Life is— as anyone who has experienced it can attest—largely an appetizer.

You chew on the bits of it you like, sometimes it’s not what you were expecting, and you’re often required to share it with others. Occasionally you fill up on it, and other times you are left hungry, but overall, you spend most of it waiting for the main course.

It is that great, unknowable longing at the booth of existence and staring hungrily into the kitchen each time the door swings open, hoping your meal will filter to the table and you can get your just rewards. Many believe that the comparison to the appetizer is ridiculous, and that life is the entree. This is not true.

The dinner entree of existence is death. Or as it is famously called, ‘the final meal.’ Who calls it that, you may wonder? Never you worry yourself over those details and just accept that which is relayed here. What? Do you think someone is trying to hoodwink you?

Now, if life is the appetizer, and death is the full meal, then what, precisely, is dessert?

Dessert is dessert.

You should really stop trying to find meaning in everything and just enjoy something for what it is. Especially chocolate lava cake.

There is nothing so multiversally renowned, nor as commonly loved as dessert. Beings of every order and magnitude go absolutely bananas for the stuff, and there are, at last reckoning, over three-novemdecillion songs, poems and interpretive dances prevalent in the whole of existence dedicated to the stuff. Dessert is wonderful, and it is important to culture, art, language and mathematics. In fact, the entire order by which the multiverse itself is founded around is an extra-large hot fudge sundae.

…and dessert was precisely what Snooze encountered in short order inside of the home on Buttermilk Lane.

“Is this… ice cream?” she wondered aloud, though quietly, on account of needing to go unnoticed as she hid behind a door.

She’d discovered it and propped it open enough to see out of. It wasn’t until Bogbitro the Familiar scrambled past her and off into a different section of the house that she was able to turn around and view her surroundings enough to see a mountain of plastic containers stacked in a pyramid next to a broom and a mop.

Carefully, the god crept forward, examining the vessels with suspicion until she bravely decided to lift the lid of one and found the chilled contents of a one-gallon portion of marshmallow swirl.

“Why in the Many would this be here?” she said, scraping a bit of the stuff onto her finger and taking a tentative taste.

She shrugged.

“It’s not bad,” she said to herself in the dim, taking another helping. “Not great, but it’s impressive that it's staying cold in here.”

Unbeknownst to Snooze, the room she was in was designed in such a way that items stored within it would retain a chosen temperature, while allowing the user the ability to enter without being affected. This was marvelous for the consumption of ice cream, but unfortunate when cleaning, as the broom and mop handles were rendered frozen, and made chores a rather uncomfortable task. But, this was originally a broom cupboard, so it made sense that they would remain.

This room was Bogbitro’s personal “happy place.” Once a week, he would allow himself the vice to enter this chamber and retrieve one of the containers, consuming the contents to his heart’s content. He could not well abide extreme cold, save for the delicious allure of his creamy iced treat (a fact that made working directly with his master further problematic for other reasons).

Snooze eventually grew brave enough to exit the cupboard, and though this was an expressly dangerous mission, she couldn’t help but notice how unscary the home was on the inside. As has been mentioned, the outside was created to specifications that allowed a more nefarious lean, but the inside of the lair of the Nosferatu was downright cute.

The room she currently occupied appeared to be a drawing room, and though, with the curtains drawn tight it was dim, the faintly glimmering embers in the hearth offered a warm glow that seemed very pleasant–despite it being mid afternoon outside. There were two overstuffed armchairs near the fireplace, each with a different book sitting on a side table, though she couldn’t read the titles. In fact, books filled the entirety of the space, resting within the framework of large wooden bookshelves alongside different trinkets and tokens that told the tale of an explorer or perhaps a collector–rather than a creature within the realm of Fiendish sentiments. So true was it of the many plants that sat in pots or hung from brass hooks driven into the wall, creating a lush environment of health, warmth and happiness, overall.

Snooze couldn’t divorce this imagery from the idea in her mind of what she envisioned the Nosferatu was like: a massive half-demon, half-bald vampire with arms as long as its body and teeth jutting out from its lips like a warthog. The Familiar was not at all what she expected either and she was glad that the Scroll of Currents had given her a heads up about its existence, otherwise she may have mistaken him for his master and enacted her plan then and there.

