“Dad! Dad! How do plants grow?” The kid asked.
“Well, they get nutrients from the soil and energy from the sun, like how we eat our fruit and veg to get big and strong!” His father responded.
“Dad! Dad! What’s fog?” The kid asked.
“Fog is low cloud. When it’s foggy, it means the clouds from up in the sky have come down to say hello!” His father responded.
“Dad! Dad! How can dogs be related to wolves?” The kid asked.
“Well, we wanted them that way. Like how you have your mothers eyes and, unfortunately, my shortness, we bred dogs with things we want so their babies would look similar!” His father responded.
As he lay unconscious, Brent’s dreams were filled with the memories of his youth. He was curious when he was younger, interested in every possible detail that his father could provide him. He clung to every word out of his fathers mouth, as if he was the masses before their preachers. Where did my interest in life go? He often thought to himself. He was smart, absorbing information like a sponge, even if he never applied himself fully. The only things to pique his interest were fantasy and games, where he felt drawn to the many easy to grab possibilities.This obsession with fantasy is what drew him from his life. Becoming a good for nothing, he detracted himself from the real world whenever he found the opportunity.
His reason for the dislike of reality was boredom. Boredom with mundanity. Nothing intrigued him. It wasn’t like he didn’t know that there were near infinite actions he could perform, they just always felt out of reach. Rarely did he have an opportunity where he could, comfortably, find excitement - and if there were any of such opportunities, he would always find it easier to hide away in his own mind. The near infinite possibilities of the outside world weren’t anywhere near as appealing as the possibilities at his fingertips, in games and novels. Places where pesky physics didn’t matter. Places where he could enjoy risk free risks. Places where life wasn’t boring.
----------------------------------------
“Do you know how much that cost us?”
The shout echoed around the minimalist office of CEO of Meditech Ltd, Alexander Richards, as he stared down the Department Head of Biomatter Handling, James Lech, in front of his desk.
“Well you see, Sir. The spike, which you told us to put in, killed it in the crash, Sir. You told us it had to be iron. You told us it had to be there to ‘prevent the thrashing of an already weakened specimen’. It was all your instruction that we followed.” James responded, punctuating each “You” with a jab of his finger.
The CEO wasn’t a patient man, his face getting redder with each accusation, but he knew that to fire the man would be to get rid of an important employee. He had invested too much into James Lech, . Even calling him out on his own bullshit where necessary.
“Ugh, if only the crash hadn’t happened. I assume the Demon remained in the corpse, seeing as there’s nobody who could have claimed to be the cause of its death in the crash.”
“Well, here’s where the news gets worse. No mana is in the corpse at all sir. It obviously attempted a body hop. Our best assumption is that, either a tree in the area houses it, or the sole survivor is harbouring it unknowingly.”
“For fucks sakes James, why didn’t you bring the survivor with you?”
“Well, sir, our only available compellor on the scene - that was still alive - was only a Lesser Demon in rank. He struggled to shut the emergency responders up, do you really think he could have brought an injured man? We’ll grab him once he’s back home, bring him in ‘willingly’ and check for demonic presence.”
“You do that. I don’t want one of the only Dryad Royals left in England to go to waste in such a stupid fucking way. Get me Brent Langley and, if he has my Fae Demon, fucking kill him for it!”
----------------------------------------
Waking up in a hospital bed really ranked low on the possible ways to awaken leaderboard. Never has Brent been injured enough to have needed a night in hospital, and, noticing the lack of body pain, he didn’t even think it was necessary last night.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
Getting up and stretching, he realised he felt like a new man. His joints, usually aching from pure idleness, moved like butter. His mind felt the clearest it's been in a lifetime, usually being weighed down by a lack of sleep and no motivation. His muscles felt stronger than ever before. Have I actually gained muscle mass? He thought, looking down and flexing his arms, spotting a bit more definition that was almost definitely not there prior to waking up in hospital.
