Now, there are talks of peace
between Cremston and Enzoberg.
A sigh of relief stretches from
the buildings and trees. And the sky
is warm as Darren and dad battle
on the pickleball court. And again,
his father proves to be victor.

They rest and watch the others
play. Darren goes on about not
getting anything yet, losing
money, and Carrie not waking
up (and the medical price
of her sleep.) His father nods
and tells him that he wish
he could help, but these are all
tests from the Gods. He needs
to handle these trials on his own.
The sun angles against his stare.

Darren is getting tired of throwing
emails against the wind, and the constant
no-responses. The void of each day
as he labors for another empty
chunk. He recalls the eels just before
he killed them all, the swift movement
of their beings, their shallow, meaningless
eyes swimming in the small frame
of porcelain.

Something watches Darren
as he fills out yet another
application. It floats down
from the ceiling, slides through
the cabinetry, sees specks of mold
and the meager fold remaining.
Soon, Darren will be gone,
and the ghost will be the only
occupant.

The ghost attempts to make
the tenant to flee. For days,
it opens windows at night,
flings cabinet doors, moans
and scratches wood. But Darren
is indifferent.

The ghost reforms its face
for a moment in the mirror
as Darren brushes his teeth.
A jolt leaps through Darren
and he turns around, but then
he continues. Darren leaves
for bed and the ghost is
alone, finds its face again
in the mirror but its faint.
A name almost comes
but disappears like steam.

The ghost follows Darren
to the theater. On the large
screen, the sun fills a village
and the ghost is tinged
with a familiar feeling, as if
he had touched this scene
before. But the village is
soon filled with black air
and bullets. A tank enters
and soldiers cower behind
stone walls. Animals run
and bodies…the ghost tries
to close its sight but cannot
and the screen freezes,
the image of a tank shakes
then melts into white.
The theater mutters and leaves
Both Darren and the ghost
readjust to the light and go on.

Darren at the hospital, speaking
to Carrie, hoping to comfort her,
maybe even wake her up. The ghost
The ghost steps beneath her eyes
and suddenly finds itself in a field,
solid. Looks down and sees feet,
legs, and hands. The ghost is
no longer a ghost but a villager
who died many, many years ago
either by Enzoberg or Cremston
but for now, he’s alive, and he runs,
the air rushing along his skin.
He finds a river in the woods
and peers down to try to find
a face, but none is there. The water
is gray and opaque. He looks up
and a figure standing on the water.

“You’re another one,” it says,
“that the Gods summoned.
It’s okay. I am like you, thrust
back into the world by the Gods.
But we don’t need them to have
a purpose. We can forgo their plans.
I’ve found a way.”

Written for the A-Z Challenge.

She opens her eyes and the sky
widens. The field stretches out
from her and trees rise from
the edges. No sun. The air
is white and the grass is faint
green as if color is being
slowly washed away. She stands.
No signs of war. Or life.
She tries to recall what occurred
after the sky sliced itself open,
but no memory comes. How
did she get here? Did someone
pull her from the trenches?
Is she still in a dream?

She calls for Neil. For Darren.
For anyone as she wanders
the empty field and through
the empty trees. In the woods
she finds a river but the water
is not clear. It runs gray. The tips
of her fingers touch the water
and the cold rises through
her hand and up her arm.
A dread reaches into her
touching the rooms of her heart.
It’s death, but it’s not frightening
or violent as if a part of her
is finally being completed.
It’s actually frightening.
She’s scared, but the fear seems
so distant as if it’s another’s
voice. A figure rises from the river.

Elsewhere, Darren and Axel
are driving through the night.
“This a nice car.” “Oh thanks man.”
“Beats riding the bus.” “I know
right?” “Is it your mom’s?”
“Well, yeah. But I’m the one
who mostly drives it. So
it’s basically mine.”

