Darren:

Another lobbyist shot, and now a scientist. It’s all Nemus, but they’re blaming Cremston. I guess that’s what Nemus wants, to escalate things further. Not sure why. Were the past few decades of bloodshed not enough?

Right now Carrie and I are living with my Dad in his house. He’s sympathetic but he still doesn’t understand why I haven’t been able to find a job. He also doesn’t understand Carrie’s change in personality. He’s an old man; you can tell him something a thousand times but he can never accept a younger person’s words. He’s stuck in his own reality.

I don’t think he realizes how things have already collapsed. Inflation, the war, the murders, the mass unemployment. We all just move around the day with our eyes closed. I think I’m starting to understand why Carrie wants to move to the countryside, but there’s no housing, at least not anything affordable. Maybe we can take a chance and find a village in one of the unoccupied territories. A part of me doesn’t want to leave, but I have to accept the fact that Enzoberg isn’t my home anymore. The streets, the buildings, the trees—all seem distant.

Maybe it started further back when Neil died. Everyone called him a hero and so did I, but a deep part of me didn’t understand it; maybe calling him a hero was the only way I could accept his death, but his death was meaningless. The state just threw him onto a muddy field like they did so many, and for what?

…

My father is losing his patience with us. He just doesn’t get it. It’s fine though—we’re going to finally get out of here and find some place in the country. We have no money but it’s better than being here. And maybe it will help Carrie.

…

We were about to leave, but something arose from the ocean. It’s hard to explain; everyone else seems unable to explain it as well other than a possible sign from the Gods, or a new type of super weapon. All we know is something large and gray and amorphous came out of the sea and is floating across the land, absorbing anything that is within its pull. And it seems to be slowly headed this way.

People are trying desperately to escape, but Enzoberg is on lock-down; the roads are closed; soldiers march the streets. Carrie has been watching the strange shape on her phone, transfixed. My father says it’s the gods. “Yep,” he says, “the Gods seem displeased with us, but all you can do is your best.” I don’t know how he manages to have such a lackadaisical attitude.

Perhaps it is The Gray One that the “tale-weaver” had told me about, the entity that had put Carrie in a coma. I don’t know…but whatever it is, we need to get out of here.

Simon:

I rush over to Darren’s apartment–
wait, would the Gods see me?
No, they don’t care about him
anymore. And they do not expect
me to be free. In case, I find a hat
and glasses. A true master
of subterfuge.

However, when I reach his apartment
it is empty. I discover he is gone,
finally evicted from his home. I go
to the hospital where Carrie had laid;
turns out she had awaken not too long
ago and went with Darren. A strange
melancholy lingers as I sit in one
of the white hallways. A feeling tells
me that they will be okay. The Gods
are out of their lives it seems. And I am
as well.

Soon, I find myself wandering
into the Diamond Hills, were many
of Enzoberg’s big-shots dwell. Where
I used to go to parties. And soon,
I am standing in front of the home
Easton Wilshine, my former agent
who initiated my downfall.

It is starting to get dark as I float
pass the cameras and up to the 2nd floor
balcony, and slide through the glass.
The bedroom is empty. I walk down
the hall and see his office door open.

“Margo, are you there?” I hear his voice.
I don’t answer and slowly step forth.
And there he is at his desk and here
I am at the threshold. He stares at me.
“What the fuck? Simon? No, you’re…
I’ve finally gone mad.”

“No, you’re just going bald.”

He bolts up. “I—how–I–” he scrambles
for the gun in his desk drawer then
points it at me. “You’re dead. You–
I saw you lower your body. I mean them.”

“You did,” I step closer.

“DON’T! This can’t be right.
You’re a twin. Or you’re using
an AI mask, or—”

“Easton, this isn’t one of my novels.”

The gun shakes in his hand.

“You can shoot me. I won’t feel it.
You’ve already killed me.”

“I…I didn’t kill you!”

“No, you just tied the noose.
You fed me to the wolves in order
to save your own skin. You bastard.”

“I…I know. I’m sorry. But they were
going to ruin my life! I didn’t think
things would get this bad!”

“They tossed me in a cell. A little
windowless room. And when I contracted
plague, they let me die. Now,
I don’t feel anything at all. But maybe,
if you pull that trigger, something
might come back to me. A little bit
of life.”

Instead, he sets the gun on his desk
and sits. His face now in his hands.

“Are we hiding now?”

He sobs.

“I’ve lost it.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I can’t believe this is—” his eyes
back up at me. Red. Wet. I reach over
and snatch his gun away.

“I never took you for a gunslinger.”
I toss it out the window and it disappears
in the growing shadow of the day.

