We are into Chapter 3 of our flash fiction writing. No Plan. No Outline. Shooting straight from the hip. Who knows where we will go this week. Let’s see what happens!

A link to the main page will come soon. Until then, here are the links to:

Chapter 1.

Chapter 2.

“Sanchez, look out!”

Lt rushed to push me out of the way, however I was already several meters away from the fire cone. It was after the cone passed by us. The monster escaped the fire, more like walked through it. Nothing phased it. A mixture of a dog and some sort of werewolf, and not the kind they like to sterilized on cable tv.

No, this monster, gnawing black teeth, a howl that pierced the sky and the only thing between us and it was the vehicles. The hand tail, with the over exaggerated version of a cartoon hand at the end of it slapped the ground repetitively. A thing of nightmares, and something none of us in the squad was prepared for.

“Open fire!”

Rounds left my weapon, and I dropped to a kneeling position for better aim. Tracer rounds lashed out at its target. Each one penetrating the beast. Each one… missing.

The beast refused to make a move. It slapped its tail on the ground several times. Why was it not attacking?

The LT held our fire. Our target walked into view. Valtrosta, in her brazen tight red dress and exotic hairdo, coupled with a white overcoat and red heels that one could not even pretend the ground wasn’t kind to her.

“Well, it seems that the lucky 8 tends to shoot fire and ask questions later. The gung-ho of every dumb team ever.”

“Valtrosta,” The Lt yelled, “You are hear-by remanded into custody by the World Con in violation of—“

A fire wave barreled at us, stopping the Lt’s charge. I jumped out of the way and opened fire again. A huge portal opened behind the monster dog. A black swirling mass of energy sucking in all the bullets we fired.

“Your team are a bit jumpy Matthews,” Valtrosta said. “It almost sounds like you are not in charge of these haphazard ness of a mess you created.”

“I don’t know what your planning Valtrosta, but we will not say it again. Surrender, or—“

Black swirls surrounded us and the vehicles. Large hand tentacles jettisoned out of the portals. One grabbed Roberts by the leg. He didn’t have a chance to scream.

“What is going on?”

“You are out of your element Matthews,” Valtrosta said. “I am sure your team will make good subjects for my new project. But for now, please take the nightmare of your defeat!”

More tentacles pushed out of the portals taking Dante and Burrows. I fired at the tentacles but the hand pulled them both in. Michaels grabbed and me and tossed me in the drivers seat of the humvee.

“No stop, I can fight!”

“Shut up Sanchez! Get out of here!” Michaels jammed the door handle with his weapon. He pulled out his knife and rushed the monster. And he was gone.

The door wouldn’t budge. I rammed my shoulder into it. The shock rattled my left side. I turned my head to my rear seat. The hunkered spore-beast rabbit curled up into the seat crying. The beasts roared taking my attention again.

Hopping to the passenger seat, I kicked the door opened and leaped out. One of the tentacles ejected out of the portal and wrapped around Gordi. Even for a large spore-bear, his strength could not break free and he was dragged toward the portals.

I rushed forward with my knife, leaping and stabbing the white part of the hand to the ground. Gordi used his fire magic to burn the tips releasing him.

“Sanchez, the child!” Gordi yelled.

Turning my attention back to the vehicle, the large black dog snarled and chewed the door apart exposing the child. She screamed and scurried inside the humvee dodging the venom’s dripping teeth.

I yanked the door open and dove in to stab the beast, only to miss and hit the seat. The young rabbit jumped onto my back and dug its claws into my vest. I retreated, and the black tail whiplashed my knife out of my hand and wrapped around my arm. It pulled me forward through the vehicle.

Digging my foot underneath the driver’s seat, it yanked and pulled me out with its teach gnawing on my shoulder drawing blood through the vest. The agony of the bite drew me delirious with my arm nearly tearing out of my socket. I wasn’t going to last much longer.

My sight waned, but in front of the vehicle, the LT fell, overwhelmed by the tentacles.

My chest fell into my stomach. This couldn’t be happening. The memory of my sister fell into view, the claws of the Spore-beast child clung to me. What was this. How did this happen?

An explosion rocked the cab of the truck. The pressure of the tentacle around my arm lessoned. The connection to the beast was gone. But so was the ground.

The vehicle flew into the air, tumbling over and over into the sky making me dizzy with the sun flying around me. I reached around and grabbed the Spore-Beast and held her tight. A loud crunch from the vehicle hitting the ground, a sharp crack in my ankle and the nothing but tormentors pain.

The yelling stopped, and the smoke from the fire stung into my eyes. My head pounded against the metal. We rolled into the trees slamming against the bark with branches and leaves falling everywhere.

The rollercoaster stopped its movement. The child cried into my ears. I released her, checking for injuries along her frail body. None found. Good.

“Are you ok?” I asked the girl. She made no reply, only a slight whimper between crying spurts.

The Humvee was upside down, and my leg was trapped under the driver’s seat. I dangled like a fish and the movement only drew more sharp needles into my head.

My weapon was gone, so was the knife i loved so much. The roars continued, but much further away than before. “Child, I need you to run. Get away from here now!”

The child stared at me, her, rabbit ears folded back. Did she understand me? Even if she did, would she even listen?

I made another attempt to move my leg. If it wasn’t for the immense pain, I could give it a bit more force. It is definitely broken, and even if I did manage to get free, I wouldn’t get far. I reached for the radio com that dangled in the air. Trapped like myself, my eyes trailed to sparks gutted from the wires.

A horrible situation.

The red eyes of a beast snarled in front of me. The child huddled behind me. And the snarls of its teeth made it worse.

A link to Chapter 1 can be found here.

Chapter 2:

They poured out of the woodwork so to speak. Hundreds of Spore-Beast Children scattered out of the forest, and it was apparent why.

Smoke rose from the woods. The wind shifted sending the billowing haze toward our direction. We hopped out of the vehicles and maintained a perimeter.

