Okay, friends! I think it's about time I actually wrote something on here.
Thing 34: A cockroach at the Roosevelt
So apparently the Roosevelt is a hotel. Knowing that, let's go!
---------------------------
"Right this way, Mr. Smythe."
Mr. Smythe smiled and bowed repeatedly as he followed the well-dressed stewart through the ornate halls of the Roosevelt Hotel. The plush, familiar carpet felt foreign through the polished shoes and silk socks he now wore. He tried his best to not look uncomfortable as he let the steward guide him to his room.
It was a short walk to room 508, with Mr. Smythe's eyes darting around in curious wonder all the while. His head shot back and forth across the hall as he took it all in. Things were much smaller than he was used to, but he still found it difficult to capture all of the details within his limited field of view. He wanted as much detail as possible for what was to come.
When they arrived the disappointed steward was dismissed with another congenial bow. Mr. Smythe closed the door behind him, eager to begin.
Well, he thought, that was easy enough.
His disguise was clearly sufficient, though he found this form to be woefully limited. How the humans could bear to live this way was beyond him.
In any case, if all went according to plan they wouldn't be alive much longer.
Mr. Smythe removed his clothing as quickly as he could, anxious to be free of his prison. His excitement grew as he folded his suit neatly on the bed. The tailored outfit was imperative to the second phase of his plan, so he didn't want to take any chances with damaging it.
He took a few steps back, standing stark naked in the middle of the room. With a deep breath, he began to change.
His pink skin began to darken as his exoskeleton reformed. Familiar appendages sprouted from his sides, and where once there were hands and feet vicious claws now sat. His shoulder blades contorted as wings split through his rapidly disintegrating skin.
With but a thought, Mr. Smythe was gone. In the room now stood Zekaract, lord of the roaches. He chittered in anticipation as he looked around the room.
It's time to take over the world.
Tuesday, 30 July 2013
Monday, 29 July 2013
Thing 33: Tell the true story of a dramatic moment in your life, but weave in one secret and one lie.
This is my first entry written explicitly for the blog! I'll be following the same format, so I won't know that I'm writing about until I actually start. I find it forces me to be much more creative.
In any case, let's get this underway!
Thing 33: Tell the true story of a dramatic moment in your life, but weave in one secret and one lie.
Hmm... This is another particularly difficult one for me. I'm not sure which "dramatic moments" in my memory were imagined, and which were real. There are also only a few moments in my life that I would consider dramatic. The way my mind works makes picking something like that out of my memory very difficult.
The other aspect to this is that I'm generally a very honest and open person. As a result, I don't have any small secrets. Certainly none that I'd be willing to share in this context.
In any case, I don't really have a concept for this one, so I'll be skipping it.
In any case, let's get this underway!
Thing 33: Tell the true story of a dramatic moment in your life, but weave in one secret and one lie.
Hmm... This is another particularly difficult one for me. I'm not sure which "dramatic moments" in my memory were imagined, and which were real. There are also only a few moments in my life that I would consider dramatic. The way my mind works makes picking something like that out of my memory very difficult.
The other aspect to this is that I'm generally a very honest and open person. As a result, I don't have any small secrets. Certainly none that I'd be willing to share in this context.
In any case, I don't really have a concept for this one, so I'll be skipping it.
Saturday, 27 July 2013
Thing 32: Your friend calls to say she saw you in the back of a police car yesterday. What happened?
Originally posted to Facebook on July 25th, 2013.
Thing 32: Your friend calls to say she saw you in the back of a police car yesterday. What happened?
"You have some serious explaining to do."
I responded only with silence. The disappointment in Anna's voice was a crushing blow which caused an anxious lump to rise in my throat. She was my best friend, after all. How could I possibly explain this to her?
"Well? I'm waiting."
"I don't know what to say..."
Her exasperated sigh assaulted me through the receiver. It felt like a punch straight in the dignity. "You can start with why you were in that police car. You're not exactly the rebellious type, so what happened?"
It took me a moment to realize that my hand was shaking. Despite focusing all of my tattered willpower to the act, I could not stop its motion.
I was afraid.
I'd been frightened before, of course. There was a distinct sinking feeling when you thought your life was in danger, like what I experienced when I had to get a needle. But not even my phobia could have prepared me for what I was now experiencing.
But this was different. This wasn't a fear for my life, or some unexplained knot in my stomach. I knew exactly what was happening, and I knew that I could do nothing to stop it. I had done the one thing I had hoped against hope to never do; the one thing that I swore I would never let happen.
I had let her down.
A tear rolled down my cheek as I sat in silence. I could hear her soft breat through the receiver as she waited patiently for me to be ready. Even now she was compassionate. She knew how difficult this was for me, though I doubt she knew why.
Seeing the officer's disaproving glare abover me, I took a deep breath and swallowed the last shreds of my pride. "I'm sorry," I whispered.
"Dom, I --"
Her words were abruptly cut off as I hung up the phone. I couldn't bring myself to say it. Not to her. She was better off not knowing. As noble as my intentions were, what I had done was unforgivable, and she would be better off if she just forgot about me.
It would be hard at first, as close as we were, but in time she could fill my small void with joy that I could never bring her. In time, she would realize that I was nothing special.
I had killed a man, after all. There was no escaping that.
Thing 32: Your friend calls to say she saw you in the back of a police car yesterday. What happened?
"You have some serious explaining to do."
I responded only with silence. The disappointment in Anna's voice was a crushing blow which caused an anxious lump to rise in my throat. She was my best friend, after all. How could I possibly explain this to her?
"Well? I'm waiting."
"I don't know what to say..."
Her exasperated sigh assaulted me through the receiver. It felt like a punch straight in the dignity. "You can start with why you were in that police car. You're not exactly the rebellious type, so what happened?"
It took me a moment to realize that my hand was shaking. Despite focusing all of my tattered willpower to the act, I could not stop its motion.
I was afraid.
I'd been frightened before, of course. There was a distinct sinking feeling when you thought your life was in danger, like what I experienced when I had to get a needle. But not even my phobia could have prepared me for what I was now experiencing.
But this was different. This wasn't a fear for my life, or some unexplained knot in my stomach. I knew exactly what was happening, and I knew that I could do nothing to stop it. I had done the one thing I had hoped against hope to never do; the one thing that I swore I would never let happen.
I had let her down.
A tear rolled down my cheek as I sat in silence. I could hear her soft breat through the receiver as she waited patiently for me to be ready. Even now she was compassionate. She knew how difficult this was for me, though I doubt she knew why.
