“Is it really alright to wake him up like this? I don’t know the guy personally, and he might have underestimated the battlefield, but I really don’t see the point in doing this.”
“Oh my dear Alana, it may be true that he isn’t really consistent, lacks in term of power, and is unintentionally condescending, but we don’t do this for some petty grudge. We do this for entertainment!”
Alana begins to shrug off her conscious for what Seb believes to be a good bit of fun. She wasn’t ever the type to think deeply about the consequences of her actions anyway; she further affirmed instinctual nature when she then pushed Amil off the carriage.
Amil: 3rd perspective → Amil: 1st perspective.
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No one ever really wakes up as a result of being hit by the ground. One wakes up in the middle of the air, further confusing anyone who can properly recognize that they are falling, but aren’t skilled or fast enough to do anything about it. If I were on the other end of such a humorous situation, I might’ve laughed at that sort of sight. I am currently in the situation that I just described, and I can’t seem to bring myself to laugh.
I panically below, “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.”
Gravity takes its toll on me, as it would for any other being, and has me drop to the ground with a loud thud. I being twitching, confirming that I’m not dead, or just about to die.
After what anyone would call a rude awakening I look towards the responsible culprits: one grins fully understanding the severity of his crime, and embracing it; the other averted my interrogative gaze as she felt just the twinge of guilt.
Releasing a tired sigh, I state, “Thanks for waking me up. I suppose that you two know where we are now, right.”
The two didn’t know what to make of those words. Well, I guess someone that has just been rudely awakened through flight wouldn’t be so calm to ask his perpetrators where he was, but I hold more gratitude rather than pettiness.
I was terribly bored wherever that place was. I had to stay in the silver cage of the entirety of the night and morning, with nothing to entertain myself while I was in there. I even tried to play rock paper scissors by myself! Which just wasn’t possible because everything was distorted to hell.
“If you’re concerned; I’m not mad. I’m more grateful that you got me out of a terrible dream. That said, can someone please tell me exactly where we are?”
Hoping to redeem some sort of trust, Alana states, “We are in the town of Woodpusher in the north of Checkmate.”
Seb jokingly mentions, “Well we have to obtain the rights to visit and plunder the dungeon. This would be something we could do immediately as well if we didn’t have to incognito. So our first priority is to wait here as the others to collect the quests we need to clear.”
“Why didn’t you guys just go with them? It would have been more efficient,” I say calculatingly.
In response to what I thought was a decent idea, Alana states “That might be true, but that would be the classic case of putting the cart before the horse. You are asleep, inexperienced, and very important to the kingdom. You might not have noticed yet, but if something happens to you.” She stops to breathe, looking away from me, choosing rather face it towards the direction of the blue sky, then stating, “Our heads might not be attached to our own body by the end of it.”
I feel as if an incredibly gelid bucket of water had decided to fashion itself on every corner of my body. This kind of feeling always happens when you make a terrible connection.
I, shocked, respond, “No. I guess I knew the connection from the start. However, I was intending to live no matter what. I didn’t perceive it to be so important.”
“Well, of course, you think you’re going to live. Everyone thinks they’ll live to very little success. Naivety like this is what I expected from those raised in the castle,” says Seb, exhaling a momentary sigh, shortly conceiving to a grin as he comes down the carriage to wrap around his arm on my back. “You should thank us now! We are going to make you just like one of us! You’ll fit in before you know it!”
Alana sarcastically states, “says the son of one of the biggest corporate leaders in the entirety of the United Minds: Vineyard. This whole thing has truly put me through some interesting sights.”
Vineyard? From the sound of it, it sounds like they are one of the titans for U.M. economics. I heard the name dropped in the palace so many times it stuck onto my brain. I have no idea what kind of business they are, or the goods that they deal with (though I do expect some connection to alcohol), but shouldn’t they behold their son enough to not allow him to be an adventurer?
By no means is the social status of an adventurer bad. What I said earlier was a pretty big lie. If one is not careful, they could just be seen as a common thug, some even being common thugs. Adventures seem to have a fluctuating value to the public. It definitely isn’t something so remarkable that corporate powerhouses would willingly allow their children to choose adventuring over business responsibilities. There seems to be more to the picture than what was said.
Seb then states, “I know what you’re thinking. And to answer that. I am not going to answer any one of those questions right now. I hold a private right to my experiences.”
