Chance Encounters
It was late, in the early, dark
hours before the approaching dawn. The once lively crowd had lulled. Most of
the partygoers either had left the club on the lower east side of Paris for the
night, or had fallen asleep wherever they could rest their heads. The band
played a last song, as workers swept the floors while preparing to close. The trumpeter
blew the loudest notes, his cheeks ballooning with redness, purposely waking
the sleeping heads, rousing them to go home.
Of the handful of patrons
remaining, one young man in particular, had left his slumbering girlfriend
inside for a few extra minutes of rest before stumbling out into the dark
street to clear his own head. With a few deep breaths of briskly chilled air,
the young man began to wake from his hard nap. He looked up at the sky, what
was sunny and warm earlier, was now black and unusually cool for a night at
this time of year. He watched his breath crystalize upward, mixing with the
air, forming clouds of fleeting vapor. He automatically glanced up and behind
his shoulder as the club preemptively shut off the all the lights out front on
the street where he stood, yet still, the music blared throughout the club and
filtered into the mostly abandoned city lane. A worker closed the front side
windows to the club, muffling the loud trumpeter’s horn. No longer feeling warm
air from behind, the young man huddled his shoulder, flipped the collar of his
jacket up against his neck, covering a black scorpion tattoo outlined with red
ink, which stretched from his earlobe to the top of his shoulder. He vigorously
rubbed his hands together, and blew warmth from his breath into them. He peeked
in through the window of the door at his girlfriend, but her head remained
unmoved on the tabletop, so he turned and shivered as the cool air gradually
woke him.
Across from the club, past the broad, main road, in the
shadows of a long narrow street between buildings, he saw a large pile of trash
move without cause. He looked back into the club once more at his girlfriend,
and then trotted across the street to investigate. He crept slowly as he neared
the trash pile. He paused stilly whenever it occasionally shook, nonetheless curiosity
inched him forward. On the tips of his toes, he stretched his neck out in order
to catch a glimpse. However, the pile of trash was heaped up, stacked too high
and wide for any view around or over top. Closer he quietly shuffled his feet,
stepping to the side for a full on view. The murky night, along with the
shadows cast by the alley, made it nearly impossible to see, but something slouched
and recessed in the dark corner on the other side of the bags of garbage.
He looked back at the club, now at
a distance behind him across the street. A deep foreboding rot in his bones and
uneasiness filled his chest and stomach. He readied himself to silently back
away from the dark alley and toward the safety of the club. But at that moment,
the clouds in the sky parted, allowing the moon to rain scattered beams of
ghostly light upon the alleyway, revealing a sight so foul, his body seized and
grim fear held his breath. A grotesque beast of legendary urban myth, feasted
on the remains of the day’s garbage. Spiny vertebrae protruded from the beasts
back. Grayish green, waxy, glossed skin gave the beast an oily appearance. It
was boney and bare, with the exception of a loincloth. When the darkness parted
upon the alley, a thin sliver of the moon descended in a sideways slant upon
the creature’s eyes. They were large saucers, dead as coal, and devoid of
emotion, as the young man saw his reflection in the beast eyes. The unworldly beast
held a stare at the young man, each sized up the other. The young man’s eyes
widened, as the creature’s eyes narrowed. One was prey, the other was a
predator, and for a brief moment, each knew what the other one was thinking.
The beast growled with a low pitch
and angled its body, springing back in a pouncing position. The young man
panted heavily, refusing to blink or look away. Time seemed to slow, with each
subtle movement magnified in the tense alleyway standoff. When the beastly
creature growled again, the young man backed away in nervous expectation,
stumbling, his feet tangled, but he remained upright, collecting his calm.
However, when the monster spoke words to him, he recoiled backwards, straight
legged, his body jerked off the ground, and his color blanched, draining him
until only the hue of terror remained. Unconscious survival turned him around,
while pure adrenaline propelled a burst of swiftness toward the club, were the
boisterous music continued to play. He could still see people in the windows,
sweeping, stacking chairs, and playing music.
For a moment, all he could hear was
his own heart and the sound of his fearfully labored breaths. Then he heard an
ominous voice from behind, yet he resisted the temptation to look back. He kept
his eyes fixed on the club where his girlfriend slept. He had to make it back
to her. There was no choice, nor doubt he could and would make the short
distance from the alley to the club, because only a street separated them.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
The creature soared like a puma with speed and power well beyond that of any
human.
