Saturday, May 19, 2012

The Treatment- Chapter 5

The punitive drug lasted only five minutes, but Havaj felt like he was waking up from a century-long slumber. He must have fallen unconscious as soon as it had worn off. As he stretched his limbs, he felt a residual ache that would make getting up very unpleasant. Opening one eye slightly, he scanned his surroundings. They looked unfamiliar; he was probably still at the Station. When he managed to get both eyes open, he found himself to be in a small infirmary, dimly lit and containing ten beds. The bed next to his was occupied by a middle-aged man, asleep in a crumpled position with a painful expression on his face. On the bed across from his, Symon was sitting with his head in his hands. Taking a deep breath, Havaj forced himself into an upright position.

"Hey... Symon," he said. Symon did not respond. "Symon, I'm sorry I yelled at you." For a few seconds, Symon did not move. Then, he lowered his hands and met Havaj's eyes with his own gaze. He looked exhausted, weakened.

"No, dude. I'm the one who should be sorry," he said softly.

"What?"

"I didn't take you seriously. I didn't understand why you hate Eumenfield so much." He rubbed his forehead, exhaling through his teeth. "Now I understand."

Havaj smiled weakly. "So, you're on my side now." He said.

Symon shook his head slowly. "No. I just don't... I mean, they..." He stood upright, raising his voice to a normal volume. "There's no point in trying to be a rebel, Havaj. We're trapped. Government controls the healthcare system; the healthcare system controls us. I mean, how can we even fight back? Paint over some more billboards? Like hell if that's gonna make a difference." He sat back down. "If I had known how much that punishment would hurt, I'd never have pulled all those stupid stunts just to act cool. Maybe Mikane is right. We just stay outta trouble and try to live a normal life, and things will get better."

Havaj closed his eyes tightly. He wanted to shout at the top of his lungs; he wanted to rage at the world. Instead, he just continued to speak in a quiet voice. "Yeah, we could just give in and follow their rules, and things might seem okay. But I don't want to live that way. We should be able to choose what goes into our body. I just wish there was something we could do to make a change."

Symon shrugged. "Hey, we'll be old enough to vote by the next election."

"I hope you're kidding. I've never heard of a candidate who wants to reform the healthcare system. They're all pretty much the same."

"Well, I'm out of ideas then. It's the straight and narrow for me from now on. But hey, if you come up with some brilliant plan to bring down the government, count me in I guess."

Symon was one of the most unruly and mischievous kids Havaj had ever met. This sudden change in Symon's paradigm was downright shocking. Havaj now understood why his older brother was so intent on staying out of trouble; he had likely had the same experience as them.
 The middle-aged man in the adjacent bed began to stir and make noises. "Come on," Havaj said, shuffling over to the door. "Let's get out of this terrible place." Symon did not hesitate to follow.

The two meandered their way through the station, following the signs back to the lobby. Havaj glanced at a clock on the wall; it was 7:43 am. Upon finding the lobby, Havaj was not surprised to see Mikane waiting there, reading a newspaper. Symon always used to sneak up behind Mikane when he was reading something and surprise him. This time, he didn't. As they approached him, he greeted them with his usual grin. "So, how was your beauty sleep?" He asked.

"Ugly," Havaj replied.

"Hey, you two. No need to look so glum. It's over now, and you can move on with your lives. Hopefully you've learned something from the experience?" Havaj simply nodded. He wanted to say 'Yes, I learned that I hate Eumenfield more than ever now' but he didn' t think that would sit very well with Mikane.

"Any good stories in there?" Symon asked, poking Mikane's paper.

"Here's one," Mikane said. "'Obsidian University researchers find cure for yet another cancer'. Amazing what goes on in that place."

Havaj shook his head as he started towards the exit. "See you later guys," he said. "I'm going for a walk."

Wednesday, May 16, 2012

The Treatment- Chapter 4

The Station was a simple two story building, but in noticeably better upkeep than the surrounding slum architecture. The walls were a gleaming white, a stark contrast with the dirty gray street below; it was as if a perfect building had fallen from the heavens and landed by chance in the Maze District. Next to the Station's entrance stood a sign that read "Eumenfield Medical Community Station" in bold lettering.

As Havaj approached the door, he hesitated, turning back to his three companions. He glanced back at the Station, pursing his lips in thought. He was about to say something, when suddenly he was afflicted with a dull, throbbing headache. He shivered and opened the door.

Inside, the station was already starting to get busy. It was teeming with Mikane's kin, that strange species that sets its alarm to 6:00 on a Sunday. The small flock of receptionists behind the front desk was tapping away at the keyboards, pausing on occasion to affect a smile at an incoming patient. Havaj's path was blocked by a short, worried-looking man struggling to keep pace with the long strides of a doctor. After they passed, Havaj's group made a beeline past the front desk to a hallway at the right. Each door lining the hallway was labeled with a group of letters; Havaj and Mikane went to the one labeled "G, H, I". Mikane waved to Jade and Symon as they went to two other rooms. "See you in a few," he said.

The lone attendant inside the room sat up straight as the brothers entered. "Names please," He said abruptly.

"Hesconnu, Mikane."

"Hesconnu, Havaj."

The attendant leaned forward, inspecting the names inked onto the ports above their collarbones. He gave a confirming nod. Opening a formidable black drawer, the attendant searched and pulled out two long white capsules. He handed one to each of the young men, who inspected the labels carefully. With one swift motion, Mikane pulled the cap off his capsule to reveal a short needle which he stuck into his port. Havaj did the same, but more slowly. For a few moments, they sat in silence, waiting. Soon, the effects of the drug cocktail began to manifest. Havaj felt it coursing though him like a river of pure life essence. This was his enemy, his reason for defacing the billboard, but he still could not resist the feeling of wholeness and vitality. His headache vanished.

They left the room, meeting back up with Jade and Symon. The mood-improving effects of the drugs were evident in both of them. "So, where are you guys headed now?" Jade asked.

"Back home, to finish sleeping," Havaj said.

"Oh come on, Havaj," Symon said, elbowing him. "Did you stick the needle in the wrong spot or something? I don't feel tired at all."

"You could barely stay awake on the way here, Symon. You'll feel like a zombie when the stuff wears off."

"That won't convince him," Jade said. "You know how much Symon loves zombies." Symon tilted his head sideways and staggered towards Havaj with his arms outstretched, growling. "No, you idiot," Jade said, laughing. "Zombies don't growl. They moan." Symon tried out a moan; Mikane said it sounded like a dying cow.

Havaj was the only one who wasn't laughing. "Hey buddy, what's the deal with you?" Symon asked him. "You look all serious."

Havaj sighed. "I've just been thinking," he said. "Every time I get my shot in the morning, I regret it. It just makes me feel... vulnerable. Like I have no control over my own body. Why can't they just let us stop when we want?"

Mikane folded his arms over his chest. "This again, Havaj?" He said. "I don't see why you're so adamantly against these shots. Our country has the best healthcare system in the world. I mean, just look at what they've done for me. Because of their miracle drugs, my diabetes doesn't even affect me."

"Then there's the immunity boost, too. We pretty much never get sick," Jade added.

"Right," Mikane said. "Why would you want to give that up?"

"Yeah," scoffed Symon. "I wish they could put something into your shot to make you stop whining."

Havaj gaped at Symon indignantly. "You... I thought you were on my side in this issue!" He said, his voice rising. "You helped me vandalize the billboard. Did you even believe in what you were writing?"

