The clock struck 11:00 and Darlene looked over at her oven. How did she mess that up, she wondered. She was sure she had timed out the turkey so it would be done before the 12:00 dinner, yet the timer said there was 1 hour and 45 minutes left to cook. She checked her rolls and they were raising perfectly. They would be ready to go in on time, but that turkey worried her. In Darlene's world, you don't undercook turkey. Jeremy was turning 18 today. It had been a difficult year, 2020, and Darlene was determined to give her youngest son the best birthday she could. All her other children were given large parties on their 18 th birthdays, but the health regulations forbid it during these pandemic times. So, Darlene had to opt for making his favorite meal and buy all his gifts on the internet. They might even try a virtual interaction with his grandparents, but Darlene had her doubts that would work. Neither were really comfortable with new technology. The phone rang just as Darlene was about to drain the potatoes to be mashed. She turned off the burner and walked over to the phone to look at the caller ID. It was Jeremy's girlfriend, Carla. Darlene hesitated. Should she answer it? Jeremy has a cell phone, why wouldn't Carla call him on that phone? Darlene picked the cordless phone off of its charger. “Mrs. Tyson?” Carla asked, her voice stressed and concerned. “You need to go to Jeremy's room immediately.” Darlene turned and ran towards the stairs. “I'm going there now. What is going on?” “I was talking to Jeremy on the phone when suddenly he dropped it. He sounded a little strange right before he dropped the phone. I don't know what is going on and it scared me so much I called the house.” Darlene burst into her son's room and found him flat on the floor, jerking back and forth. “He is having an epileptic seizure,” she said into the phone. “Oh my God,” cried Carla. “Is there anything you can do?” Darlene knelt down on the floor next to the dark-haired boy. She moved his hand so that the arm was at a right angle to his body, his hand pointing upwards. Darlene then took Jeremy's other hand and placed it on his cheek. She took the knee furthest from her and bent it so that the foot was flat on the floor. Gently, the mother rolled the young man onto his side so that he was facing her. Darlene then moved his top leg back a little to help balance him in that position. The woman then went to his head and tilted his chin back to open up his airway so he could breathe. By this time Jeremy was beginning to come out of the seizure and stopped moving. His eyes slowly fluttered open. “Stay still, Jeremy,” Darlene said as she sat on the floor next to him, her hand resting on his arm. She noted his breathing was normal. “Mom,” he muttered. He sat up slowly, still blinking his eyes as he became more aware. “Mrs. Tyson? What is going on?” Carla's frantic voice came through the phone line. “I'm sorry, Carla. Jeremy is just coming out of the seizure now. It is going to take a little time for him to orient himself.” “I didn't know Jerry had epilepsy,” Carla exclaimed. “What if that had happened when we were together? I would have had no clue what to do to help him!” Panic was in her voice. “He hasn't had one in a long time, I am sure he was thinking it was completely under control with his medication. We can talk about how to help him later. Right now I have to make sure he's OK before I rescue any of my food that may be burning at this time.” “Have him call me back when he's doing better. I don't want to bother him now.” “Carla? Thank you for calling me and letting me know something was wrong. Your quick thinking may have prevented him from hurting himself and alerted me to the fact this condition isn't under control.” “You're welcome. I'm glad this turned out alright. Have him call me when he feels better.” Carla hung up the phone. “Mom, I'm feeling fine now,” Jeremy said as he stood up from the floor. Darlene looked at him, trying to determine if he was back to normal. He smiled at her and reached out his hand. His grip was firm. Darlene was sure he was OK. “How long has it been since the last seizure,” she said once she was standing up. Jeremy walked over to his desk and pulled out a black notebook from the top drawer. He turned the pages until he came to a chart. “5 years, Mom. 5 years, 6 months, 10 days to be exact. Do you know the type of seizure this one was?” Jeremy was making notations on the page as he spoke. “No, I came towards the end of it. You collapsed and were jerking around a little bit, but not as bad as some of the other times I found you.” Jeremy wrote some information down. “Looks like we will be visiting Dr. Nordahl sometime in the near future,” he said as he closed the book. “Thanks, mom, for being here when I needed you.” “You better thank Carla as well. She's the one who called me and alerted me something was happening.” Darlene looked at her watch, “Oh no! I've got to get back to the kitchen and try to salvage this meal! Do you think you will be up to eating?” “Yes, Mom. I'm fine now. You go back to the kitchen and I'll call Carla and let her know everything is better. I'm sure she's worried.” Darlene gave Jeremy a kiss on the forehead before leaving him in his room. Once in the kitchen, Darlene looked at the oven timer and found she still had 15 minutes left on the turkey so she put the rolls into the oven and set the second timer. She then hurriedly mashed the potatoes and put them aside and started the stuffing. Meanwhile, she put the green beans on, the corn, and the canned cranberry sauce. When the turkey was done she pulled it out of the oven and verified the temperature gauge said it was 165 degrees inside the bird. She then punctured the oven bag it was in and drained off the juices so she could make the gravy. Soon that was done and it was time to finish setting up the table. Scott joined her and together the parents finished setting the table. Scott had been delivering mail and managed to finish his route before noon. He was able to get home in time for the meal but had to go back to the post office in an hour. As they worked together, Darlene told him about the seizure. He nodded when Darlene told him Jeremy would need to see his doctor as soon as possible. The timer went off and Darlene gave Scott the turkey and utensils to carve it while she rang the old dinner bell Scott's family had used on their farm when he was growing up. Jeremy came running down the stairs, followed by his older brother Craig, who was home taking virtual college classes. The other 4 children in the family would not be able to attend the meal, due to health regulations and not being a part of the family bubble. After they sat down at the table, Scott asked Jeremy to say the prayer for the meal. The young man bowed his head, cleared his throat, and said, “Thank you Lord for this fine meal my mother managed to prepare despite being interrupted to rescue my sorry ass. Thank you for creating her so she could create me and so she could make this marvelous meal. Thank you for the food we are about to eat, for keeping me alive for another day, and for the love of this family who has always been here to support me. We pray to you, Lord, in your son's name, Jesus Christ, Amen.”


Outside snow fell softly to the ground. It almost floated as it covered the sandy dunes on the other side of the boardwalk. Winter at the shore was rather surreal as the town was practically deserted outside of summer. What kind of lives did these people, left behind to maintain it until it could come alive again, live? *** Kelpy looked down from their summit, the lithe strong frame posing triumphantly, “I told you, fortune favors the bold!” “I swear that arm of yours is cheating. It could prolly grab the bare wall and hold on. You know that wasn’t how the routesetter envisioned it right?” Her belayer yelled back up the wall at her. He slowly let the line out as she repelled back down. “Don’t be such a spoilsport. Just because I beat your dumb challenge in a way that didn’t fit your vision doesn’t take away from it.” “Yeah yeah yeah. I’m just hoping next month’s competitors don’t exploit it the way you do.” “Don’t worry Bads, your routes will be fine. I’m just a bit of an outlier. She knocked on the cybernetic arm. Besides you know The Federation doesn’t allow augs to compete.” “That may be true, but it’s still a blow to the ego.” He sticks out his tongue. “Besides, the aug circuit is rumored to get started in a few years in Khartoum. I’m sure you’ll tear through the challengers, Kel.” She laughs and undoes her harness and takes off the forcefully arched shoes. “Nice of you to say that, but at forty six I’m past my prime. Professional augs will have way more done, and I’m not looking to get more silicon, y’know. Only have this cause of the explosion.” “True. Just wish you could be a bit more known is all Kel, you deserve it. Anyhow, lunch and then open the place up?” “Sounds like a plan.” The two got out of their equipment and headed to the communal break room behind the counter area of Mainsail Park Quintessential Elevation Gym, or MPQEG for short. Bads had opened the gym years ago to train himself since there was nothing in the area and climbing actual rocks had become quite dangerous after they burned the sky. He discovered that contrary to popular belief, managing a place like this takes away from precious wall time even if he lived there. Kel had joined on a few months ago. Apparently no one wanted to hire a reformed convict. As she tells it, she accidentally threw a bit of dynamite out of a car she had stolen and ruined some classic Grecian concrete facade of a historic building. A count of grand theft auto and reckless endangerment later landed her behind bars for thirteen years. It was hard to believe that she had been behind bars for the entire run of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. She often said it was the worst of times, but she got through by being as clever as a jackdaw and as fierce as a wyvern. She had been upfront about the void on her resume and had great people skills too when he trialed her out. Her blithe demeanor made customers forget about the world outside while they were here. It was an easy hire. It took some time for her to get used to living at the gym since affording a private residence was nearly impossible for any but the elites. She’d often ask questions like Is there a chemist shop nearby? or Is the chimney supposed to be blocked? The answers which were no and yes, unless you want your lungs to corrode respectively. She had gotten used to the place quickly and even gotten to know the other people in the area. “What’s in the lunchbox today?” Bads asked, pulling out a ham sandwich. “Apfelstrudel, chocolate truffles, and sugar cookies with ginger frosting.” “You should probably eat something more than desserts, you know.” Mouth full, Kel muttered something unintelligible as sweet crumbs fell to the table. “Try that again as a civilized adult?” “They are too delicious not to. Plus we get plenty of nutrients from the shipments from Halex. Let me enjoy something I missed for a long time.” “Given the chance I am sure you’d enjoy these things until the inevitable heat death of the universe.” “Fuck yeah I would.” *** “Cody. Cody! CODY!” the voice cut through my concentration. I shook my head and put the snowglobe down. “What? Sorry. I got distracted.” “I noticed. You have to submit that story for the Secret Santa. Did you get any ideas?” “I think so. Post apocalyptic sci-fi action story about a small business and a blooming romance should be good?” “In 800 words? I don’t think you can do all of that It'll end-"     This was written for the Secret Santa Event. If you want slightly more coherent stories, maybe go check out r/FoxFictions.


