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Hey yall! This is my first published works. It's almost a journal entry and I wanted to share it in all its imperfect glory. Please support me and grab an e-copy. I hope to be able to have some of these printed soon. Thanks and Happy Reading! 
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This was a project that was supposed to be a dual project between my mama and myself. We had a laugh about two serial killers meeting on the road. I was to write about one who was an uber driver and she was supposed to write about the other who's a trucker. I'm still waiting on her part. Here's mine. Chapter 1Killing Time
"That's funny, isn't it? Just the thought. Of killing… time. Of course, we all do it. That's a fact. The only question is how? How do we kill it? And it's a beautiful thing. That every moment gives us a new way. A new way to kill it. But of course we all find ways to get trapped in old, habitual, slaughtering rituals. The religious people have their silly rituals. Drug addicts have theirs. Married couples kill their time doing what they do and so on and so forth. Now, professionals would say that I'm some kind of psychotic. But I'm here to tell you; as hard as it might be to believe. I am totally sane. I can tell that you don't believe me but well I chose this life. I chose… and choose every day that it's possible to move, to kill someone. You see I used to never sit still as a child. Couldn't do it. Impossible. But my folks got me to see someone about it. A professional. Whatever the hell that is. And he said I had problems. Like not right in the head. Mad. That made me so mad. I began; immediately to work it in my mind. I worked it up to a point where I had a focused energy. Focused sharp as a diamond blade and then used that energy to decide. Decide right then and there! To sit still. I didn't move for 4 years. They ran tests and did all they could to make me move. They couldn't find anything wrong with me. But then, they came up with something that could be wrong with me. Came up! Came up with it I say! Came up with a wrongness. Maybe that's what a professional is. Someone that makes up problems where non exist. But we love that don't we? To move only when something is wrong. If nothings wrong then we don't move. But I didn't move you see. I didn't move at all! I didn't move because I saw then that there was nothing. Nothing called wrong. Nothing called a problem. Nothing. But because a professional; a person that creates problems says something is wrong well then something must be wrong. Something must be wrong with someone who is completely in their right mind. Never been anywhere else but right in my mind. Now that's a sane mind! But you see, where we differ is you get caught up by the nonsense that the world says you should. You should think this way and not that. You should know this, you should do this and on and on and on. Do you see the insanity of it all?! I mean it's utterly ridiculous to simply follow along with what any one other than one's self says or thinks! Because the experts make the shit up! You see it?! You see?! Yes. You see." I looked deep into… Harold? Yes, Harold's eyes. I watched as the life drifted slowly . Wrung from his neck and choked out of him. As I choked the living source from his mortal coil. I stared into his eyes as they faded. A deep release gave me a chill that shot down my spine. I exhaled long and deep. I dropped the shell of Harold. I closed my eyes and heard the thud against the brick floor. When I opened my eyes a small trickle of blood had begun to run from his bald head. I stood. I stepped away from the trickle that had begun to pool. I searched him and grabbed his car keys and wallet. "I thank you for your patronage, sir." I winked at the shell and giggled. How silly. Then I grabbed the trash from the can just behind the desk. I walked out of the front door and dumped the trash before going to his car. Harold's car. It's dirty but no problem. I throw a few things out of the backseat and then get in. I look at the seats and the dash. Look into the cup holders. Surprisingly little grime in them. Turned over the key. Didn't sound bad though so I checked the gas. Then I logged into the driver app. @llenC@mpb3ll59 M@k3datGooWap And adjusted my mirrors. Then drove off. Rain fell. Sunrise was still a few hours away, when I got a ping. "Oh nice!" I pulled up to see a family of three. A nice looking couple with a child. I smiled at them. The man packed his family into the car first then their luggage second. I could have driven away as he packed the luggage in the back. "You are Allen right?" I smiled. "Yes I am. You guys, the Pearsons?" "Yep, we sure are!" It was then that I noticed the girl. The girl could have been twelve or thirteen years old and should have been locked into her phone but was instead staring at me. At the back of my seat when she saw me look at her. Then back at me when she thought I wasn't looking. I began to wonder if she had the sense… Knowing is what I call a sense that some people have about others. They know when you don't follow the rules. They know when you're different. They know you. They know. But I know when they know. I smiled at the child long enough so that she saw it. She stuffed herself into her phone then. Texting frantically. I chuckled. The man got into the car. Harold's passenger seat, I remembered. "You guys were looking for a different car I know!" "Oh, we barely noticed!" Said the man. "We figured you were the guy. You stopped after all." Said the woman. To which I simply grinned. "Hadn't been out there long had you?" "No, not long at all." She said. I smiled and said, "Well buckle in for a long one. We'll be there in about an hour thirty." I’ve been told that I have a great smile, you know? Really disarming. But I was glad the small talk part of this was done. I hate that people feel they must talk during these kinds of interactions. But a sheep will follow the herd after all. And a wolf... We drove in silence for some time. Forty six minutes. The girl and woman had fallen asleep, I could see in the rear view mirror. Typically before I do it, I like to… check the vibe. "So, how long have you lived here?" "Oh we don't. We're from Brewton Alabama actually. I doubt you'd know it." I laughed to soften my inquiry. "Ahh see I was thinking Atlanta or Tennessee. But okay I hear it now. That's Brewton huh? That's what Brewton sounds like?" He smiled and gave me a weak chuckle. "Yeah, I suppose it does." He looked out at the water droplets along the window. I looked at him. Watched him. But the road kept steady all the while. "But really…" He began again. "Really this is more like a mask you know?" "A mask?." Now this was interesting. “You mean like you don’t feel like you fit?” They like when you confuse words and speak before you finish thinking about the meanings. So I did just that. "Well with my accent and where I’m from, I often feel… less than.” Then he stopped. I watched him. My grip tightened on Harold’s wheel. “It's like-like a- a shell that we wear around our real selves. Too afraid to show up as we are. Even though Jesus told us to do so. We are enough. Sorry. I don’t know why I’m telling you this." With lots of nodding and grunts of agreement I knew he was taken. Taken with the idea that we were on the same page. He would trust me to a new degree now. Simply because I had nodded and grunted to his thinking aloud. “Yeah, no I get that.” "We're up here for her father's funeral and I've had to wear a-a mask the entire trip!" "Let me guess, family don't like you?" His lips tucked and his eyebrows rose. Then he smiled. "Yeah. " He was still looking for a real explanation. As if there were some mechanical process to reading his situation. I laughed at the thought. But he read it I’m sure, as if I was laughing compassionately at his situation. "Trust me–" I said, "-brother, been there, done that. I know that look anywhere, man." They enjoy colloquial nomenclature. Man, Bruh, bro, cuz, homie, buddy, etcetera. And with that, there it was, the head bob, eye slant and shoulder