Tired?

Same.

I do not think I have ever been so tired in my entire life.

Do you feel the same?

The days are filled with love, laughter, frustrations, decisions. I am exhausted.

But when night comes, I cannot sleep.

Dreams are vague and disparate.

I grind my teeth so much my cat smacks me in the face.

I wake up and stare at the shadows. Are they tired too?

Am I a shadow?

If you have suggestions, dear reader, let me know so I can ignore them.

Too tired to try harder. Too tired to think more.

I am afraid no one gets my best anymore, not even myself.

Do you feel the same?

Do we feel the same as before?

Do we feel anymore?

If this made you feel a thing, feel free to visit my page and read some of my stories. They may help you sleep. ūüėČ

Don’t Tread on Me

Click here to read the part before.

The crowd was bigger than expected, but so was the news.

The signs read a variety of slogans: Fuck the Chinese, Fuck the Government, Fuck Newsom. Basically the same as usual protests. But this was not a usual protest.

Everyone was brandishing their rifles openly, unslung. Someone even drove a technical, having converted a Dodge Ram into a badass anti-air gun. R.J. was just as quiet as usual. But behind his stoic face was a tense fear. A fear that seemed to make the shadows wet and darker than usual.

“So much for that stupid fucking stay at home order!!” Someone shouted. The crowd gleefully responded.

“They can’t tell Americans what to do! If the government doesn’t serve our interests…”

“Right! To! Revolt!” The crowd responded and cheered.

“That’s right!! It’s in the Constitution!!!” He pumped his fist in the air, spit flying from his mouth.

It actually was from the Declaration of Independence, R.J. thought to himself. But it didn’t matter. He agreed with the sentiment. The hand resting on his pistol trembled a bit, and he gripped it tighter. What if the Chinese really were invading?

“If the CHII-NEESE are invading… Why is it so quiet out here except for us?!” The crowd roared in response. One person, R.J. noticed, was not cheering, and was looking down at their phone. He continued chanting “U.S.A.” as he walked over to them. His job was to keep an eye out for Fed plants. Robert was always the observant one of their group.

“What is so interesting?” R.J. said as he grabbed their phone. They looked up in a jerk, the movement removing their sweater hood. It was a young man, maybe 15.

“I can’t tell what is real anymore, and what… isn’t…” The kid couldn’t be heard, but Robert could read his lips.

“Sorry kid, I thought… Wait what is this?” Robert looked at the phone screen, and was seeing a news broadcast of San Francisco burning. He radioed for Stephens to come over, away from his post at the edge of the protest. Stephens could barely hear his radio crackle over the din of the crowd, but he made it over.

“Probably fake.” He dismissed quickly. They all watched together as the Golden Gate Bridge slowly bent and collapsed into the bay. The kid snatched his phone back.

“I need to find my mom.” He said as he pushed away into the crowd. His own phone went off again in his pocket. So did everyone’s, apparently. Everyone stopped for a moment, the sound dying a bit as emergency alert sounds buzzed and beeped.

Warning. Please evacuate immediately. Stay at home order in effect. Barricade doors and windows. Turn on news radio.

The quiet began to give away to quiet chuckles and curses of skepticism and disbelief. But before the crowd got loud again everyone could hear it. A loud, constant whirring sound seemed to fill the air, growing louder. Men brandished their rifles in confusion.

“Everyone get behind the trucks.” Stephens spit into the radio. They set up a semi circle of trucks outside the Courthouse to protect from the cops that never came to stop their protest. Flags mounted in the back of some hung listlessly in the stagnant, hot air. “Everyone, stay calm!” he boomed. “They’re trying to scare us”.

Robert saw it first. High in the sky, a drone seemed to hang overhead. Something fell from it.

Orange. Red.

Ringing in his ears and an intense pressure in his head, he thought he would pop. His heart seemed to stop in his chest.

