Rule 10

Come To Terms & Search in Attics

Statement: I’ve written it before, and I’ll probably write it again—assuming I survive— but those first few days were hard. Before the event I’d been mild mannered. The most aggressive I got was with online football games or during college disc tossing. Competition got me heated but at the end of the day we were all playing together. (Except those kids online—little jerks). Yet, with each monster I killed, I changed.

I used to tell myself that I was simply trying to survive. I also told myself that fighting tougher monsters would give me skills or powers—which I wholeheartedly believed after the lantern turned into an explosive trap. But then there was a second truth that became evident. Part of me liked killing. It didn’t help that their bodies became starlight upon death. The gore was momentary and disappeared, like a dream. Each time they faded or I got a prize, I could lie to myself.

The inside of their house was overgrown with plants. There had been a row of potted ferns near one wall that burst out of their containers and sank roots into the ground. The floorboards were shredded. I couldn’t make sense of what happened, but it seemed to have been this way for a long time.

It was like the children’s yard toys or layers of dust in my room. The woman who’d died mentioned being here for weeks. These were signs that time had passed in huge chunks. But the food in my fridge had still been good.

Post Note: These frustrating inconsistencies helped keep me distracted. I needed them, desperately. The alternative was to spend more time having a mental breakdown and there simply wasn’t room in life for emotional drama. By the time I found time, I’d…started to enjoy fighting monsters.

The upstairs bedroom was a mess of dried fluids. There were trash bags in a closet that smelled even worse. I closed the door and fought back bile. I’d emptied myself on the floor moments before and still found more to dry heave out a window at the stair’s top.

I opened the window wide and prayed that risking this well used bedroom would result in worthwhile prizes. If not, the best answer might be to burn down the house. Maybe there were buckets of bleach downstairs to help cleanse the room.

No one on earth could ever have a larger collection of dildos than this woman had managed to find. They ran the entire range from small to comically thick and each one of them showed signs of frequent use. I swallowed, closed my eyes, and went straight for the window inside her bedroom.

It was strange to think the smell helped me forget my pain. Fresh air almost removed the taste of bile in my throat. I hung out the window coughing and wishing for more than one bottle of water. Her window had a perfect view of the backyard and where I’d come over the short slope.

Pieces slowly clicked. She had probably seen me come in and used that as a reason to break away from her, activities, to come downstairs. A few pictures sat on a disheveled dresser showing what they must have looked like before the change. He was heavyset. She wore excessive makeup and didn’t have nearly the same curves. They proudly cupped their hands together with wedding rings on display.

I went back downstairs and found a pair of tongs. It helped me avoid touching the filth as I searched for a more effective sword. I hoped that the other person she’d mentioned had bought a real weapon.

It was not upstairs, so I searched around, refusing to come all this way and only get some brown orbs.

They had food, water, and clothes. They were of all sizes. Most resembled the children’s clothes that those mini-orc creatures wore. These stockpiles were in random corners of the house. Booze was between couch cushions, on top of counters, in closets.

“Dammit!” I’d done all this and gotten nowhere.

I sat down, eating from a bag of potato chips. They tasted delicious enough to make me moan. I couldn’t remember how long it’d been since I ate real junk food. The supplies at my house were woefully plain compared to what these two had stockpiled. There were pickle jars. I didn’t even like pickles but they were delicious.

They’d probably been robbing nearby houses. I piled food into my backpack and found plastic bags under the sink. More food and booze went into those containers. A pile of marital aides blocked me from looking under the bed for this hero’s sword. Unless she’d somehow shellacked his manhood and called that a sword.

It’d barely been a few hours and sunset approached. Two of the annoying mini-orcs were already scouting the yard outside. I didn’t want to alert too many others until I’d found my prize, but the downstairs doors barely functioned.

The small mini-orc creatures would have avoided such a huge giant. They were easily cowed creatures and often broke at the first sign of overwhelming aggression. At least, they ran from the horse-sized creature. Me however, they screamed “Eat meat” at.