Saying what he needed to say, his eyes lost their previous vibrancy. His cocksure smile plummeted into a depressing frown, his hands lost their force and confidence. All of the previous traits were replaced with an imaginative distance.
I quickly cancel any idea that involves having to overstep clearly made boundaries of Seb. I can’t muck up the team structure by forcing someone to cough up their current life story.
To change the subject, I state, “So why are stopping by here, to begin with. Anything we need to do here in specific.”
After my little statement, the figurative border does not disappear but instead chooses to retreat from my view. Being knowledgeable in these sorts of things, it seems to be a form of trauma. I want to help, but I can’t do anything if the person in question doesn’t want to solve it himself. The best course of action right now is to not bring it up, and wait for him to confide in me himself. Granted, I wouldn’t imagine one would want to consult a fifteen-year-old boy about psychological problems.
Alana replies, “This place is going to be a pit stop for us. Carlos wanted to sleep after driving the carriage for the entirety of the night, while the rest of us decided it would be a good time to stalk up on more materials and Francisco decided to go to the guild to pick out a quest for us to do in the meantime.”
I prop myself up, ruining the arms hold of Seb, from the ground to view the sleeping Carlos that I hadn’t noticed earlier. He slept soundly, not only through the entire conversation but my sudden scream as well. I proceed to wonder whether this can be attributed to the exhaustion of driving a carriage for a night or simply being that skilled at sleeping.
I claim, “Well I want to check out the town. I assume that one of us has to stay for Carlos.”
Seb mutely shows his desire for his role to stay at watch by raising his hand. Alana and I take a quick glance at each other to gauge the other’s thoughts about this request, ultimately accepting Seb’s offer at guard duty.
Alana lowered herself from the carriage to make her way to the town. Seb picks himself up to sit in the carriage, silently sitting in the front.
I go to join Alana as she walks to town, trying not to lose my guide; I turn my head back to see Seb waving us goodbye as we disappear from his range of visibility.
We had gained a good distance towards the town and a further distance from the carriage prompting Alana to express, “If you have any questions about all of that, it would be wise to ask now.”
I ponder what sort of question I should propose, stating, “Don’t worry about that. I know I should stalk up on information, but these sorts of things should be told by him shouldn’t it?”
Alana continues to make an appraising gaze at me; she shrugs her shoulder to show that my response was acceptable, subsequently, we walk all the way to the town without any more words to each other. It was really awkward afterward.
Arriving at the town, we saw a beautifully decorated plaza with a statue in the middle of everything. The statue seemed so out of place in the center; it commanded and demanded respect, reverence, and awe.
It painted an image of a man not garbed in armor, but in a tunic fashioned for battle with a shoddy sword, at best, to the side of his waist. Instead, it held a flag higher than the statue itself in an effort to prove some sort of cryptic message. He is depicted with a clean-shaven face, a brazen smile was carved on its stone face; its eyes were determined. I looked at my back to see what it was looking, what he was looking at.
I position myself to take a similar point of view of the statue; I make a one hundred eighty degrees turn, facing south. I see the enormous success that is Checkmate from this entire distance. Others would have this moment and begin to smile and foster pride for their country; I see the same sight with a sickened stomach, the urge to punch something, and a depressing state of mind.
Any enthusiasm or fun is currently being executed inside of me. While wallowing in my despair alone, something I have been doing much more often recently, I listen to Alana try to start a conversation.
“Are you okay? You seem terribly upset. Are you homesick? It might feel better to let it out rather than keep it inside. I know we haven’t known each other for very long, but if I c…”
I momentarily open my mouth in my big moment of weakness, in the back of my mind; I screamed out my desire for someone else to know what’s happening. I almost spilled everything out again, but my experience tells me that letting everything out has never truly worked out for me. It hasn’t in the past, and the same stays true for the present.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA,” I exhale self-deprecatingly. “It is amazing how despite all that rough and tough training. I can still look like I’m sick,” I murmur, “Well, she is right about that one thing though. Just a bit homesick. Nothing else.”
I proceed to walk away from the statue-like I ran away from the conversation: immediately. I hear Alana screaming, “Bullshit!” and “You aren’t running away from my interrogation!” with a fiery temper. I don’t need to look back to know that she was incredibly irritated. I can already feel the murderous glare, however, that works.
