#about how no one would ever serve rotten meat at any time in history

[non-un-topo]

Hey if you ever want to be condescended and teased every time you open your mouth, just spend the holidays with family ahahaha

[spookyspaghettisundae]

Try English

Mary blew smoke out through her nose. It stung.

The empty beer bottles on her grimy kitchen table clinked and clattered as her sleeve snagged on something that made the cluttered table’s surface rattle. She flicked ashes from her cigarette into an overflowing ashtray. She ignored this mess, her eyes instead trained on the person standing in front of the refrigerator.

Her brother, Malcolm. He stood there with an almost meditative calmness and stared back at her. His gaze swept through the messy place, never lingering too long on anything like the pile of unwashed dishes, the stacks of old newspapers, or the mountain of empty cans heaped up on the counter. Malcolm looked far better than she remembered him: less pale, and stronger somehow—like he had been working out.

Most of all, how he looked when she last saw him, lying in a casket. Malcolm had been dead for over four years.

The hand Mary used to hold her cigarette trembled. Not with fear, but anger. She was an angry person. Always had been, always would be. Seeing Malcolm back had made a pit form in her stomach, because she wasn’t finished with him. She wasn’t finished with a lot of people.

See, when most other people see anybody return from the dead, they go straight to shock, denial, or pure, unadulterated dread.

But not Mary. Most of her family members had died. And they had had the audacity to kick the bucket before she could really tell them how she felt about them. A lot of messed up history to sort through. A lot of pent-up rage, waiting to be unleashed. And here was Malcolm, loitering around in her home like nothing had ever happened.

She took another long drag from her cigarette and rolled her jaw while she searched her mind for the right words. But none came yet.

“Love what you did with the place, Mary,” Malcolm mused. The corners of his mouth twitched until they twisted upwards into a creepy smile. “You think Mom would have appreciated how you turned this place into such a miserable dump?”

He licked his lips and hooked his thumbs into the belt holding up his jeans.

“Fuck you,” Mary snapped at him.

Malcolm showed no instant reaction, then burst out with a brief chuckle. Knowing. Malevolent.

“I didn’t turn this place into a dump, I let it turn into a dump,” she then corrected him, letting the smoke pour out of her mouth while she spoke.

Malcolm grabbed an open bottle of stale beer from the counter and sniffed it. He raised it as if to perform a mockery of making a toast.

“I see you’ve become a philosopher in the meanwhile, sis,” Malcolm mused. The creepy smile maintained its place on his visage. It turned into a cringe after he took a swig from the bottle, and the rotten taste assaulted his pristine taste buds.

“Yeah. Night shifts at a shitty gas station for over six years sure do lend themselves to deep introspection. Take that bottle, for instance. Is it half empty, or half full of go fuck yourself?”

He smirked and put the bottle down, which caused a small pyramid of empty old cans of beans to collapse as the glass connected with them. He turned away from her and plucked a piece of paper attached to the fridge’s door with a magnet without even shooting it a passing glance.

Mary flinched, somehow sensing that he knew the contents of whatever was written on it without reading. It just made sense. She just made sense of things.

“How are your anger management classes going? Any progress with that, Maddy?”

Her left eye twitched upon hearing that old nickname.

“They’re goin’ good, dickweed. I have a crowbar I can get to cave in your tail lights if you need a demonstration,” she said. She snuffed out her cigarette, mashing it into the pile of other butts in her ashtray, causing more cancer dust to spill out and onto her table.

That wiped the grin right off his face. Which, in turn, prompted a satisfied smirk of her own to form on Mary’s face in response.

“How’d you get here anyway? Hijack a car? Also, not to really address the elephant in the room here, but how the fuck are you not just a pile of maggot-riddled rotten meat and bones? It’s been six years, chickenshit.”

He approached the table and leaned forward until he rested his knuckles against the only vacant spots on it, hunching forward to move uncomfortably close to her. Mary picked up one of the beer bottles in front of her and took a sip from it to wet her chapped lips. She gripped the glass so hard that her knuckles turned white, ready to weaponize the object.

It was not fear that she felt. Mary’s blood boiled.

“See, I’m not really your little brother. I’m just borrowing his body to come see you in person, Mary.”

“Of course, just my fucking luck. Fuck me for hoping to finally get some closure by telling my little dipshit of a brother to eat shit.”

He flashed a toothy grin before he replied, “I can play pretend, if you want. We know many things, Mary. We who pierce the veil and cross over as we wish—we know everything.”

She relaxed her grip around the bottle, ready to flip it and use it as a club. Wasn’t her first time to do so.

“Like that one time you tried talking to Bobby Gordon but shat your panties because you were too scared. Excused yourself quickly and were too late for swim team because you scrambled to clean up your mess,” he said in a singsong tone—referencing an embarrassing memory that she had never told anybody else. Not the AA meeting groups, the anger management support groups—not even her therapist.

Struggling to understand how he knew the pause gave him cause to chuckle again.

He continued, “Or were you just so drunk off your ass that you told someone about that and can’t remember?” Another chuckle, more sinister this time. “Yes, I can taste what you’re thinking, Mary. Or maybe you told it to the thin air, reaching someone who’s now just another body, six feet under, whose memories bled through the thin fabric between worlds?”

“Okay, asshole. I see you’ve got some tricks. Is that the best you’ve got? Am I supposed to be impressed? Shit, man, if I was some sort of dillhole ghost, I would go join a circus or something.”

“A circus?” he asked in confusion.

“Yeah. Y'know, anywhere where people actually give a shit.”

He smirked again.

“Cute, Mary. So edgy. So rebellious.”

The sound of metal scraping cut through the air as he snatched a long sharp knife from the kitchen counter. The chair on the opposite side of the table groaned as he dragged it out, swiped some unopened letters and plastic junk from its seat, and sat down.

Mary’s weary eyes focused on the knife on his hands, clutched in his fist and resting on the table in between them now. She met his gaze again. Glared at him.

“If you’re not Malcolm, I’m gonna have to give you a different name. Least you can do if want to carve me up with that pig-sticker over yonder,” Mary said, pointing at the knife in his hand.

After the gesture, using two fingers, she let her fist slam onto the table. Not a motion fueled by rage, but by frustration, and fed by resignation. All the glass and plastic objects on the table stopped clattering with delay.

“I’d prefer Malcolm, given the meat-suit I’m wearing now. But you can call me Gall,” he said. Something evil flashed in his eyes. It did not even seem inhuman, just unfamiliar. Nothing like Malcolm, no matter what kind of a dick he had been to Mary.

“What kinda stupid fucking name is that?”

His eyes darted and tracked her every movement when she swiftly snatched the crumpled pack of cigarettes off the table, produced a cancer stick from the package and lit it up in one fluid motion, suggesting decades of unfiltered addiction. From the periphery of her vision, she saw his fist tighten around the grip of the knife.

“I’ll just call you shit-stick. And what exactly are you?”

The grin on his face returned. Widened. He tilted his head; movements that did not fit the way Malcolm moved or behaved in his lifetime. Alien, unsettling. He licked his lips but did not yet respond. Like he was sizing her up. His eyes scanned up and down her form.

“Come on, man. Level with me here. I’m sure your whole spiel here is a real hoot at parties and can scare old grandmas, but it’s not really doing anything for me,” she continued taunting him. “Also, if you’re gonna threaten me with a good time by waving that knife around, either fix me something to eat or end me now. I’m starving, and also good for kicking the bucket. Fuck, man. I’d rather puke than go on my next shift, so carving me up like a turkey’s gonna feel like a favor to me at this point.”

She sucked in more smoke. It did nothing to calm her nerves, only drove up her pulse, pounding in her ears. Mary blew it out after the long pause that followed, with nothing but the constant drip of water from the faucet into the dirty sink. Malcolm—Gall—did not answer.

She lifted her arm as if to check her wristwatch but kept her gaze locked onto his. A labored, deliberate sigh escaped her throat.

“You have many names for what I am,” he said. His voice silkier than before. “Ghost, revenant, demon. It doesn’t really matter. Your words are so limited in their scope, so confusing without elaboration. And we don’t have all night.”

Now she waited, continuing to smoke. She once more picked up the bottle of the stale beer to nurse it in between greedy drags from her cigarette.

