t say her name anymore.”