Kioko sighed heavily, each step she took a little weaker than the last, until she finally reached the elevator. She was exhausted, but ready for another day at work, though she toiled away each day at her office. It was hard, but she enjoyed what she did, to an extent. The elevators had large windows that reflected the skyline of the beautiful Tokyo, the glistening sun bouncing light from the buildings, reflecting onto the glass. Kioko smiled as she stared out the window, her exhaust briefly wavering. She always enjoyed the sunshine. The sun was always there, when other people weren’t. It stood by her side, making her feel warm inside. Unlike the moon which wavered and changed, Kioko could always rely on the sun. Then again, she could always rely on the moon to change, too. When change was what she needed, Kioko always felt her heart drift towards the night sky, with it’s graveyard of stars and it’s obscure pale sickle. It was comforting in a way, too, to know that every night the sky would be different. She could rely on the sun for familiarity, but the moon for it’s ever changing nature. But of course, there was that one night, all those years ago, where neither the sun nor the moon could bring her comfort any longer. The night when she lost everything, when she realized her true power. When she gained an ability, one that no one else, to her knowledge, also had. The ability to control the sky, in all its forms. To manipulate the weather. Kioko remembered that night very well. She remembered the darkly lit sky, and the sounds of the thunder up above her. She remembered the lightning, cruel and beautiful, and the sensation she felt as she ran through the rain, the pitter patter of raindrops hitting the streets. She remembered slipping on something, and falling. Falling, falling, falling, until she was on the ground. She remembered the feeling of terror she felt as the lightning grew closer, as the sky closed in on her. She remembered the coursing of electricity through her body as she felt the lightning in her heart, in her soul. She felt tainted by the sky in that moment, like she’d never be complete again. And then she remembered screaming, screaming and screaming out the pain that she felt, the salt water from her tears mixing with the freshwater from the rain. She remembered the light of the moon echoing out through her body as she felt the surge of power, power and pain go through her. And then the storm stopped. The clouds brought themselves together again, the moon smiled, and the lightning faded away. Kioko felt sheltered, at last. But somewhere, deep inside, she knew that she wasn’t safe anymore. That nothing would be the same again. Kioko looked out again through the large walls of the elevator. Even though they were glass, she felt as if they were closing in on her. Suffocating her, reminding her of the night, and the pain that she felt as the energy coursed through her veins. She sighed heavily, thinking about that night. The walls felt just like the sky did all those years ago, pushing her inwards until she throttled through the energy she felt. The sky started to darken, the clouds folding in on themselves and turning a sober grey. Kioko started to cry again, her tears reflecting the rain that began to start spilling from the clouds outside. Her long dark hair clung against her shoulders, as Kioko slouched down and curled into a ball on the floor, feeling as if she was falling. Falling, falling, falling, she had all those years ago. Her once calm and rhythmic breathing turned into frantic gasps for air, as Kioko continued to remember everything that had happened. She thought about how she would panic like this again and again, causing tsunamis and thunderstorms. Ruining people’s lives as hers had been ruined by that storm that cursed her. And the worst part was that she had no control. Her panic would always rise above her fear, her past and her future going on a race against time, a race she would always lose. Oh, how Kioko hated time. It did nothing but slap her in the face with adversity. The rain continued to pour, the echoing of the splats onto the sidewalks growing louder and louder. Kioko had no control - she was trying and trying to calm herself, but nothing would happen. “Breathe,” she said to herself, biting back her tongue. “Just breathe, Kioko. Just breathe.” Her tears grew harder with the rain, as she thought about that line. How she wanted to breathe so badly. How she was forced to just breathe or else inflict death upon innocent people by way of storms. Each time she heard about another person who died, another human being, she couldn’t breathe. They were gone, and it was all her fault. She would cry and cry, but it only would cause more death. She was cursed, ever since that lightning struck her. Cursed to become a killing machine, no matter what she did to try and stop it. Sometimes, Kioko wondered whether there were any lightning bolts she caused that gave others her powers. She wondered if hers were given to her by another poor cursed soul, who wanders the streets at night gloomily through a little foggy rain. Happiness would cause fleeting sunshine, a comfort to Kioko, but deathly to some. Panic would cause storms, but sadness would just cause simple drizzling night rain. Safe, but not favored. Not reliable. Not welcome. But it was the only time she could breathe. The only time when she couldn’t feel the suffering of others, just her own pain in her heart, telling her she had to move on. It was the only time that she could truly survive. Kioko’s breaths started to resurface, as she counted them, slowly. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Repeat. Again and again. She was being tortured by her own self, but at least she could breathe again. At least she wouldn’t cause anyone any harm. Just a simple little drizzle. The clouds were still grey, but they revealed the sun out from behind them, shining luxuriously through Kioko’s sorrow. Comforting her at last, but keeping her hopeless enough for the moon to come out at night. A single tear dropped down Kioko’s cheek, causing a sprinkle of bitter rain.


Hey guys, This is another piece I've written involving the character of Attacus. A servant to the gatekeeper who controls passage to the afterlife. It's a older piece, so it may be a bit rough around the edges, but I particularly enjoyed writing the action scene between Attacus and Annaculeese at the end. As always, I appreciate any thoughts or feedback you might have on the piece, please let me know what you think. Cheers, Lordchimp   In the glorious woodlands, neither in the Midland or the Afterverse, he found Annaculeese and his men. Their camp was large and proud, with at least fifty tents and fifty fires. They were all laughing and joking, merry and joyful with fine ale, delicious food, wonderful music and plenty of singing and dancing. There were humans here, as well as elves. A pity. Humans have very short lives. He made no attempt to conceal himself, or to avoid detection as he approached the huge gathering. After all, he was chosen by Oronus himself, the gatekeeper. \*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\* Izael glanced back to the festivities and sighed heavily to himself, leaning heavily on his spear with annoyance and weariness. The other guard on the perimeter, Novak scoffed to himself and spat on the ground with venom. “It’s not pitting fair. Why should we have to stay on guard while those lot are enjoying themselves?” Novak grumbled, angry notes leaking into his voice as he spoke. “Because, every elf and every human must do his part. It is just unfortunate that we happen to have been fated for this eve.” Izael replied calmly and lazily, fairly confident that he had already explained this to his mortal companion. He looked over at Novak again, who looked lustily over to the camp before spitting onto the earth again. Izael stopped the laugh, but couldn’t prevent a warm smile from emerging onto his face. Novak was much like a dog in some respects, angry and unable to see the big picture, not caring for manners and etiquette. He was brash and almost too honest, not attempting to hide his faults and flaws. But, he had a few of the good traits from the beasts as well, sharing their fierce loyalty and unwillingness to give up on a fight. Novak was making no attempt to perform any guard duties and instead had leaned onto a nearby tree taking a sip out of a waterskin that Izael suspected was not full of water. He smiled again and allowed himself to relax. There was nothing in these woods that would harm them, and even if there was, nothing could be stupid enough to approach their camp. *For there be gods here.* He thought to himself. Then he heard the distant clank of chains. He stopped leaning on his spear and cocked his head, unsure if he had actually heard the sound, or if he had dreamily imagined it. He listened carefully, straining his ears for more telltale noises. But, after a few moments, only the quiet sounds of the woods rang through the night. Izael relaxed again, returning to his spear and sighing once more. “Did you hear that?” Novak suddenly whispered, his eyes now trained on the trees ahead of them. A few moments passed. Nothing. “You are hearing things-” Izael started. “No! There it is again! Can’t you hear it?” Novak said in his hushed tones. The clanking of chains rattled, still faintly in the distance. The noises were getting closer. “I hear it.” Izael stood tall, with his spear held firmly in his right hand, with his left he raised it up to his chest. With a few whispered words of power, his hand began to glow with a soft blue light. All the while, the rustling of metal drew nearer. He moved his hand in a sweeping motion, like a man scattering seeds, causing flames to burst into existence on the edges of the camp. The fires illuminated a wide arc around the camp with yellow flickering light, but nothing but the trees were there. Both of them scanned the outskirts intently, searching for the source of the mysterious clanking. As it got nearer and nearer, unseen bells began to chime. They started as a tuned symphony, which was a wonderful mixture of different notes and pitches. But they cascaded quickly into a concatony of jarring, mismatched tones, which clashed and rang out against each other harshly. Izael looked to Novak with concern heavy in his eyes. “Get to the camp. Sound the alarm.” Novak nodded, his face stained by fear and panic and began sprinting off towards the festivities. The Bells stopped. When Izael looked back to the trees, his breath was taken away in a gasp of sheer terror. All the air left his lungs and he felt his hands and body grow weak. In all of his years of living, he had never seen a more dreadful sight. A figure stood, shadows emanating from his body, curling around his feet like a thick, black smoke. He wore dull, worn, scratched armour all over his body, not a single piece of flesh or skin showed. A