Before the pause went on for too long and she could reply with another mean-spirited quip, Gall continued, “Have you not seen the signs? I am an agent. I serve the Glass King, and have come to remind you of your duty to Him.”

He spoke with such reverence. Such gravitas. Might as well have been a radio speaker, or one of those narrators on a cheesy movie. Mary blinked and then shook her head. Searching her mind for what he meant did nothing to help.

“I don’t understand a fucking word you’re saying,” she muttered. “Try English, shit-stick.”

He visibly stifled a sigh and lifted the knife, cradling it in his hand. He then used it to point to the pile of newspapers on the counter.

“Did you not see the words forming on the edges of your trash?” he asked. Then pointed the tip of the knife to her phone on the table, its display screen marked with a spiderweb of cracks. “Did you not see the messages that transcended worldly gibberish? Signs, everywhere, pointing you in the direction of finding meaning in your sorry life?”

He then pointed to the empty coffee cups on her table. “Hell, did you not even see the letters taking shape in the foam of your beverages? And here we thought your substance abuse would make you more receptive to the signs everywhere.”

It finally clicked for Mary. She had indeed been seeing strange patterns and signs everywhere. “Obey” or “buy a gun” or some ominous instructions that seemed to be ritualistic or occult in nature—many strange words had, in fact, been appearing to her with frightening regularity over the past week.

But she had been ignoring them. Chalking it up to all the medications and booze and recreational drugs she popped on a regular basis, things that instructions in tiny print told her not to mix.

At the end of the day, Mary was a realist. One whose mind had been turned to Swiss cheese by all the substance abuse, but a realist nevertheless. The sheer thought of that gave her cottonmouth and made her crave a joint.

“If you wanted me to get some message, then fucking spell it out instead of giving me some cryptic crap. I thought I was losing my mind, and was perfectly fine with that. Now you’re telling me it all made sense, which is somehow more obnoxious.”

Gall slowly nodded and his grinning lips parted to show teeth.

“Yes, Mary, now you’re getting it. The Glass King wants you. You will help prevent the end of the world as you know it. You, who yearn for meaning in this God-forsaken world. You, whose miserable and pathetic existence can serve a higher purpose, can help shape a new world. A world of your desires. Do you not feel it? Do you not feel its pull?”

Mary downed the rest of her beer, wincing at how bad it tasted—warm, and opened up for at least a day. It helped masked whatever truths this “Gall” was alluding to.

“You really don’t get it, do ya? Listen, shit-stick, and listen really carefully, okay?”

She slammed the bottle back down onto the table with force, causing all the objects to erupt into another cascade of clanking and clattering noise. He said nothing but his gaze drilled into her eyes, burning with anticipation.

“I’ve worked shit jobs for long enough to know management assholes when I see them. And I’m looking at one right now.”

“But—”

“Shut the fuck up,” she interrupted his interruption. “I’m speaking, shit-stick. You can go back to your boss and go tell him to get fucked. I ain’t doin’ shit for no pay. You’re trying to sell me on some ‘higher meaning’ bullshit like that’s supposed to motivate me? Might as well try to pay an artist with 'exposure,’ you stupid twat.”

“I, uh—”

“I said I’m talking.”

He sat there, slack-jawed, taken aback by her forceful speech. Like the smoke billowing out of her mouth, every word spilled out with repressed rage. Not one that threatened to boil over into violence, but a fury compressed into the shape of a diamond—sharp and smooth and hard and untouchable.

“Like I said, I know management pricks when I see them. I can see your weaselly little sniveling brown-nosing turd behavior from a mile away. I know you’re just here to get me to do something and if you fail to mobilize me, you’re in deep shit. I don’t know how things work over there, wherever you’re coming from. But I’m guessing that you don’t just get a pay cut or fired,” she said.

Now she, like him, flashed a toothy grin. Sadistic, angry, and beginning to enjoy herself.

Was her first in getting to fuck with a non-human entity.

“So how about I give you the finger,” she said, following up with the matching gesture of flipping him the bird. “And you go find someone else to do your dirty work for free.”

The demon was speechless. Never before had this entity seen anybody respond with such belligerent resistance and unrelenting venom in her words.

He eked out another evil grin, but Mary recognized the insecurity in it. Malcolm used to look exactly like that when he tried to impress people, and Gall was running out of cards to play. He raised the knife again, toyed with it, letting the handle roll around in his palm, causing the blade to cast scintillating reflections in the dingy kitchen light.

“I can be very persuasive. I can make things slow and painful, Mary.”

“Oh, fuck you,” she said with a groan, stamping out the next cigarette. She just glared at him, yielding no attention to the knife now. “I see right through cheap shit tricks like that. What stupid movie did you get that line from? You need me—you need me to do something, so you’ll need me at full capacity. Your threats are empty, you spineless shit stain.”

Without missing a beat, she lit up yet another cigarette and leaned over the table, shortening the distance between her and the knife.

“Try me, motherfucker. I can’t wait to die. Life sucks, so I will spite you by dying before I lift a single God-damned finger for you or whoever the fuck you work for,” she said. Her grin widened, the cigarette lazily drooping from the corner of her mouth, displaying even more spite. “I wonder what happens to you if you fail to get me to do whatever you want me to do. I bet that’s worse than whatever kiddo crap you’ve cooked up for me.”

The chair underneath Gall creaked and its legs scuffed over the filthy floor as he got up. He backed away from her and placed the knife back on the counter.

“Yeah, get the fuck outta here, you little chickenshit. You come here, wearing my little brother’s sorry-ass face, waving a knife around, threatening to torture me and end my life? Fuck you. Don’t come back until you come up with something scary.”

Gall continued to back away. The grin never left his face, but not one inch of it was sincere anymore. Just a mask to hide his growing dread.

Everything she had said rang true. Punishments for failure were no trifling matter. The Glass King’s orders needed completion. He would have to find someone else, for this Mary was not a lost lamb they could manipulate into doing their dirty work—she was just a lost cause.

“My shift’s gonna be nine hours, asshole. You can visit me at work or you can come waste my time when I’m back, or whisper your dumb sweet nothings in my ears while I’m trying to sleep. See if I give a shit,” she said, continuing to harass the demon as he continued to back out of her kitchen. “Maybe bring good dope or a massive dragon-shaped dildo next time, maybe you can bribe me. Maybe a stack of hundred dollar bills. See, I’m responsive to material goods and pleasures. But I bet you’re too cheap of a shit for that.”

She continued to rant, even well after he had gotten out of earshot and retreated from the old decrepit home. It was true what they said, Gall thought.

Humans were the fucking worst.

—Submitted by Wratts

[roses-amet]

Questions

Xio assured both Alice and Cassius that Max will be all right in their home, despite his condition. Smiley on the other hand seemed okay with him around. It didn't seem all that bad to have someone that isn't related to the Bones family living with them. Sort of like an estranged family member from Xio's life.

While in the middle of making a sandwich, Smiley greeted Max with a weary smile. "Good morning," he greeted. "I'm Smiley Bones... Are you sure you're okay with the shed as your room?"

For a brief moment, Smiley saw Max's good eye from under his hood, before he turned away with a crooked grin. "Yes, indeed!" he replied, then munched on the sandwich in a few bites. He swallowed some water to let it go down smoothly. "I don't know if I will be staying here permanently, but I don't mind it." With his crooked grin, he turned his head to Smiley. "Aside from that, how have you been coping since Xio's husband's death?"

Smiley was taken a back, until he took a seat beside him with a frown. "You're aware of our history, aren't you?"

Max nodded his head. "Rick and Xio are very much like father and daughter, so any news that had happened to her, will go straight to him by ear, or otherwise. After all, we all had worked for Haven, and you know they have eyes and ears everywhere... except when it comes to people like Xio. Rick ordered her to retire from Haven, to spend time with you, and the rest of the family, which is quite... something, let me tell you that."

Smiley tilted his head as he barely understood what he had meant. He is not very familiar with how Haven worked, aside from bits and pieces of information that Xio told him of her experience. They are just a secret organization, working on exterminating these beings called Abominations.

Something else that Smiley doesn't exactly have an understanding of either.

