Demons: Chapter 1 Part 2

Ok, maybe I shouldn't have said 'tomorrow'. Here is part 2....

He was the last to leave the classroom for their break. He waited until everyone had left then looked around suspiciously. After realising there was nothing around, he felt like an idiot for letting the story get to him.

He had completely forgotten about the classmate who had made fun of him, and he had seemed to have forgotten about him too, as he'd left without saying anything. Edwin spent the break looking around the school to get familiar with the place. He realised that the teacher had also forgotten to give him a recap sheet for maths. He didn't much care about it either way.

He was walking up a path on which one side was the back of one of the school buildings, and on the other side were bushes and trees in front of a wall, when he bumped into something and almost fell over. He looked around but couldn't see anything that would have obstructed him, and it was clear daylight.

"Must've been my imagination..." he said quietly, reassured by the sound of his own voice. He started to walk but bumped into it again.

There was something there. Right in front of him. But he couldn't see anything except a clear path. He put his hands out in front of him and felt something there. It was big, and felt wet to the touch. Then it moved.

Edwin scrambled back, falling over in the process. He jumped back to his feet and strained his eyes to see, but he couldn't see anything. However, what he did both see and hear was the bushes moving and rustling as whatever the invisible thing was in front of him started to move. Edwin turned, and ran, as fast as he could.

"Better hurry up! Don't want to be late for class!" came a shout that brought his mind whirling back to reality.

As he ran past he noticed some delinquents hanging around near some trees, smoking. Break must be over.

He headed to his next classroom, still disturbed by what he had witnessed. Had his mind simply been playing tricks on him? If it hadn't then.... were they going to come after him?

The day's classes passed without making any impact on him; his mind occupied with thoughts of monsters. He got handed many, many sheets and booklets to help him catch up. He just shoved them in his bag and before he knew it he was on his way home.

He couldn't help glancing around, paranoid that something was following, and eventually he ended up lost on his way home. Damnit. He was new to the area after all. He started to backtrack his steps, so he could start his route again and hopefully get it right. The day had started to end and night was settling in, the world around him turning slowly dark.

He could see the school in the distance now, poking up from behind some houses. I must be just a street or two away.

That's when he heard it. The sound of something shuffling across the floor behind him. He jumped around, expecting to see someone, but there was no one. Wide-eyed and fearful now, he hoped the sound wouldn't come back, that it was just his imagination, and that there was nothing there.

The sound came back. This time it was followed by a very quiet, but unmistakable, growl. The air in front of him seemed to be distorted somehow, as if he could almost see what was there. Wasting no time with the thing, however, he decided to just run.

He could hear it chasing him. It was just as fast as he was and he couldn't outrun it. He didn't know why, perhaps subconsciously he was still trying to get home, although that wouldn't help, but he ended up running towards the school.

The gate was closed, but he jumped at it and scrambled wildly to climb over it, sure that the invisible creature was about to grab him. Somehow he made it over the gate, and turned around to look around desperately to see if it had managed to follow him. He could still hear it. The sound came towards the gate.

Before his very eyes the gate creaked, moaned, then crumpled and broke, falling in ruins to the floor.

Edwin couldn't breathe, and certainly couldn't believe what he'd just seen. The sound came closer and closer towards him, until it was just a step away, then a terrible coldness came over him.... so cold he was convinced he'd just died.

"You're very lucky!" came a shout. He was extremely confused then. The sound of a normal, human voice had come from behind him. Then, before his eyes, when had no desire for another otherworldly extraordinary sight, came an explosion of ice, followed by an ear-splitting roar and an inhuman squeal, all so very close to him. He fell backwards, scrambling to get away. As he somehow managed to get to his feet and turn around he saw the source of the human voice he'd heard. It was a boy who must have been a year or two older than him, with short blonde hair. It looked naturally blonde, rather than bleached blonde colour of the boy from his class. He wasn't wearing any school uniform though, he was wearing an array of blue-coloured clothes; jeans, a t-shirt, and a jacket.

"So, you've seen them." he said, looking straight at Edwin. "There's no escaping now. Turn around and watch. The sooner you accept them the easier it'll be"

Edwin had no words, but turned around nonetheless towards the chaotic noises. He watched in horror as 'something' crashed through the air time and time again. Ice seemed to form on the floor.

As he watched, the distorted 'thing' that he hadn't been able to see became distinguishable. A creature came into view, one that was jumping through the air at this other creature. As he looked closely he saw that the creature was some sort of wolf, except larger than any wolf Edwin had seen. He was attacking something even larger, and when it jumped towards it the floor was frozen over where it had been standing.

The creature that it was attacking was the creature that had been following him, Edwin knew when he looked at it. It was a gigantic lump of thrashing tentacles and was covered in gaping, fanged maws. Edwin felt sick looking at it. He backed away, turned once to the boy who had saved him, then ran.