They were children, I tell ya. Small animal hybrids of human and beast. One small Spore-Rabbit girl approached me crying. I unwrapped my scarf and placed it over her mouth to keep the smoke from choking her out.

“Fire. Spirit,” the girl said. I lifted her up into the truck.

A loud rancid sound from the forest drove goosebumps into my skin.

“What was that?” Tech-Sergeant Burrows said taking position in front of the humvee.

Lieutenant Matthews stood in front and raised his weapon. “Devonte, Michaels. Get those children out of here. Sanchez, Dante, take point. We found our target. Gordi, Port City did not mention a fire spirit.”

Gordi, a Spore-Bear of incredible size, raised his necklace from his chest. The crystals inbeded in the rope turned blood red and it dripped like venom onto the rocky dirt. “The Summoning is too late. The Elemental Spirit is rogue. We have no choice but to destroy it.”

The LT shifted his weapon. “Destroy it. That wasn’t our orders. We are to contain the threat and bring back for study.”

“By all means, visitor,” Gordi replied. “You can most certaintly try to keep your mission. But you will lose more than what you gain.”

A small hesitation, followed by another roar in the forest. The LT knelt beside Devonte who held the his weapon from one empty target to another. He grabbed the communicator from his backpack and tapped him on the shoulder before turning it on. “Covenant 6, Force 8.”

A chirp replied. “Covenant 6.”

“Objective change. Fire Elemental on sight. Proceed on trajectory?”

Static. Followed by another roar in the forest to answer the LT.

“Negative,” a new voice on the communicator. Sounds like Colonel Ray. “You are not equipped to handle a Fire Elemental. We are sending Resonance Crystals to your position. Once the threat is neutralized, continue toward your target. Then find that bastard.”

“Understood. Force 8 out.” The LT returned the comm back to Devonte.

“Hey,” Dante said standing next to me. His heat licked my skin causing me to sweat. “How big do you think it is?”

“Who knows,” I replied. “Probably no bigger than these children. What are they doing here?”

“I dont know bud,” Dante replied. “But it got them running for cover and this smoke is starting to cloud the area.” He turned to the LT. “LT, do you think we can stay here any longer with this smoke. I can’t see a damn thing.”

“Jeezus Corporal you whine too much.”

Michaels tied a bandana around his nose and mouth. “He has a point boss, the fire is getting worse there. How long before the supply drop?”

“I know,” LT replied. “Devonte, let them know we are changing positions—“ he checked his coordinates, “35 points north, around the base of that forest wall. Let’s pray that smoke doesn’t shift. Everybody, back in, we move out.”

The team poured into the vehicles. I opened my door and in my seat was the small Spore-Rabbit huddled looking out the plastic window. LT jumped in his seat, turned to the child. “Sanchez, quit playing and get that child out of the vehicle.”

“Come on friend, you can’t stay there,” I said to the girl. She raised her hand producing a greenish glow swirling from her paw. A force of wind blew me back onto the ground.

Devonte raised his weapon and Gordi pushed it back down. “Stop, she is favored by the Spirits. Do not harm or touch this child.”

“What the—“ LT replied. “Fine, either you carry her but we have to move before the—cough…” The smoke poured through the vents. “Let’s go!”

I made a second attempt to hop into the vehicle. She raised her paw again but this time I pushed her hand up, grabbed her around the waist and jumped into the seat. She squirmed but I held her tight. Devonte floored the petal and we pulled out of the smoke.

We traveled for ten minutes, half of them through the dark orange clouds. The girl calmed down after the smoke cleared and we were on the far side of the forest wall. The fire raged harder from this position. Whatever caused it was deep inside pushing animals and birds out of the area.

Devonte pointed his weapon into the forest. Each vehicle lined up next to each other, and what he saw before all of us did challenged my nerves.

A large raging fire tornado, with arms and a twister of fire wind for its body. It moved slowly through the area, the loud roars increased, breaking trees and carving a path of destruction.

Behind it, our target. Sabercon’s Victoria. The woman that brought one of our cells to their knees with her maniacal experiments.

LT grabbed the radio, “Covenant 6, Force 8. Eyes on target. Engaging—“

He didnt finish that statement. In all honesty, I wouldn’t have either. A huge circle of flame coned out in our direction.

“Get down!”

-Kevin

Standpoint

by cronox2001 on January 4, 2009. ©

The sun began to set on the horizon when I looked across from the beach, noticing the most beautiful scene I had ever imagined. The edge of the cliff was amazing, even with the clouds scattered in the background. From the car on the way over, it seemed like I never thought I would ever see the sun settle in the distance ever again. Heck, from my standpoint, just knowing I have a few more hours left tells me that maybe I have just enough time to change my path.

I ended up driving sixty more miles in the beat-up Corolla to a small town out in central Tennessee. I know I was making a terrible decision heading out so far; however, I did not have a choice in the matter. I pulled off the exit to a town called Rochester. From the highway passing through the Rockies, this town should be able to give me enough space to finish what they started. Of course, I would have been done with this stupid assignment if they had just given me a few more hours. With the luck not on my side, the plan changed not in my favor.

I pulled up to a Shell gas station just right off the main road. I know my limits, and I trust well-known reputable gas stations when I am in unfamiliar territories. To be on the safe side, however, I felt my side pocket to confirm that my Beretta is still present from the last scuffle, which, by the way, since I am here, I need to find a first aid kit to tend to wounds.

I walked into the service convenient store, hearing the usual chimes. I think I may have struck gold with this stop when a pair of the most beautiful eyes greeted me when I walked in. For a brief second, I felt comfortable thinking that I may be in a safe environment for once, but that is the trouble with silver linings; you always get clouds in them. I moved to the back of the store to grab the first soda I could find. I did not have much time; every step is wasted time, and I could be trying to achieve my mission.

Near the counter, I glanced down at the local papers; one of them struck my curiosity. On the front page of one of the stacks, there was a headline in bold letters: ‘Power, Corruption at War’. I was right; it was not long before they caught up to me to finish what I started.

