Chapter 5: Diabolical Language

One moment, nothing.

The next, awake. And not the drowsy-rubbing-your-eyes, stagger-into-the-bathroom, and pee-on-the-potted-plant instead of the toilet kind of awake. No, I was completely and totally awake. Bucket-of-ice-water-and-a-three-Red-Bull-chaser awake.

Instantaneously, I became hyper aware of my situation. I was seated, my back against a gnarly tree trunk. Dappled green, gold, and white sunlight spangled down through the tree canopy above me. I smelled honeysuckle and maybe lavender? Songbird notes—peeps, trills, caws, and chirps—mixed and mingled with the shushing of wind in the treetops. The other sound wasn’t so pleasant.

A deep, rolling, staccato growl rumbled behind me but so close I could feel the vibrations in the tree trunk. With my hands pushing against the trunk, my feet digging into the side of knobby roots, I jetted forward into a combat roll I didn’t know I knew how to do. I came up in a crouch with one arm outstretched as if to ward off attack.

In that peculiar instant, I saw I was no longer wearing the hunter green polo shirt that I’d worn to work at Keck. A puffy white pirate-type shirt covered my arm to just past the elbow. Just past my forearm, a leaden bracelet inscribed with small white symbols encircled my wrist. Just past my wrist, a ratty leather fingerless glove finished the positively rakish look. And just past my outstretched hand, a nightmare sat and stared back at me hungrily.

“What the f—” Everything froze. A red strobe light bathed my field of vision.

A very smooth male voice with a jazzy Louisiana drawl crooned so loudly, I’d have covered my ears if I could’ve moved at that moment. His words appeared as running text in the midst of the blinking red light:

{Warning! The word you have uttered is strictly prohibited. Please see the Diabolism Hotlist to avoid future penalties. Note: future use of Diabolical Language will not delay combat but will result in subsequent pain and distress.}

The world unfroze, and I almost blurted out the curse again. The nightmarish thing sat at the base of the tree where I’d been moments before. It was a shaggy black and gray creature about the size of a neighborhood trash can. Roughly toad-like in shape, it was squat with narrow, crooked forelegs and horrendously thick, horrendously clawed hind legs. Its bulbous torso led to a lumpy, thick neck that tapered slightly to a large, oval head full of nasty-sharp gnashing teeth. It had round, slightly luminous Felix-the-cat-clock eyes and bent, triangular lynx-like ears. Felix the cat clocks were creepy as heck, but at least clocks never ate anyone. This beastie, on the other hand, looked like it might want to make a snack of me.

Something blinked, a tiny blue light, in the corner of my vision, but I wasn’t about to take my eyes of the creature. It growled again, and the wave of sound caused me to pee a little.

It took one step and pounced. All I saw was a bear trap of teeth and those freaking creepy glowing eyes. I screamed something positively unmasculine, threw up my other arm, and closed my eyes. I heard an electrical buzz, a guttural screech, and something like a wet sack of fish splatting onto concrete.

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When I opened my eyes, the tree trunk was festooned with muck, gore, and patches of the creature’s gray and black fur. The little blue light blinked again in my periphery. No matter how I turned my head, the light stayed in exactly the same spot. I couldn’t shake it away. The moment I touched a finger to my right temple, the light opened like an iris, revealing a transluscent page of parchment that began filling with text.

A different voice from the language warning, this one notably British and female, read the text as it appeared: *[Notifications Scroll: Read now? Yes or No?]*

“Uh… yes.”

The same female voice: *[New Skill Unlocked: Reflex Lightning]*

The words grew large for a moment but then whisked into the margin of the scroll page, forming a heading: SPELLS.

*[New Achievement Earned: First Blood, 10 Achievement Points]* Not sure what it was about that British female voice, but I really liked it. She went on to explain First Blood like so: *[Your attack killed a hostile creature before it could cause you any damage!]*

Followed by:

*[New Achievement Earned: One Shot, 10 Achievement Points. You are a natural magic user. In a single magic attack, you slew a hostile creature!]*

The ghostly parchment page rolled up and vanished, leaving a not-so-bright blue dot stuck on the edge of my vision. Against my better judgment, I drew closer to the gory scene in front of me. Whatever I had done had absolutely pureed the creature, whatever it was.

The periphery light glowed again. I tapped my temple. No voice this time, but the following text appeared in opaque lettering:

I didn’t speak the word “yes” aloud. I thought it. The word “yes” sparkled, and a series of small images, each with a brief description, hung in the air right in front of me.

<1 Pile of Root Runt Filets: This is a Crafting Item>

I reached up and touched the floating boot graphic. The word EQUIP blinked into existence. I tapped it and jumped.

It felt like furry snakes wrapped themselves around my feet and lower legs. I looked down to see scruffy gray and black fur boots on my feet, but it was real, not a graphic representation.

“Cool,” I whispered. And it was seriously cool. I felt a wave of peace wash over me as I at last understood it all.

I’d never gone into Keck, had I? I’d stayed home, thrown myself a pity party, and got rip-roaring drunk. That’s it: I was drunk dreaming.

The black hole was just my subconscious’s way of representing my cancer. The fantasy game had populated my inebriated mind because of all the role playing video games I’d played on consoles and online. Of course, I’d be a mage or some other magic user. I’d always thought science was magical. And, in the dream at least, I could fight, take out my woe-is-me-I’m-dying angst.

I heard another seismic growl and looked up just in time to see another Root Runt charging toward me. I threw up my arms, but this time, the creature darted right. In one incredulous moment, I watched a pulse of blue ball lightning fly from my outstretched hands, missing the creature. I watched the Root Runt close its jaws on my upper arm.

I let fly a string of furious curses. My vision blinked red, but that didn’t freeze anything. And it didn’t stop the searing pain I felt as the beastie tore a chunk of flesh—most of my freaking triceps—from my arm.

I screamed three times and felt dizzy as my bloody arm fell limp against my side. I’m not sure why I didn’t pass out. Maybe it was some deep seeded survival reflex. I don’t know. I only know that the pain of that bite was unlike anything I’d ever experienced, a sheer wave of stinging, sizzling agony. I spun toward the creature, raised up my left hand, and yelled something like, “Gak!”

My hand blurred, the Root Runt launched away from me as if hit by a bat, and crashed into a tree trunk. With a horrific crack, the creature bent around the trunk and fell lifeless to the ground.

I swayed. My vision blinked red. A text appeared:

I very nearly cursed again, but instead touched my temple. A new scroll opened up entitled Inventory. I swatted the health potion and collapsed. I thought I heard some kind of strange music… just before it all went dark.