I fell…

I was falling, surrounded by darkness. I had no idea what happened or where I was. I tried to scream out in terror, but no sound left my throat. I couldn’t hear anything, not even air moving past my ears. I fell soundlessly through the darkness, terror filling my veins with adrenaline.

I soon became aware of a presence, an otherness I didn’t recognize. It started as an awareness that I was no longer alone. In the distance, a burning red-yellow splash of color appeared in the nothingness before me, a hazy flame dancing through the darkness. It was the only thing I could see. It undulated through the void, moving toward me. It started singing to me that same sad, forlorn song I heard from the stone figure. The flame captivated me, and I became focused on the singing fire.

As the flame slowly, testingly, grew closer, I reached out a hand toward it. To my utter shock, the flame reacted to my presence, sinking indistinct tendrils painlessly into my hand. The flame flowed first around my arm and then swirled around my body. The flame didn’t burn me, if anything, the warmth felt comforting in the endless darkness. I continued to fall, wrapped in this flame. I fell for an unknowable amount of time, the flame singing its song of despair and loneliness to me. I felt that I could hear words in the song but had no idea what they meant. I yearned to comfort the flame, to let it know that it wasn’t alone anymore. We fell entwined together but separated by an unbridgeable distance.

After an unknowable time and without warning, the flame began to attack me, tearing at my skin. Stabbing pain erupted all over my body. The suddenness and brutality of the action shocked me into panicked inaction. I felt the flame rip fingers off my hand, pieces of flesh tore from my face, strips were ripped from my stomach, and muscle gouged out of my thighs. I sensed as the flame began to consume me, to feast upon the torn pieces hungrily. I tried screaming again, but my throat made no sounds of agony.

The immense pain threatened to obliterate my mind, but instinct kicked in, and I knew that I had to stop the flame, had to stop it from tearing me to pieces. I had to find a way to fight back, find a way to stop this flaming horror before it completely devoured my body. With an immense effort of will, I struggled through the pain and focused my mind to determine a coherent course of action. Could I fight back? Could I harm the flame, extinguish it somehow?

I struck out at the flame with my damaged hands, but my remaining fingers passed ineffectually through it. Rage filled me, and I screamed a soundless roar at my impotence to stop the flame. I felt more of myself being torn away and consumed, a ribbon of flesh from my back, my left foot was torn away, and just when I thought the pain couldn’t get worse, the flame started chewing into my stomach. The pain was unbearable, and I lost myself in it, thoughts impossible to form under the torture. When the flame boiled the eyes out of my skull, I lost hope in living.

I continued to fall, consumed in agony, being eaten alive.

Just as I felt myself slipping away, a well of power surged around me, and I felt strange energy circulating around me. Unable to do anything else while I was being consumed, I focused on this energy and felt it flow around my body in a torrent, as if I had suddenly dropped into an ocean of raw power. I didn’t understand why, but the energy started bending to my will, fluidly responding to my thoughts.

Controlling this new power, I channeled my rage and hatred through my body, what little was left of it, intertwining it with the new energy flowing into me, and launched it at the flame with a mental curse. To my surprise, the flame recoiled at the assault, and I felt the pain around my body lessen, the flesh tearing ceasing. Yes! I had it! I had a way to fight back! I didn’t understand anything about where I was, why I was falling into an endless abyss of raw energy, or what that cursed flame was, but I understood that I could at least fight back!

I focused and started concentrating as much energy as I could flowing around my tattered body, trying to keep the flame from consuming any more of it. I focused my entire being on opposing the flame. I launched waves of energy at the flame, trying to destroy it. It recoiled at my assault but the flame was relentless in its desire to destroy and consume. The flame struck back only to be stopped by a surge of energy I created. Attack, counterattack, block, attack, counterattack, block, back and forth we would go. Fighting the flame became my singular purpose for existing. I knew that if I stopped fighting the flame it would consume me entirely and end my suffering, but I refused. I refused to give in to this monstrous flame.

I fell.

I had no sense of time as I fell, nor did I spare a second of thought over the concept of the passage of time, as I fought the flame into a stalemate over my shattered body. I refused to give in to the flame as I poured my rage and hatred into attacks and counterattacks against it, screaming vulgar curses at it. I continued to fall, locked in a perpetual war.