I tossed the soda on the counter along with a candy bar. “Hey, how ya doin’,” I said to the woman. She gave me a look, then over out into the window. “I also need twenty on five.”

She tapped at the cash register to input the transactions, but for some reason, she never took her eyes off the window. I must not have noticed it then, but now that I am recording this, I should have seen it coming. “Is there anything else for you?” She asked.

“No, that will be all,” I replied. I laid some money on the counter when I took my stuff and headed out of the store.

After fueling, I turned to look back at the store. The woman at the register continued to look outside the window. I do not remember her ever turning her head even for a second in any other direction.

“Now is not the time to be noticing the weird locals,” I thought to myself. Just then, a smell of sulfur pierced my nostrils. I knew then that I had spent too long at this stop. I sped away, managing to get back onto the highway and picking up as much speed as possible, weaving in and out of traffic.

My thoughts jumped back to when this all came about. You see, I work for the largest Nuclear Waste Corporation in America. Of course, that was just a front to cover for the better-known, elusive dealings under the table that the Corporation was involved in. Organized Crime... no problem; coke and heroin smuggling... no problem; Human trafficking, too easy for these people. My job was rather simple: to keep the crap from spilling out into the public. Although the job did not require a whole lot of talent, I was damn good at keeping things under wraps.

Well, the reason why I am running is that eighteen hours ago, the Corporation involved itself in so high explosive chemicals. Much as I would like to go into details, the factory where they manufactured it went haywire, releasing the chemicals into the air. To this day, I still do not know why they wanted an airborne virus; heck, it seems like the staple for any terrorist attack, which is why, when this ‘mishap’ got loose, they turned to me to keep it concealed before mass panic ensued.

I knew from the moment I started witnessing the atrocities that it would be easier to hide an elephant behind a scrap of confetti. This ‘virus’ first infected the processing plant and the city surrounding it. The first sign is the sulfur odor that preempts the spread of the virus. From that moment, you have maybe two minutes to run the infection out before your insides catch on fire and you implode like an egg in a microwave.

The lucky ones who found they were immune to the symptoms panicked. Most of them became guinea pigs to the Corporation, while others chose to take a darker road to society. This is the reason why I am on the lam now. It was not until a few hours ago that my contacts turned against me. I was foolish to think that they contracted the virus, but then I knew nothing about the sulfur. I learned the hard way that prolonged exposure leads to madness in the brain, which, as I can say, for that particular time and moment, was one unlucky night.

My mind refocused back onto the road. Already, the virus encompassed half the nation. He knows about how many people are either dead or crazy. Before my contacts died (rather from my hand than the hand of other people, mind you), they did clue me in on this laboratory in East Texas working on an anti-toxin to this virus. What was also interesting was that the Corporation realized how big their folly had been, and now, for some odd reason, they chose to eliminate everyone who knew of this existence. They were ‘wiping their hands clean’ of the accident.

The hairs on the back of my head started to crawl. I felt like someone was watching me. I turned my head to the right to see the same woman who was behind the gas station counter staring at me from another car. Those eyes turned cold and sent shivers down my spine. The weird part was that she never looked at the road ahead of her; she continued to stare right at me.

My instincts told me to speed the car up. Pressing forward with everything I had, the crazy woman in the opposite vehicle matched my speed alongside me. I took out my Beretta and shot a few rounds through the window. She broke pursuit, speeding faster down the road. The woman then plowed through the barrier, causing the car to flip over it, spinning a good two rotations before colliding with an Oil truck blaring down the side of the freeway going in the opposite direction. The impact caused the rig to lose its cargo tank, and with my dumb luck, it was heading right in my direction.

It was then, at the very last moment, that someone moved the goalposts. Two cars in front of me also saw the oil tank; however, before they could react in time, they were the first to collide, throwing the fiasco into a huge explosion. The shock wave because my erratic steering to me losing control when I side-railed the edge of the freeway, saving me from the cliffs and instant death below. What I did not count on was a giant pothole that my tire failed to miss, flipping my car through the barriers.

I almost lost conciseness. My car was teetering halfway between the edge and the road. I was no fool; it was time to get out of the vehicle. I unfastened the seat belt and pushed the car door open. I stepped one foot out when I realized my Beretta was on the floorboard. I reached down to grab it when I saw a car barreling right for me. It was real apparent now that somebody wanted me dead, so I jumped out of the car just as the guy collided, taking him and my car down the cliff, causing another explosion.

Kneeling, I felt nauseous and dizzy. I puked what contents left in my gut and looked back out into the darkness. All it took was a hint of sulfur to fill my lungs once again to pressure my intent on reaching that laboratory.

Looks like I am going to need a faster car.

Ready to find your next favorite story?

The full Library Catalog awaits! Click Here for the Full Library Catalog to explore all The Hollow Sword Master series, Knuckle’s Legacy, and the entire Road to 100 Stories.

Here they are again, adding them to the Library. Enjoy.

Dear You,

As I write this letter, your scent escapes the air, combined with my lingering aftershave, compels me to express my feelings today.

The bed has gone cold, your imprint all but disappeared from it, however I can see your ghostly image in my mind where you slept, the pillow remains untouched, the bed covers still a mess.

As I stare out the window, I see your shadow amongst the crowded streets. You are reading this letter, moments before knocking on the door, anxious to see your friend once again.

The letter reminds you that in this harsh world, a speck of light courses through the cloudy day.

The true spirit of your heart beacons to the one person who you know will be there for you, through your pains, and through your joys.

As I sing myself to sleep, I imagine your voice touching my lips very close. You put words into my mouth, making every syllable about you and how you would say them to me.

I close my eyes, the music of your soul dances in my head.

The afterimages, the memories of you next to me, will provide me with many restless nights wishing you were back in my arms once again.

As I write this letter, days will have passed before you can read this. It may be even more days for you to respond to me.

However, I will be right here, through the rain, through the fog, through the burning summer heat, never forgetting who touched my heart, and never, ever, stop loving you for who you are.