Symon took a step back from the harshness of his friend's voice. "Whoa, you really thought I was some kind of legit rebel?" He said. "That's just one of the things we do for fun. You know, 'Fight the power', that kind of stuff? Dude, I've known you since grade school and I've never seen you get this pissed about anything."

"Dammit, you just take everything for granted, don't you? 'I can do whatever I want.'", he said in a mockery of Symon's voice. "'It's okay to be addicted to a powerful drug.' 'A generous guy is going to pick me up off the street and give me a place to live.' 'The government is never going to use-"

Havaj stopped abruptly. He was about to continue, when suddenly his head began to spin. The room seemed to grow, twisting around him like a carnival mirror trick. He raised a hand to his forehead, reaching out to the wall with the other hand in an attempt to steady his balance. To his surprise, Symon was doing the same thing. The dizziness intensified, and was soon joined by a wave of pain surging throughout his body. His legs gave out. He thought he would go unconscious, but instead remained on the brink; he was just conscious enough to feel the burning agony.

Jade stared aghast at the two boys trembling on the ground. Mikane ran his fingers through his hair, staring solemnly into empty space. "I remember when I got my first warning," he said.

Monday, May 14, 2012

The Treatment- Chapter 3

The next morning began with a familiar, sickening chime. Mikane's alarm was set to 6:00 am, as usual. Havaj jolted upright as if pricked by a needle. "Really, Mikane? 6:00 on a Sunday?" He grumbled. Mikane had already showered and was halfway dressed; apparently his internal clock had beaten the alarm.

"Hey, little H," he said. "You know what they say: early to bed and early to rise makes you a cool guy... or something like that."

"It's Sunday. You don't work Sunday mornings anymore."

Mikane shrugged. "Well, getting up early is a hard habit to break."

"But look, you didn't even need to set your alarm. Why did you make us get up too?"

"Hey, when you're the one paying the rent, you can set your own alarm." He flashed a grin at Havaj, who smirked and shook his head. "Besides, don't you like beating the morning rush?"

"Yeah, that's right," Havaj said. He began to think about telling Mikane what happened the night before. He doubted Mikane would be angry with him- Mikane getting angry would be like a building sprouting wings and flying- but Havaj was still apprehensive about confessing his first brush with the law.

As if reading his mind, Mikane said, "So, why did you get home so late anyways? Been causing some trouble?" Havaj sighed and told his brother what had happened. He relayed each detail of last night's adventure, from the vandalized Eumenfield billboard to the OCLER and signet ring. Mikane walked over to Havaj, resting his meaty hand on Havaj's shoulder. "You know, I used to be a rebel kid like you once." He chuckled, his eyes wandering to some bittersweet memory. "I got my first warning when I was seventeen, too. You remember that?"

"Not really," Havaj muttered. He was loath to recall any memory from when his mother was still around.

"Well, it's just a phase we all go through." Mikane walked over to the mirror, taming his unruly dark hair with a comb. "Eventually you'll realize that 'The Man' isn't such a bad guy after all."

Havaj rolled his eyes. "You don't even follow the news," he said. "Haven't you heard about all the horrible things they do?"

"You mean the crazy rumors those good-for-nothing little punks spread around the district? No. You're better than that, Havaj. You and Symon stop listening to that nonsense. Once you get a job, we can save up enough money between the three of us to get out of this dump. Then you'll change your point of view, I promise." Havaj glanced over at Symon, who was still fast asleep; he had managed to escape the wrath of Mikane's alarm."Well, let's get ready to head to the Station," Mikane said. "Beat the morning rush."

~~

The "Station" was only five minutes walking distance from their apartment building. Symon yawned loudly as they left the building and started down the street. The sun, sitting at the top of the buildings, cast long shadows on the ground. As they walked, Havaj scanned the streets, taking in every detail. It was a habit of his; even sleep-deprived as he was, he didn't want to let anything escape his sight. Two young girls dashed across the street, singing a schoolyard chant between bouts of laughter. Mikane wasn't the only early bird in the district, it seemed. A few yards down the road, a compact street sweeper was prodding at a bundle of unrecognizable trash, its driver looking quite bored. They turned a corner. A haggard and wild-eyed man was sitting on the ground, hugging a lamppost as he shivered violently. "Weaning myself off," he stammered to nobody in particular. "Gone a whole day without. Tryin' for two days. Weaning myself off."

Havaj was so absorbed in his people-watching that he did not notice the young woman blocking their path. Startled, he quickly took a step backwards. "Wow, Havaj," she said, laughing. "You're so zoned out you might as well be sleepwalking."

"Hi, Jade," Symon said, stifling a yawn.

"You too, Symon? What, were you two partying it up last night and forgot to invite me?"

"Oh, they had a party all right!" Mikane said with a sigh. "A party with a signet ring."

Jade's thin eyebrows raised. "They got caught in the act? I didn't think that would ever happen. What kind of stunt were they trying to pull this time?"

Havaj answered, "Enlightening the public-"

"Defacing a billboard," Mikane interrupted.

Jade clicked her tongue, her blonde ponytail bouncing as she shook her head. "You should have invited me anyways," she said, flashing them a grin.

As the four childhood friends walked to the Station together, Symon related his own grandiose version of their adventure to Jade, who chuckled in amusement. Havaj suddenly noticed that his older brother looked pensive. He had no idea what Mikane could be thinking about, but something was certainly amiss.

He had been let off with a warning.

Monday, April 30, 2012

The Treatment- Chapter 2

Havaj had never been caught before in his life. After years of delinquency and countless close calls, he had started to think that he was invincible. One staring contest with a standard-issue Obsidian City Law Enforcement Rifle was all it took to bring that delusion crashing down.

Time slowed to a crawl in Havaj's mind, and the air became syrup. He thought about the possible courses of action. If he stepped down peacefully, he would obviously be punished. What would his punishment be like? The ghetto kids' colorful stories about the horrendous conditions in Obsidian's prison flickered across his mind. The only other option was escape. Escape? Havaj thought. No, that would be suicide! He became dimly aware of Symon, who, standing next to him, was likely pondering the same things.

"Step down onto the street!" The officer barked. Suddenly, Havaj noticed something about Symon. He looked tense; his muscles were rigid. Like a cornered rabbit about to run. Instinctively, Havaj grabbed Symon's arm to stop him from moving. The look Symon gave him was defiant, accusing. "Come on. Let's go down," Havaj said, dragging his friend along.

~~

Slinging the OCLER back over his shoulder, the officer browsed the two boys' backpacks. Finding nothing but a few cans of spray paint, he tossed the packs back to them. "Your names, please?" He asked, directing his gaze at Havaj first. Hesitantly, Havaj stepped forward. The officer roughly grabbed Havaj's collar and pulled down his shirt to reveal a port sticking out of the base of his neck. Tattooed on the bottom edge of the port in black ink was his name, Havaj Hesconnu. After jotting down the name on an electronic tablet, he did the same to Symon. He tapped a few more times on his tablet, then consulted the screen. "This appears to be your first infarction on record, for both of you," he said. "I hope you realize that vandalism is a serious issue in Obsidian City." He cleared his throat, then fixed a stern gaze at them. "Because you two are minors, I'm letting you off with a warning. If you ever do this again, the consequences will be more severe. You'll be facing fines up to..."

The officer's voice seemed distant. Havaj's gaze drifted to the man's left hand, where a white signet ring adorned his index finger. This ring was the symbol of Obsidian authority, worn by all members of government and law enforcement. The streetlight cast an eerie blue hue on the ring. As the officer finished speaking, Havaj realized that he hadn't really been paying attention. All he could think of was that one word: Warning. The rest of the night was like an unsettling somnambulation. On the way back to the Maze District, Havaj said very little as he tried to make sense of what happened. Only a warning? What is a warning?

