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[atmosphericskull]

Kindling

I have always known what my mission is. I long to find that secret spark, whose name I cannot tell. I catch fire and am consumed, and the flame grows to engulf the world. Call me kindling—I am the hero who dies to kill the world—who kills this world to bear forth the future.

[atmosphericskull]

This is actually a story I wrote many years ago, inspired by (as a prequel to?) a story my friend had just written at the time.

Zombie Dreams

Just around the corner, I stopped, ostensibly to catch my breath. But as I huffed and puffed, I had a terrible moment to consider the truth of the matter. They were all dead. There was nothing to fight for. And there was nowhere to run.

Fear and panic were quickly overtaken by dread. But even to dread it seemed futile. I was powerless. The imminent inevitability of my demise had a calming effect. Or so it seemed. I began to wonder if I wasn’t deceiving myself. Surely it was the height of conceit to presume myself free from pointless fear. I poked and prodded my mind, just to be sure. But I felt cold and empty.

A crash from back down the corridor interrupted my confused introspection. I sighed and attempted to gather my resolve. I turned back to face my doom. The action seemed hollow. I didn’t know why I was doing it. I didn’t know what to feel. I was spotted. I advanced slowly. They shambled desperately forward. They shuddered and groaned and flailed, energetic and feral, but their eyes were cold and dark, void of intelligence. I saw a few familiar faces.

In a moment, I supposed, the curtain would drop, and I would feel again. Mortal terror would overtake me. I closed my eyes. Someone screamed in the distance.

*           *           *

It took me a moment, as I drifted unsteadily into awareness, to realize that it had been repeating over and over. Eyes shut. Terror. I scream. Pain, and with it, silence. I can’t breathe.

I couldn’t breathe. My eyes flew open. Nothing. I closed them and opened them again. Still nothing. I kept trying to lift the darkness until I was thoroughly confused as to whether or not my eyes were open. Suddenly I remembered that I couldn’t breathe. The weight of the darkness pressed in around me. I swam up. I swam faster and faster as the panic swelled. I wasn’t going to make it. I stopped swimming, but my head didn’t. I doubled over in my convulsions. I gasped, and the water rushed in. I felt something snap in my chest.

I realized I didn’t have a chest, or a body at all. I looked up. There was a man.

He was cold. He wandered aimlessly through the void. Oh but he needed something, he ached with longing. There! In the distance, a pinprick of light. He tried to run, but the air turned to syrup. Oh the light and the warmth, how it would soothe. Steadily the light grew before him. He extended a smoky hand to the blazing fire. He loved it. Finally he came close enough and embraced it. It went out. First, despair, but then, another light! He got up and went after it.

As he proceeded in this manner, something began to move in from the periphery of his awareness. He was not alone. Far from void, this space was populated with a whole host of people like himself, chasing ever wispier flames. He stopped. As soon as he did, he noticed something else: a low, persistent thrumming, and a voice, harsh and black, issuing a stream of indistinct commands. The world echoed the sound all around him, and it began to reverberate within him, cutting across his thoughts, compelling him—

I was torn away from him by the voice. He started forward again, a part of the mob. The army faded as my attention shifted to the sounds again. There was something else just over the thrumming. An unearthly singing. It seemed to emanate from the vacuum above. As I followed it to its source, the blackness stormed around me in a rage.

I came across a giant. Its features were obscured by a blinding aura, sickly white and pulsing. It was the speaker. It did not appear to notice me. It held the palm of its hand forward. In the center there was a black disc, the source of the music. I saw something orbiting the giant: a cloud of flaming orbs, blue and cold. They swirled around and up away into the distance. They were powerless with fear of the singing disc. I realized I was one of them. The disc was hard to look closely at, but I stopped and tried. Everything else seemed to shrink. It wasn’t a disc, but a tremendous door. I entered.

[atmosphericskull]

Zombie Dreams

Just around the corner, I stopped, ostensibly to catch my breath. But as I huffed and puffed, I had a terrible moment to consider the truth of the matter. They were all dead. There was nothing to fight for. And there was nowhere to run.