"You're confused," Max pointed out. "Did Xio ever tell you?"

Smiley shook his head with pursed lips. "Not to me... only to Renny."

"Ah, so she told her husband... well, anyway, that doesn't matter. Haven is behind us, along with the death of Renny Bones... so, let's move on from this topic then." Max clicked his long black fingers on the counter. "You aren't married to Xio, right?"

Smiley blinked before he immediately shook his head. "No! That would be... wrong..."

"Right, but, you both are foster parents to the red dragon like... child..." Max paused as he tried to remember her name. "The bitey one... what was her name again?"

"Nersillia?"

Max snapped his fingers. "Yes, Nersillia! So, you're both her foster parents, right? No problems there? Are you sure you don't hold any romantic feelings for Xio?"

Smiley took in a deep breath as Max seemed to be getting a bit too forward with his questions. "Listen, Max, I don't know why you want to know, but let me say this - Xio and I are just friends. After what happened with Renny, I can't forgive myself, and Xio might still be holding a grudge against me, but it seems that things are amicable between us for the time being. I don't want this to mess up, for Nersillia's sake, as well as everyone involved. So, please, stop prodding your nose into our business."

Max grin grew wider, revealing his discolored sharp teeth. "Okay, okay, I get it, I won't ask anymore questions. I was just wondering, that is all. Honestly, there are so many questions I want to ask, and I am just... excited to know more about this life of Xio's... It's... peaceful, to say the least."

Smiley raised a brow as he noticed that Max seemed saddened by that fact. "Does it bother you?"

Max chuckled lowly. "I'm jealous, so yes, it does... but, I don't want it to eat me, you know? Up until now, I've only known how difficult life is, being something that is not a human, or an abomination. I'm just... abnormal. I am something that Haven doesn't know what they should do about. We're much more human than an abomination, but aren't human enough to be placed among society... so, we hide. Hide, hunt, and survive..."

Smiley blinked. "Hunt? What do you mean by hunt?"

Max picked at his clawed finger nails as he continued, "Abominations love the taste of human meat... and so do abnormals... but, some of us, like me, don't want to eat humans. Personally, I think I will lose any sense of humanity I have left if I do... even if cannibalism can be considered 'normal' in some parts of the world." He shrugged. "Anyway, I'd rather not deal with that, so I eat animals. If you see a missing poster of a pet, most likely, I have digested it."

Smiley shook his head in disbelief. "So you eat pets..."

"It's one way to live... not a great way, but good enough. But, boy, am I glad that Haven found me and let me lived with them. They made pretty good food, even though my taste had changed since I've become an abnormal." Max chuckled. "And now, look where I am now. Right in Xio's home, with her lovely family that wants my head on a platter..."

Smiley snorted. "Yeah, that's Cassius and Alice for you... but, they aren't bad, as long as they serve under both Xio and Scarlet's service."

"Scarlet?"

"Ah, you haven't met Scarlet? Well, she is now the master of the Bones family, since Renny's... death..." Smiley paused. "She takes care of special business that Xio can't, since Scarlet knows more about Renny's secrets, than Xio does..."

"Wait, Scarlet knows more about Renny than Xio does? Even though Xio and Renny were married?"

Smiley sighed as he rested his head against his hand. Memories of the past flashed through his mind. Vague, blurry images of years that he shared with Renny. "Scarlet was Renny's first wife..."

"Oh."

Smiley hummed thoughtfully. "Scarlet is... eccentric, but she knows how to do business. Xio on the other hand... well, she is just another person that Renny came across... It's... weird, thinking back on it..." He shut his eyes as the memories became clearer. He remembered Renny and Xio's wedding day, and the day when Smiley took in Nersillia. He was just a split personality of Renny's, but there had been plenty of friends that had stuck by Renny, until his death.

And then Xio, as distraught as she was about losing her husband, wanted to search for Smiley himself. Not to kill him, but to bring him back into her life, even though, he was the one who killed her husband.

At least he believed he killed him. He wasn't sure anymore since the incident.

But, Xio fought hard to find him, so they can be a proper family with Nersillia. Even if they weren't romantically involved, Smiley was still important to Xio, for Nersillia's sake.

Since then, Xio was forced to retire from Haven, and has lived with Cassius, Alice, Nersillia, and Smiley, in this two floor house.

That was fine by her, as long as her family is safe.

"Seems like you got a lot on your mind, Mr. Bones," Max said, catching his attention. "I'm going to head out now... I also see your kid hiding behind the wall there." He pointed at Nersillia, as she stared at the two men, while trying her best to hide from them. He remembered he bit her at one point, and the poor girl was disgusted by the flavor of rotten meat.

So disgusted she chewed on Cassius' hand for nearly two weeks.

"See you, Mr. Bones."

"You can call me Smiley, Max."

"Really? Well, all right then, Smiley. Have fun." With that, Max left the kitchen to return to the shed.

[edmund-valks]

Ilandreline - Fun in the Sun

(( The Call - A Compound Beginning - Just One Cookie - Soul Food ))

Her limbs felt too heavy, her tongue too large for her mouth.  There was a mild sensation of having been sunburnt over her entire body -- kind of weird, that, given how she never went outside remotely close to naked -- but it probably wasn't life-threatening.  She was very, very thirsty, though.  "Water?"  Even croaking a single word was painful.  Hopefully there was someone around to hear.

For the moment, the only sounds Ila experienced were the dull roar of nothing, like the aftermath of being too close to an explosion.  Again, probably not life-threatening; she knew that sort of thing happened when you were certain kinds of unhealthy.  There was no doubt in her mind that she was in a state of dubious health after her long trip.  She was still piecing memories back together, but the muscle aches suggested she'd been overworking herself for days, possibly weeks.  "Fuhhnnng taimlayshn."  The words weren't quite as intended.  Close enough.

Something was in her mouth then.  Maybe a finger?  Hopefully not a dirty one.  Then a little liquid happened instead.  Water?  Water!  Or near-water; whatever it was felt like a cool drink but also burned all the way down.  Not like alcohol, either, like… cinnamon syrup?  Was that a thing?  She flinched as she swallowed, but the expression was hidden behind her goggles.

"-s that?"  Sound returned suddenly, crystallizing from the static.  "Are you still with us, mortal?  Can you hear me?"

Ilandreline forced her eyes open to slits.  The sky was overhead, viciously bright.  "Fuhhh," she growled, more by reflex than intention.  Her throat hurt, but speech was easier.  Whatever they'd given her was apparently helping.  "I… hear you.  Not dead.  Yet."  Was that a sigh of relief?  And was that some kind of whistling hoot?  Maybe her hearing wasn't totally back.

"Very good.  You did not arrive as expected.  We were very worried, especially as the darkness you emerged from continues to cling to your soul in… unusual ways."  The speaker had a lovely voice, rich and resonant and crystal-delicate.  "You were very lucky to arrive here at all.  How you even survived your journey… that is a tale I would be most interested to hear."

While her eyes slowly adjusted to the constant pain of ambient light, Ila made them focus on the speaker.  They -- she? -- was surprisingly blue, though otherwise humanoid if one ignored the bird wings.  She was wearing white and gold, both too bright to look directly at, in what appeared to be something she'd once heard described as a chiton.  Maybe.  Her knowledge of history was very good for a Glimmerbow child, but they were on the whole not great with the subject since most of their books were centuries out of date or first translations from other tongues.

"Luck," she forced out as her answer.  It wasn't even a lie.  "Nearly… didn't."  Something about all this brilliance made her suspect she shouldn't mention how much blood had been involved.  Or how much hadn't been her own.

She could see the drink now, tilted her head a bit to make it easier on her caretaker.  Whatever it was smelled… antiseptic.  Like viciously unforgiving essence of pine shoved into pure ethanol.  That explained the burning, at least.  Didn't clarify how or why she might actually feel better for having consumed it, but she'd settle for any answers.

After choking down the molten-gold elixir and weathering the unpleasantness of its effects, Ilandreline exhaled slowly.  Time to ask questions.  Almost time, rather; first she had to sit up.  Spots flared through her vision as she raised her head, even more when she propped herself up on her forearms.

"Don't-!"