Seeing the officer's disaproving glare abover me, I took a deep breath and swallowed the last shreds of my pride. "I'm sorry," I whispered.
"Dom, I --"
Her words were abruptly cut off as I hung up the phone. I couldn't bring myself to say it. Not to her. She was better off not knowing. As noble as my intentions were, what I had done was unforgivable, and she would be better off if she just forgot about me.
It would be hard at first, as close as we were, but in time she could fill my small void with joy that I could never bring her. In time, she would realize that I was nothing special.
I had killed a man, after all. There was no escaping that.
Story Challenge 3: A man beyond time
This Story Challenge was originally posted to Facebook in two parts on July 22nd, 2013. The base concept arose at a party a few weeks earlier, and I'm tremendously pleased with the end result. The five concepts I went with were:
- Weida fighting raccoons to save a hot dog stand
- "And then I realised, ____ burns!"
- The Time Warp
- A winged unicorn fighting a blue moose
- THE BEES
--------------
Weida smiled as the vendor handed him the hot dog. His empty stomach grumbled in anticipation at the sight of it. It had been a very long day, and he hadn't had the chance to eat at all.
In his current state this burnt sausage was practically a luxury.
He licked the saliva and took a deep breath as he raised the hot dog toward his face. He wanted to devour the thing whole, but people were watching, so he thought it best to restrain himself. His hands shook as he struggled to refrain from smashing it into his mouth. The quick pace at which it ascended was far too slow for his liking, and he felt as if an eternity would pass before he'd feel the satisfaction he so desperately sought.
Just as the hot dog was passing his lips, a flash of fur and claws appeared out of nowhere, and suddenly his food was gone. He stood in shock for a moment, unable to understand why he wasn't eating right now. His shock was abruptly broken by the scream of the hot dog vendor as an angry raccoon ripped out his throat.
They were everywhere. Raccoons -- shrouded in rage and splattered with the blood of the plaza's civilians.
Hundreds of hissing beasts began to circle Weida, the last living soul in the area. The shaking of his body intensified as fear was added to hunger. The mixture of sensations was to much for him to handle. He was unable to act, unable to breathe.
Shadows crept into the edges of his vision as the circling beasts drew ever closer. Their leers danced in his fading sight.
And then there was only blackness.
...
Weida let out a groan as consciousness fought for control of his mind. He wasn't exactly sure what had happened, but the faces of hundreds of rabid raccoons was burned into his memory.
Could it have been a dream? Was he dead?
As he opened his eyes, he was met with the gaze of a spectral, blue moose, head tilted at an inquisitive angle.
"Hullo," said the moose.
Yup, thought Weida. Definitely dead.
"How's your head feeling?"
Weida chuckled to himself as he idly rubbed his throbbing temple. "As well as can be expected. I am dead, after all."
The moose met his laugh with one of its own. "You aren't dead, my friend." Its chest puffed up with pride as it continued: "I saved you!"
"Well then. Thanks, I guess." Weida shifted his eyes in discomfort, unsure of how to respond.
He was in a dark, shapeless place. A black void surrounded the pair, illuminated only by the light emanating from the moose's body. The black surface upon which he sat felt like tofu as he slid his hand across it.
"Where am I?"
"That's not really important," replied the moose. "What matters is that you're alive, and so we have a chance."
"A chance at what?"
The moose arched his eyebrow in incredulity. "A chance to win."
Seeing Weida's jaw drop, the moose continued. "Right now, my brother's raccoon army is tearing through the mortal world. For whatever reason, you were at the epicentre of his transdimensional gate, and so you have a unique opportunity to stop him. As you are now, he would crush you without breaking a sweat, but I was able to pull you out before the raccoons could deal their final blow.
"I'm going to train you, make you stronger, so that you can draw on the dimensional energies you've been subjected to and defeat my brother before he destroys your world." The moose reached out and laid a hoof on Weida's shoulder. "You are their only hope."
Weida looked down at the enormous hoof. He felt it. It was real.
With an uncertain swallow he looked back as the moose's face. "So, um... Who are you?"
The moose took it's arm back as it pondered the question. "I'm not entirely sure, to be honest. I've never needed a name before. I have always been, and always will be. How does one label eternity?"
"Right..."
"I'm sorry, I could make a name up if you'd like."
"No, that's okay. It wouldn't make much of a difference..." He sighed as he continued. "And your brother, is he... like you?"
"Yes, and no," came the cryptic reply. "Like me, my brother is eternal. But this form is my own. My brother's shape more closely resembles a pegasus."
"Pegasus?"
"Yes, a pegasus."
Weida's confusion silently prompted an explanation. "It's like a unicorn with wings. In your world they are most prevalent in Greek mythology."
"Why are you so different?"
"We are what we choose to be. I like moose, so I modeled myself after one for the time being. My brother wanted to appear more imposing."
Weida let the silence drag on. The moose waited patiently for him to be ready. He was overwhelmed by what was happening to him. He had never thought of himself as a hero, but this strange being was now telling him that the fate of the whole world rest in his hands. Was he ready for that responsibility?
Ready or not, he thought, I have to do this. There's noone to be brave for me.
Filled with grim resolve, he stood, a new man. Weida raised his clenched fist and looked the moose straight in the eye. "I'm ready. Teach me."
...
Weida shifted his weight as he waited for the moose to begin. They hand been standing like this for several minutes now, with the beast lost in thought and the man waiting patiently for some indication of how to proceed. The silence was becoming increasingly uncomfortable as the seconds passed, but he was too nervous to break it with what was probably a dumb question. He figured that a timeless spirit beast would have his reasons for making him wait.
When the moose opened it's eyes, it seemed shocked to see relief wash over the man before him. After pondering for a moment, its eyes softened empathetically.
"I'm sorry, I forgot how justifiaby impatient mortal creatures can be. I was examining the waves of time to determine how best to proceed."
After a few more moments of awkward silence, Weida cleared his throat. The moose took the queue and continued.
"Well, I've determined that to defeat my brother's army, we must use teh small, rather than the large. I'll teach you how to channel your void energy into many tiny, independent pieces to aid you in your battle. In just a few of your Earth years we should be ready to strike back."
"YEARS!?" The single word was all that he could manage to sneak past the lump in his throat. The matter-of-fact statement hit him with a wall of incredulity.
The moose remained unphased, thouh his head tilted in curiosity. "Of course. While you have a certain advantage, you are still only one man. It will take more than a little doing to get you ready to face my brother and his army. What did you expect?"