As always, Me

Only You

by cronox2001 on February 14, 2011. ©

When times are distress, my mind wanders about you

The people I digress, my spirit surrounds you

When time is of the essence, my heart beats slowly for you

As people become depress, my soul will comfort you

You will not starve for attention, for I will provide

You will not strive for succession, for you will survive

The day will not end, my time stands still around you

The day will not begin until you approach unbound

So I write to you a note, in effort that you receive

A simple note, one that doesn’t reprieve

It tells a tale of my love so true

To make one’s sake special, which you aim to do

To love you, to hold you

To obey you, to protect you

To kiss your soft lips, the tears I shed away

For I am your one so true, on this special day

Runaway

by cronox2001 on February 11, 2011. ©

“Today!” yelled a man from the not-so-distant parking lot.

Arathorne struggled to maintain his composure from the sudden burst of noise.

The snow continued to fall in the open-spaced garage, pressuring Arathorne to use strength to heave his boots from the already 3 inches of thick coating. He paused for a minute to listen as the noise continued.

“Listen, B***h,” this time the voice crept closer, “Hurry up and toss your shit in the truck, I don’t have time to play with your broke ass.”

“Quit yelling at me!” a voice replied back, this one female with a high-pitched squeal at the end of it.

Arathorne turned and stared across the parking lot.

In the distant blaring snowfall, he saw three people next to the back of several far-end cars. The snow started to fall again at a constant rate. He knew that the last time he got involved with completely random crap, he nearly drowned.

That was then, he thought, and now, walking at a brisk pace toward his car, he tried to ignore the yelling that wouldn’t cease. His four-door blue Escape was coated with snow everywhere.

He cursed himself for talking so long in his office, knowing how bad it was getting outside. He thought it couldn’t be helped, and now his fingers and paying the price as he stared at his gloves on the seat.

He reached for the door lock, and when he clicked his remote, a loud gunfire rang throughout the parking lot. Arathorne sharply turned his head and saw a young woman hobbling through the snow.

She was wearing no winter clothes and gave the appearance of a Southern California girl. The only thing distracting from her looks was the bright red spot dripping from her leg. Arathorne is a Texan man, hailing from the far eastern corner of Texarkana.

All he knows is to see a lass who needs help, is to drop everything and help that lady out. Of course, that’s what got him 10 feet under in a swimming pool. Arathorne’s pride left him to forget that distinct moment, and he ran over to help her out. “Ma’am, are you ok?” he yelled out. Arathorne started to kick snow from underneath him.

The lady walked a few more steps, then stopped and dropped to her knees. “Sir, you can help… me…” she said with her voice trailing in the wind.

Arathorne walked a bit closer to see that blood splatter coated all over her clothes. Another sudden instinct to turn around faded away from him. “Ma’am, you seem to be hurt. Let me help you up,” Arathorne replied.

However, as he reached down closer to her, she looked up, pulled a gun from her back and pointed it straight at him. “You can start by giving me your car keys, and then…” she said, helping herself up.

Arathorne realized the blood was not hers.

“You can quit calling me Ma’am.”

The next thing Arathorne felt was a hard jab to the back of his head. The third person, Arathorne, remembered, and he fell to the ground unconscious.

“Yes,” was Arathorne’s last thought before drifting away, “next time follow your instincts.”

Darkness rules the night.

The moon weeps in vain, knowing it sheds the tears of the sun.

Chaos erupts in the mind, fighting is all you know.

When the vanes of time blow in the opposite direction, the force of change scars the eternal memory of your wicked soul.

The power fades into black, and muscle memory turns into excruciating torture.

Your soul is demented with the thoughts of amenity.

Not a phase of sadness that creeps into your head.

This is the wall of years of suffering you bottled up, refusing and lying to yourself that it does not exist.

Every minute your breaths become heavier, misspoken words echo out into the world, repeating a fate you were doom to face long ago.

Running will do you no honor, and standing your ground provides no compassion.

You are alone, left to wallow in the guilt of those you left to suffer.

Karma is a bitch, and it is time to pay your dues.

Awaken, for you are not prepared.

Do not be afraid.

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The moment I pulled into the parkway, the exhilarating smell of the sea calmed my mind after an intense day at work. The humid air attempted to wash my skin of the negative vibes I had been carrying a few hours ago. I must admit, taking ten minutes to lie on the hood of my car, taking in the fresh air, was God’s godsend. The breeze swayed my hair back and forth, giving my body a slight chill around my arms.

With the sun to my back, settling to the east, I jumped out of my car and walked down a flight of steps to the beach. Once past the rocks and into the loose sand, I kicked my socks and shoes off to let my bare feet touch the rich earth. I took a few steps closer. The sand gave way to my steps, making room for me and keeping me stable at the same time. I was walking on air with every step that I took, closer to the water.

By now, the waves crashed against the shoreline, replacing the sounds of the city with the constant awe of the sea. They say that if you pick up a seashell, you can hear the ocean in it. Well, for one, I can tell you that the seashell has nothing compared to being here, watching the seagulls dance across the waves, and hearing the sounds of the world of an ocean yet to be explored.

Tiny legs were crawling across my left foot when I looked down, and a little crab was scurrying about, trying to get to its destination. I bent over and laid my hand on the ground, anticipating he would go across it, and when he did, I raised him, letting him cross my arm. Fear of getting him upset, I sat him back down on the sand. With one knee, I looked across the water, enjoying the view, taking in the sea.

Happy Halloween from Mira and Chester. Today, we’re examining a special story for the season...

Transgressions

And so I opened the door, and there, standing watching me, was an image of a little girl.

This girl was pale and translucent.

She was wearing what looked like a cotton dress. She stared at me, silently pointing to the stairwell down the apartment landing.

Looking in that direction, I could not recognize what she was pointing to.

Heck, I figured she was pointing in the plain air.

I was going to ask her if she was lost, but all in all, she disappeared.

I just thought I was tired and must be imagining things, but it wasn’t my imagination when my doorbell rang that loud; it woke me up.