"Wait!" shouted the boy, as Edwin ran towards the gate. The fight between monsters was in his way, but he gritted his teeth and ran through. A tentacle lashed towards him, but the wolf intercepted it and bit it off. Edwin stared, wide-eyed, then tore his eyes away from the scene and ran on, through the broken gate and out of the school. It was all too much for him, and if the monster was busy being attacked then at least it wouldn't be able to come after him.

This time, as he left the school, he found the route home all too easily, and ran straight for it, ignoring the strange looks he received from people as he ran without stopping.

He found his way back to his lone flat without incident. He didn't feel hungry, and had no desire to watch TV like he might normally do. He went straight to his bedroom, and straight to bed, never before wishing for sleep so badly, so he might wake up in the morning and imagine it all a dream.

Demons: Chapter 1 Part 1

This is a new story I'm working on, about beings from another plane of existence (demons, if you will) and the people who fight them off. Unfortunately I don't have enough time to finish this tonight, but I'll finish it tomorrow. So this bit is only 'part 1' of the introduction. Part 2 will be posted tomorrow.

"I hope everyone will make Edwin here feel welcome" was the teacher's misguided attempt to help him fit into his new class. Why do they always act as if students are understanding, nice people? He didn't care too much, he'd dealt with a lot of bad cases in his previous schools, so he was certain he could handle it, but it still annoyed him.

"What a stupid name" came the predictable result from one of the students in class. Edwin felt no need to restrain himself, however, so he looked at the boy who'd insulted him; who was now looking around to his friends as they shared a laugh. He noted Edwin's stare and turned to him, his face gone stern in an attempt at intimidation. "What?" he said.

"If you insult me then I'll break every bone in your body" Edwin said, gaining the disapproving stares of many of his new 'classmates'. Funny that noone cared at the boy insulting him, but they disliked his behaviour. As is always the way. The boy simply laughed at him. "Since you've already insulted me once, I guess I should break one of your bones anyway. At break though" Edwin said with a smile.

The boy looked like he was going to make a retort but the teacher interrupted any further quarrel. 

"Now now" she said, grabbing Edwin's shoulder. A strangely strong grip, Edwin noted. She pushed Edwin towards his new seat, and somehow Edwin was unable to resist her push. He noted that everyone remaned silent. Perhaps there was more to this teacher than met the eye.

His seat was near the back of the class, next to a boy with short hair that had been obviously bleached blonde, and his uniform looked very untidy, as if he was trying to look like some sort of rebel.

"I don't enjoy telling you to tuck in your shirt you know" she said to the blonde boy angrily as she looked disapprovingly at him.

"Sorry Miss" he said, smiling a sheepish smile, but not tucking his shirt into his trousers.

Once Edwin had settled into his seat and gotten his notebook and pen out of his bag the teacher returned to the front of the class and began writing out some maths examples on the board. She said, while everyone remained quiet, that she would write up a sheet for Edwin to go over what they'd already been over so far in the year. 

"You shouldn't have threatened him, you know" the blonde boy said, leaning over to Edwin.

"I don't care" was his reply. 

"You should. He's a member of the boxing club. People say their leader has never lost a fight. Although that's just what people say"

"Yeah well. I'm sure every bully has some stupid rumour about them." Edwin said. The blonde boy seemed amused as that, as he chuckled quietly. 

It was then that Edwin noticed the girl in front of him, who had raised her hand to answer or ask some question. She had red hair, very unusual for a high school student. Edwin himself had normal, short, black hair. Most of the other students had ordinary hair too, except for this girl.

"You shouldn't get involved with her" the blonde boy said, noticing Edwin's stare.

"And why not?" he asked, getting annoyed with his next-chair neighbour.

"She seems like a great girl. Friendly enough, but not too friendly. Red hair. Beautiful. No boyfriend either. She even has perfect grades. But people say she believes in demons" he answered, ending with a mocking grin.

"Demons?" Edwin asked, for the first time surprised, and turning towards him.

"Haven't you heard the stories of the demons of this school?"

"Nope" Edwin replied, shaking his head, but interested despite himself.

"Well, you see, these monsters are invisible, except to those who really believe in their existence. Once you believe, even if it's an unwilling belief, you can see them. And when you can see them, they know you see them, and they come after you. Weapons don't hurt them, and bullets go through them. Nothing stops them until they come after you and eat you."

Edwin felt a chill go down his spine, and a cold sweat appear on his back, but he pretended he was fine.

"That's stupid" he said. "They won't attack you if you don't believe in them?" he asked, smiling disbelievingly.

"Mostly.... but its not completely mutual. It's not a 'if you can't see them they can't see you' kinda thing. They can always see us, they just decide to go after the ones who can see them. But even if you can't see them, sometimes they might get hungry and eat you anyway" he said.

"Well, whatever, that's a stupid story." he replied.

"Don't believe it if you don't want to. I'm not saying it's true, it's just the rumour of this school" he said with a laugh that made it seem that he didn't believe it either. Somehow though, Edwin suddenly felt paranoid like he was being watched, but he refused to look around while the blonde boy was watching him. He didn't want to appear weak and childish.

