PrologueThe sails whipped in the wind, thrusting the ship powerfully through the waves. "The quary is nigh, mateys!" Shouts Second Lieutenant Alexanderos C'Erden, favored son of the Duke himself. "Be on yer guard, though, bloody mermaids of the starboard bow! Fetch the harpoons, and mind their poison! It's deadly!" the ship sways rhythmically below him, but C'Erden pays no heed, eyes fixed purposefully on the horizon, where the triple masts of the enemy stand tall against the fading sun. Soon, he thought, soon.
But near at hand, the mermaids, bolder than usual, attacked! Climbing the sides of the ship, they were upon the crew, mercilessly slaughtering the men - officers, conscripted, and slaves alive. C'Erden screamed in fury, and lunged into the melee, calling his troops to rally about him. A fierce battle ensued, metal clanging on metal, thudding on flesh the screams of men and mermaid rising sharply in pitch, then falling away, to a gentle, rhythmic weeping as the battle ended as quickly as it begun.
"Well done, men!" C'Erden called. He patted one soldier on the back, and the soldier turns toward him, tears streaming down his strangely young face, a curious hiccoughing sob coming from his throat. "Buck up, brother, we have work to do!" Turning away, he goes to inspect the wounded, and their faces turn toward him, tears streaming down their similar faces as they sob uncontrolledly. C'Erden says a few words of comfort, then turns to the officers to organize the clean up and the chase. the officers look back in fear, their identical faces streaming tears as they weep, hiccoughing though their sobs as C'Erden towers over them, baffled and suddenly afraid.
He turns once again, and looks to the wheelhouse, the galley, anything to avoid those fearful faces. He looks to the sails whipping in the wind .... no ... not sails ... curtains ... gently wafting in the breeze from the open window. He looks past them to the masts of the ships, now recognizeable as the tall buildings across the river, in the capitol.
The crying doesn't stop as Alexander comes to a moment of stark clarity, and he turns, looking for the source of the sound. The young girl sits on the edge of the bed, arms wrapped tightly around her knees as she watches Alexander's mad antics cause havoc with the decor of the room. Pictures are tilted or knocked off the walls, a dresser is turned on it's side against the door, blankets are hung upon the ceiling fan, and dolls are scattered about in various stages of mournful distress. A call comes from the hallway, accompanied by a knock on the door, and a rattling of the doorknob. "Alex, is everything okay?"
The monster towered above the houses along the way. it's foul breath seeped through it's teeth in short, ragged bursts as it scanned the deserted uldings, looking for something, anything to devour. Darek knew that if it spotted him, it would bear down on him with speed and ferocity, and wouldn't stop until Darek lay broken at it's feet, barely a snack for the great beast. He kept his head down, as he sneaked from one pile of debris to the next.
A sudden sound of concrete crumbling drew Darek's eyes sharply upward, fearing that the building against which he cowered was about to collapse on him. Heart pounding, he watched as the second story tilted slowly, a wall giving way and collapsing into the alley nearby. Darek wasn't safe yet, as another sound, aprimal sound,welled up withing the beast.
Darek looked up again, further, above the collapsed wall, above the edge of the roof, where four claws gripped the eave, up the long, scaly neck, eyes fixating on the jagged grin, the black, soulless eyes of the Enemy. the Enemy's mouth slowly opened, and Darek's doom was assured. "Dinner's ready, son. Come on down when you're cleaned up, okay?" Darek screamed, then blinked, looking into the kind, wrinkled eyes of his father, waiting patiently in the doorway to his room. Heart pounding .. Darek tried to focus on the moment, while shadows and spectres taunted him from the edges of sight, and his dad stared. "Son?"
She scribbled furiously, putting all her rage into her pen, the ink, the paper. That school board would know the atrocities that bus lady committed. No child was safe with a woman like that in the driver's seat. But before Annie could finish the sixth page, an alarm beeped, pulling her away. "Dinner" she muttered, and walked into the cluttered, dark little kitchen, pulling her chicken pot pie out of the oven to cool. A knock came on the front door, but Annie ignored it. It came a gain, twice, three times, four. Then it stopped, as it should, and the sound of feet descending the front steps assured her that they were going indeed.
As she sits down to her cold pot pie, hours after it had come out of the oven (she had been distracted by another letter, this time to the city about crosswalks), the sound of laughter draws her. she rises slowly, reluctantly, and walks haltingly to the window. Taking a deep breath, she pulls the curtains aside and peers out into the late afternoon sun. the playground across the pond was nearly deserted, but two small children ran and giggled, playing a game only children would understand. Terror fills her - the images of animals in the woods, falls into the pond, or worse begin flooding her mind. She couldn't go out ... it was too much!
but ...
but ... she couldn't leave them to their fate, she just couldn't!
Sweat rolled down Starn's face, and it had little to do with the heat. He was out, out! they were after him, he knew they would be after him. or would they? nothing is certain, nothing is real. But what if they were? In a strange, gut wrenching way, he hoped they were chasing him. It couldn't all be a dream ... could it? Starn walked quickly down the street, looking for something, a way out, something familiar. He saw so many faces he couldn't recognize - that itself was strangely comforting - the city was always full of faces he didn't recognize.
Ahead, Starn sees a sight that fills him with ... hope? He dashes into the fast food joint, it's familiar sights, sounds, and smells calming his still too rapid heartbeat. The sweat on his face dried slowly as he waited in line to order, repeatedly touching himself, checking his pockets, straightening his hair, shifting his feet, to be sure he was still there.
finally, Starn is standing before the register, staring at the cashier. Was she the same one that was there when he came in? He can't remember. She speaks. her voice sounds familiar, it must be the same girl. the words were the same as always, and Starn pulls out his wallet, and counts. He counts again. And A third time, and comes up with the same number each time. "May I take your order?" She asks?
Jack hauls himself into the dumpster. He begins to look, feverishly, for something, anything. The smells of half rotten food don't disgust him any longer - they haven't in years. but then, neither does the smell of almost warm food draw him. food wasn't the reason he was here today. Hunger gnawed at him, but something gnawed harder, and another urge drove him forward.
Scraping food off a moist and sticky paper, he scanned it quickly. This. Another piece of the puzzle. He stuffs it into one of the pockets of his overlarge coat. He continues on, digging deeper. There must be more. He digs until his fingers scrape roughly against the bottom of the dumpster. Nothing. Jack sits back, nearly oblivious to the filth, eyes darting back and forth rapidly. he needed more information. the clues must be somewhere!
Climbing out of the dumpster, Jack makes his way back to the shelter, and barely objects when e is ordered into the shower. He washes quickly, but lingers in the shower, tracing patterns on the wall in the soap. He is angered when he is interrupted by the next man in need of cleansing, but gets out and dries quickly, dressing in the bath clothes that were laid out for him before taking his clothes to the laundry in the basement. It is here, as he is loading the machine, that Jack notices that something is missing. The paper! Who took it? Another bum? The shelter? Someone else? Anger and despair well up in Jack, forcing him to act.
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Topic: Insanity: Roll to Keep it Together (Read 33346 times)