They arrive to a parking lot.
Across the street is a dive bar.
“That the place?” “Yep. Doesn’t
seem like much but if you go
through the side door and down
some stairs, you’ll see some
big-time fellas there.”
“And what’s his name again?
The guy running the game?”
“Nemus, I guess. But he is
super loaded. And a degenerate
gambler. No one knows how
but he just came outta nowhere
and got everyone under his
thumb. Look, I know this is
scary, but this is our shot.
Gotta make bold moves
like he did. Just follow
my lead. We got this.”

They cross the street and move
down the alley toward the side
entrance. But just as they reach
the door, Darren stops, informs
Axel that he cannot go in. Darren
lies and says he has another
interview tomorrow. Axel is
disappointed but understands.
“Well, I’m going in. Someone
needs to empty their pockets.”

Darren walks against the night
and the moon’s cold air follows.
It was strange, it was as if a wall
had pulled itself from the ground
and he couldn’t physically go.
He probably would have lost
money, but he needs to try
something. But fear grips him
as it always does.

After an hour he finds himself
in the hospital. Carrie’s closed
face staring up at nothing.
And he wonders if he should
leave her for good. She doesn’t
love him. And even when she was
awake he truly never knew
what was inside her. She had
merely settled for him because
his brother wasn’t there.

He used to tell himself
that he was not his brother
and that this was okay.
But it’s not. It’s not. He always
takes the safer route, the least
resistant path. But as a result
he is replaceable, a surplus man,
a computer can do his labor,
a computer can think his thoughts.
It made no sense for the Gods
to test him. Maybe they aren’t.
Maybe he’s just been lying
to himself, making himself
believe that he is more, worthy
of the sky’s attention.

He looks down at her
and wonders if she is
dreaming, where her mind
is going. If he’s there.
Or if Neil. Or if there is
no man. If she is in a place
without need or desire
or fear. And when she wakes
(if she wakes) will she remember?
Will there be a nameless sense
of disappointment haunting
her waking days, as if she
had lost something, a place
that can never be again?
He kisses her and for a moment
he thinks her eyes move beneath
their lids. But maybe it was
just a thought disrupting
the light.

And the Gods watch this.
Sometimes they think of humans
in such a way, wondering
what their internal lives are
really like. Do they move
through the world as if it is
a dream? Their lives are so short
but dreams can last forever
or quickly burst like a bubble.
But the Gods know the true
nature of time and cannot easily
warp their days. They don’t live
in dreams. And they remember
everything. At least they think
they do. After a long time
of watching the universe,
I’ve gathered a secret
or two, like little pebbles.
Some I’ve discarded,
skipping them across lakes,
but there will always be
one I keep. One that even the Gods
may never see.

But none of that matters.
Darren leaves the white room
and enters the open black
of Enzoberg. Somehow, the fear
that had been beating in his chest
as he entered that alleyway
was further and further away
as if he was standing on the moon,
watching his life walk around
below. Maybe tomorrow will be
another trial, but there is a voice
within the space hovering above
the moonlit glow that tells him
he will be okay.

Written for the A-Z Challenge.

Carrie in her room,
thousands watch as she
eliminates foes on her
screen. Their bodies
flop into the gray
and muddied field
surrounding her.
A shadow flies above,
she ducks into a trench.
The air roars, her eyes
shake, the land screams.

Carrie no longer
in her room but awakening
in that trench, hands
on her rifle, but she’s still
in her pjs. The gun is too
heavy and real. Over there
a teammate writhing.
She rushes over to administer
aid, but a knife comes down
and his eyes turn gray.
The Cremston soldier smirks
and aims his blade at her.
She backs up slowly until
a large man snaps the soldier’s
puny neck. He falls over
and Carrie sees Darren’s
brother, Neil. “You stole
my kill,” she says. “

You seem to have accepted this
reality,” he replies.

“What do you mean?”

“Look around you.”

She does. The bodies, dead
and alive in this muddy vein.
Above, wooden posts and wire
fencing clawing at the sky
which is colorless. In fact,
everything is monochrome.
And there is no more sound.
No more explosions, no more
artillery, no more screaming,
as if the world is waiting
for her response.

“Am I dead?”

“No. But you’re in a coma.
Something has infected you.
It’s coming.”

“What is?”

