Earth. April 22, 2018
Darling Point. Sydney, Australia.
His blood appeared roasted in the dim orange light of the hallway, almost thoughtful in the way it conformed to the contours of his face as not to obstruct his vision. He huddled constricted and naked on the carpeted floor, arms wrapped about his knees, forlorn eyes rolled up at Jack.
Mercy was for the good at heart, not for this filth. As the female whimpering of the man’s latest victim filled the house form a nearby bedroom, Jack kept the cold steel of his gun pressed firmly to the blood-soaked temple of the man’s head. Jack was dressed in his black leather overcoat, boots avoiding the puddles of blood on the carpet, his gloved finger securely covering the trigger.
“You’re running out of chances, Bob.” Jack’s voice was a rasped whisper, increasing the press of the barrel against Bob’s Temple. “You can tell me where it is, save me some time, and I’ll leave you here alive. Or you can keep holding out on me and I’ll turn this place upside down finding it… then leave you here with your ugly, dead balls exposed for whoever turns up to find your corpse. Either way it turns out well for me, don’t you think?”
“I’m not stupid…” Bob wheezed, a gurgling sound heard as blood filled his lungs from a prior blow to the chest. “You’ll kill me anyway.”
Jack narrowed one eye auspiciously. “Are you certain you wanna take that chance? Currently you’re not in any condition a hasty trip to the hospital can’t fix, well… maybe. But every moment you delay diminishes that chance of survival. Fact is, every word I’m currently talking brings you just that much closer to dea-“
“Shut the fuck up!” Bob coughed as he spat the words, sending a spray of blood over the hem of Jack’s coat and well-polished boots. Bob’s diminishing strength then loosened, the grip his arms on his tucked knees was released; one foot sliding forward as his hands dropped haplessly to the floor. “It’s behind the fuck’n...” His voice choked on more blood as his eyes diverted down the hallway. With a little wet coughing he cleared his throat enough to finish his sentence; “…painting in the lounge.” His eyes turned back up at Jack with shy hope of salvation.
'You really are stupid' Jack thought to himself, grimacing at the spray of blood on his clothes. His face lost all expression, raising his view to meet Bob’s uninspiring look of hope, and then spoke in a flat tone:
“Thanks for the information, you really saved me some time. Maybe you can take the peace of the only good deed you’ve done to your grave.”
Bob’s face fluctuated through a variety of questionable expressions before settling on one of grim acceptance. Jack had lied to him.
With the loud crack, muffled only slightly by the silencer that was Bob’s head, the brains of Bob coloured the wall in yet more bloody chunks. His body slumped to the side as his legs fell open to expose his nakedness.
“You really do have ugly balls.” Jack murmured, tucked his gun into the holster within the fall of his coat.
As Bob had specified with his final words, the item was found strapped to the back of a painting in the lounge room. He placed the paper bag and its content in his coat pocket then walked to the bedroom where the sound of the girls whimpering continues to hail from.
There she was, a teenage girl, disrobed, clothes strewn in the shadows of the dingy room. She was belly up, arms and legs bound to the four bedposts. Jack felt instantly sick, his teeth grinding at the sight of the distribution of blood that dictated the inhumane type of sexual abuse she had suffered at the hands of Bob.
“Fucking animal….” He shuttered, withholding tears of compassion.
He stepped up slowly, looking down at the girl; her eyes wide with terror, lips fluttering, her whimpers becoming louder with escalating fear.
“P-p-plea… don’t…” Her words were barely audible. Her body writhed in a vain strain to free herself.
“I won’t hurt you.” Jack assured her in his most soothing baritone voice as he produced a Bowie knife. “He’s dead. He won’t hurt you anymore, sweetheart.” He smiled, though mildly, assisting his words in an effort to set her at ease. Still, she remained understandably unsettled, even shuttering with further emotional agony as he drew the blade close to the rope that restrained her arm.
“I’m gonna set you free. When I do, put your clothes on and run from here. Don’t look back. Go home to your family. It’s all over now.”
The girl froze, only relaxing enough to scamper from the bed and gather her clothing once all four ropes had been cut. Jack turned away out of respect as the girl fumbled to dress herself. As she was about to exit the room, she paused to thank him in a timid, broken voice. Jack turned to her, deadpan, gave her a confirming nod to leave.
She followed his instructions and ran. The front door could be heard slamming on her departure.