Black. Brown. Smoke, dirt. Red blood on a flapping yellow background, a snake seemed to spit blood.

“What the fuck is happeni-” Robert suddenly realized he was probably deaf now. He felt blood coming from his ears as he realized what had happened. Stephens strong arm stuck out from under a torn piece of metal, twitching slightly, finger on the trigger of his rifle. The gun was pointed at R.J., but he just stared at it for a moment. He could not hear, but he could smell. The smell of piss came from him. There was another smell though, something familiar.

Coppery. Blood. The area around him was a moving crater, filled with a sea of gore that twitched and moaned.

“What the fuck” Robert could feel himself crying but could not hear himself sobbing. He saw an eye floating, looking at the sky filling with dust and smoke. The cornea rotated downward to stare into blood and dirt. Robert vomited and tried to pull himself up.

The shadows were darker that day. It was not R.J.’s imagination. They watched. They were the real reason he felt so cold, it was not his terror. Not his disgust. Their eyes were innumerable, and they relished in the feast of flesh. They stared through Robert, some even using Robert to see. He felt his mind twitch inside his skull and he began shivering uncontrollably. He started to crawl away, pulling himself over a body that begged for help. Robert couldn’t hear, but he read the lips that bubbled and trembled as he passed over half of a face.


A boat off the coast of California bobbed easily in the waves.

An officer looked over the shoulder of a young man, and they congratulated each other as they looked at the computer monitor together. A greyscale view of a smoking city. Hot white flashes of white popped intermittently. Other young men at other computers were engrossed in their work. The sounds of computer fans whirring and clicking filled the room.

With a pat on the back, the officer walked briskly back to the CIC, informing the communications officer to relay the operation’s success. While the bulk of the forces made their land invasion, his detachment was already whittling away at the insurgency they knew would come after their initial invasion. There might even be a promotion, if the drones all make it back safely.

An officer in the August 1st Building in Beijing hung up his phone, smiling as he walked out of his office to relay the news. He nearly trotted down the hall, past rooms filled with personnel on computers, using Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. Helping to organize more “Freedom Rallies” in the United States and disputing the facts that American news services were sharing. A rumor had already started that the massacres of rallies in California was a False Flag attack, as was the invasion itself. Naturally.

Shadows hid inside of the keys of each computer, laughing as they greased them. Helping them type faster.


“This is… Fun.” A voice echoed in the infinite darkness between worlds. “Truly… Entertaining.”

“Yes. What a terrible universe.” Another shadow mumbled and muttered. “Terrible” the void echoed.

“Can we play more here?” Others hissed in agreement.

“We have work to do elsewhere. Another scenario. Requested.” The first voice rumbled. The others hissed and hushed.

“Work is pleasure.” Rumbles.

“Work is pleasure.” Replied.

Click here for the next part!

Grisly Glee

The part before.

The crowd shifted and ebbed and flowed and Lowman felt sick to his stomach.¬† Grabbing his head he also steadied himself on a bulkhead nearby, letting his gun dangle by its strap.¬† If he wasn’t careful, he would blow what little food he had inside him all over the fucking place.

Breathe in.  Hold it.  4 seconds.
Breathe Out.  Keep it out.  4 seconds. Focus. 

SHAME! SHAME! SHAME! SHAME!

The crowd chanted as it pushed forward, the poor folks in the front screamed as the electric wall crackled and bulged against their flesh.  Kinsey was pissed.

“Get your shit together!” He hissed as he raised his weapon at the crowd.¬† Lowman did the same. A loud whirr came from behind them, like a gigantic RC car.

“Hello.¬† I am here to distribute the bio-suppressant.”¬† The pleasant and bright voice chimed out of the gigantic box robot.¬† Robert walked up to its side and pounded his fist on the opening mechanism.