The sky rumbles. The ground
shakes. Every one still breathing
crouches and holds on. Carrie
looks up. The sky ruptures.

Meanwhile, Darren is dealing
with eels. They slither
in the bath water. “What? Why?
Whyyyy?” He contacts the super
but he has to get cleaned up.
He has an interview today.
He hurries to the gym.

“Darren, it’s been awhile.
Finally ready to get swole?”
Axel grins at Darren. “Sorry,
I need to just use the shower.
I’ve got an interview.”

“An interview?”

“I lost my job.”

“Damn, sorry man. But, you said
you hated it. Right?”

“But I still money.”

“Pfft. You don’t need a job
to make money. Look at me.”

“…Wait you don’t work here?”

“Nah man. I don’t believe
in labor. Unless it’s to—”
and he slaps his biceps.

“Well, I have no choice
but to believe in labor.”

“Hm. Wait, did you lose
your apartment?”

“No. But I’m being trialed
by the Gods.”

“You can say that again.”

“No. Literally.”

“Really? Why do you say that?”

“There’s eels in my bathtub.”

“Oh. Damn. That sucks
but I wish I was trialed
by the Gods.”

“I don’t. I don’t even know
why me. I’m not seeking
immortality or power or money.
I just want a humble life.”

“Maybe that’s the problem.
Maybe the Gods are trying
to push you towards something
greater. They do shit like that.”

This is where Axel informs him
of a great opportunity. Axel can
get him a seat at a table
of an underground card game.
As Darren showers the thoughts
cascade and blur his eyes.

Written for the A-to-Z Challenge.

“Afflatus, we had all decided
on Darren. Now you must go
down and fix your problem.”

“’Tis no problem. We can test
two.”

“Nay. Darren has been decided.
All our energies must be there.
So now, you shall go below
and procure your precious coin
and return the homeless man
to his destiny.”

Afflatus dislikes debating
his younger brother, Merrick.
He is the God of Law,
and laws trump chaos. This
has been the rule for centuries.
Afflatus simply nods
and then prepares for his
sojourn beneath the sky.

Meanwhile, Darren at the park,
looking up at the moon,
its skin hovering and cold,
and Darren wonders
if his girlfriend will ever wake
and if he will get a job.
His mind is interrupted
by a voice bellowing
across the dark air.

“These are the last
of the good
days!
The party
is over! The music
is a
shadow!”

The figure emerges. Half a face
near the light. The song stares
at Darren who freezes to the park
bench. And the song, if one can
call it that:

“These are the last
the last
the last
the last of the good
days!
The party
is over! Time
to hang your
shoes.
But the song
keeps playing
keeps playing
cause it doesn’t know
what it has lost!”

Darren finally stands
and quickly walks.
Footsteps
behind him.

“Hey! HEY!”

Darren starts to walk faster.
The exit just up ahead.

“I’m not done yet!”

Before he reaches the street
the figure appears before him.
“I’m not supposed to tell you this,
Darren
my boy.
But I’m only here because
of the Gods.
We all are.
We all…
I’m here to test you!
I have no other purpose!
So come! Hit me!
HIT ME!
My boy!”

Darren races across the dark
grass, nearly trips on a tree
root. He runs. Runs. Until
he’s out of the park. Rushes
home. He hears the song
trailing his skin.

“These are the last
the last, the lastlastlast
of the good
days!
The party
is over! Darren, time
to hang your
head.
And close
your eyes
like sweet Carrie!
And time to forget
the song
that keeps playing
keeps playing
cause it doesn’t know
what it has lost!”

Darren up the stairs. Down
the hall. His door. Slams
the world away and locks.
Silence.
Silence.
As he stares at the door
Silence. Until

A knock.
Then another.

“Sorry,” a low voice says.
“I was born this way. They made me
a drunkard I guess. But I am
better now.” The knob tries
to twist. “I don’t know why
you won’t let me in. I’m
cold. And hungry. I don’t
remember the last time I
ate. Hello? This is the
right door, I’m sure. I’m—”

“I called the cops. I suggest
you leave!”

Silence.