They arrived at a three-story apartment building, inconspicuous as any in the district. Stepping through the door, Havaj glanced at the clock on the nearest wall. 12:30 am. Warning. A sudden weariness struck him. As he and Symon walked past the welcome room he glanced at the portrait hanging on the wall opposite the clock. The man depicted was perfectly coiffed and dressed, his square jaw framing a stridently confident smile. This was President Darius Mastellan, and his face seemed to say, "Trust me. Everything is going to be all right." I was let off with a warning.

Havaj and Symon entered the shabby apartment they shared. The room contained three mattresses, with the third already occupied by Mikane, Havaj's older brother. The two boys mumbled something along the lines of "good night", and sleep came quickly.

Saturday, April 28, 2012

For Bill Biggart



A passing taxi cab driver called out
Words that would make Bill Biggart
Run to his apartment
But not to hide from the horrific event
 Happening in the city he called home
He seized three cameras and made a decision
To suck in the smoke that had replaced the American air
Just to get that last picture

Surrounded by towering buildings
Bill could see the beams being destroyed
On the two biggest buildings up a head.
Snap
Click
Went the camera
People reemerging from flames
Rendered confused
Covered in ash
With their faces forming expressions
Only a photograph can describe
Snap
Click
Went the camera
An ambulance gallantly storming out of the darkness
Out of the smoky areas of light
Towards a man standing lit up in the moment
Hoping the seconds he spent in that rubble
Would not be the last of his life
Snap
Click
Went the camera
Men carried an ailing individual
Who laid with eyes loosely closed
His face telling the story better than any poet can
A man near the front of the group points forward
He does not wander for he knows the way
They moved attempting not to breath the air
Moved with purposeful strides
With each step their clothes collected a little more dust

The man behind the camera
He managed to move forward
Towards the buildings as they burned
As they fell to the ground
As America stood frozen
Until he was underneath
Looking up at ensured death
His hands brought his instrument up
He was right there
Watching a daring and dauntless fireman sprint forward
Towards a disheveled yet bright and golden mess
Snap
Click
Went the camera
His last picture

Ashes to Ashes
The buildings fell down
Covering the land with sorrow
Unforgettable and lasting sorrow
Bill was buried in the debris
And his cameras
Were turned a murky color of brown
However
They did not go undiscovered 
One had photographs on it
Photographs pleading to be seen
To be remembered
Horrendous
Heartbreaking
Heroic pictures
That would go on to be preserved in our memories
Most of  us couldn’t know what it felt like to be there
But we could at least understand
That there were others that did
Because one man
Took one last picture

Friday, March 23, 2012

G.



                
She had always been the most uplifting one of the group. Earthy tones had always covered the optimistic flower-child and she hardly complained about trivial things. A smile tended to stretch across her face, her body was unstill as she yearned for something other than sitting on a couch. Always laughing, always making others laugh, never bringing in negative air. Probably the happiest and healthiest of us.
            But here she was, walking up my stairs in tears, her face red as she wiped the moisture to her hands. I reached out and she quickly accepted the embrace.
            “Everything sucks,” she cried. We moved into the spare room and sat. She continued as I got a good look at her. Normal clothes, her hair pulled back, but something unusual stuck out amongst her usual bracelets. A white cloth covering her wrist. I was shocked. I mean, I’ve had the attention seeking “friends” that would show up with their scratches and stories, pretending to hide what they, apparently, didn’t want people to see. But this was different. She was one to yell at someone for doing that. She would think it was stupid. But here she was, with a medical grade bandage around her wrist. I didn’t bother to ask, because she was about to tell me everything. And she did.
            I already knew about her smoking weed, and I already knew that she had sex before, but that was it. Her parents were divorcing, she had her military boyfriend, went to high school and had a job. None of this is special or surprising. But what came out of her next was news, which perhaps was my fault for just being home all the time. Drugs, sex with friends of friends, and being committed to the local institution for trying to kill herself. These weren’t happening all the time, but they happened about once or twice.
            “You know,” she said after the quick list of what she had done. “He told everyone in his family that I was a crack addict. His own girlfriend. He lied to them all for no reason.” Anger was starting to overcome the tears of pain and sadness. “His family was like mine. His sister is one of my best friends and his mom was way more of a mom to than my own. I don’t know what to do. They all hate me now.”
           

S.


My phone rang and her name flashed across the screen. I answered.
            “Hey,” I simply said. “What’s up?” There was no way she had called to casually chat. Her usual quiet voice started to speak the same familiar story I had heard before.  He was out, and he had been for a while now. The baby was asleep after crying for an hour straight. We both knew that he was going to come back home, most likely smelling like alcohol and maybe bringing people into their house. But for now she was alone, and I knew what was coming. And it did.
"Can you come over?" She was a city away and I honestly couldn't. I felt terrible. I told her I couldn't, and she gave the sad "Okay," but it continued. I stayed on the phone with her and listened, like I usually did, supporting her along the way.
18 years old, 19 in the summer, with an infant child. For now, she was living in an apartment she rented with her fiancé. They had just moved out her mother’s house. The rent was an issue for them, and they were trying to make it work. They had recently moved in, even though it was snowing out. But here she was, alone again, even though they just started something new.
“I’m outside,” she started. “I have been for a while. There’s snow covering me.”
“What about the baby?” I quickly asked, concern hitting me right away.
“She’s asleep.”
“What if she wakes up?”
“Oh, she won’t. She sleeps through the night. We’re pretty lucky.”
I wasn’t really at ease, but then my next issue came out.
“Why are you outside? You’re going to get sick. It’s freezing.”
“Well…” she started. “I was hoped he’d get back soon and see me like this and realize how long he’s been gone. He said two hours, and it’s been five. I just want him to feel bad for something.”
I could understand that reasoning, but there was a baby inside and she is the mother. I knew that she really did love her baby, and was trying to get the father’s attention by doing this, but it still wasn’t the best move.
“Babe,” I said. “You need to get in there and warm up. Check on your daughter. I don’t want you getting sick because of him. If you need some sense knocked into him, I’ll just get him with a baseball bat for you.”
She let out a small laugh.
“I wish that would work,” she said. I could hear the tinge of sadness in her small voice.
“Well, what else is going on?” I asked “How are you two settling in?”
“Oh it’s fine…”she simply said, but I knew her little voice was about to go on a rant. “But he keeps bringing his friends over, like, after they go out drinking and stuff. And he doesn’t even care. And there’s this girl, and she just… She gives me this bad vibe. I don’t know what she wants. But it’s annoying. And when they’re over, he just doesn’t care about our family.” Her quiet little voice was getting louder and angrier.
“You know, he didn’t help unpack. I did a lot of it. Well, his friend helped, but that’s it. I’ve been in the hospital and I was doing all of it. But he gets all mad at me for everything. He even threw me the other day. Just shoved me across the room.”
“That’s it,” I interjected. “I am beating him with a baseball bat.


Thursday, March 22, 2012

R.