“Thank you for your asssistance!” it chirped with glee.¬† “Here are the syringes.”¬† The crowd clamored forward again, the folks in the front were already pressed to death.¬† The electricity singed their lips away, crackling at their teeth.¬† Some were already showing skull.¬† Robert was feeling good for a minute but the smell…¬† He burped.

He couldn’t tell what was making him more sick, his hunger or the smell of burning flesh.¬† Or the screams?¬† The robot extended its tray out into the crowd, and Robert loaded the syringes onto the conveyor belt as it rolled into the crowd.¬† Some got caught under it.¬† People were rushing to inject themselves with the bio-suppressant.¬† Once injected, they helped distribute.¬† The roar of the crowd became a moan.¬† Wailing and hushed breathing.¬† Waiting and crying.¬† Then murmuring.

“Is there no more?!”¬† Someone shouted.¬† “We are out?” cried another.

Robert and Kinsey both looked at each other as a red light flashed to the horrifying blue.

“Biogenic weapon signature detected.” the ships computer coolly chimed. “Please take proper precautions and – – — ——————”

A silence filled the air as a bright green light swept through the ship.  Every deck was scanned from top to bottom then from port to starboard, the shields did not block anything.  Roberts stomach churned and his throat burned with acid as the crowd screamed, children wailing shrill and panicked.  One was staring with no expression, his mother smoking before him and writhing in pain.

His face bubbled and twisted, his eyes falling out and pooling into the puddle of flesh that used to be a little boy.  The pile moved and twisted and the people around were rushing and scrambling to get away as a large fleshy proboscis shot out of the mush, grabbing a man by the leg.

Robert and Kinsey opened fire, drowning out the terror before them.  Some folks were partially transforming, the larger people need large doses of the suppressant it seems.  One woman was half melted and moaning as the child-blob finally was dispersed, chunks of fleshy matter scattered and smoking.  No blood.  All chunks.

What used to be the woman’s hand had twisted itself into a rudimentary mouth and was attacking her torso.¬† She used her other arm to try and push it away as Kinsey walked up to her.¬† The electric wall parted smoothly as he walked toward it, closing behind him and Robert as they moved into the cargo bay.¬† Kinsey kicked her down and stood with one boot on her chest as he aimed his rifle and did a battlefield amputation on the affected limb.

Her eyes were wide with shock and the screams were honestly unheard at this point.  The whole cargo bay was now flooded with soldiers now, amputating and finishing off halflings.  Luckily there were no other full transformations.

“Robbie, get a look at this shit.”¬† Robbie didn’t really want to see, but he felt himself moving there.¬† He felt like he was floating now, empty almost.

“Now what?”

Kinsey was crouching in the far corner of the cargo bay, behind some wooden boxes.

It was a horrible pile of fur and claws and eyes, pulsing.  Purring.

“Looks like that shit blends cats too.”

Robert stared.  He remembered the cat he used to have.  A hand tapped his shoulder, and he turned to see the old man from before.

Shockingly white hair he had, was all Robert really noticed as he raised his gun at the man.

“Get the fuck back.”

“R.J.¬† We meet again.¬† How is your wife?”¬† Robert stiffened up and pushed his gun into the man’s chest.¬† The man stared into Robert’s eyes with a remarkable warmth despite their iciness.

“What are you talking about old man?¬† How do you know my middle name?¬† I don’t have a wife anymore.”

“Think of the fence.¬† The house.¬† The place that was filled with love and despite that you still lost hope.¬† Do you remember yet?”

A klaxon fired off, lightning shooting through his arms.  Robert pushed the old man down and he still did not break eye contact.

“Think about her R.J.¬† she misses you.¬† They are all looking for you right now and they can’t find you because you aren’t there anymore.¬† You are nowhere right now.”

Please brace for impact.  

The computer calmly chimed over the roar of the crowd again.

“We gotta get the fuck out of here Robbie!!” Kinsey grabbed his arm and started hustling him away, shooting a large man trying to wrestle his gun away from him.¬† Kinsey was dragging Robert behind him, he was still staring at the old man he could swear he had known before.¬† Before all of this?