“Well, hopefully it was worth it.
Did you at least get something decent
published? I should be madder at you.
I don’t know why. I guess it’s because
you were just doing what is expected
just like how the state was doing
what was expected of it when it black-
mailed you. Everything and everyone
filling their roles. Maybe it will all
be different. Maybe it will take
Enzoberg and Cremston to finally
nuke each other into glass for a new world
to crawl from underneath. But then
there are the Gods…not sure what
can be done about them.” I sigh
and see that Easton is still bewildered,
eyes widening at me. I give him a kiss
and leave him and walk through
the neighborhood of Diamond Hills
as the night thickens above the trees.

Written for the A-Z Challenge.

The Gray One:

I should have just taken over
her body. I believed it would have been wrong
to not allow her to make the choice
but she was incapable. Her mind
spiraled the same ideas over and over,
the same emotions, the same insecurities.
All mortals are the same. The Gods
are worse. Afflatus over there
mutters to himself, wasting his time
making food and cursing his brother,
Merrick. I remember when they were
mere mortals. They killed many
of our kind to attain our powers.
Now look at him. He’s imprisoned
just like me.

Us “old ones” weren’t that much
better but at least we respected
one another. We all lived together
harmoniously with the world,
with the universe. Despite
our abilities, we did not dare
try to suffocate the sky
or entrap the earth. We were
parts of the universe. But then
some of us were born without
abilities, the “mortals.” They
were weak but their greatest
weakness were their minds,
their souls sought to grasp
the world as if it were something
to be seized. They resented
us for being born different;
they couldn’t just accept
that they were merely lesser
parts of the universe. Even
the lone ant is still part
of the greater expanse, an extension
of all.

But Carrie shied away
from what I offered.
Maybe there is wisdom there
or foolishness. The mortals,
maybe we should have tried
to better understand them,
to understand their fragility,
their lack of ability. Perhaps,
we allowed them to become
this way. But it’s too late now.
I try to stretch against the tile
and plaster, but my edges slip
away, failing to grasp. I miss
having form, having hands,
having a face and legs. Perhaps,
this is how the Gods and mortals
are teaching me how it is to be
powerless. It is working.

Afflatus:

What if I threw things
at The Gray One? Would it
grow and tear a hole through
this prison? Can it overtake
the void? Why did we decide
to remove her form? Sure,
she deserved it for her arrogance,
but now she/it is useless to me.
And where’s What’s-His-Face?
He scampered off, probably
disappeared into the void,
or is trying to look for the old
narrator. Good luck. He knows
nothing of this place. He may
be a ghost, but his mind is still
mortal. This place will stretch
his little mind asunder.
Will I miss someone
to talk to? Nay. I won’t
miss him.

I’m not
getting out of here
it seems. No,
I cannot think this.
I cannot allow
Merrick, to win.
Where did we go
awry? Nay, it was always
destiny to be at each other’s
throats. It seemed like
he was born to keep me
in check. Well, he finally
won. Won over the chaos.
But he has no purpose.
Soon he will have
no choice but to free
me. It would be a mistake
if he did.

Simon:

Was it this way? Or that way?
Now I’m seeing more abstract
things. Misshapes. Dark, muted
colors, sculptures appearing to be
broken bodies or machines. This
was a mistake. But I need to get
out. The old narrator is the only way
I think. Deep-down, he is more
powerful than the gods.

“You’ve come to see me?”
A voice descends the stairs
over there. “You were the one
who replaced me, right?”

“Yes, but I could never
replace you. I mean, I did OK.
But I was a hack when I was—”

He raises his hand and I am
silenced. “Come up this way.”
Up the concrete steps he goes
and so I follow.

Up here, stars and galaxies,
plumes of cosmic glow.
“This is some art gallery,”
I blurt out. When I’m nervous
I try to be funny.

“The gods don’t know
about this space I’ve placed
here.”

“Aren’t you a god as well?
Or an old one? Or…”

“To be honest, I don’t know
what I am. I’ve always existed
and seen various universes
and races occupy those universes.
Maybe I’m simply another part
of existence, like gravity
or mass.”

“But that means you can leave,
right?”

“Oh, I don’t think I can leave.”

“No, I mean leave this prison.
Like this literal prison, not
the universe itself.”

“Right. Of course. Unfortunately
I have power, but I’m not
as powerful as the gods.
I’m merely an observer. I don’t
act or influence.”

“Okay, but you said you built
this…space. Can you make a door
and could that door lead us
out of here?”

“That’s a better idea than letting
the Gray One absorb me.”

“So you can do it?”

