Beep. Beep. Beep.
Ah.
Morning.
My room. Gray walls. Light leaking in from the crevice between the curtain and the bottom of the window. Pale light. You know what that means - another cloudy day.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I suppose I should get up. Or at least turn that thing off.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
Alright.
I roll over and tap the button on the clock. Its buzzing gone, the quieter soundscape of the outside reaches my brain. Winds. Distant traffic. Birdsong. Nothing new there.
I draw my hand back to myself and tuck it near my chest. It’s cold out there. Again.
I sigh and stare at the digits of the alarm. 8:00. The prime time to rise and shine. To get out of bed, do your morning chores and then set off for school to learn about all the wonders of the world. Or for work, to earn the bread to eat, to give a share to the government for all the nice services they provide.
But I don’t do either. I can’t do either. Because to do those human things, you'd have to be human.
Instead, I spend my days at home, trying my best to pass the time. Exercising. Watching TV. Doing crosswords. Going on walks. Reading books I’ve read dozens of times before. Cooking. Cleaning. Or just staring blankly at the ceiling. That is how I, time and time again, drag myself through the hours and reach the prize at the end - sleep. That well-deserved escape from reality. Not that I remember any dreams, save for the occasional nightmare. I just like the idea of being able to skip eight hours of further boredom.
But, well… it's alright, actually, all of this. Because it's all temporary. Everything will change once HE is ready, and that time will be soon. The ascension is right behind the corner. HIS taking me over proves that. HE just needs to… wait a little longer, to gather HIS strength. I just need to wait a little longer.
Of course, I’ve been telling myself that for a few weeks now…
Steps downstairs. Sounds like Abe. I guess I should get up too.
Or should I? There's nothing to do, remember?
No, that's not true. Daily exercise is required to keep this body in proper shape. To skip that would be betraying HIM. You don't want to do that, do you?
I get up without delay. Gods, it's cold without the blanket… more reason to get through the routine sooner, I suppose. I'll get to put on some proper clothes.
With a sigh, I leave my room behind.
----------------------------------------
I stare at the towel I've just hung on the drying rack. Strands of damp black hair dangle before my eyes, ever so slightly trembling.
The last part of my morning routine has finished, and now I've entered the wasteland once again.
Should I even go upstairs? Should I challenge myself to spend all day in the basement instead? Could be fun, in some kind of way. I could use that time to work more on that Helixian textbook. Even if I know it's completely useless, as I can't show it to anyone pre-ascension, and post-ascension I'd be able to just will the information into the brains of anyone I wanted…
Maybe I should pay HIM a visit instead.
No! No, I shouldn't. I shouldn't interrupt HIM - HE must be hard at work, making preparations and gathering strength. And if I saw HIM, HE might ask for another offering, and I wouldn't be able to say no even if it's only been a few weeks and I should wait longer to let the trail cool down… and lastly, I don't want to come to HIM while I still don't have that… one thing under control.
Right. It reminds me that I do still need to go upstairs to deal with something related to it. I guess my morning routine isn’t yet completed.
I climb the stairs back up to the ground floor and enter the kitchen. No sign of it yet, as I’ve come to expect. But it will come soon.
I open the cupboard and take out a can of cat food. I grab the tab and open it.
I can feel my heartbeat quicken as I count the seconds.
“Mrrow!”
And there it is.
I turn around to face him -- it. It stares back with big blue expectant eyes. It holds its snow-white tail upright in the shape of a question mark. The sight of it brings a warmth to my heart. But it shouldn’t. It fucking shouldn’t.
I slip a mental hand inside my ribcage and squeeze my heart. No feeling. No feeling of joy or affection or anything of the sort. You’re not allowed to see him -- it in that light anymore. As far as you’re concerned, it is just an animal. A pile of flesh and organs and white fur.
Clenching my jaw, I take a fork from the drawer and bring it and the can to the animal’s food bowl. It waits patiently as I scoop out the food and only rushes in once I’ve backed away. It scarfs it down happily as I place the fork in the sink and the can in the garbage.
I sigh. Seventeen more hours of this left.
Soft thumps come from upstairs. Abe’s up. It’s not long before the shaggy-haired, olive-skinned boy comes down the stairs.
“Morning,” he says.
“Mm,” I respond.