Fear and panic were quickly overtaken by dread. But even to dread it seemed futile. I was powerless. The imminent inevitability of my demise had a calming effect. Or so it seemed. I began to wonder if I wasn’t deceiving myself. Surely it was the height of conceit to presume myself free from pointless fear. I poked and prodded my mind, just to be sure. But I felt cold and empty.

A crash from back down the corridor interrupted my confused introspection. I sighed and attempted to gather my resolve. I turned back to face my doom. The action seemed hollow. I didn’t know why I was doing it. I didn’t know what to feel. I was spotted. I advanced slowly. They shambled desperately forward. They shuddered and groaned and flailed, energetic and feral, but their eyes were cold and dark, void of intelligence. I saw a few familiar faces.

In a moment, I supposed, the curtain would drop, and I would feel again. Mortal terror would overtake me. I closed my eyes. Someone screamed in the distance.

*           *           *

It took me a moment, as I drifted unsteadily into awareness, to realize that it had been repeating over and over. Eyes shut. Terror. I scream. Pain, and with it, silence. I can’t breathe.

I couldn’t breathe. My eyes flew open. Nothing. I closed them and opened them again. Still nothing. I kept trying to lift the darkness until I was thoroughly confused as to whether or not my eyes were open. Suddenly I remembered that I couldn’t breathe. The weight of the darkness pressed in around me. I swam up. I swam faster and faster as the panic swelled. I wasn’t going to make it. I stopped swimming, but my head didn’t. I doubled over in my convulsions. I gasped, and the water rushed in. I felt something snap in my chest.

I realized I didn’t have a chest, or a body at all. I looked up. There was a man.

He was cold. He wandered aimlessly through the void. Oh but he needed something, he ached with longing. There! In the distance, a pinprick of light. He tried to run, but the air turned to syrup. Oh the light and the warmth, how it would soothe. Steadily the light grew before him. He extended a smoky hand to the blazing fire. He loved it. Finally he came close enough and embraced it. It went out. First, despair, but then, another light! He got up and went after it.

As he proceeded in this manner, something began to move in from the periphery of his awareness. He was not alone. Far from void, this space was populated with a whole host of people like himself, chasing ever wispier flames. He stopped. As soon as he did, he noticed something else: a low, persistent thrumming, and a voice, harsh and black, issuing a stream of indistinct commands. The world echoed the sound all around him, and it began to reverberate within him, cutting across his thoughts, compelling him—

I was torn away from him by the voice. He started forward again, a part of the mob. The army faded as my attention shifted to the sounds again. There was something else just over the thrumming. An unearthly singing. It seemed to emanate from the vacuum above. As I followed it to its source, the blackness stormed around me in a rage.

I came across a giant. Its features were obscured by a blinding aura, sickly white and pulsing. It was the speaker. It did not appear to notice me. It held the palm of its hand forward. In the center there was a black disc, the source of the music. I saw something orbiting the giant: a cloud of flaming orbs, blue and cold. They swirled around and up away into the distance. They were powerless with fear of the singing disc. I realized I was one of them. The disc was hard to look closely at, but I stopped and tried. Everything else seemed to shrink. It wasn’t a disc, but a tremendous door. I entered.

[atmosphericskull]

it’s cable two

[atmosphericskull]

it’s cable two

[atmosphericskull]

A snake woke up in a bed of flowers. The air tasted sad, but dry. The snake set off in search of trees. When it couldn't find its way, it found a mouse instead. It asked the mouse, "If you fail, I will not forgive you?" The mouse gave the snake its favorite watch and ran away. The snake, wary of police, continued on its way. It consulted the watch, which was a compass instead. It turned a corner, and ran into a cute-girl. The cute-girl's coffee spilled all over the snake's shirt. The snake sternly required, "Untenable environment. Investigate." The cute-girl blushed correctly. She had forgotten her true mission. She removed the snake's shoes and held them tenderly. The snake stumbled onward, wary of sidewalk cracks. Unsure of what came next, the historian laid down his pen. The snake, unaware of this, proceeded. When it came to the top of the mountain, it checked its pockets. It had forgotten the snake at home. Wary of itself, the snake was already in the forest. It beseeched the forest, "What more can you do for your country?" The forest silently laughed.

[atmosphericskull]

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