“No. You will have to find
your own way out. Or you can
wait a little while. And take
a look at the stars here.
Or the works of art below.
When you were alive you had
no time to gaze upon it all.
Now you have a near-eternity
before this universe begins
to deteriorate.”

“Deteriorate?”

“Yes. Each universe eventually
falls apart and turns into chaos.
No planets. No stars. No space.
No mass. No light. No time.
Just atomic noise. But then
amid the noise, two particles
collide and mass finds itself
again. And a new universe
ignites itself.”

“That…is not ideal for me.”

We stand for a moment
surrounded by the blackness
of space and the echoes
of stars.

“But there must be someway
you can help me. Maybe
just point me in the right
direction.”

“If I do that then what
would you do? You would be
in the ocean. And the gods
will surely spot you
and summon you back here.
Or even destroy you.”

I start to feel sick. I bend down
and grab at my face and head.
“I shouldn’t have spoken
to Afflatus. I shouldn’t have
spoken to Darren. I was a bad
narrator.”

“Hm. I was a decent narrator
and look where I am. The gods
don’t care whether you are good
or bad, just whether you’re useful
in the moment. Everything is
power. Utility. They can’t stop
and look at a painting or a canyon
or a blade of grass.”

“Where do I go? This is Hell!
This is Hell! I’m stuck here
for eternity! Until it all dies!
I wasted my life! I wasted
everything! I fucking wasted
it all!”

I feel the old man’s hand
on my shoulder. It is small
and frail and human-like
and my voice rolls back
into my throat.
“Let me show you something.”
He takes me to another part
of the universe and reveals
to me a faint dot hovering
over there. “Look closer.”
I do. It’s Earth. I see the oceans
and the land and the clouds.
“Look closer.” I see
mountains and canyons
and forests and trees.
I then see Enzoberg.
“Closer.” The tops of buildings.
Cars. My feet on concrete.
I look around. People walk
around me. The sky is blue.
I feel the wind sweep
against my skin. Is this
an illusion? Am I really
back?

Will the Gods notice
that I’m now free?
I don’t know. But I am
free, I think. The old man
did it. Did he feel bad
for me? I run through
the throngs of faces
and catch myself
in a reflection. I touch
my face. I don’t know
if I’m alive. But I’m here.
That’s enough for now.

Written for the A-Z Challenge.

Darren:

I think the Gods are done with me. At least I hope they are. I haven’t seen Afflatus nor Simon. There haven’t been any black birds; even my annoying neighbor is gone.

And Carrie is awake. She doesn’t remember The Gray One or the “Anomaly” that was in our kitchen, or the black birds. She doesn’t recall what she was dreaming of for all those weeks, but her memory seems to be mostly intact.

It’s great that she’s finally awake!…But she’s different. Not that different, but distant. The doctors had mentioned that personality changes are common, but she no longer streams and hardly plays games. It’s as if something I had ripped the personality out of her. Right now she’s looking out across our balcony, eyes dull against the light of the city. Earlier today, I asked her what was on her mind and she actually answered: the country. That’s all she said. Plainly. As if making a simple observation. I had never heard ever mention the countryside. And before I thought I had trouble reaching out to her.

I don’t know where Axel had gone. A defense contractor and his wife had been killed outside their home the day Axel came here in a panic. The news attributed the assassination to Cremston, of course, but I’m sure they’re after Axel and Nemus. I hope they haven’t found him…but I’m guessing they have.

I’m powerless. Powerless to help Carrie. To help Axel. I’ve been thinking about my brother and how he would handle all this. But my guess is that he wouldn’t been in this situation in the first place. He would be married with 2 kids nestled in the suburbs.

Maybe I failed the trials. Perhaps the Gods gave me an opportunity and I had squandered it. I was too small and cowardly. I shouldn’t have left the hospital room. I should have entered Carrie’s mind. I look over at Carrie. There’s nothing in her eyes. And nothing in mine.

Carrie:

I keep thinking about them
and how they disappeared
into screaming and smoke.
And the face of the tank
emerging from the fog
and the hill no longer lush
but gray. I don’t know
where this vision is coming
from; this memory isn’t
my own.

Ever since waking up
nothing feels right.
My body doesn’t feel
like mine; and my life
before seems like
a movie. And these
buildings and streets
crowding this window
seem grafted on
from another time.
There’s something
behind them. Something
real. A vast and green
memory that drops
into a valley filled
with trees.

I have dreams about
Neil, but his face now
seems hollow and dirty
and mindless, as if he is
every soldier, every war
mindlessly fighting,
tearing through the grass.
How could I have loved
him, or anyone?

Another face comes to me
when I close my eyes,
when I gaze at the crowds,
when I pass a reflection.
Another face. I can almost
recognize.