She strolled through the room, careful to keep a hand on a spot beneath the shirt her Avatar form had produced for her.

Near one of the drawn windows, a small box caught Snooze’s eye. It wasn’t a particularly exhilarating style or make, and in fact, seemed quite ordinary and lackluster, especially considering that next to it was a glowing scepter of curious and obviously magnanimous power. However, something about the box drew Snooze in, and she approached it with all of the caution of a hungry squirrel. On closer inspection, the object was made of plain wood, scuffed and bruised with the passage of time, or perhaps an encounter with the bottom of a stairwell from the top of it. There were no markings, runes, locks, clasps or really anything that might command her interest save that it was indeed so usual.

This, however, didn’t deter our plucky heroine from wanting to get a gander on what all the fuss was that she’d created in her own mind. So she opened it.

The moment she had, the already dim room became even darker, and a hallowed, broken sound emitted from the box. Within was darkness, and she was sure—though she wasn’t sure how—that there was some screaming void contained inside. Peering further, she could see a minor glimmer, though it had the effect of appearing far, far away. Was this box a window into some other reality?

“Interesting,” Snooze muttered to herself, before shutting the box and watching as the room returned to its previous level of dimness. “That was strange.”

For good measure, she pocketed the object, stowing it away in her clothing, believing that perhaps this was worth further inspection at a later date—she was, after all, on a very important mission.

She began scouring the place briskly, attempting to wrest the location of her QUACK as swiftly as possible, while still avoiding the prowling gaze of the familiar called Bogbitro. She looked inside dusty armoires, behind myriad doors, and under the rugs. Nothing.

“Well, fiddlesticks,” she muttered, placing her hands on her hips and scowling at the house surrounding here. “Where in the damn could he be keeping her?”

A sound from the foyer caused Snooze to jump, and she quickly dove behind what at one time had likely been a luxurious couch. Carefully, she crawled under its substantial framework and slipped easily beneath the underside of the bit of furniture, watching the entryway of the home with careful consideration.

“Hello?” Came a voice. “Little one? You shouldn’t run rampant through others’ houses most-like. It’s a dangerous pastime, and not to mention rude. Just give me a shout as to where you are and I can lead you safely back to the doorstep.”

It was Bogbitro.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Snooze smirked. She’d been informed that as long as she kept the familiar on a wild goose chase, she’d be golden to investigate the house as she saw fit. It was made very apparent to her that Bogbitro, and familiar’s of his kind, were bound to assist as well as they could, and the only danger he truly posed was in chauffeuring her back outside with a high-level of polite apology. As long as she avoided capture, she’d be fine.

She waited a moment for him to pass through the room again, and then slid out from beneath the couch and scrambled back to her feet.

“Whew, that was a close one!” She breathed. Then she set her sights on the stairwell in the foyer, and allowed herself the suspicion that wherever her QUACK was being held was likely not on this floor. So, carefully tip-toeing along the floorboards, she made her way to the stairs. She glanced up as she reached the bannister and stared into…nothingness.

“That’s strange,” she said, giving herself a moment to see if it was in fact, just dark and her godly eyes might adjust. It was very much dark, and like the interior of the little box swishing around in her pocket, seemed as though it were an unwholesome darkness, not usual at all. Though, she reasoned, what had really been usual ever since she’d died?

“Little one?” Came a call from the drawing room she’d just left. “I’m becoming concerned that you’ve gotten yourself lost. If you require assistance, please say something.”

This won’t do, she thought to herself.

So, taking a deep breath, and staring back up into the void at the top of the stairwell, she made her decision and began creeping up the steps into the great unknown.

The moment she passed the threshold, she got very cold. It was uncomfortable, the type of chill that seeps into your bones, like the alleyway behind a petrol station in the middle of January. Worse yet, she was surrounded in complete, fully-encompassing darkness and couldn’t see a damn thing! She glared into the void, unsure of whether the move would help her or not, but was confident it seemed like the appropriate response to a rude bit of ensorcelling. She could still feel the steps beneath her and the bannister at her side, and so, quietly, she continued on, the cold growing more and more uncomfortable.