cloak of pure darkness hung over his shoulders, with the shadows twisting and coiling at his feet. Soft blue light gently pulsed in his visor slit, the only thing on him that wasn’t black. “By the Gates...” Izael whimpered. The figure looked around lazily, completely unconcerned with the trembling spearpoint that was pointed at him. His hidden glare seemed to pierce deep into Izael, almost as if he was looking *into* him, not *at* him. When he spoke, his voice seemingly came from everywhere and nowhere, echoing all around, but barely audible. “WHERE IS ANNACULEESE?” Even the sounds of words forming sent spikes of horror shooting through Izael’s blood, it was like speaking to the physical manifestation of fear itself. He found himself struggling to think, struggling to talk and it took him a few moments before he could bumble the words out of his quivering lips. “In the center...the ring of the sun...by the gates save me...” He managed to whisper. He dropped the spear onto the rough forest floor and fell to his knees, hands clasped together tightly, words of desperate prayer spilling out uncontrollably. Sobs racked his body as his mind attempted to grasp the concept of his impending death. All of his memories, all of his experiences, all his passion would be gone. Snuffed out. Extinguished. The bells began to toll again, ringing, crashing, chiming, building and building in volume until it was deafening, drowning out everything else that might have been making noise. Izael closed his eyes. Then, as quickly as the jumble of conflicting bells had arrived, it vanished. Through panicked breaths, he slowly, opened one of his eyes. Nothing. No black figure, no bells sounding, no chains clinking. Just an empty section of forest, the tree branches swaying softly, as if nothing had happened. As if the Gatekeeper’s man hadn’t just been there. He could hear distant screams from the camp, the sounds of joviality and merriment fading and the sounds of terror and fighting emerging. *What have I done?* Izael’s body was racked with silent sobs. *What could I have done?* \*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\* Attacus moved through the camp like a dancer through a ballroom, after all, why shouldn’t he? The chosen of Oronus may walk where he please. The occupants of the camp were in a state of utter panic at the sight of the black clad warrior, elves and humans screaming and running, trying anything possible to get away from the shadow of death. Terror seemed to protrude from his horrifying form, seeping into the hearts of all who were nearby. There were a few brave, stupid souls who thought that they could fight him, even hold him back. They were woefully nieve. Such unfortunate creatures. A man known as “Shatterhand” was one of them. He was said to be the strongest of all the beings on the camp, save for Annaculeese himself. He had killed over two hundred men in battle and he had looked upon the tears of the gods themselves. Shatterhand had steeled himself, pushing down the feelings of fear that had welled up inside of him, the feelings that had threatened to send him to his knees weeping. He had looked death in the eye more than once, he was ready to do so again. In a painfully casual motion, Attacus glanced at the hulk of a man stood before him, roaring his defiance. He was at least a foot taller than Attacus, with much more muscle. Attacus waved his hand offensively lazily, and the man called Shatterhand erupted in an explosion of black smoke, spraying blood and gore onto the dry forest floor. In one little movement of his hand, he extinguished the spark of a mortal, utterly and completely. This happened to the few who stood in his path, either a wave of the hand, a click of his armoured fingers or a sharp nod of his head. No matter the method, the result was the same. Death. He strolled all the way through the camp, only killing those which opposed him. He had no feelings on the matter, because Attacus could not feel, he could only do. After all, he was bound to serve. He eventually reached a ring of trees that sat in a calm pocket of quiet, away from all of the chaos of the encampment. It was like walking through a curtain of gentle air, for once Attacus entered the ring of trees, everything he saw was bathed in a bright light. His monochrome vision was splashed with detail and sharpness, whites and blacks he saw seemed so detailed, more vibrant inside the circle, like he had entered a different world entirely. Even his jet black armour seemed to be made up of a hundred different shades of grey. It made him pause for a moment, contemplating what exactly his eyes were seeing. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” A serene voice asked, interrupting his thoughts. It was like a tranquil song when he spoke, like every syllable was it’s own sweet form of poetry. The voice belonged to an elf with a simply perfect appearance, who was sat cross legged on a huge boulder with his arms resting on his lap and his long silver hair flowing down his face, covering one of his eyes. There was not a single part of his appearance that was not perfect, even the long scar down his cheek seemed like it had been put there intentionally to give his face strength and character. “ANNACULEESE. I HAVE COME FOR YOU.” Attacus boomed, his voice echoing all around, from everywhere and nowhere. The bells chimed softly. “It is a shame... You come on behalf of Oronus do you not?” Annaculeese sang, standing himself up as he spoke, seemingly unworried about his impending death. “YES.” Annaculeese looked around at the beauty that surrounded him, savouring the sights, drinking in everything his senses would permit. He reached out gently and grabbed hold of a leaf that hung off a low branch near him. He rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger, breathing in deeply as he felt every texture of the smooth leaf. “THE GATEKEEPER DEMANDS YOUR SOUL.” Attacus boomed again. “Do you ever stop to think why? Or what he plans to do with it?" There was a significant pause. It was a good few moments before Attacus answered. “I DO NOT QUESTION. I OBEY.” Annaculeese seemed to understand his response, nodding his head slightly. “Maybe you should. Even pawns can make moves.” He said solemnly. With a sudden flourish, he clapped his hands together which created a burst of blinding white light. In an instant, the light had faded and his hands now gripped a long, slim, curved sword which gleamed and shone with a soft, pure radiance. “RESISTANCE IS USELESS.” Attacus said, his voice booming, but lacking any emotion or passion. He reached out a hand, as if to touch Annaculeese, even though he was on the other side of the ring of trees. Then, he violently clenched his fist. Nothing happened. Annaculeese still stood there, completely intact with his sword raised in front of him. Attacus cocked his head ever so slightly, in mild confusion. He was expecting a bloody mess where his opponent stood and yet, he remained intact. “You cannot draw upon his power. Not here.” Annaculeese stated solemnly. Attacus drew his wicked, long, heavy blade from his back with the clinking of heavy chains echoing around him. “SO BE IT.” Attacus exploded into a sprint, the chains clanging with every step he took on soft earth of the forest floor. Annaculeese roared with desperate rage and fear, swinging his blade in spinning arcs, making the air whistle as it swirled around. When he was only a few more mere strides away, that was when Attacus struck. He swung his dark greatsword like a woodsman might swing a hefty axe into a tree, with the full weight of his body behind the blow. Annaculeese danced backwards, exploding with sudden movement and turned the blade upwards with a hiss, but the heavy blade was much harder to parry away than he expected and it smashed into his shoulder with a glancing crash of metal on metal. The instant before the steel landed, a golden shoulder pauldron flickered into existence and was then sent spinning from his body as the swing knocked it cleanly away. Annaculeese danced further backwards, shock evident in his anxious eyes. If it weren’t for the armour, he would undoubtedly be missing a large chunk of his shoulder. Before Attacus could wind up another brutal swing, Annaculeese dived forwards, thrusting his glowing blade towards Attacus’ breastplate with lightning speed. Attacus took his sword in a peculiar grip, with one of his hands on the hilt and another on the blade. He then jerked the steel to the side in a sharp motion, slapping the stab away. Annaculeese had already skipped to the side with a beautiful grace, slashing at his helm, his leg, then thrusting again at his chest. Attacus managed to turn the first two blows aside, but his heavy blade was too slow to stop the thrust. The glowing sword rammed into his armour with a horrific screech, then erupted in a huge blast of crackling lightning. Attacus was thrown twenty feet from the force of the explosion, small flickers of electricity arcing from him into the ground. He crashed into the mud with a dull thud, he did not groan or grunt with pain however, like any normal man would, he merely got to his feet slowly and stared at his adversary with a newfound wariness. He glanced down at his chest plate, surveying the damage. Although the had blade only scratched his thick armour, the lightning had gouged out a large chunk on his right side, exposing the dull grey metal underneath the black outer layer. It was as if a giant fist had torn the metal away with an ugly tearing swipe. Annaculeese smiled and began spinning his sword again. He ran forwards and began a series of slashes and cuts, whipping his blade across Attacus in a furious salvo. He gave ground and defended well, using his strange double handed grip to block the slices that he could not step away from. However, his thick armour was not meant for deft movements, especially when he could not draw from the Gatekeepers power. One of the swipes made it through his defence, scraping against his leg plate with a ear-piercing shriek. Once again, there was another crackling burst of angry lightning, which carved a neat line deep into his plate. He backed off, trying to make space, but the swift blade of Annaculeese followed him mercilessly. After taking another glancing cut, he changed tact. He deliberately left his leg open, using a high stance to fend off the never ending blows. As predicted, Annaculeese took the bait, feinting one way, then cutting savagely downwards, causing another vast crater in his armour with the hiss of metal on metal, and the raging hum of twisting electric. Then Attacus made his move. He suddenly shot forwards, despite the mighty blow to his leg and smashed his helm into Annaculeese’s face. A golden helm flashed into being just before the impact, but the sheer force of the headbutt made it crack with a sickening crunch. Attacus pounced on the elf, like a wolf that senses it’s prey weakening. He reigned