I was slowly losing, though. Despite my efforts, the flame kept eating away at my body, small bites, a chunk of flesh here, a bit of bone there. It was relentless in it’s consumption. I felt every bite and nibble as it slowly started eating my torso. I shouldn’t be alive after losing so much of myself to the flame. The flame bit down on the last piece of clothing I had, my mother's medallion.

As the flame pierced the medallion, I felt a powerful surge of energy and finally heard a sound. It was strange hearing anything after so long in the soundless void. Recognition suddenly dawned on me; it was the sound of a feminine voice.

“EAT SHIT!!!!” the voice roared as I crashed hard onto an unyielding stone floor.

************************************

I slammed into the ground and bounced across the floor, coming to an abrupt halt as I smashed into a stone wall. I was understandably stunned by this collision. I painfully rolled onto my back, my vision spinning uncontrollably. My mind was a swirling tangle of thoughts, the museum, that strange stone figure, endless falling, indescribable pain, and that fucking flame thing. I lay still on the floor in a daze for an unknown amount of time. Eventually, I could control coherent thoughts and started questioning what the hell happened. Was it a nightmare? Some kind of psychotic episode? Was I dosed with some form of hallucinogenic drug?

I decided standing up was out of the question in my current state. I steadied my breathing and tried to bring my mind to full awareness. I lay there with my eyes closed and worked on slowing my breathing for several minutes. I felt like I was waking up halfway through a particularly horrible nightmare after falling asleep with a concussion. My body hurt all over, but at least the all-consuming pain of the flame was gone.

My body! Memories of being shredded apart flashed through my mind making me nauseous. I wiggled my fingers and toes, and I felt them move. I could feel my arms and legs! They hurt like hell, but I was never so happy to feel the aching pain in them in all my life. That endless nightmare of the flame eating my body hadn't been real.

I decided it was time to open his eyes. Upon opening them, a strange sight greeted me. I was lying in a small, poorly lit room. Dark stone walls surrounded me, along with a stone ceiling above. There was a diffuse dim red light in the ceiling at the center of the room. My vision felt strange, like I could see more of the room than I should be able to. It was sort of like looking through a fisheye lens, and I felt like I could see more at the periphery of my vision. I could see the entire room while staring at the ceiling, which was strange as hell. The site made my nausea return and I wondered if it was a side effect of a concussion from hitting the floor as hard as I did.

I closed my eyes and took deep breaths through my nose until the nausea lessened. I realized that I was smelling damp stone and mildew. A growing chill came over me as the floor rapidly stole my body heat. Unless I got launched into the basement by the explosion, this definitely wasn’t the museum.

And it wasn’t my room or a hospital room either. Where the hell was I? The strangeness of my situation started to crash down on me and I could feel panic growing. It started as a burning pressure in the center of my chest and almost doubled me over in pain. I closed my eyes and started doing the deep breathing exercises my father taught me.

Breathe in… hold for two seconds… breathe out… hold for two seconds…

After about a minute of cyclical breathing, I felt the pressure in my chest ease and I decided it was time to get up off the floor. I really needed to figure out where I was and what was going on. I opened my eyes and the strange fish lens vision returned. I focused on a single point on the wall in front of me and shakily rose to my feet. I had to steady myself on the stone wall. I felt an immediate wrongness with my body.

I looked toward my hand and saw it wasn’t mine. The fingers were too slender, the skin was pale, ghostly white, and I could see hints of red orange-hued lines tracing throughout the hand and arm. I jerked backward in surprise that I wasn’t alone in this room. To my confusion, the hand jerked back with me as it turned out it was attached to me. I held the hand up to my face. I felt and saw the hand close into a fist and open back up as I flexed the thin fingers. That was very much my hand.

