#but posting it... takes a toll on my overall health and well-being 8D

[quadcorenewkids]

Touching the Void - Chapter 1

I’m posting this because, although I like a lot of parts about this, it feels too dragged out for a first chapter... too slow. Idk, I just have some mixed feelings, and since it’s the first chapter, I don’t mind posting it because... it’s not technically spoilers? 8D

Man, I hate how different things look from the word program to the actual post, no matter where it is. It never looks quite right :/

An evening in the McCormick household where one didn't need to fight to have dibs on the TV was a rare fucking evening indeed. In fact, Kenny's parents weren't even home... or so he assumed. If there wasn't yelling and bitching coming from somewhere within earshot, they must've been out and about. Didn't surprise him in the slightest. Kevin - pretty quiet as per usual - probably locked himself in his room so he could drink all night, and Karen - sweet, naive Karen - was already in bed at this hour, having had her dinner and going straight to bed. Hard to believe she was in Fourth Grade already. Felt like yesterday when he was back at the wonderful age of 10.             He remembered playing their games, the boys and him... being afraid of the Sixth Graders, and everything. Yet now they were he Sixth Graders... that still hadn't settled with him, even if it didn't really feel like they'd grown up at all. And having Middle School looming around the corner come next year? Yuck. He had a similar reaction when flipping the channel to the next fuzzy one. Fucking figures, the one night he didn't have to wrestle his drunk-ass brother or parents for the remote, and there was nothing good on. No sports aside from re-runs. Not even much late-night adult content to be found either. Just the fucking shopping channel - god, he hated that with an immense passion - and some boring documentaries and talk shows. He flipped over to one idly and stared blankly at the screen while the voice continued to narrate. The content on the screen wasn't memorable to him in the slightest.           "-and it begs to offer this yet unsolved question that we ask ourselves constantly: 'What were we put on this Earth to do? What is our purpose?' A-and there's just no rightful way of answering that, try as we may. It's a solution that we, as individuals must come to understand and learn for ourselves. All we can do to aid the process along, is by pushing ourselves in the general direction of self-discovery."             He had his finger on the button to switch the channel, before - at the last second - the guy on the TV added, "Which brings me to ask you... why do some people long to die?"             That caught Kenny's attention for an extra moment, "W-When you have the potential of a great, grand purpose in our lives as a result of what we were put on this Earth to do, why would you want to knowingly take your own life away? Why do most of us fear Death so greatly... but others don't? What in the world makes us so unique from one another in such a queer manner? What drives these people to do these things?"

The other man on the TV laughed at him, "Sounds more like we've got a 'Q&Q' show than a 'Q&A' now, Abe."

"These are trying topics. You try to come up with an answer. A real answer. It ain't so easy, is it?"             "Well, if you had to ask me, I'd say some people are obviously just more miserable than others. The quality of life and the gap and all that mumbo-jumbo. If you're down in the dumps long enough, it might seem like that's what you were put on the Earth to be - a metaphorical punching bag."             "Is that what you view yourself to be? You know, some experts say that our words and actions reflect how we feel about ourselves more than they affect others."             "Pfffff. You think I'm a punching bag? I'm living the dream, Abe. Or what feels like the dream... that's good enough for me."           The 'Abe' guy opened his mouth to talk again, but Kenny flipped the TV off before he could utter another word. God this night fucking sucked so far. He got up to get a drink - not a drink drink. Seeing what that shit does to other people sure has its way of souring you on even touching the stuff. Shoving the dozens of beer bottles and cans aside in the dirty old fridge, he pulled out a soda he'd stashed in the very back. It'd been opened before, so it was completely flat by now... but he honestly didn't give much of a shit. Flat or fizzy, it was still a nice treat to have, now and again.             While he sat and chugged back what was left of his week-old cola, his mind wandered back to that dumb-ass talk show again. 'What were we put on this Earth to do? What is our purpose?'