a fusillade of heavy, powerful chops onto his surprised victim with relentless pace, cracking yet more pieces of armour when Annaculeese could not parry the hits aside. With a titanic swing, he sent Annaculeese flying into the dirt with golden pieces of his shattered chest plate spiraling through the air, the golden light catching on the gleaming shards of metal, making them twinkle and sparkle as the tumbled. Annaculeese had lost an arm piece, a leg plate, his breastplate and his helm was now missing the left side from the headbutt, crimson blood flowing slowly from a deep cut on his forehead. Annaculeese by some feat of determination managed to rise to his feet, groaning and cursing under his breath. At some point during the clash, he had dropped his sword, the blade sat on the ground still resonating with a quiet hum. He looked at Attacus, who was stood motionless in his battered armour, smoke curling from the great craters that had been smashed into it. He moved over to his sword, in an awkward, jerking gait from his missing armour. Attacus made no move to stop him. “Do you know why Oronus wants my core?” He said though pained breaths, still walking towards the sword. Attacus said nothing. “I will tell you something now, servant of the gatekeeper.” He spat out a mouthful of blood as he picked up his blade. “To stand at the behest of another, using an oath as a shield, does not mean you have no choice.” He looked upwards at the beautiful colours mixing in the branches. Attacus strode forwards, sword raised high. His blade fell at lightning speed, making even the air shriek as it cut through it. Annaculeese swayed to one side sluggishly and feebly parried the blade, embedding it into the dirt with a thud. But instead of digging the blade out, the black clad warrior rammed his shoulder into the wounded elf, sending him stumbling backwards with his arms flailing searching for balance. There was a scrape as the tip of the great two handed sword was dragged out of the earth, then another whistle as he slashed again. Annaculeese parried once, twice, then another powerful swing clashed into his blade and his tired, weak fingers were unable to hold on. The sword span out of his hand clattering to the floor a few feet away. He sank to his knees, his vision blurring from fatigue. Attacus looked at the sorry sight before him and sheathed his wicked sword, the metal sounding like it was angry at being caged before the work was done. He stomped forwards, with no passion or fury in his gait, just a disturbing, clear minded focus. There was no malice. It was like a carpenter hammering a nail, or a blacksmith shaping a horseshoe, just a task to be done. He grabbed the groaning elf by the neck and dragged him, kicking weakly and struggling feebly to the end of the circle. Attacus did not care for his soft pleading and bargaining, his sweet honeyed words meant nothing to him. It was like trying to reason with a clock to stop ticking. As soon as they left the circle of trees, the drab, undetailed monochrome shades returned into Attacus’ vision, making him pause for a second to adjust. Everything that once was sharp and focused inside that ring of trees was now bland, simple and dull. Annaculeese groaned again and attempted to remove the iron grip around his throat, batting and pulling at the gauntleted hands with his remaining strength. It was like a babe trying to struggle against a giant. He dragged the helpless elf a few more meters before dumping him unceremoniously onto the ground, coughing and spluttering. With a small flourish of his hand, a jet black lantern puffed into being with a loud ring of a low bell and a small explosion of black smoke. “Once more I gaze again into oblivion, once more I face the void.” Annaculeese whispered quietly, in barely audible tones. Attacus held up the lantern, it swinging gently from the motion. There was a rattle of clinking, heavy chains as the lantern began to glow with an eerie green light, it hummed with a dark power. At first, it was barely audible over the rattling of metal, but as the seconds passed, it got louder and louder, drowning the clinking out. Annaculeese was groaning, trying to get away, but the vice-like hand of Attacus held him down firmly. He tried to speak again, but his lungs felt like they had no air to breathe. They heaved and heaved but no breaths would come. His eyes started to glow, turning green, mirroring the lantern’s light. The humming grew louder and louder, turning into a piercing whine which could set anyone’s teeth on edge. It was sharp and shrieking, like fingernails on glass, like a blade on stones. After a few moments, a green shimmering image seemed to form around Annaculeese, like a second skin, mirroring him completely. His body seemed to go pale, as if the colour itself was draining out of him, turning him as white as a ghost. The after image’s face began to twist and snarl, fighting desperately against the pull of the lantern’s horrifying light. It was his soul. His very soul was being pulled into the dark, battered lantern. It was getting further away from his body with every passing second, where once it was fighting, forcing itself away from the pull, it was now wide eyed in horror, it’s hands desperately struggling against the air, searching for anything that grant it purchase against it’s impending fate. But, this was the Lantern of Oronus, its power could not be denied, not even by gods. With a last, ethereal cry, the spirit of Annaculease was finally claimed by Attacus. The spirit disappeared into the lantern and then everything was quiet. Everything was still. The light died. It was like that for a few minutes, the battered form of Attacus stood over the corpse of his foe, the silence encompassing everything like a blanket. He was motionless, with his head bowed. Even the wind was still. Then the bells began to chime. The sound of the great chains clinked and clanged, signaling the gatekeepers arrival. He appeared in a burst of black smoke, the chiming of the bells stopping as soon as his presence touched the realm of the living. Attacus raised his head in greeting to his master. “Master. It is done.” He said, holding up the old lantern emotionlessly. The great hooded figure that was Oronus took the lantern in his skeletal hands which seemed to slowly leak out black smoke, trailing it through the air. He inspected it, or at least looked like he was inspecting it, but it was difficult to tell with the black hood obscuring his head. After a few moments, he waved his hand and the lantern vanished in a puff of black smoke and with the caw of a crow, it reappeared in Attacus’ gauntleted hands. “THIS CORE IS YOURS. YOU WILL NEED IT. FIND THE OTHERS.” With a small flash of light, the spirit of Annaculeese flowed into Attacus. It was like a river of glowing green flooding into his eyes, making him shine like a beacon in the woods. He crackled with radiant energy. The most astonishing thing about the transition was the sudden presence of something extraordinary present inside of him. He could feel again. His sight burst into colour. A multitude of thousands of different shades blossomed into being, making him gasp and shudder with pleasure and delight. It was incomprehensible. It was like he had been living blind, deaf and dumb and suddenly he was thrust into the light. He dropped to his knees, overcome with ecstasy. He wept like a babe, the tears streaming down his face freely. He clasped his gauntleted hands onto his helm in a vain attempt to stop his senses from feeling. An involuntary groan escaped his lips, his own voice sound alien to his ears. After what seemed like hours, he shakily looked up, to see his master’s reaction at his moment of weakness, but Oronus was no longer there. He was just left alone in those dark woods. “*I’ll be honest, I didn’t expect this.*” Attacus screamed, his newly found voice cracked and buckled under the sudden strain. He whirled around desperately, trying to find the source of the voice. For so long, he had been alone, not even having himself for company. “REVEAL YOURSELF.” “*Well, you took my core, my spirit.*” “WHERE ARE YOU.” “*We are bound together. We are entwined now, you and I.*” “WHAT IS THIS.” “*Hello again. Attacus.*” Annaculeese said.


Breathe life into me weary traveller, let me occupy your thoughts for a little while. I'm dot, pleased to meet you.. You're not much of a talker are you? That's okay, I can do all the talking, you just relax and take it easy. Has it been a hard day? That's okay, kick your feet up and stretch out a little. Close your eyes and.. wait, don't do that, you won't be able to read. And if you can't read then I'll just turn back into words on a page, and it's much more interesting to be wandering through your mind than on this page. You might be wondering what business I have in your head - what could this little dot possibly want to do with me? Well, I'm here to ask a few questions, provoke some thoughts, perhaps change some minds. Do you know what's amazing about me? I've been on this journey before, in many minds. I'm sorry if you thought you were special, I'm afraid not. Others sing, have sung, and will sing from the same hymn sheet, it's amazing. The power to build structures in other people's minds. The power to build the same structures across many minds.. Anyway, I have a couple of questions which you may find strange, but hear me out. Okay, here's the first one. How do you feel? Or, perhaps I should ask a different question. Why do you feel? As a little dot, I have no feelings of my own; I only move when you move me. You can pick me up, and put me down. I require no energy, and have no senses. I have no need for such earthly occupations in the safety of your head. I must say though, it looks like this brain of yours does require energy. In fact, I do believe you are spending some of that energy right now reading me. That's okay though, you have lots of energy left, and if I have a look through your head, I'm sure I can find a recent memory of a place where you last saw food. You do know where you can find food right now, right? Good. As I was saying, have a think about why you feel. Peel back the layers here and really think - why do you feel? Why was it necessary for your body to build senses into you? Eyeballs just seem complicated and expensive, ears just look silly and, oh my God you can talk. Hmm, that's interesting. You can talk, and you can talk in intricate ways. That voice box of yours can sure make some interesting noises when you want it too. Isn't that funny? In my poising of the human blueprint I have come to admire the intricacies and range of his interfaces with the world. He can thread the needle, bang the hammer, detect light from distant stars. You sure do feel man, but more than that, you change your environment too. To appreciate what I'm saying about range and detail, let's have a closer look at your eyeball, truly a portal into another world..