He walks over to the animal and strokes its back. “Morning, Mints.” He gets back up and steps up to the kitchen counter. I move out of the way, taking a seat at the kitchen table.
Suddenly, Abe flinches and turns to me. What?
“Oh, gosh, I forgot to remind you yesterday,” he says.
Remind…?
“Today’s your psych appointment.”
…Oh.
“Remember?” he continues. “The one we reserved two weeks --”
“Yeah, I remember.”
“I’m gonna come pick you up with a taxi at ten to three. Be at home and ready then, okay?”
Well… I’m not head over heels about getting my sanity questioned by some quack, but agreeing to see a shrink was clearly the only way to get Abe to shut up about it. Not to mention, giving a good performance will get me listed in the system as a completely normal and non-dangerous human being. And, of course, anything out of the ordinary is exciting by now, so goddamn it, sign me the fuck up.
“Yeah, I’ll be here,” I say.
Abe’s eyes adopt a rare sternness. “Do you promise? You have to go.”
“Yes, yes, I’ll go.” Gods, it’s like he’s calling me a ticking time bomb to my face. I guess that at least means he’s grown some guts.
“Good,” he says, like a parent, despite his young age of fifteen and lack of actual blood relation to me. “Oh, by the way, can you get some groceries if you’re not doing anything else by then?”
Two things to do today? Oh boy, I’m being spoiled. “Sure.”
“Good.” He turns back to the counter and starts to prepare his breakfast, which is a sandwich, as it always is. I direct my attention to the half-finished crossword on the table and tune out whatever he’s doing. It’s only once he’s leaving that I look back up, and that’s just because he called my name.
“Yeah?” I ask.
“Remember the appointment, okay?”
“Yeah.”
He frowns slightly. “When did I tell you to be here?”
“Ten to three.”
He nods, satisfied with my response. “Good. That’s correct.” He picks up his backpack and hoists it onto his back. “Alright. See you then.”
“Yeah, see you.”
“And don’t forget to go to the store as well,” he adds.
It’s already slipped my mind. “I won’t.”
“Alright. See you,” he repeats. I don’t repeat my goodbye. He exits, and the house falls silent.
Sighing, I get up. Might as well take that grocery trip right away.
I gather everything I need - grocery list off the microwave, my old backpack from its corner in the living room, house keys from the hall and my trusty knife from my room upstairs. Well, I guess I don’t need the knife, this town being the idyllic little paradise it is, but it’s the only part of my true self I can actually show in public. The airholes in my sheepskin disguise.
And with that, I leave the house. Welcoming me to the outside is a cold, gray sky. Right.
I forgot this was just another day.
What a waste of the late spring season. These days should have warm sunshine while the air is still cool and dry. Nature should be shaking its grogginess from March and April, fully awakening to blossom and celebrating life. But here I walk under a sheet of hazy clouds too thin to bring rain, but too thick to let the warmth of the sun through. What a disgrace.
A gust of cold wind dives down my collar. Shuddering, I zip my hoodie the rest of the way up. It seems this weather hates me back as well.
Under its mocking gaze, I march on. Past the high school, library, hospital, graveyard, each at a glacial pace… until finally, I see a familiar yellow peek over the roadside pines - the supermarket’s sign. A little way more, and there’s the parking lot, not much longer now…
Hey, something’s different. In the window by the doors, there’s a wooden slip hanging from a hook on a suction cup on the inside. A talisman. Well, that makes sense. The news did say that spectral activity was on the rise, and I can think of a few reasons why ghosts wouldn’t be welcome at a store. Should I get one for my house, too…? Nah. We’ll be fine.
I make it to the automatic doors and slip through. Finally, some warmth. Color, even, though unnatural. Hundreds of cans, cartons, boxes and other packages nest in the shelves across the gates and checkouts. Like birds of artificial feather, the products proudly present their plumages in hopes of enticing buyers. If they could squawk as well, it’d be a cacophony.
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Not that it’s very far from one as is. Dozens of voices, beeps, shuffles and taps echo around the spacious hall to assault any lovers of solitude. It reminds the listener that yes, humans really are just ants scaled up, just as busy and erratic and unable to think for themselves...
Let’s get this over with. I walk through the gates, grab a basket and begin to hunt down the items of the grocery list. By now I know where to find them all, but the sections I don’t visit are still a mystery to me. They can remain as such. I don’t really care.