Winestruck

This little story here is a extract from one of my larger stories, about Frandal the winemaker and how he got caught up in all sorts of trouble.

“Remind me Frandal, what’s the most important part of making a wine?” asked Benari, Frandal’s teacher. He knew Benari hadn’t forgotten, he was testing Frandal to make sure he’d listened to his lessons.

“The most important part is patience” he sighed, picking berries from one of the many bushes in the garden of their rich family’s house. Not ‘their’ family to be exact, but the family they worked for; making them alcoholic drinks.

Benari frowned. “It’s not yet time for the fruits to bloom to their fullest. Another example of where patience is needed; an attribute our employers don’t have” he carried on looking, only picking a few fruits that had luckily grown to an appeasing colour.

In truth they weren’t ‘employed’. They were more similar to spoils of war. Frandal had lived far to the east in the town of Rainfast; named after it’s unfortunate weather. The townsfolk always used to complain about it. Frandal enjoyed the rain though. To him it sounded like hundreds of lost souls harmlessly trying to be reunited with the earth. Now whenever it rained it reminded him of home; of better times.

Benari had worked for Frandal’s family, employed by his father. An actual employment, not slavery. Benari had been paid well, and he had made wonderful wines for the family.

Eventually, however, the war had swept their way. The kingdom of Capiera had invaded their land and claimed their town. Frandal’s family had been slain.

Benari was about to be struck down as well until he pleaded “wait, wait, I am but a winemaker” he said. Amazingly they stopped their swords. “I just make alcohol” he continued. “try some if you like. All the wines and beers and meads in this house were made by me” he boasted. The men had looked at each other and decided not to kill him. They would spare his life; to take him back to their city as their own personal winemaker. When the men had turned to Frandal, only young lad back then, Benari had told them he was his apprentice. They had let both live.

And so it was that the Veldon family had taken them prisoner to a city near the sea, on a jagged mountainside. The city was aptly named ‘The Shattered Glass’ in reference to the mountain’s treacherous cracks.

Frandal had argued against Benari many times; wanting to escape; wanting to avenge his family; wanting anything but this. Eventually, however, as the years went by he accepted his fate and started to learn what Benari had to teach him.

“No one kills one who can make alcohol” Benari had told him one day. “Something everyone has in common is a deep desire to drink. We supply their drink. If the day ever comes when a man pulls a blade on you, you tell him you make alcohol”

And so, years later, Frandal now being Seventeen years of age, the sounds of war, of blood and fire, rang horrifically familiar to both of them.

They heard shouts from the house. “What’s going on?” came the cries.

It seemed the family wasn’t used to being warred upon, they knew what it was to war on other people, but didn’t recognise it the other way round. Many of the people in this town had been in the war to conquer Frandal’s old home; surely they would fight off their attackers?

As they rushed back to the house they saw this wasn’t so. The building was aflame. A door was kicked open and a body fell out of it, sliding off the end of a wickedly jagged blade. A dark skinned man; wearing only leathers, followed the body out; another viscous lighter-skinned man behind him, this one holding an axe in each hand.

“Let me handle this” Benari whispered. He strode forward confidently.

“Now now, this must be a mistake” he said, with a nervous smile on his face.

The dark-skinned one strode forward and cut through him, sending his body crashing to the ground, almost in two pieces, blood flooding forth.

Frandal fell to his knees in horror. He felt the air catch in his throat. Fear had him in it’s tight grip.  He was next.

The men first bent down to look through Benari’s pockets, looting their kill.

Deep down Frandal could feel a spark of anger. He barely noticed it through the chilling fear. Yet somehow he was on his feet, rushing towards them, fist raised high.

Stop you fool! He said to himself. He didn’t seem to have control of his body. Tears rushed down his cheeks as he raged forward, jumping at the dark one with the sword.

Then, suddenly, the axe-wielder’s booted foot was in his stomach. He doubled over in agony, tasting sour bile in his mouth. A second blow, from foot or otherwise he couldn’t tell, sent him to the floor.

“You’ll get your turn young one” one of them snarled with a strange accent.

They talk our language he thought, surprised by the savages. Perhaps he still had a chance. He tried to roll over, taking a few tries to do it, and tried to gasp out some words, but with all the wind gone from his lungs, and him still struggling to breath more in, he could only manage raspy croaks.

The dark one with the blade that looked like the teeth of a monster’s mouth, dripping with blood, came forward.

The other one put his hand on his shoulder to stop him, one of his axes hanging at his belt.

“The boy is trying to say something” he said, this one’s voice less barbaric; more normal.

“So?” the dark one replied, obviously wondering why it should concern him.

“Let’s do him the mercy of hearing his final words. I wonder if they’ll be any good” he said with amusement.