Did it really matter what the purpose was? You make something of yourself, or you don't. Either way, everyone has access to titties on the internet, and that was enough of a reason alone for some people to work and pay the bills. Can't even get a good magazine nowadays without having to pay like twenty dollars plus shipping... they don't even ship it in discreet packaging anymore! What a fucking time to be alive, when your neighbour can walk by and see the latest issue of Playboy sitting on your front step in broad daylight because some asshole couldn't be bothered to stuff it in the mailbox.

Not that he really cared... wasn't his name plastered all over it. He'd used his brother's name when ordering the subscriptions, and he didn't think anything of it when he'd answered the door the first time to pick them up. He'd probably just assumed his drunk-ass couldn't remember ordering it. He'd never complain about free titty magazines though, that would be fucking blasphemy. Kenny just had to make sure he got up early enough on mail days to be able to snag them first when he saw them... he wasn't the biggest fan of second-hand merchandise. Who could blame him?             He crunched the can up with one hand and tossed it in the general direction of the trash can. It hadn't been emptied in weeks, so it just kind of harmlessly bounced off the heaping pile of other cans and rolled on the floor. He'd have to do something about that at some point soon.

He once caught Karen trying to clean up the disaster that was the kitchen. Poor girl almost cut herself on a bottle that'd been broken at some point. After that, Kenny told her that she shouldn't clean up broken bottles and cans - at the very least, not without using a towel or something to protect her hands with. He'd insisted that he'd try to tidy up a bit in her place... but he'd gotten lazy. It gets to a point where if you're the only one in the whole fuckin' house making an effort to clean up, you just don't feel like it's even worth trying. But he'd do it eventually. For Karen's sake, at the very least.             With a sigh, he sauntered over to his room and shut the door quietly behind him. He always made a note to try and do that. No reason to slam doors around and, on the off-chance, wake up his sister. His parents did that enough, that quiet days like this were just... unheard of. This whole evening had been a fucking weird one. He flopped down on his bed and stared at the ceiling for a moment.           "Some people are obviously just more miserable than others. The quality of life and the gap and all that mumbo-jumbo. If you're down in the dumps long enough, it might seem like that's what you were put on the Earth to be - a metaphorical punching bag."             He snatched his pillow and buried his face into it, heaving another sigh. Maybe he shouldn't of even bothered trying to watch TV, if all he can think about is a stupid fucking talk show... but when he thought about it, Kenny kind of felt like a punching bag. Some days, more literally than others. No matter what people threw at him though, he would bounce back from anything. Always coming back, to no one ever remembering. No one remembers the punching bag. He rolled over and glared at the wall. It was going to be one of these nights again, huh? He hadn't gone on such a downward spiral since... since Fourth Grade. Everything had fuckin flown by the past couple years. The usual weird shit would happen every once in a while, but he felt like he was getting involved in it less and less. Stan, Kyle, and Cartman would go off and do shit on their own after school somedays, and it was like they never thought to ask him to join. On one hand, Kenny wasn't complaining – fuck no. That meant he'd been through less shit that could end up with him dead again.           On the other hand... he sort of missed it. He hadn't even worn the Mysterion outfit in what felt like fucking forever... when had he last gone out in it? He got up and went over to the dresser to take a look. It was exactly where he'd left it last time - placed in the bottom drawer. Forgotten. He picked it up and held it out to get a good look at it. It was so small, to him. Had it really been that long? He slowly took his parka off and put the cape on overtop of his shirt. It didn't drag on the floor like it used to, that was for sure. The first few times he'd worn it, he remembered being a dumbass and tripping over it on a few occasions. He'd twisted his ankle once or twice, and one instance actually involved him falling off a roof. That had been agony.             Yet he hadn't cut it any shorter or anything. He'd instead persevered and got used to knowing where it was and how to not trip on it. He casually grabbed an edge of the cape and brought it close to his face in what was meant to be a dramatic pose. At least it was long enough to do that, anyway. The hood was a bit small though... and he didn't even dare try on that light purple one-piece. He took a look in the drawer again to find the half-mask sitting at the bottom. He slipped it on over his head, but it was so tight on his eyes. With a scoff, he'd pulled the ensemble off and shoved it back in the drawer. Maybe there was a fucking reason he'd stopped wearing that thing. All it did now was bring back memories of that fucking cult.             But it had good memories associated with it too. He'd protected his little sister against bullies in Greely as Mysterion... he'd even become a 'Guardian Angel' to her. That, was what made it worth it. That was why he'd kept wearing it up until last year. He wanted to protect people that couldn't do it alone. He wanted to be this stupid little mountain town's 'guardian angel'... to keep it safe from fucking monsters. He scowled at the open drawer now, at the outfit thrown into a ball and wrinkled to hell. Cartman had been one of those monsters... he'd been fucking insane to drag an Elder God into his schemes. He certainly didn't miss hanging out with him. "Friend" or not.           Kenny didn't bother to close the drawer before stumbling back to his bed and throwing himself upon it again - this time sans parka. Maybe he'd bring back the persona... maybe he wouldn't. He honestly didn't want to think about it anymore... he just wanted the night to be over so he could just go back to school tomorrow - words he never thought would pass his mind. But all that kept coming back to mind was that... Fucking... Talk show.             "'What were we put on this Earth to do? What is our purpose?'... It's a solution that we, as individuals must come to understand and learn for ourselves. All we can do to aid the process along, is... push... ourselves in the general direction of self-discovery."           He'd tried that once. It didn't end up all that great.