Oh! How they laughed when first they heard the other’s name. This was a story some would dine out on, but not Dave and Dave. Dave, always Dave. Never David. Someone once asked whether it might be a little easier if one of the Dave’s used the full version of their name. Dave narrowed his eyes and told the wrong-headed miscreant, “Dave is the full version of my name.” The other Dave said nothing. He didn’t see the point in repeating the same conversation all over again. Later, Dave would ask him if he was coming down with something, “yes, I think I am,” said Dave, “it’s very unlike me to say nothing isn’t it?” Dave nodded an affirmation, “especially upon the matter of our names,” he said. This was true. Dave is almost unique in being a supposedly involuntary truncation of David. Davids introduce themselves as David, not as Dave and at the very next opportunity a certain type will call them Dave. Not using someone’s name and using a different name is rude. It is name calling. Everyone knows this, but still they do it to Davids. They can also do it to Richards and Williams, but mostly, they do it to Davids, as though there is a secret society of rude people who have it in for Davids. Maybe there is. All descended from Goliath. Dave was glad that he wasn’t a David so that he could at least avoid a lot of that truncation-related trouble. Other than this wrong-headed suggestion, no one had ever called him David. Not even a strict, disciplinarian mother. She might have missed a trick there. Mothers who want to put the fear of the gods in their child need only to use the full version of their name. They teach this in Mother School along with a bunch of other useful weaponised words and violent exhalations. Dave was also glad that he wasn’t a David, but only because he didn’t like the way the word clattered out of his mouth. There was something clunky and awkward about it. He once had a nightmare when, in the throes of passion, his celebrity crush cried out DAVID! He awoke screaming and filled with terror. This was not helped by his chrysalis state, swaddled in his duvet and struggling to break free of that word. David. His crush ended that night. He was so disappointed in her. He thought she was better than that. Today Dave was at the county fair with his best friend Dave, and they were competing for the most prestigious of prizes at said fair. They had been friends for as long as they could remember, which was not to say that they had been friends since childhood, no, they had awoken within minutes of each other on the same hospital ward. A statistical improbability, they had both suffered a severe bout of amnesia. At that stage, all they remembered was their name. Dave. As a basis for any relationship, this did not afford all that much. A single word. But Dave had this in common with Dave and so too did Dave have this in common with Dave. Then it dawned on the both of them that they also had another thing in common. They both had brown hair. Falling prey to that thing that so many people do, Dave and Dave missed the very obvious thing that they had in common, that they were both in hospital and they both had memories that had been almost entirely erased. They were too busy getting to know each other. Slowly. Frustratingly slowly. They shared that frustration and were kinder to each other than they were to themselves. They helped each other out of the fog of nothingness and built something to distract them from that fog, and that something was their friendship. After a couple of false starts and a bout of comfortable silence in which Dave contemplated the philosophical implications of having nothing and being nothing and what that meant in terms of a starting point in the midst of a life that had obviously been lived and then carelessly lost in the woods or aisle three of a budget supermarket, and Dave stared at his toes and wondered why he had an uneven number of them on each foot, but when considered as a collective came to a beautifully round ten, then went on to consider why it was that he’d lost his memory and yet knew his numbers and the labelling word for the small appendages on his feet, the Daves had a conversation. “I was thinking,” said Dave. “As was I,” said Dave, “a sometimes dangerous preoccupation, but it must be done.” “We have a fresh start,” said Dave. “And it isn’t a bad start,” said Dave. “How do you mean?” asked Dave. “Well,” Dave considered how best to translate his discovery of his ability to label and talk about his toes, “have you noticed that we have not lost language?” “I hadn’t,” said Dave as he thought about it, “and yet I had.” “In that you’ve been using language,” ventured Dave, “but had not noted it’s use until now?” “Something like that,” said Dave. “Funny old lark this life isn’t it?” said Dave whimsically. “Yes, I suppose it is,” agreed Dave. Dave smiled. Dave saw Dave smile and enjoined with him in the smiling. “I wonder how it is that we remember words, but not how we came by them?” asked Dave. “A different part of the brain,” said Doctor Dave as he strode into the ward and cut a fine figure of a man and of a doctor. Which was just as well, given that he was both a man and a doctor. “How do you know that?” asked Dave. “I’m a doctor and it’s my job to know things of this sort, and nature and other things of that ilk,” explained Doctor Dave. “He’s right you know,” said Nurse Dave, and Nurse Dave knew Doctor Dave was right because he was studying things of this sort, and nature and other things of that ilk. He was also Doctor Dave’s lover and they had talked about things of this sort, and nature and other things of that ilk as they spent pleasant time together creating golden memories, such as the ones that Dave had carelessly lost, and Dave had also carelessly lost. “I suppose this is a good thing in a way,” said Dave. “And a frustratingly bad thing in another,” said Dave. “Yes to both,” nodded Doctor Dave, “now if you’ll just roll over for your rectal examination.” Dave gave Doctor Dave a quizzical look and wasn’t at all for rolling over. In return, Doctor Dave reached into his wardrobe of suitable looks and gave Dave a look that would not be denied, it was a strong look, so strong that Dave wilted underneath it and with a sad sigh rolled over, wondering as he did, why he had not asked whether this was strictly necessary when he had lost his memory, and, as far as he was aware nothing from up his bum canal. “Is that strictly necessary?” asked Dave. “Not at all!” exclaimed Doctor Dave, then he burst into paroxysms of laughter. Nurse Dave cracked up also, Doctor Dave’s hearty laughter being of the infectious sort and Nurse Dave’s soft spot for Doctor Dave making him all too receptive to Doctor Dave’s broadcasts, especially of humour and things of this sort, and nature and other things of that ilk. They laughed and they laughed until they had to hold each other upright. It was the sight of the two men clutching at each other in order to stay on their feet that brought Dave late to the laughter party. Dave looked from the laughing Dave to the chuckling medics, “you were going to probe my bottom for a cheap laugh!” he protested. “They were going to do what?” asked Dave the Porter, but then the delayed meaning of the words Dave had cried hit him like a comedy blancmange and he burst out laughing, “Doctor Dave! What are you like!?” he boomed before wheeling Dave off for his bum operation. “Is that the doctor who will be operating on my bottom?” asked Dave timidly. “Oh no! Doctor Dave is strictly a head doctor,” Dave the Porter told him. “Then who will be operating on my nether regions?” asked Dave. “That’ll be Doctor Dave,” Dave the Porter told him. “Oh,” said Dave, “that’s all right then,” he said this for something to add. He didn’t know whether it was alright, he just didn’t like the thought of Doctor Dave operating on his behind and cracking jokes like that as he went about his work. “So that clock up your Jacksy?” said Dave the Porter, “tell me again how you slipped and fell?” Dave didn’t reply. Instead he screamed twelve times as the cuckoo in the ensconced clock celebrated the noon hour in the most painful of ways. “What was all that screaming?” asked Dave. “I think I’d rather not know,” said Dave. “I could hazard a guess, if you’d like?” said Doctor Dave wickedly. “Don’t wind them up doc. Can’t you see they’ve had enough already?” said Dave. “Dave! You’re awake!” cried Doctor Dave at the patient laying opposite Dave. “Too loud!” hissed Nurse Dave. Doctor Dave had indeed been too loud and Dave fell back into a deep sleep induced by the loud noise of Doctor Dave’s voice. Doctor Dave was not having much luck with Dave. Exploding a brown paper bag filled with air in an attempt to wake him from his coma-like state had backfired as Dave woke up a split second before the surprise that sent him right back to the land of nod for another prolonged stay. Then there was the time he dressed as a clown to celebrate Dave’s previous awakening. How was Doctor Dave to know of Dave’s morbid terror of killer clowns? It wasn’t like the fear of clowns was at all common. Quietly, Doctor Dave examined Dave. Having done so he shook Dave’s hand, “it’s been nice knowing you,” he said. “Does that mean I can leave?” asked Dave. “You could leave at any time,” Doctor Dave told him, “we’re not keeping you prisoner here.” “But what about my memory?” asked Dave. “What memory?” asked Doctor Dave. “My memory,” said Dave. “I don’t remember anything about a memory?” Doctor Dave said forgetfully. “Erm, Dave?” said Dave. “Not now,” said Dave, “I’m speaking with the good doctor.” “But I think he’s pulling your leg,” said Dave. “Oh...” said Dave. Doctor Dave scowled at Dave for ruining his fun, but the joke was on Dave, for he was retained in hospital for a further two days for a test that never materialised, or rather it did, because the test was whether Dave would realise he too had been subjected to a pull of the leg. Anyway, that was then and now Dave was at the county fair with his very bestest friend Dave. “Nice day for it,” observed Dave. “That it is,” said Dave. “Who’d have thought all those years ago that here we would be, basking in the sunshine and you’d be showing your prize boar,” said Dave. Dave nodded, “it’s a funny old life isn’t it? And here we are warmed by the Summer sun, you showing your prize bull.” “Have you ever wondered...” began Dave. “You know I have,” replied Dave, “frequently.” “After all these years,” said Dave, shaking his head and chortling, “neither of us has recalled a single thing.” “Probably for the best,” said Dave. “What makes you say such a thing?” asked Dave. “Well imagine it,” said Dave. “The myriad possibilities of our former existence?” said Dave. “Exactly,” said Dave with a dour dourness that really doubled down on the dour. “You say it like it’s a bad thing,” said Dave. Dave stroked his chin, “I have stroked my chin and thought on this to some considerable extent,” said Dave. “And?” asked Dave. “I can think of few outcomes that would trump the life we are living now,” stated Dave. “Really?” asked a sceptical Dave. “Really,” confirmed Dave. “But we could have a sizeable fortune awaiting us,” said Dave, “and a beautiful wife,” he added, “and wonderful kidlings.” “There is that,” conceded Dave, “but for every eventuality that promises to enhance these lives of ours, there is an army of dire consequences that would really put a downer on things.” “Do you really think so?” asked Dave. “I know so,” said Dave. “I do not understand your certainty,” said Dave. “Alright,” said Dave, in a way that conveyed that Dave had asked for it, so he was going to get it, “what if the one thing you remembered was wrong?” “I don’t...” began Dave, then the light of a dawning realisation arose within him, “you can’t possibly mean...” Dave nodded a frightful nod. “But!” blustered Dave, “I’m Dave and that’s