Axel:

This is it. I bungled it. Mom was right…by the Gods I hope she’s okay. Nah, she’s probably having a conniption. She’s talking to the police now and making this whole situation about her self. But she now longer has to worry, I’m many miles away. I managed to get smuggled out of Enzoberg. Now I’m plastered in a small room in one of the free-states, dreaming of the coast. Yeah, that’s where I’m going, I guess. Seems nice though, to be by the vast water. Though the smell’s making me queasy. I’ll feel better tomorrow. Maybe I’ll find a good woman in one of the fishing villages. The wife of a dead sailor. I can take his place and take good care of her. That’s all I need is someone to take care of. I’ve been too wild, too free to gamble and drive around and get pulled into other’s schemes. Nemus, don’t know what he’s planning but kudos to him, I guess. Hope he tears down Enzoberg. It’ll be good for everyone if Enzoberg falls into pieces. That’s what it needs. A nation-state can get too old, too stagnant. I don’t know. I’m not a political philosopher. Just a drunken loser in some room in one of the free-states. Maybe I should change my name. Would it be weird if I took Darren’s? Nah, I don’t want him get more mixed up than this he probably is. By the Gods, he’s probably being questioned by the police now. Man, I really bungled this. Mom was right…Mom was right…She doesn’t have to worry about me anymore. Nor does Darren, or anyone. I’m going to be by the sea away from everything including myself. Maybe I’ll get there by tomorrow. Can’t wait. But I’m gonna need some more cash. Well, that’s a problem for tomorrow. For tomorrow…tomorrow…sorry Mom…tomorrow will be different…

Written for the A-Z Challenge.

The nurse continues to stare.

“Wait, do you recognize me,”
I ask the nurse. I was somewhat
notable when I was alive. I
wrote some books. Even
a screenplay.

But she screams and I leap
through the window. And I
float across the sky. “Hopefully
no one can see me,” I say
to myself as I try to think
where Darren might be.
How was the previous guy
able to keep track of anyone?
But I’m distracted by the fact
that I’m flying casually above
the buildings and streets
and people. The realization
startles me and I nearly
drop, but I fix myself
and dive back upward,
my heart making all sorts
of movements.

I wonder if I were to
drop a shoe on someone…
I read something years ago
about the possibility of
slicing through someone
by dropping a quarter from
the top of a skyscraper.
Then I remember I need to
locate Afflatus as well.
Apparently the God of Chaos
is being himself. You would
think they would have him
on a tighter leash. Not sure
why they had him go down
in the first place. The Gods
are strange. (remind me
to scratch that out later.)

I’m suddenly over the blue
silence of the ocean. It’s easy
to become lost when you’re
untethered suddenly and able
to see life from an impossible
angle. You start thinking
strange thoughts like I was
instead of the things that matter.

I try zipping back to Enzoberg
but I don’t see its shape rising
from the horizon. I go this direction
then that direction. Then I fly
back up to where the Gods reside
to reorient myself. And from this
view I see Enzoberg, Cremston
and all the small states and tribes
in-between. I start understanding
the Gods a bit better. I swoop
back down and somehow
I sense Darren’s presence.
He is walking out of an office
building and goes to sit
at a bus stop. I land on top
a building, rush down the fire
escape. I run across the street
and sit next to him.

“Phew! Thought I would
miss the bus! It hasn’t come yet
right?”

Darren shakes his head.

“Nice suit. Job interview?”

“Yeah. 3rd round of interviews.
When is it going to end?”

“Well, if you’re on the 3rd round
it must mean they like you, right?”

“Right. Sure…Sorry, do I know
you?”

“Um, no. Nope. Okay, I’ve written
a couple books. One of them
even got made into a movie.”

“Oh. I never understood how
people could do that.”

“Make movies?”

“No. I mean, yeah. But just
create something out of nothing
with just a few words on paper.”

“Well, it takes more than few
words usually. To be honest
I was never that good. I just
sort of fell into it.”

“You fell into writing books?”

“Well, like you, I was unemployed
and had no friends, no money—”

“I have friends.”

“—and nothing better to do
so I figured, ‘hey, why not?’
Just got really lucky that my pops
knew a guy who knew a guy
who knew this big-time literary
agent, Easton Wilshine. Great name,
lousy individual. I think he was
the one who got me killed.”

“Oh…”

“Oh sorry. I’m not crazy.
I meant killed in a metaphorical
sense. My career. You see,
there were some rumors that
Easton was engaging in some
‘alternative encounters’ and was
blackmailed by the state to give
up names of artists who had
‘socialist-leanings’ and attended
‘communist get-togethers.’
Sure, I had some leanings,
admittedly, but I was only in it
for the parties. And the wine.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry, I doubt
talking to me will hinder
your efforts at getting a job.
I’m a nobody now.”