She ignored the alarm, forcing her body increasingly upright until she was more or less sitting.  It still took both arms to stay there, but she could feel sensation returning to her fingertips.  Good enough.  "Thank you for… helping me."  That was a polite way to start, wasn't it?  "Would you mind telling me where I am, though?"

Shock registered on the azure face.  "You… you're in Bastion.  Home of the sworn and dedicated.  Realm of the Kyrian."  Something about Ila's expression must have shown her lack of understanding, because the winged woman rushed on.  "This is where souls go who will defend the Way and the Purpose, and shepherd others along their path to ascension."

"Uh.  Okay then."  Whatever that meant, it sounded very important to this blue person.  It also sounded like the opposite of a fun way to spend an afterlife.  "What if I don't know what any of that means?  Is that going to be a problem with my… being here?"

"Of course not."  She passed Ilandreline a fist-sized orange-skinned fruit.  "Here, if you can sit, you can eat.  Purian will restore what ambroria dew does not."

The spheroid looked good, but it tickled her nostrils with the faint scents of something left too long.  Slightly rotten, perhaps.  It wouldn't do to offend her host, though, especially when she'd arrived unannounced and mostly dead.  "Maybe… tell me about you and this, uh, Bastion stuff while I eat?"

"Oh, of course.  I am Trenasophe, a forgelite of the Kyrian."  She paused.  "Right, you don't know what that means.  I forget what it was like to be newly arrived here, for I've spent so long emptying myself of all that kept me bound.  Please, though, help yourself to food and drink while I explain."

Ilandreline has little interest in the goods on offer, though she forced herself to consume them.  Starving to death was not going to help anyone, even if having her insides lightly seared and filled with rotten fruit wasn't very fun.  Hopefully there were other dishes somewhere.  Meat would be good, even better if it wasn’t spoiled.

“The Kyrian are souls who serve the order of the Shadowlands and preserve it against those that would disrupt it.  This realm, Bastion, is where we live.  It is here we guide new aspirants on their journey to become what they were meant to be.  The way is rarely easy or swift, but little of value ever is.

“As a forgelite, my purpose is to build and maintain.  The things that surround, shelter, and guard us are not eternal, but with our efforts they will appear so for eternity.  We create and preserve, and what has been broken we seek to repair.  All things have their place in the Purpose, and it is the forgelites who guide them into shape.”

In an effort to ignore the protestations of her stomach, the elf gave these philosophical ramblings more attention than she normally would.  It didn’t make sense in the slightest, but again -- she was a guest.  Saying the whole system sounded like a load of post-processing guano would be the pinnacle of rudeness; she restrained herself to merely thinking it very loudly.  Perhaps the subject could be changed to something more interesting?  “I know some things about building, too.  What kind of stuff do you make?  Any fun machines?”

If she’d been worried there was no emotion among these creatures, that question put her concerns to rest.  Trenasophe’s lips turned up, parting into a grin.   The brightness of her teeth was only matched by the gleam in her eyes.  “I make everything,” she said with a breathlessness Ila could appreciate.  “I have learned what I did not already know and shed the bad habits learned in life.  From the most massive work of stone to clockwork so delicate I cannot hold the components in my own hands, I do it all.  Which is not to say that I have mastered them yet -- there is none among us who can match the Forgelite Prime -- but perhaps someday I will, if that is how I am allowed to serve.  Is that then why you are here?  You have come to trade your knowledge for ours?”

It was a very convenient answer.  She probably should have gone for it.  “Actually, no, I’m here because this is where the road I was on threw me out.  But that sure sounds like fun.  Maybe you can teach me anyway?”

“You… did not know where you would arrive?”

Ila laughed, immediately regretting it as the rawness of her throat flared up.  “I didn’t even know if I would arrive, much less where.  All I knew was I had a pretty good idea I could get to the Shadowlands if I traveled a certain way.  Pretty glad it worked, honestly, because otherwise I’d probably be dead.”

The Kyrian blinked twice.  “If you did not know that you would make it, nor did you know your likely destination, why did you come at all?  How does this fit in with your… purpose?”

“Oh, you know, normal mortal reasons.  My grandmother was concerned about the hole in the sky on our home plane, wanted to make sure the multiverse wasn’t unraveling.  She can’t really travel these days, so she sent me.”  She smugly bit into a new purian without thinking.  Not shrieking as she swallowed took all the effort she could muster.  Doing her best to ignore the sandpaper in her throat, Ilandreline forced a smile.  “We knew there was a thinness in one of the near-planes that had contact with the Shadowlands, so it was just a matter of getting to the right part and, you know, poking a little hole through.”

Trenasophe’s brow furrowed.  “You arrived through the remnants of a planar tear from one of the most devastating assaults Bastion has ever witnessed.  Some of our greatest still bear scars from that time.  How did you survive passing through such a place?”

Shit.  Okay, time to… not lie without being too honest, right?  “It… was pretty much empty when I went through.  Didn’t see a single living thing other than myself the whole time, unless you count the blood-plants.”

“Blood-plants?”

“Yeah, red spiky things, like an aloe, but they’re full of some kind of blood jelly.  They’re not good for much except hurting yourself.”

“I… see.”  She clearly did not, and Ila had no interest in pressing her about the fib.  “How long did your journey take?  You seemed close to death when you emerged.”

She shrugged.  “No idea.  Time doesn’t work right in that place.  I thought I had enough food and water for, like, a week?  Ran out of food real fast, then water a little later, and am not exactly sure I slept other than that one time with the cookie.”

Again the Kyrian made a noise of acknowledgement without understanding.  Ilandreline hurried on before too much thinking happened.  “Anyway, thanks for helping me out.  Really appreciate it, you know, and I’d love to talk about building things just as soon as I pass out for, I don’t know, a month.”

That much Trenasophe did understand.  She smiled, rested a large hand on the elf’s shoulder.  “Yes, rest seems quite reasonable, even if your estimate of the duration is clear hyperbole.  My steward and I shall watch over you, ensure your needs are met.  All I ask in return at this moment is a name to call you by.”

“Vondariel,” she said with a smile.  Nobody outside her family knew her sister’s name -- well, maybe Miss Winford did, but good luck getting anything from her -- so it seemed a safe one to steal.  “But you can call me Von if that’s easier.”

A nod.  “Very well, Von.  Sleep in peace, knowing you are safe at last.  I look forward to helping you achieve your purpose.”

Nothing ominous about that…  Ilandreline’s eyes closed against the awful brilliance, her recuperating body descending into unconsciousness as soon as it was horizontal.

[mountphoenixrp]

We have a new citizen in Mount Phoenix:

                                Kim Hyojong, who is known by no other name;                                                        a 23 year old son of Set.                                                       He is a bartender at Minx.

FC NAME/GROUP: Kim Hyojong // Pentagon CHARACTER NAME: n/a AGE/DATE OF BIRTH: 23 // june 1, 1993 PLACE OF BIRTH: vienna, austria OCCUPATION: bartender @ minx HEIGHT: 174 cm WEIGHT: 60 kg DEFINING FEATURES: pitch black & emotionless eyes, dark under eye circles

PERSONALITY: hello, welcome to the worst person you’ll ever meet, following closely behind his own father. kim hyojong is a lovely young man with a penchant for…dark habits.

detached, cold, emotionless ━ except when he isn’t. silver tongued with equally velvet fingers, the son of chaos has a talent of playing the role of any character to get his victims anyone to bend to his will. mask after mask, he slips them on and off with ease. if you manage to look past the seductive smirk and wandering hands, and find the flicker of pure void…well, sweetheart, you won’t be alive for very long.

just enough to see him tower over you with the only flicker of true joy in those pitch black eyes as he watches you writhe on the floor in terror and pain until you pass out from shock. it’s as if he feeds on the fear. makes him stronger.

he feels no remorse, and doesn’t care to think about it. why should he? everyone is below him. worthless. trash. just play toys for him. hyojong wants everything in the world, and he will do anything to get that. to him, he’s a god. he plays with mortal lives as if they’re nothing, as if the people around only have one purpose: to serve him.

hyojong’s done terrible things; torture, murders of varying styles and i wouldn’t put it past him to force himself on one or two people. a short and very general list of things that he is quite proud of.

personal relationships are nonexistent in his world, simply a waste of his time. anything resemblance of one is either a ploy to get what he wants, or ━ yeah, no, that’s it.

he thinks he is a god. he is a god. he is the one true god. all other gods are weaklings that he could crush in a matter of seconds.

this is a lie. hyojong is spiraling down into insanity that worsens with every second that he uses his powers. he’s dying, and he doesn’t realize it. the son of set is an immature, foolish child that parades behind a facade of confidence and the cool venom of a snake. if a single thing doesn’t go his way, hyojong will throw terrible fits that are not unlike a two year old. he’s exceptionally physically weak, and it’s easy to scare him off.

a wilting and rotten rose hidden in the mottled husk of a snake.