drop. Relaxed. Calmed. Guard down. Vulnerable. "Man, bruh it's been hell. The whole thing! I mean I'm here ain't I? I'm here tryna support your sisters, your aunts and the whole damned family. Just like I've been doing! But they just don't-" "-Just don't see it." "Exactly!" I shook my head in deep empathetic understanding. Then I tested it. Tested the mask. This would determine how the rest of this drive would go. "Bruh, thing is our kind of love that we give from behind the scenes ain't what folk be looking for." "That shit is crazy bruh for real though. Cause even though I don't make enough money to buy four plane tickets to Boston and back again– "Wait, why four?" "We had to fly her daddy's body back too." "Damn!" I say, then cover my mouth with a fist. A fist seems more fitting for the character I was playing. Allen. Allen covers his mouth with his fist and I gather myself after getting a bit loud. The girls didn't stir. They were out cold. "I'm saying bruh! He was in Bama checking in on us, then died on my couch, for me to have to pay to get him back to his family where he should have been the whole time! Instead of checking on us. Shit, really checking on me. Like I'm… Like I ain't no… " He began to mumble something to himself. I simply nodded in a knowing way and- “Mmmm.” "Not to mention. Not to mention-" Ohh that was good, he swelled and doubled up on the sentence fragment and put emphasis on the second time he said it. I liked that. An exhaustive use of emotional energy does make one tired. "-that I also put some toward his funeral costs too. But even that…" He faded off and turned to look into the window. Into the water droplets. Into his thoughts. He left the rest up to me. "Aye man I feel it. But at least you're headed home finally. Soon, it’ll be over before you know it." He nodded. I nodded. He smiled. I smiled. I relaxed in the seat and that was it. He relaxed in his. He leaned against the window and was asleep before I drove past the next exit. Easy. Chapter 2Dark Road I watched the man. His eyes faded and drooped and he had fully fallen asleep when I changed the angle of my phone screen to lean toward me, turned the volume down and took a few turns here and there to end up behind an old railway and a bleach plant. Then I locked the doors. The man began to stir as he felt the car come to a stop.. "You know, there's probably some better way to explain this extraordinary circumstance." I said. He looked around; wiping his face, peering through the fog on the window, thinking; I suppose, that I was talking about construction or something of the like. He looked at me confused when he noticed and then stared at the blade in my hand. "But there's really only this." "Bruh, what the f-" I choked his chubby throat with one hand and sunk the metal deep into his lung. There was commotion and sounds of struggle; my seat bumped but I held onto his throat and stared into his eyes; watching the life fall away from him. He was clinging desperately to it: his life. His arms had been swinging wildly but began to get weak. That's when I saw it was time. "What is a dream? I mean what is it?!" I shook his shoulder for emphasis "What is a life? I mean we're here of course and we do as we do but what is the difference between a life and a dream?” The girl had awakened and began to scream. “Surely a dream is a life on its own. We only have fragmented experiences of it. But the same could be said of life… don't you see?" I looked into his eyes as tears streamed from them and he died. I left the knife in his chest. From there, I took a deep breath and realized that it was silent. The girls were gone. "That's not good." Harold’s car was older. So they must have just unlocked it somehow and slipped away while I was in my reverie. There was a lot of ground to hide and run there. This was not good at all. So I began to drive. Windows down. Looking for them. Listening for them. After a while I heard somethin like a drumming. I looked and saw the mother running deeper into this narrow path toward the bleach plant. She was fast. I leapt from the car window, the car rolled on. I rolled, landed and dashed down the lane. I was catching up when she looked back at me. Screamed. Threw something. I caught the rock and kept running. She turned down a wider lane overgrown with tall grasses. She was backing up toward a dead end. Sweat beaded down her pretty face. A single tear fell down her pretty cheek. Her pretty lips trembled. So did her long shapely legs. I hadn't looked at her before then truly but I knew from that moment on, that this was a bad bitch. I said so. "You're very pretty." She spat at me. It fell short. “Get the fuck away from me you freak!” She screamed. I smiled and took a step forward. "I’m coming closer. And I want more than spit and a rock I'm afraid." She screamed louder and it rang and bounced off of the rusty metal walls that closed in around us. She tried feebly side stepping to get around me but ran directly into me. She was tall. Taller than me. I embraced her as she fought me; weakly. It made me smile. I began to hug her. Oh the shape of her in my arms felt so sweet. I hugged tighter. "We all enjoy the frivolity of existence. Don't we? We get to enjoy the fruits of labor we hadn't done. We justify our shortcomings." Tighter. She still punched at my ribs and pinched and bit me where she could. She drew blood from my neck. Its amazing, even in survival, weak people are weak. She could have torn my throat out with her teeth or a chunk out of my face. But she simply writhed. Weaker and weaker every moment. My teeth were gritted now as I squeezed. "We complain about the average. But the average is amazing if you think about it.But we don’t think about it do we? We always want more. Don't we?" I squeezed. Baring my teeth and she stopped screaming! "But if we look into this thing. This now, this here-ness; we'll see that there is no time later for change. Because later doesn't exist. There is only now! That’s when I felt it. The light ‘pop’ of her spine in my embrace. "And now is all there is and all that will ever be!" I quickly repositioned my arms. Laid her pretty body on the ground. I wrapped my hands around her lovely neck. She wasn’t dead. Only paralyzed. “Now, don’t go anywhere.” I said as I stood looking at her with a smile. I’d bring her back and we’d all have a nice little family gathering. She looked into me then and I saw all the familiar hate give way to fear as she realized what I was going to do. Then her eyes looked past me. That was new. I thought. A burst of pain exploded in my right hip. Then again. I spun in a haze of confusion and sharp pain. There stood the girl; knife in hand stabbing me in the chest as I looked at her in disbelief! I grabbed her hand! "This is not how this is supposed to go. Please stop." The blood made my hand slippery. She managed to escape and cut my hand too. I looked at my hand. I looked at the blooming red on my shirt and pants. I blinked. "There is pain. But suffering only exists in the mind." My index finger was cut to the bone and a chunk of my thumb was hanging on by a sliver of skin. I tried to flex them. Both were stiff. The pain was excruciating. I watched as the blood gushed in pulses. Fascinating. Life truly does exist in waves. I smiled at the thought and looked around to see I was alone again. The woman was there of course, her legs were paralyzed and probably her arms too. But she no longer interested me. The girl. She was like me. I’d seen it in Harold’s car but I had not imagined anything like this. I needed to speak to her. "So the circus continues." Immediately, I found a bloody hand print along one of the walls leading to the car; which I hadn't considered. Hindsight is twenty twenty. I stood in the narrow alleyway looking at the car; headlights blinding me. "Another pivotal moment. One after another. Does Free Will exist? Are you free to choose in this moment, to walk away? In the face of harms from the near past and promise of harm in the present? Free to leave the anger you must feel the hate in your heart? Deeply engaged with the only sensation that