What good was having a culinary arts degree if you hated cooking? That thought ran through Sam’s mind as he set out another quick dish consisting of discount beef, premixed chili spice packets, a can of crushed tomatoes, and a can of kidney beans. He scooped up a ladle full of the brownish red mixture and transferred it into a bowl.
No one showed up for game night the third week in a row, leaving him in his apartment alone with enough chili for five people. Did his games really suck that much? He couldn’t afford to buy full premade campaigns for Runeblade so he had to think of his own original stories and monsters.
It was a lot more work being original than he imagined. Every week the party he met would point out how much his monster or villain was like one from a movie or game they saw recently. His maps were auto generated on a website he found because he had no idea how to draw maps, much less how rivers and mountains worked. Every week he would be tired from planning out the sessions, making up new NPCs and towns, thinking of ways to waste time if they beat the creatures or evil warriors too quickly.
Apparently it just wasn’t that good, or else half the group wouldn’t have called it off, and no one wants to just play with two or three people for a session, so they all decided to cancel. Now he sat in his living room, spooning chili and crackers into his mouth. It was perhaps the most bland, uninspired thing he tasted. Well that wasn’t true, in college he once made a chicken curry that his chef instructor called “a pathetic excuse for food, even a dog would send this back to the kitchen”. That one really did sting.
He reached over for his laptop and browsed through an endless slew of streaming sites. Deciding what to watch became his standard of existence until he had to go into work. Just the thought of going back in made him feel sick.
Being a line cook was a soul sucking experience. His degree pretty much meant nothing to most restaurants if he had no time in a professional kitchen and he neglected doing a stagiaire. Now he was in need of money with no work time in the kitchen. Basically no fine dining establishment would take him so he found work in a chain restaurant. That meant his other cooks might be fine, but the wait staff, management, customers, cashiers, and everything else that didn’t hold a pan or cooking utensil in that building blamed him and the cooks for everything.
He wanted to quit, but he had only been working in this restaurant for five months, most places wouldn’t see that as a good amount of time. Sam told himself he’d stick it out at least a year then try going to a better kitchen. That was seven years and ten restaurants ago.
Even with his luck at finding a good restaurant looking worse every year he thought he at least still liked to cook, to make good food. But the last few months made him regret ever picking up a spatula. Every order sent back, every complaint about butter and salt, all of it made him hate cooking a little more.
So he tried to tell good stories in his games. But apparently both of his hobbies were not to be his career. Cooking and storytelling, why were both so hard?
Sam ate another spoonful of bland chili as he turned on a movie. It was funny enough, was it worth 14 dollars a month to watch mediocre comedies online? Probably not, but he didn’t have anything else to do.
About halfway through the movie his smartphone rang with a few short beeps. Some notifications? He did have the news app and a couple others for coupons and stuff to save a few dollars here and there. He picked up the phone, unlocked the screen and read through his recent notifications. Nothing about the news, new games, no flash sales or deals on food.
Instead what he read was a text thread for his tabletop group. One of his players had found a new table to play at, apparently his boyfriend’s brother was starting his own game and wanted players. Soon more of his players said they would try it out. Only a few texts in they realized they sent it to the wrong thread and another player told him to switch chats.
So that's the way it is? He groaned and set the phone down. Most likely they’d all play at that table from now on. So he was alone, again.
He didn’t know how long he sat there on the couch, the movie ended a while ago and was stuck on a preview for some crappy looking show. The chili in his bowl was cold and congealed into a half-solid sludge. He should’ve gotten ground beef with less fat, or added more water, or not have been such a failure in life. The last option was a bit harder to do.
Sam reached his arm up and shut the laptop, setting it aside on a little table in the center of his living room. He stood and stretched, then reached down for a pack of cigarettes and his lighter. Nothing could make him feel better in that moment, but life didn’t wait for him. He still had to wake up and go to work tomorrow regardless of how shit his weekend had been.