HISTORY: (tw: murder, animal abuse, torture, mentions of rape)

I. a mother weeps as she holds her child for the first time. it is a sob of a despair, drops of bitter salt at the sight of the creature in her arms. it stares at its creator silently.

his name is hyojong, and he is a curse. the ever present reminder of a stroke of black ink across her past.

he does not release a cry, nor does he reach out for his sobbing mother. the infant simply stares.

he knows of his purpose.  

II. the son of chaos is three years old when he makes his first kill. it’s a small, sad pathetic thing that hangs lifeless in his hands. a kitten, he thinks. the incessant sounds it made had irked him to no end, and hyojong found a solution. he does not understand why his mother is screaming. he wishes she would shut up.

III. gabriel schmidt is his name; the man that manage to charm and seduce his way into the bed of hyojong’s mother. in some way, hyojong can understand why his mother is so willing to drop her panties for the first man that gives her any attention. it’s been ten years since the last time she got fucked. ten years since he’s been born.

he hates him.

he hates everything about him.

how dare he insert himself into hyojong’s life? without his permission.

hyojong would have preferred if the man got his dick wet once and walked away without a regret. the loud sobbing of his mother would be a grating sound, but the bitter scent of despair and sadness would be intoxicating. instead, all he could smell was the sickly sweet syrup of love.

the pile of dead animals in the backyard grows larger each week.

IV. he sees the way his mother stares at him.

MISTAKE MISTAKE MISTAKE

hyojong stares back with eyes that speak of chaos and darkness and death. he smiles.

EVIL EVIL EVIL

his mother does not look him in the eye.

V. mina schmidt is her name; the squealing red-faced thing that apparently shares blood with him. hyojong looks at it with disgust, sneering down at the wriggling baby. he doesn’t know why his mother looks at it with such adoration; she’s never looked at him that way.

the next day he writes out his sister’s name on the side of the house in the blood of mutilated birds. love thy family.

hyojong laughs at the screams that erupt from his mother and her husband as they discover the bloody message on their home; he savors the fear that seeps from their souls. the boy finds that it is the most delicious thing he has ever tasted.

he decides that he wants more.

VI. the sight of the girl curled on the floor before him is the greatest he’s ever had the pleasure to lay his eyes on. tears are streaming down her face, expression twisted in agony as she screams out. she’s begging him for mercy, and hyojong simply smiles at her.

lifeless, pitch black eyes suddenly come to life.

he would be lying if the waves of pure terror rolling off the girl didn’t turn him on. the tightness in his pants give it away as he watches her claw at his feet, offering up anything to make him stop. it’s pathetic, how people are willing to give away their dignity in order to save their own skin. besides, hyojong knows that he wouldn’t be able to stop; the swirls of chaos around him have already latched on to the girl and they’ve tasted the first blood. it’s too late.

it’s oh so easy to slip into the depths of her mind and bring out the deepest fears and sins to light. claws prod and poke at her thoughts, suffocating her until all she can breathe, see, and hear is fear.

hyojong twists and squeezes her mind to his will, melting it into putty until finally his grip on her lets go. she’s laying in a puddle of her own piss and tears. he cocks his head to the side, lips curling into a smirk.

❝ do you fear me now? ❞

she vomits and passes out.

and hyojong ━ a realization dawns upon him. he has the power to do what he wants; to terrorize and raze the earth. take and take and take until everything is his, because who can stop him? he is god.

thus begins the fall.

VII. hyojong is eighteen now.

his body count: 12

those were only the ones who weren’t strong enough to make it through the enlightenment. that’s what the son of chaos calls it ━ diving deep into mortal ears and twisting and turning and feeding on their terror until the only thing they wish for is death, and the only person who can give them that sweet mercy is him. until he becomes both their savior and greatest fear.

❝ do you fear me now? ❞

THE ENLIGHTENMENT.

A GOD.

OBEY.

VIII. his family is next. hyojong can barely scrounge up any love for them; it’s a disgusting concept: love.

it’s all too simple.

gabriel, with his mind so easy to mold and play with. he whispers to the man in his sleep, sleek claws sinking into the brain of a pathetic mortal.

KILL KILL KILL

hyojong goes deeper.

MURDER MURDER MURDER

and everything snaps.

IX. BREAKING NEWS ; MAN MURDERS WIFE AND DAUGHTER IN RAGE

this is channel ten with breaking news. police reports have confirmed that forty three year old gabriel schmidt went into a flying rage and brutally stabbed his wife and eight year old daughter twenty times each. afterwards, he took his own life.

we have updates that there was a single survivor.

his stepson, hyojong kim.

X. it has been five years. he’s fucked and killed his way to the top, manipulating everyone around him until he’s filthy rich and swimming in luxury. chaos has unfurled from deep within, taking root as a deep and vile disease. the son of chaos has long been rotting from the inside out, doing as he pleases as a modern god.

he’s traveled the world, leaving a wake of sin and utter wickedness ━ and he can’t get enough.

hyojong has just been reaching the peak of boredom, until he finds a particularly interesting new victim friend. in a state of panic and desperation, the boy quickly calls himself a son of aphrodite. hyojong pauses in curiosity; a demigod? he’s heard of the myths, but tossed them as frivolous fairy tales.

another prod of the sniveling boy’s brain confirms the truth; a whole island full of….immortals and half-immortals alike. for the first time in a very long time, hyojong finds himself excited. fresh meat.

and perhaps a way to get himself truly enlightened.

LOOK TO YOUR KINGDOMS

I AM COMING FOR THEM ALL

PANTHEON: egyptian CHILD OF: set POWERS:

chaos manipulation : the power to manipulate the chaotic forces of the universe

001. chaos inducement: cause chaos in any scale, from minor disorder, confusion and/or disobedience, up to causing massive storms, destruction, loss of laws and order to cause mass panic, etc.

002. chaos empowerment: become stronger, faster, more durable, etc. by/from chaos

emotion manipulation: the power to manipulate emotions

001. fear: manipulate the fear of people, animals and other creatures, whether by increasing, causing or otherwise channeling fear

002. anxiety: manipulate the anxiety of people, animals and other creatures, whether by increasing, causing or otherwise channeling anxiety

003. insanity: manipulate the insanity of people, animals and other creatures, whether by increasing, causing or otherwise channeling insanity

mental manipulation : the power to manipulate thoughts, mindsets, and upper brain functions of others.

001. this ability is highly limited, and only applies to his before mentioned abilities. he is able to slip into the minds of others to see their deepest fears to manipulate them to his will; though if a mental barrier is too strong, he will not be able to invade the mind. if that is the case, hyojong is able to cause and manipulate fear, but isn’t able to see what exactly his victim’s fear is.

002. by slipping into their mind, he is able to whisper certain encouragements amongst other things to toy with his playthings

STRENGTHS: + eloquent and charming + highly manipulative, he’s able to smoothly exploit and control almost anyone + quite the actor, hyojong can put on any mask to play whatever game he wants to achieve the end whatever the means

WEAKNESSES: - falling into a spiral of insanity that will soon make him lose his grip on reality - terribly power hungry, which may be his downfall - an immature child that throws fits whenever things don’t go his way

[magicalworldweb]

It’s that time again!  This week’s Interview with the Author stars the Amazing Susan Rooke!  Susan is my neighbor on Twitter, but later I found out that she’s my state neighbor, too!  Susan writes smart and scary stuff.  You might want to read during the day, or at the very least, next to a bright lamp.  I read her first book several months ago.  When she approached me about reading her second book ahead of publication, I pounced on the opportunity.  Thanks again, Susan!