The young man ran from the alley. His
heart thumped rapidly as he felt the beast’s nostrils huffing warm, foul breath
down the back of his neck. A fleetingly smile crossed his face, for he had made
it out of the alley and onto the street, but the creature pinged from one wall
to another and bounded down on top of the young man’s back with ease.
“Ah!” The young man screamed as the
band played the last note of the final song louder to wake the few remaining
patrons before the club closed. “Help me!” He wailed, his face down, his stomach touching the ground. He
reached toward the club where his sleeping girlfriend stretched and yawned,
pulling her head from off the table. She looked from side to side and around
the club for her boyfriend, but she did not see him, so she sat and waited.
The creature leaned on top of his
back with heaviness, making simple movements impossible. Nevertheless, the
young man slowly propped one elbow up and then awkwardly the other. He
struggled as he crawled toward the club on his belly. Yet soon the beast easily
dragged him by the ankle back into the alley. Screaming and flailing his legs,
the young man frantically clawed at the street’s cold ground. Icy hooks sank into
his flesh, taming him by penetrating deeply into the muscle fibers around his
spine. The young man rang out a shrill cry that was accompanied by a gush of red
fluid from his back. With the last of his strength, he ripped his leg from the
beast’s hand and freed himself. He shouted at the club, waiting for help from anyone
who might possibly hear him.
The creature ground its fangs back
and forth, irritated by the young man’s resilience. It aggressively thrust a
hand of razor tipped, black talons again into his back, and with one more violent
push, it twisted until the young man was subdued. The young man’s head and
limbs flopped down, but his eyes remained open, blankly staring at the club. The
beast pulled him by the leg back into the alley, leaving a trail of bright,
freshly smeared blood, disappearing into the darkness as the last song softened
into silence.
Immortals
“Wait!” Revekka grabbed his
shoulder. “Before you go through the aperture, I just want to say…” Her eyes
briefly shifted downward, then back up at him, as his aguish became hers. You
shouldn’t think of yourself as a failure.” She gently slid her hand off his
arm.
He turned toward the vortex, glanced
over his shoulder at her, giving a saddened smile, and said, “I was supposed to
be the Acuumyn who established peace, security, and a utopia for earth and
Eruditus, and I did fail.”
More words felt wrong, as she cradled
her hands together, close to her chest, and with her neck and head downcast,
her long, flowing locks tumbled slowly forward from off her back shoulders,
covering her face from dispirit.
Maximilian, already flustered, advanced
toward Acuumyn. “You must not lose faith now.” He shook his warlike fist.
The aperture swirled before them.
Revekka lifted her head, smiling forcibly. Acuumyn turned, facing both of them
one last time.
“Yes,” Revekka exclaimed joyously,
waiting on encouragement. “There is always hope. I feel it with all that I am.”
“I will deliver this with power and
speed.” Maximilian squeezed his hand, holding his scroll high in the air. “And
then I will protect the halfings from the Shroud. I will prepare the children
who were chosen by the Artifex to free this realm forever from evil.” His chest
raised, he tightened his teeth and focused his eyes with uncommon resolve. “I
will finish Benoit’s training as a knight, so he may lead the likes of
Appollos, and Aurielle, and the precious few other Galinea that are left from
the knighthood for earth’s sake.”
Acuumyn perked up. His face shined
with pride, as he looked approvingly upon Maximilian before turning his
attention to Revekka. “And what of you?” He asked.
“I have been gifted a vision by the
Celestial Pyre,” She said. Maximilian gasped. He kneeled before her, bowing.
Acuumyn’s demeanor did not change.
He wrapped his hands behind his back and reverently nodded. “The Celestial Pyre
speaks to no one, or at least it has not in hundreds of years.”
“But it spoke to me,” she said,
with sincerity.
Maximilian slowly lifted himself
off his knees, kept quiet, and inquisitively gazed between Revekka and Acuumyn.
A tense moment passed, and then
Acuumyn shook his finger at her. “You have Empathic abilities, so it stands to
reason you are more sensitive to the Celestial Pyre. It is the flame that burns
day and night underneath the castle, for it is the spiritual source of all life,
and its symbol has given you a sign with meaning greater than what we know.”
Acuumyn rubbed his chin, looking at her, while tilting his head from left to
right.
“It told me to…”
Acuumyn abruptly held his hand up
and stopped her. “What the Celestial Pyre showed you was for you alone.”
“Then I must give its message
before I deliver this scroll.”
“Agreed,” Acuumyn simply said.
“Which way does the Celestial Pyre send you?”
“To the south.”
“Then, Maximilian, you need to
travel the northern most route until you reach the castle, so the two of you
never come close to each other once I leave this place.”
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