all there is to it!” “Prove it,” said Dave. Dave’s forehead wrinkled with thoughts that were in the midst of having a car crash in the confines of his head and somewhere in this pile up was a horrible what if that masqueraded as a certainty. Try as he might, he could not unwrinkle his forehead and a dread knowledge began lurking in a foreboding manner that was most disconcerting. Dave experienced a pressing need to distract himself from this awful development... So he punched Dave. Dave promptly left the county fair with Dave the Pig, which was a shame because they missed the judges by less than a minute and the judges had come a-calling with the winner’s rosette. Dave cut a sorry figure as he stood by his prize bull. He had completely forgotten that he had entered his bull in the prize bull competition, his focus and mind were elsewhere. The judges almost turned tail as they rounded the corner and saw the figure that Dave cut, he had deteriorated from sorry to a much less cohesive state. However, the judges retreat was thwarted by the tannoy announcement. “This year’s prize bull winner is Dave’s bull!” There was a cheer right across the entire expanse of the county fair, for the prize bull competition was the most prestigious of all the competitions at the fair. More prestigious was it than the best jam, the best pork pie, the best cheese, even the most interestingly shaped, oversized vegetable competition was eclipsed by the prize bull competition, much to the annoyance of Dave and his eye wateringly large and intimidating marrow. In fact, the only competition that could hold a candle to the prize bull competition was the prize boar competition, and there was an unofficial assessment of the best of the best once the two winners were announced. This year, the piggy winner had been declared in absentia and so there could be no best of the best assessment and life was a little less rich as a result of this deprivation. The tannoy crackled, stilling the jubilant crowd and it burst into life again. “Yes everyone, this year’s winning bull is Dave’s bull, John...” A terrible hush befell the proceedings. Dave the Tannoy, had left the tannoy on as he held the card before him, “wait? That can’t be right? John? What’s that all about?” But Dave knew. Or rather John did.


She was known as a Goddess, one always in a hot spring in her temple. It was small compared to the other gods, but she was visited more often than the others. People travel from miles to see her, and to ask her to grant them a wish. And she does, as long as they offer her something just as valuable. But doesn't take it as far as others have. Never shorten someone's life, never has some trick up her sleeve to deceive anyone. From her generosity she has became a well known name, and also a big target for some. Many have tried ways to kidnap her, trap her, or threaten her to obey to them. And only grant them wishes. All have failed, and as punishment by her. They were publicly humiliated for trying. And usually I would have never thought of trying to take her, she was a goddess, minor or not she could easily have done worst. But when my father started getting ill, we needed the money to survive. After many jobs, late nights, and exhaustion from still never making enough. Soon a group of thugs came to offer more money to do some of their dirty work. If my family wasn't in such a bad spot I would've said no. I would've kept working, not caring if I was breaking my body to get us by. But even with my mother's and I effort we could hardly make it. I usually went to bed hungry weeks at a time. Making sure bills were paid, and the rest of my family had something to eat. They paid decently enough, and most of what they had me do was scout out a location for them. Be a look out guard, or deliver things for them. I told them I never wish to know what it was I was dropping off, it keeps my soul at ease to just be ignorant of what I was helping with. But this new task, was different. They told me that I was going to see the Goddess, and ask her to be my wife. They said she would yes, they had a reliable source that said it is the only way to capture her without her punishing you. I was reluctant, but the amount they offered was enough to sway me. It could get my family to a stable place, so we won't be fighting an endless battle trying to get ahead. And I could still ask her for a wish, then I could make sure my family never has to struggle again. So I agreed, and spent a week trying to work the nerve to go there. Her temple was just at the outskirt of the town. There were always people there, all waiting to see her. Many came with offerings, she had a few beings made of boulders as her guardsmen to keep the peace. As some were inpatient to see her, and tried to push through. I finally worked the courage to go to her temple, it was later in the night. Fewer people around, and the the cool autumn air easily showed the steam coming from her temple. Leaving a light fog around her temple. I didn't wait long to see her, an hour at most. And when it was my time, I heard my blood rushing in my ears. I concentrated hard to just breathe, nervous to put the plan in motion. A water nymph escorted me to her, the room was heavy with steam, but yet it wasn't suffocating as it would be in a enclosed space. In the middle of the room was the spring, the Goddess floating inside. The room was lit from candles surrounding the springs, illuminating the Goddess. Dark hair floating elegantly in the water, eyes closed as I approached. As I got closer I realized she was floating on her back, and steam surrounded her body to hide what she didn't want to be seen. Only her arms, legs, shoulders and head were visible. Golden brown skin had an unearthly glow to it, memorizing. She soon opened her eyes and looked right at me. I felt a blush creep in my face as I realized I'd been staring. Looking away to regain my composure she spoke. "Hello human, what is it that you wish for?" She ask, voice so calming and soft. I looked back at her when she stood up. The water reaching her midriff, steam still covering her chest. I had to remind myself as to why I was here, to stop getting distracted. I'd heard of her beauty, as most Goddess are inhumanly beautiful, but to be in front of an attractive woman was harder then I thought it to be. I cleared my throat to get myself prepared to accomplish my task. "I do not come for a wish, I-" She looked at me confused but said nothing, curiosity filled her dark eyes. "I would be honored if you would marry me." I said, my voice shaking. Even with the thugs assurance she wouldn't punish me, the memory of seeing all those she had filled my mind. She no longer spoke with a soft calming voice, it was filled with anger. "Marry you? I-" She was cut off, having submerged in the spring. I stood frozen as I saw her figure thrash under the water. After a moment she emerged, coughing violently as if she was trying to catch her breath from drowning. Her face hidden from my view by her hair. Which no longer held it's previous elegance. It cling to her body as she continued to catch her breath. She spoke again, voice hoarse from the coughing. "How dare you?" She moved her hair from her face. Her skin lost it's unearthly glow, she sneered at me. My heart tried to leave my body as my head raced with all ways she could hurt me, she might even kill me for this. "How dare you!? You selfish man! You have taken me away from my child because you wanted a bride!!?" She yelled, voice echoing off the walls, her words pierced my body. A child? "I could've granted you money, power, status to gain a bride! You fool! You've taken my power!" While glaring at me tears began to fall from her eyes. "I-What? I-I didn't know. I'm sorry I-" I stopped when she got out of the spring, her body fully exposed but fear over took any interest to look. She began charging at me, I knew I should move but I couldn't. My feet were frozen to the spot, and a small part of my brain told me whatever was to come was deserved. Just as she was about to slap me, I saw her body twitch and she moved at the last moment. Swinging at nothing, and her momentum flung her body to the ground. Hearing her hit the ground, I snapped out of my fear and tried to help her up, when she screamed. "Don't touch m-AH!" She screamed again and curled into a ball. Holding her left hand out, I watched in disbelief as a ring formed on her finger, the ring was glowing as if hot. The skin around turned red, being burned by the ring. It soon dimmed and looked like a simple silver band on her finger. The skin still red as she sat up and looked at me. Tears continued to fall. "I hope you're happy. You have taken the power of a Goddess, taken me from my child. My lifespan less than half of theirs. They'll be alone, because of you. Nymph!" She yelled out, one quickly ran in and looked shocked at her. "A robe." Was all she said as she sat in a fetal position. I remembered she was still undress, and looked to the nymph leave the room. The nymph quickly came with a robe and helped her put it on. "I am now your bride, an unwilling one. And while the ring won't let me hurt you, I will still make our lives together torture." She said as she stood up, her eyes red from the tears. But she still looked at me with hatred. My stomach seemed to jump to my throat, this wasn't what was supposed to happen. What am I supposed to do now, I didn't think I'd actually have a bride. How could I handle taking care of someone else now? I started breathing rapidly as she spoke to the nymph. "Call my sister and have her bring my daughter." Daughter. She had a child, one that aged slower than humans do. I took her away from her daughter. I took away her powers, all because of money. The guilt began to eat at my insides as a bright light filled the room. Next to the former Goddess was another that looked similar to her, which makes sense if she calls them her sister. Golden brown skin, dark hair, in regal clothes. And holding a small bundle that began to coo as soon as the Former Goddess reached them. "My sister! What happen? What-" The other Goddess looked at her in shock, lightly touching her cheek. "The curse?" She barely whispered, receiving a nod. The Former Goddess took the little girl from her sisters arm and held them close, whispering to the child. The sister looked at me and glared. "You did this to her." She raised a hand and lifted the water out from the spring, and was aiming at me. Just as the water almost hit me, the Former Goddess left hand shot out and pushed her sisters arm. Making the water miss me, hitting the wall with a lot of force. That the building shook on impact. "What?" The Goddess looked to her sister in confusion. "Ugh, stupid ring. Forcing me to protect him. Gah." The Former Goddess said, see looked at me and it was easy to tell she wished she let her sister hit me. "Don't waste your effort sister, it has already been done. I am now mortal, and wed to him." She looked back at her sister with sad eyes. "Please watch over her, let her know of me. Even after I've passed." They stared at each other, speaking in a silent language. The little girl between them, unaware of the misfortune I've placed on her and her mother. "Wait, I'm sorry. This wasn't my intention. Is there a way for me to reverse what I've done?" I said, their heads snapped in my direction. While my blood ran cold, I didn't stop talking. "I wasn't told of what asking you to marry me would cause to you. I'm sorry, I know me just saying so doesn't mean much to you. But please, is there a way to reverse what's been done? Whatever it is, I'll do it." "Would you die to fix your mistake?" Asked the Goddess in a cold tone. My mouth went dry, die? What about my family? "Wait sister." Spoke the Former Goddess, she still held to the child tightly, but looked at me with more curiosity than hate. "What