is clear in your sight and in your mind? The only sensation in the here and now and simply let it pass?" I spoke quietly, so I don't know if she heard me… probably not but the car shot forward. I leapt on top of the small car as it jammed and came to a sudden stop into the narrowing path. I held on. Somehow I held on. Broken fingers and all. It had taken me by such surprise that I had to catch my breath. I had flipped upside down on the top of the car, so rolled over to the right side up. My head was on fire. I hopped off the car to the driver seat. Empty. I looked around and saw a shadow slipping into the woods. My hip was tight and weak. I limped forward and smiled. “This is interesting.” I limped into the woods after her. Chapter 3The Woods I couldn't hear her. I thought she’d be crashing and smashing her way through the trees. It was a beautiful morning. The forest was quiet; the air was crisp; The sky was slowly brightening into a dark blue face with wispy airy clouds scattered about. It made me smile. "Excuse me. Little girl!” I yelled out. “Please. Trust me, I understand your fears. But I assure you I am not crazy! Simply listen and you'll see!" I was sure she was near. Birds began cawing and crying for breakfast. I inhaled deeply and thought about how I felt like a child running through the trees of the front yard to catch the bus to school. It would be early just like this. Crisp and dim. Suddenly it was plain as day. She was watching me. She was somewhere I couldn’t go.But she was watching and listening. "Everything we are, is each other.” I started. “I wouldn't exist were it not for you. And you wouldn't exist without me." Birds scrambled in a bush nearby. "You give me understanding of myself don't you see? Because how can a higher know its high without a low? It wasn’t birds in that bush. I began to creep closer. “How can light be light without darkness? How can silence be without noise? You give me a chance to speak and I give you a chance to listen. To listen.” It was happening. I would spring on her any moment now as she hid in that bush. “To Listen! To listen to reason. Listen! Listen! Listen!” I tore through the bush and revealed… nothing. As I looked I knew she’d turned the tables and I was the hunt. I smiled. And then… Silence. Next thing I knew, I rose and the fire in my head swelled and turned to a pulsing numbness. Warmth trickled down the back of my neck as I walked. I walked until the sounds of the woods ran through me. I was the beast. Then became the wood itself. I walked on and became the wind. And kept walking. Chapter 4 Just In Time The sun is up and it has become a beautiful day. I'm holding my good thumb out for a ride. No takers yet. But I'm hopeful. Oh here, a fellow has just pulled over. "Hey there buddy. Where you going?" "Hi there. I'm not sure where I'm going actually." I smiled. His face changed slightly when he saw my ragged hand. I looked at it then myself. "A hospital might be a good start." I said with a grin. They like that. But he didn't. "Mmhmm. Well I hope you make it wherever you're going." He said before he drove off. I looked down at my hand and sighed before trying again. Surely that little girl would have reached authorities by now. So I began to walk. I walked down to a small corner store just off exit 78. I grabbed a baseball cap off the hood of a car and entered the store. A bottle of isopropyl alcohol, a lighter, a knife, a bag of chips and a red t-shirt. I threw it onto the counter top. The clerk looked at me. “That'll be twelve ninety six." "Beautiful day out today isn't it?" I said to him with a smile. He looked at me, perplexity filling the silence. "It is.” He said after thirty seven seconds. Then, “That'll be twelve ni-" "Ninety six, yes I heard you. I do need a favor. Can you do me a favor, friend? Answer me one question. Are you a liar?" "What?" "Lie. Do you lie?" "Sir, that'll be twelve ninety six." He repeated again and began to reach beneath the counter. I push a fold of bills onto the counter. "Do you lie?" He looked at my face. Taken aback by the amount of money he froze and looked at me. But never my eyes. "Depends on what the favor is.” He said, sliding the money slowly off the counter. I smiled. "Well… do you see me?" I watched it slowly formulate in him. He shook his head slowly and said, "No." I smiled my winning smile and left the store. I went around back and found an outhouse. This would do. I thought. I sat on the toilet, took off my shirt and folded it up. I bit down onto the bloody cloth as I seared the flesh of the maimed hand with the red hot pocket knife. Then doused the flesh with alcohol. Then I tore the old shirt into strips and wrapped one strip around the hand again. Fresh. I did the same to the stab wounds. The pain was the worst of it. I limped my way back to the road. Refreshed. The bag of chips covered my maimed hand and I walked down the road sticking out the thumb of my good hand when an old semi pulled over and the window rolled down. A chubby man with the face of an old baby pulled shades down to reveal small pig-like eyes. Hungry eyes. He licked him wormy lips and scratched at the scruff beneath his folds of neck. "Need a ride?" I smiled. "You came just in time." I said and climbed in. Inspired by another Phandigrams art piece.  He’d done it and what’s more, he did it with Secrecy.
His mistress and consort. She sheltered him further now as her black mists rose and spread throughout the empty white of the Kiln. The Kiln of Creation. He looked at the ring and saw immediately how Hru hadn’t used it in its fullest capacity. The ring of O. He watched as it crackled and flickered with new patterns and shapes as the wild lighting that haloed the crown of the ring reached further and further into the white nothingness. He watched in wonder at its beauty. The lightning fingered the white space, cutting and opening it where it touched, revealing a beautiful fullness beneath. Darkness, he called it. As he got closer and peered his golden eye into the hungry Darkness that ate at the edges of the nothing, he heard and saw something new. Something he hadn’t seen when Hru used the ring before. He raised the ring high and struck away the dull empty white and beheld in this black beautiful Darkness, he could see motion and dancing. He could hear sound and music. He bent his will toward one of the shifting shapes in front of him and it began to pull color and form from the darkness around itself. He reached his hands into the dark and massaged the shape free from the black mass before him. Slowly, he eased the form free, much like he’d done to free the Ring of O from the Sol Root. The form was simple but robust, curved and pleasing to him. He felt its strength as the thing felt around and explored its new space. He worked another free from the dark, and another. And each one, because he wasn’t forcing them into a shape as Hru had done, was as unique as the last and held firm as Hru’s had not. This pleased him deeply. He soon found that he needed a space to place all these unique beings. He needed light to make space and so condensed the lightning constantly pouring from the ring and condensed and condensed it. The pressure threatened to tear his arms to shreds should he fail to hold it. And in an instant he thought he’d be overwhelmed, Secrecy was there, adding her own power to his. The gravity of the molten center grew and he raised it to pulse above them. In the effort a cry tore from his throat and all the black beings shook and danced with fear and curiosity as they watched. A force unlike anything seen or heard exploded at the zenith of this terrible display of power, a red hotness bubbled into existence; the first sustaining light! Fire was born. Fire spewed and erupted into the infinite dazzling darkness, specking the fresh born infinity with points of light that burned orange, purple, blue, and red. Stars, he sang as he pressed the roiling mass of heat and light into the floor between his feet, where it stayed; gyrating and percolating through the darkness, emitting waves of motion. From this motion came the breath and life of