I sat back on my couch.

The television was displaying white noise; the station must have gone off the air, perhaps.

I clicked off the TV, and again on the screen was the same girl, pointing toward my door right there on the TV screen.

I clicked the TV on again, back to the white noise scrambling on the screen. I mustered enough bravery to click the TV off and nothing… I must be seeing things.

I figured I would head up and into bed. It was really early in the morning, roughly a quarter to two, and even though it was a weekend night, I usually don’t stay awake past midnight.

After using the restroom, I started to wash my hands… and sprayed some water into my face.

When I looked into the mirror, I noticed my tired eyes, but a wave of coldness shot through my skin. In the mirror, at the window pane, the image of the girl was pointing out my bathroom.

I turned my head quickly to see if she was still there.

No, nothing.

Nothing but the wind howling through the cracks.

I looked in the mirror, and there she was, just pointing at the bedroom.

“Hello? What is your name?” I asked. I figured as much. I wouldn’t get a reply. Heck, I’ve seen my share of scary movies to know that they never reply to you.

The image disappeared, and I grabbed a towel off the rack, wiped my face and headed into the bedroom. That was the same night I couldn’t sleep.

I tried counting sheep, but her image replaced the heads of the sheep I counted.

I tried imagining a waterfall, but all I got was a blood lake with the image of the girl creeping out of it.

I looked at my clock, almost 4am.

I haven’t been sleeping yet, and I’m not yawning. I don’t know what is wrong with me; maybe some warm milk or something could put me out.

I walked into the kitchen, hearing faint noises of footsteps behind me, but I didn’t care; I was too tired and too upset to worry about it. I do feel weird, I feel lighter on my feet, sigh, I must be dreaming.

I opened up the fridge and pulled out the milk, grabbed a glass, and realized it was already warm. I must have warmed it up already.

I took a swallow and all I tasted was curds and spoil substance. I gagged and threw it up into the sink.

When I turned around, I saw the milk, it was warm cause it was spoiled. My fridge must have gone out.

I washed my mouth out with water when I got cold chills again. Behind me was the same girl, pointing toward the living room.

I looked over to where she was pointing and reluctantly followed her footsteps. The door opened, and I slowly walked out, feeling the wind blowing across my wet face. I looked down at the railing; she was at the bottom of the apartment stairs, this time not pointing at all, when I felt a tug, a slight push in the wind.

I must have lost my balance, I fell down the stairs, tumbling toward the girl, and then she smiled.

She bore a smile so rancid it felt like she was the one who pushed me down the stairs.

I woke up in the snow; how much time passed was the least of my worries.

The wind blew across my face, and the darkness covered any explanations. My extremities were not there, the biting cold gnawed and every other part of my body.

The girl took my digits, as if it wasn’t really mine to give. Time would tell if walking would be part of my life again.

Time would tell if my words would leave my lips again.

My heart still ticks, strong, powerful than ever.

It was only when the knock on the door stirred me months later of the abuse from the girl.

Months of losing my mind.

Months of losing my soul.

The investigator at the door told me of the heart that I received.

A still beating heart, donated from a prison after the clock turns midnight.

Told me of donor recipients who died in the snow months that passed.

The investigator served as a warning. A warning that arrived too late for others.

A warning that stared at me in my waking dreams.

A warning that wished me to die.

The investigator wished me well.

Wishes that were better served for the girl, too soon, too late.

The door closes upon me, and the face of the little girl stares back at me.

To make amends for a crime I never committed.

But the After Soul does not jury. Only judge.

I serve as a warning to those whose hearts are sinned with the poison of child abuse.

The girl will forever haunt my dreams.

And I will haunt yours.

The Auditors will return to their regular investigations on Monday. Until then, enjoy the spooky season.

—Chester and Mira

The weapons of the Soldiers sounded like cannons shot in my ear. I can hear the white noise talking to me, but I can’t make out what they are saying…

“Ready… set…Fire!”

At the dinner table, she tells me that they get really loud and that you won’t live till you fire one yourself.

“Ready…set…Fire!”

The sounds of the weapons pierce the eardrums, every round goes through my heart, and my tears start to form again.

“Ready…set…Fire!”

Her mother enjoys receiving Emails, and plenty of care packages were on their way to foreign lands in support of our loved one.

“Ready…set…Fire!”

Grandfather always said how we should be proud of our heritage, who we are and what we stand for.

“Ready…set…Fire!”

One more round, one more deafening noise to silence the tears, quiet the screams, passing of the storm.

“Ready…set…Fire!”

And the flag is handed off to me, they told me she didn’t die in vain, she served her country well.

MY WIFE, MY SOLDIER, MY LOVE.

A fragment from the archives. Sometimes the characters need to speak for themselves.

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Ok, that was a lie. This is a raw history of how far I have come. Enjoy the ride. And all the writing sins that came with it! Enjoy!

(Oh boy, Grammarly does not like me right now…)

(Click Click. Click Click.)

I think I am awake. I don’t know really. There is nothing but black space. The clicking sounds echoed in my head like someone with a ballpoint pen clicking it in, clicking it out. I am positive that I am awake. For some reason, I could not force myself to open my eyes. I tried willing myself to move. Just try to do something. Alas, I felt nothing.

(WHO ARE YOU?)

(WHERE ARE YOU GOING?)

* * *

I think I woke up again. If that even is what you call it. I wondered just how much time has passed from these periods of awakenings. Days perhaps. Years even. Heck, maybe I am dead and it does not matter if time passes or not. I try to move again, and the only thing that moves is my thoughts.

* * *

(Click Click. Click Click.)

The clicking noise again. I don’t know, for a minute there, you know, I thought that I heard voices in my mind. Not just my voice, if I even have one but other voices. Maybe they are other thoughts. I don’t know. It was faint, I know it. So I paused, waited, but nothing. Damn. I know I heard voices voices in my mind.

* * *

(Click Click. Click Click.)

(WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?)

(WHEN WILL YOU BE AWAKE?)