I immediately looked down at myself and observed two very shocking things, things that made my brain seize up. Except for my mother’s gold medallion still hanging around my neck, I saw that I was nude. Being nude in and of itself wouldn’t be that shocking. I am a decent-looking young college-aged guy and I occasionally wake up nude in a strange bedroom, usually after Ró had worked her wingmate magic on some female co-ed for me the previous evening. It was the second, impossible thing… things… that had shocked me so thoroughly that it tripped circuit breakers in my brain into speechlessness… I had breasts.

My brain turned back on and my eyes widened in horror. In a reflexive panic, my hands shot up to my chest and I grabbed at the foreign protrusions of flesh. When my hands made contact with the skin, I felt… them.

“What the fuck!” I rasped out in a slightly feminine voice.

Due to the combined horror of what I had just seen and heard, I collapsed down into a crouching position, back pressed against the cold wall. I started hyperventilating. The panic attack I managed to suppress earlier thundered forth like a stampeding bull. My chest felt like someone was standing on it, and my heart was pounding in a rapid, irregular rhythm. My hands and feet began experiencing a painful tingling as if small insects were walking all over them. I lost focus and the entirety of my extended sight flooded into my mind, worsening the panic. Sweat started pouring down my face and dripped onto my chest, a chest with two impossible fleshy protrusions.

“What the fuuuuuuck…..” I whispered out in that same feminine voice.

I grabbed my head, cradling it in both hands. A wet, grimy lock of silver-white hair shifted into my now extended field of view. Unbelieving at what was literally in front of my face, I reached out one of my new strange hands to touch it. I felt the smooth silky hair flow through my fingers. I yanked on the hair and felt the corresponding stab of pain in my scalp that anyone that’s ever had their hair yanked on would recognize. My hand shot back to my head, I was now intent on staring at the floor until the panic attack or this nightmare was over.

That’s when I received the biggest shock of my life. My… member… my privates, my genitalia, the exterior bits and pieces I was born with and lived with my entire life, were now gone. In their place was a mound of short curly silver-white hair.

“fuckfuckfuckfuck, FUCK, FUCK!, FUCK!!, FUCK!!!, FUUUCK!!!, FUCKING SHIT FUCK!!” I screamed.

I didn’t reach down to confirm what I was seeing as my panic attack intensified to a level that I had never experienced before. My heart was beating so fast and I was breathing so rapidly that my vision narrowed into a tunnel and room-spinning vertigo overcame me. Just as I was on the verge of passing out, a new sensation overtook me.

It was like my chest cracked open and my heart exploded, releasing an army of insect-like particles that crawled uncontrollably throughout my body. Every particle felt like encapsulated energy, breaking open at random points and filling my body and limbs with frenzied power. I fell to the floor, the overpowering sensation throwing me into a fit of convulsions.

“Sués bó chóirea duit a fhéil!” a female voice screamed, the sudden and unintelligible words snapping my mind into focus. Despite the vortex of energy surging through my body, I was able to regain control of my flailing limbs.

“What? Who was that!?” I looked around wildly. The motion, combined with my fish-eye vision, started me dry-heaving spittle onto the floor. I failed to see anyone in the small room.

“I’m dreaming, I have to be dreaming!” I shifted into a seated position, the course stone scraping against my naked flesh. I reached down and pinched hard on the skin on my thigh. I received only intense pain for my efforts and not a release from this psychotic nightmare.

“Sués bó chóirea duit a fhéil tó amádén dórr!!” yelled the woman’s voice again.

“Who the fuck was that! Who’s there!?” I screamed into the dark, wildly looking around the room, and again failing to see anyone. That’s when I saw the door. It was dark, blackened wood, fitted firmly into a plain door frame. There was no handle or visible means to open the door. The claustrophobic feeling in the room became overpowering.

“Ok, fuck this bullshit nightmare!” I spat into the darkness. I decided that I’d had enough of disembodied voices and this dank room.

I was spurred into action by my growing claustrophobic panic and the chaotic energy flooding my body. I dashed for the door. I intended to push on it to see if it would open but the surging energy in my legs caused me to move at a speed that I wasn’t ready for. I lost my footing and crashed into the door, smashing it into splinters.

