The guards led them to the showers. Each prisoner went into one of the open cubicles and got out of their overalls. Lothar followed them and dumped his clothes inside one of the laundry baskets. He waited for an open vacancy before going under a shower head. He sighed as he let the cold water wash away the blood, sweat and grime covering his body.

Lothar didn’t feel comfortable being exposed, but it wasn’t like he could complain about it to someone.

His mind was still processing his first shift at the graveyard; apparently that’s what it was called.

He heard whispers of conversation between prisoners as the guards waited outside. The ones closest to him seemed not to care about confidentiality.

He pried his ears open for any information that could fill him in on the nature of this place. Maybe this dream was him trying to tell himself something, subconsciously–like maybe to stop wasting the little money he had on maintaining his rats’ playground.

“–Droj, talk to them. I need another hook.”

“What’s your taste like?” the thick accent belonged to Droj, the man who gave Lothar the shovel.

“Crusty, make it a double dose. My friend also sai–”

“Nah, your friend can come to say his business upfront.”

“He’s been sick these days, stuck in a cell with a fever that had made him unable to move. He needs a hit before it gets worse.” The man’s voice cracked as he begged.

“No, I don’t do backdoor deals. He either comes here himself or he dies sober.” Droj’s reply left little for negotiation.

The other guy cursed and turned off the faucet. Lothar waited a few seconds before doing the same.

Droj was apparently the drug supplier in this place, and from how forward their conversation was.

Lothar was dripping as he moved towards the door but stopped in front of one of the sink mirrors. He was startled by what he saw. His face was not his own, yet both shared an uncanny resemblance. The sharp face structure, slanted eyes, crooked nose, and chapped lips were the same as his but the skin was far paler as if he had been living inside a cave.

A specter of a shadow hung over his visage, casting dark bags under his eyes.

He looked colder and lost all the resemblance he had to his mother. He shuddered and broke his gaze away from the mirror.

Men called for him to move, so he walked out to the changing room where new Overalls waited with each of their nametags. He found it weird that the guards would just leave them here like this.

Lothar realized his name was not present, or that he did not know the name of the person this body belonged to. He cursed under his breath and waited on the side for all the prisoners to pick up theirs, pretending to be deep in thought. He missed his phone.

Droj walked up to him, a trail of water following him.

“You should dress, not show off junk. Some might think you’re inviting them.”

Lothar rolled his eyes and replied, “I can take care of myself.”

Droj shrugged and said, “That’s what we all say, but no one plays fair here.”

Lothar was putting up a false bravado. He was never a good fighter, but he can sometimes pack a good punch if his panic switch was flipped. He hoped it never would come to that.

Droj seemed to know him. Maybe he would mention his name if Lothar prolonged the conversation.

“Why did you call me scholar?” He deemed the question safe enough not to reveal too much of his cluelessness.

Droj was shaking the water from his hair like a dog, his leg slipping into his overalls. Lothar inwardly cringed at the lack of towels, which gave him another reason not to wear his overalls yet.

“You’re pretty stupid for a scholar. Why do you think? You take notebook of yours wherever you go, always writing something.”

Lothar awkwardly darted his gaze upwards after accidentally seeing the man’s package.

“Yeah, I like to document” He hoped the guy would take the bait. Droj snorted, completely dressed now “You seem too fascinated with who we shovel, always looking at them weirdly. I wonder, what’s so interesting about death?”

Lothar tilted his head slightly. The question perplexed him.

“Nothing. Death is the least interesting thing about these corpses.”

This time, Lothar didn’t lie. He was more interested in how or why they were so brutally killed rather than the fact that they died. Things die all the time. It was a tasteless fact, but a fact nonetheless.

“Do you know why they kill them?” He said.

Droj smirked “Maybe, why should I tell you?”

Lothar sighed. No free lunch and whatnot.

“I’m new here, so I don’t know how things run. Do you have a price or something?”

Droj shrugged, the interest he held in the conversation suddenly vanishing.

“I don’t do business with every joe around. I’m not as nice as I look.”