The dark one tutted, rolling his eyes, but stopped to let Frandal regain his breath. Taking his opportunity, Frandal coughed out vigorously “I.... I make wine!”

The two looked at each other, then burst into laughter.

“Wouldn’t have been my choice” the light one laughed, shrugging.

“I woulda done better” The dark one said as he raised his sword.

“Wait wait!” Frandal pleaded. The one with the blade sighed wearily.

“I am but a winemaker” he continued, hardly believing he could remember the words after all these years. “I just make alcohol”. That word seemed to gain the axed man’s attention. “try some if you like. All the wines and beers and meads in this house were made by me” he said, motioning to the burning house behind them, realising how foolish he must seem.

“One thing our troupe lacks is someone who can make us drinks” the man admitted.

“We have ol’ Creppy for that” rasped the dark one.

The other spat on the floor. “That old bitch’s drinks are foul. Besides, Reck’s group keep most of them to themselves. Maybe this boy can us make something better”

The dark-skinned one looked unconvinced. “He tried to hit me” he said, as if that should settle it. He turned back to Frandal.

“True, you never let go of your pride do you? If someone even offends you, you won’t rest til the man is dead.... or the woman raped”

The man’s sword came down, a viscous bloodthirsty smile on his face. Frandal closed his eyes, expecting death.

It didn’t come.

He opened his eyes.

The man’s sword had hit the ground beside him, and as Frandal looked up confusedly he saw the light-skinned man grinning down at him, his hand holding an axe that was digging deeply into the other’s back. He gruesomely pulled it free, blood spattering over him accompanied by the gruesome sound of splitting bone.

“Come on then” he said cheerily. The sound made Frandal want to vomit. “You’ve got wine to make”

Frandal couldn’t believe his luck. He stood. The man grabbed his arm roughly and pulled him with him.

“I hope Reck lets us keep you. Him and his are the only one that likes old Creppy’s shitty drinks” he sighed. Suddenly he laughed madly.

“W.... what’s so funny?” Frandal asked weakly, looking up at the man who towered a good foot above him.

“I just realised, Blattrick back there” he said, referring to his dead partner. “he said ‘he tried to hit me’. His last words certainly weren’t any better than yours”

Gears

This next short story is one I did based on an idea by a friend of mine. He had an idea and I thought it had potential so I made a short story based on it. This friend is SPrice, down below in the list of blogs I follow.

“The Gears are turning”

These words haunted his dreams every night, yet his life was relatively normal. He got up, went to school, spent time with his friends, spent time with his family. The years went by, until he got up, went to work, spent time with his work friends, and came home to his empty house. Not much had changed. But the words still haunted his sleep.

“The Gears”

He knew about Gears; everyone did. They were one of the most important standing stones of society. Without a good gear no device would work. You had to have a quality gear to keep the rest of the cogs turning. He had a standard gear in his television, in his heater, his oven, in pretty much any and every piece of technology he owned. Nothing too fancy; just a standard, slightly overpriced long-lasting gear.

His job paid well. He worked for a blacksmithing and mining firm, and they always paid well. Metal was needed for gears, for most anything, so those who owned the metal could make a lot of money. The only job that could rival the pay of a miner or a blacksmith was someone who worked for an oil company. Oil was needed as fuel for technology. It was needed to keep the gears turning.

That night, after a few drinks down the local pub with his friends, Jack had a dream about a long ago time that he’d almost forgotten about. The time where he’d heard those words… “The Gears are turning” shouted so enthusiastically.

A man had wondered into their village, shouting and sputtering nonsense. He’d had some sort of weapon that had scared everyone. Jack had seen him from his window, and heard him shouting about “The Gears!”. Finally it had been Jack’s own dad who had confronted the man, disarmed him, and removed the gear from the man’s weapon. The local authorities had taken the crazy man in for questioning but found no answers. They finally got an official from the capital city Tartiprocia to come and collect the man to take him to their prison.

                Jack unconsciously grabbed the gear that hung around his neck; the same gear that his father had once disarmed from that crazy man. Perhaps it was that fitful sleep that stopped him being woken by the rumbling and shaking that assaulted his house during the night; as if an earthquake had struck. Also the amount he’d drank the night before at the local pub likely helped.

                He awoke to the headache he was accustomed to. He got dressed in his long coat and heavy boots, thinking to take a walk around before his work shift started at midday. He couldn’t shake a certain sense of foreboding, however... and when he opened his front door, he realised why.

                The village had vanished. Or he had vanished. Whichever was the case, what greeted his eyes wasn’t the usual sight of his familiar road, but a roaringly busy cityscape. Rubble littered the ground, and as he looked up and down the street he saw that several buildings had collapsed. He closed the door.

                Alright... calm down...calm down...

“Where the hell am I?” he said out loud, shaking his head in confusion. He took a few minutes pacing around, trying to make sense of things, but it didn’t lead him anywhere. Then came a knock at the door. He stopped, looking at the door in accusation as if it had purposefully interrupted his thoughts. He slowly and cautiously opened the door. Standing there were three officers.