Indignant, Weida glared at the moose. "But what about the rest of the world?! What's going to happen to them?"
"Nothing, I expect," shrugged the moose. "They're all dead, after all."
Weida's stomach dropped. "Dead?" He could barely manage to whisper the word. It was as if his whole world had crumbled around him. All of his loved ones, all of his brothers... Nothing would be waiting for him when he returned.
Weida fell to his knees in despair. The sadness of the thought was crushing. Were there walls in this place they would surely be closing around his tortured soul. Deep down, he cursed the moose. He suspected, of course, that his world was in ashes, but somehow not knowing made it easier to deal with.
Ignorance truly was bliss.
The nonchalant voice of the moose brought Weida back to reality. "Sure they are," it said. "My brother is particularly good at this sort of thing. But there's no need to be so dramatic. You're going to stop it, after all."
Weida's eyes shot up to meet those of the moose, a glimmer of hope shining deep in their pupils. "I am?"
The moose sighed. "I suppose I should probably explain a few things before we continue," it said. "First of all, my brother and I are immortal, as I'm sure you have already guessed. Since we've been around for forever, we have some talents that are pretty unique.
"One of my brother's primary talents is control over beings. He's able to enter a non-willful consciousness and replace it with his own. He could theoretically do this thousands, if not millions of times to amass an army, but over time that has proven to be rather ineffective. Instead he takes over a few creatures of a given type that have certain useful characteristics and then he mirrors and merges their existence to create inumerable soldiers with a single mind. It's sort of like breeding, or cloning, but infinitely more complicated and more precise.
"My abilities, on the other hand, revolve more around a deep understanding of time and matter. I am able to read and manipulate waves and energies. It's a much more subtle form of control than that of my brother, but it certainly has its uses.
"Every so often my brother and I engage in what some might call a game, though it's more of a battle of wits. He will cause some form of catastrophe in an arbitrary space, and I must try to stop it from occurring. I usually have to be very careful in how I go about doing this, but by putting you at the epicentre of his event he has made a mistake. If you're willing to learn we should be able to deal with this incident with relative ease."
Weida gave himself a few minutes to consider what he'd heard before picking his jaw up from the floor. He swallowed the lump in his throat before slowly climbing to his feet. "So we can stop this?"
"If you're willing to learn."
Weida clenched his fist and loked the moose dead in the eye.
"Let's do this."
...
Weida smiled as the vendor handed him the hot dog. His empty stomach grumbled in anticipation. He had been waiting for this for a very, very long time.
He sighed quietly as he looked at the sausage. I wish I could eat you, he thought.
He watched the surrounding area carefully with his peripheral vision as he began to raise the hot dog to his mouth. It had only moved a few inches when a flash of movement at the far end of the plaza caught his eye.
They were here.
In a flash, he threw the hot dog into the air in front of him, right in the face of a very surprised raccoon. The beast flew forward, its intended path only slightly upset by the projectile. Weida met it with practiced confidence, catchingit with a sweeping motion and summarily breakng its neck.
One down, he thought.
Screams erupted in the plaza as the horde of raccoons swarmed through the trees. Their attention was focused solely on the man that had slain one of their comrades. Having found the moose's champion, their rampage could wait. Weida smiled as the civilians were all able to flee to safety.
Hundreds, and then thousands of furry faces rushed toward him. A cloud of dust arose as the cobblestone disappeared under a wave of grey and black fur.
In the middle of the chaos, Weida was perfectly calm. He set his emotions aside and sought the energy deep within him, channeling it into his outstretched palm. A blue light began to emanate as the distance between him and the angry horde grew ever smaller.
As the first of the raccoons reached him, he sprang into action. He coiled the muscles in his legs and shot into a backflip as a tiny ball of energy shot frm his palm. The ball morphed into the shape of a bee and intercepted the raccoon with its stinger outstretched. As the collided, the stinger detached and injected into the heart of the beast. The energy immediately began to return to Weida as the raccoon collapsed, and then exploded with a brilliant blue light. The light washed over the other raccoons nearby, and they dissolved into nothingness.
As Weida landed, he broke into a sprint away from the encroaching horde. more energy bees shot from his palm as he ran, and explosions caused the ground to rumble beneath his feet. The raccoons kept coming, and despite his best efforts, they drew ever closer. The enraged hiss of thousands of creatures drowned out the sound of his heart beating in his ears.
As one of the raccoons overtook him, it jumped at him from the right. He dropped his left knee and shot out his right foot, dropping into a spin and bringing his elbow to bear in the raccoon's face. He felt the sickening crush of bone and brain matter as his appendage connected, and the raccoon went flying away from him with a spray of blood. He used the momentum of the spin to leap out of the way of another leaping beast, landing in a roll and coming to his feet in a sprint as he passed the buildings at the edge of the plaza.
The battle raged through the streets of the city. At every turn, more raccoons would be waiting for him. He'd leap off of walls and over parked cars, smacking angry creatures out of the air. He'd slide under signs and bushes, only to kick his pursuers out of the way. Every so often he'd glance behind him to the ever approaching and seemingly endless horde of raccoons. His bees weren't defeating them quickly enough, and the horde was getting ever closer. At this rate they'd be on him, and then all would be lost.
Weida was getting desperate. He looked frantically at the shops as he fought. There were restaurants and corner stores all along the streets, but nothing that would be useful in defeating the horde. He even saw an LCBO, but while he figured he had earned a drink, this wasn't really the time or place for such things.
And then he realised: alcohol burns.
He directed his palm toward the liquor store and dozens of energy bees shot forth. He gave them a mental command to find the strongest alcohol they could as the glass doors shattered.
He darted down a side street, and the shop was out of sight. He had to buy some time. Minutes passed as he ran through the streets, subtlely directing the horde back toward the liquor store while killing as many as possible with his bees and his appendages, dodging the claws and teeth of his pursuers.
As he turned down a major intersection he saw the telltale glow of his bees carrying bottles from the next block. He lowered his head and sprinted as hard as he could as he issued another mental command to his bees. They stopped flying and started to vibrate.
Heat from the accelerating bees began to heat the bottles they were holding. The air shimmered as warmth spread through the street, and some of the bottles began to glow.
As Weida pass the swarm, the first of the bottles shattered. The rain of liquor burst into flame as it fell, showering teh street behind him in a burning rain. The closest raccoons screeched in pain as it poured over them, causing their fur to alight. One by one, the other bottles began to shatter, covering the whole street in a wall of fire.