Think of her

Robert wasn’t the best at reading lips and he didn’t have time to ask the man what he said.¬† An alien Marauder slammed into their ship, tearing open the cargo bay.¬† The room sounded like a giant vacuum cleaner for a few moments, then silent as everyone floated into space.¬† A final cold embrace.¬† Robert saw the old man floating, and read his lips again.¬† He seemed calm and pristine despite the swirling hundreds of near-dead people fighting to breathe in an empty place.

“Think of her?”¬† As he slipped away, he saw someone with long dark hair.¬† A woman he had dreamed about?

He wanted to shout.  He tried and heard nothing.

A chuckle..?  

Click here for the next part! 

Bathing Betrayal in Blood

Click here for the part before. 

The corpse of his bodyguard stood headless across from him.

The blade materialized into the hand of the carcass, and in one fluid motion it lowered its level and darted toward him.

Robert saw the puppet’s strings now, a slight light in the dark.¬† The light of the moon gleamed off them as he took a quick breath.

Would it be enough?

Robert pulled his sword back and steeled himself.  The body ran nearly parallel to the ground and its feet moved fast.  Impossibly fast.

Blood spurting from the neck stump, the puppet swung up — then straight forward in a fencing thrust.

Fuck.

Robert had already committed to the upswing, bringing his sword over and down at the wrong angle.

Dropping a foot back in a hard pivot threw out his knee and avoided the thrust of the corpse puppet.  Mostly. The sting in his side was nothing compared to whatever the hell happened to his knee, which screamed at him in agony.

Where is he –¬†

Another person appeared near him, behind him.

To the right..? 

A blade appeared at his throat, to his dismay.  Then, it fell away.  A limp body collapsed behind him.  Slowly, very slowly he turned to look and saw his son.  Much older than when he last saw him.

“Tristan?”

“I have news, m’ Lord”¬† He tossed a blade with the flick of his wrist into a bush nearby, and the bush screamed and out slumped the puppeteer.

“… Maybe call a healer first.” Robert grunted.¬† He stared at the dead puppeteer. an elf with a raven emblazoned on his forehead.¬† Green eyes staring angrily in death.¬† A strong glow emanated from Tristan’s hands, snapping tendons and miscellaneous sinew back into place, rippling visibly underneath his skin.¬† Robert grit his teeth and grunted in agony, to the delight of the darkness around them.¬† The coppery smell of blood lingered in the air.

Invisible hands rubbed together and ancient lips licked, smacking loudly — but Robert couldn’t hear.

“Thank you.”¬† Robert when did you learn that?”

“That’s what I wanted to tell you.¬† The news I mean.”¬† Tristan grinned just like Robert and more often than Robert.¬† Normally it irritated Robert.¬† A laugh came naturally from both.

“I do have other news, sir.” Tristan narrowed his eyes.¬† Even his curly brown hair looked more serious.

“One half of the Ravens is willing to talk terms.”

They’re willing to talk?¬† And half?” Robert scoffed.

“They’re not monolithic, sir.¬† Many groups tire of the fighting and are willing to talk.¬† Probably half of them want to use this as a ruse to kill some of us.¬† But the other half of that –”

“So, maybe 1/4 of them is willing to talk?”

“But it is that small group that is important.”

“No…Impossible.”

“It’s exactly who you think it is.¬† They survived…” He stared intensely and paused, gauging Robert’s response.

“…However”.¬† Robert exhaled forcefully through his nose in a half laugh.

“However… they want a marriage.¬† And familial rights to the council.¬† Seats on the Senate.¬† Votes.”

Now it was Robert’s turn to pause.

“They seriously are willing to consider this?¬† What proof do I have?”¬† Robert rubbed his knee and stood.¬† A paper rustled, a sealed scroll.¬† Sealed with a dark wax.¬† Peace?