After a few more moments, she felt a heaviness rest atop her, like a blanket whose texture she couldn’t feel or see but she continued forward, aware that this could be some trick to keep ne’er-do-wells out of the secret lair of machinations her quarry’s captor undoubtedly kept. Continuing on, she resisted the urge to shiver. Not only was the cold setting in deeply, but fear and suspicion began to flood into her mind, and she had to force herself to stay the course lest she succumb to whatever effects the house had on store for trespassers.

When she was sure she reached the top, she stood for a moment to gather faculties and devote a full ten seconds to calming herself of the dread that seeped into her heart. She reminded herself that this was the domain of a Fiendish, and therefore she should be prepared for anything.

However, she was wholly unprepared for what she saw a few moments later. As she stepped forward into the unending void at the stop of the stairs, she came face to face with…herself.

A near-identical copy of her smiled back from the darkness, highlighted by some magical spectral spotlight that made her very apparent to even the least keen observer. It was her Avatar form, and though almost everything was exactly the same as what she herself had decided to adopt, there was one distinctly glaring difference: this Snooze’s hair was red.

“Oh,” Snooze said, stopping in her tracks and holding up a hand of greeting.

Play it cool, Snoozie-baby, she thought to herself. No reason to act off, this is just you, but ginger. Perfectly normal stuff.

“Hi, there!” Red Snooze greeted, flashing a full set of pearly-white teeth to go along with her bright eyes. “Whatcha doin’ ‘round here?”

Snooze, adopting an attitude that wouldn’t show how unsettled this made her, shrugged.

“‘Splorin,’” she said casually. “You?”

“Same, same,” said Red Snooze, cocking her head to the side. “Are you lost?”

“Nah, I’m just a little turned around, is all,” Snooze said. “Do you live here?”

The Red Snooze nodded, seeming eager to answer and pointed a thumb behind her into the darkness.

“Mr. Atu is a great boss, and lets me have full reign of the upper floor. It’s my favorite location in all of the Omni.”

“That is…” Snooze began, taken off guard by the comment. “...a tremendous advertisement. Well! I won’t take up any more of your time, but have you seen a QUACK up here? Tall, pretty, barrel full of laughs, probably a prisoner?”

Red Snooze nodded.

“I have seen a QUACK, yes,” she whirled her finger in the air indicating the whole space. “But not up here. Mr. Atu keeps all of his new friends in the Fridge. It’s in the basement.”

“Fridge?!” Snooze practically shouted, then regained her composure and chose simply to frown as a way of indicating her unhappiness with the statement. “Does that mean she’d been chopped up?!”

Red Snooze chuckled, and though it sounded just like Snooze’s own voice doing so, there was a subtle difference in tone that set her teeth on edge.

“No,” she said quietly. “Not yet, anyway. The Fridge is an area far below the lair. It’s not like one of those appliances you’re probably thinking of. It’s a large space with plenty of room for…”

She paused, trying to find the right word.

“...experiments.”

Snooze shuddered. She had to find this Fridge place and rescue her damsel in distress before something way, way worse happened to her.

“Okay, thanks!” Snooze said, turning in the direction that she thought might be back to the stairwell. “Thanks! See ya later Ginger Me!”

“Wait,” Red Snooze said, and though she knew she probably should have just booked it to the exit, the little god paused and turned, noticing with alarm that now the alternate version of her was much closer than before.

Creepy.

“What is it?” Snooze asked, putting a hand on the object under her shirt. I don’t want to have to use this, but I will if I’m backed into a corner.

“What’s your name?” Red Snooze asked, smiling sweetly. The real Snooze noticed that the action didn’t reach her eyes, however.

“Snooze,” Snooze said. “Nice to meet you! Gotta go!”

She turned and started to run through the darkness toward the stairs but slammed to a stop as she realized that now Red Snooze was directly in front of her, the same cold smile pressed into her features.

“Uh, can you move out of the way?” She asked. “I’ve got some tummy troubles and you’re not going to want to be around when that happens.”

Red Snooze cocked her head to the side again and then brought her hands up, lacing her fingers under her chin in a contemplative gesture.

“No.”

“Huh?” Snooze asked, her grip on the object under her shirt growing tighter. “That’s not very cool of you. I’ve really gotta find a toilet, I’m not kidding. It’s going to turn into a different kind of story if you don’t let me pass.”