Jack sighed, a small sense of satisfaction for his deed, then returning the knife to its sheath before casually making his way through the house in search of any other valuables he could lift. Several minutes later he was done and gone, the rumble of his Mustang’s V-8 engine fading into the distance….
Affection for Piper was being nurtured by the creatures expanding personality. He really was a cutie pie. But Jack sensed there was more to Piper than met the eye. Telepathic abilities were one thing – at the same time and despite Pipers size and feathery appeal – there was an underlying ominous stigma. At any moment he could imagine this critter suddenly transforming into a ferocious, wicked beast. Or, well, maybe it was just Jack’s paranoia of being in this strange world playing on his mind. Either way, it was more or less Jack’s lack of knowledge about Piper that had him hold his tongue about the messages on his phone, messages that, somehow indirectly, related to what Piper was telling him.
“You don’t say….” Jack spoke with listless sarcasm at Piper's first remark. Things were becoming very clear; meeting Piper and Cheryl was not a chance encounter. As the colour returned to Jack’s face, as he regained his composure and listened to the remainder of Pipers telepathic concerns, his mind flashed back to the incident not that long ago, when he’d acquired the special item for his employer and freed that teenage girl from the torture she had suffered.
“But why that specific memory….?” He uttered rhetorically as Pipers words came to a close. Jack had seen a lot in life, and a lot of death. He’d witnessed more than his fair share of the extremes that existed, allowing him to understand there was no coincidence in life, not random chance. Even seemingly random memories such as these provided their evanescent purpose. The only question was; what in all of God’s lost creation did that night have in common with what was taking place right now? The abducted teen? The item he had gone to that house to obtain? The dead villain, Bob? His ugly balls? Or maybe it was something more subtle, something he’d overlooked…. He searched the flashback before replying to Piper with yet another forced but substantially convincing smile:
“Alright. I’ll do what I can to convince her – and don’t worry, my little friend, I don’t know exactly what’s spooked you, but stick with me and I won’t let you get hurt. We good?”
After Pipers possible response to this, Jack stood, the seat sliding back across the floor by his sudden exertion. He gave a quick motion of his head, inviting Piper to his shoulder. “Take a ride or fly. Either way, let’s go.”
Jack slid his phone in his pocket, and whether Piper took to his shoulder or not, he headed out. Stepping into the night, he added flatly; “I’ve gotta do some thinking, but whatever happens, follow my lead and just play along, understood little buddy?” He lifted one finger to his lips, suggesting not to alert Cheryl of their approach.
Jack strode faster than his usual pace, a profound and never-before sense of instinct guiding his direction. Sheryl soon came into sight shortly past the nightly-abandoned market stalls of town. Jack was good at what he did, and one thing he did extremely well was sneak, a necessity in his line of work. Despite his hastened pace, he would manage to approach to within a few arm’s length of Cheryl before revealing his and Piper's presence with a sharp, deliberate scuff of his boot against the ground.
“I don’t want your help taming my magic.” He lifted his voice in a stern manner upon snatching Cheryl’s attention, “All I want is some damn courtesy, just like I’ve shown you. I know you didn’t need my help back there, that’s obvious now, but what, I don’t get any points for at least trying to save your life? What sort of bitch are you, anyway?”
Assuming Cheryl had stopped and turned to meet them, Jack would step up a little closer, a look of severe sincerity riding his face, and continued quickly before Cheryl had a chance to respond:
“I know you might not give two shits about anything else but your own damn problems, but I do. This isn’t my world – but a year ago I lost my daughter to this place, and now I’m here to find her. She’s lost. Alone. Scared as shit in this unknown land, and all I’m asking for is a little help finding her. I don’t know if you have any family left you actually care about, but maybe stop and think for a moment about what I’m going through. Yes?”
He paused to steady his breath.
“You heard Piper, all I want is to be guided to these so called
mages. Is that what you call them? Now I don’t know if that will help in finding Hannah, but it’s a start. Anywhere is a start right now. God knows your help has gotta be better than the rest of the bigoted fuck's I’ve seen around this shithole. And if you can possibly find it in your stone-cold heart to help me fulfil this task, I will devote everything I have to helping you in turn. You might think I’m a crazy fuck that you’re better off not dealing with, but I can tell you right now, you could do a lot worse than having me on your team. And just for the record….”
Jack glanced at Piper.
“...In case it wasn’t already obvious by what happened back at the bar, your little friend here is in danger too. Didn’t mean to put anyone in danger, but shit happens in life and for that I’m sorry. So if you care about his life at all….” Jack grit his teeth then extended his tongue with emotional intensity. “…I know I do… and I’ve only just met the little bugger. So if nothing else… if you can’t help us both out of genuine kindness – or just being the right thing to do – how about you do it for the sake of your little friend here?”