The scroll bore the ancient seal of Elven blood.¬† Something that hasn’t been seen for 30 years.¬† Describing the terms, concession of all Elven territory in exchange for representation.¬† A self-defense force for Elves.¬† Additionally, an illustration was rolled up along with the document.¬† A skillful hand had drawn a most delicate picture of a rare prize.

An Elven princess.¬† For Robert’s hand.

“But I am already married.”¬† Tristan stood silent.

“Father… You know she has been dead for nearly ten years now.”

They stared at each other.  The moon stared too.

“What…?” Robert’s head suddenly hurt very badly and he had to sit down from the sudden wave of nausea.¬† Memories of her long black hair in his hands flooded his mind amidst the tears.

“We need to get you to a proper healer.”¬† Tristan whispered to him as he put Robert’s arm around his shoulder.¬† “Let us leave this grim place.¬† Rally the Halharken.”¬† Tristan now spoke loudly to the scouts gathered around him.

They stood unresponsive to Tristan’s command.¬† Tristan steadied himself under the weight of his father and prepared to shout again.¬† Omar stepped forward from the troops with a face as sullen as Robert felt.¬† He held a scroll in his hand.

“Tristan, step away from Robert.” Omar’s voice was barely a whisper.¬† Tristan scoffed.

“What?¬† Rally your troop and prepare to move to the capital.¬† We do not have time for this.”

Robert was feeling steadier, and stood on his own now.  Shoulder to shoulder with his blood.  He leaned to Tristan and spoke softer than Omar.

“Something is wrong.”

“BY ORDER OF THE KING, RULER OF ALL MEN AND ELF AND HALFBREED.¬† STEP AWAY FROM LORD LOWMAN.” Omar had drawn his weapon and stepped closer, in unison with the stomps of the Halharken closing their half circle upon them.

“Omar, what is this foolishness?”¬† Robert spoke as he pulled his sword.¬† He did not want to hurt his friends, but blood is blood.¬† He helped raise the man standing next to him.¬† Now they were back to back as the crowd closed in.

Omar stared, the smell of each others’ sweat could be tasted on the air.¬† “Robert… I… This scroll came just now by royal courier.¬† The Kingsguard sent their best hawk to bring this.”¬† Omar tossed a parchment that had been crumpled up in a ball to Robert’s hand.¬† Robert read it and paled visibly even in the shadows of the trees.¬† The shadows tingled with delight.

“Tristan… How can this be?¬† The King says you are a traitor.¬† You are collaborating with the Elves in a secret plot?”¬† Robert turned to face Tristan, who stared at him in confusion.

“NO!¬† I had just come here on the orders of the Court!¬† This must be a mistake!”¬† Everyone’s knuckles tightened on their weapons.

“There is no mistake, child.” Omar grimaced and took his stance.¬† Robert stared in horror as Tristan began muttering ancient words and his sword glowed with a foreign light.

The light certain Elves could imbue in their blades.

Omar and the Halharken dashed forward together, Robert raised his blade to protect his son against their curved sabers.  Tristan exhaled and the world exploded in ancient light.

Then darkness.¬† Slight steam rising from the ground around them.¬† Robert and Tristan stood in a small sea of corpses.¬† Omar’s face continued to grimace up at them from their feet.

Robert fell to the ground and screamed in a mix of rage and sadness.

Tristan still held his blade up.¬† “Did you hear that, Father?”

Robert just stared at his dead friend in silence.  His heart now a chunk of dead matter.

“We are still not alone… There was a strange scream just now, not the men here.¬† What wa–” A large burst of blood sprayed from his mouth onto the back of Robert’s head.

So warm

Tristan fell beside him, his body twitching furiously.  Blood spurted from his ears and nose with each heartbeat.  Steam rose from his body writhing in the dirt, and the steam quickly turned into a thick forceful blast as if a great furnace had opened before him.

tales of a travelling salesman final

Click here to read the next part!