shadows that rose for the first time to join the dance of the dark figures in the midst of creation. His and Secrecy’s creation! Ati. He watched as the fire leapt and the darkness danced away, only to come rushing back. He smiled as the shadows and figures laughed and hooted, sang and cried and called and barked and howled and were filled with such a wild ecstasy, he called it; Life. Making and change and rising and falling and death and destruction. Beauty. The pulsing rhythm flowed through him and he reverberated it back giving it a crackling of golden veins that shot through and lit all the black looming shapes. And all danced and pulsed to the rhythm of creation. And all were deaf to the added down beat of the deep booming at the great gate that led into the Kiln. All but Kor. Who danced all the wilder for it. He lost himself in this world of dark suggestion and infinite possibility. The rhythmic driving beat deepened and the music of creation swelled throughout the Kiln. Kor wept as his brother broke through the gate and halted in the bead of light that showed through Secrecy. The three of them appeared then and their shadows stretched tall as towers behind them. Stop! Hru's voice rang out but Kor was beyond caring, this was his place now, built for him to dance and make and sing! Ord raised his great hammer and smashed the floor which split asunder etching a crack of white that bled into the darkness. The three Witnesses watched in disbelief as Kor spun and threw out his bare right hand and the darkness that split before Ord's mighty hammer, stretched, flexed and pulled itself back together again. Mel, her sharp eyes flitting around the Kiln finding life all about her, still as a silver statue, unknowable, a single tear drifting down her cheek. Ord fell to one knee, but did not bow his head. For his eyes could not leave his brother, who he beheld for the first time, as he truly was. Jealousy manifesting in his eyes as he saw the sheer power of his brother's naked hand. Hru, stunned to stillness and silence, looked from Kor, to the floor, to Ord, to Mel and finally back to Kor who stood alone, imminent, robed in Secrecy. Kor’s smooth brown face lit from above by the red hot pulsing core he'd made. The constant flashing of lightning climbing up and down the left side of his body and the living shadows that twisted and danced about him made Hru exhale. Awe-some. He heard a voice say. His own. He realized. Kor’s visage and the look on his other brother and sister’s faces began to weave a tapestry of something new in the mind of Hru. Something A Witness had never experienced. Fear. To begin myself writing more consistently I am trying this method to just jot down whatever is on my mind. It may or may not work but: only one way to find out. Angelica took that thing outside and beat it with a spoon. Screaming to high heavens Cynthia charged at Angelica and tackled the older girl off the stairs and clear into the grass of the backyard. Angelica was breathlessly trying to defend herself after Cynthia had landed on the girl's stomach. The doll lay on the porch step, a button eye hanging piteously off the lifelike face.
Cynthia punched and slammed and poked and scratched and choked and mashed and even bit Angelica until the older girl was forced to ball up in defense of the ruthless onslaught. Suddenly she was hovering in the air, being pulled off and away from the girl who’d hurt Thomas! Cynthia fought scrambling like a crab held by its back to get on the ground and continue punching Angelica. But before she knew it she was inside, her feet being pressed firmly onto the floor so that she was held in place. Her father was looking at her. Staring. The look on his face was desperate. Searching. “Cynthia…” She stared at him. All the anger aimlessly flailed as it lost its source and cooled. But she didn’t want it to cool. She wanted to RAGE at Angelica some more. She wanted to make her pay for Thomas’ sake! But in front of her stood someone who had nothing to do with any of it. She didn’t know what to do with any of the writhing hate that swam through her. She screamed! He never broke eye contact. His staring eyes made her feel stupid and she decided he was in her way! She reached up to scratch him, he grabbed her hand and held it, but she wasted no time and threw up the other hand to scratch him with. He caught that too and she tried to bite his hand. But he was too quick. He spun her up and into the air and held her tight against him so that she couldn’t do anything but scream and cry. Inspired by this art Jean-François Millet’s The Gleaners, painted in 1857. Housed in the Musée d’Orsay.  Maryland rose, presing fists into her low back and leaning she hollered, “Ooohhh lawdy lawdy lord. I done gone and hurt my back again y’all!” Odessa and HaddieMae giggled. “Now I don’t know what yall is laughing at cause you do this long nuff, yo back gone go out too.” The two girls giggled.
Odessa holding the bag of wheat the three picked said, “Well ma’am ya know you coulda been the one holding the grain yall is finding. You ain’t have to be bending over and tugging up all the lil ole grains you find in the dirt.” “Ohh hush up and bring that bag here.” Maryland dumped the grain into the bag. Then HaddieMae stood straight and said in her way, “Shit, I wouldn't want to be doing none of this mess if I was to get as old as you!” “HaddieMae!” Odessa said in shock. “What girl? You was thinking it too.” Maryland just looked at the both of them mouth slightly ajar. Remembering what it was to be a young girl. How she used to be looking at old Maisey and laughing at her from time to time. Now here she was, in old Maisey’s place, with a bad back no less. A mirthless laugh escaped in a deep huff. “Well girlie, you ain’t wrong.” She stretched and pushed her fists deeper into the small of her back looking off into the horizon over the tree line. She didn’t know what came over her to talk but the words just began to come. “I wanted to be a seamstress.” Birds flew from the tree tops and into the dimming blue sky. “I wanted to make real pretty dresses for all the rich womens and pretty guhls to come to Maryland’s shop. My shop. Buy my dresses and eat nice little foods like the Mistress and her friends and sip on tea or coffee. Or go dance! Ohh to see em twirl and twist about in a pretty lil ole dress I made.” She could see it now as she laughed. “Hahaha. Reckon then it’d make sense why I kept all these white teeth in my head. To smile and smile and smile.” She sniffed and bent her back to tug the grain stalks from the dry hard earth again. The girls were still and silent for a long while before one, then the other got back to work. This is a short story inspired by the AWESOME art of Phandigrams  Xanda the Wyndmahn
He left the golden hall, turning his back on the Golden Empress of Padush. His robes billowed and his ebony wood staff hummed as he walked, the resonant sound echoing off the marble walls of the long hall. Colossal, white terraces opened up on either side, bathed in sunlight and arched to overlook the city below. The city cascaded off into the open blue sky along the jagged mountainside. He left the massive terraces behind and entered a long room that bottle necked into the High Stair. Sunlight shot into the enclosed space through slit windows where nothing but the sky above could be seen. The sound of his hard, calloused feet against the cold black marble boomed in his ears like a heavy war drum, as he ruminated on what the empress had said. He descended the High Stair and reached the White Courtyard. Pale pink, shimmering gold, and dazzling white leaves shone bright in the sunlit courtyard as rainbow trees waved in the soft breeze. He passed the ivory guards who stood to either side of the entrance. The two guards; who seemed to be in a sort of trance, suddenly stood at attention and gripped their spears tightly. As if his passing had awoken them from the stupor. One wiped his mouth free of spittel and yelled, “Yeah, and we don’t wanna see you here again, ya damned tramp!” A more hollow being, might have given the insult some attention but