“No,” Red Snooze said again firmly, smiling wide, and Snooze saw her eyes flicker with something like…was that fire? She gulped.

Oh, brother.

“You are going to stay here with me, Snooze,” the creature said, emphasizing her name almost menacingly. “Forever, and ever and ever. It’s been so long since I had anyone to interact with here, and I think you’ll make a fine set piece for my menagerie.”

“I’m not much for following rules, or being the boss,” Snooze said—misunderstanding the word to mean something to do with managers. “Me and my spoiled intestines will just be on my way. I’m going to say this in the nicest way possible, but kindly get the heck out of my dang way or I will bee-bop you out of existence!”

However, the coldness began to set into her body full force and through she didn’t actually have physical organs or bones inside her, she felt as though they were becoming frozen within her form. After only a brief interval, she could no longer move.

“There we are,” Red Snooze said, her voice dripping with scary malice. “Perfect. Now, you will be mine forever and ever, as I mentioned.”

Red Snooze took a step forward, her features shifting into something unrecognizable. Her face stretched, revealing several rows of eyes and a bird-like beak with razor sharp fangs dripping with some untold threat. Her body grew tall, nearly eight feet and broadened to the size of a bear. Her hands and feet turned to claws and from her back she sprouted two pairs of bony wings. Whatever this creature was, it was clearly not friendly.

Snooze couldn’t move, her grip still tight around the object she’d been holding on to, but without the ability to move, she wasn’t able to activate it. Dread seeped in again, and she cursed this stupid plan and her terrible ideas. She’d doomed herself, and because of this, likely doomed Grotto as well. She felt very foolish and stupid at the moment.

“Now,” said the formerly Red Snooze. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am the Harvester. Thank you for bringing yourself to me. It’s not often that I’m allowed anyone to join me up here, but when I do get the chance, I make the most of it.”

Snooze balked at the creature.

Mr. Atu keeps the strangest roommates, she couldn’t help but think.

“Now, then,” the Harvester said, drawing close to Snooze and smiling with all its razor teeth. With a pang of anxiety, Snooze realized that this time, the smile did reach its eyes. “Let’s get you sorted.”

“I DON’T THINK SO, BUDDY BOY!” Shouted a tiny, high-pitched voice.

There was pressure on Snooze’s shoulder, and out of her frozen periphery, she could see the diminutive form of a starfish-like creature climbing to the summit and puffing its eye-chest out proudly.

The Harvester froze, narrowing its eyes at the newcomer and baring its teeth.

“What is this little, ugly thing?” It asked, raising a claw to point at the other creature grandstanding on the little god’s jugular.

“I’M NOT UGLY! I’M ODD!” Odd declared. Snooze felt a rush of both fear and pride. The Archangel had been specifically requested to wait with the Scroll of Currents during this excursion. Now he was here, proudly boasting in the presence of a creature that could freeze a god, let alone a tiny speck of existence like him.

“You are indeed,” the Harvester agreed, before drawing itself up to its full height. “Unfortunately, I’ve only got one opening in my menagerie, so you’ll just have to die.”

“YOU WILL BE THE ONE TO DIE!” Odd declared, and Snooze had never in her life wished more that she could silence her gregarious companion.

“I will not!” The Harvester responded, almost petulantly. “You will!”

“NUH-UH!” Odd shot back, his single eye furrowed into a scowl. “I AM THAT WHICH UNMAKES LIFE, SHREDS THE COSMOS AND STARES BACK INTO THE CHAOS LAUGHING!”

The little Archangel released a peal of maniacal laughter as if to illustrate his claim.

“YOU WILL BOW TO ME, OR YOU SHALL KNOW THE TORMENT OF EIGHTY-BILLION SOUL-WRENCHING HORRORS!”

“I don’t think so,” the Harvester said, and reared back a claw to strike Odd. “I am the Harvester and—”

BOOM!

It had happened so fast, Snooze wasn’t sure if she’d actually witnessed it. But if it was an accurate assessment: Odd had leapt from her shoulder and kicked the Harvester right in the face, sending it pinwheeling backward mid sentence. He landed on the ground, drawing himself into a heroic pose and released another laugh.

“I TOLD YOU, KNAVE! I AM ODD. YOU, HOWEVER…ARE A GONER.”