We continue to walk down the street with confused onlookers, relentless hounding, and stone cold indifference. As a result of the screaming, we attract a familiar face to our location.
“Alana. What the fuck? Why are you screaming a god forbidden banshee that woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” details Francisco? He turns his head a couple of degrees to see me: the reason behind this mess. He exhaled a sigh, hoping to avoid any more conflict as it is, stating, “Let’s come up with a better subject. Alana you start.”
Alana shows a reluctance but ultimately follows suit understanding that continuing her interrogation won’t help either of us. She breathes in and out to somehow suppress her earlier outburst of what I describe as brutal honesty. She states, “Whatever.” taking a shot at my earlier behavior.
“Since you’re here now. What quest are we going to do in this town for now? I doubt we’re going to spend so much time here.”
“I only took a simple extermination quest. It should be six monsters tops, but, since we have such low credibility…” Francisco quickly glances at me too soon turn away. “This is the only quest we could take, requiring a total of three people.”
After saying his final words, it was blatant how this terrible situation was going to progress. No one else in the group was free enough to replace any of us, forcing us to be a group in spite of our terrible chemistry and battle imbalance. They couldn’t wait for very long because if they did, we would already have to leave the town.
Francisco tiredly states, “Let us just go to the guild already. We have more productive things to do than quarrel.”
Alana and I decide to follow along with that plan because, in this world, only soon to be dead men hold work interfering grudges. It goes to show the tempered mental maturity of this world when young children are able to accept such mature content.
All three of us began to walk to the adventurer’s guild in an orderly fashion.
We then arrived at front of the (now nonfictional) fine guild establishment: two visible floors, windows that peered inside and surrounded by flower pots to give a flowy sort of feel. Francisco pushes the door to hear a classic bell sound that one would typically find in restaurants, inciting the image of good service.
Francisco says, “Get in. We don’t have as much free time as we would like. We’re getting lunch, and then we’ll go to finish our little quest.”
Sometimes, at the beginning of their career, adventurers are allowed to have thirty free meals from the guild before they have to start paying for it. This system was set in place so that adventurers would be encouraged to even be an adventurer, prevent any death from starvation as some of the fees to even survive as an adventurer usually leave them penniless, and to avoid adventurers that rob or threaten for food. No one will follow anyone if they aren’t fed properly.
With that said, I decided to order a simple sandwich so that I could down the hunger I felt from sleeping through breakfast. It was an okay dish, nothing really remarkable, just a decent sandwich. I found it odd that they called it a sandwich too.
Alana took a bite of her omelet while Francisco was starting to finish the last of his soup. Francisco starts to slurp on the last of soup while Alana barely even nibbles on her dish.
“Do you mind imparting more information that we need for the quest? It would be nice to know where I need to go,” I question.
Not before delivering a stare filled with blatant distrust, he states, “We are going to head up a little bit north up the town until we reach a small cave. The guild reports say this was a recent update, signifying that there will probably be low numbers of monsters. It recounts that they had a humanoid shape, and they were carrying items as well. There is the case they might be immigrants, in that case, we have to either confirm it or bring them here safely for an extra fee of an increased fee. If hostile…”
This is when Francisco stopped his words to allow a somber silence to flood our lunch. I and Alana perfectly knew what words were supposed to fill the silence, causing Alana to lose her already appetite, and me to remember something from my past, tugging me away from awareness of my surrounding environment.
Snapping me out of overwhelming episode; Alana suddenly rises from her seat suddenly, to the surprise of Francisco and I.
Alana-still vividly angry from our previous interaction, with the added effect of our new quest, gets up and states,” I’m going to get my gear. We’ll reconvene at the north gate when I come back. Any questions?”
Francisco and I then ask, “Then can I have your leftovers,” in accidental unison. We both stare each other down to showcase the other should just give up on the food.”
Alana, not deriving any fun from this humorous situation, proceeds to say, “I don’t care. Just share it if you want,” walking out of the guild at a brisk walking pace to then make a runner’s sprint towards the carriage: an obvious coping mechanism.
Thinking our conversation was over, I say, “Well. I’ll head to the bathroom for my needs n…”
“Stop. I want to make some things clear. I don’t want to insure debilitating misunderstanding into the group as it is,” asserts Francisco. “If I criticize you. I’m not doing this to separate you from the group. I’m just trying to bring up flaws that can be fixed. I’m calling for a truce.”