With each addition, the basket becomes heavier, until there’s only one item left. Cat food. Thinking back, I did take the second to last can today.
I arrive at the aisle for pet supplies and head for the cans, but… they’re out. OUT OF STOCK, reads a note hanging from the shelf. Yeah, no kidding. I guess that means I’ll have to get another brand for the time being. That’s fine, we’ve tried some of these other brands before…
Let’s see what we have here. There’s Meow Chow. That’s crap. Minty wouldn’t touch it. On the other hand, Minty loved Pourrmet Meal. He was on it before our current pick, but the vet said it was too fatty for him. But that was a while ago. He’s lost weight since. He’ll do fine on this until the regular brand comes back in stock. He’ll love it, in fact. I can already see his eyes widen and tail quiver before he lunges for his favorite --
Wait. Oh Gods. No. It. Its. I can’t think about him -- it like that. It is just an animal. I can not care about it. I will not care about it.
And with that in mind, I should not get what it would want. I should get what’s cheapest. And that’s Meow Chow.
But he won’t eat it. It won’t eat it. Not unless it refuses until it is starving. But that’s still eventual eating, right? That means it’ll do. It’ll feed it. Abe can’t complain. His dad can’t complain. My mom hasn’t stepped foot inside the house in months. It’s perfect, really, so what’s the goddamn problem? Just take the fucking cans and head for the checkouts.
But imagine it. Imagine him starving, meowing his throat sore from the hunger pains, think about how he --
It. It. It!
How many times does it need to be repeated? When will you get it through your skull?
The Bringer cannot love.
Shut up! I’ve had enough of this. I don’t want to waste time thinking about anything related to that thing anymore. I’ll take a third, new brand. It costs more, but fuck it. It’s only money. I shove a bunch of cans into the basket and head for the checkouts.
Goddamn it, it seems all the lines are just as long. I guess I’ll just pick the closest. Though now I see that the tired, graying woman in front of me seems to have a full cart. Great.
At a snail’s pace, the line slouches onward. Products get dumped on the conveyor belt, picked up by the cashier, read for their bar codes, the reader beeps, the cashier places the item on the other side, then she grabs the next, so on, yawn…
A wailing noise pierces the air. What? What is that, a siren? No - it’s a baby, a few checkouts over. And it is loud. Gods, my ears…!
I glance at the other people around me. They, too, wince every time the screaming surges in volume. But nothing more. They just stand and take it. And it just keeps going! I really can’t stress enough how horrible this is. This screech could put a wailer to shame!
Isn’t the mother doing anything? No, she isn’t. How can she bear this? If this was my kid, I’d have chucked it out the window a long time ago.
No, it’s okay. My turn is coming up. I can already start placing my items onto the conveyor. Look, look, there they go. Maybe I have to wait a few seconds every now and then so that more space clears up, but I’m advancing. Time is passing. And now the woman in front of me is already paying. She leaves to pack, it’s my turn. See, everything’s okay. All I have to do now is to wait for my items to scroll past…
But how could I?
How could I let this go?
These people… they so clearly want that screaming to stop, and yet they refuse to act. Why? Because they’re worried they’ll make a scene. Be part of the scene already happening. Get disapproving glances thrown their way. Stick out from the group. Show some kind of individuality, free thought, free action! It’s terrifying to them to look bad for just a moment!
What worthlessness! What thanklessness towards their ancestors! The ones that built their own shelters, hunted their own food, made their own rules, all for these meek sheep to take it for granted and worry about the utterly pointless instead! Humans used to struggle for survival, and now these overgrown infants take it on a silver platter. They’re domesticated. Inbred by good times to be harmless, lazy and stupid!
They should be taught to fear again. And I… I should be the one to teach them.
No, I have to teach them. It’s my duty. I’m the only one who understands. The only one with a knife, the only one with the power. Yes, I should be the predator to rid the ecosystem of these pathetic slobs. The hawk to dive into this swarm of fat mice and impale them with its talons.
My fingers have already gotten the message. They stroke the smooth, wooden hilt of my excellent knife, caress it. These people might all think I have this for self-defense alone, but oh, no, no, no. This is my fang, my claw, and it’s itching for flesh to wrap around its blade.