He finished with a small half-smile and settled his voice to a modest level;
“Sure would mean a lot….”
𝕾𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖜𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕱𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝕹𝖎𝖍𝖎𝖑𝖔
It happened again. Boris sat on the forest floor, legs outstretched with knees slightly bent while carefully surveying his new surroundings. This wasn’t the first time this had happened, that’s for sure. Over the last long while Boris would wake from his sleep to find himself in strange places. It had become a common thing, but this time it was just a little bit different – yes, a little bit different indeed.
Now, usually he would wake in the morning, but this wasn’t morning at all! He plucked a chunk of sand from his eyes and blinked a few times, enchanted by the three moons shining down through the trees above. But night wasn’t all that was different, his face was all wet on one side as well, and that wasn’t normal either! It wasn’t water, though, Boris knew the difference between water and other stuff. This was saliva, saliva had its very own texture, the same texture Boris could feel as he ran his fingers over his cheek and turned his eyes to see a wolf-like creature nearby.
GoshMaybe two arm lengths away, the grey and white marble-patterned animal was like nothing Boris had ever seen before, in that it had six legs.
One… two… three… four… and two after that makes six! It also had a very fluffy face and floppy tongue hanging out to one side as it sat between two shrubs, its moonlit eyes of animal caution aimed at Boris.
Boris smiled, face distorted in a happy little-boy manner, saying: “Thank you for waking me up, Mr. Dog. Boris sure does appreciate it,
a lot!”
The animal whined softly, lowering and angling her head with growing curiosity.
“And gosh.” Boris gave a look of immense approval. “You sure are cute, no doubt about that
at all.” He lowered his look to regard the extra set of legs with a satire smirk. “And don’t you worry, Mr. Dog, not even a little – Nah-ah! Boris won’t tell anyone about your extra legs. Gosh….” Boris quickly imagined all the things he could do with an extra set of legs like that; “I sure do wish I had more legs. I bet you can run very,
very fast with legs like yours.”
The animal remained seated while pulling herself a little closer with her front-most legs, buttocks dragging when Boris finally gathered himself from the ground to stand. He briefly dusted himself off and checked all his possessions were still on his person. They were, and he gave another expression of approval.
“Begging your pardon, Mr. Dog. If you sure can talk at all, Boris really would appreciate it if you told him where he is.” Boris looked around again with a note of concern. “I sure hope people here are nice, just like Jack!” Boris looked down at Mr. Dog again, who was now standing on all six legs, snout gently probing Boris’ fingers. “Jack is a very, very, very
special friend.” His strong sausage fingers caressed the animals’ snout. “But you can be my new friend. I don’t mind
at all.”
Mr. Dog perked her ears, angling them forward at Boris’ words, licked his thumb, fingers, then turned to commence sniffing the ground where Boris had been lying just moments before.
“Heh, you sure are right about that,” Boris chuckled, “Boris sure could use a bath.” With that, Boris had an idea! His face lit up like a little boy who just received the best idea ever. He removed his backpack quickly, rummaging through the contents, tongue slightly protruding with concentration before finally producing his tin of hard candy. He shook the tin, then swiftly removed the lid and offered Mr. Dog two pieces. Mr. Dog lifted her head. Her nostrils flared as she assessed the sweet aroma in the palm of Boris’ hand.
With a hasty lap of her tongue, a single crunch, and another lick of her chops, the candy was devoured. Boris sure was happy with the result. After placing one candy in his own mouth, he made loud sucking noises as he returned the tin to the pack and the pack to his back.
“It’s time for me to go now, Mr. Dog.” He garbled, and pat the animals head with a heavy hand. “You can come if you want, Boris doesn’t mind
at all..." While Boris was still talking, Mr. Dog had already started moving away. She stopped momentarily to look back and beckon Boris with an expectant widening of her eyes and a small howl-like bark. She then looked in the directed she had started walking, then back at Boris before continuing on her way. Boris stopped sucking on his tasty treat, lips puckered in thought while strained his simple mind. It took several seconds for him to realise that Mr. Dog wanted him to follow.
Sucking on his tasty treat and with a spring in his step, Boris pursued his new friend.
Boris was led through the woods not far at all before discovering a dirt road, which at first made Boris’ adventurer’s spirit leap in his chest. But, sadly, that wasn’t all he found.