                “Good evening sir” the one said politely; a big one, Jack noted. He was very tall, as well as very wide. He posed an intimidating sight, yet he looked to be rather friendly, while the other two looked significantly less patient. “As you’ve no doubt noticed, your house appears to have landed in our city. Do you mind if we come in and ask a few questions?”

                Thank the gods. Perhaps they can help explain things. “Certainly, come right in” Jack responded in a friendly tone, leading them into his living room, unable to shake a feeling of unease.

                “So, as you are no doubt aware, your house has… moved. Do you know anything about this?” the lead officer asked.

                “Unfortunately not. I was hoping you might be able to shed some light on things. When I woke up this morning here I was”

                The officers, unsurprisingly, exchanged a glance with each other before proceeding with their questions. “Tell me, Mister......?” came the cliché asking of Jack’s name. He wasn’t quite sure what was going through his head at the time, but Jack didn’t trust these men.

                “You can just call me John” he answered. Sorry John he silently apologised to his friend.

                “Tell me John, do you know anything about... gears?”

                “Of course. They’re how we’ve advanced so far technologically. Everything is made with gears. But what would that have to do with this?” as he said this he hand instinctively went up to touch the necklace he wore.

                “Do you have something under your coat there?” asked the female official, who had remained silent so far.

                Jack’s eyes went wide as he realised they may have thought he had a gun. He slowly unzipped his coat. “No no, it’s nothing dangerous. Just a lucky necklace” he said, pulling the gear out from under his shirt to show them.

                They all exchanged a look that worried Jack.

                “Do you mind if we take a closer look at that?” she asked, moving forwards. When Jack looked around he realised that the big man no longer looked friendly. Jack took a step back.

                “I’d rather not. It’s very personal to me”. It was the last memento of his father, after all. The large man stepped forward.

                “I’d rather do this the easy way” the man said.

                Jack bolted for the kitchen, slamming his way through the door, hurting his shoulder in the process. He heard them scramble after him. He rushed for the window, but a vague sense of caution stopped him from jumping through the glass; not wanting to break it. Then a gunshot made his heart skip a beat. They have guns!? Another shot sounded through the air, going through the door to hit the window. The glass cracked completely. Oh no. He knew he only had one option left as the door was pushed open with so much force the sound echoed throughout the entire house as loud as the gunshot had. As the big man stepped through Jack shook his head, and with a swallow intended to push down his nerves that only ended up getting stuck in his dry throat, he put a foot up on the windowsill and jumped through the window, shielding his face as he crashed through to land on the hard ground outside.

                As he looked around to find somewhere to run he realised he was surrounded by further debris; wherever his house had landed had seemed to have a previous occupant. Some walls still stood; barely. Using this opportunity he ran as fast as he could, zigzagging through the maze of broken homes until he emerged in the street behind. There were people going up and down the streets but they appeared to be investigating similar sights of interest. Jack heard the sounds of the officials following him and ran on, finding some alleys to run down.

                Dread rose within him as he heard shouts and loud slamming sounds coming from above him. As he looked up he saw the silhouette of a man jumping from roof to roof. The silhouette then jumped down, grabbing onto one wall and bouncing off onto the opposite one to slow his downfall. He continued this until he landed gracefully onto the ground. It was the large man from earlier.

                “How?” was all Jack could ask, amazed at the man’s athleticism.

                The man looked at him quizzically. “You fool” he said amusedly. “You can’t outrun a Spinner. Surely everyone knows that?” As he said this a strange buzzing sound filled the air, and his shirt seemed to contort weirdly. Before Jack’s eyes the man’s shirt was suddenly shredded to pieces. Beneath it, covering the man’s chest, were spinning gears, gleaming menacingly in the morning light.

                What the hell is he? Jack wondered, shaking his head in hopelessness, slowly backing away. The man walked towards him. Then, suddenly, he was right in front of him. Jack jumped back in fear, tripping and falling to the ground. He grabbed the gear from around his neck, ripping it from the string it hung on, and thrust it forward. “Is this what you want? Why? What’s so special about this!?” he shouted in panic, angry that fate had chosen him to go through this. He’d been happy in his normal life, why was this gear that his father gave him so important? It was very likely that he would now die.

                The man looked down at him and reached for the gear. He stopped short, however, and looked at Jack with confusion. Actually, ‘towards’ would be a more accurate word. Jack realised that the man wasn’t looking at him, just at the general area where he was, as if he couldn’t see him. Jack slowly stood up. The man looked around in confusion.

                A warm sensation brought his attention to his hand; to the gear within it. It was emitting heat. Jack looked closely at it. He was taken aback completely when he realised there were movements across the surface of the gear. As he looked closer he realised what he was seeing were incredibly small gears that covered the surface of the larger gear he held in his hand. They had started turning; otherwise Jack probably would never have noticed them. Whatever had happened, it seemed the big man could no longer see him. Has this gear... caused me to become invisible? Impossible.... Yet the evidence was there before him. He decided to flee while he could and ran from the back alley, glancing back to see the so-called ‘Spinner’ looking around blindly, unable to find his victim.