Weida focused hard on the energy inside of him as he dug in his heels and skidded to a halt, turning to face the horde as he slowed. He grimaced as he pulled his arms to his chest, the strain of the action threatening to burst the blood vessels in his head.
And then, with a mighty push, he shot a wave of energy toward the flames. As passed through the fire, it too ignited, and the squeals of burning raccoons became deafening as it passed through the street. All four lanes and both sidewalks were covered in a rolling wall of flame that shot down forth, consuming all in its path. The remaining raccoons, as eager as they were to catch their prey, had all clustered into the street, and there was nowhere left to run.
Weida's whole body shook as the wall dissipated. The charred corpses of raccoons lay littered in the street, causing a sickening stench to wash over him. The only sounds were the wind and his heavy breathing.
Once he was sure it was done, he collapsed. It had taken everything he had, but the city -- the whole world -- was safe. He'd done it.
The blue moose had won.
- Weida fighting raccoons to save a hot dog stand
- "And then I realised, ____ burns!"
- The Time Warp
- A winged unicorn fighting a blue moose
- THE BEES
--------------
Weida smiled as the vendor handed him the hot dog. His empty stomach grumbled in anticipation at the sight of it. It had been a very long day, and he hadn't had the chance to eat at all.
In his current state this burnt sausage was practically a luxury.
He licked the saliva and took a deep breath as he raised the hot dog toward his face. He wanted to devour the thing whole, but people were watching, so he thought it best to restrain himself. His hands shook as he struggled to refrain from smashing it into his mouth. The quick pace at which it ascended was far too slow for his liking, and he felt as if an eternity would pass before he'd feel the satisfaction he so desperately sought.
Just as the hot dog was passing his lips, a flash of fur and claws appeared out of nowhere, and suddenly his food was gone. He stood in shock for a moment, unable to understand why he wasn't eating right now. His shock was abruptly broken by the scream of the hot dog vendor as an angry raccoon ripped out his throat.
They were everywhere. Raccoons -- shrouded in rage and splattered with the blood of the plaza's civilians.
Hundreds of hissing beasts began to circle Weida, the last living soul in the area. The shaking of his body intensified as fear was added to hunger. The mixture of sensations was to much for him to handle. He was unable to act, unable to breathe.
Shadows crept into the edges of his vision as the circling beasts drew ever closer. Their leers danced in his fading sight.
And then there was only blackness.
...
Weida let out a groan as consciousness fought for control of his mind. He wasn't exactly sure what had happened, but the faces of hundreds of rabid raccoons was burned into his memory.
Could it have been a dream? Was he dead?
As he opened his eyes, he was met with the gaze of a spectral, blue moose, head tilted at an inquisitive angle.
"Hullo," said the moose.
Yup, thought Weida. Definitely dead.
"How's your head feeling?"
Weida chuckled to himself as he idly rubbed his throbbing temple. "As well as can be expected. I am dead, after all."
The moose met his laugh with one of its own. "You aren't dead, my friend." Its chest puffed up with pride as it continued: "I saved you!"
"Well then. Thanks, I guess." Weida shifted his eyes in discomfort, unsure of how to respond.
He was in a dark, shapeless place. A black void surrounded the pair, illuminated only by the light emanating from the moose's body. The black surface upon which he sat felt like tofu as he slid his hand across it.
"Where am I?"
"That's not really important," replied the moose. "What matters is that you're alive, and so we have a chance."
"A chance at what?"
The moose arched his eyebrow in incredulity. "A chance to win."
Seeing Weida's jaw drop, the moose continued. "Right now, my brother's raccoon army is tearing through the mortal world. For whatever reason, you were at the epicentre of his transdimensional gate, and so you have a unique opportunity to stop him. As you are now, he would crush you without breaking a sweat, but I was able to pull you out before the raccoons could deal their final blow.
"I'm going to train you, make you stronger, so that you can draw on the dimensional energies you've been subjected to and defeat my brother before he destroys your world." The moose reached out and laid a hoof on Weida's shoulder. "You are their only hope."
Weida looked down at the enormous hoof. He felt it. It was real.
With an uncertain swallow he looked back as the moose's face. "So, um... Who are you?"
The moose took it's arm back as it pondered the question. "I'm not entirely sure, to be honest. I've never needed a name before. I have always been, and always will be. How does one label eternity?"
"Right..."
"I'm sorry, I could make a name up if you'd like."
"No, that's okay. It wouldn't make much of a difference..." He sighed as he continued. "And your brother, is he... like you?"
"Yes, and no," came the cryptic reply. "Like me, my brother is eternal. But this form is my own. My brother's shape more closely resembles a pegasus."
"Pegasus?"
"Yes, a pegasus."
Weida's confusion silently prompted an explanation. "It's like a unicorn with wings. In your world they are most prevalent in Greek mythology."
"Why are you so different?"
"We are what we choose to be. I like moose, so I modeled myself after one for the time being. My brother wanted to appear more imposing."
Weida let the silence drag on. The moose waited patiently for him to be ready. He was overwhelmed by what was happening to him. He had never thought of himself as a hero, but this strange being was now telling him that the fate of the whole world rest in his hands. Was he ready for that responsibility?
Ready or not, he thought, I have to do this. There's noone to be brave for me.
Filled with grim resolve, he stood, a new man. Weida raised his clenched fist and looked the moose straight in the eye. "I'm ready. Teach me."
...
Weida shifted his weight as he waited for the moose to begin. They hand been standing like this for several minutes now, with the beast lost in thought and the man waiting patiently for some indication of how to proceed. The silence was becoming increasingly uncomfortable as the seconds passed, but he was too nervous to break it with what was probably a dumb question. He figured that a timeless spirit beast would have his reasons for making him wait.
When the moose opened it's eyes, it seemed shocked to see relief wash over the man before him. After pondering for a moment, its eyes softened empathetically.
"I'm sorry, I forgot how justifiaby impatient mortal creatures can be. I was examining the waves of time to determine how best to proceed."
After a few more moments of awkward silence, Weida cleared his throat. The moose took the queue and continued.
"Well, I've determined that to defeat my brother's army, we must use teh small, rather than the large. I'll teach you how to channel your void energy into many tiny, independent pieces to aid you in your battle. In just a few of your Earth years we should be ready to strike back."
"YEARS!?" The single word was all that he could manage to sneak past the lump in his throat. The matter-of-fact statement hit him with a wall of incredulity.