I know what I have to do, and I know how I’ll do it. I’ll unsheathe my knife in the blink of an eye and slash it across as many throats as I can. Blood will spray on my face, mark me as the danger. They’ll all see it, and they’ll all run. Run and scream. In blind panic, some will flee deeper into the store and doom themselves merely by shortsightedness. Those will become my prey. Prey I’ll chase into the aisles, prey I’ll catch and tear apart, consume. Inhale their fear, taste their agony as my claw makes outsides of their insides. Their blood will soak me, splash onto the shelves. Paint the rainbow red. Brilliant, authentic red to break up the phony, lifeless hues of capitalism. Warmth for this cold day.
Yes. Yes. This is what I was meant to do. I was meant to cease these maggots’ lives, turn their mundane into massacre, strike when they thought they were safe. I’ll kill and keep killing until only two remain. That accursed infant and its mother. I’ll trap them into a corner. The woman will cry, scream, clutch her child and beg for mercy. ‘Please! At least spare my baby!’ She’ll pray for me to feel pity. I’ll only smile, approaching. Tears and snot will stream down her distorted, bawling face. Oh, Gods, why? she thinks. Why did it have to be me, today, in a supermarket, in such a gruesome, terrifying way? Why did my child have to be with me? How does something as awful as this happen? The only thing I’ll be wondering is if an infant’s flesh will taste any different from an adult’s.
“Thirty-seven, forty-nine.”
Hm? It’s the cashier, blonde, deep green uniform, looking at me with her big blue eyes. Shit. How will I kill her? I don’t have the element of surprise anymore. Do I just go for it? Pull out my knife and stab her in the throat?
“Is there a problem?”
…
“No. How much was it?”
“$37.49.”
I draw out my card and stick it in the reader. After inputting the code - 2778 - and submitting, the screen confirms my purchase. I take back the card, and the cashier hands me a receipt. I nod and move on to load the items in my backpack one by one.
The baby's wailing is gone. It probably stopped a while ago. All that remains is the normal background noise of the store. It's like nothing else had been there at all.
Items packed, I zip the bag and walk away from the checkout. Some steps later, I finally allow my brain to process what happened.
That was close. Way too close. I was millimeters away from making that fantasy real. Had it not been for that miraculous moment of sensibility, I would've thrown away my entire future... if it wasn't theologically incorrect, I'd say HE was looking out for me.
Gods, just… how could I lose all my rational thought like that? How did I not play that scenario to the end? Obviously I would've been shot, put down like a rabid animal, and then I would've been dead! Dead, dead, life over. No body for my soul, no brain to think with. Only the void. Endless, eternal void. Terrifying. And that's why it's important I don't let that happen to myself, why I should become the Bringer and ascend to divinity. Don't forget that.
Alright, enough scolding. I take a deep breath. With the exhalation, I force out as much stress from my body as I can. Unfortunately, it's not much. But at least I get to go home now…
Wait. There's a commotion by the exit. Seems like a bunch of people are showing all passersby some pieces of paper… dammit, I bet they're activists or something. I guess the other people share my annoyance given none seem to stick around for longer than a second before shaking their heads and moving on.
I don't want to risk snapping for real, so the secondary exit it is. I walk across the store to reach it and slip out. No one seems to be around, good --
"Excuse me, sir?"
Shit! I couldn't see that guy behind the pillar, and now he's stepped out to block my path. But this is also a free country, so I can just tell him to fuck off and be on my…
He raises the paper in his hand. What's on it freezes me.
"Have you seen this woman?"
Against all odds - yes, yes I have.
In fact, I was the last person to ever see her.
I compare her face to the man's. There's an undeniable resemblance. Were you to stretch her out a bit, strengthen her jawline and stamp a permanent dopey expression on her face, you'd get this guy.
Before I've realized the importance of self-preservation over curiosity, I've let a question fly. "Who is she?"
"Oh, she's, um, my sister," he says. "Joanna. Sh-she's been missing for the past few weeks… almost two months…" His voice wavers between pre- and postpubescent.
I almost ask why they're looking here and not in Gurindon where she lived, but remember swiftly that I don't want to go to jail. They probably have looked in Gurindon, anyway, but why come to Rapperu? Does the family live here? Will the investigation take place in this town? Shit…
"So, um, have you seen her?" he asks.
It's time to cut this confrontation here. "Sorry, no." Wow, both words were lies.
Something breaks in the man's dark eyes. It lights a little something in mine. Not expected, but not surprising.