                       I heard a catch in his voice and I could already tell what was happening. The boy, whom I had thought for the longest time had no soul, was crying. He was crying over the phone. This well put together man was breaking down. It took a bit for reality to come back, but once it finally did, I still didn’t know how to react. I mean, I should have. I knew him better than anyone. But he had never cried before. I didn’t know if he ever had. ­But I tried to pick my next words carefully, so he wouldn’t know that I could hear his tears. He wouldn’t like that.
            “What are you going to do?” It was all I could think of.
            “I don’t know. All I know is that everything is completely overwhelming. I thought I could handle it, but it just feels like too much. My grades are slipping, I can’t keep track of anything… Hell… I don’t even want to do this for the rest of my life!”He paused, and thought.
            “I don’t want the money this career has to offer. Not the house, or the car or anything. The money isn’t even f***ing close to happiness. Hell, I’m not even sure I can tell what happiness is. And it’s all because my emotions have just gotten all out of whack. They keep me up all night, berating my mind. And it’s not just in my head. My body is acting out, too. It starts to tweak at times, I’m restless, my legs bounce; I can’t even sleep anymore without taking cold medicine.”
 He stopped again. I could hear the door open to his room, and then his roommate’s voice. They exchanged a few words, and I heard him say he was going out for a cigarette. He was quiet until he got outside and them he lit his cigarette. I heard him take a drag.
“I’ve been crying,” he blurt out, although still quiet. “Four times this week alone.”
“Really?” I didn’t know it had happened more than just this time.
“Yeah. I’ve even contemplated suicide.” He took another drag. “I've thought about death and how great it would be; no more papers, haircuts, bodily sensations, or anything else to harass my mind. Nothing else to ever worry about again. I just haven’t had a day where I’ve had the means or the balls to do it.”
There was another long pause. I didn’t know what to say or how to react. He had always seemed so put together. But here he was, falling apart.
“This world is so complex that I barely feel like I can get around it at all. Everything confuses me. I don't like the way anything works and I just can't understand it. Throwing school on top of it all is ruining me. I want to feel like I have control of my life. And right now all I feel is the failure to live up to my responsibilities and expectations crashing down on top of me.”
Another drag.
“I just want something simple, now. A nine to five job. I can’t handle anything else at this point.”

Monday, March 19, 2012

Lake on Central Park

 The King surveys his victory upon a great vantage. His swords crossed in salute to the lake-ocean, which lies below his great keep. The rock and stone rise swiftly to meet his titanic tower. Upon the palisades a cool wind roils banners which fan his enemies cold with fear until they quake and fall prostrate, backs bent forward in deference to his godly might. Yet, to be thus is nothing and safely thus is nothing still when, this bank a shoal of time will wash away into the lock and the rock and stone are battered down again by soft winds and rain. When great Birnam wood rises to reclaim the earth from man's fleeting grasp, who will remember the King or his keep?

Saturday, February 25, 2012

Taco Tuesday

An earsplittingly loud sound brought my third grade physical education class to a halt. My fellow classmates and I stopped doing our sit ups for fitness testing and proceeded to stare at each other. Everyone’s faces were painted with shock and suspicion. The noise we had all heard had sounded like a motorcycle crashing at full speeds through the gymnasium walls.  A bomb had just gone off, and it had exploded in my gym shorts. I didn't know whether to be ashamed or proud that such a powerful and robust noise had come out of my very own hind quarters.

When the other whippersnappers began to whisper and point their fingers in my direction, I quickly came to the conclusion that they had all solved the mystery of the Phy Ed Class Farter. It was time to do damage control.

“Okay, um, I know what that sounded like,” I began, “But I didn’t toot.”  They all looked at me in disbelief, so I felt obliged to demonstrate my innocence by rubbing my shoe on the gym floor. It imitated the sound of passing gas, but it didn't do my monstrous trouser trumpet justice. I looked at my classmates with wide eyes. I was encumbered with with worry, for even at that age I knew public farting was a high crime in any social setting. With a shaking voice I pleaded, “You guys got to believe me! It was my shoe. I swear!”

                My gym teacher, whom I don’t remember in detail for I was a young child of only nine when I perpetrated this felony of flatulence, said something along the lines of, “It’s okay, Colleen. Let’s get back to our sit ups everybody.” Unfortunately, one of my peers didn’t plan to let me off the hook that easy. A dark haired girl with hideous bangs, who’s name either has escaped me or I have blocked out of my memory, stood to her feet. With her hands on her hips, she looked at me and sassily pointed out the obvious, “We’re not dumb, Colleen. That obviously was not your shoe.”   She proceeded to gesture insidiously at me with her pointer finger and say in an authoritative tone, “You farted!”

                Suddenly gas wasn’t the only thing bubbling up inside of me. Volcanic anger was about to explode out of my every pour. I leaped to my feet and said something very mature. With wisdom beyond my years I noted, “When you point one finger at me, there are three pointing back at yourself.”

                At that, a blonde friend of my deviant accuser rushed to her evil friend’s defense. “So-and-so would never toot. Lying will not get you out of this. We all know it was you.”

                The jury of third graders nodded their heads. That was my breaking point.

“Fine!” I yelled. “You caught me! I cut the cheese. And I would have gotten away with it if it weren’t for you meddling kids!”

                The gym teacher attempted to calm me down. “Colleen, relax. This kind of stuff happens all the time.”

                “Only on Taco Tuesdays!” I screamed. I through my head to the ceiling, shook my balled up fists in the air, and cried to the heavans, “Curse you lunch ladies!”

The teacher sent me into the hall and told me to come back when once I had made myself tranquil.  Seeing as I have never been a tranquil individual, especially under the circumstances I had just faced, I did not return to class that day. Later on I realized that public humiliation was worth  missing out on fitness testing. To this day my heart breaks a little bit further every time I hear the word “shuttle run”. This was the first time of many that my boisterous bottom burps have somehow worked to my advantage. How I do this I will leave up to your imagination, for it is my secret to success and I am not an altruistic person.


Thursday, February 16, 2012

The Treatment- Chapter 1

Nighttime in Obsidian City offers little visibility, but tonight it was especially difficult to see. The new moon cast its invisible eye over the streets, which were pierced at intervals by blue LED streetlights. From a bird's eye view, the shifting smog made a screen through which no shapes could be distinguished.
 
A perfect night for the aspiring vandal.
 
Climbing the top rung of a ladder, Havaj swung his lithe body onto the roof of an apartment building. With practiced movements, he slithered from shadow to shadow and leaped from one rooftop to the next. The slum's side streets, too narrow for automobiles to pass through,  were perfect for this type of acrobatic travel. He had traversed this route countless times, and in this moment he liked to entertain the idea that the whole district belonged to him. It was colloquially named the Maze District due to the multitude of narrow paths. Touching down on the last rooftop in his domain, he peered over the edge into the next district. There, the buildings were spaced too far apart to leap across. This was the Gray District, home to Obsidian City's lower-middle class. A faint humming sound caught Havaj's ears, and he caught a glimpse of a squad car coming down the street before quickly ducking out of view. As quiet as the cars' electrical engines were, his trained ears allowed him to avoid their patrols. Although he hadn't done anything illegal yet, being caught out this late would certainly arouse suspicion.

After the engine's hum faded, Havaj carefully slid off the side of building, landing with a thud on the dumpster below. He crept over to the building's corner and surveyed the street to the left. The corner of his mouth twisted as he scanned, not finding what he was searching for. Suddenly, a small stone hit him in the back of the head. Whipping his head around to the right, he sighted the culprit a few buildings away. Havaj rubbed the back of his head as he gave the other boy a rude gesture. A smirk broke the boy's sharp features he patted his backpack and nodded. Havaj checked his own pack, accounting for his three cans of spray paint. He nodded back to his comrade, and then they both dashed across the street. They continued in this manner, dashing parallel from street to street and stopping to listen for squad cars. It was almost like a game. Several blocks into the district, Havaj finally sighted his target. Rising above a nondescript convenience store was a large, eye-catching billboard. It depicted a woman with her arm wrapped around a little boy; both had clear blue eyes and content smiles. They also had matching ports sticking out above their left collarbones. The caption read: "Eumenfield Medical- every patient, every solution, every day." 
 