I fished out a kitchen knife from my bag and crept toward the stair top. The little creature were easy enough to kill if I got the drop on them. This wasn’t home or as safe, so I planned to be extra careful.

Crashing came from downstairs. I knew the noise by now, especially after a day of hearing them pace around the block at home. I focused to hear their words and get a feel for where the monsters were. The plants downstairs were overgrown but most walls still stood. It sounded like some had ventured to the kitchen and others to the front room.

“Meat, meat, meat, meat,” they chattered.

Floorboards creaked as the first of them ventured up toward where I waited. I carefully stepped into the foul bedroom and hid behind the door. My steps were too loud but the half-sized monsters didn’t act as though they heard me.

“Meat,” multiple creatures chanted as they came.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Their footsteps were loud. Each footfall pounded in my ears. They poked around. Doors creaked as the creatures checked out the next room down and a hall closet. I’d been through those same rooms twice over searching for worthwhile items.

One poked his head into the room. I’d been looking too high up and failed to notice despite their loud footsteps. It looked right at me but didn’t react. Instead its muddy colored eyes slid by and focused on something behind me. I froze and heard a second set of footsteps come in the doorway.

“Sweetmeat,” the one entering said followed by a low whine. My stomach turned at his longing tone. It felt as though he was talking about the woman who’d been here in an entirely unwholesome manner.

I couldn’t risk that he’d notice me. There was no time to question their stupidity or poor vision. I shoved the door and pinned the second mini-orc between the door and frame. The first one set his eyes on me.

“Deceit!” it shouted.

I drove the second knife into the soft spot between neck and shoulder and jerked my blade. For half a breath I pondered why the action felt so easy. The image of that blade on a necklace flashed to mind. Then he mustered enough strength to clock me with his other hand.

The second squawked and wiggled out of the spot he’d been trapped in. “Fete?” it asked while slowly trailing eyes up my arm.

That made no sense. I yanked the kitchen knife out of his friend then dove for the second. He lifted the broom handle in his hands and I shuffled my feet to kick the small guy in his groin. His eyes rolled, the knife flashed across his neck, and hot blood spurted onto my face.

Two were dead and I hadn’t been scratched by them. That one had stared right through me without a single ounce of awareness. As if I hadn’t been there at all. Either they were extremely stupid or I somehow gained “Ninja bullshit” as the dead brown lady said.

Their bodies would fade soon. I needed to use them to scare off the others. The messy state of their remains made their bodies slippery and difficult to grab. I managed to grab them both and heaved one over the stair railing.

The clatter of noise got their attention. A chorus of voices asked, “Eat?” then stomped over.

They looked down at their dead companions, then up at me. I threw the second body over. It landed on a shotgun wielder’s face.

“Retreat!” he shouted. A mess of other voices echoed the order. Multiple feet ran along the floor.

I took a moment to add fuel to the fire. My fingers curled into the open claw which created an explosive rune. The spelled sucked my mind out through an arm. I ground my teeth and rode out the sensation until it burned. With a flick it went onto a used dildo.

Post Note: You did not read that wrong. I was in the woman’s bedroom and controlling where the runes went took a lot of effort. This was only my eighth or ninth use of the spell. In hindsight, there’s some amusement to be gained in imagining a giant black phallus being tossed through the back window into a squad of half-sized men, by a man named Lance Hawthorn Underwood.

Gloves couldn’t stop me from thinking how crusty these products were. I actually looked forward to throwing it away and knowing it would explode. Someone else would experience my hell for at least half a second before their body turned into chunks.

The mini-orcs gathered in the back pool. There were a lot more than the two I’d originally seen. They were busy arguing with each other. Half shouted “Meat” and the other chunk “Retreat.” I’d kept the windows open to air out the smell. I hung near the curtain and peered through and judged the distance.

A light toss cleared the distance. This time I pulled my head back. And kept my blade pointed toward the stairs in case they ran up here.

“Eat?” a mini-orc whispered. I peeked out again and wondered why chaos hadn’t ensued.