"Alright, well, if you do, please call the police and let them know, okay?"
"Yeah, I will."
"Thanks."
With a nod, I step past him and resume my journey back home.
Huh. That was unexpected. I'd killed seven people before this, but I never bumped into any relatives of theirs. Should I consider this a momentous occasion? Should I have reveled in it more? It was a pretty great setup - such dramatic irony. Oh, please, Mister Wolf, won't you tell me where my seven little kids went…
A freezing wind snatches away my warmth, both physical and mental. Right. Can't let that bastard Red have any merriment, that's against the rules.
I slip between the spruces at the edge of the parking lot and enter the forested path beside the graveyard. The wind stops. Finally, shelter… from both weather and people.
Walking onwards, my eyes stay stuck to the bench next to the graveyard's gates. The closer I get, the more I want to sit down. But I'd just get home later...
Eh, you know what, I'm not in a hurry, and I could use the improvement to my mood. I pace faster to reach the bench, take off my backpack and sit down.
I sigh from the relief in my shoulders and legs and lean back. The old dark wood of the bench is cool, but comfortable enough. I look over my shoulder to let my eyes rest on the sight of the graveyard itself.
Graveyards are always nice. Everything about them is designed to be tranquil. Sturdy stone monuments plant to the ground in rows and columns, some simpler and less ornate than others. Engraved on their surfaces are names and the occasional aphorism. Flowers at the graves dot the scene's otherwise mild palette with vivid reds, yellows, purples and whites. The natural vegetation is much more modest - soft moss and short, prickly grass grow at the edges of the tombs and cobblestone paths.
To think this silent, beautiful yard conceals the ashes and bones of dozens of burnt corpses within…
This is where they all end up. Well, not in this particular graveyard, but dead nonetheless. They'll all perish - maybe of old age, maybe of disease, maybe in an accident, maybe in the hands of someone like me.
They won't make a difference, and even if they do, they'll still die. And what matters to the person after that? Nothing. They're dead, like everyone else will end up being.
Everyone except me.
I have a reason to keep going. I can reach immortality, endless bliss. They can’t... or they could, but they’re not aware of that option.
Either way, they’re still okay with it. How? Is it ignorance? Apathy? Have they not fully realized it? I know how weak they are - they wouldn't be strong enough to feign peace of mind in face of inevitable doom. Yet I’ve never seen anyone on the street break down into tears, cry at the heavens, curse their gods for creating this stage of never-ending anguish.
If life is such pain, how can they be happy?
A rustling pulls me out of my thoughts. An animal?
It comes from the row of bushes at the edge of the graveyard. As soon as I pinpoint the leaves that move, the creature slips back into hiding. I only got a glimpse, but what I saw was… golden?
Why would an animal have something golden? Now I’m interested.
Quietly but wasting no time, I stand up and get my backpack. I enter the graveyard gates and sneak along the fence, then the bushes. A meter or two away from the spot I saw the creature in, I slow down.
Whatever it ends up being, it might get startled and attack. I unsheathe my knife and hold it in front of me, then slowly, slowly circle the bush to see…
Nothing. Oh. That's disappointing.
Wait, at the edge of my sight! Another glint - and it's immediately gone. Disappeared behind that pine tree.
This thing is quick… and it makes no noise when it moves. That’s strange, strange indeed.
I cross from the yard into the forest proper and hide behind a tree of my own. After a few eventless seconds, I sneak to a tree even closer to the creature's presumed hiding spot. Motionless, I stay in wait, keeping my eyes out for anything golden. Or anything at all moving independently from the wind.
Something. Something's emerging.
A golden edge peeks out from behind the pine’s trunk. Come on, come out. More floats out. It's a… it's like a concave oval. With eye holes. A mask from behind?
It floats in midair, supported by no limbs or wings. It seems to move with conscious intent, but no clear destination. It seems confused. That makes two of us.
Just what is it? Where did it come from? What's its purpose? Is it dangerous?
I might get somewhat closer to knowing the answers if I saw its other side. But it doesn't want to turn on its own, it seems. Some encouragement is in order…
Slowly, I crouch to pick up a piece of gravel. I pick a direction - towards the bushes, they'll make more noise - and chuck the little rock. It lands in the bush, shuffling the leaves sharply. The mask quickly turns around --
No.
There's no way.