The stone-thrower casually crept up to stand beside Havaj, who shot him a wry look. "Dammit, Symon," Havaj said. "Was the stone really necessary?"

"Well, you looked pretty confused standing there, and I wasn't going to shout," Symon replied in his high, sandpapery voice. "You forget the checkpoint we agreed on last night?" He chuckled and elbowed Havaj.

"I would have found you eventually." Havaj said, rolling his eyes.
 
 "Hey, the ends justify the means." Symon tilted his head towards the Eumenfield billboard. "Ok, buddy, it's time for some Maze District-style renovation."

They scaled the rusty steel ladder up the side of the convenience store, landing in a crouched position on the roof. Opening their backpacks, they tied black bandanas over their faces and grabbed the cans of spray paint. Then the renovation began. Amid Symon's snickers, they brutally vandalized the billboard. It was a quick and sloppy job, but their goal wasn't a work of art. The two vandals stepped back and admired their handiwork. The woman and little boy now had the heads of sheep, and the new caption read: "Eumenfield Medical- every patient is manipulated, every solution is part of the problem, every day is lived in fear."

"Pretty great, huh?" Symon said, patting Havaj on the back. "Now let's get our asses home."

"Put your hands up and come out where we can see you. You are under arrest!" The stentorian shout echoed from the street below. Havaj shakily turned towards the voice. The barrel of an assault rifle was pointing at him like a cold, accusing finger.

Circle and Square

It took some time for them
to be able to fit their personalities
into one another's lives

Arguments sufficed
but none that would cut each other down
for their love was too strong

Sometimes the words would sting
but the sweet and tender kisses would heal the wounds

Neither of them could live without each other
the hours spent apart during the day
couldn't be longer or drudge on any further

For they couldn't wait to see each other
For him to get home from the office
For her to come home from her special spot on top of the hill

With colorful paint all over her hands, arms and hair pulled up in a messy bun
With his business suit, ironed and pressed
He looks sleek, fine and proper

Two separate worlds collide together
And they love each other for who they are
The Circle and the Square

New Hope

The silver dress hangs there patiently
Staring at her
More than her staring at it

Her closet be open
But is cold and dark
It sways back and forth

Collecting dust, the days go by
It's almost time for new scenery
She should show it a good time before everyone parts their separate ways

Just one last song
One last dance
One last hoo-rah before her year ends

Many offers have been made
But she doesn't see the point
Feet will eventually throb and she
Will become deaf by the end of the night

But then...an angel
In the eyes of a young man
swayed her in the direction of a new hope

He changed her mind
He asked her
And she couldn't resist

The silver dress was put on and was escorted by her savior
For that one night
It was the greatest night of her life

What Have I Done?

What have i done?
i can't believe i'm depriving them from being together

Lovers should not live apart
Lovers should live with each other

i blame my selfish desires
To want to start my new life without realizing i ruined theirs

Spur of the moment decisions
Can drive a stake through one's heart

i made us leave him crying in the dust
That strong man didn't even have a chance to fight

Wishing i could turn back time
To make better of myself that i couldn't beforehand

But heartbreak...
Is only the beginning.

They Failed Me


I love the first
I loved the second
They failed me
The first gave it a shot
The second ignored me
They failed me
The first is here but
conflicted
He failed me
He likes me but not
that way
He failed me
We should stop but
are addicted
He failed me
The second is
far away
He failed me
He likes me but
refuses to hold me
He failed me
He doesn’t even
make an effort
He failed me
I love the first
I loved the second
They failed me
And they will continue
to do so
until they let go of the complications of the world

The Difference


You are different
I see you sneaking in the shadows
I watch you change in the light of the moon
I am the same as you
I am different than them
Just like you
We are wolves
I sneak in the shadows
I change in the light of the moon
We have instincts that we follow
We are not another group of posers
We are wolves
We are different from them
We will never be the same
You see the difference
I see the difference
They will never see the difference
We are wolves
 We are strong and fast
They are weak and slow
We are at the mercy of the moon
Of the cycle  
We are wolves
We change in the moon beams
They now know our secret
We are in danger
We need to run
We need to be wild
We are wolves
We are a pack
We are free
We are wolves

Will You Take a Chance?

Trust no one
It’s what I’ve been taught

But what to you do, when you’ve been caught
Falling in love
It’s careless to do

I could get out…
But I don’t want to

“You act irresponsible, you’re using a crutch”
But how is this true…
When I love you so much?

They don’t know what it’s like,
They’ve never been young
Their love was arranged
No song to be sung

No happy feet, hand in hand
That’s what we’re experiencing,
Isn’t it grand?

Who cares what they say, it’s love that they lack
I’ll keep living this way until you don’t love me back

Regret

The sunrises and the sunsets
I wake up and I fall asleep
I feel it and it disappears

You are not here

People talk the winds blow
Everything’s subconscious, far below
Feeling no peace, close to no body

Experiencing no growth

I try to muster up courage
But it’s over taken by fear
All the anxiety I thought would disappear
In the spur of a moment

Because you were here

Maybe it’s my fault; maybe I’m the one
Whose fault is it?
It has to be someone’s
I’ll blame it on myself, cause there’s no other way

And live with regret
‘till I see you one day

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

A Morning Talk


Practicality.
That’s what you were talking about that dark November morning
The air was cool and damp
We sat on the roof and skipped stones across the sky
Through a storm of bursting stars
The rain began to fall, but it hit the bottom of our feet first
Still you talked of practicality and sense
Your words droned on
Part of the air
The stars
The rain
And I walked off of the rooftop
Fell through the air
Through the stars
Through the rain
Until my feet met the soft grass and I let go of my breath

--I think I could possibly expand on this one and a few more details, or maybe it's better being short?

(name in process)


I saw you once,
Walking down the street on a bright sunny day.
You looked pleasantly surprised to see me, but I could not respond.
Eyes locked, you reached to hold
And I looked away, eyes cast down at the ground.
Your face twisted with confusion,
Of hurt and something else.
“Why won’t you look at me?” I think you asked.
That was when my heart clenched and the world grew still,
The sound of silence filled my ears.
I thought of all the ways to tell you,
Anything to make this easier,
On you and on me.
But all the words had gone,
Escaped from my throat.
“You’re dead,” the words slipped.
And then it made sense.
You realized your mistake and were gone without a final word.
Just one last look before you left me alone.
After a moment I turned around and decided to walk the way I just came,
Back to my house, behind the closed door
Before I saw you that bright sunny day.

Mountain and Sea


How I believe the world is one
Is nothing more than a hopeless thought.
Composed of matter and energy
Likelihood among all, living or not,
Is true rather than plausible.
Mistake not what I think
For I know the logistics behind
Which the said is based upon.
It is of such knowledge
I bestow unto my mind
To dwell
To decipher
To reason
To concur.
Though, in doing so, I stymie the mind to
A point of perplexity.
Caught between science and intuition,
The human factor ignites a debate
Far beyond this mountain and sea.
Question, I may, about my sheer presence.
A symbol of biology’s most complex specimen
Or a product of nothingness which is allowed to
Appoint a gist of significance.
Wondering how this could abide
Should not be the foundation
Of conclusion.
Rather what this purports and contributes
To the purity of subsistence.
Clarity over such opposition
Shall never be.
Not one nor the other can stand
Alone.
For what it is worth
I believe they coexist.