The moose remained unphased, thouh his head tilted in curiosity. "Of course. While you have a certain advantage, you are still only one man. It will take more than a little doing to get you ready to face my brother and his army. What did you expect?"
Indignant, Weida glared at the moose. "But what about the rest of the world?! What's going to happen to them?"
"Nothing, I expect," shrugged the moose. "They're all dead, after all."
Weida's stomach dropped. "Dead?" He could barely manage to whisper the word. It was as if his whole world had crumbled around him. All of his loved ones, all of his brothers... Nothing would be waiting for him when he returned.
Weida fell to his knees in despair. The sadness of the thought was crushing. Were there walls in this place they would surely be closing around his tortured soul. Deep down, he cursed the moose. He suspected, of course, that his world was in ashes, but somehow not knowing made it easier to deal with.
Ignorance truly was bliss.
The nonchalant voice of the moose brought Weida back to reality. "Sure they are," it said. "My brother is particularly good at this sort of thing. But there's no need to be so dramatic. You're going to stop it, after all."
Weida's eyes shot up to meet those of the moose, a glimmer of hope shining deep in their pupils. "I am?"
The moose sighed. "I suppose I should probably explain a few things before we continue," it said. "First of all, my brother and I are immortal, as I'm sure you have already guessed. Since we've been around for forever, we have some talents that are pretty unique.
"One of my brother's primary talents is control over beings. He's able to enter a non-willful consciousness and replace it with his own. He could theoretically do this thousands, if not millions of times to amass an army, but over time that has proven to be rather ineffective. Instead he takes over a few creatures of a given type that have certain useful characteristics and then he mirrors and merges their existence to create inumerable soldiers with a single mind. It's sort of like breeding, or cloning, but infinitely more complicated and more precise.
"My abilities, on the other hand, revolve more around a deep understanding of time and matter. I am able to read and manipulate waves and energies. It's a much more subtle form of control than that of my brother, but it certainly has its uses.
"Every so often my brother and I engage in what some might call a game, though it's more of a battle of wits. He will cause some form of catastrophe in an arbitrary space, and I must try to stop it from occurring. I usually have to be very careful in how I go about doing this, but by putting you at the epicentre of his event he has made a mistake. If you're willing to learn we should be able to deal with this incident with relative ease."
Weida gave himself a few minutes to consider what he'd heard before picking his jaw up from the floor. He swallowed the lump in his throat before slowly climbing to his feet. "So we can stop this?"
"If you're willing to learn."
Weida clenched his fist and loked the moose dead in the eye.
"Let's do this."
...
Weida smiled as the vendor handed him the hot dog. His empty stomach grumbled in anticipation. He had been waiting for this for a very, very long time.
He sighed quietly as he looked at the sausage. I wish I could eat you, he thought.
He watched the surrounding area carefully with his peripheral vision as he began to raise the hot dog to his mouth. It had only moved a few inches when a flash of movement at the far end of the plaza caught his eye.
They were here.
In a flash, he threw the hot dog into the air in front of him, right in the face of a very surprised raccoon. The beast flew forward, its intended path only slightly upset by the projectile. Weida met it with practiced confidence, catchingit with a sweeping motion and summarily breakng its neck.
One down, he thought.
Screams erupted in the plaza as the horde of raccoons swarmed through the trees. Their attention was focused solely on the man that had slain one of their comrades. Having found the moose's champion, their rampage could wait. Weida smiled as the civilians were all able to flee to safety.
Hundreds, and then thousands of furry faces rushed toward him. A cloud of dust arose as the cobblestone disappeared under a wave of grey and black fur.
In the middle of the chaos, Weida was perfectly calm. He set his emotions aside and sought the energy deep within him, channeling it into his outstretched palm. A blue light began to emanate as the distance between him and the angry horde grew ever smaller.
As the first of the raccoons reached him, he sprang into action. He coiled the muscles in his legs and shot into a backflip as a tiny ball of energy shot frm his palm. The ball morphed into the shape of a bee and intercepted the raccoon with its stinger outstretched. As the collided, the stinger detached and injected into the heart of the beast. The energy immediately began to return to Weida as the raccoon collapsed, and then exploded with a brilliant blue light. The light washed over the other raccoons nearby, and they dissolved into nothingness.
As Weida landed, he broke into a sprint away from the encroaching horde. more energy bees shot from his palm as he ran, and explosions caused the ground to rumble beneath his feet. The raccoons kept coming, and despite his best efforts, they drew ever closer. The enraged hiss of thousands of creatures drowned out the sound of his heart beating in his ears.
As one of the raccoons overtook him, it jumped at him from the right. He dropped his left knee and shot out his right foot, dropping into a spin and bringing his elbow to bear in the raccoon's face. He felt the sickening crush of bone and brain matter as his appendage connected, and the raccoon went flying away from him with a spray of blood. He used the momentum of the spin to leap out of the way of another leaping beast, landing in a roll and coming to his feet in a sprint as he passed the buildings at the edge of the plaza.
The battle raged through the streets of the city. At every turn, more raccoons would be waiting for him. He'd leap off of walls and over parked cars, smacking angry creatures out of the air. He'd slide under signs and bushes, only to kick his pursuers out of the way. Every so often he'd glance behind him to the ever approaching and seemingly endless horde of raccoons. His bees weren't defeating them quickly enough, and the horde was getting ever closer. At this rate they'd be on him, and then all would be lost.
Weida was getting desperate. He looked frantically at the shops as he fought. There were restaurants and corner stores all along the streets, but nothing that would be useful in defeating the horde. He even saw an LCBO, but while he figured he had earned a drink, this wasn't really the time or place for such things.
And then he realised: alcohol burns.
He directed his palm toward the liquor store and dozens of energy bees shot forth. He gave them a mental command to find the strongest alcohol they could as the glass doors shattered.
He darted down a side street, and the shop was out of sight. He had to buy some time. Minutes passed as he ran through the streets, subtlely directing the horde back toward the liquor store while killing as many as possible with his bees and his appendages, dodging the claws and teeth of his pursuers.
As he turned down a major intersection he saw the telltale glow of his bees carrying bottles from the next block. He lowered his head and sprinted as hard as he could as he issued another mental command to his bees. They stopped flying and started to vibrate.
Heat from the accelerating bees began to heat the bottles they were holding. The air shimmered as warmth spread through the street, and some of the bottles began to glow.