                He ran as far as he could, but eventually he had to stop and rest; his lungs burning in agony from the exertion, and his throat dry with thirst. He was even starting to feel hungry.

                “What the hell is going on?” He asked out loud amidst gasps of breath. There were people walking the streets, going about their normal lives, but it seemed they could neither see nor hear Jack. Probably for the best he figured, considering people were after him. All for this... He looked once again at the Gear, looking at it in wonder. He needed answers. But who would have them? And how would he find them?

                He walked around the streets to gather information; picking up some food and drink from a local shop while he was at it. He couldn’t seem to turn the Gear off, so he left some money on the counter and took what he needed, feeling slightly bad about it, but at least he’d paid for it. From the signs about and from picking up little bits of conversation from the civilians walking the streets he found out that he was in the city of Tartiprocia, the capital city near his home village. The topic of houses having suddenly appeared in the city was hot gossip, it seemed. Jack felt the urge to go investigate the others, to see if anyone else from his village had also become stranded in this city, but he decided against it. He needed answers, and he had an inkling of where to get them.

                The Asylum.

The Gear had come from the madman who had come to Jack’s village a long time ago. The men who were after Jack were after the Gear, so it seemed like a good idea to find the man who had held it before him. That man had been taken to the Tartiprocia Mental Asylum.

                It took him more than a few hours to find the place without being able to ask around for help. He had to stop for a while to rest his legs on a local bench, then swiftly jump out the way as someone tried to sit on him. Finally, however, he found his way there.

                The building before him looked like any average hospital; except for the barred fencing surrounding the place, giving the impression of a prison.

                He walked past the guards at the entrance; so afraid that the Gear would suddenly stop working that when the one guard turned he jolted forwards, sure that the man had heard his heartbeat hammering against his chest. He hadn’t though, he had just moved to exchange words with the other guard; some witty remark about how dull their job was. Jack calmed down and moved on.

                Once he was inside the building he easily followed some staff around until he found their main office. He even bumped into one lady, and almost had a heart attack thinking he’d been found out. Instead, however, she looked around and, seeing no one, walked off at a fast pace in fear, probably thinking she’d bumped into a ghost of some sort. Jack almost laughed, until he remembered where he was. He read various documents littered around the tables until he found the set of drawers that he knew must contain the patient documents. He had to wait until the office was empty, however, because he could pull open the drawers and look through them.

                He had to stop and start several times as people came in and out of the room. Eventually, however, he found what he was looking for. He was glad that these pages had pictures on them; he could never forget that crazy, wild-eyed face.

                No name... That was strange. There was no information about him other than recorded observations and interviews since he’d arrived. They hadn’t found out anything about him. But Jack now had a room number; that was all he wanted.

                As he made his way around the facility to the right room he was pleased to see that the locks were on the outside of the doors. There also weren’t too many people wondering the halls. Finally he found himself at room number 47. He looked through the window first, to see what sight would greet him, but he found that he couldn’t see anyone in there. He could see a bed and a table with empty plates and cups upon them; but nothing else. He carefully and quietly opened the door and stepped in, closing it behind him. He looked around but there was no one in the room except him.

                Perhaps they’ve taken him somewhere for an interview, or something medical he reasoned. He sat down on the bed and waited.

                Some time later he heard noises from under the bed, and panicked as a man came crawling out from under it. Jack quickly jumped off the bed and retreated to the corner of the room. As the man stood up Jack knew it was him. He looked the same crazy man; except his hair had become more grey, longer, and his facial hair had grown out. If anything he looked more crazy.

               

                Jack was about to approach him when he heard a sound at the door and stopped in his tracks. The door opened and a man wearing a doctor’s clothes walked in with food and drink; which he placed upon the table. He gave the crazy old man a look, but otherwise said nothing. He took the empty plates and left.

                Jack breathed a sigh of relief and turned to the old man.

“Do you remember me?” he asked.

The man made no reply. Of course. No one can hear me. He looked down at the Gear in his hand. How do I turn this off? Then the man suddenly moved back to his bed, crawling under it again. Jack frowned in confusion, then followed. As he lifted up the sheets covering the underside of the bed he could find nothing. The man was no longer there. What the hell is going on? He crawled under the bed to find out. Then, suddenly, as he put his hand down on the floor to pull himself forwards, the floor wasn’t there, and he was falling down some hole. He exclaimed rudely out loud as he fell roughly on his face into this tunnel that must’ve been dug by the crazy old man. He recollected himself and felt about. The tunnel turned downwards steeply, and the man wasn’t about. He decided to go down the tunnel to find him.

As he went further down the tunnel his eyes became used to the dark and he could see about himself. That was when he realised the Gear was emitting a glow. Was it always glowing? He wondered.