The fifteen-year-old boy was earnestly asking for a truce, a form of reconciliation after his harsh critiques. His intentions were very clear; it oozed out from the very word few people would even burden themselves with thinking. It would be a massive lie to say that it hadn’t resonated me in some way, some of the memories I had left
I know that deep down, that I should really pay heed to his words as he clearly has more experience. I may have lived for more years, but he has lived fifteen years in this world. As an adult, I should be able to take this criticism in understanding that it is for the benefit of the team and me.
However, despite being a technical adult, I spat, “I’ll try not to get in your way.”
All though it could be argued that these words really state the full extent of my goals with the group; I ingrained a clear antipathy to the idea.
A previously fifty-seven-year-old (at least what my oldest memory tells me) man is acting like an angsty teenager! Look at me acting my current age! My wife was right, I really don’t act my age. That thought is very depressing.
Yet, I refuse to take back anything that I’ve said. I further cement this fact with my leave to the restroom to (not in this order) change, clean up, and get this shit out my system.
Amil: 1st perspective → Sebastian Vineyard: 3rd perspective.
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Sebastian continued to sit on the carriage, focusing all of his perceptive senses on a single silver coin: it held a hollow hole in the center of its spherical design, a string the size of a hair strand-one that might make one think it would be easily snappable-fastened around the previously mentioned coin to make an odd charm of sorts. There was no other person, object, or setting that held as much importance as this comparably small possession of his, as evidenced by his single-minded attention towards the bauble. It moved in a linear left and right swing, accompanied by a hypnotic entrancement.
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
He stops swinging the little trinket from swaying any further, preferring to place it calmly and still, stagnantly still within the palm of his hand. However, even the motionless artifact still endowed a much-needed sense of relief, through magical and memory entrenched history with himself. Opting to rely on its enchanted usefulness, he then adorns it as an inconspicuous necklace under the layer of his warm clothing.
Sebastian then took a long view of the beautiful nature that surrounded him and the man-made creation of the carriage that he was sitting on. It would certainly not be anything to look at if one were a normal denizen of the area, some even bordered on a tinge of disgust if they weren’t being completely dismissive of it. One can see a miracle so many times that it would no longer matter, this also applies to the mundane as well. However, the steps of someone disturbs the serenity of the scene. They were very quick steps at that.
Alana, finally entering the view of Sebastian, quickly enters the carriage in a very frantic manner, echoing the frustration she bore dealing with an unresponsive nitwit. The interaction had left such a deep mark that, in the middle of searching for her equipment, her anger was worsening the more she thought about it. All of these displays anger, unexplained in the eyes of Sebastian, only seemed to have incited a sense worry for the well being for Alana as she was heatedly putting on her adventuring equipment that consisted of a set of leather armor, her belt, and the sharp knives themselves.
Sebastian looks at Alana in careful contemplation of what buttons he needed to push to prevent the worst case scenario. Lines such as, ‘what happened,’ or, ‘how do I make her say it,’ and, ‘what is the success rate of successfully calming her down,’ passed through the brain of Sebastian seamlessly, not considering the option of just leaving things as they were. Taking a blink to map out all of the possibilities he could think of, he says his piece.
“Why do you look so enraged,” says Seb respectfully.
Stopping in her tracks, angry as a womp, Alana replies, “Why?” Taking a bit of time to replace the malice in her voice with bitterness. “Our new party member Amil,” she says before returning to her original destination in a sprint.
Sebastian became very disappointed in himself. He had the opportunity to help a friend, and the chance slipped away so fast that he debated whether it even really happened. When he came to the obvious conclusion, he took it personally by the means of facing his head down to sulk. Hoping that nothing too bad would happen. Thinking that if Amil only gets stabbed once, he should thank his own fortune.
“Well you don’t look so happy, do you. Not nearly as bad as Alana though. She was absolutely frigid.”
Sebastian raises his head to see his comrade Alisha, the one with the uncanny ability to always appear in the time of need for any of her male companions. Alisha continues to show a face that reeks of puzzlement from all that she just had to process. That didn’t matter to Sebastian however as he immediately began to hug Alisha, rambling on about how someone was going to be stabbed and such.
Sebastian Vineyard: 3rd perspective → Francisco: 1st perspective.