Damn, there they are again. I was sure this time. Voices calling out from the darkness. Not to me at least or I do not think, but like mumbles in the black space drowning out my own thoughts in my head.

* * *

(Click Click. Click Click.)

This is crazy talk. The kind where you catch yourself talking to an imaginary person in your head. Even without the clicking sounds going on around me, I try to focus into the dark space in front of me. Something has to show up at least. Anything at this point…

(HOW ARE YOU HERE?)

* * *

(Click Click. Click Click.)

The clicks will not cease. The sound changed a bit, from at first it was sounding like a pen. Now it sounds like constant pendulum balls never finding a stopping point. Why is it that I remember the annoying clicks but not anything else? Does not matter anyways, because I cannot even remember my name.

Maybe I am dead, living in purgatory, if such a place exists. If that was the case then who or what killed me? Should I wonder why somebody would do it? I bet it was old age offed me. Was I ever even born? Who knows for sure? Ugh, too many questions. Just wish something would happen already instead of listening to these damn clicks.

* * *

I don’t believe it. I see it. It’s there. A low, dull luminescent light grows larger in the distant black. Not all at first, just a pinpoint hole. The hole grows bigger, swallowing up the black around it. Distorted images of humanoids appear in the light for the first time. The clicking noises stopped, which I am not sorry for. Garbled noises echoed in the light, like I can hear them underwater. That right there brought relief to my question of being alive. I still cannot tell if I am breathing or not, and I still feel paralyzed. I am forced to watch whatever the light wants me to see. I can’t change the channel, I can’t turn it off. Well at least there is something to break the monotony of where I was. The humanoids disappeared, then view started to fade to darkness.

* * *

(Click Click. Click Click.)

Damn it, there is that noise again. Irritating, yes, but this time it’s with a side of anticipation cause if it was anything like the last time, this will be different. The light envelopes me again, much quicker than before. I realize now that the light is actually a lamp, pointing not directly into my eyes but close enough to not stare at it for long. Accompanying the brightness this time is that I can smell and breathe. I took a deep breath of stale air to fill my lungs. The air did not smell fresh, rather regardless, it was still refreshing enough to be breathing.

I can feel my body move now, the paralysis is giving way to tingling numbness. I adjusted my view away from the light. I must be laying down on a metal rack or bed. Around me are glass bottles and jars, virtual screens along the wall in the background, a couple of digital timers, the kind where the numbers are square and blocked. My sight is better with every focus on another object. A heck of a lot better than the blurriness I had before. I want to sit up and look around, in hopes that I can get a better view of what’s going on around me. I managed to sit up, despite the fact that my abs rejected to the idea. Various long wires that were strapped to my chest popped off, causing a nearby monitor beside my head to sound an alarm of sorts.

I look over to the monitor. It was attached by a long metal arm segmented into three sections to provide different angles. I was half thinking I can find out more information, other half thinking that if I can shut the alarm off. On the top left hand section of the view screen, the word X4982 displayed in black overshadowed the rest of the words below it. The second line read diagnostics readings that I couldn’t make out.

It didn’t take long for me to have company when the door on the other side of the room slid open to the right. Two men wearing white lab coats, rather, they looked like men at first. They looked more like rabbit hybrids when they closed in and grabbing me by the arms. My thoughts told me to defend myself. A surge of rage and heat coursed through my skin. Before I knew what happened, my left arm overpowered one of the hybrid beast as he was trying to secure my arm. I pushed him back with enough force for him to slam against the wall breaking glass jars lined with samples of an unknown origin. The other one punctured my neck with a needle. Paralysis entered my veins again, causing me to fall back onto the metal table. The other hybrid secured my arms, while the other one who became one with the wall stood back up to secure my feet with belt straps.

The door slid open again, this time a third hybrid beast walked in. This guy was larger than the other two, looked more aged as he didn’t walk very fast and he seemed to stagger with a limp. I noticed that he carried features similar to a serpent. His forked tongued darted in and out of his mouth. I tried to talk. I knew what I wanted to say, just nothing came out of my mouth. I didn’t have a voice.

“I told you idiots that the soul would wake up on its own,” the serpent beast said. What surprised me the most was that they spoke the Common Language. He pulled out a small black box with a red button on the side. He pressed the button, then waved it over my body.

“Where am I?” I asked in my mind, hoping they would hear me. They didn’t respond, well to me at least. The two beasts who tied me up walked to the rear wall. They activated a few consoles maneuvering through data across the screen.

“Check his blood rate, see if his neural compositors are working,” the serpent hybrid said.

While the other two beasts worked in the background, the serpent hybrid took a pen light to my pupils. He then pressed against my chest, watching the breathing rise and fall. He tested my arm mobility when a screen behind him switched to a man wearing a black mask, almost resembling a gas mask without the canister. The serpent hybrid turned around then saluted the screen.

“How did this body take to the soul,” the man in the screen said. “His eminence want a report on his new pet.”

“The soul transfer immigration is successful, however, more testing is still required to see the long term effects on this damaged host body,” the serpent hybrid said.

“We do not have time for testing on this subject,” the masked man said.

“Yes, but I still need to monitor his brain activity for abnormal hemorrhaging. This is the first time that we actually have real results after the first…”

“Enough! I have waited too long for this experiment,” the snake like voice replied, “Get him down to the arena tomorrow.” Even through the mask, I could see that his patience was weaning.

“He is not ready, don’t jeopardize this project, on the account of you wanting to make yourself look good,” the snake hybrid said.

“I said get him ready for transport before I toss you into the arena with him for target practice.”

The serpent hybrid gave the man a simple nod, then clicked the screen off. He grabbed a long needle from the table and even though I was numb all over, I still felt the needle puncturing my skin. A wave of tiredness overcame my body and once again, I was out cold.

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This little piece is dated a couple of decades and while it is messy and raw, I managed to clean it up a bit. It may be something… to some, it may be nothing, but here it is, for your enjoyment!

“Let’s go, Maria, hurry up!” Donovan shouted through the barren field. All he knew was that he had to run.