Then a dim song, more
like a mutter. But this time
Darren can’t make out
the words.

And then: “if you don’t
open the door Darren
then I’m gonna disappear
for good. I’ll be ‘defeated’
then the Gods will do away
with me. Cause I only exist
to ‘trial’ you. I don’t even
know what that means.”
The knob tries to move
again. “Maybe I can help
you…Darren. Just let me in.
…I don’t want to die. I don’t
want to disappear. Please.
I never got the chance to
live. To be something. To
even see the sun. I’ll sing
a different song. I’ll wash
your dishes. I’ll—”

Silence.

Written for this year’s A-to-Z Challenge.

The Gods are mildly pleased
and mildly amused by the way
Darren was able to feed birds,
but one, Afflatus, Chairman
of Chaos, tells me that he is bored
of this creature. While the others
consider the next test, Afflatus
flips a coin across the sky.
“Perhaps, with a bit of luck,
this will spice things up.”
A smirk forms as the coin lands
on the sidewalk and soon
Darren is there to pick it up.

It seems to have a special shine.
There are symbols he does not
recognize. It is thick with value
but he cannot place it in his pocket,
a voice clings to him, warning
of its soul. He instead drops it
in the cup of homeless man
and continues on his way.

The face of Afflatus changes
but he watches still. And Nemus,
the homeless man, who once battled
Cremscum in broken lands, takes his coin
to the local pawn-man.

“This seems to be a cursed object.
These letters I cannot read,
but they give me the creeps.
And this is a skull. I will give you
$13.”

Nemus shakes his head.
“This is an ancient coin. One of this first.
I found it on a battlefield many years ago.”

“And you’re only bringing it now?”
The pawnbroker gazed upon
the pathetic soldier. His mind sighed.
“I’ll give you $17.”

Nemus is tempted. His stomach
squirms for a sandwich. But a voice
breathes in his skull, warning not
to take the deal.

Nemus stumbles instead
to a casino and the voice requests
that he find a slot machine.
He drops it in the machine’s thin
mouth, presses the button and beholds
as the lights and sounds go off and brighten
his mind.

But he is not important. Darren
is at home. 100s of applications,
no interviews. They will soon
be living on the streets. Why
did he give away that coin?
And in the other room, Carrie
is streaming, but her eyes are
turning gray. She rubs them
and keeps playing. Someone
comments that her face is losing
its color. The screen blurs
and the room loses shape.

At the hospital now. “Comas
are rare. Could be anxiety.
She could also stand to lose
a little weight.” The doctor leaves
and Darren stares at her
closed eyes. He turns to the window
waiting for a black bird.

Meanwhile, Nemus buys
his old childhood home. And buys
a car. And another. He plays
cards. He watches the ball
slide under the right number.
He buys a business. He buys
people to follow him around.
He buys several guns.
And above, Afflatus sees all.

“What’s that look,” Eldo,
God of the Sea asks Afflatus.
“Darren bores me. I found
a new fool. Let’s see him play
the hands he’s dealt.” Eldo
shakes his head. “This is not
what we agreed upon. We all
settled on Darren.” “Nay,
not I,” says Afflatus. “This
is not cool,” Eldo responds.
But Afflatus plays a different game
than the others.

Days go on their way, and Darren
watches Carrie not wake. And Cremston
bombs a mine. And Enzoberg poisons
a lake. And Darren is running out
of days, out of money, and so is
everyone else. But Nemus plans
a different game.

Written for this year’s A-Z Challenge.

And so Darren overcomes his first trial
mostly, and the Gods acknowledge this.
But they notice a part of the gray thing
still lingering beneath Carrie’s skin,
invading her blood. However, the Gods
summon the next trial regardless.

After a day long with submitting resumes
Darren decides to stroll the city streets
but we’re not the only one watching him.
He hears caws from above, stops, turns
and sees a row of black birds above
on a power line, their eyes on him.
As he continues, he spots black eyes
in the trees and bushes, black wings
making formations in the dimming
sky. Darren believes in the Gods
but he doesn’t believe in signs,
nor does he pray. “The Gods will
do what they will,” he once said.