As Weida pass the swarm, the first of the bottles shattered. The rain of liquor burst into flame as it fell, showering teh street behind him in a burning rain. The closest raccoons screeched in pain as it poured over them, causing their fur to alight. One by one, the other bottles began to shatter, covering the whole street in a wall of fire.
Weida focused hard on the energy inside of him as he dug in his heels and skidded to a halt, turning to face the horde as he slowed. He grimaced as he pulled his arms to his chest, the strain of the action threatening to burst the blood vessels in his head.
And then, with a mighty push, he shot a wave of energy toward the flames. As passed through the fire, it too ignited, and the squeals of burning raccoons became deafening as it passed through the street. All four lanes and both sidewalks were covered in a rolling wall of flame that shot down forth, consuming all in its path. The remaining raccoons, as eager as they were to catch their prey, had all clustered into the street, and there was nowhere left to run.
Weida's whole body shook as the wall dissipated. The charred corpses of raccoons lay littered in the street, causing a sickening stench to wash over him. The only sounds were the wind and his heavy breathing.
Once he was sure it was done, he collapsed. It had taken everything he had, but the city -- the whole world -- was safe. He'd done it.
The blue moose had won.
Thing 31: Write a recipe for disaster
Originally posted to Facebook on July 18th, 2013.
Preamble:
"I keep changing my mind about what I want to write for this one. My first thought was an actual recipe, in the vein of CinemaSins (e.g. http://bit.ly/12LhvH4), followed by a story about black magic altering a recipe (http://songmeanings.com/songs/view/71740/, based on a german children's story), followed by an original, dark children's story describing how a child is abused and grows up to do evil deeds himself.
Right now I'm hovering on "science gone wrong," which would focus on a mad scientist creating machines with great destructive power. Or possibly a Powerpuff Girls spinoff...
Focus is hard...
Okay, after much deliberation I have decided to stick with the children's story. It would be the first passage of that type which I'll have created, so in the interest of expanding my venues (variety is the spice of life, after all, and spice is very important in recipes), it seems like the best choice.
Let's do this. You'll have to use your imagination a bit, because it's not nearly as good without pictures. Line breaks indicate new pages."
Thing 31: Write a recipe for disaster
Meet Jimmy.
Like all little boys, Jimmy likes to play. His favourite game is soccer.
Jimmy is smiles a lot when he scores a goal!
In school, Jimmy doesn't raise his hand, even if he knows the answer. He prefers to listen.
At lunch time, Jimmy eats his lunch alone. He smiles when he receieves pudding.
Jimmy speaks with the other students on the bus ride home. Jimmy smiles that they are happy.
When Jimmy gets off the bus, his smile goes away. He doesn't need to lie any more.
In reality, Jimmy is very sad.
Jimmy is sad when his mommy cries. His mommy cries a lot.
Jimmy is sad when his sister cries. His sister cries a lot.
Jimmy likes his shirts very much. They hide the bruises he gets when daddy hits him.
One day, Jimmy decided that he didn't want to be sad any more. Instead, Jimmy became very angry.
When daddy hit mommy, Jimmy hit daddy.
Afterward, not even Jimmy's shirts could hide the bruises.
When daddy hit Jimmy's sister, Jimmy hit daddy.
Afterward, Jimmy could barely walk.
That night, Jimmy snuck into mommy and daddy's room with a knife.
Daddy would not be able to hit them any more.
For the first time ever, Jimmy was happy.
Preamble:
"I keep changing my mind about what I want to write for this one. My first thought was an actual recipe, in the vein of CinemaSins (e.g. http://bit.ly/12LhvH4), followed by a story about black magic altering a recipe (http://songmeanings.com/songs/view/71740/, based on a german children's story), followed by an original, dark children's story describing how a child is abused and grows up to do evil deeds himself.
Right now I'm hovering on "science gone wrong," which would focus on a mad scientist creating machines with great destructive power. Or possibly a Powerpuff Girls spinoff...
Focus is hard...
Okay, after much deliberation I have decided to stick with the children's story. It would be the first passage of that type which I'll have created, so in the interest of expanding my venues (variety is the spice of life, after all, and spice is very important in recipes), it seems like the best choice.
Let's do this. You'll have to use your imagination a bit, because it's not nearly as good without pictures. Line breaks indicate new pages."
Thing 31: Write a recipe for disaster
Meet Jimmy.
Like all little boys, Jimmy likes to play. His favourite game is soccer.
Jimmy is smiles a lot when he scores a goal!
In school, Jimmy doesn't raise his hand, even if he knows the answer. He prefers to listen.
At lunch time, Jimmy eats his lunch alone. He smiles when he receieves pudding.
Jimmy speaks with the other students on the bus ride home. Jimmy smiles that they are happy.
When Jimmy gets off the bus, his smile goes away. He doesn't need to lie any more.
In reality, Jimmy is very sad.
Jimmy is sad when his mommy cries. His mommy cries a lot.
Jimmy is sad when his sister cries. His sister cries a lot.
Jimmy likes his shirts very much. They hide the bruises he gets when daddy hits him.
One day, Jimmy decided that he didn't want to be sad any more. Instead, Jimmy became very angry.
When daddy hit mommy, Jimmy hit daddy.
Afterward, not even Jimmy's shirts could hide the bruises.
When daddy hit Jimmy's sister, Jimmy hit daddy.
Afterward, Jimmy could barely walk.
That night, Jimmy snuck into mommy and daddy's room with a knife.
Daddy would not be able to hit them any more.
For the first time ever, Jimmy was happy.
Thing 30: A man jumps from the fortieth storey of a building. As he passes the 28th floor, he hears a phone ring and regrets that he jumped. Why?
Originally posted to Facebook on July 17th, 2013. Normally the next entry would be a story challenge, but as previously mentioned I messed up the numbering, so this was Thing 29. Regardless, I'm very happy with how this one turned out.
Preamble:
"Is it just me, or are these getting more complicated? Anyway, on to the story...
Note: According to my calculations (http://www.ambrsoft.com/CalcPhysics/acceleration/acceleration.htm), it would take about 4.95 seconds to reach the ground from the fortieth storey, with about 2.24 seconds of that time spanning the 28th floor and below. 2 seconds isn't a lot of time for regret."
Thing 30: A man jumps from the fortieth storey of a building. As he passes the 28th floor, he hears a phone ring and regrets that he jumped. Why?
A shiver ran down Marlon's spine as he gazed over the edge of the building. It was as high as he'd ever been, and the coldness of the air was shocking.
"How fitting," he thought, "that this cold is the last thing I'll feel."