Cadence

Time cements itself
Amongst the surrealist
Aspects of nature 

Mundane stars are
Arsenic as they
Threaten an aphotic sky 

From below the roots rest
Penetrating the extents
Of a decrepit land 

Life’s seniti
Is a principle without
Meaning, air

Motions are coarsened
By the matter
In which they are composed of 

Sounds of stillness
Are insinuated with the
Assistance of essentiality

A raw heart
Cadences with
Nameless emotions

Vengeance - Chapter 2


Getting Back

The two warriors reached the bottom of the mountain while the night was still young. Zilfer was shinning with sweat at the effort of keeping up with Mavric, but he was still breathing easy. I guess all that training I did with Thern was worth it, he thought with a grin.
Mavric was staring at the city when Zilfer jogged over to him. “Do you want to keep moving or should we stop for the night?” Zilfer asked.
“I want to see the city before we leave,” Mavric said evenly.
Before Zilfer could answer he started running toward the buildings. With a sigh, the barbarian followed thinking, I have a really bad feeling about this. Mavric hasn’t been in a social setting in years. I really don’t want to have to fight him this early on.
Mavric slowed to a walk as he hit the dirt road that led up to the city. Even though it was the dead of night Wyrvenak was bustling. The city was known for being a place to come to party and gamble because every other building was either a bar, casino, or inn. There was also a bazaar filled with the strangest assortment of shops imaginable where one could buy almost anything if they pleased.
A group of slightly drunken men were walking out of a casino when Mavric came into sight. They all froze immediately, gaping at him. He grinned at them and with that every single one ran screaming in a different direction. Despite the city being one of many sounds and emotions, screams of fear was no common occurrence and it drew a lot of attention. One brave soul drew his broadsword and pointed it at him. “What are you doing here demon?! Stay away from our home!” he called. Despite his bravado, everyone could tell he was shaking.
Mavric’s grin only grew wider. “What a wonderful welcoming committee! I hoped you all hadn’t forgotten me. Did you miss me?” he asked, his voice fluctuating from happiness to a menacing growl.
Another man joined the first, brandishing a spear. “Get away from us!” he yelled. One more joined them, bringing the challengers to a total of three.
As they glared at him, Mavric’s grin never faltered as he reached back to grip his scythe. He pulled the weapon from its straps and slammed the curved blade into the ground. “Shall we gentlemen?” he asked.
Fear flashed across each man’s face, but they knew they couldn’t back down now. The three charged in unison, raising their weapons high and letting out a battle cry. Mavric let out an insane laugh that drew a shutter from the crowd that had gathered to watch. A loud gasp and several screams sounded as the first man to reach him fell to the ground without a head and his blood splattered across the dust. The second ducked down and aimed his spear for Mavric’s stomach. He sidestepped the thrust and broke the wooden staff with one kick from his black boot. Curling in his leg he drove a second kick into his assailant’s chest, sending him flying back into the crowd. The final man dropped his weapon and looked up at him with pleading eyes. Mavric smiled and said, “You shouldn’t have picked a fight with me you foolish little man.”
He then raised his scythe over his head but a mighty cry split the air and made him hesitate. As he looked over he found Zilfer had rammed his way through the crowd and before he could react, tackled him to the ground. Mavric thrashed around like a wild animal but Zilfer held him down. The big man looked around to find the crowd still watching and he roared at them, “What the hell are you people doing? Get out of here! I can’t hold him forever!”
Finally breaking from their horrified stupor, the people ran screaming from the street. Mavric continued to thrash until Zilfer slapped him across the face. This seemed to bring him back and he looked up. Then he smiled lightly, “Oh come on man, I was just having a bit of fun. It’s been years since I got to kill anyone. Do you know how much I miss hearing a man’s scream before I slit his throat? My hair has been so stiff without human blood to wash it with. I missed humans.”
Zilfer looked down at his friend and for the first time since the parade he thought, Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to bring him down. He closed his eyes to steady himself before saying, “Mavric, don’t you remember what we talked about before I left you to your exile? Killing people is bad unless it’s in self-defense. You can’t just go around murdering for no reason and you especially can’t go picking fights like you just did.”
His expression changed to one of a pouting child as he said, “But Zilfer, they attacked me! Didn’t you see it? I was defending myself.” As he said the last words a giggle slipped out. He pursed his lips for a moment, as if trying to hold it in, but he still failed as his insane laughter erupted.
The psychotic cackles sent shivers down even Zilfer’s spin. Two years later and I still can’t stand that sound. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to that laugh. Every time I hear it I know someone is going to die…
Abruptly, the sound stopped, yanking Zilfer back to reality as Mavric said, “Now, get off me or I’ll move you.”
“You couldn’t-,” Zilfer began but before he could even finish the man beneath him growled and pushed him onto his back.
Mavric stood, his brow furrowed in anger. But he seemed to be able to reign himself in this time as he placed his weapon back on his back. “I guess we have to leave now don’t we? Too bad, I had hopped to see a little more of the city. I’m just not welcome here anymore,” he said sadly.
“We’re not really welcome anywhere Mavric. We never have been, but it’s never stopped us before,” Zilfer said once he got his breath back. Mavric offered a hand and helped his friend back to his feet. “Come on Mavric, we’ve got a doctor to talk to.”
Nodding, the two turned and headed back down the road they came in. As they neared the entrance however, something made Zilfer stop. “Oh no, not them,” he whispered. Mavric followed his gaze and found what made his friend so worried.
Three men were blocking their path. Each was dressed very similarly, but in a different color. Each wore a heavy overcoat, large fedora, shinning sunglasses, and had long hair. The man on the left was in all yellow, the right in orange, and the man in the middle was in bright red. “The Diefendorf brothers,” Mavric said in contempt.
The brothers ruled Wyrvenak as an oligarchy; each had equal power and made decisions as a group. They had taken over when their fourth brother that wasn’t related by blood was killed by Oriax and his band of demons. The brothers had changed Wyrvenak from a respectable city to the hive of greed and glutton it had become.
“What do we do now?” Zilfer wondered aloud.
“Talk with them, and if they don’t get out of our way push past them. What else do we ever do?” Mavric said, his tone exasperated.
Nodding, Zilfer followed as Mavric walked up to the trio. The man threw open his arms and cried, “Rot! Orange! Gelb! It’s been far too long my friends! How have you been?”
The man in red, Rot, pointed his cane at Mavric and yelled in a thick accent, “Vhat zhe hell do you zhink you are doing in our city Zakainhi?!”
“You can’t just show up and kill a man!” Gelb, the man in yellow, yelled.
“Ve told you never to come back!” Orange, the man in orange, finished.
Putting up his hands in mock innocence Mavric said, “I swear we were just passing through and those men attacked me. I never intended to kill anyone.”
“Bull! You always kill people vherever you go!” Gelb yelled.
Zilfer finally caught up and said, “Please brothers, we honestly didn’t mean to cause any trouble. We were just on our way to Javion and some men stopped us and picked a fight. You know how Mavric reacts when that happens, please forgive us, we were just about to leave.”
Rot glared at Zilfer but said, “Because I like your brother, I’m going let you leave this time Yendgar. But zo  ‘elp me, if you two come back to our city and cause trouble again, we will ‘ave you killed! Now get zhe hell out!”
“Thank you sir, we won’t come back, I promise,” Zilfer thanked as he all but dragged Mavric past the three. Once they were out, both men broke into a run. Once they were far out into the grassy planes, far enough that Wyrvenak was just a bright dot on the horizon, they fell down laughing. “I can’t believe that worked,” Zilfer said with a giggle.