I landed on my outstretched hands and banged my knees on more damp stone flooring. I scrambled up off the floor, barely stopping to glance at the fragmented door. I picked a random direction and started running, my bare feet slapping on the floor. The narrow hallway was made of the same dark stone as the room I woke up in. Strange symbols were painted in red and white on the doors I ran past but I had no idea what they meant as they weren't in a language I had ever seen.

I saw more ancient, symbol-labeled doors as I ran but I didn’t even consider trying the doors to see if I could open them. My new singular goal was now getting outside. I couldn’t shake the ominous feeling that I was in a dungeon. This feeling was more fuel for my storming panic attack, amplified to an impossible degree by the strange energy particles that had burst from my chest. I was in full, animalistic fight or flight mode and I chose flight. I was going to outrun this nightmare.

My body felt weird running; I could tell my legs and hips had been significantly altered and it was affecting my running form. The feeling of the lumps of flesh on my chest bouncing around as I ran was unpleasantly distracting, a constant reminder that this wasn’t my body, as impossible as that was.

I quickly came to a T intersection and tried to come to a full stop, only to skid across the floor and crash into the wall. I bounced off hard but remained upright on my feet. I quickly checked both directions, seeing nothing but an empty hallway in both directions and no one in sight. I picked left for no good reason and ran. I was like a terrified animal in a maze.

“ÁG DÚL CA BEÁHFÚIL TÚ?” came the female voice, sounding like an angry question.

“Oh, fuck I’m going insane!” I bellowed as I ran. I continued questioning my reality and sanity as I sprinted through the dim hallways.

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“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” I yelled while pounding my head with a fist.

I ran through another empty hallway without seeing anyone, running past more doors with the strange red and white symbols on them. I came up to an L-shaped intersection and managed to skid to a stop before crashing into the stone wall. I decided to look around the corner this time. I was having a difficult time controlling this body, my heart was thundering and my arms and legs trembled. The flowing uncontrolled energy felt like bugs crawling under my skin, and it made me want to scream and vomit at the same time.

I peered around the corner, trying hard to control my limbs. The hallway opened into a large rectangular room with a raised ceiling. Faceted crystals set into the ceiling gave off a diffuse yellow-white illumination, casting random shadows around the room. There were what appeared to be separate cells inset into the long walls down each side of the room. Narrowly spaced rough black metal bars formed the entrances into the cells. This allowed for sight into the cells, but the lack of lighting made seeing what was inside difficult.

I looked over the cell nearest to me and saw four small, evenly-spaced purple reflections. It took me a second, but I eventually recognized it as an animal's eyeshine. All four reflections slowly blinked at the same time and then moved away in unison. A low dangerous hiss echoed as a massive indistinct shape moved about in the cell, a large green leathery section of what I guessed was a torso pressed into the cell door.

“Whaaaaaat the fuck is that?” I whispered, my hand instinctively reaching up to cover my mouth. I tore my eyes away from the cell and spotted an exit on the opposite side of the room. I was about to resume my mad dash through the building when two people conversing walked into the room from the direction of my planned exit.

I started to move towards the people, overjoyed at seeing somebody else to talk to in this crazed nightmare. My initial excitement was immediately dashed when I saw that the two forms were indeed people, but were undeniably not humans. I froze and took in their appearance.

The two beings were over 180 centimeters tall and had slender builds. They wore long black dresses with black pants and black boots. I think that dress garment was called a tunic. Red patches with intricate but matching designs adorned both shoulders. Each had what appeared to be a leather utility vest with straps and pockets, and each carried long knives, or possibly short swords, that hung from rust-colored belts. What caught my attention to the fact that they weren’t human were their faces. Each person had a triangular-shaped face with prominent high cheekbones, and eyes that were set just a little too far apart. They could have passed for unusual, yet still strangely beautiful, human faces except for the long, swept-back, pointed ears that extend up to the top of their heads. Their faces were covered with intricate but visually distinct black marks resembling tattoos. I couldn’t tell, but they looked male as both appeared to have masculine facial features, and neither had hints of breasts. That thought made me reflexively look down at my own altered nude body, the sight making me queasy.