He took a moment to let the sensation fully wash over him. He felt every follicle of hair raise as goosebumps appeared on his flesh; felt the tingling chill swimming through his blood. It was a frigid reality that he wanted to clearly remember as he met his end. It was a harsh reminder that the world was a cold, unfeeling place, and the numbness of his extremities was beginning to match that of his soul.
He took his phone from his pocket and let his steely gaze rest upon its screen. The device was as calm as he was. There were no calls, no messages, no notifications. It had a certain cathartic finality to it, reinforcing his belief that he was all alone.
He felt the slightest pang of pain stab his heart as he was reminded that she was not with him.
Marlon's brow tightened to a grimace as he stepped onto the roof's lip. His slow exhale filled the chill air with a soft cloud, causing a mist to obscure the screen of the phone still held before him. His thumb moved slowly, deliberately across the screen, wiping the mist away.
He silently counted the seconds in his mind, his eyes never leaving the screen. The phone sat quietly in his palm, having nothing to say despite the burning in Marlon's empty lungs. Each second fueled its growing smugness; its self-satisfied assertion that it was indifferent to its owner's plight. His anger deepened as the count increased, and he let it consume him. He focused his will onto the phone until his rage burned more fiercely than his starved lungs.
When he could take it no longer, he released it all at once. Through gritted teeth frigid air assaulted throat, the breath sending all of his senses into relieved disarray. He used the sudden intake to fuel his courage, and soon he was weightless, careening ever faster toward the unforgiving ground below.
Now it was just him and gravity.
He saw the stark visage of the clock of fate in his mind, and allowed its hands to take a single step closer to midnight.
Here, at 11:56, he shed his guilt. In this infinite space he let those he had wronged fade into obscurity. No longer would they haunt him. No longer would he be held accountable. There would be no justice save for that waged by fate itself.
Another step.
Here, at 11:57, he shed his happiness. Pleasant memories were meaningless here. There was no joy in punishment, no hope. The light had faded from his life a long time ago, and with the end so close it was only right that his gladness be properly laid to rest.
Another step.
Here, at 11:58, he shed his regret. All he had done, and failed to do, was tied to a past that no longer mattered. All that remained was the inevitability of what was to come.
As the hand groaned toward the next notch, the unthinkable occurred.
His phone rang.
Here, at 11:59, the simple chime echoed throughout his skull. Her name appeared on the screen, and the sight of it consumed what was left of his tired mind. All that remained was the name, and the chime. Tears were ripped from the corners of his eyes by the rushing air around him, leaving cold trails of anguish in the space before him.
Never again would he hear her voice, or see her smile, or feel comfort in her presence. Never again would her eyes pierce his. Never again would her warmth give meaning to his life.
His eyes closed as the clock struck midnight.
Preamble:
"Is it just me, or are these getting more complicated? Anyway, on to the story...
Note: According to my calculations (http://www.ambrsoft.com/CalcPhysics/acceleration/acceleration.htm), it would take about 4.95 seconds to reach the ground from the fortieth storey, with about 2.24 seconds of that time spanning the 28th floor and below. 2 seconds isn't a lot of time for regret."
Thing 30: A man jumps from the fortieth storey of a building. As he passes the 28th floor, he hears a phone ring and regrets that he jumped. Why?
A shiver ran down Marlon's spine as he gazed over the edge of the building. It was as high as he'd ever been, and the coldness of the air was shocking.
"How fitting," he thought, "that this cold is the last thing I'll feel."
He took a moment to let the sensation fully wash over him. He felt every follicle of hair raise as goosebumps appeared on his flesh; felt the tingling chill swimming through his blood. It was a frigid reality that he wanted to clearly remember as he met his end. It was a harsh reminder that the world was a cold, unfeeling place, and the numbness of his extremities was beginning to match that of his soul.
He took his phone from his pocket and let his steely gaze rest upon its screen. The device was as calm as he was. There were no calls, no messages, no notifications. It had a certain cathartic finality to it, reinforcing his belief that he was all alone.
He felt the slightest pang of pain stab his heart as he was reminded that she was not with him.
Marlon's brow tightened to a grimace as he stepped onto the roof's lip. His slow exhale filled the chill air with a soft cloud, causing a mist to obscure the screen of the phone still held before him. His thumb moved slowly, deliberately across the screen, wiping the mist away.
He silently counted the seconds in his mind, his eyes never leaving the screen. The phone sat quietly in his palm, having nothing to say despite the burning in Marlon's empty lungs. Each second fueled its growing smugness; its self-satisfied assertion that it was indifferent to its owner's plight. His anger deepened as the count increased, and he let it consume him. He focused his will onto the phone until his rage burned more fiercely than his starved lungs.
When he could take it no longer, he released it all at once. Through gritted teeth frigid air assaulted throat, the breath sending all of his senses into relieved disarray. He used the sudden intake to fuel his courage, and soon he was weightless, careening ever faster toward the unforgiving ground below.
Now it was just him and gravity.
He saw the stark visage of the clock of fate in his mind, and allowed its hands to take a single step closer to midnight.
Here, at 11:56, he shed his guilt. In this infinite space he let those he had wronged fade into obscurity. No longer would they haunt him. No longer would he be held accountable. There would be no justice save for that waged by fate itself.
Another step.
Here, at 11:57, he shed his happiness. Pleasant memories were meaningless here. There was no joy in punishment, no hope. The light had faded from his life a long time ago, and with the end so close it was only right that his gladness be properly laid to rest.
Another step.
Here, at 11:58, he shed his regret. All he had done, and failed to do, was tied to a past that no longer mattered. All that remained was the inevitability of what was to come.
As the hand groaned toward the next notch, the unthinkable occurred.
His phone rang.
Here, at 11:59, the simple chime echoed throughout his skull. Her name appeared on the screen, and the sight of it consumed what was left of his tired mind. All that remained was the name, and the chime. Tears were ripped from the corners of his eyes by the rushing air around him, leaving cold trails of anguish in the space before him.
Never again would he hear her voice, or see her smile, or feel comfort in her presence. Never again would her eyes pierce his. Never again would her warmth give meaning to his life.
His eyes closed as the clock struck midnight.
Thing 29: Describe five memories -- events you know really well. Then take one of them further.
Originally posted to Facebook on July 15th, 2013. There's only a preamble to this one.
Thing 29: Describe five memories -- events you know really well. Then take one of them further.
Preamble:
"Geeze, that's a tough one...