“Neither can I. Those three must be getting soft. I remember last time I killed someone in the city they hired a few assassins to kill me. This time they barely seemed to care!” Mavric laughed.
Growing grimmer, Zilfer said, “Maybe that’s just how bad it’s gotten there. I mean it’s only been, what, five years since those three took power? In that time Wyrvenak has become a pit for all kinds of sin and blackness. Maybe a murder means no more than petty theft to them now.”
Mavric had looked serious throughout the whole speech and when he finished a dark sneer took over his features, “Oh? And your city where a holiday means everyone goes out into the streets and has a murderous free for all is perfectly okay?”
“Procka is different-,” Zilfer started but he was cut off.
“Don’t waste time with excuses my old friend, every city has its own brand of evil. Some are just more on the surface than others. Just look at some of the things Ation has covered up over the years. And Javion? They have a nineteen-year-old girl running things. There’s no way some kind of shifty old council of men are either running things or letting her do as she pleases by sleeping with her. Dummheit is a dark place Zilfer, we just have to accept that and protect what we can.”
As Mavric finished his speech he began walking. Zilfer was frozen in place by the horrible truths his friend had spouted. Has my home really become such a corrupt place without my noticing? And what have I been doing to change things? Sitting around training with my brother. If this threat hadn’t come before us would I still be there?
A voice broke his thoughts and he jumped slightly when he realized Mavric was right beside him again. The smaller man placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder and said quietly, “Don’t let it get you down Zilfer. The world has always been evil; you can’t take all that responsibility on your shoulders. You may be strong, but you’re not that strong. Dark events have always driven men to action. Are they always the best men? No, they rarely are. But in the end things change, and that’s just what the world needs. Men willing to try and change it for the better.” He then patted his friend on the shoulder and began walking again.
This time a smile came over Zilfer’s lips and he watched Mavric move farther away. You may be a psychotic murderous bastard, but you’re still my best friend Mavric. Thank you for that. He then jogged to catch up and followed the direction he was taking. Time to find our other friends, he thought with a smile.
As neither man had lived a very exciting life since they had split, Zilfer just training in Procka and Mavric exiled on a mountain, their conversation dried up quickly. In the silence, Zilfer was finally able to appreciate the beauty that was the northern dominance he lived in.
The vast majority of the north was made up of wheat fields and tall grasses. The skies were clear and the red sun always shone brightly during the day and the moon at night. While there were roads available to caravans, they were rarely used by travelers, as it was generally faster to just walk straight to the city you intended to get to.
The sparsely populated lands of Dummheit were concentrated in big cities scattered around the north mostly. Thin rivers ran alongside the cities but both the north and the south had the problem of having no massive body of water to draw from. Caravans to the west to take trips to the Endless Sea were where the cities of the north got their water.
On the third day of their trek, as the sun was beginning to set, the steel city of Javion came into view. Javion was known to be the most ‘advanced’ city in all of Dummheit because everything in the city was built of either metal or glass. It was also the newest city to the north, being little five hundred years old.
As the two approached the place, the cities lights began to spring to life, giving an even glow. All power was gotten from burning coal that was shipped from the southern dominance.
Two guards stood at the massive gate leading into the city as Mavric and Zilfer neared. The guards grew stiff as they came closed and one held up a hand while crying, “Halt! State your names and business in Javion travelers!”
Mavric chuckles but he stopped when Zilfer shot him a dirty look. The large man straitened himself and said, “My name is Zilfer Yendgar and this is my friend Mavric Zakainhi. We have come to visit our old friend the doctor, Voult Vesadris.”
One of the guards jaw dropped open. Both men reached for their swords in unison and the sound of metal grinding filled the air. “Mavric Zakainhi is the most wanted man in the whole Northern Dominance. We will have to take you into custody, demon hunter!” the second man yelled.
Rolling his eyes, Mavric pulled his scythe from his back. “Do you fools really want to fight me? I’m already in trouble with Zilfer for killing someone at the last place we visited, I don’t want him to yell at me again,” Mavric whined.
The first guard’s armor began vibrating from his terrified shaking. “It’s our duty sir, we have to take you in. Our honor will be damaged if we-,” but before he could finished he screamed as Mavric launched himself.
He cowered, covering his face. The only sounds that came from outside his helmet were the sound of a loud grunt, and metal grinding on metal. When he dared to open his eyes and look around, he found Zilfer had Mavric in a choke hold and he had knocked the other guard to the ground with a punch. The giant of a man looked down and said, “I would recommend not raising the alarm. I, unlike my friend, do not enjoy killing innocent men, but I will defend him and me if that is what it comes to. The choice is yours.”
With that he walked through the gate, finally letting go of Mavric when they were far enough away. Rubbing his neck, Mavric said, “What that really necessary? Did we have to let him live? I hate those idiotic guards with their constant honor defending speeches.”
Rolling his eyes, Zilfer just said, “Of course it was necessary. We can’t see Voult if we can’t even get into the city. If I let you kill those men there would be a search party. No we can move without their hunting us and hopefully by the time that fool raises an alarm we’re be long gone.”
Crossing his arms and shaking the hair from his eyes, Mavric didn’t say anything. Zilfer grinned and thought, Can’t escape that logic, can you my insane friend?
The pair slid into the massive crowd all headed for parties or friend’s homes with ease. No one noticed them, despite how obviously they stuck out. Javion was not only a modern city in its structure; it was modern in its lifestyle as well. Nearly every resident had grown accustomed to wearing with a full suit or a gown everywhere they went. Javion was a city of class, they insisted on being presentable no matter the circumstance; whether that be sitting down for tea or watching a fighting tournament.
“So, where are we headed?” Mavric asked, “You’re the one who’s been in the loop lately, where would Voult be on a night like tonight?” Zilfer chuckled at the question. Mavric looked up and found his friend with a wide grin on his face. “What?” he asked again.
“Well Mavric, as you remember our friend Voult is a classy guy. He’s also one of the richest men and most accomplished doctors in all of Dummheit, so he will most certainly be hosting a party at his mansion,” he explained. He then looked down with an even wider grin, “Let’s go crash it.”
This earned a maniacal cackle from Mavric and the two turned for the rich district. It took no time at all to find that biggest mansion, Voult’s home. They walked up to it and Zilfer raised his fist to knock. As the sounds echoed around the mostly empty square, the two began to wonder if he was home. That was when the door creaked open and inside came sounds of music and laughter. I think we found the right place, Zilfer thought happily.
The one that had opened the door for them was an old man in a fine suit. “Good evening gentlemen,” he said calmly, “This is doctor Vesadris’s home, if you are here for the festivities I will need your names to make sure you were invited.”
“Of course,” Zilfer said, “I am Zilfer Yendgar and this is Mavric Zakainhi.”
The old man’s eyes widened when he took a closer look at them. Then he smiled for the first time and said, “Of course, Master Voult’s old companions. Please do come in Master Yendgar.” As they took a step into the house, the old man turned and placed a hand up to Mavric, “You on the other hand are not aloud in Master Zakainhi. Master Vesadris made it very clear that he did not want you coming in under any circumstances. You will have to find a way to occupy yourself while Master Yendgar and Master Vesadris speak.”