Susan’s books offer a new look at angels and demons and the creatures beneath.  Book 2 released this week, and I’d love to share my review of it with you:

In Susan Rooke’s first book, The Space Between: The Prophecy of Faeries, no time is lost in whisking Mellis to a new land of misshaped creatures. Mellis discovers exactly why she is being kept in a mysterious house, unlocks the history of the inhabitants, and discovers part of her own past. Throughout the book, we are given glimpses, detailed and grisly, of the Realm Below.

In the The Realm Below: The Rise of Tanipestis, the order is reversed, and we get to find out what has happened in both realms after the end of the first book. There are fallen angels, dragons, characters in disguise, a fight for supremacy, and the natural happenings of life in the lands Susan has expertly designed.

One of my favorite things about The Realm Below is the chance to go deeper with the characters. In the first book I met them, and began to get to know them. In the second, I got the chance to dive in deeper with multiple characters and understand them better. We also get to know the house better, and the lands surrounding. There are even hints about further lands and people. It’s just enough to give a taste and make you hope the third book takes us on a further adventure!

The second book jumps right into the adventure and intrigue, and continues the well-crafted weaving of beauty and grotesque. A creature has awakened after its master’s disappearance, and life will not be able to go on as before.

Susan Rooke has taken the theme of angels and demons and done a fantastic job of producing a world that has just enough nod to the familiar while telling a story that is distinctive and remarkable. It’s a strong middle book that satisfies the wondering left over from the first book, and launches you into the space after, where I will be ready and waiting until the next book is released!

I have greatly enjoyed getting to know Susan on twitter.  She shares great recipes (Yes, I’ve tried some!), has promised to write a cookbook just for me (jk…mostly), and shares her beautiful photography.  Also, she has a great sense of humor.

Have you found her on Goodreads and Amazon yet?  We can pause real quick so you can do that.  Here are the gorgeous covers of her books:

    Now, on to learning more about Susan!

  Introduce yourself.  Name.  Nickname.    Susan Rooke. No middle name. I’ve had several nicknames over the years (“Rookie,” “Monkey Arms”), but my favorite is still the one my older brother (by 8 years) came up with when I was just a little girl. He called me “Bug,” because I was an annoying little sister; I bugged him. And it stuck. In time I became “Aunt Bug” to his kids. 

If your Wi-Fi name was a reflection of you, what would it be? WhenIGetAroundtoIt. I’m an awful procrastinator.

What personality trait has gotten you into the most trouble?  Probably the mistaken notion that I’m going to last forever, so what’s the rush?

What genre (of collection) do you write in and why?  I write all sorts of poetry, but the fiction I write (short stories and novels) is always speculative. I don’t know why, though, because I read in any genre.

Who is important to you?  My family and friends. Plus our animals: Australian Shepherd Lucy; our part Maine Coon Phoebe, aka Tatonka or Jabba the Catt [oh lord, here she comes now. It must be time to feed her again]; and our dear grandcat, Tsuki.

Where do you call home?  Central Texas.

What books are/have you written?  The Space Between: The Prophecy of Faeries, and The Realm Below: The Rise of Tanipestis (which is brand new, even as we speak). I’ve just started writing the third book in the series.

If you are having a rotten day, what do you do to conquer that?  If it’s not something that I’ll probably find humor in eventually, I just try to soldier through. Then that evening, I’ll pour myself a stiff highball and turn to my husband Glen for solace. Poor man! (He gets a stiff highball too.)

If you were invisible for a day, what would you do?  I’d walk our property trying to get some incredible, close-up nature photographs without nature being any the wiser.

Your life is made into a musical.  What is the title of at least one of the songs?  “Better Late Than Never”

What are your sleeping habits?  Nonhabitual. The lack of consistent sleep is annoying. And fatigue makes my lazy eye skew a bit, which is weird.

What would you name your boat?  The Slithy Tove

What’s your biggest kitchen disaster?  At bedtime one night I was prepping a 14 lb. brisket for Glen to put in the smoker at 5A.M. the next morning. I had the brisket in the kitchen sink and was hauling it out of its vacuum-wrap using a pigsticker: a sharp steel skewer with the pointy end curlicued like a pig’s tail. I was tired and not paying close enough attention. The pointy end wasn’t all the way in the meat. It ripped loose and flew up and hit me in the forehead, right above the bridge of my nose. This was followed by a trip to the ER, a tetanus shot and some glue to close the wound. I was lucky not to lose an eye.

Tell me about one of your characters.  Would you get along in real life?  I can’t pick just one to tell you about. When I tried, they all came crowding into my head, wanting to have their say. I’m grateful to have their trust, and it’s an honor to be able to record their stories. (Don’t tell any of them, but Lugo is my favorite and we would get on famously!)

If you were arrested with no explanation, what would your friends and family assume you had done?  They would assume it was a case of mistaken identity. I haven’t even had a speeding ticket since 1984.

What are your favorite clothes to wear?  Around the house, T-shirts and knee-length yoga pants, or fleecy long pants and long-sleeved henleys in cooler weather. Running errands, jeans and linen blouses.

If someone asked to be your apprentice and learn all that you know, what would they end up learning?  They’d learn how to put off until tomorrow what they could have easily done today. And then how to freak out over it. There’d also be some cooking, baking, cocktailing and playing Cards Against Humanity.

What are your future writing plans?  There will be at least a third book in the Space Between series. As for a fourth, I don’t know. I’m not a fast writer, and the books are somewhat intricate, requiring my careful thought and close attention because of their interweaving storylines and timelines. I’ll continue to write poems and short stories/flash fiction. And there’s always the possibility that there’ll be another book that’s not in the series.

What’s one thing you absolutely adore in life?  Leaving aside beloved people and pets, I absolutely adore Glen’s barbecue pit. It’s a combination grill and smoker. After much research, he designed and built it in his shop, working late several nights a week for months. With this contraption and his mad pitmaster skills, he makes the best Texas-style barbecued brisket and pork ribs I’ve ever tasted. No barbecue sauces, no fancy dry rubs. Just salt and pepper, heat, time and smoke.

What is one of your pet peeves?  Hearing people end their sentences with “at.” “Where are you at?”

You’re in the middle of a wizarding duel.  What animal do you transfigure into?  Why be an animal when you can be a cosmic entity? Cthulhu, of course!

Would you survive if you were a character in your own books?  Maybe. If I got too gabby, the author might kill me off just to shut me up.

You are putting on a dinner party.  What do you serve and who do you invite?  The weather would be mild, low 70s, with just enough cloud cover as the sun sinks, and a soft breeze. We’d be eating outside on the patio, digging in to Glen’s brisket and pork ribs, or, for the pescatarians, grilled swordfish with lemon juice, olive oil, garlic and capers, prepared on the grill side of the pit. There would be sides: a gratin of potatoes, a cucumber-cherry tomato-kalamata olive salad and feather-light yeasty rolls. A selection of cocktails and beers/wines. Coffee macadamia brickle ice cream for dessert. And everyone we love would be there. Including a handful who can’t be there under any circumstances anymore.

Would you rather relive the same day for 365 days or lose a year of your life?  I can’t relive the same day for 365 days. I wouldn’t be here at the end of that time anyway, so I might as well pick the other option.

You are transported to one of your favorite books.  Where are you?  I’m in T.H. White’s The Sword in the Stone. Learning, as the Wart did, how to live as different creatures under the instruction of Merlyn and his owl, Archimedes.

  For even more fun information on Susan Rooke, check out her blog where you’ll find amazing pictures like this one:

It was hard to choose just one of her pictures to share.  This wasn’t my favorite, but it was up there.  Thanks so much Susan for your time and for the great books you’ve written!

  Live Bravely, Love Strongly, AEM

  P.S.  Imaginary Bonus points if you correctly guess my favorite picture on the Shutterbugging page of her blog.  Ready, Set, Go!

Interview with the Author: Susan Rooke It's that time again!  This week's Interview with the Author stars the Amazing Susan Rooke!  Susan is my neighbor on Twitter, but later I found out that she's my state neighbor, too!  