the guard might have as well have shouted at a stone or a tree; for he was more like one of those. He continued down the Golden Stair and into the Lord’s district. He stopped and stroked his nappy beard as he looked back and reflected on the long and pointless walk up and down the Golden Spear of Padush. His jaw clenched and he ground his teeth. He thought about all the places he’d been since the deep season of cold and now the trees along the road of the Lord’s District had begun to transmute once again. He’d ridden through the desert, to warn the kings of Kruul. He’d sailed to the far isles to speak to the Lord of Liedy. He’d descended the deep crater to converse with the elder of Jashish. Even flew to the cloud peaks to plead to the Council of Lovak. But no matter the language, the culture, or species; they’d all said the same thing. The Kings had whispered it. The Lord had painted it out. The Elder expounded upon it. And The Council… The council would still be talking about it even now and no closer to coming to a decision. He wondered if they’d even truly heard his warning. “The soil of Orb is dying.” He’d said. And each of Orb’s fairweather leaders had replied, “What am I to do?” Why lead if you see and think in the same way as those around you? He chewed on the thought. Useless! He spat upon the cedar street. He descended into the city proper, from the Golden Stair. He was deep in thought when the pitter-patter of small feet emerged from the hustle and bustle of the lively city road and caught up to his long, single minded strides. The presence said nothing but he felt the anticipation emanating beside him. The intensity grew and built before the high musical voice said, “Well? What’d she say?”. He was muttering to himself; a bad habit, he stopped and turned, looking at the little one. Her huge frog-like eyes stared up at him in wonder. His apprentice hailed from the brown bogs of Eteey and had the beautiful look of those folk. He had expected no more from the empress than he’d gotten from any of the others but even so, he could not say it aloud. His anger was building and if he spoke now… he simply shook his head. Her eyes dissolved into wells of disappointment at the realization. “But our leaders are supposed to lead us gently into change. That’s why they have the power of the people!” She said, her innocence pried the words free from his mouth, “They will do nothing!” The anger was rising in him as the words flowed. “It seems, elected or born into the station; these so-called leaders hold no respect for life and only seek to please the ones who secure their seat to power.” His staff began to emanate waves of heat and bent the air around him. “They will not suffer the consequences of their own actions and so they do not care!” His dark fathomless eyes lit with a fiery shock of orange. His anger was upon him now and would only grow, deepening its roots into his power. Smooth sailing clouds suddenly slowed, bulked, and began to grow dark in the midst of the clear and beautiful day. “Do the fools think the seats they sit upon were built in a day?! The cities? The roads?! The very fruit that hangs from the trees of plenty?! Did Orb herself sprout all these things in a day!?” Passers by and folk bustling about their business had begun to stop and watch or else walk widely around the odd pair. Some were pointing, making correlations to the storm brewing directly above and the ragged stranger’s anger. Wind howled, whistling through the streets and alleys as the crack of lightning split the blackening clouds with purple and white veins. People fell to kneel and pray, some others ran and hid inside of buildings, abandoning carts, goods, and crying children. No one stood near Xanda the Windman, as his deep echoing voice boomed;each word bludgeoning the air itself. “Why have power if you will not use it!” He cried to himself or maybe… to someone else who wasn’t there: or else was all around. “We’ll all die for fear of action like FOOLS!” Thunder shook the mountainside-city and the streets began to rumble and shake. A sound like the tearing of roots echoed across the mountain range as his anger threatened to tear the city off its foundations. The wind whipped through the open road and sent debris careening through the air. His dark eyes were flaming with anger. Anger led to madness, a quenchless, hungry, frenzy of flame. He’d break this world wide open. He’d tear it all down and have the people start again. Maybe the next time they’d get it right. He held his staff aloft and gripped it tightly in both of his big calloused hands and at the precipice of smiting the ground beneath his feet, he felt a soft tug on his robe. His eyes flicked down to the forgotten Eteeyan, her huge brown eyes and innocent face filled with the beauty of clear and conscious ignorance. She saw him, through all of his maddening fury, she saw him and her eyes seemed to say; “What is the use of great power if you use it to expedite the destruction of all you love?” Then she said, with a smile as soft and gentle as a dreamless sleep, “What can we do Xanda?” The wild and twisting flames in his eyes guttered, then died and fell from his eyes in a blink, as liquid gold tears. His dark eyes stung and his fingertips threatened to burst with black electricity. But her clear presence and musical voice had cut a silver lining into the dark sky. Light began to bleed through the darkness and fell in sheets onto the street. Xanda only stared into those huge eyes full of wonder and possibility and those eyes looked to him for guidance. Him, who was ready to destroy everything to start anew, even her. He would be no different from the leaders of Orb, he saw reflected in those eyes. He sighed and steam and smoke ran from his mouth like a great white river and flooded the streets with a dense smog. He sighed again and closed his eyes. Rain began to fall, pebbling on the girl’s hood and gently washing the smog from the streets. It cooled his wrath and soothed his pain and shame of anger. A final grace-filled sigh sunk deep into his body, grounding him to Orb in all her beauty and power. He placed his staff onto the ground, so gently, and knelt. “We will do what is needed,” he said. She searched his eyes then and asked. “Will there be joy?” “There will be. And pain and loss.” “Then why should we do anything about it?” she asked, with all of the purity of Orb and beyond. A corner of his mouth slid upward as he said, “Because we love.” She let the words sink in. “Because we love.”, she repeated and the rain stopped. Giving way to calm, clear, open skies once more. The sun rose from behind a cloud, as did Xanda the Windman and he said, “Come Yiri, we have much work to do.” “Then we shall do it joyfully!” She gave him a huge smile. He smiled back, his white teeth shining as bright as the sun. Then he heard the clanking of metal feet marching down the market street toward them. He picked up his staff, his smile had fallen, as a troop of ivory soldiers came closer to surround them. “Because we love…” He said, closing his eyes. And when he opened them again he said, as if to someone who wasn’t there: or else was all around him. “Because we love.” He drug one foot in front of the other, as the weight of the heat danced on the distorted horizon. On and on the figure marched through the sweltering heat of the day. He had been walking for… He wasn’t sure. It had been two and a half days in truth. But the unrelenting sting of the sun had burnt the truth out of his mind. It had burned away the thought of her green eyes, and the last night he had spent in the company of humans. It had burned away the nightmare that was the last two nights. Burned away the glowing white eyes in the darkness of the decrepit buildings they had taken refuge in. Burned away the screams of the children and the horrible thrashing and tearing sounds that echoed out of the darkness after they were silent. All of it, burned away by one of the only real things that existed here. Heat. With all of his thoughts gone there was only to walk. One step. Then, one step. On and on until… He thought he saw a tree.