do you mean you weren't told of what would happen? Were you sent here?" "I-I was sent by a band of local thugs. I was only told to come here and return for a reward that is supposed to get my family to a more financially stable place. So we won't struggle, had I'd been told that asking you would do this to you. I would've said no, and I know you have no reason to believe me. But what I say is the truth, so is there something I can do to fix what I've done?" I pleaded, the Former Goddess looked at her sister who just stared at me. As if looking into my soul to see if I spoke the truth. "He isn't lying, but even so. We don't know how to break the curse. It was place upon her by our loving mother." The Goddess spoke, venom on her lips. The Former Goddess looked hurt for a moment, before concealing her thoughts. "And we haven't spoken to her in centuries, not as if she'd tell us if we asked. Our... our mother is a wicked one. It's best to just make due with what she has thrusted upon me, instead of trying to stop her." She said, guilt ripped through my being again when she looked to her daughter, a small tuff of dark hair was visible from the bundles of blankets. The baby girl still cooed at her mother, small chubby arms wormed their way out of the blankets and reached for her mothers face. "Oh my darling. What I'd do to stay with you." She brought the baby up to her and gave a kiss, tears welling up in her eyes. "I will do all I can to see if there is something that we can do." Her sister said, placing an arm around her in a side hug. Looking at the baby girl, "Even if she isn't yours by blood, she's taken after you." She spoke softly, I shifted weight from foot to foot. not knowing what to do in this intimate moment. "It's better than not trying." "True, but my hopes aren't high sister." "Then I'll keep my hope high for the both of us." She turned to me again, anger still in her eyes. "And you, since she is now your wife I expect her to be well taken care of. She may be a former Goddess, now mortal. But she must be taken care of rightfully. That work , you do for the thugs will not be suitable to take care of her." "I-But-" My mind was racing, now thinking of how I was going to go home with a bride. Someone else to care for, not as I could ask her to do work to help my family along. "Sister, enough badgering. I may have been a Goddess but don't forget who I was before becoming well known." They shared a knowing look. "I can handle myself, and it seems you forget he was send here to get me for payment to take care of his family. I can still live here-" "No, that is not proper, this marriage wasn't proper, let's not dwell from tradition so much." They continued to talk as if I wasn't here. "And if he needs money so much your dowry should be enough." "Oh no, don't tell me you kept that? Dowries haven't been used in years sister." "And? Wasn't it good that I saved it? Look now, married to someone who isn't worthy. Let alone someone who can't take care of you. At least with this I can sleep well knowing you'll be okay." Her words struck me, and filled me with more guilt. "You, since you truly regret what you've done to my sister I will spare your life. As long as you take care of her while I find more out about the curse. I will visit her often, and if I hear just ONE thing that you've done. Like hurt her, or deprive her of anything she is worthy of. You will suffer the consequences." "Sister enough, you know I am more than capable of handling my own issues." The Former Goddess stepped in, looking at her sister with a look I understood since I've seen my younger sister give me. ' I can handle myself, I'm no longer a child .' "Which I would usually agree, but with the ring now stopping you from harming him. Then it will be up to me to punish him." She took the baby girl back, rocking her back and forth. "Mortal I will be back in a days time with her dowry, you will live together and be a couple. I won't let my sisters imagine be tainted. Understood? So you will tell no one, and I mean not a soul of the curse or this plight." My throat felt tight, so I could only nod to let her know I understand. She soon left, in a blinding light just as she came. "I love her, but she can be so old fashion." The Former Goddess said, looking at me expressionless. "As for her, request. It would be best no one else knows of what is going on, it could cause more issues. So ground rules, if ever in public we are a happily married couple. Though beware of your hand at all time. We will live here, I don't want to join your family and risk being found out. And lastly, don't EVER expect me to fulfill ANY wifely duties in private. Or so help me I will find a way to hurt you. Am I clear?" "Yes ma'am." I choked out, reality fully hitting me full force. Married, to a former Goddess because asking for her hand took her powers. How am I going to explain this to the thugs. It will cause a lot of issues with them, I though biting my lip. "Good. Nymph!" The same nymph from earlier runs in. "Close my temple, without my powers I can no longer grant wishes. Say I've decided to simply be worshipped through prays and offerings. Anyone who tries to come in without permission, have the guards punish them. Severely." She said in a hard tone, she looked over to me briefly. "And I guess since he's my husband now, that he is to be tended to. But as only a guest. His own room, far from mine. He can only give simple orders, anything higher must come from me. Now go and get another guard to go with him to gather his personal things." The nymph looked at me suspiciously but nodded and left us alone.


It all of a sudden started to rain. The weather called for thunderstorms all week but the downpour was so unexpected. By day 3 it seemed as if a month of rain had already fallen. Very bizarre for a July. But we weren’t worried. It kept the 2 of us inside. We were already working from home for the last year since the pandemic started but this time it was something about the storm that kept us in concentration mode. We’d spend most of our days in front of our computers aligned with our huge bay window that overlooked the trees and beautiful forest in our backyard... miles away from the busy city life that we left behind when we got married 10 years ago. In front of the window we sat at our table across from each other, coffee, snacks and laptops being a divider and when our work day was finished we’d have a meal, alternating who would prep and cook, then clean. That’s how we’ve been for year's. We’ve become accustomed to being in The same room in silence. We’d Then use the evening to convene and talk about our day as if we weren’t together for most of it. It wasn’t until day 4 of the heavy rain that we became privy to what was actually going on beyond the walls of our home. The city around us was beginning to flood. If it wasn’t for her randomly taking a break that Thursday afternoon and turning on the news that we discovered that in fact it was almost 2 months of rain that had fallen in three and a half days and most of the city was becoming submerged under water. The media stated it as a “possible human extinction event” but we brushed it off slightly. Not that we were non believers, just more skeptics of the news. Something we rarely watched for factual information, but more of an outlet for entertainment. But then on Friday something happened. The rain suddenly stopped and it was Unusually hot. We cranked the AC but to no avail. It seemed as if the ground outside looked like it was almost melting. That an egg had no chance and would turn to char almost instantaneously. I had to check it out for myself. I went to step outside cautiously but was met with the singe of the sun burning the hair on my knuckles as I stuck my arm out to test. I quickly shut the door and surveyed the damage. My hand was almost burnt. I could see the hair on my arms almost scorched off and a blister began to form on my hand. I ran into the kitchen for some aloe and met her looking at me with tears in her eyes. She was standing watching the tv in our kitchen with her hands over her mouth. The news reporter looked just as frantic. I held her close, ignoring my pain and listened intently as they explained that there had been a major heat wave around the world. The earths core was heating up by the day that it was almost melting within itself. According to scientists, the world was imploding and we only had days to go. With No chances of survival, we as humans would just merely dissolve in the heat. That’s if we did not die from the floods, the hurricanes and the earthquake that would happen sometime before or after. The sky had opened up in major cities and turned a vibrant red. We ran to the bay window over looking our work station and gasped. It was as if the sun had turned into hot lava. A big molten rock about to fall from the sky. I looked over at her and at that moment we knew; this was the end. Perhaps now we were glad we never had children. How would we explain it to them? The news said days but we were surrounded by trees and shrubbery, if they became ignited that would be it for us. But there would be no where to go. As night fell it seemed to give relief. The sun went down in a fiery ball as we watched it from our window. The moon, however, gave us a kind of peace. Some comfort that things may be ok. We finally opened the door and sat on the porch to watch the stars for what may be the last time. It was still extremely hot so we stripped down to our bare and tolerated the heat. Saturday morning everything came to a head. The sun was now expelling huge pellets that it was actually raining fire. The cable seemed to have been burnt out. Phone lines down. There was no one we wanted to call anyway. Both our parents were deceased for years. That was a good thing. We watched from the window and saw billows of smoke arising beyond the trees, people were out there being obliterated. Not being able to run for cover. The terror and chaos must be dire on the other side of the trees. I felt a sense of guilt, though I knew what was coming, I found solace in the reality that id die a happy man, in our quaint, almost cottage like home, with her. We sat in front of the window all day and watched the crimson and bright yellow sparks fly like little bugs around our house. We didn’t panic. We were never the type to. Why we were so calm was beyond me, maybe because we've always been people to welcome the inevitable, or we were both consoled by the fact that we've always just had each other. Being only children and moving away to a house so secluded that you had to drive 20 minutes from the main road will do that to anyone. Not to mention, the isolation, because you know, pandemic. We've already felt like we've been the only two people on earth for over a year. That evening I sat with my back against the window and watched her intensely. She seemed no more worried than me. I hugged her tightly as we danced to the sweet serenade of Coltrane playing from my phone. I smelled her hair. And kissed her slowly. She embraced me and smiled. We made love for the last time. We got up before sunrise Sunday morning and the smoke was so heavy that it enveloped the sky and earth around us. I watched from the window with my arms behind my back and sighed. “Babe breakfast is ready!” I turned to our table where she had a whole set up. We sat across from each other and ate quietly, eggs, bacon toast pancakes, almost everything in our pantry, prepared on the gas stove. At that moment I was glad I decided to not argue on the gas or electric. She was In charge of all decor of our place. We smiled and laughed at each other between bite full, eating happily in front of our bay window as the world around us literally burned, loving each other’s company as always, something that would never change, not even during the end of the world.