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I have to wait at the front gate for about ten minutes to see that Amil finally caught up with me; Alana arrived fifteen minutes after Amil. The tense atmosphere from the dining scene carried over to our little reunion as well. Serving to only extrapolate the situation.
We decided to carry on with the quest until we ran into some escapee monsters that probably came from a far off dungeon.
Luckily, they only consisted of three exceedingly weak monsters: Goblins. They may be very powerful in high numbers, but we would be able to easily dispatch of them very quickly.
Alana and Amil decided to take care of the monsters as it is very easy to get exhausted through the use of magic.
Alana, taking two monsters, quickly dissected the head of the two goblins from the rest of their body using her meticulously polished iron knives. There was a bit of blood splatter in that department, but unless someone was purposely sneaking around, it was easy to forgive.
Amil, taking a different approach from Alana, decided to go bare fisted, choosing to dispose of his own nuisance through the use of his fist rather than his previously established weapons. This only makes it harder to pinpoint what Amil is. It really boggles my mind if he’s just an archer, swordsman, or a pugilist. He does trip up very often though.
If it was just that, I wouldn’t have to be running an entire marathon, at full speed, nonstop. I can’t tell if he is actually suffering or is playing the rest of us of a huge fool. He has all of these childish moments of his that really show his immaturity, making one think that he has an uplifting attitude, but…
Amil states, “I took care of my goblin after punching it in the face one too many times. If you want, we can store it in my storage ring to prevent any big trouble,” with a face of minimal interest, purposely drawing a line in the sand.
There are moments where his nonchalant nature delves from that childish tone to something more somber, more darker. His eyes tend to blank out in these moments as he begins to stray from his humanity. In these moments, a shaking spine is to be expected as some part of him just scares us to that very core. It puts my mind in a constant state of disarray.
With irritation haunting his voice, he states, “Come on. Let’s go.”
I still understand that he wouldn’t be able to handle the combined might of our team, it is reflected on his level of skill. He has no clear advantage, being more of a jack of a trades. But…
Come on let’s go. We should complete this mission as quickly and efficiently as possibly can,” I state as I continue to walk behind Amil.
He would without a doubt find some way to end us all. His eyes are supersaturated with death drive, those types of eyes belong to one of the most dangerous species of beings in the entirety of existence: a martyr to his cause.
We finally arrive at our desired destination: a deep gray of the cavern that the moss has decided to stain in its own color.
Alana, with a clear purpose, says, “Someone needs to stay outside to keep track of any other roaming monsters. Monsters that escaped the grasp of the dungeon tend to consist of the clever bunch.”
After a pause of silence, “I understand. I’ll stay out here so you two can exterminate the supposed goblins. You guys can take your time too. After taking a second look at the sun,” putting his back to the cave, “The both of you should get comfy. We have time in spades.”
Alana then promptly walks into the darkness drenched caverns without a second thought. I try to put a word into somehow smooth something over, but my attempt is dashed as I had to run for the disappearing outline of Alana.
Deeper into the cave, nothing can be seen because we’re in a cave.
“Fran, could you be a dear and cast some sort of lighting skill now,” says Alana in a more friendly tone. This more calm tone of voice can be attributed to the trust they both share for each other as fellow trainees and the disappearance of the volatile chatterbox Amil.
After mumbling a light spell in my hippocampus’ possession, “You could do with being just a bit nicer. It could ease up the tensions.”
Reiterating how badly I fucked up with that statement, she states, “I don’t want to hear this from the very first person to snap on his,” accompanied with a frown. Drawing back from her earlier warm tone, “He is just so irritating! I tried to be kind and understanding, but he shows no interest in revealing the truth.”
This is very typical of Alana. She is the kind of person that demands the absolute truth no matter the cost. Of course with the good intentions to somehow held, but it is a part of her that is just a bit out of hand.
“Look, I know I wasn’t kind to him at first, but only because I was pissed off. I hoped that my little snap that he would realize his problems, which in turn caused this whole slew of new problems.”
“And that has helped the group so much. Thank you, Fran, for not thinking properly.”
“Hey! I’m not the only culprit you know! I’ve kept quiet to prevent our heads to be put on the chopping block, but what were you yelling at him for?”
“He is hiding something. I don’t what it is, but whatever it may be, it causes him an enormous amount of heartache.”