“Of course, there are dark fucking elves in my psychotic break…” I whispered to myself. I wasn’t a huge fan of anything fantasy or magic-related. My ex-girlfriend back in America, Jennifer, had tried to share her enjoyment of the genre by asking me to read the Lord of the Rings. I hadn’t made it through the first three chapters before I gave up. I told her I found the idea of solving every problem by waving magic wands and throwing fireball spells boring. I much preferred reading hard science fiction about space battles and brave mech-suited warriors fighting with future tech, problems being properly solved by waving tricorders and firing plasma bolts at them.

I had been walking into the room at the sight of the people, intending to ask them where I was and what the hell was happening, but ducked down after my initial freeze as I registered that they weren’t humans. I crouched down behind a nearby table with dusty wooden boxes under it. I tried to hold my breath and control my trembling appendages. I watched the two inhuman beings with one eye peeking out from around the table legs, the low diffuse illumination helping conceal my presence.

“Béithégh thábhóirt anséo puca anois ém.” I heard one say to the other as he pointed at a wall cage. The other figure approached the designated cage and produced keys from his vest. He opened the cage and roughly pulled out two half-human-sized creatures, each hand grasping metal collars around the creature’s necks. He tossed them into the center of the room, each creature making a cry of pain upon hitting the floor, followed by weak mewling noises.

I stared blankly at the creatures. These things weren’t even remotely human. They were about a meter tall and appeared to have four limbs; two of which appeared to be legs, and the other two arms, though the “hands” of the creatures could still have been paws. The creatures were covered entirely with dirty white fur except for their faces. The creature’s facial skin was a reddish bronze with two overly large jet-black ovals for eyes, small pointed noses with slits in place of nostrils, and two oddly long rabbit-like ears that stood straight up on their heads. What I assumed were mouths were covered with leather muzzles.

The first person, elf, I wasn’t sure what to call them, savagely kicked one of the creatures hard in the abdomen, sending it rolling several meters across the floor where it hit the stone wall with another muffled cry. The second creature reached out a pawed hand toward the first one, articulated digits uncurling to reach out, muffled screaming coming from its muzzle. The second elf person stomped firmly on the creature’s outstretched arm, holding it in place.

The first elf person grasped the metal collar of the crying creature and pulled it from the floor, its body limp. He struck it in the face with a closed fist, purple liquid splattering on the floor from a new cut on the creature’s cheek. “Céangóil énam lióm ánéis!”

The creature furrowed its brow and hissed at the elf in unmistakable defiance. The person, I’m just going to call them elves, let go of the metal collar, the creature dropping hard onto the floor. The elf started kicking the creature, smashing it against the wall repeatedly. The second creature, held in place, continued to cry and scream at the savage beating its companion was taking.

I couldn’t move. The utter cruelty of what I was witnessing was apparent and it only added to my mental paralysis. It was too much; everything that had happened to me was too much. Falling through the soundless nothing, my fight with that fucking flame thing, waking up in this strange place, my unexplainable body transformation, and now I was watching evil elves torture a thinking, feeling creature. It was too much for me. I was on the verge of a mental shutdown, and I had to fight against the desire to curl into a fetal position on the floor and mentally shut down.

The elf reached down and pulled the creature up by its collar, purple fluid flowing out around the muzzle. “Céangóil énam lióm ánéis, né gháobhaidh táu beés” said the elf with a calm finality in his deep voice.

The creature turned its head toward the elf and attempted to hiss but only a wet gurgling sound came out, purple blood flowing freely out from around the muzzle. The elf let go of the collar, and the creature hit the floor, unmoving. The elf stomped down on the creature’s head with a fast-violent motion. There was a sickening crunch and splatter sound as the head collapsed and flattened. The body twitched once and stopped, never to move again.

The second creature released a long anguished yowl. It tried to wrench itself free and crawl over to its companion. It jerked to an abrupt stop, the second elf had taken its foot off the creature's arm but stomped the other foot down, trapping its leg as it struggled. The creature wailed and reached out its arms towards its fellow, fingers reaching, straining against its entrapment. The second elf grunted and roughly pushed the creature back to the floor with his other foot, placing it on its neck. The wail turned to heart-wrenching sobbing as the creature struggled to get free.