[thekillerqueen1945-blog]

I AM YOUR FUTURE

CHAPTER 4 

  Egyptians

That previous argument was predictable. Life and Death are always competing with each other. It like a marathon, but Death always jumps up beside the Life, ending its stubborn race again and again, into infinity.  

 This time I decided to spoke first before the argument could break out.

" May I suggest another story. Perhaps something about the Egyptians."

" Egyptians are very intriguing and mysterious people. They are one of the few human civilisations; I consider unborn." Responded Life full of new fresh hope and energy

" Go ahead, darling. I am quite fond of Egyptians, too. They were, after all, one of the first civilisation that was reckoning time." Added Time in its forever relaxed yet distant voice.

I begin, completely excited about the story I will tell

“ Egypt is an ancient land, 95% of the desert with the longest river in the world running through it, encompasses a 6000-year-old culture that is both mysterious and the world has known, posing the questions that even world´s greatest experts cannot find the explanation too. "

" Only human call each other experts. The truth is that they know, only a fragment of the internal truths," commented Life,  great wonderer, wisely.

 "Since the establishment of this joined kingdom by King Narmer around 3150 BC, Egypt has been the scene on which a long history of invasions expansion, huge building outcomes and scientific, philological and medical discoveries obtained throughout nine significant periods which are sub-divided into more than 20 dynasties. All this shaped the people and the land in ways that many intelligence still can barely understand. “

 " Fancy words will not make you less boring, on the contrary, dear, they will make you hard to listen. Do not use words like those again, or you shall kill me by apathy." and with those words, Life is back to its old unsatisfying bratty self

"It is unclear when precisely early humanoids arrived in Egypt. The most major migration of humanoids out of Africa took place almost 2 million years ago, with modern humans dispersing out of Africa about 100,000 years ago. Egypt may have been used as a way to reach Asia in some of these many migrations." I continued talking about Egypt while rolling my eyes at Life.

 "Villages dependent on the agriculture began to appear in Egypt about 7,000 years ago, and the civilisation's earliest written inscriptions and documents dated back about 5,200 years ago, and they discuss the first rulers of Egypt. " I was interrupted by my Father.

 "Egyptians themselves long referred to their united country as tawy, meaning "two lands", and later used the word Kemet, or "black land", a reference to the fertile black soil of the Nile river delta. Haha, my memory still rusty like the old clocks, although I am much older than those human inventions" Added Time, spreading his joyful mood to all of us.

    "Nile was a vital part of the life for these ancient people. Almost every aspect of their life depended on the Nile and water diversions. Every year in July Nile would spill out, flooding around and people would plant the crop on the fertile mud which was left by the river after it retrieved. It was a serious crime if somebody messes around the river channels which were bringing the water to the vegetables. They saw a river as the magical, divine presence. The magic, moving, living part of the Earth itself. Maybe they were not wrong about that after all. To show admiration and respect for the river, that provides and supplies them all by things necessary for humanity. " It is like the mother, it knows where you been, what you have done. It knows what you need and gives you that, although it knows your sins. The river does not care about that, it just gives and goes on, into the wonderful journey called life show. The Nile can sometimes speak to you, if you sit silently beside it, you will hear it. Silent voice whispering to your soul " It is going to be all right”.

 "Life of the Egyptians developed more than just on river banks, regardless of its irreplaceable importance. Life consists of clothes, makeup, jeweller, feasts, festivities, hunt, games, schooling and funerals. " I stooped waiting for someone to say something, it is like I am expecting to be interrupted, but the Silence had its form now.

"Egyptians wore thin and light clothes. Men wore tiny dresses, and the woman used long dresses with covers. It is interesting how something simple as a dress can change so much through history. Not only its shape, colour and material from which is made has changed, but also the cover style has changed. Once it was socially acceptable and even preferable for a man to wear a dress, while in the 21st century it is only socially acceptable if a woman wears a dress. If I wear a dress, it would be weird and unusual or a decrease.  There is one other thing that can be unusual for the 21st century and was normal for Egyptians. Both men and woman wore makeup. The richer people even wore wigs and neckless made of gold and precious stones. " at that moment, as usual, I am interrupted, by Life again.

"Unusual was the tradition that kids usually walked naked.  Regarding their hair, boys had to be bold with one strand of hair left, and girls wore pigtails. If you ask me, people were ugly then and they are not any better now. Moreover, I meant it on both inside and outside. I do not know how they can live life with themselves and whenever they look at the mirror not see the ugliness and rottenness. They must be blind." Spoke Life as critically assaulting humans.

" You may be right, but that gives you no right to act with such disrespect towards our protectees. You are young and naive. However, even I, old and powerful as I am, cannot be the judge of everyone and everything. We are no Gods; we are similar reflections of God creation." Infinity suggested with severe everlasting voice.

 Before I continued, I let Silence take the throne once again, so all can befall the deepness of those words.

 "Ever present distension between the rich and poor existed in Ancient Egypt as well.  Poor people lived in small wooden houses, but many lived without one at all. Some were slaves. Rich people lived in the houses built of clay, dried on the sun, with the wooden roof. Earth walls and floors were painted and covered with weed. The family was sleeping in the back side of the house or, at summer, on the roof. They had a bathroom and the toilet as well, although not as similar the 21st-century models. Rich people made great feasts including a lot of foods and drinks that were served by the slaves. The guests had pieces of Scented Ornament on their heads, enclosed with a beautiful fragrance. Guests were entertained by the singers, dancers, acrobats, players and jugglers. "

" It is sad. Rich will get richer in the hell of the poor and poor will get worse battling the war of the riches. The gap between the two always gets bigger and bigger, even the child´s cries can now be heard from abyss created." These words left the Infinity lifeless like the fallen soldiers after their last march.

It was ghastly for Infinity to acts like this, but I guess this topic is sombre. It is dark especially for us that have to look at it till the end of existence. It is hard, to see so much injustice and pain, but worst of all is that even the smartest, poorest and reaches are all ignorant. They walk through life similar to blind madmen, making the same mistakes again, again and repeatedly.

 “Difference between rich and poor was seen in education as well. Most of the children did not go to school. The boy learned their father's crafts, and girls attended their mother's housework.  Children of the wealthy inhabitants went to school. They learned to read and write on papyrus. They used picture letter - the hieroglyphs. One picture sometimes meant a message and sometimes a word.

 In their free time, Egyptians hunted or played games.  On the land, they killed from chariots, and on the water from the ships. They killed hippopotamuses with a harpoon and the rope and birds with bow and arrow. Hippopotamus meat is still consumed in some parts of the world. Human eating hobbits are drastically worsening and become more similar eating hobbits of the predator, that to the rational human being. Children played with balls made of animal skin and toy made of wood and ivory. They loved to fight and wrestle in the ancient Egyptians swamps.  

As time passes, people resist change more and more forgetting its mystery. They put all of their energy into destroying the past and fighting the old.  People fear change because it is beautiful and like all beautiful thing it hides pain within.  They make excuses of what is holding them back from the progress while it is themselves who are keeping them back.

 Unfortunately, some things honestly cannot be changed. Past cannot be changed, but you can learn from it.

 " I think we can now begin with the real storytelling. Let me tell one story that will explain to you how important is to change and adapt to the situation." I replied getting large smiles from everyone present

 The story began 4700 years ago in the time of pharaon Djoser. He was still a young pharaon when the event that marked his life as well as the entire Egyptian empire. He never thought that something like that could happen. It was the twilight, and he was eating grapes on the terrace of his palace when one of his most trusted advisors bursting to the door disoriented and awestruck. He began to speak to Pharaon.

 “Oh my lord, my lord. They are here. Gg-gods are h-here, and they wish to see you, my lord. They want to speak to you. They are here, they are here, among us mere mortals. Amon-Ra and Amunet have descended from their divine duelling to meet you, my lord. Oh, oh, oh. They are here!”

  He then began to cry the tears of pure joy and slowly fall to ecstasy. The pharaon, on the other hand, did not show any emotion of happiness and ower calmness as his advisor but of annoyance. He spoke with irritation clearly showing in his words.

 “Stop talking nonsense, my old friend. Why would gods want to come to Earth and talk to me? Are you sure that you did not drink too much of vine today?”