“Was it so easy to read his face? You would think that someone that has supposedly lived in the Palace for so long would be better at keeping his emotions in check.”
“He actually did an exceptional job that time. His face still gave a clear indicator of someone who was only experiencing a regular tragedy. However, his heart was in such dismay that it forcibly made me more unreasonable. If you weren’t there I would have decked him in the face.”
What Alana is describing is her skill ⌈Sensitivity⌋ which allows her to receive signals from one’s heart: discerning emotions like unease, happiness, or even love (with the exception of hate, luckily). She has become very perceptive of emotions thanks to this ability, but it has its fair share of setbacks. Working similarly any other sense, it can not only be overloaded if there is enough of a certain emotion, but it also couldn’t be turned off. If someone was to feel abnormally happy, she would be forced to invest in a specific emotion so it doesn’t hurt as badly. She can sorta choose which emotion to take into extremes, but anything that is taken to the extremes can have terrible after effects.
“Was it really that fucking bad? Is that why you sprinted out of the shop like that?”
I am of course unaware of how exactly how bad the consequence of her power even feels, but I remember her describing it like like having her heart being constantly impaled by multiple stakes. From my objective perspective, that sounds both painful and an experience I would never want to deal with.
“Ha, you’re putting it lightly. It is just like having a thorn bush as a replacement for one’s skin. One slathered in poison if the day is bad enough.”
*Chink.*
We both heard the sound vibrate through the cavern walls, causing us to tense our bodies.
“I would hate to experience such a terrible sounding form of torture.”
Both of us continued our little dialogue to give off the impression that we haven’t just heard that sound. Alana and I are hoping to purposely set off the trap of the monsters in hope of getting this mission done faster. Goblins are clever, but still, have quite the limited perception when it comes to mind games. They can add while we can multiply.
“You wouldn’t believe the amount of pain I can withstand thanks, this little ability. It has barely paid me back for the amount of pain it has caused me.
Afterward, when Alana had finished her sentence, we both entered the place where the sound came from. It was a part of the cavern that had more of an open deposition, more breathing room in general. The room also had supply scattered around, just not the ones that I expected.
As if saying out loud would answer my troubles, I state, “Quilts, makeshift beds, cooking stations, toys… This can’t be the work of goblins, it has to be…”
“Watch out! Your rig…”
I turn to view my right to try to analyze the danger. I see a dark object fly directly at my face. I think it would have become a knee if I could observe it more, but I would know the answer to that because I’m about to get knocked out.
*Slam*
Francisco: 1st perspective → Amil 1st perspective.
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I have continued to do nothing for what I believe to be a solid hour. This is a time where one is ordered to stay watch and stay out of everyone else’s way. I once again see the purpose of why this tactic was implemented, but still, have a hard time coming to terms with the sour taste in my tongue.
While standing watch bitterly, I saw a tiny shadowy figure run to the cave that I happen to be standing. The tall field grass, with the help of the covert bits of melting snow-now simple water drops-, covered the rest of the shadowy figure’s body, allowing his body to appear like a snow bunny grazing on its food.
I stood myself up to take the obvious course of action when a shadowy figure appears in a world filled with dangerous monsters. Not even beginning to indulge in the hilarity that this event is occurring in an area with tall grass, taking my bow and respective arrow from the storage ring; I position myself in the manner that a rifleman would at deer, a hunter, and his target, predator, and prey.
However, just before I let my arrow fly into the organs of my supposed prey; I saw it tremble in absolute fear of what was to come, paralyzed in fear of its death with its long rabbit ears stretch out to its maximum height. This is when I decided to take a few mental steps back at the new discovery of its ears; my personal suspicions begin to form. Hoping to elevate assumption to assurance, I walk towards my previous prey after putting away my bow and arrow in favor of a dagger more suitable towards close combat. Stepping, in careful paces, towards the frightened little thing only seemed to dramatically increase the number of shivers the poor thing could handle. When I got close enough; I fixed my gaze upon any detail I could obtain: its bunny ears, childlike face, injured body with nicks, dirty blond hair, and its terrified blue eyes.
Whenever something in your mind comes to fruition, it will always be accompanied with something to show the importance of the revelation. It has a tendency to be a click or some annoyingly bright light bulb. The light bulb didn’t accompany my remarkable discovery, it was horror, and the consequences of knowing how things might just play out.