Forbidden Tomes

Click here for the part before.

The parchment sealed, Elmyra hobbled outside on tired legs.  Wind breezed cold on her face, forcing her to squint as she walked to the small pigeon coop off to the side of her hut.  Sunshine felt far away.  A fluttering of wings and a bit of twine send the parchment into the sky, and old eyes stare after it.  Ancient eyes.

One pair of eyes belonged to the Elmyra.  The others? Well.


The bird wasn’t the fastest bird, or the most graceful. ¬†But it was the only bird Elmyra Cairon had. ¬†The others had fallen to the last winter, and she didn’t care to buy more.

She didn’t believe that she would be around much longer.

The bird fluttered along above the treeline, clumsily gaining altitude. ¬†Its yellow-red eyes stared out, blinking quickly. ¬†Were it a human, it would wonder if it was able to make it. ¬†But instinct drove the bird higher. ¬†Farther. ¬†The pigeon may not have been graceful, or fast — but it was old and reliable.

The parchment staggers its stride, but pigeon pride ensures that it reaches its destination just in time.

Finally able to descend, our pigeon makes an exhausted dive down toward the treeline, leaving what was left of the sun disappearing behind the Zephyr Mountains and entering the cool of the shade. ¬†It seemed to breathe a heavy sigh, swooping to land on the arm of a tall and lanky elf. ¬†The man gave a chuckle as he untied the paper from the bird’s quivering leg.

“Ch’arleh, a message came for us. ¬†Judging from the bird, its probably your mother.”

A snort-laugh came from a cave entrance behind the tall elf. ¬†The sound of a sword sliding into a sheath was followed by a whet-stone thudding on a wood table. ¬†Ch’arleh came out, auburn hair pulled into a high ponytail.

“That’s definitely my mother’s bird.” ¬†He picked it up gently and stroked its head. ¬†The bird cooed pleasantly. ¬†“She’s had this thing for as long as I can remember. ¬†Its time is almost up though.”

He set the bird onto a branch, and it sat and stared at him as he took the parchment back into the damp cave. ¬†Ducking to get into the opening, he stood and walked long strides into the mountain. ¬†Candles perched wherever they could, casting dancing shadows over shelves of scroll and tome. ¬†The oaken chair that used to be his father’s waited patiently for him, and he sat with a grunt. ¬†Cracked wax and rustled paper revealed the words with familiar handwriting:

Halharken East of the Zephyrs and travelling Westward.

Among them is one of your cousins from your father’s side and a¬†human noble.

He has some understanding of the arcane. 

Something is not right, son.  Please be careful.  With love,

¬† ¬† ¬† ¬† ¬† ¬† ¬† ¬† ¬† ¬† ¬† ¬† ¬† ¬† ¬† ¬† ¬† ¬† ¬† ¬† ¬† ¬† ¬† ¬†Your √Ėntarii

Ch’arleh stared at the parchment for a long time, feeling its rough texture between his fingers.

How much magic did she use to get this information?  

He shook the concern over his mother aside and set his mind to work.  He had little cause to worry for her, considering his plan.  The Halharken have exposed themselves on this side of the Zephyrs during the peace.

“Hmph. ¬†Peace indeed.” He whispered to himself. ¬†Action needed to be taken. ¬†If the Halharken were here, it meant that the Crown was willing to risk exposing itself. ¬†What made this risk worthwhile?

“J’imh! ¬†Send word to the outposts to recall their troops back here.” ¬†Ch’ar shouted into the mouthpiece of a wooden tube that ran from beside his chair, along the ceiling and to the mouth of the cave. ¬†He removed his hair, and let it hang down to his shoulders. ¬†The flickering darkness intensified as the smallest breeze toys with the candles. ¬†A poison breeze that comes from within the cave. ¬†From the shadows themselves. ¬†Ch’arleh smiles to his invisible allies, whispering words that allows their dark energy to flow through him. ¬† Words neither human, elven, or even ancient orc.