The first elf turned away from the little broken body and looked at the second creature with a predatory look. “Céangóil énam lióm ánéis” he said calmly.

It was the anguished sobbing that broke me from my trance. It was the sound of inconsolable sadness, of utter loss and despair. The sound burned into me, reminding me of everyone I had lost and how I felt when they left me. Only a creature capable of love could experience that kind of loss. And I had stood by, doing nothing while their loved one was being savagely butchered.

Unthinking, with tears streaming down my face, I stood up and moved to confront the first elf. I had no idea, no grand plan, no real notion of how to fight these elves, I was moving purely on rage, sorrow at the creature’s death, and disgusted loathing for my inaction. I was naked and unarmed, but that didn’t matter in the moment; I was going to stop this atrocity.

A strange urge came to me, deep from within myself, and I took a deep breath. I dashed up to the first elf, planting my feet, fists balled tightly at my sides. The elf halted abruptly, utter astonishment evident on his tattooed face at seeing me suddenly appearing before him.

I felt the chaotic swirling energy in my body fill my lungs, but I was unconcerned, uncaring as to why. Pure instinct and emotion were driving my actions now, and I gave in to my bizarre urge.

I screamed. I screamed a wordless wail of shrill violence at the first elf. The scream hit the elf as if it were a physical force, and it… liquified the elf.

As I screamed, the elf’s face tore away from the skull in several bloody flaps, ears crumbling, eyes popping with boiling fluid, scalp peeling off, all splattering against the wall behind the disintegrating elf. The black tunic and pants were immediately shredded into bloody fragments as the skin under them started tearing apart. The strips of clothing and flesh peeled off, flying backward. Within a half second, the elf was flayed of his skin, and the muscles of his limbs and torso had started ripping apart. The force of the scream finally launched the rapidly dissecting body of the elf into the wall, the sound of splattering flesh and breaking bones unheard under the onslaught of the scream.

The elf was dead, but I continued my scream as I unleashed my pent-up rage and anguish, the catharsis of the release bringing a strange measure of focus despite the situation. Bones crumbled, internal organs pulped, and numerous cracks appeared in the stone wall. As my scream ended, I briefly stood dumbstruck at what I had done. The elf was little more than sludge sliding down the wall to form a puddle of thick goo on the floor. My short reverie was broken when searing pain erupted in my throat. I grabbed my throat with both hands as if I were choking and collapsed down onto my knees in agony. I started coughing up droplets of dark orange fluid and struggling to breathe.

“Bensíde!”

The strange word caught my attention, remembering the other elf person in the room. I turned to see the second elf, pale-faced, pointing at me.

“Bensíde!” the elf screamed as he drew the sword knife thing from his belt holster. He gripped it in a reverse grasp, knife sword tip pointed at the floor, and charged at me.

“Ah, shit…” I rasped aloud.

Still struggling to breathe, I responded to the murderous charge by instinctively raising my arms in a defensive stance over my face, attempting to block the knife strike.

The elf inexpertly stabbed down, the knife burying itself into my left forearm and passing between my arm bones to penetrate out through to the other side. Dark orange fluid stained the knife blade. I jerked my arm back, unintentionally twisting my wrist into an angle sufficient to painfully trap my attacker’s blade in place between the bones of my forearm. The elf held onto his knife and was yanked forward; he was almost nose-to-nose with me. Fiery pain shot up my arm as the knife cut deeper along the length of my arm but I ignored it. I was now in a fight for my life. On instinct, I balled up my right fist and swung a wild haymaker punch at the elf’s face, the elf’s proximity guaranteeing that I would connect. I barely noticed the eddies of energy in my body, concentrating in my right arm.

My fist connected with the elf’s face as I had hoped… and then continued to pass right through into the skull and out the back, practically decapitating the elf. The headless body fell backward from the residual force of the punch, orange arterial blood raining from the gaping hole above the neck, a good quantity spraying onto me. I raised my gore-covered fist up to my face, and I again stared unbelievingly at the results of my violent actions for a second time in less than a minute. I felt that the swirling eddies of energy in my body had decreased in their frenetic intensity. All I could think was, what in the actual fuck was happening to me?