“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” screamed the androgynous bunny child as it ran to the nearest creek, in an attempt to warn the rest-what would likely be his family and friends to the danger of the scary man with a knife.
And in an uncanny unison, “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu…” I ran back towards the cave on my own to inform my acquaintances with information that would be incredibly helpful towards preventing a moral catastrophe on our part. In the middle of my iteration of breakneck speeds; I internally contemplate the best way to stop bad things from happening in the quietest, speedy manner, taking note that I have just entered the cavern. Exhaustion begins to catch up to me, specifically my lung area, as my speed takes a slight hit as it inclines down in levels of speed vs distance. Feeling the throbbing pain of my feet confined in shoes; I hear the loud echo of a smack enter my receptive range for hearing, prompting not only a small boost in speed but a direction to move towards.
I reach my destination to see a dismaying scene; Alana is heavily panting with several knife wounds on her body; Francisco is laying on the dead cold ground, luckily breathing, as I begin to catch glimpses, better described as black blurs, of the culprit responsible for this image. Seeing the black blur ready to take one of his daggers through the heart of Alana; I immediately conjure up the whip from my storage to ring the loud crack of the whip resounds the short retreat of the blurred figure. With a quick observation of his environment, noting that I was still running to regroup without a whip in sight, to take the time to once again follow its original course of the plan. It of human shape with a tail of its own takes the steps to make an even faster pace towards the impaling of my comrade (now to the face) as she begins to make her own statement on how stabbing should be done.
More than the dreadful sound of the *shunk* and tear register in my brain as I am still seeming to be processing the pain that comes with it, and still calculating the total damage of this development as I include the fresh new stab in my mathematics. The stranger sticks into my shoulder as I dodged the forward thrust to the back of my neck, resentfully thanks to the torture I was put through in the palace, while Alana happens to take the front when she decided to stab me as evidenced by the hole in my stomach, the touch of metal under the skin in my hand, my red blood smearing her polished knife, and the eyes of her showing complete confusion rather than dread.
If they both hadn’t decided to pull out (their knives) shortly after their realization, I might have just forgotten the pain for the minimum of one nanosecond. My blood spills onto the floor as a result of pulling a hard right for that previously mentioned fatal near miss, pain surges through my nervous system as my muscles spasm in the immense pain output I had to register just then. Both make their paces back-in classic dueling fashion-to the abrupt pause of me standing in between the both of them, against the advice of my currently screaming body as it howls about its pain to my appeal to pretend to pass out.
Alana’s expression takes a turn for the worse as she converts her bewilderment into a rage to hopefully take down the opponent that I am currently blocking access to. The black blur-now very hard to see considering his black garbs synergy with the darkness with the added bonus of standing still remains where he is in a fixed posture, showing its curiosity in the opportunity of this newly created scenario in the only limp I can visibly see clearly: its glowing eyes. Silence and immobility station themselves into the picture, allowing me to say, “Alana, trust me when I say that no matter what I do, don’t move.” Not allowed the time to even confirm whether she even decided to even follow my decision; I turn my head to face the stranger to gesture taking off my rings, a transfer from me to them, and the possibility of negotiations. The efficient fighter then gestures back his own set of commands: summon the knife, take off the ring, toss it over, stab me with the knife without flinching keeping eye contact, and they’ll think about it. Reluctance loads my mind, but decide that it would be much better than to incite something I would undoubtedly regret in that hypothetical future.
I conjure myself a knife, of the none magical variety, from the storage to heed to his demands, as I also conjured a potion and a belt to bite on, which I had to quickly return to the ring with his uncooperative attitude towards leeways. I quickly make an incision into the clothing, ripping it to make a bigger hole, bearing the skin that I would have to soon pierce as I sat on my feet with my knees on the ground. I establish eye contact with the contractor of this agreement, having the sharp knife end dance around my goosebump ridden skin. I flip the coin and direct my most neutral gaze towards the stranger as my mind screeched, “You’re signing your death warrant,” only serving to make me all the more reluctant of what is to come.