                Finally he heard a scratching sound coming from ahead of him, and as he neared he saw the old man scratching at the ground beneath him with a spoon, trying to dig his way... down? How long has he been doing this? He wondered, amazed. The man looked up.

                “Who’s there?” he shouted, turning around in panic and looking at Jack. “You’re not a guard are you?” he asked, scratching at the walls around him in terror.

                “You can see me?” Jack asked. The man didn’t get a chance to respond, however, as Jack’s Gear suddenly glowed brighter, and started vibrating faster, so much that it hurt Jack’s hand. He dropped it, and it rolled down until it hit the spot where the old man had been scratching away at the ground.

                Both Jack and the old man shouted out in surprise then as the ground seemed to.... come apart around them. It just seemed to retract into the walls as the Gear touched it. Before they knew it they were both falling down.

                Jack had no idea how far they fell. He felt as if they should have fell out the other side of the earth by the time they came to a stop. Something seemed to catch them and gently place them on the floor.

                As he got to his feet he immediately looked up. The ceiling was melding back together, blocking off the way they came. As he peered up at the strange sight he noticed that it looked like.... gears turning and twisting back into place. That was when he looked down to survey his surroundings; and the sight astounded him.

                The area was illuminated as far as he could see in all directions. The light seemed to be coming from below them. They were standing on a metallic platform, and light seemed to shine upwards around the edges. That wasn’t the strangest part, however. As far as the eye could see something rose up from the depths, attached to each other and the ceiling above them: Gears.

                “What the hell is going on?” he asked, turning in circles, getting more confused by the second. In his confusion he had dropped the Gear, and the old man was touching it and whispering to it was if he was reunited with his lost child.

                “You wish to know what’s going on?” came a voice. Jack whirled towards the source, but found no one there.

                “Who’s there?” he asked, looking around desperately.

                Then, suddenly, someone just appeared there, as if she’d been standing there all along. She had an amused smile on her face, coupled with a strange look that made Jack feel as if she was looking down on him.

                “You must be from the surface” she said. “How did you get here?”

                As Jack looked at her he noticed she carried many different sorts of small guns around her waist, as well as various shaped daggers. Her hair was cut short, and her clothes looked like they were made out of a type of thick leather. She looked like someone ready for battle; someone Jack didn’t particularly want to mess with.

               

                “I have no idea” he said, sighing in hopelessness.

                She also sighed, but impatiently. “Just tell me what you know” she said, a hint of anger creeping into her voice.

                Jack looked around warily, but couldn’t see anything other than her to be cautious of. Then, turning back to her, he told her his story. When he was done she was nodding in understanding, as if it all made sense. “Well, that makes sense” she even said, with a happy shrug.

                “How? How the hell does it make sense?” Jack asked in bewilderment.

                The lady sighed.

                “Well, you’re already deep into this I guess” she said, walking closer towards them. She crouched down next to the old man to look at the gear, tearing it from his grasp for a closer inspection; despite his cries of protest. After she’d inspected it she gave it back, likely just to shut the crazy fool up.

                “So I’ll start with the most important fact; one that, from the expression on your face, you obviously didn’t know. Gears make the world. They are what makes the world turn, change, and altogether work.”

                Jack wore an expression of horror, confusion, and disbelief all rolled into one. The woman gave a dark chuckle and carried on with her explanation.

                “That’s where your little Gear here comes in. This Gear is one of the many Gears that make up the world. It belongs down here; a part of the system of cogs. It’s not a man-made Gear. It’s not intended for our human devices. And that’s why you may have found it has unusual powers.”

                “This is way too much… I just work for a mining company…” Jack said, more to himself than anyone, shaking his head sadly.

                “Yes, well, these things happen” she said dismissively. “Anyway, those people who were after you? They were most likely part of the Konaeix Organisation.” Noticing Jack’s blank look, she explained further. “Have you ever heard of Kona?”

                “Of course. They’re a massive technological company. They create and distribute… well… everything”

                “Their full name is Konaeix. They have ties in the government, and they can pretty much do what they like. Their aim is to get their hands on the Gears that make up the world, so that they can control it and do whatever they like. If they had control of the world they could do anything; even moving mountains and rivers. They could completely rebuild the world, destroying cities and villages in the process”

                Suddenly Jack remembered his own village, that had somehow appeared in Tartiprocia. Was this the work of these ‘Konaeix’ people?

                “What am I meant to do now?” he asked helplessly.

                “Guess there’s only one thing for it” she replied nonchalantly. “You’re going to have to come with me and meet the rest of our resistance. We’re here to stop them from achieving their twisted dreams.”

                Jack’s mind was still whirling. He didn’t feel like he had a choice, however. He couldn’t get back up to the surface, as far as he knew. He went over to the old man and raised him to his feet (he still had the Gear in his hands, staring at it and not paying attention to anything else).

                “Lead the way” he said sadly.