It's actually particularly difficult for me because a lot of the memories that I can recall most vividly are most likely fabricated. I have a remarkably stark imagination, and as a weak-minded child I often imagined events and convinced myself they were quite real.
These days, rather than perceive imagined events as real, I embrace my dreams, and carefully craft them into sagas. I'm rather adept at giving my dreams direction, and so I cultivate them. This makes those memories quite precious, but it does distance my mind somewhat from reality. I have difficulty retaining specifics of happenings in my life, and instead I remember emotions.
In any case, I'm going to skip this one as well. I hope this isn't too much of a disappointment."
Thing 29: Describe five memories -- events you know really well. Then take one of them further.
Preamble:
"Geeze, that's a tough one...
It's actually particularly difficult for me because a lot of the memories that I can recall most vividly are most likely fabricated. I have a remarkably stark imagination, and as a weak-minded child I often imagined events and convinced myself they were quite real.
These days, rather than perceive imagined events as real, I embrace my dreams, and carefully craft them into sagas. I'm rather adept at giving my dreams direction, and so I cultivate them. This makes those memories quite precious, but it does distance my mind somewhat from reality. I have difficulty retaining specifics of happenings in my life, and instead I remember emotions.
In any case, I'm going to skip this one as well. I hope this isn't too much of a disappointment."
Thing 28: The meanest thing anyone has ever said to you
Originally posted to Facebook on July 14th, 2013. This one was pretty short.
Thing 28: The meanest thing anyone has ever said to you
I don't really keep a personal log of insults lodged against me over the years, so personally I've no idea. Words themselves don't really stick to me. Rather, the emotions behind those words stick, and so I can describe the feeling, but not the content of a particular slight.
If we approach this from a different angle, and examine the meanest thing anyone has ever said, period, I think Douglas Adams has already covered the crux of it.
The meanest thing anyone has ever said, is the answer to life, the universe, and everything. An answer which was sought by many but of use to none:
42.
Thing 28: The meanest thing anyone has ever said to you
I don't really keep a personal log of insults lodged against me over the years, so personally I've no idea. Words themselves don't really stick to me. Rather, the emotions behind those words stick, and so I can describe the feeling, but not the content of a particular slight.
If we approach this from a different angle, and examine the meanest thing anyone has ever said, period, I think Douglas Adams has already covered the crux of it.
The meanest thing anyone has ever said, is the answer to life, the universe, and everything. An answer which was sought by many but of use to none:
42.
Thing 27: A sneeze
Originally posted to Facebook on July 11th, 2013. As always I was trying to do something really unique.
Thing 27: A sneeze
Men, this mission is of the utmost importance. As I'm sure you're all well aware, we're losing this war. Every day the host's immune system brings us closer and closer to our very extinction. We've fought a good fight, but it's time that we found a new home.
We are charged with finding that home. At precisely 1730 hours HQ will initiate the expulsion protocol. At this time, we will be jettisoned from the host and must find a new host.
We are the forerunners; the elite. It falls on our shoulders to build a new home and ensure the survival of our people. We are walking the line between prosperity, and utter annihilation.
I tip my mitochondria to you, those brave soldiers who have agreed to undertake this dangerous mission. May the infection spread through you all, and I'll see you in paradise.
Thing 27: A sneeze
Men, this mission is of the utmost importance. As I'm sure you're all well aware, we're losing this war. Every day the host's immune system brings us closer and closer to our very extinction. We've fought a good fight, but it's time that we found a new home.
We are charged with finding that home. At precisely 1730 hours HQ will initiate the expulsion protocol. At this time, we will be jettisoned from the host and must find a new host.
We are the forerunners; the elite. It falls on our shoulders to build a new home and ensure the survival of our people. We are walking the line between prosperity, and utter annihilation.
I tip my mitochondria to you, those brave soldiers who have agreed to undertake this dangerous mission. May the infection spread through you all, and I'll see you in paradise.
Thing 26: Something you found
Originally posted to Facebook on July 8th, 2013. I'm not entirely pleased with the concept, but the writing's okay.
Thing 26: Something you found
Doctor Frankfurt's eyes glowed brighter than his lamp as he softly brushed the dust off of the small box before him. While his entire body shook with anticipation, his hands were perfectly steady. Each measured stroke of his brush revealed even more of the glinting gold beneath thousands of years of neglect.
It was more beautiful than he could imagine. The thing was priceless, to be sure, but it represented the culmination of his entire career's work, and to him that was far more valuable.
He held his breath as he licked his lips, lest any of the moisture escape and contaminate his prize. After all of this time, after all of this effort, he would be damned if anything were to come between him and his glory. Dust filled the air, pushed aside by the careful strokes of his archaeologist's brush.
His diligence was rewarded as a handle emerged from the grit on either side of the box. He let his hands glide gently over the surface of his before grasping them in a firm grip. The ancient tomb melted away, leaving nothing but the man and his prize. Seconds, and then minutes passed as he held his treasure; felt the realness of it. He could see nothing else. His tired muscles, the stuffy, dry air -- all meaningless and distant entities hiding deep within his subconscious. The tension in his arms steadily increased as he gingerly began to lift the golden box. His unblinking eyes glistened impatiently at the slow ascent, but he dared not take any chances.
So enchanted was he by the action that he didn't even hear the click.
Thing 26: Something you found
Doctor Frankfurt's eyes glowed brighter than his lamp as he softly brushed the dust off of the small box before him. While his entire body shook with anticipation, his hands were perfectly steady. Each measured stroke of his brush revealed even more of the glinting gold beneath thousands of years of neglect.
It was more beautiful than he could imagine. The thing was priceless, to be sure, but it represented the culmination of his entire career's work, and to him that was far more valuable.
He held his breath as he licked his lips, lest any of the moisture escape and contaminate his prize. After all of this time, after all of this effort, he would be damned if anything were to come between him and his glory. Dust filled the air, pushed aside by the careful strokes of his archaeologist's brush.
His diligence was rewarded as a handle emerged from the grit on either side of the box. He let his hands glide gently over the surface of his before grasping them in a firm grip. The ancient tomb melted away, leaving nothing but the man and his prize. Seconds, and then minutes passed as he held his treasure; felt the realness of it. He could see nothing else. His tired muscles, the stuffy, dry air -- all meaningless and distant entities hiding deep within his subconscious. The tension in his arms steadily increased as he gingerly began to lift the golden box. His unblinking eyes glistened impatiently at the slow ascent, but he dared not take any chances.
So enchanted was he by the action that he didn't even hear the click.
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