The giant black dildo sparked and exploded. I pulled my head back a second too late. A splatter of mini-orc remains hit the wall. I wiped my face and wondered how tiny creatures managed to make a mess everywhere.

“Retreat!” one shouted.

“Defeat!” a second one yelled.

There was a second much smaller boom. I peeked out the window, using the curtain as cover, and struggled to understand where it had come from.

The shotgun carrying mini-orc must have fired his gun into one of the other’s faces. He was in the pool gargling water and shouting incoherently at his minions. How he was still alive was beyond me. Having the weapon made him tough, or being tough is how he got the weapon. Gibbets of his friends were all over. Shirts and jackets they wore were strewn about with limbs still inside. The pool had somehow grown filthier.

“Retreat!” they all agreed and ran off, leaving their leader floundering in the pool.

I concentrated and prepared a second explosion, but by the time I shook off the dizziness the shotgun boss charged off through a hole in the fence. Killing him would have made my day marginally better, so I poked my head out further and eyeballed the distance between us. The picture frame would fly far enough and would probably hook left with a slight breeze. I stepped out onto the roof and kept near the house wall, intent upon explosive carnage. By the time I reached the corner the small mass of mini-orcs were gone from sight.

We would have to settle our issues another day. A cold rush caused me to shiver. I’d been contemplating their murder so easily, and it had only been around two days since returning to this world. The change bothered me.

As I walked back, I noticed a window I hadn’t seen before. It was tiny and above the bedroom one. Suddenly it clicked, they had an attic. If I were trying to hide prizes from dead people anywhere in the house, a rooftop location would be perfect.

I put the idea of flying dildo explosives and desire to do harm upon living creatures out of my mind and got back inside. Down the upstairs hallway, about halfway, was a small ceiling recess that went to an attic.

This had to be the last place to search before leaving. The explosive picture frame was parked near the stair’s base. My backpack and bags of pilfered supplies were by the rear door. Once I covered this last room I’d go home.

I found a chair, pushed the ceiling cover to the side, and hefted myself up. My body shook. For a moment I worried that this might be a return of my broken hips and detached muscles. A nagging feeling in the back of my head screamed I’d simply overdosed on drugs and was imagining a fantasy land with spells and slovenly giants.

The smell convinced me otherwise. It stank of desperation and a hope which comprised of equal parts sour gym socks and aroused female.

A lantern, exactly like the one at my house, sat inside the small space. It was on the ground taunting me. For a moment, I thought I’d somehow come full circle and ended up back at home. The lighting was about right given it was late afternoon. Then I saw the other objects. A black sword, seven blank cards that reminded me of my own, and three sets of clothes. They were on mannequins and surrounded by even more used products.

“My god,” I muttered, happy to be able to speak without punishment. My nose still worked and the window here refused to budge. I managed to survive dashing toward the sword in hopes of getting a reward.

It tingled under my palm and slowly, grudgingly, collapsed into an orb. There was pressure, like I was trying to grab a lubed up water balloon. It slipped through my fingers despite using both hands and trying to net it with a shirt. It escaped me, a dark light that still somehow shone brightly zoomed into the book to merge with the other two markers.

“No! I need a better weapon,” I shouted, emboldened by the lack of growling. My prize for a horribly screwed up and short fight turned into a mystery. I didn’t want another spell that made me dizzy. I needed something equally powerful but physically usable.

Knowing my luck this would end up as another useless item like the regular yellow orbs. I still had no clue what they did or how they played into anything.

I opened the book’s pages to search for an answer. Inside were three pages with colors. One glowed red, which was for the explosive. The other two lit with brown and a dark color which reminded me of a black light.

They reacted in the same manner as my explosive. I touched them and light pooled. They didn’t trigger easily. Pulling energy from one page didn’t affect the others. Once I figured this out it might be possible to use two abilities at once. Though the sword and whatever that brown-skinned woman had must do weird stuff.

I needed to get home and figure out what these two new colors did. There was one day left on my protection duration and I intended to test these new abilities out somewhere safe. Hopefully the black one did something with a weapon. The brown one might make me a sex fiend.