He visor'd his brow with a dry and ashy hand trying to see clearly past the dancing horizon. He could see it there, in the distance. A tree meant shade, meant relief, meant somewhere to sit...somewhere to die. He licked his lips and felt the sharp edges of peeling skin resisting against his dry tongue. He knew it was no use, but he licked them again. He took one step and then another. He took one step more, then his foot caught on less than a crack in the hard dry earth and he crashed to his knees and crumbled as his left arm failed to catch him, so he lay awkwardly with his face in the dirt. He could feel his knees ache with a pain so sharp that it could only mean he had broken skin. He winced as he tried to lift himself and an electrical rippling of pain shot from his left arm to crumble him back into the dirt. He looked at it, almost as if it were someone else’s arm. A bone had been torn through his bicep to stick up like some white flag pole through a bandaged arm. When had he done this? Suddenly, flashes of a pale humanoid hand reached out to him, grabbing his arm and wrenching it to bend the wrong way. Shocking him into a backward scramble, then he was standing and huffing with a sudden burst of energy. The image was gone just as soon as it had come and he was back, in the burnt shade-less landscape with nothing. Nothing, but heat baking his skin and the echoes of a child’s screams ringing in his ears. He blinked in his surroundings as if seeing them for the first time. Where was he going? He couldn’t remember. He felt something hot and heavy laying against his chest. At first it angered him and he reached to tear it off of his neck but the chain it hung on simply dug into the skin between the bones of his spine. He gasped with pain and almost collapsed again. He steadied himself and looked down to his neck and saw a black heart shaped locket. He grimaced and could feel where his skin had begun to meld with the metal of the chain, peeling away when he lifted it from his neck. The locket felt so heavy in his hand. When... where had he found this? It was plain as far as he could see. But seeing, was becoming more difficult. He blinked with rapid savagery, trying to force his vision back into focus. He swallowed a hard dry swallow and closed his eyes for six seconds. He wasn’t sure why six. But when he opened his eyes he thought he could see a bit better. He looked the locket over and flipped it in his hand and saw where the backside flipped upward. He pressed open the back of it and saw a small...well he wasn’t sure what he was looking at. At first he thought it might be a bright stone. But upon further inspection it swirled and danced with a strange light. A light that poured from it’s center and off of it’s edges like water, then disappeared as it fell away. Light, like something from a dream pulled at the edge of memory. The light reminded him of something. The lights had been bright that night. “The stars are out tonight, huh?” His wife Anna was walking over to him with a cold bottle of cider in hand. He could see the condensation misting the apple shaped label. “Daddy, is that it?” He was holding his daughter Aurora propped in one arm as she pointed to the bright night sky. She had two big puffs on either side of her head and her signature blue and yellow overalls and she was pointing with little fingers he felt very tempted to nibble on. He wrapped her up in his arms and proceeded to playfully nibble on those cute little fingers and listen to her scream in delight and surprise. “Come on now you two.” Anna said as she jabbed at his side with the cold bottle. “She did ask you a question.” “Ahh yes!” he said, placing her down and looking at his daughter in an overly serious manner. “What was your question again young lady?” She giggled and repeated, “Daddy, is that it?” He turned and looked into the part of the sky she was pointing to. “Yes, that’s Gemini. You can tell because it’s made of six stars and one of them called Castor, I think, is one of the brightest stars ever.” Her eyes lit up and grew wide with amazement as she stared into the starry night. “The fire is ready for smores, if you guys are ready for them.” Anna said, nodding toward the campfire. He turned to his wife as Aurora danced and sang her way over to the campfire ahead of her parents. “This was a great idea babe.” Anna said, looking at him with her green eyes. Her lightly freckled cheeks were bursting with approval and appreciation. As he reached a hand into her back pocket and squeezed her butt. She did the same for him. “Daddy?” Aurora’s voice was suddenly worried. “What’s that?” He and Anna turned to look into the starry night to find more than stars. The sudden light brightened the world into a mock daylight. But the light poured from a source of pale milky brightness that seemed to be descending from nowhere. The sight captured their whole being. Birds were chirping and cawing wildly as crickets and frogs sang a raucous chorus and Aurora was saying something over and over and over again but all of it was barely audible over the visual spectacle of what they were witnessing. Neither he nor Anna could speak as they watched the light descend onto the world changing it from day to some strange alien brightness. Then just as suddenly as it came, it vanished. Silence. “What the fu-” “Six! Six! Six!” Aurora was screaming now and staring at where the light had seemed to land. “Aurora, Aurora honey what’s-” Anna was suddenly transfixed on a spot just outside of the light of the campfire. He was peering where he thought she might be looking but everything in the shadows seemed to be darker than it had been somehow. Much darker. All he could see against the flickering darkness beyond the trees were pale glowing dots. He was blinking furiously trying to get the dots to go away when Anna grabbed his arm, hard. He looked over at her but he couldn’t see her face past her afro but could see her lips. She was saying, “Get the gun.” He looked back into the darkness confused. Had he missed something? The dots were still there... but then it clicked. Those weren’t dots. They were eyes. Strange eyes, all around them in the darkness. He looked back up the hill to the cabin lights which seemed to stretch further away as he looked. He pulled his pistol from the waist of his pants and cocked it. He was breathing hard and could hear the thud of his heart in his chest, there were no other sounds. The pale wobbling circles began to dart around, always just out of view. “Six. Six. Six” Aurora said transfixed on something neither of her parents could see. “Grab Aurora.” He whispered to Anna. She grabbed up her daughter with a smooth calmness he knew she wasn’t feeling. They turned and ran! The light of the campfire at their back no longer lit their way forward and so they knew it was gone, swallowed up by the darkness. They ran against the hill and he fired shots behind him, never quite looking to see if, or what they hit. They had finally reached the cabin and the lights were on just inside. He took the four porch stairs in a leap, Anna jumped but the last stair caught her leg. She fell awkwardly twisting as she shielded Aurora from the ground. He reached down for her and she screamed as a pale hand with impossibly long black fingers grabbed the waist of her pants. She screamed and pushed Aurora into his arms. Then she was gone. He fired the gun, feeling like a complete fool for having not shot immediately. He couldn’t see anything and all he heard was his wife’s screaming, getting more and more distant. Another pale hand reached from the darkness and grabbed at Aurora. He grabbed his daughter and snatched the door open but couldn’t get inside. Something was holding him back. He saw that long black finger clawed through the loops of his daughter’s overall straps and his heart dropped into his feet. He pulled with all his might against that hand as she screamed “Six! Six! Six!” The black fingers had closed around her small body and began pulling with inhuman strength. He Propped his feet into the door frame and pulled with his entire body. He was gaining. “Reach for me baby! Reach!” Her tiny hand was reaching for him and grasping at his arm. He pulled harder and harder. Until a white hand grabbed his left arm from the darkness. He fell onto his back and passed out after his head snapped back to smash into the stone floor of the entryway. He dreamt then, of a strange face, with eyes like floating orbs of light and a mouth not entirely in use was telling him something. The mouth moved only in the center and whispers came from it. He couldn’t understand it and the face looked impassive, but the mouth’s movement’s gave a sense of urgency. “What!? What are you saying!” He yelled at the face as it shrank away into darkness and was replaced by the orb in the locket. The light was shining and swirling in it’s locket had brought all of this back to him. He didn’t know what the thing in the locket was for or even what it was. But he knew it was important. He thought of Aurora’s small fingers and of Anna’s green eyes. He closed the locket and squeezed it. He couldn't cry, the heat had taken his tears already. He looked up and saw, on the waving horizon more clearly than he had. There was a tree there. He clenched the locket in his fist and took a step. His legs were numb. He said to himself, in a voice deep and raspy of none-use “Keep your black ass moving. Just take one step more...” END He opened his eyes, blinking the world into view. He turned this way and that so that he could take it all in. He stretched his wings as he chirped to his neighbors. What few stirred told of a golden dawn and an open sky, perfect for the hunt. He fastened his trappings and prepped his feathers, hopped to the edge of his perch and looked to the silvery slice of light peeking over the horizon. A new mist hovered above the ground and a new wind whispered through the leaves. With his eyes closed, he took a deep breath and fell from his high branch. As he fell through the air, twisting and spinning, the ground burst through the morning mist and shot up to meet him. He spread his wings and let the air pull him up high until he leveled out. He flapped his wings and pushed higher into the treetops, bobbing and weaving through twigs and branches and shot through leaves like a bullet. He burst through the canopy and fluttered above the sea of green that stretched on and on into the breaking dawn. He stared back at his home as a strange thought overtook him. His mind couldn't entertain such thoughts though, for he was the early bird afterall. He glided through wisps of cloud and watched as the sea of green transformed below him into the brown lands. A wide open land sparsely littered with thin gray trees that scraped at the sky with thin twisted fingers and thorny bushes that grew as wide as a tree top. The muddy ground and deep puddles were fertile ground for the hunt.