You look like the spawn of a demon and a goat.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

“Droj,” Lothar bit the inside of his cheek. There was a pattern to the animals’ deaths. He didn’t have time to study them when he was shoveling, but he knew that there was something.

“Only animals, right?” He didn’t see any human corpses, but he needed to know. The guards killed that last guy so easily. If this was real–Jesus, what was he talking about?

This is just a stupid dream.

Droj didn’t stop walking “Information here is not for free, scholar.”

Lothar cursed and turned to the pile of clothes. Only one was left. He walked towards it and picked up the overalls, underwear, and socks. He glanced at the name, memorizing it.

‘Vols Chathier’

Lothar later joined the other prisoners outside. The guards counted heads, then escorted them out after examining our pockets.

Ten minutes later, he was back in his cell. The Viking guy was also in his, but he was currently sleeping. Lothar struggled to gouge out his state, but as far as he can see he came back unhurt.

So it’s not some kind of Nazi-inspired laboratory? Well... I did only see animals in that tomb.

Dinner came later, Lothar just ate the bread, his appetite gone after the sights he saw today. He closed his eyes when the lights went off and tried to sleep, but he knew nightmares would come.

Nightmares inside dreams.

He felt the uncomfortable weight below his pillow. His arm involuntarily slipped and touched the book, but immediately stopped.

He just wasn’t ready to face the truth, not tonight at least. He promised himself that he would tomorrow.

.....

Lothar woke up standing. His eyes focused in a second and shifted to his surroundings; an endless and empty space.

He blinked, and in front of him appeared a young boy who barely stood above 5’5. He had short, cropped brown hair with one long red strand.

Big washed-out eyes shined in a glimpse of bored intelligence, and a smile stretched thin. Lothar knew him well. He missed seeing him terribly but chose to avoid his gaze.

“Hello Lothar–

“Please change forms” Lothar croaked out.

Jamie’s words halted. An instant later, the voice went a few octaves lower. A voice Lothar knew well and hated. He could lift his head to greet the face of his father.

“Better?” The familiar cruel smirk that perched his father’s meat curtains was absent.

Lothar nodded in a daze “This is actually happening?” he said that more to himself.

Lothar’s heart sunk the second he saw the white nothingness surrounding him; just like what the journal described. He had hoped that it would be another memory, trying to resurface. It wasn’t.

He couldn’t deny the obvious anymore, but he could be angry. And he was; Lothar was furious.

“Bloody fucking hell!” His voice boomed

“Is everything in the journal real? Jesus Christ! You’re the god that fucked me over, right? You and that asshole Vols,” He hissed through gritted teeth, “I need an explanation. Now.”

His voice came out cold but quavery, and he didn’t hide his shaking well.

His father grinned, the smile unnaturally touching his dead eyes.

“We’ll start with introductions. You can call me Tink.”

.....

Dear journal,

This will be my last entry, hopefully.

Today I woke up, again. Unlike the begrudging emotions that followed the curse of mortality, I awoke with a heavy weight off my heart.

You see, I met a god. He greeted me on the plains of endlessness, wearing the face of Selene; my beloved. Unlike the gods of great powers that bestowed great powers, this one didn’t play my insecurities like a cruel violin.

He offered me a one-sided deal; one that would condemn a human from a parallel earth but would get me out of this traitorous place.

The god filled me in on the man I would become, if I choose to. He was an average 27 year old physics teacher, with drinking problems. One living mother was what’s left of his family, and very few friends. He is terminally ill but still has around two decades, depending on whether lady luck bothered with him, if he took care of his body. It wasn’t what I imagined, but I didn’t imagine something like this would happen either.

It took me less than a second to come to a decision. It was a place where everyone was born equal. How could I not want to live there? My life is already over here.

I asked for a few minutes before departure so I could write this brief note to the man who will soon wear my skin.

Lothar Ardolf, I give you my word of honor, as I swear to you upon my wretched soul, that I will take care of your family, friends and students.

I have none of those, unfortunately. Only Selene. Never meet her, I beg of you.

Forgive me, I am a selfish man.

.....