Coming down from the high he felt from his body’s rejuvenation, he remembered the crash. The smash of metal on metal. His own blood pouring out onto the road he lay on. The image lay clear in his mind. Except, his own wounds seemed more serious than he could have thought given his current state.
A young nurse entered the room, clearly surprised by the recovery infront of her.
“Ms Nurse,” Brent asked, “Do you happen to know how long ago the accident was? And whether or not the other people are fine?”
“Mmmm, well, you came in yesterday morning. So, a day ago maybe? About the ‘other people’. There were none, according to the police and the ambulance crew. Even the kind lady who called in the accident said that there were no other people injured.”
Huh, well what the fuck did I crash into then? Brent thought to himself, keeping his words unspoken out of respect for the Nurse who answered his questions. He also kept words unspoken to avoid possible self incrimination, guilt twisting his gut as he obscured the truth.
“Must’ve misremembered. Anyway, I feel fine, can I go home soon?”
“The doc has to perform some more checks on you, but as long as you seem alright, you will be good to go. However, the police might come round your house for a few questions. You know how they can be sometimes.” She said, the last bit added with a slight smile.
Brent did, indeed, know how they can be. All small, rural village towns are the same and Pinington is nothing but rural. There’s almost nothing to do there, barring the expanses of fields, hills and the occasional woodland - if those tickle your fancy. This is precisely why his parents had moved there, to avoid the hustle and bustle of their old home in the US. Due to the quiet nature of Pinington, the police hardly have anything they have to do, so it’s obvious that they want to ask him questions because they have nothing else to do.
The doctor, having performed his checks and handed Brent a figurative seal of approval, left him to get dressed and ready to leave the hospital by himself. During this time alone, Brent got a good look around the room. There was a white ceiling, white walls and a blue linoleum floor. All stereotypical for a hospital. To the right of Brent was a desk, storing a change of clothes that his friend brought him, according to the doctor. This was topped with a flower in the glass vase. What caught the vaguest bit of his attention was the base of the cut stem, the flower seeming to have attempted to grow roots.
Neglecting the effort to think about the odd growth, he left his bed and wandered to the desk to fill in his paperwork to leave. It didn’t take long - especially with the receptionist pointing out exactly where he needed to sign, as well as to where the other boxes that required his attention were - and he was allowed to leave.His car being totaled in the accident, he requested a taxi from the front desk, hoping not to bother one of his limited friends.
Waiting for the taxi, his mind began to wander as he focused on his surroundings. Doing so, he found that, not only had he physically improved, his entire view of the world had changed. The air had a new energy to it, tingling his skin as it gently caressed his exposed arms. He felt more grounded to the Earth, as if his own breath fed into the ground with each inhale, the Earth breathing back out through him on his exhale. The moment stretched to eternity, as he allowed himself to feel more and more one with the world, only snapping back as the taxi pulled up.
What the fuck was that? Don’t say I’m about to become some hippie or something, going out and hugging tree’s n shit.
Opting to ignore what seemed to be a momentary delusion, he hopped in the taxi to go home. All the while recognising the breath of the Earth’s presence flowing through him, even after losing contact with the ground itself. The sensation was alien but natural, as if it was a part of him for as long as he knew, all whilst knowing it wasn’t. Being slightly freaked out, he opted to restrict the flow, attempting to shut his breath off from the world. And it worked, the presence fading, but still present, trying to enter into him like a dog begging to enter a room.
Getting home, he paid the taxi driver and entered his house, the place looking the slightest bit more abandoned than before. All his stuff lay around in the spots he’d left it, meaning his friend must have grabbed his clothes and quickly left straight after. Realising he didn’t have much to actually do, he decided to close off his night with a bit of gaming and microwave meal eating before going to bed.
The feeling of the Earth’s presence remained no matter how hard Brent tried to push it away from his mind whenever the thought arrived. Lasting until exhaustion decided to return to his mind, he arrived at a conclusion. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. With this thought, he allowed the breath to flow, the relief of the release pushing him into sleep.