My paralysis was short-lived as the burning pain in my throat caused me to start coughing violently. I dropped to my knees and coughed up more droplets of dark orange fluid, what I guessed was my blood now.

I wheezed in breaths between coughing fits. I looked around and spotted the second creature. It had crawled over to the body of its companion, its head and hands placed on the unmoving torso as it cried it's haunted sounds of grief.

I looked down at the knife embedded in my arm and decided to leave it. My Army-trained combat veteran father had taught me it was best to leave impaling objects in place until I could seek medical attention. Cradling my left arm, I struggled over to the creature.

“Hey… Buddy… We probably should go…” I slowly rasped out, the feminine voice sounding like a stranger. The wheezing in my breathing audibly increased in intensity. I partially collapsed into a kneeling position by the creature and placed a hand on its little shoulder. I felt the sobbing and crying it was making. The creature didn’t react to my touch; it was utterly lost in its grief. I noticed a clasp on the back of the muzzle and reached for it with my good hand. Working slowly I released the straps, orange elf blood smearing onto the dirty white fur. The muzzle fell away from the creature’s face, causing them to turn and finally take notice of me. Numerous sharply pointed fangs protruded from the creature’s unnaturally wide mouth, not unlike a shark’s toothy grin.

I recoiled in panic, immediately scared that I had made a huge mistake in freeing the creature from the restraint. The abrupt motion sent me into another coughing fit, and a sizable amount of dark orange liquid poured from my mouth. I again grasped at my throat with my good hand; breathing had become impossible. I collapsed onto my back, tried inhaling through my mouth, and found that I couldn’t. I could no longer draw in air into my lungs; thick dark orange liquid pooled in my mouth and splattered from my lips.

The little creature shuffled over to me and stared into my eyes with its solid black orbs. It regarded me with an unreadable expression. I felt lightheaded, my vision narrowing into a tunnel. I looked at the creature, panic growing as I slowly suffocated.

Disjointed thoughts were flying through my oxygen-starved mind. Am I dying? Is any of this real? Why do I have tits now? Is that thing going to eat me before I die? I miss my dad. Is that thing going to eat me after I die? I wonder where my mom went… My vision was a small narrowed tunnel. Through that tunnel, I saw the creature raise their paw hand up to him; clawed, spindly fingers splayed out.

“A lám tóagmhéil...” whispered a female voice in my mind. Without understanding why, I reached out my good hand and touched my fingers to the creature’s, five fingers meeting six. I felt a bolt of electric energy course through my hand that surged into my chest just as everything went black.

***********************************************

The young woman sat hunched over her desk, slowly flipping through a binder filled with printed documents. Each document was in a transparent sleeve, labeled with a letter and number designation. It appeared to be a collection of official government documents, investigation reports, witness statements, and interrogation transcripts, most with Garda Síochána labeled on the letterhead, but more than a few documents had United States Department of State or United States Federal Bureau of Investigation stenciled across the top. She occasionally referenced a file on her laptop and scribbled words onto a notepad.

Does he know or just suspect?

She was dressed in a stylish emerald green silk blouse that tastefully emphasized her modestly sized breasts with a hint of cleavage without appearing trashy. She paired this with skin-tight pants with built-in posterior support, not that she really needed the help. She finished off the outfit with cute but somewhat sensible black heels. The pair gave her 8 centimeters of height, making her legs appear longer while still allowing her to walk on uneven streets and sidewalks. She had spent over an hour trying different clothing combinations, intending to find the perfect outfit with just the right combination of seductive and modern elegance. Plus, the outfit made her ass look amazing, which was important for tonight as she had caught him checking it out more than once in class.

Did he see anything? Would a child that young understand?

She continued to study her computer screen and scratch notes on her pad. Throughout this process, she occasionally picked up her phone and looked at it, growing more frustrated as the minutes ticked by. Eventually, the woman picked up her phone and swiped it open. The time read 6:50 pm. She opened the messenger app, not really expecting to see a message appear after her phone failed to give a new message notification. The same messages were there 30 minutes ago, several from her mother that she still hadn’t read and a few from friends from secondary school. The woman tossed her phone back onto the desk and sighed, frustrated, muttering something like “cheeky bastard”. She continued to write notes.