Mavric’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Just let me in old man,” he said harshly. He tried to push past, but the man put his hand up to stop him again. “I said, let me-,” he started to yell, but the old man their thrust his arm forward and propelled Mavric onto the cobblestone street outside.
He quickly jumped up in surprise and the old man said, “I insist you follow his request sir.”
He threw a pleading look to Zilfer but his friend just said, “I think we should listen this time Mavric, I’ll be quick, I promise.”
Growling something under his breath, Mavric stalked off in the other direction. Zilfer threw his own worried glance at the old man thinking, I don’t think anyone but me and maybe my friends has ever stood up to Mavric and gotten him to back down before. He can sense things about people, he can sense power. Who is this man?
“Shall we get back to the party then Master Yendgar?” the old man asked with a warm smile as he slammed the door.
“Of course,” Zilfer said, mimicking the smile so as not to antagonize the strange man. As they walked down the hall, Zilfer couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Might I ask your name sir?”
“My name is Rufus sir. I am Master Vesadris’s butler. I make sure everything is in order in his home. I apologize about your friend, but I understand Master Zakainhi to be a bit of a trouble maker and Master Voult made it clear that he was not to come in without his consent,” he explained.
“I understand,” Zilfer said simply, still dwelling on what had just occurred. His thoughts were quickly push aside however when they reached the end of the long hallway to find the party in full swing. You never were one to skimp on flair were you Voult? Zilfer thought as he looked at the massive room.
The middle was taken up by a large dance floor, which had couples in their finest twirling about to the music of a band playing joyful music off to the side. On the far side of the crowded room was a long white table with dozens of different wines sitting, waiting to be tasted. “And here is where I leave you sir. Good luck getting his attention, Master Vesadris is a very popular man,” Rufus the butler said as he walked back into the sea of people.
Zilfer scanned the room and found Voult with no trouble at all. He was at the center of a group of laughing partygoers. The life of the party as ever I see, Zilfer thought with a grin.
As he made his way through the crowd he couldn’t help but laugh at how much he stuck out. Everyone there was at least a head shorter than the barbarian and they all were very fair skinned. His lack of a shirt also made him stand out quite a bit.
When he drew close enough, Voult looked up from his audience and his jaw dropped. Throwing his arms in the air in welcome he cried, “My old friend Zilfer! It’s so good to see you!” He pushed his way through the crowd and threw his arms around the man in greeting.
“It’s good to see you too Voult,” Zilfer said as he patted his friend on the back. Voult was much different from the rest of their group. He was a man of class, he was always dressed in sharp white suits, his hair was always cropped short, and he had a full but well trimmed beard despite his young age of twenty four.
When he finally pulled away, the doctor said, “Come with me Zilfer, I am sure we have much to catch up on and it is very loud in this room.” Nodding his approval, the two slipped through a side door in a smaller sitting room. Snatching up a bottle of wine and a glass on the way, Voult poured himself some of the dark red liquid and fell into an armchair. “So tell me, what brings you to Javion my friend?”
Falling into chair himself, Zilfer waved his arm at the offer of wine and said, “Well Voult, you know I’ve never been one for drawing things out so I’ll just get to the point. There is a traveling priest named Morroar Urthadar who has been giving a sermon about how Oriax is coming back. This time with an army.”
Voult chocked on his wine at the news and he wheezed, “What?!” Zilfer just nodded that he had heard right. “But we sealed him didn’t we? Mavric’s spell was supposed to make sure he could never come out of Hell again!”
Shaking his head, Zilfer said, “That’s what we thought too my friend, but this man says otherwise. According to him, we have about a month before he puts his plan into action. The sermon has also been convincing people to side with him so he’ll have humans on his side as well. He is supposed to make his reappearance on the Fields of Morsus. I don’t know how, but I don’t want to take any chances. Can we count on you Voult?”
The doctor had put his glass down and was holding his head in his hands. “I was supposed to be down with all this,” he said to himself, “I didn’t want to have any more trouble. I just wanted to heal people, grow old, and be happy. Damn it, why did this have to happen?” Zilfer hadn’t expected this reaction. The surprise yes, but not this sad reluctance. Voult had always been there for them, despite his protests. But before he could say anything, he lifted his head and said with a sigh, “As long as I can stay here, I will help you Zilfer. When the time comes you can use my home as a base. Javion is the closest to the Fields of Morsus anyway.”
A grin spread across Zifler’s face and he said, “Thank you Voult. I knew we would be able to trust you.”
The man offered a weak smile and said, “Of course you can Zilfer, you guys have saved me more times than I can count. I’ll always be here for you. But you should probably get going, if you’re looking for everyone I’m sure that’ll eat up time that you don’t have much of.”
Pushing himself out of the chair, Zilfer said, “You are absolutely right my friend. I’ll go find Mavric and get out of your hair-er, beard.”
Laughing, Voult rose as well and shook Zilfer’s hand. “Goodbye for now my friend. I guess I’ll see you in a month.”
The two walked back into the party and Zilfer froze. The room had gone silent but for one man. He was giving a sort a speech, and he was bald wearing a long robe. Around his neck was an 0 shaped pendant. Morroar Urthadar had come to give his sermon. “I thought I recognized that name you gave me,” Voult said under his breath, “Morroar was invited to my party.”
“Who is this man?” Zilfer wondered quietly as the priest was finishing up. It had been as if the people were in a trance because the moment he finished, they filled the room again, hiding the priest from view. Shaking himself, Zilfer said, “I need to get out of here, Mavric can’t see this man or he’ll attack.”
Voult looked up at him with a curious expression, “Why wouldn’t you want that? Wouldn’t getting this guy out of the picture early on be a good thing?”
“It would, but you’re forgetting he works for a demon. There’s no way he’s defenseless. I’d bet anything he’s trying to goad us into a trap,” Zilfer speculated.
Nodding, Voult said, “Good point. I’ll get you to the door.”
As the two made their way out, they passed Rufus balancing two huge trays of food. Zilfer glanced back and asked, “I am curious Voult, where did you find that man?”
His brow furrowed, Voult said, “Rufus? He came to my door one day asking for work. I think he’s an old warrior to be honest because he sure is good at keeping unwanted visitors out. Why do you ask?”
“What?” Zilfer asked, lost in thought. Then it registered and he said, “Oh, no reason. I’ve just never seen a man that could push Mavric back so easily. I was just curious.”
They reach the door and Voult pushed it open. “Well, I guess this is goodbye for now,” he said sadly.
Zilfer clasped him on the arm, “For now my old friend. Stay safe.”
“You too,” he said with a smile before closing the door.
The moment Zilfer turned Mavric was standing in front of him. “Well?” he asked impatiently.
“He’ll help, just like I said.”
“Good, we’ll need a good healer. Can’t be too careful,” Mavric said grimly, “Now let’s get out of here. I hate how this city feels.”
Nodding, Zilfer decided not to tell him any more and the two walked back to the gate. “So where are we headed next do you suppose?” Zilfer pondered aloud.
“Ation’s close, why don’t we go find Xam?” Mavric said. Nodding, Zilfer grinned. “What are you so happy about?” Mavric asked with a sneer.
“We’re getting the team back together, doesn’t that excite you a little?” Zilfer asked.
Mavric chuckled. “Oh Zilfer, the prospect of Xam’s horrible manners and zero attention span just thrills me.”
“Says the man who kills people who bother him,” Zilfer teased.
For a moment he wasn’t sure if he’d crossed a line but then Mavric just laughed. “I guess you have a point there. Now let’s go, we don’t have much time.”
Not much time at all, Zilfer thought, being truthful. What will happen when you and this Morroar man meet I wonder? What will Oriax’s personal priest be able to do? I just hope we make it out with all of us alive.
I’m not sure how either of us would handle losing a friend.