“My lord I am sure! Come and see for yourself. I am not laying or talking nonsense, and certainly, I am not drunk! Please, my lord, come and see!”

 The Pharaon Djoser followed his overwhelmed advisor, not because he believed him, but because he did not have anything better to do at this moment than to support, in his opinion, insane friend. He, of course, brought with him fifteen gourds, just in case this is the murder plot, although he did not believe that someone would want to kill him. After all, he was a wise and kind ruler.

 When they came to the main entrance to the place and were about to leave the grand building, a deep male voice spoke.

 “Pharaon Djoser of Egypt. Come and see.”

 The pharaon, advisor and guards quickly turned around to witness, for them, a perfect sight.  A raven-haired man with caramel skin tone and penetrating golden eyes. He was dress in a golden skirt. He was barefoot, and his chest was bear and sparkling on the latest rays of the Egyptian sun. Next to him stood the most beautiful woman they have ever seen. She dark hair, caramel skin and golden eyes. Her hair was long and looked so soft and unrealistic on the soft desert wind that was blowing toward slightly, the most unbelievable sight ever. She wore something that could look liked 21st-century one-piece bathing costume with bear back and hips. The difference was, that dress was made of Gold. They both looked real and intimidated while holding golden wands with shining diamonds on top of them. His diamond had the bright, warm colour while she had the colour of the starless sky, of the abyss. He put his arm on her bare hips and stared at the socked Pharaon without flickering. The silence that surrounded them was broken by a melodious voice of the gold-eye woman.

 " Do you know who we are? Do you know why we are here?"

 She stopped as if she was waiting for the answer she would not get. After a few seconds, she continued.

 " We are the hidden ones! You may call us by the names of your Gods and Goddess. Amunet would be I, and Amun-Ra would be my beloved one. The flame of our love flamed for over 4000 years, and it will glow forever, our love has no bounds and knows none of dying and mortality!"

 She stopped again, but this time to see, to explore the effect of her words. The result was great, humans in front of them started to shake, and the advisor befell on his knees. The silence was made again, but this time corrupted not by velveteen female voice, but by dark, shivering voice. It was Amon-Ra.

    " We came to you to ask you, Pharaon, for help. We need you and you people to work with us to defend your planet. Before we tell you anything about the emergency, we need t know if you are willing to work with us!"

 He looked in Pharaon making him fall on his knees an cry out

 " Of course, of course, of cour My Lords. Of course…! "

 Amunet and Amun-Ra looked satisfied. Pharaon and two "Gods" disappeared, leaving behind shaken advisor and guards.

Djoser, Aminet and Amun-Ra resembled for some time in what was the underground chamber for planning war tactics. Amun-Ra spoke.

 "What we are going to speak now, must not leave this chamber. Is this  crystal clear?"

 Pharaon could not speak from shock, so he just nodded. Amunet spoke next.

" We should better sit, as the story is running long."

As they sat on chairs around the old wood table, Amount began the story.

 " Every 10 000 years a phenomenon called alignment occurs at a particular spot in the Univers. This time it happens that the place is your planet. It will happen on the Earth."

 She spoke and place her finger on the map, that suddenly appeared, an on the south-east part of what is today recognised as United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northen Irland.

 "The alignment is the moment when all of the Universes and multiverses equalise, so it is possible to travel through all of them. Yes, there are more Universe that the one you live in. Moreover, Universe is the place beyond the sky; it is where all of us live. Multiverse, on the other hand, like another version of your universe, consisted of the ones before and after your was created. Like the past and future together, with no time at all.  The problem is the energy realised from the Alignment can destroy the entire planet and cause a huge hole in the Universe that would suck it all in itself, causing the end of this seen Universe. That is if it is not handled properly. We tried to manage it in the past, but the prices were huge. Extension of entire races and wintertime that lasted for thousands of years. However, now we have the plan to prevent all of it, and we need your help. We need your people to build pyramids in certain particular places."

 She showed places on the map marked with red crosses.

 " Pyramids will be build of particular stones that would be able to hold the energy and avoid destroying. The stones are located in your kingdom and have a green triangle on them, so your people will know which rocks to collect. They will fit perfectly together with one another, and green triangles will disappear once the pyramid is built. Supply of the stones is big enough to build pyramid thorough couple hundred years, around 3000 years I believe. Pyramids will be the pillars that will collect the energy released from the Alignment, lower its power a little. Accordingly, the received power will not destroy anything in multiverses including other universes, and it will be sent back. I will not go into details, but if you willing we can start immediately with the plan?"

Pharaon Djoser nodded again as they disappeared from the chamber.

 Two decades after, the first pyramid was built. Amon-Ra and Amunet were satisfied. They talked to Pharaon the day after in his private rooms. Amon-Ra spoke.

" We are both very pleased by your work. We will get you to gift as it is fit. However, before that, I want to present you one last thing regarding our plan."

He flicked his fingers, and fifteen horn-shaped instruments appeared in the chambers.

" These instruments are extraordinary. If the pyramid is placed in the wrong place, 10-15 people must surround it in the circle and play this instrument. Its times will lift the pyramid from the ground and as musicians walk in the circle to the place were pyramid is supposed to be, the pyramid shall follow them. 15 people are the best number, especially if the pyramid is big. Just enough air will circle pyramid to lift it. Now to the gift. We will give you part of our knowledge. Call your court clerk, and we shall instruct him what to write down."

As he said, it happened. The presentation looked like something like this.

HIMERA

Main features

Lion head

Snakehead

Goat head

Arrow-shaped tail

Three-headed chimaera is a fan of volcanic areas. From its goat head, it is breathing fire

like a dragon and from it snakehead attacks with a venomous bite. Lion head, however,

bloodthirstily shreds pray into peace.

Lair: Vulcanic crater

Size: Length 5 and height 2.5-4m

Look: Snakehead and goat head can grow from the back

Attack: Poison, fire, teeth, claws

Food: loves bitter food and humans are its favourite pray

SIX-LEGGED SALAMANDER

Main features

o   Lizard Head

o   Fire-resistant though

o   Three pairs of legs

o   Fire-resistant skin

o   Long tail

This type of salamander can be seen only in the volcanic areas. It can produce venomous milk which can extinguish the fire. It helps it to survive.

Lair: Vulcanic crater

Size: Length 60 cm and height 20 cm

Look six-legged salamander; legs can fall off and re-create again

Attack: Poisons milk that is also useful in catching the pray

Food: Firefly, small bugs and planta with sulfur

HYDRUS

Though he is hairy when he is dry, he roles in the mud and creating a protective sheath whit which he enters into a crocodile, his main food, which he eats from the inside.

Lair: Muddy holes along the Nile

Size: Length 30 cm and height 1-2 m

Look: Similar to mongoose

Attack: Eats pray from the inside

Food: Crocodiles and Hippopotamuses

FENIX

An exceptionally clean and neat creature, Fenix is the rarest of all earthly beings. From unpleasant parasites, it is regularly released by a hot bath.

Lair: The nest in the treetops of cinnamon

Size: Length 1.3 m and height 0.7 m

Look: like jagged eagles with a long tale

Attack: It never attacks

Food: fruit

SPHINX          

Subspecies of sphinx

Androsphinx- human head

Criosphinx- caption head

Hieracosphinx- eagle head

Of the three subspecies, Adrosfinga is the only one who can speak and has developed a tendency for riddles. Each subspecies has a winged version.

 Lair: Ancient Ruins

Size: Length 2 m and height 1-1.5 m

Look: lion body and human head

Attack: claws and teeth

Food: Human meat, but it will renounce it for the challenge

The presentation was recorded on papyrus, and there was many more thing. There were paragraphs about diets, universe, stars. For Egyptians, most important ones were about Nile and stars, but the most interesting ones were about rare and mystical animals, like the ones above. The pyramids continued to be build after Amun-Ra and Amunet left, all until the fall of the Egyptian empire; for that was the wish of Amunet and her beloved.

  Last uttered words from the hidden ones to humanity were:

 “Death will come for us all

You and I

The goal is not to be divine and live forever

However, to be human and to create something that will last and serve the future

That is the life celebrated,

That is the life lived! “