There was an overturned wagon, the horses were gone, its contents of boxes and other items broken and strewn all over the road. Among the mess were two dead bodies. One man, one woman. Boris might have been a dumb-dumb, but he recognized straight away what had happened. These people had been killed while being raided by the very bad outlaw types.
His newfound exhilaration sank to the pit of his tummy like heavy lead.
Boris couldn’t be sure how long ago it had happened, but the still-burning guiding torch at the front of the carriage was a sign that it hadn’t been too long.
While Mr. Dog sniffed out the area, Boris approached each of the dead bodies, poking suspiciously with two fingers at their necks to check for signs of life. There were none. With confirmation that they really were dead, his attention was taken by Mr. Dog, who gave a swift nudge to Boris’ elbow.
Boris shifted quickly in his squatted position to see the sandal in Mr. Dog’s mouth. Mr. Dog had a clue for sure! Boris bit his tongue, concentrating hard while he took the sandal and analysed it carefully. Then, his eyes lit up with childlike revelation as he realised some very important things! This sandal didn’t belong to the dead people, it belonged to someone else, someone who was no longer here! He knew this because the sandal was too small to fit the dead man and woman. It was a
much smaller fit, and no one in the whole wide universe needed to be a smarty pants to figure
that much out.
Boris clutched the sandal as he stood up straight, barrelled chest expanding with determination as he looked at the tree-line shouldering the road. It was obvious that these two dead people had not been travelling alone. There was someone else, someone smaller, someone who just wasn’t here anymore. That must have meant that the bandits had taken them. Boris had witnessed people stealing other people before, and leaving behind sandals was an easy thing to do.
Normally, it took some time for Boris to figure out the reason why he woke up in a new, strange place, but this time he had found the reason quickly. He now knew what he had to do – and that was partly due to the help of Mr. Dog!
“Mr. Dog!” He exclaimed, raising the sandal and using it to point in no particular direction, “It sure would help if you used that nose of yours. Boris really wants to know where the bad men went, that’s
for sure!” He turned to lower the sandal for Mr. Dog to take another sniff of its scent, since it was a well-known fact that Dogs and other animals could smell things better than Boris could.
Mr. Dog had cowered for an instant, initially frightened by Boris’ excitable outburst, but she soon took another quick sniff of the sandal and promptly took off in a six-legged canter down the road. In tail of the strengthening scent, it wasn’t long before she deviated from the road and into the woods again. Boris had taken Revel Yell from its holster, preparing for combat as he tiptoed hastily in Mr. Dog’s wake.
Through the forest Mr. Dog led Boris to a ridged clearing. From there a camp of tents could be seen below. Boris Huddled like a child playing hide-and-seek, peering down from the fall, Mr. Dog by his side, both of them quietly taking notes of what they were seeing:
There were four - no, five tents! And a whole gang of ugly bandits living there as well! These must have been the bad men! No doubt about that
at all! Six… seven.. ten – No, there were more than ten, but Boris couldn’t count past ten. There was a camp fire in the midst of the camp as well, where all the bad men were cooking an animal over the flames. Boris could see a young girl too, she had a sandal missing from one of her feet, and she was wrapped all up in rope and crying on the ground beside one of the tents.
Boris, with his finger and thumb, grabbed hold of Mr. Dog’s ear too whisper close:
“You sure do make a good partner, that’s for sure. I’m going down now, no doubt about that. We have to save that girl from those bad, bad men – because that is what true heroic adventurers do!”
Mr. Dog regarded Boris with an apprehensive furrow-browed look before whimpering soft enough not to alert the bandits of their position.
“You can stay here if you want.” Boris replied. “I wouldn’t blame you at all – No sir!” He released Mr. Dog’s ear, fastening his grip on Revel Yell. “Boris is going down now, Mr. Dog.”
Chaos erupted in the form of shattering bones, exploding skulls, the wet mashing of flesh, screams of human terror, and the victorious bellows of a Dragons’ battle cry violating the tepid moonlit night for miles around.
…But it was soon to come to an end.
As the short yet brutal slaughter gave way once again to the peace of night that had preceded it, Boris stood victor, unscathed though showered in the blood of his enemies. Returning Revel Yell to its hold, he tottered unbalanced, fatigued, and barely able to glimpse the girl he had come to save before passing out.
He fell to his face with a heavy thump and instantly started snoring.
