"<strong>Ryder!"</strong>a portly middle aged man shouted over his dandruff speckled shoulders. He was maybe five foot intimidating, with rosy red cheeks and round glasses whose lenses were at least a quarter thick, but he was the man that paid Ry's salary, so like it or not - he usually didn't care one way or the other - Ry had to do what he said if he wished to continue living out of the studio apartment he was renting. Looking up from the novel he was thumbing through, he fixed the other man - Mr. Fowler - a question look while stifling a yawn and trying his best to effect an interested look. The question his eyes were asking, oh so politely yet unspoken, was what the fuck do you want, sir?<strong>"Go grab this fine young lady a copy of '<em>Something Wicked This Way Comes</em>'!"</strong>He was leering now, with a creepy old man smile curling his lips, as he looked back at Ry while still trying to be curious the the blonde on the other side of the counter. Then again, he probably still lived in the basement of the parent's house, and this was the closeted he'd ever get to anyone - anything - remotely attractive what with his pockmarked face, a sign of acne left untreated and picked at from his teenage years, and his pseudo monk look in terms of hair. It was the polite, yet sarcastic way to say that the old lecher was going bald. But why not mock him quietly when he can't hear what you are thinking? Still, his face screwed up into a nasty expression as he yelled,<strong>"Today maybe?! I think we have some extra copies in the back!"</strong><br/><br/>That was a lie, but Ryder sighed and pushed off the counter he was leaning again before closing his book. He mentally saved the place he was at in it and winded his way around the wooden behemoth so that he could get into the bookshop proper. It was a small building, one of the last still standing as space was being gobbled up to make room for a new Wal-mart Super Center, but the owner - Mrs. Fowler - was holding on to it with all the stubbornness of fifty elderly women her age. Not until she's dead, Rick always said. Rick, if you didn't know, was the balding manager barking and leering as he foamed at the mouth over a college freshman with a B-Cup. He planned on selling out to Wal-mart the second his old lady croaked, since he stood to make a killing from both her estate and this lousy little infested hole in the wall.<em>Something Wicked This Way Comes</em>, huh? More like<em>Something Wicked Right Fucking In Front of You</em>.<br/><br/>Leaving the store proper behind him, Ry found his was picking through the stacks for a book he was sure wasn't even in stock anymore. He wondered what a girl like her was doing looking for a book from the 60s, but maybe she was just into that sort of things. Vintage books and such. A forgotten place like this would be the place too look after all, or the library, but whatever. If he had never read the book before and knew the twist in it, he would sometime enjoy the idea of meeting Mr. Dark and taking his promise of any desire granted. But then he'd end up getting bound to servitude and no thank you. Still, the idea was still slightly appealing even as he picked his way back to where other books by Mr. Bradbury's books where and sure enough there was just one copy left. Ry studied it in its place for a second before he reached out for it, stroking its spine like an old lover before pulling it from the shelf. It let out a soft moaning creak as he opened it, and then the bulb over his head exploded and the dimly lit room went blindingly white.<br/><br/>A fog settled over Ry's mind in the next few minutes, even though his grasp on time had slipped and the entire period felt like a millennium gone by, and when his eyes opened again he was looking over a great horizon as clouds passed through his knees. This couldn't be right, but then again, what was right? It was an enigma to him, a teasing puzzle at the front of his mind, but the answer to his questions eluded him. So Ry blinked uncertainly at this new phenomenon, and pushed his hair out of his eyes after the gentle breeze swept by and lightly kissed his exposed naked face. Glancing down at himself, he remember being dressed like this; blue jeans, black shirt, and a pair of sneakers, but the smock he was wearing seemed alien. What the hell was a hobbit anyways, and why did they change? With that piece discarded, Ry had also noticed the book he was holding, but as he thumbed though it again he noticed that it contained nothing more than blank page after blank page, and even the cover seemed to have been robbed of all its color. Still, he held it close to his body, unlike the smock, and gave the new land a questioning look. He had done that earlier he thought, but this time it was different. This time he was questioning himself. Until, of course, something rudely derailed his train of thought.<br/><br/><strong>"What. The. Fuck."</strong><br/><br/>The cawing of birds in the distanced answered him, and it was then that Ry knew that he wasn't alone up here. However, despite his possible company, the sound of rushing water had reminded him that there were more pressing matters to attend to. Dirt and grime had build up since awakening from that fog like dream that lead to now, and a building urge in his stomach was ushering him towards the winding slope in the distance. Whatever awaited down there seemed to be calling for him, even if it wasn't, since his desire to explore this fantasy - or was it real? - was starting to feel as if it was pulling him every which way. But priorities first. Always priorities.<strong>"I don't know bout you guys, but I'm heading this way,"</strong>he called out with a wave over his shoulder. Adventure awaited no one. Even if it was in the same direction as the giant s fuck creature that was capable of shrouding an entire city with its  shadow. Then again, the more distance between one place to the sun (was that thing in the sky the same sun?) or any source light, the bigger the shadow you cast.