You guys get the first read through.
And as for the long delay, I worked on this for all of about an hour, lazed about for a couple months, and wrote the rest in a half hour.
I am.
That's all I have to claim.
I don't have any special powers.
I cannot travel through time without assistance.
I cannot do much of anything really.
But I can say this much.
I know who I am.
As you run through the mansion, weaving between furniture and ducking through doorways, you mentally curse everyone back at home base with every fiber of your being.
Steal his crowbar They said. It will be easy.
When you get back you are going to sock them one in the jaw.
You dash through another dozen or so doors, the sound of crashing and cursing far behind you. You stop for a breather.
It is silent, and you take the moment to observe your surroundings.
Clocks.
Fuckin' clocks. What is with these guys and clocks? Clocks and the color green.
I mean, c'mon. You like the color as much as any other guy, but this is just ridiculous.
As you move on, something catches your eye, hidden under a stairwell.
It is a sign.
"DO NOT ENTER"
A thousand thoughts run through your head.
Why would the Felt of all people have someplace they cannot go to?
I really should get going.
But the most prominent one goes thusly:
I need to find out what it is.
You take in the room quickly, and confident in your solitude, open the door.
The stairs lead into darkness.
You close it quietly behind you and fumble for a light switch.
When it hit's you are slightly disappointed by what you see.
For unknowable lengths the room is filled with junk.
Furniture, appliances, and various knickknacks lined the walls and floor.
You walk up to a lamp and examine it.
Worthless.
You set it down and walk away when it crashes on the floor.
You spin around.
The lamp is still on top of the table.
You blink before the lamp falls again.
It crashes.
Then it uncrashes.
As If in slow motion, you see it recreate itself and perch back on top of the table, teetering over the edge.
It falls again and the door creaks open above you.
Got you.
You run.
Weaving through the maze of junk, you can barely keep ahead of your pursuer.
Left, right, left, left, upper right, front.
You stop, and the hurried footstept behind you do as well.
A dead end. Two couches with boxes to the ceiling lead to a small couch and an oven.
You turn around slowly, backing against the appliance as the large man comes forward. Something overhead drips onto the floor.
Thought you could just sneak around could ya?
You never were great at hand to hand. Or hand to crowbar as the situation implies. Barely sub par, actually.
Ya even tried to steal my weapon. That's some nerve you got.
He grins as you prepare for the fight of your life.
Nerve won't save you from me pal. I promise that this'll only hurt a lot for a very long time.
He charges and you attempt to regain your footing, replicating fighting stance 7.
Your foot slips.
You flail your arm out and catch the bar of the oven. Your back crashes into the suddenly open door, and you start to slide backwards as the door closes of it's own accord.
The last thing you see is a crowbar heading toward you as the door closes.
It's bright. You think as you come to your senses.
Bright and hot.
You brush some sand from your body as you climb to your feet.
A baking desert surrounds you in every direction. There is no visible entryway that you could have come out of.
With nothing else to do, you begin walking.
You are sweating.
You abandoned your jacket long ago from the heat. This proved to be a mistake, as not you had less to protect you from the sun.
You ache to move, your skin a mess of red streaks and cracks. Blisters erupt on your feet from the long walk.
But you have to keep walking. You need to get back.
You continue.
You are very tired. So tired.
You don't know how long you've been walking. You try to remember how how got here but you can't. The past shifts and blurs.
But you are tired, and sore. You feel hot all over, while your vision blurs.
You stop and sway for a second as a rush of blood fills your head, then departs.
Opening your eyes, you see an oasis ahead.
With straggling steps, and swaying balance, you rush forward and collapse into water.
Hot sand rises against your head and you laugh, and laugh, and laugh...
You awaken abruptly.
Something cracked. There is a hole above you.
A swirling green hole, a vortex of energy, spiraling and frothing.
Confused and tired... so very tired...Just go back to sleep...
You reach up and touch it.
Itburnsitburnsitburnsitburnsitburnsitburnsitburnsitburnsitburns!
And you feel alive.
With new energy, you set out once more.
The cycle has gone on for as long as you have known it. Walk, collapse, reach out, and walk again.
Each time you touch the green vortexes, something fills you and you feel so much better, so energized, and so much better. Aches and pains you never knew you had fade away once you touch the heavenly swirls.
But once in a while you think you hear something in the endless winds, something about the past... but you can never hear it clearly.
You just continue onward, one green foot at a time.
It doesn't happen suddenly. Over time, you notice the changes. The dunes of sand are shorter, the rifts, smaller. The unbearable heat overhead has reduced to annoyance
In time, the dunes disappear completely. Occasionally you step into a patch bare of sand. It feels cool to the touch, and is smooth.
You had forgotten the feeling of metal. You feel it, memorizing the touch before you move onwards.
And eventually, The rifts stop appearing. The sand is gone. And the endless horizon is shrinking rapidly.
Perhaps it is the end, you wonder.
And you are sitting in a box, the door bashes open, and a man with a crowbar raises said item menacingly.
He drops the weapon, then grins.
He holds out a hand.
Something long silent whispers to you, yells and screams at you, but you've forgotten how to hear.
You take it.
I know who I am, I can say that much.
My name is Biscuits, And I am a member of the felt.
Vox vocis of solitudo memoria
Poll
Author
Topic: MSPA Homestuck (Read 5220919 times)