Maria, his older sister, stumbled across a rock, and she fell to her knees. The rocky terrain shredded her hands, bracing the fall. She knew the urgency of the matter. The sudden pain was there, and she knew that she couldn’t let it slow her down. She picked herself back up and started running again.

Out in the distance, Donovan could make out a storm pipe, just like the old man said it would be. His new focused hopes were quickly dismissed by gunfire behind him. A sharp whizzing knocked his left shoulder, immediately dropping him to the ground.

Maria shouted, rushing over to him. “Don, get up!” she yelled to him.

Donovan, now realizing that his death was almost imminent, tapped Maria on the leg, and they both crawled ahead to the storm pipe. The storm pipe turned out to be bigger than both of them expected it to be.

A large grate with a lock was the only barrier to their freedom on the other side. Maria reached into her pocket, pulling a set of keys on a ring, and started to fiddle with the lock. Gunfire opens up again, causing her to drop the key ring from the sudden noise.

“Maria, hurry, we don’t have much time,” Donovan said, pulling out a makeshift map. On the map were several arrows depicted in a pattern. He recited the direction of each arrow in his head, opting for a quick memorization of the trail.

The lock finally broke free from its bond. Donovan grabbed Maria and headed inside. Soon, the darkness overtook the light from behind, forcing Donovan to feel the walls on both sides. The gunfire stopped, only giving them a brief moment of relief when, in the background, barking noises and distant howls broke the silence.

Maria and Donovan broke off into a run. After several turns down the pipe, Donovan stopped and began to feel the walls again. “What’s wrong?” said Maria. She started to pant, trying to catch her breath. Donovan didn’t respond. He continued to feel the walls and then tugged on her arm. “Nothing, this is the way,” he said, and they started again. After a few more twists, a sigh of relief came over them when they saw light at the end of their path. When they came within sight of the exit, a dark human figure shadowed the opening.

Maria stopped in her tracks; thoughts of being captured quickly came into her mind. She knew what it was like, and she promised to herself… not again will this happen. Donovan was reading her mind. He ran in a full sprint toward the dark humanoid when suddenly it disappeared with him as well. “Ms. Palmer, come on out, it’s over.” She heard a yell from outside. She stepped out of the pipe into the light, with a large pistol trained on her brother.

Donovan was on his knees, staring down the barrels of uniformed gunmen poised to strike.

“That’s right, it’s over,” said Maria unflinching, “We had a deal, Santiago, now let me walk free.”

One of the gunmen shouted back, “A deal is a deal, Ms. Palmer, as long as you can prove that you are really the one we need, we will let you cross into our faction.”

Donovan turned around slowly, his eyes bewildered, “Maria, what is he talking about?”

Maria cocked the weapon back and pointed it at his forehead. “I hate to do this to you, brother.” A tear started to form as her words began to come out slowly, “I told you before, I am not going back to that encampment, not now, not ever.”

And she pulled the trigger.

Lots of Buttons!

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Share The Rowen Common Records

I just know that it wasn’t my shift; in fact, it was my pseudo day off. I had plans, too, right? Do some laundry, hit up the mistress, nothing crazy, but when the damn phone rings for an all-hands-on-deck, well, what can you do? The Library system, which governs our hours, flagged me and a bunch of others as overtime burnout, whatever that means.

I knew I was hitting the hours, just didnt know it was happening that fast. It wasn’t like I had anything planned, but when that call came in for everyone to show up at some random hospital in Florida, well, there ya go, we do what the money tells us to do.

The J-Clan Commander, Fist Jackson, drove that shiny beast like a bat out of hell. I swear I can still smell the burnt rubber when he leaped out and ran up the hospital steps. The Father, Knuckle, was there waiting; hell, I think he was there before me, and the other guards showed up.

Well, anyway, he spoke to his son, Fist, and he started yelling in which I never saw him do. We were not told what was going on, but to perform our shifts while they figured it out.

“Sanchez, follow,” Knuckle said. A man of few words, but I was not going to tell him otherwise.

We traveled up the elevator, and I swear Commander Fist had lightning just waiting to explode. I am always careful not to aggravate them. Sure, we all have some innate abilities, for example, I can vibrate water like a party trick, but shit, these guys were on another level. Said they were trained since they were young.

We made it to one of the top floors… eighteen or so. I replaced Marco, who was stationed up there, and the leader just screamed at the nurse, like, who in the fuck does that right? He runs to one of the rooms, and that’s when the craziest thing happens.

Our visors get this weird message, talking about some Sword Master must die, all over the screen. I asked Marco later about it, much to no avail. He thought it was some sort of mysticism in another realm, and I am inclined to agree.

It wasn’t until later that I heard that this Swords Master was another person close to the J-Clan family, someone who walked away from it all.

Whoever was in that hospital that day, the reason for all of us to get called on the scene, started a chain reaction that somehow sent all of us on a mission we didnt even know existed.

And so here I am, traveling down a deserted road in a realm called Rowen with several of us on point to head to what was called Siski Valley, which is a lot like Death Valley. One of our enemies, Valtrosta, found his way into this realm and started making chaos for his own schemes. What exactly? Well, they don’t tell us much.

But I do know one thing…

“Sanchez, heads up, we’ve got incoming!”

We approached the mark site, and dozens of animals poured out of the desert, chased by dogs. Dogs… with Mickey Mouse hand-tails?

“We are going in hot… wait, Sanchez, do you see that?”

Yes, I saw it alright, and it only pissed me off even further. Those small animals…

…

were children…

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Malikhil (Ridel Corsican)

Friday, April 5, 2019

9:19 PM

“Show me a clean man, and I will tell you how many stones he will throw.”

Not much is known about the ten-year-old boy whom the Master Armorsmith Corsican found one day while surveying the mines near the Red Ridge Mountains. Wearing strange clothes with strange eyes and brandishing injuries no one has seen the likes of, the Armorsmith adopted the young man, and while the search continued for the parents of the child, to this day, no one has ever come forward.