He felt electric as his hairs seemed to throb with hungry power, standing on end.   A power no one knew of but him.  Not even his dear, sweet mother.

A fluttering of wings outside disappeared into the darkening woods, calling his Ravens. ¬†Ch’arleh opened a scroll he had read dozens of times before — a scroll that had the language he spoke inscribed in harsh, foul-looking scribbles. ¬†Scribbles that seemed to shift and change to an untrained eye.

The symbols surrounded an image of a particularly evil-looking mask.  He mouthed the words that titled the forbidden paper to himself with a smile:

“Khosst Am’ojaan”


Robert and Omar smiled at each other and took a swig of their water at the same time.  The plan they devised was perfect.  They finished with just enough time for the sun to retire and for a crescent moon to rise.  With the Halharken keeping guard around the makeshift campground, they both felt comfortable enough to get their rest.  They needed it in the day to come.  Omar fell asleep instantly, soft snores oozing from a wiry beard.

Hours passed, and the sliver of moon crept slowly above.  Robert tossed and turned on the hard ground.  He stood with a frustrated sigh.  Maybe a walk would calm his nerves.

The Halharken were notoriously silent and so Robert did his best to match as he walked.  The night itself seemed to absorb sound, as even the insects held their breath.  He felt lonely even though he knew he was under guard.  Finally, he saw a hooded figure standing next to a thick tree trunk.  Thinking some small talk might just bore him enough to sleep, Robert strode to the silhouette of his guardian.

“A quieter night I have never seen. ¬†And yet I cannot sleep,” Robert softly spoke as he walked up. ¬†“How goes your watch, tracker?”

Silence replied from the leaning figure.  a beat passed and Robert froze where he stood.

“…Tracker?”

More silence.

He kept his distance as he circled around wide, hand on the pommel of his weapon.  A cloud passed over the waning crescent moon, stealing what little light there was.  The hood still obscured the face of the figure as he came to stand in front.  Roberts nerves were frayed and he shouted over his own thundering heart:

“Speak or I¬†will cut you down!”

The figure jerked suddenly, no longer leaning against the thick oak.

“Oh, Gods! ¬†Sir! ¬†I apologize, I must have fallen asleep.” ¬†The man sheepishly admitted. ¬†Robert breathed a sigh of frustrated relief and chuckled as he looked down.

“You scared the iron from my blood!” ¬†Looking back up Robert saw the man’s face. ¬†Young. ¬†Eyes bulging in terror. ¬†Robert’s mouth hung open – unable to speak – as he saw a thin line appear across the youth’s throat. ¬†A thin line grew thicker and began to spray blood as his head rolled from his shoulders. ¬†The head plopped to the ground and rolled enough for the bulging eyes to reflect the light of the moon peeking back out from the clouds. ¬†The body remained standing perfectly upright.

Robert steeled his stomach against the urge to projectile vomit and drew his blade with a practiced hand.  Glances around him revealed no one.  Nothing.  The headless body still stood with an eerie stiffness.

Then it shuddered!

Click here for the next part!

tales of a travelling salesman final

[WP] There is a portal to an endless ocean, filled with monstrous beings. After repelling the initial ‘leaks’, humans explore this endless, sunless, sea.

The Russian’s Sierra-Class submarine Pskov was the only craft of the joint operation to survive the initial onslaught from the other world. The rotting corpse of an impossibly large sea beast floated onto the shore of Chile, drawing large crowds of horrified onlookers. World leaders were scrambling to organize a barrier of some sort, a sort of control zone to prevent further creatures from coming through. Captain Rohkscov had no patience for the bureaucracy, however. He had just taken the liberty of attaching cameras all over his vessel, to allow for better perception in an entire world of water draped in darkness.

“Ensign. Any contacts on sonar?” The question came from a steel-gray beard.

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