At home, Carrie filming herself live
for an audience of 3. Money is tight
so she’s restarted her streaming career,
but she’s just another person playing
the latest game. It’s been a week
since Darren lost his job. Carrie
doesn’t want to get a real job again.
Perhaps it’s time to leave Darren
maybe for a man she met last month.
Her mind shudders; he seems to be
another freak, but he’s employed.

Darren enters the apartment quietly,
knowing Carrie is still streaming.
A bird watches him from the balcony.
Then another. Then another…
Too many eyes, too many black feathers,
too many voices chattering, laughing,
filling the apartment with a black cacophony.
Carrie emerges from the bedroom and sees
the birds flooding the balcony and asks
if he’s called the super.

The birds suddenly fly off, the apartment
silent but their voices still circle his brain
and that night one of their shapes appear
outside on the window ledge, watching
the two of them in their bedroom.

“How many were there?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t count,”
Darren says. His father looks over
at the balcony coated with feces.
“The Gods,” he says, “a classic sign.”
He sips his coffee. Darren shakes
his head. “What? What else could it be?”
“Not everything is the Gods. Some things
are coincidence,” Darren says. “Bad luck.
Losing my job now the birds.” “Luck is just
the language of the Gods,” his father says
sagely as he stares into his coffee.

“Where is Carrie?”
“In the bedroom. She’s streaming again.”
“Oh. And how’s the job search?”
Darren’s eyes turn to glass. “Fine.
There’s a couple places that look interesting.”
“You know, the military just raised
the recruitment age. You don’t have to be
on the front lines of course.”
“Yeah…”

The next day, Darren scans the sky,
the roof ledges and the power lines. Clear
but he still hears them. He takes the bus
to the nearest temple to see Priestess Layla
and the old woman concurs with his father,
that the birds are from the Gods.

“Many years ago, there was a great warrior
who slayed many a foe in the name of Enzoberg
but the Gods challenged him by summoning
birds with black wings and blacker hearts
and their black wings and black hearts haunted
his eyes and his mind. He saw them in the air
and in his sleep.”

“What did he do to stop them?”

“He jumped off a cliff
but as soon as he was about to land
the birds scooped him up
and placed him in a dirty ravine.
He lived 100 more years
followed by the birds.”

“So…he died.”

“Yes, but the birds still lingered
amidst his grave. But there is one thing
he didn’t do.”

“What?”

She placed a napkin on her desk
and opened it, revealing bread.
“Feed them.”

Darren was befuddled by this.
“And put drugs in the bread?”

“No, my child. You can’t kill these birds.
But you can feed them.”

“Okay…does it have to be this bread
or can it be any kind?”

Darren leaves the temple and sits alone
on a park bench and waits. Waits.
But soon he sees the familiar shapes
slowly filling the branches above,
their eyes clawing him. From his jacket
his hand trembles and his fingers open
revealing the bread. The birds cock
their heads and makes sounds until one
finally swoops down onto the walkway
and bounces towards Darren. The bird
watches as he places the bread by his shoes.
The bird hops and looks upon the piece
of rye then proceeds to peck. And peck.
Darren watches. The bird snatches
the rest of the bread and flies back
into the sky. Another bird comes
and hops to his feet. “Sorry,” he says,
“that was all the bread I had.”
The bird caws. And so do the rest.

It takes all their bread and all their food
but Darren is able to feed all the birds
and he watches each one return to the Gods.
“It’s all gone,” Carrie asks. “Yes, they’re all gone.”
“No, I mean the food.” She opens the cabinet.
“Even the cereal?” “I…I had to. They were
going to follow me for the rest of my life.”
She looks at him. “They were just birds,
Darren.” “But the Gods–” “They don’t do
such things anymore. You know this.”

Night. In bed. His eyes fixed
to the window, waiting for something
to crow at him behind the glass. Maybe
Carrie was right. Maybe he isn’t so
rational. Darren’s eyes eventually tire
and his mind circles itself.

Written for this year’s A-Z Challenge.