Gripping it with two sweaty hands; I raise the knife in decreasingly fast pace until I felt the blunt end of the knife’s hilt bump into my shoulder. That was the moment when I felt snake envelope around my arm to heighten the terror griefing my already devastated heart as it sunk into new lows, definitely reflected in my now swimming eyes. The slimy slithering on my arms was enough to send shiver from the bone to the soul as it continued to produce more second thoughts inside me. The snakes that I couldn’t see only seems to wrap around my arm in a stronger fashion, slowly restricting the already slow movement of my arms. Trying to push my arms downward, it only seems to be pushing at a wall of some sort, also beckoning more snakes to surround me, leading to more constricted limbs: legs, fingers, shoulders, back. Some even bound several of my internal organs like my lungs or spine.
I saw the stranger sigh deeply as if to say that he was disappointed in my display of gaining his trust, as was accompanied with of a snake now nibbling on one of my ear lobes, integrating itself as another anxiety in my performance. I continue to keep a neutral front in the light of my eyes, all while I felt the symmetrical presence of two individual snakes as they continued to wrap around my neck. These two snakes, after more rotations around my neck, faced each other at the level of eyes: the level of equal stature. The teal snake made a preemptive strike towards the snake of the darker shade of red, continuing conflict as I had to remain unmoving, restrained. The conflict between the snakes continued, stanching themselves in the other’s bite marks, the blood of their foe, but they stopped, then; they stopped fighting each other to look at me. Their piercing glares did more than just instill the ever-present concept of fear in my mind, they; the things forced me to conceive what would happen to me if I failed my objective: certain death. When both snakes, hungry for any substance of me to curb their hunger pangs, began lurching at me; the picture-perfect image of easy prey, trembling in a cowardly manner compared to the little rabbit I had frightened; I finally danced to the song.
*Shunk*
A song that contains all of the following: a tense and uncomfortable position in which many lives-of different personal evaluation-is at stake, the continued and careful dissection of a recent psychological trauma, the forcefully stifled howls of pain that is accompanied by the actions of (voluntary or not) self-harm, and the sudden disappearance of all what I would presume (and hope) to be imaginary- of all of the snakes that made it their purpose to torture me. The sudden alleviation of my sensorial conceived pain had also transferred over to silence my mind, cease my erratic heart palpitations, catalyst my thought process, lower my quantity of adrenaline, clear my eyes of weakness, and halt my nerve induced frenzy of my formerly shuddering clasped hands.
Despite all of these apparent and immediate changes after dancing with the melody, some things simply haven’t changed, much less could be said for ‘changing for the better.’ I am still bowing to the will of another person (very reluctantly), a person who has absolutely no qualms in ending all our lives for the sake of his treasured people, a feeling that I can both identify and respect. Adding to my long list of strategically hidden grievances, it serves none to still have a knife embedded in my leg, along with the pain and suffering it brought.
The stranger, with no hint of mockery in his tone, even going out of way think it was dangerously bordering an intonation of brief respect, stated, “No. More… Stand now, ” in terrible parallel world Spanish. I decided to heed his words, considering that the action of taking out a knife would indeed be indeed, filled with my wholehearted agreement. I quickly pull out the knife-moaning in pain this time around and took a moment in trying to stand in the leg I just stabbed myself. I was a painful endeavor, to say the least.
Me-still wobbling-listens to the robed stranger state, “Follow.” After his bold statement, it began to point its gaze at my female comrade: the one who looked like a ticking time bomb just ready to explode at a second’s notice, as if consigning her to the same order as well. Taking his time to point at the passed out Francisco his meaning became crystal clear: we’re to follow him if we want to take interrogations any further.
I then position my head to look at the furious face of Alana, her very demeanor permeated reluctant obedience, something I thought to be a very familiar as I sent a pleading a glance to just do what she was told. Following on my request; she began to pick up the passed out Francisco, taking the deep breaths one take in very deep bouts of sleep, being fashioned onto the back of Alana out of purposes of convenience, survival, and utility. Alana, seemingly calming down after seeing some results, takes her time to take some breaths of herself, swearing to herself to tread lightly, preferably with an extreme amount of caution. I followed her little show of determination by making a mantra: don’t fuck up, of my own.
All of us, warden and current prisoners, collectively moved deeper into the cave where we left behind the remaining speck of light any of us could see. This bothered our new master none, they not only easily identified where each path would take them, but also decided to keep a meticulous eye on their new set of prisoners. Maybe we weren’t chained literally, as the prisoners were only chained by the promise of what disobedience would beget, the idea of what was worse came to mind.