The body? Where did it go?

The woman stood up from her desk and moved over to a wall poster covered with handwritten notes. The poster was an aerial view map looking down on stone buildings next to a graveyard. Different symbols denoted specific points of interest, some with times written next to them. What the symbols meant were a mystery; their meaning was only evident to the woman. She drew a path around the map in pencil, measured the distance, and then did some calculations on her phone. She huffed at the results and erased them, only repeating the process several more times. Each attempt ended in failure as she erased the paths with growing frustration. She finally stopped when, in her increasing anger, she tore a section of the map by applying the eraser with too much force. She again looked at her message app; the time read 7:25 pm and there were no new messages.

“Shit, where the hell is he?!” she swore aloud. She stomped over to her dresser, scooped up her clutch purse, and tossed her phone in it. She closed the binder on her desk with a slam. She walked out of her single occupancy room and exited the residence hall into the crisp night. The binder sat on her desk, the text ‘Nicole Evans-Ryan 1975 - 2009’ printed neatly on the cover.

She made her way across campus to Goldsmith Hall. During the walk, she debated cover stories to tell Rian or his flatmates how she knew his room number. Since admitting to months of observation was out of the question, she figured she’d make up some lie about asking some unnamed person walking the hallways what the room number was. That shouldn’t raise any suspicion and it was something she should probably do anyway to maintain the lie. It was also very likely to work as most people, guys especially, would give her just about any information if she asked nicely.

She entered the building and made her way towards Rian’s room. She stopped a guy in the hallway and asked where Rian Ryan’s room was. The guy smiled at her after giving her a once over with his eyes and pointed down the hallway and called out a number. He had been one room number off but at least gestured in the correct direction of the room. The guy looked like he was about to start trying to chat her up, but after a quick thanks, she pivoted on her heel and took off toward her destination. She chuckled at what she was sure the guy was muttering, “Some shits get all the luck.”

She walked up to the door, ready to knock, when it was thrown open. A beast of a woman stepped into the hallway. She was momentarily shocked at the woman’s abrupt appearance. The woman was a tall, pretty redhead with a muscular build. The woman towered over her.

“Oh, hi, are you Róisín?” she asked, knowing exactly who this woman was. She had never seen Róisín up close before, only from afar during her somewhat frequent observations of Rian. She wasn’t ready for the intimidating presence Róisín emanated. She was dressed in going out clothes, skin tight black pants and a royal purple blouse that was form-fitting enough to show off her well-toned physique while minimizing visible skin.

Róisín looked over the woman and started smiling with an almost predatory expression that she had usually only seen on men. “Ya, thats me. Who might you be beautiful?”

Slightly flustered at the comment, the woman was eventually able to stammer out “I’m Cara. I’m looking for Rian. We were supposed to go out tonight but he never messaged me. Have you seen him?”

“Actually, no,” said Róisín, crinkling her brow in mild worry. “That little tosser hasn’t been back to his room since yesterday morning and the shites not been responding to my messages.”

Cara was a bit taken back by Róisín’s casual vulgarity but recovered quickly. “Well, if you see him can you please tell him I stopped by.”

“The next time I see that little shite I’m gonna be busy putting my boot up his arse for disappearing and ignoring my texts, but I’ll try to remember.” said Róisín, she seemed to be equal parts annoyed and concerned over Rian’s absence.

“Um… right then. I guess I’ll be off…” Cara was unsure how to end this awkward conversation.

Róisín again looked Cara over, and the predatory grin reappeared. “Looks like you got all fancied up for a night out. No reason to waste a good outfit and makeup just because that dope Rian isn’t around.”

Róisín placed an arm around Cara’s shoulders and started leading her to the exit.

“Uh… what’s happening?” Cara asked, unsure of how her evening was being so thoroughly derailed.

“You and me are gonna go out for a wee little girl's night, and you are going to tell me all about your interest in my mate Rian,” Róisín said as she hugged Cara closer to her side. Cara swallowed hard and nodded her head, starting to understand Rian’s involuntary Friday morning hangover…