He dragged his feet back over to the kitchen table and was going to start putting away the food and maps. Then he stopped. Someone was sitting at his table, eating his food and looking over his notes.
Panic brewed in his chest. Who the fuck is this? How’d they get in, did I leave the door unlocked? His thoughts raced through his mind, he froze there in place trying to think of what to say? If the person was violent or had a gun he could die trying to just speak up to them.
Before he could speak the intruder let out a laugh. “Ahhh I’ve never seen a story like this.” They turned and Sam could finally see them in the light. From what he could tell they were a guy, kind of pretty for a guy, but there was definitely a bit of beard hair on the soft looking face. Their voice was too-deep for the gentle green eyes and unblemished face with shiny lips covered in gloss that stood there smiling at him. It was like looking at a doll that had, for some reason, a thin white beard painted on.
“Wh… who… who are you? I don’t have money to take. And I ain’t afraid to fuck you up!” He said the last part quickly in a cracking voice as he dropped his bowl and cigarettes on the table and put his hands up in fists. It was true though, despite him having a large gut and legs he knew how to fight. More than once in school he got into a scrap with someone that thought just because he was fat he didn’t know how to fight.
The pretty looking man chuckled at him and waved his hands in the air. “Don’t worry, I’m not here to rob you. I just noticed a story unfolding and wanted to see that it got started properly.”
“The fuck are you talking about?” What story did he mean? His Runeblade campaign? He didn’t recognize the man, his face looked… wrong. The eyes were a bit too big, the hair too stiff when he moved like it was a wig with too much product in it. Then he noticed the guy was wearing… something. It was ridiculous to say the least. He had on a bright purple suit jacket, a ruffled white shirt, a gold ascot tied at the side of his neck, a long skirt, sandals, and on top of his head was a top hat like the kind on a cheap magicians wardrobe but stripped with gold, black, and purple lines with white hair beneath it. Was he a bum that raided a cheap costume store?
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Ah, I should explain. I’m a storyteller, and I noticed a diverging path in yours. Normally I don’t interrupt, a story should flow organically without need of outside interference. Don’t you just hate an unwarranted Deus Ex Machina?” He swept his hands in wide arcs as he spoke. Definitely crazy.
Sam was in his apartment, talking to a crazy person. Honestly he would throw the guy out if he wasn’t already feeling down about his supposed friends bailing on him. “You still haven’t said who you are.” He had his hands up still, whoever this was he wasn’t going to put his guard down.
“Good point, call me Bard for now.”
Bard? Like the class? “Okay then, Bard. You gonna get out or do I have to drag you out?”
Bard tilted his head and flashed a smile at Sam. “I’ll go soon, but I had to make sure your story proceeds. It would’ve been a shame for one with your potential to die before the journey even began.”
Die? Yeah fuck this guy I’m not listening anymore. “Okay Bard get the fuck out of my place before I call the cops.” Sam threw out one hand and pointed to the door. “I mean it dude, now!”
“Oh no worries, they'll be here soon. The fire department too.” Bard sweeped a hand off to the side like he was presenting a prize. Sam followed his hand towards the kitchen and saw what he was showing off.
The stove was still on, the burner was just spewing out gas now. “Hey man, what are you doing!? I turned that off, I'm sure of it.”
“You did, but what the fire department will see if that you lit a cigarette with a room full of gas. Anxious about the next day you just needed something to calm you down before bed, then. BOOM!” Bard spoke like a deep voiced child, it was unsettling to say the least. “But… before you freak out. I’m not here to murder you.” He smiled at Sam now. He actually smiled after saying those crazy things?
“Then, what are you doing?” Sam asked, not even sure what he was doing still talking to this utterly strange person.
Bard stood up straight and walked over to him, standing barely a foot away from him. “Open your hand, Sam.”
It took a moment for him to realize he still had his hands in fists. He slowly lowered them and uncurled his fingers. His left hand was empty but in his right sat his lighter. A plain plastic tube. “My light?”