Adopted into the Armorsmith’s family in Clear Port and given the name Ridel, the young boy exhibited a heightened sense of awareness with Resonance Stones. As he learned from his new father and was taught the fine ways of Resonance Manipulation, at 16, he was the first to imbue Resonance into a sheet of armor to repel the opposing element coating applied effectively. It wasn’t long until he used the techniques to apply the coating to different materials, from wood to metal. He still had a small problem as the coating would flail wildly on the material, burning the reactive properties of the Resonance stone in the process. Almost giving up on his grand project, Ridel went on a supply run to run supplies out to his father, who at the time worked on more metal surveys in the same mountain complex where he was first found.

Upon arriving at the campsite, an unfortunate earthquake rocked the land, and the cavern where his father was suffered a collapsed entrance. Desperate and worried, the entrance would not give way even to more explosives.

He eventually decided to use his new coatings on the collapsed rocks. After a violent reaction, he was able to enter and, through some rough navigation, find his wayward father and his crew. Hoisting each one out of the cavern, when he pushed the last of the survey team out, he noticed a glimmering metallic substance shining in a place where there should not have been any shine. When he touched it, the metallic substance crawled onto his skin, and he went into horrific seizures.

Realizing his son had not made it out after some significant time had passed, Corsican mounted a rescue mission. They found his boy, still violently seizing and coughing blood. They told Corsican that he started muttering a language they couldn’t make out, and words that meant no function at all. “Cleave,” “Stock,” “Child,” “Purd” were words that meant nothing to Corsican. The medical center also relayed that Ridel had reopened the five puncture wounds in his chest. No explanation as to how this was the cause, and there was no sign of any metallic substance of any kind.

Ridel eventually recovered. Once he had fully received his discharge paperwork, he went back into his studies.

One accident later, his blood was mixed in with one of the coatings on his project. The coating reacted to his voice, much to his surprise, and a year later, he solved the missing piece, which would now be known as the Resonance Calling, a method used to enhance and enslave the properties of the stone when combined with a host object.

Despite his accomplishments, the words and echoes of an unknown voice haunted him, causing sleep deprivation and infrequent blood vomits. In turn, the conditions became worse and soon Ridel started to recover fragments of a past long forgotten. In times when he spent in his lab doing research, his father, one day, looked at his notes when he slept, and finally succumbed to him, in addition to his repeated phrases, added “12” and “32” along with a particular line repeated in an up and down fashion on the following few pages of his journal. 37°58′56″N 121°18′03″W.

Fearing his son’s invention would cause him irreparable harm, the Armorsmith ordered his workers to destroy all the work.

Ridel woke up to a destroyed workshop in flames. His father told him it was for the best; however, he rushed into the burning shop anyway to save something or anything. His father followed him in to pull him out when the roof collapsed behind them, burying his father in the rubble.

Ridel yelled out; however, he felt his seizures starting to come about, and then he too collapsed onto the ground, helpless to do anything except look at the fire consume his parent.

Either through miracles or luck, he found a water Resonance stone sitting on top of a torn page of his notebook. He held onto the stone, coating himself with water, and with the last piece of paper with his research, he escaped the workshop, but just barely.

His burned sheet of paper contained the coordinates he barely remembered writing down, and then he took a journey to find the destination where it led.

He traveled with several companions, those whom he secretly told of his inventions, promising them treasure and fortune for what they would find at the unknown location. They traveled at night and slept in the day, for the sun was not as forgiving as the moon.

The trip lasted 32 days to an empty, barren land. Sure that he arrived at the coordinates correctly, they scavenged around and found nothing, treasure or traps.

He suggested waiting until the sun rose and looking again with more light. They all fell asleep, and when the sun reached above his head, Ridel heard a voice speaking in a tongue that eventually translated itself in his head. It screamed at him, forcing him to his knees, yelling ‘FREEDOM! VICTORY! EARTHMAN! HEZBOLLAH!’ over and over again.

One of his crew woke up to Ridel screaming out loud. When he went over to check on him, Ridel turned around and stabbed him with a spear through the head. “I am so dumb. I am so dumb.”

He repeated the statement over and over. The rest of the camped crew woke and scrambled in terror.

“I will remake this world. I will finally make it on my own!”

Only one man survived to tell the tale of Ridel, father of Corsican, the great Armorsmith. The statement that was passed on to the regent said

“Ridel wasn’t Ridel any longer. It is claimed that the poor man’s soul finally took him to a place where no man ever dares to go. He is now a vicious beast of malicious killing intent. Yes… Malicious Killing intent….”

The monster, who now goes by the name of Malikil, rampages across the land, manipulating the elements to his command. The world plunges into darkness, transforming beast and man alike into evil oddities to ensure his command philosophy is outspoken, loud, and straightforward. “Make it on my Own!”

When hope faded, the Angels heard the cries of men and beast alike on the ravaged world. A prophecy echoed amongst those in hiding, the survivors.

“Time flows like a river. And history… repeats itself. Belief in faith for two boys from the same earth, as the origin of the age of malicious killing, will shine a light upon the five swords of truth. The power shall set us free. And the Master of Swords will set things right before the wrong once again.”

I did manage to head to the outskirts of the treeline to get a good look at their movements. I mean, I had to see for myself as to why they would continue to move back and forth.

They packed their animals inside large rolling containers. Lining up one container after another and connecting them with large twine, he front of this large contraption was a much larger sealed box. It is remarkable what these Rowens can move as they have been doing this maneuver for well over a year now.

Kristen says it’s for them to get ready for war against the Anbar. They never fought in my lifetime, so I was skeptical, but the way the Elders were always nervous about strangers poking and prodding the woods, well, I would be down to listen to anything.

What I do know is that there is something wrong. The Northern Temple Palace sent a Champion in these parts, and even though she is a bit smaller than what the stories tell, her appearance in our village is no less than an omen.

What I don’t get is why the Champion keeps visiting that long-ear village. Is she looking for someone?

We will see.