He soared about the sky and found a good landing position below. He was excited to see that he was the only bird in the sky or on the grounds. The first. The earliest. His feathers rose a little in pride and he started to slow to begin his descent. He spiraled down into a particularly large thorn bush and laid out his tools on a dry patch of fissured earth at the base of the bush. As he pieced his spear together, something in the corner of his eye grabbed his attention. A dry, mummified mouse lay against the twisted roots of the bush, reaching out to the empty air. He wondered what the mouse was pointing at. He followed its reaching finger with his eyes and saw a small nest tucked in the lower branches of the bush. His curiosity overtook him and he fluttered up into the nest. It was empty except for a single dull black feather. He flipped it and saw its fluorescent underside, so colorful that it initially scared him. There was an expectation that it might blind him or be a trap of some kind. However, another moment passed and nothing happened. He blinked, enraptured with its beauty he decided it would come with him. Whether it was luck was uncertain to him. He swept it into his beak and tied it onto his back with a bit of leaf hemp he had on his belt. The sun hung low in the sky as he re-emerged into the open, a crow was poking about in the mud. There wasn’t any doubt for his catch; therefore, he quickly snatched up his spear to flutter to the open mud. His angry twittering was ignored by the black bird, making him twitter more. The crow cawed with dismissal of the tweet and continued poking about, his yellow eyes never leaving sight of the muddy ground. Offended, he flew a few flutters away to another spot. Little did the crow know, he was prodding the wrong spot. He began his toil shooting harsh and sharp glances at the black bird, but his gestures went unnoticed. As he pushed his stick deep into the mud and swiveled it around, he noticed a shadow emerge from behind. Instantly, he jumped, dropping his spear. It was the crow, standing and staring with his beak ajar. To what is the black bird staring at, he asked himself. The crow answered by nodding to the feather. He pulled it around to his front and looked at it clearly, the colorful side was exposed, appearing quite beautiful in the light. The crow cawed, receiving a tweet as a reply. The crow pulled up a satchel from under his wings and showed his shiny wares. Curious, he pushed his neck out in order to better see what all was in the sack. There were pretty stones, colorful buttons, bright strings, glistening beetles, and in truth, a wad of useless junk. The black bird pushed through most of it, shuffling the tangled mass about in the big satchel. His feathers were ruffled as he pulled out a small iridescent orb that glistened and winked in the pale morning light. As he looked into it, he felt as if he was pulled into a deep gust of wind. There was twirling and swirling in a flood of color and mute sound. He blinked. The world came back to him. The crow looked sure of the trade for he cawed its pleasure. He thought it over for longer than expected, but decided a bauble like that was more dangerous than useful; therefore, he declined with a tweet. With a shuffle and flurry of feathers, he hopped back to the spot where his spear laid pressed in the mud. The crow squawked its incredulity, but didn't seem disappointed. He left it there to stare into the orb squawking and cooing softly to itself. Some time passed and the mud began to dry and crack under the heat of the rising sun. It was imperative that he find it soon or else he would go home empty taloned. He poked around under the thin shade of a gray withered tree, when all of a sudden, something pricked at his senses, causing him to look up There, against the greying sky, perched on the only branch of the old tree, sat a massive holy bird. He bowed deeply to the bald necked holy one. A long and deep screech came from its curved beak. He didn't understand what it meant; therefore, he tweeted a question. A raspy arrrgh gurgled from its naked throat as it shifted its weight on the branch and stretched its massive wingspan to eclipse the sun. It was then, he understood. Nonetheless, he could not leave no matter the danger, for he was the early bird afterall. The holy bird's cold eyes shot to the feather on his back and another long screech broke the silence. It bowed to him before it smoothed its white collar against its black feathered body and jumped from the limb, sweeping over him in a gust. His eyes followed the holy bird clear over the empty blue sky as a boom of thunder sounded across the distant sky and moisture filled the air. He watched the bird disappear into the horizon and his eyes fell back to the ground where he saw a small lump in the mud. He hopped over. It was a satchel. The crow's satchel, he realized. He swiveled his head all around and saw a bush here and a tree there but no sign of the black bird. He picked up the satchel and shook it. Beetles, string, and other junk fell and plopped in the mud. He wondered about the orb as he slung the empty satchel under his wing and hopped away from the pile of crow junk. Suddenly, a drop of rain fell to the ground, gradually quickening its pace, and sending him toiling in the downpour. The heads of small soft worms wriggling about in the mud as it got thicker and harder for him to walk in. They would be easy prey and soon his thin toes would be packed with muck, but he pressed on for there were bigger worms to catch. He poked down this hole and swirled around that puddle until his spear caught on something, it was a ball of worms. Wrapped all about each other, he picked up the mass and wiped the worms clean of grime before swallowing them into that memorizing glint and flicker of the orb. He could not pull himself away. Somewhere he heard the splat of something hitting soft, gritty mud, yet the flashing colors kept him warm and all of his birdly troubles seemed to wash away like dirt in a stream. Until. A rumble snapped him out of it. The rain became harsh hard and the doughy mud was turning to soup beneath his feet. He snapped his head around, but there was no sign. He listened, but all he heard was the heavy rains.. He put the orb in his satchel. A deep earth churning groan shook through his hollow bones and a cacophony of muffled roots tearing, and snapping sent jolts through his feathers. The sound became louder as a dark mound slowly erupted from the mud in front of him. His body became still for he dared not move. Two stalks flipped up on top of the mound. One then the other. They were eyes. Deep black pools of savage hunger were staring right at him. His heart was pounding, the mound was three of him wide, and just as high. Large enough to eat him whole. He thought about flying away but the mud and rain would slow him and the commotion might get him eaten, so he dare not move. The stalk eyes were searching now, no doubt trying to discern him from the muddy background. Worms have terrible vision but their sense of vibration is beyond belief. Fear broke his eyeline from the stalks down to his talons, they had been swallowed by the mud but there he saw his spear. He flicked his eyes back up to the worm. The stalks were moving left and right scanning the area. The muddy mound began to descend, sifting back and forth through the mud and the stalks soon sunk out of sight. There was thunder in the distance. The