“No, the key to a new life.” Bard reached over and took the lighter, pinching it between his index finger and thumb and held it up in Sam’s face. “You have a choice to make. You can go to bed, wake up, go back to work and hate life. Or… light it up, and come with me.”
Sam stood there, frozen. It was insane. This guy just appeared in his apartment and told him to kill himself. “You’re nuts.”
“No, I’m Bard.” He snickered at that stupid line. “I’m also giving you the chance to tell an amazing story. And maybe make a meal you don’t want to throw in the trash.” He wagged the lighter in his face again.
It was crazy, wasn’t it? This guy was just some psycho and he needed to get him out. “Nah, I’m not listening to you. Let’s go.” He reached over and tried to push Bard away from the kitchen and towards the front odor. His hand missed. At least, there was nothing for him to push. As his hand came closer the body just vanished. He didn’t blink, Bard didn’t dodge or move. He just disappeared.
“Tsk tsk tsk.” Sam heard the voice coming from behind him now. “That was rude Sam.”
He looked over and saw Bard standing by the stove, holding the lighter with his thumb on the flint. Sam’s throat locked his air in, he felt like he was choking, his heart sank and he felt despair fill every bit of him. “What… what are you doing?”
“Just getting the story started.” Bard stuck the flint. Heat. A loud roar. Sam screamed as he felt the fire.
Then he opened his eyes. He saw the flames from his stove frozen like a screenshot in front of him. The world was frozen, small bits of shatter plates hung in the air, cups were falling, his pathetic chili was half turned over and spilling into the air. Sam stood there, looking around. He could move around, that was a good sign. Wasn’t it?
“Sorry for the scare, I don’t get to have as much fun as I used to.” Bard emerged from the flames, passing through them like a mist. He stood before Sam again and smiled.
“What… what… how?”
“I could explain it. But then that would be a spoiler. Now, you still have to choose Sam. Go with me and have a better life, or die?”
“You suck.”
“Only if you make me laugh.”
“What!?” Sam stared at the man.
“You heard me.” Bard snickered and shook his head. “But in all seriousness you will die if you reject my offer. I wanted to be more diplomatic but you just weren’t cooperating.”
He felt oddly calm, staring at… whatever Bard was. In this frozen time he weighed his options, just die or go on whatever fucked up game Bard was playing. “What about my life here? I have a date next weekend.”
“Not worth it, Chelsie is cheating on her boyfriend with you just to piss him off”
“What!?”
“You should stop asking vague questions and make a decision already. Despite the display I can’t actually keep this up forever.” He said as he tilted his head and motioned to the fire.
Sam took in a long breath and looked at the fire, then back to Bard. “What’s gonna happen to me?”
Bard smiled and looked up for a moment. He hummed a strange tune and then put a finger up to his mouth. “I suppose, the best or worst things imaginable.”
Sam nodded once and looked around his apartment. It was no home, just a box big enough to fit his failures inside of. A whole life wasted, twenty-nine years of half-assed effort and wasting time. Now there was someone offering him a chance to go and do something. He had no idea what it was, or if he’d regret it. But it was better than whatever the hell he was doing now. “Alright. I’ll do it.”
The man called Bard smiled and nodded. “Glad you accepted. This would’ve been a huge waste if you decided to just die.”
“So… what now?”
“Now, you come with me. You might want to brace yourself, the trip back is a bit disorienting for first timers.” Bard snapped his fingers and his green eyes turned an inky black. The white of his eyes turned black as well, dark tears spilled out freely, from his mouth more ink came out and filled the floor at his feet.
“WHAT THE SHIT IS GOI-” the ink flowed onto him and consumed him. More came pouring out of Bard’s eyes to encase him. He felt like he was drowning. Even the light and heat of the flames disappeared as the ink overtook him and dragged him into nothingness. He lost his footing at some point and was falling now. There was no way to tell how long he fell in his ink prison. There was only darkness.