“Well, that makes two of us.
If I have to do another
round of interviews I’m joining
the military.”

“No offense but aren’t you—”

“Old? They raised the age.”

“Oh. Things are going that well
war-wise, eh?”

“Those always are.”

“Yup. Oh, and have you
contended with anything strange
lately?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You know. Like from the Gods?”

He gives me a look.

“The Gods gave me a job
to record your ‘trials’ so to speak.
I probably shouldn’t be talking
to you but…”

“Why are the Gods doing this
to me?”

“Um, they didn’t say. But they
have their reasons.”

“But I’m no one. I’m just some guy.
I’m not some great warrior or a king
trying to live forever or a scientist
trying to unlock the universe. Just
some guy.”

“Well, maybe that’s it. They know
how warriors and kings deal with
trials. But what about the average
fella?”

“Okay, but why me specifically?”

I shrug. I wish I could tell him more.

“And why Carrie? Are the Gods
testing her as well?”

“Well if they are she’s not doing
too well.”

He shoots me another look.

“Sorry. But I think her coma
was just collateral damage.”

“That’s…so does that mean
everyone I know is going to be
hurt because of me?”

“Well, no. Not necessarily. But
I think we’ve strayed from the
subject. Now, the last guy
missed some of your trials
and I’m hoping—”

“I think I’m going to walk instead.”

“What? In this heat? Well
let me—”

“I’d rather walk alone if that’s
alright. I’ve got a lot to think
about.”

“Sure, sure. I bet. But I need—”

But he starts walking. And I follow.

Written for the A-Z Challenge.

And so the last guy was
put in a box and placed beneath
the ocean which is, um…okay
I probably shouldn’t discuss that,
anyway I am the new narrator
or tale-weaver…sorry I have
to confer with his notes. Okay…
so um…looks like there were
some trials he missed…no
problem…it’s fine, but I should
rush down to Enzoberg and
see how Darren is fairing. Or
is it faring? Um…I shouldn’t
be doing this. I was a writer
when I was alive, but I
wasn’t all that great. Got
published sure, but poetry
or fiction weren’t my
strong suits. but uh
anyway–

Now I’m below. And
he’s not here. Oh um–

At the hospital where
Carrie is comatose. He is
not here either.

…should I just wait?
I write in my notepad here.
Make a little doodle, waiting.
But then I remember the
last guy had jumped into
Carrie’s head. Should I
do that? Seems a bit
weird. I guess a tale-weaver
needs to be weird. I
don’t know.

So I step into her
forehead and I realize
I’ve never done
this before. I see her
brain I think. Lots of
red. Messy. I could
never have been a
surgeon. Anyway
how do I step inside

Suddenly I’m in a
field. Grass surrounding
but all the color is muted.
I pull out the previous
entries. This seems
familiar. I hear voices.

I hide behind the other
side of the hill and hear them,
Carrie and I think The Gray One.

“Have you thought about
my offer, Carrie?”

Carrie says something
but I can’t hear. There is
a way for me to turn
invisible but I forgot how
so I can’t get closer.

“If you help me, I will help
you wake up. Do you not
want to see your world again?
And do you want to help
Darren and everyone you know?”

“I don’t know. I’m starting
to like it here.”

“You can stay for a little
longer. But soon you will want
to return to home.”

“Sure. That may be true.
But I’m not sure if I’m crazy
about becoming a weapon.”

“But from what I’ve seen
you want to be a weapon.
I watched you fight
in the trenches of your mind.
Killing Cremston soldiers.
Violence moves your mind.”

Carrie mutters something.

“I apologize, Carrie. I–
I’ve been a captive
of the Gods for so long
and so has the one
we call J. But please, at least–
someone else is here.”

“Neil?”

“No. I’m not sure.”

I bolt down the hill
but before I can gain
any distance, the ground
opens before me and I
slam into a trench. Barbed
wire emerges and closes
the mouth of the trench
above. I grab the wire
and the metal cuts
my hands. Now there’s
blood as I write. A face
looks down at me.
The face of the Gray
One. Her face is
colorless, her irises
empty. But there is
a strange serenity
to her. Or maybe I
wait—I can just leave.

And suddenly I’m out
of Carrie’s head and back
in the hospital room.
A nurse stands there,
eyes wide and mouth agape.

“Um, you didn’t
see me,” I tell her.

She doesn’t respond.

“Oh and do you know
where Darren is?”

Written for the A-Z Challenge.