early bird took three deep breaths and snatched up the spear. Already, he could hear the deep horrible rumble below growing. He drove the spear down into the mud and with all of his might pushed against it until one foot was wretched free with a sucking "thwoop". The rumble became louder as he began to pull until with a second "thwoop" which freed him. He flapped hard, but the rain was too heavy and his feet were covered in thick mud. With all his might, he tried to get away from the swell of wet earth and the growing growl that was getting closer. In his haste, he slipped and fell into a pool of dark, muddy water with a flat plate. As kicked and reached wildly, he began to sink, but there was no ground to gain in the muck. His world turned to black cold grit when suddenly, his leg was crushed by some great force. Short of breath and panicked he inhaled, the dark slurry filled his lungs. He was snatched up through the mud and into the air by something hard that knocked his lungs clear. He gawked for air and scrabbled, clinging to whatever he could. His eyes were closed, but he could feel the rain and air smash against his face. As he ascended, a familiar drop tugged at his gut. He opened his eyes to see the muddy ground rushing up to meet him. He let go and pushed away from the mass, expanding his muddy wings to slow his fall. The worm's massive body plummeted past him. It's small rear legs scrambled for purchase all while it's segments writhed. The worm crashed with a sickening crunch. He splatted flat into muddy ground and as he tried to rise his leg was engulfed in an electric pain. He fell to one knee and felt something pressing against his wing. His spear was still on him, tangled around the crow's satchel strap. He untangled the spear, pulled it up, and saw that the worm was turned around, staring at him fully exposed. Row after row of razor teeth sharp as spear heads littered the gaping maw of the worm. One huge claw like forearm was hunched close to the body and ended like a shovel, but the other claw dangled sickeningly from sinew. A series of cracks emanated from a large indentation on the forehead between the eye stalks that were angled down upon him and he knew they saw him clearly now. He rose to circle the worm, his spear out stretched. His leg was on fire, but he circled the worm as it rumbled and growled. At the time, his muddy feathers were unruffled and his hollow bones were unshaken. It slammed and drug its functional claw around the muck, flinging black speckles as it raged. He saw it was hurt and couldn't dig and it never made a move forward, but stood its ground. He tested it, stabbing at the worm's hard carapace and circling his foe all the while. It snapped at him and smashed its claw into the mud in rage as it missed. He jabbed the spear down a crack in the broken claw. In and out as the worm ducked and dodged the bird’s attacks.! He was behind the worm as it writhed in pain and the long pink tail whipped and caught him full in the chest. Knocking him off his feet and a good distance away. He sloshed around in the mud trying to get his bearings. He wiped the mud from his eyes and saw the worm charging him, mouth wide. The rain had stopped and there was a grey mist across the sky. He was tired, unsure if he could muster any more strength when he saw, caught among the sharp white teeth lay black feathers. The feathers gave him an idea and while he was too weak to do much more fighting. He reached into the crow's satchel, grabbed it and pushed the orb into the air. He dared not look into it but held it aloft and saw those black stalks gloss and lose focus. It stopped its furious charge, it slid forward just in front of him then was rooted. The scent of earth and death seeped from the gaping maw. He lowered the stone to the mud and watched the black stalks, they remained locked on it. He limped feebly over to his spear and picked it up as he climbed up the worm's back and stood between its eyes, driving the end of his spear down through the cracked indentation on the worm's head, and it broke like a fresh egg. A deep purple substance began to pool up from inside. The stalks dropped slowly, resisting here and there, but fell forward all the same as if to sleep. He slid down the worm's front and settled himself against the hard carapace. His breath rattled in his chest and his leg throbbed dully. He looked down at his chest at the feather he found. A ray of sun burst through the grey sky above and shined on his charm of luck. It looked more dull to his eyes now but just as beautiful. He tweeted his gratitude, untied it and let a sudden gust of wind carry it away. He pushed himself up with his spear and began to gather the three sharpest teeth from the worm. He hobbled around the back end of the worm and sliced off the soft, pink tail and packed it all up in the satchel. He fluttered raggedly away until he caught the wind. He looked toward the horizon, toward home. Then he had a strange thought: "Though you may wake today, sleep could find you in a different way and though you may hold a charm, it does not guarantee you from harm. However, one thing is for certain, in this world of twists and turns, the early bird always catches the worm." . As he flew into the mid-morning horizon, he tweeted with satisfaction. She stepped through the creaking door and came into a small classroom. The room was off center, the board was there at the front but all the desks were turned and somehow the sourceless light was shining all pointing toward a figure sitting facing the corner of the room. A dunce cap sat tall on the figure’s head and dull hum of mumbling bounced out of the corner he was facing. She stood watching the figure as her heart pounded in her chest and every moaning floorboard beneath her sounded as loud as the silence in her head.
The dull thudding in her breast was rising as she took another step closer, or maybe the room was shrinking and she was being pulled closer, she couldn’t tell. Suddenly she was right against the figure’s back and reaching out to him with a shaking hand as the muttering grew louder and more consistent. The figure jerked suddenly making her pull back in fear but her curiosity drove her hand automatically back. Her hand touched his shoulder and he turned, snatching around with a speed so sudden and terrible that she fell to the floor. The sourceless light in the room drowned the figure so that his shadow rose tall and bent in the light that swallowed all of his features except his outline. Now he was reaching for her muttering nonsense so fast it all bled together in a strange tone and intonation that it could have been some ungodly song. He got closer and closer as he grabbed her shoulders pulling with a firm strength. He leaned in and suddenly his face melted into all the features of a normal person. She could see he had bedraggled hair beneath the cap and a look as if he needed some sleep but he was a normal person. She stared into his eyes, broken and dismayed but filled with a desperate focus. Then she looked at his mouth. “Nopr-ever-nice-noper-forensic-nopreference-no preference. No Preference.” He held the last “sss” out for what seemed a long time. He let her go gently and returned to his seat continuing to mutter. It was then she realized she was holding her breath and began to breathe again before standing and reading the scratching on the chalkboard. “No PREFERENCE”. |
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