People don't really realize when they drift off to sleep. It's just a quiet cloak of darkness that overtakes the mind... it's nigh undetectable.         He wasn't any different, at first. He didn't know he was dreaming. It felt... too real.             This place felt familiar... but for the life of him, he couldn't fucking remember where he was, exactly. It was like it kept changing... shifting... the lighting bounced around the ground like water at the bottom of a pool. The sand was red... no, not sand. Dirt. Or... stone? Kenny couldn't focus on it at all, like he'd pulled an all-nighter and hit the point where he just couldn't *mentally* stay awake anymore. The area around him was hazy, and alien. Strange plants - if you could even call them 'plants' - and formations were all around him... nothing familiar besides that feeling deep down that he'd been here once before.             The only thing that knocked him out of his stupor was a voice from behind him, but it sounded like he'd missed part of the conversation before it... "...maybe we should just find a place to hide and wait for help!"           That sounded like... someone he knew... Another voice reverberated, this time right next to him, "What help, dude? Nobody in the real world even knows we're here."           Kenny finally looked towards the source of the voices. They were like mirages... blurry... but he recognized them. He recognized the words. Clyde and Kyle. Mentioning the real world? But that meant... This was R'Lyeh. It came to him like a slap in the face, waking him from the hazy phase he'd just been in. The weird lighting, the even weirder tentacle plants and shit... the other boys in costumes... and then he saw himself walk from where he stood, like he'd waltzed right out of his own body, donned as Mysterion. He felt a distant pain in his gut, as he watched himself take charge and insist he'd find help. He knew what was coming all too well.             Quite frankly, he didn't want to fucking relive it a second time. He closed his eyes to block it out as he heard Clyde call his name. He'd forgotten to block the sound out... and it was a horrid sound. And the pain! The pain hit him like a fucking truck, like he'd actually gone and done it again! Seething agony for what felt like an eternity... and then darkness overcame him again.

He woke up in a cold sweat, grasping at his chest for the spikes he'd known were there when he'd purposefully plunged himself upon them. He laid there, catching his breath and trying to cement himself back in reality for a good long moment, before glancing over at the clock. Four in the morning. It didn't feel that long had passed, but who the fuck knew, when you were asleep, right? Time flew by like nobody's damn business... he'd wished for it earlier in the night. Now, he regretted it. That's not what he fucking meant by it at all.

He glanced at his hands, then passed them through his hair, cringing when he realized it had slicked back somewhat from the sweat on his brow.             Fuck this night sucked.