                She looked at him curiously, then gave a shrub and walked off, towards the edge of the platform. Jack followed her, then gasped in amazement as a platform rose up from the depths as the woman  approached it, forming a path for her. As he peered over the edge he saw that it was held up by Gears; like everything else, it seemed.

Jack had no idea where she was leading him to, nor what really was going on, despite her explanation. It seemed like he had just walked into some strange new world.

The Man of God

I want to write the next part of the Wanderer story, but until then here's a short one I writ a while back. My thoughts on what would drive a man to become a terrible being; Love, of course. Here is my short story:


In the 12th Century there was a man whose good nature was unquestioned. He was a believer of Christianity, and he served the Church in order to spread his Faith and combat heresies and Injustices.

He became a man of great renown and skill, and he always used his advantages to help others. As is always with the goodly heroes of this type of origin, during his travels he came across a beautiful girl who he fell in love with, and married.

Even though happily married, the union sanctified in the eyes of the Church, the man faithful to God went to fight in His name; to fight for justice, peace, and other goodly ideals across England.

He was sent off to Europe, away from home, to continue the quest of spreading the Holy word to other countries.

While he was gone, however, his loving wife heard word of his death and, stricken with grief, she chose to end her own life rather than live without him.

When the man returned from his ordeal to find his wife gone from this world, he, too, was stricken with grief. However, with his faith, he decided to live out the rest of his life in service to his religion, comforted in the belief that upon his eventual death he would be reunited with his loved one in Heaven.


And so, one day, after a long and goodly life, he died of old age and was rewarded with eternal paradise. He was given everything he could ever want; except for her.

By taking her own life she had sinned, and because of her sin she had been condemned to Hell. So, even though he had lived his life for God, he was not given his Love.

Religion is one of the most powerful driving forces for men, especially this man. However, one thing that sometimes rules a man’s heart above religion is Love. The man was powerless to do anything though. When it comes to God and His Justice we can simply learn, understand, and obey. We cannot change what is Good. He had no way to bring his beloved to Heaven, for by taking her own life she had defied God and committed a heresy. The one thing a man will always have power over, however, is his own soul. And so, in an effort to be reunited, the goodly man filled his soul with darkness and his mind will evil thoughts.

He filled himself with Lust, Greed, Gluttony, Sloth, Envy, Pride and Wrath. Even though he had already been admitted to heaven his soul became a curse upon it, and so he was cast out into damnation. He descended to the hells; as he had wanted.

Once again, however, even though Man has power over his own soul, he has no power when it comes to God and the Devil, to Heaven and to Hell.

The Devil was indeed joyful at his luck to be given such a tormented soul. And, even though Man and Wife were both in Hell, the Devil kept them apart; torturing them with their never ending search for each other.

The Wanderer

This is a fun little project that I really need to get back to. I wanted to try a diary-like presentation of a story. I'll post the next parts shortly:

September 4^th, 1478

I decided to, before continuing my travels, visit the tombs of my Father and Brother.  I traveled to Baltani, where my father was rumoured to have died near, and constructed a proper burial for him, although I could not find his body. Even that conniving fool, who used the beliefs of apparently himself and for definite others merely for his own gain, I still held some sentiment towards.

I then visited my older brother’s tomb. It took me a while, and a lot of researching and prying, but I finally found his tomb in Târgoviște. What a nostalgic location for his death. It brought back memories of a better time, when I used to live there with my younger brother. Strange, then, that it is my older brother I find there now. I was almost horrified when I found his remains. There were scratch marks on the walls of the tomb he had been buried in, and the bones of his fingers were worn to such a degree…. It was obvious he had been put in here…. Alive. It shocked me, to be sure, but it wasn't so mortifying after the massacres and tortures I myself have inflicted upon people. Some would even call me a monster; and to that statement, many have. Besides, that unworthy bastard always received the luck and advantages in life that I was so deprived. I had to make myself what he was given.

There was no need to visit my younger brother. I already knew what had become of him.

Midgard

So.... first post. I'm going to post many short stories and introductions to large stories here to practice and see how they are received. I may also post some pictures and drawings. Anyways, onto the first story introduction. This is one I writ for an idea I have for a story set in a futuristic world, possibly based on Norse mythology:

It was the thirtieth day of the month. This meant that, in his village, all could see the remarkable monthly phenomenon up above.

As is usual for the night, there were numerous lights that lit up the sky like stars. The giant construct that held these lights could also be seen. But, as is only seen once a month, the spectacle at the end of this miraculous construct was also visible.

There it was, up above, like a silent protector. The giant serpent’s head that glowed magnificently like the mythical moon. Lights shone down from it, and ran down the body trailing behind it, which everyone knew wrapped around the earth.

The giant mechanism was a sign to all that they were safe, despite the sun having died a long time ago. The mechanical serpent wrapped around the earth and heated it, protecting everyone from space that surrounded them, threatening to rush in and destroy their world.