Just a few minutes later, Boris woke again, still in the same place he had passed out. He lifted his face from the dirt to see a young girl seated beside him. She was dressed in a pretty blue dress, legs crossed. She was no longer bound in rope, but recent tears had made tracks through the dirt on her face. Despite her obvious pain, she was holding out a delicate purple flower for Boris to take.
Boris smiled so wide that his face appeared deformed as he sat, crossing his own legs, facing her in a mirrored pose. He carefully took the flower from her tiny fingers with one of his massive hands.
“Gosh….” He sniffed the flower. His smile reduced to something less freakish looking. “I sure do like purple, little Miss. Thank you very, very much. Boris will keep this
forever.”
The girl bit her bottom lip and folded her hands in her lap. It could be seen that she wanted to smile back, but the horror of what had happened prevented it. Another tear rolled from her eye instead.
Boris felt sad now, reduced to a pouting face as he held the flower delicately in both hands like a sacred treasure. He had to look away for a moment, his eyes diverting to Mr. Dog. Apparently, Mr. Dog had released the girl from her binds. Nearby, she was snarling and chewing away at the rope that had been binding the girl… as though she were blaming the rope itself for what had happen.
“That sure is bad rope….” Boris grumbled confirmation. His eyes moved about furtively, assessing the blood-sullied ground of the camp, the mangled bodies, and of course the untouched meat still cooking over the flames of the fire. But his attention was quickly brought back to the girl when she finally spoke in the softest, sweetest voice Boris had ever heard.
“Did you save my mommy and daddy too?”
Boris’ mouth dropped open. He pressed the flower to his breaking heart. How could such a sweet, sweet voice cause so much pain…? He hung his head in shame.
“Boris is sorry, little Miss…. Your mommy and daddy were dead before Boris arrived…. I’m so very, very sorry…. They all gone now.”
Mr. Dog had stopped gnawing on the rope. She had turned to the girl when she asked about her parents. She then dropped slowly to a lying position, whimpering, head lowered to the ground as she too mourned.
As the girl began to sob, ripping Boris’ heart open even more, he clenched his eyes shut, wishing with all his might that the girls’ parents hadn’t died. He wanted nothing more in the whole wide world then to make them live again. Every last ounce of his person yearned for it. The terrible longing stung his flesh and caused his very bones to ache.
It was then that a gentle breeze disturbed the mourning night, rustling the leaves of the forest like the arrival of a ghostly entity. The breeze carried it with an aroma, like that of cinnamon, and sent an eerie shivers through Boris.
Somehow, Boris’ pain was numbed in that moment. He lifted his head to look at the girl who was staring back at him with wide eyes of speculation. She had felt it as well. So too had Mr. Dog; her whimpering silenced as she raised her own head and looked around at the invisible breeze with the upmost peculiarity.
“Did you….” The girl whispered, though her words drew silent as the effects of the breeze subdued her further.
Boris didn’t answer. He couldn’t. All three of them were still, absorbing the mysterious event in silent wonder. In a short while, the breeze settled, leaving the night in peaceful calm. The night and everything in it had become tranquillity.
Except for Boris’ tummy that started rumbling for food.
Boris, the girl, and Mr. Dog were noshing into the meat prepared by the bad men when the most amazing thing took place –
“Sashannah!!”
All three of them stopped eating at once, jumping in surprise at the sound of the name being called by the voice of a woman behind them. Boris leaped to his feet, dropping his meal to turn. Mr. Dog spat out her own mouthful of food and turned in equal surprise. And Sashannah - that was the girls’ name - pivoted quickly with a gasp as her marvelling eyes laid hold of her parents stepping down from ridge at the edge of camp.
Boris was very confused. His face screwed up, then formed a deranged smile. Mr. Dog tilted her head with a look of similar confusion. Sashannah, on the other hand, was already running to the arms of her parents, giving the apparent miracle no second thought. Her parents were alive and that was all that mattered.
Mr. Dog’s happiness soon overthrew her stunned state. She looked up at Boris with a small bark, slapped her tongue against his hand to kiss him, and then followed in Sashannah’s footsteps, leaping in bounding ecstatically towards her owners.
“Gosh…” Boris muttered weakly, as Mr. Dog, Sashannah and her parents joyously reunited as a family. “I sure was wrong. They aren’t dead
at all.”
Not too far away, shrouded in the shadows, an entity watched on.
Carnelian
Days
Harrington
Vampiretwilight
Krasnaya
WhiteAngel25
Makino
Jen
Zoie Hart
Lotus Moon