It was just before dawn when I woke to the alien invasion. It began with the thumpings on the roof. One followed by two, then three, then four, then just a dull roar of heavy objects hitting the roof. I ran to the window and looked out to find the sky filled with small kittens in parachutes plummeting to the Earth like cotton candy. "My time is now." I said to myself. I had known this was coming. It was in the lore of the world handed down throughout history and only the right person, with the right mind could read between the lines. Like the line in the bible about Jesus and that one dude and that other dude - it all spelled kitten invasion. If you think I'm joking, open a dictionary sometime and under the letter K, you will find kittens. Luckily, I was ready. I had been storing milk for years in my fridge. It all went bad, but that's not how I was ready. How I was ready was I had also stored guns and ammo. Lots of it. I ran to the closet where I kept my guns and ammo and opened the door to find more expired milk. I realized two things in that moment - why my house smelled and why there were so many guns and ammo in my fridge. Back to the fridge, I grabbed a gun and some ammo and loaded up what looked like a shotgun and ran to the door. The kittens were still floating to the ground, but many had landed and were helplessly clawing at their parachutes or tangling themselves up in them in some sort of attempt at comfort. It dawned on me that the kittens may not have any ill will towards humans and were simply just kittens that parachuted in great numbers on to the Earth on one given day in the entire history of kittendom. But that was too easy. I opened the door and opened fire. For five minutes I pulled the trigger again and again and not one kitten was harmed. I had either extremely bad aim, as their were thousands of them, or I was holding a chili dog in my hand. It turned out to be the latter. Once again, I had failed to study guns and ammo and what they were and realized a hot dog was not a gun and chili was no sort of ammo. I resigned myself to the notion that I would be of no use in the rebellion against the kittens and sat down and had a big bowl of ammo. The TV was reporting that there was no cause for alarm as the kittens posed no danger, but still there was no explanation as to why they had parachuted in great numbers to the Earth. I looked back out the window. Most of the kittens had removed their parachutes and lo and behold - they were now pulling revolvers out of their fur and moving towards the homes in my neighborhood. I quickly Googled revolver and realized that this time - yes! This time! I knew what I was talking about. They were revolvers. But before I could congratulate myself there was the sound of gunshots at my door. The kind of gunshots that don't come from chilidogs. No, these were real gunshots. I crouched behind my couch and noticed that the TV had gone to static. The first ploy of the kittens had worked - they had been trusted to not have revolvers hidden in their fur. "You won this round." I muttered to myself. Then the door broke down and a kitten standing on two feet with a kazoo in it's mouth entered the house. "Put down your weapons and surrender!" The kitten ordered. I threw the chilidog at him and yelled "I surrender!" There was silence. I rose from behind the couch and there on the ground was a dead kitten. The childog had bore straight through it's abdomen and killed it. 2. I surveyed the scene. Dead kitten? Check. Chili dog that had bored a hole through the kitten? Check. Somehow, the kittens had some vulnerability to chili dogs. I barely threw the sausage and yet it had burned through the kitten like a chili dog burning through....a....kit - you get it. I looked outside and found that the kittens in the immediate vicinity were again acting cute and pretending to be caught up in their parachutes, while mere yards away other kittens were thumping every last human with their revolvers. Yes, it was clear that the kittens at my front door had seen the carnage created by the chili dog and were playing cute. I ran to the fridge and grabbed more chili dogs. I had a box I kept full of them just in case. In case of what? Well, that's my business, buddy. I walked out of the house and began lobbing them at the kittens. Huge explosions roared from the Earth, as the chili dogs were now acting as incendiaries and lighting the landscape up in burning kitten meat. "Don't tread on me!" I yelled, lobbing chili dogs at each and every kitten I saw. But then, from over a hill, I turned to see nemesis: the kittens had an armored chili dog that they were driving towards me. I yelled "I am not vulnerable to chili dogs, you brutes!" The kitten at the helm, a general of sorts for he wore a beret with medals, smiled at me and meowed loudly. The front of the great armored chili dog exploded and a volley of kittens erupted out and at me. The kittens clawed at every fiber of my being and brought me down. I knew this was a death stroke. I had, like many men before me, put my faith in a deli food and found that it had not been quite what I expected. Well, twice. Because at first I didn't think chili dogs would kill kittens, and then later (see above) when I realized I could no longer huck chili dogs at kittens in the hope that they would die because there were like 30 kittens clawing me to the ground. This isn't to say that chili dogs are not useful - they are. They are a delicious source of protein...and OH YEAH, I know they are full of nitrates and fat people eat them, but every once in awhile I think it's...OK. Well, I did have a whole box of them and I understand what that implies but I woke from my slumber and found myself hanging from a tree, wrapped in yarn. The kittens had cocooned me and I was awaiting whatever terrible meal I would become. There was then meowing. Followed by more meowing. Then silence. Then there was a boatload of meowing. Like mass meowing. You know like millions of kittens. Point is - it was deafening. Because it was deafening, I was able to kind of block it out as white noise and I grabbed my phone and looked at some sport scores. Then I felt myself being lowered to the ground. I made an attempt at escaping, but the yarn was too tightly wound and I was only able to flop around on the ground. I could see through the yarn and the General kitten was approaching. "Meow. Meow. Meow-meow." "I don't..." "MEOW. MEOW. MEOW-MEOW!" "I don't speak kitten. I'm a simple man. I don't understand what you want of me. I have a Safeway club card and feel uncomfortable peeing in public!" "MEOW!" There was some shuffling, and then a smaller kitten in a lesser suit (it wasn't really a suit, it was like some kitty parachute pants and a tie ridiculously hung around it's neck) approached with a kazoo. The General took the kazoo and put it in it's mouth. "We demand antioxidants!" The General shouted through the kazoo. It seemed the kazoo acted as a translator. "I still don't understand." The General looked at the kazoo and then fiddled with it with his General kitty kitten paws. It was really cute. The General then put the kazoo back in it's mouth. "We want milk." "Ah, that makes sense. There's plenty of milk. There is no need to kill anyone. Our two races can live together in harmony." I said, with a tear running down my face and into the yarn. "Remove the yarn from his face! I cannot hear him. He is all muffled and the author just realized that I need kazoos in my ears as well. A simple mouth apparatus cannot translate language coming in. It's simple logic. The General retrieved two smaller kazoos from the kitten in the bad suit and put them in his ears. Then another kitten removed the yarn from my face. "I said we can live in peace. Plenty of milk. Don't have to shoot everyone. I pee freely in public and am quite proud of it." "Ah." The General said. "Where's the milk?" "It's like, everywhere. In every house. Just ask nicely or purr at a doorstep." The General looked around at the throng of kittens and then came in close and whispered "A bit much? The revolvers? We just didn't really know. Typically, on other planets, they are stingy with the milk. That guy with the parachute pants totally thought it was a good idea. He saw some movies you people made and it made sense. In retrospect, they were really stupid movies. But he was wearing parachute pants. That's like hardcore ironic, so I figured he knew his shit. So, you guys are like cool with us just...drinking your milk?" I whimpered "Yes. Yes. We'll be cool." The General looked around, threw the kazoos down and then meowed as loud as a kitten could possibly meow. The kittens ran back to the giant armored chili dog and I made out kitty whisper. They were planning a response. Little did they know, I was also planning a response. I had another chili dog up my sleeve, so to speak...