Some story, it doesn't have a title yet ( 1

[Guest Katiya Damodred]

She was that type of woman who just looked burnt out. She was a husk, nothing more than that; a used, faded husk. Her hair hung about her face in thin strings dyed that particularly yellow shade of blond that didn’t exist in nature, though even that was faded and fake looking. Her skin bore the scars of conformity, a deep shade of tan marred by wrinkles and skin spots that may or may not have been cancerous. It was stretched taut over her brittle frame, her thin arms and stick-like legs and long, skinny neck. Her lips were cracked and dry around the cigarette clamped firmly in her yellowed teeth, and her straight nose was the most prominent thing on her face. Her eyes were a dull brown; they had no sparkle, no life, because they had seen too much. The dark circles and bags that accented the pits they were sunk in testified to that.

 

There was a specific smell that wafted from her, though if asked to put a name to it, no one could quite do it. The scent of her cheap herbal shampoo drifted in and out, and underneath that was the permanent stench of cigarette smoke that clung like a parasite. There was another smell too, and the best way to describe it was the smell of hard life. It wasn’t odious, nor was it pleasant. It simply…was.

 

A bony claw of a hand decorated with two dollar gold rings set with colored glass reached up and removed the Marlboro Light. A cloud of slate gray smoke rushed from her mouth as she spoke in her dry, rasping hiss of a voice. It was clear she had smoked for years.

 

“So where’s the money?” Abruptly she doubled over in fit of coughing, hacking up bits of her lung and the disgusting things she had chosen to put inside them.

 

Her companion pulled daintily away, gathering his coat to himself as if to ward off the vibes of misuse and ill health. He waited while she coughed, then waited while she gathered herself when she was finished. Finally he answered, a faint trace of some accent evident in his slightly high-pitched, yet somehow soothing voice.

 

“I have it here.”

 

Her dull eyes fixed greedily on a fat roll of bills he pulled from beneath his coat. A spark of something lighted in them as he counted the money slowly for her benefit.

 

“$5,000, just as you requested.” As her hand snaked out to grab it, he pulled it back.

 

“Now…where is the box?” The woman glared at him, then reached into a moldy cloth bag at her side. She pulled out a plain box, roughly six inches all around and wrapped in night blue leather. It was also silver chased, but hardly worth the sale price.

 

The woman had been surprised to find this handsome young stranger on her porch one day last week. He was looking for something, he said, and he had traced that thing to her. It was a small thing, hardly worth her time, and if she wished he would buy it from her…name the price. When she asked what it was he was looking for, he had smiled and said,

 

“A trivial thing, a box, covered in silver chased blue leather. It is very important to me…it has been in my family for years. Unfortunately, a relative of mine sold it when he came upon hard times. I have desperately wanted to find it, and now that I have, you can hardly believe my excitement. Name any price, and I will pay.”

 

They had settled on her very first asking price of $5,000. They would make the transaction here, in her home, this night.

 

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Edited April 29, 2004 by Alaeha

[Guest Katiya Damodred]

“Here,” she spat, thrusting the box into his middle. “Hell, I don’t know what you want that damn thing for anyway…its no use to me, or anyone as far as I can see.” She coughed again as he smiled slightly.

 

“It is dear to me, madam. Thank you very much for giving it back to me.”

 

“I didn’t give you nothin’! I want my money!” She took a long draw of the cigarette and ground the butt into the couch that looked as though it had been used as an ashtray for many years.

 

His smile widened into an almost condescending smirk. “Of course, dear lady.” He tossed the roll of bills into her lap as he rose from his seat. She snatched it in her claw-like hands and thrust it into the bag, watching him as a mongrel dog might watch a stranger when guarding a precious bone. With a gracious nod of his head, he turned sharply on his booted heel and strode out of the house.

 

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Edited April 29, 2004 by Alaeha

[Guest Katiya Damodred]

“She did what?!”

 

Bryan nodded and exhaled, the smoke billowing up around his head. “Yeah, she sold it to some random guy that showed up at the house last week”

 

His friend Kirk shook his shaggy head in disbelief. “Man, that sucks ass. For how much?”

 

“Would you believe five thousand bucks?”

 

“Five thousand?” Kirk let out his wheezing laugh. “Damn, whoever bought that thing must be a real sucker. That little bit of silver ain’t worth it!”

 

“I know.” Bryan drew on his cigarette and blew the smoke out through his nose. “Some crazy foreign guy it was too. He had a weird accent.”

 

“You met him?”

 

“Not really. I was in the other room last night when he came over. He seemed real disgusted by Mom. He’s one of them pretty boys, you know? All fancy and rich and stuff? But he must have wanted that box real bad, because he gave her all the money and just left.”

 

Kirk flicked ash off the end of his cigarette as he shook his head. He obviously didn’t know what to make of the whole situation.

 

Suddenly, the clicking sound of a dress shoe echoed off the bathroom walls. The two boys hastily flicked their cigarettes into a toilet and flushed, then pulled out a bottle of cologne and sprayed it over themselves quickly. They bustled out of the bathroom just as Mr. Scalds walked in.

 

“You been smoking boys?” he asked. The easy smile on his face and the mischievous light in his dark eyes said he knew the answer. Bryan flashed his innocent grin, the grin that so many girls loved despite everything else about him.

 

“No sir,” he answered.

 

“Good thing, or I might have to write you two up…again.”

 

“Ah, you know us better than that, Scalds!” Kirk said with a grin, clapping the middle-aged Social Studies teacher on the shoulder.

 

“Yeah right. Come on boys, get to class.”

 

The two obediently sauntered down the hall toward their next class, showing they were in no hurry but not trying a teacher’s patience too far. They wandered into the chemistry lab and sank into their seats just as the bell rang.

 

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Edited April 29, 2004 by Alaeha

[Guest Katiya Damodred]

The low of hum of talk died a little as Mr. Cawlsen got up in front of the class. His low voice and quiet disposition made him an unlikely teacher for Juinors, though he was surprisingly well received by most students. Kirk and Bryan were not two such students however, and they blatantly ignored him whenever possible.

 

“Ok everyone, particularly that back corner there, you’ll be pleased to know that I have grades to put in and paperwork to catch up on, so today will be a free day.”

 

There was a roar of cheering. Mr. Cawlsen nodded with an accepting smile, the tired smile of a teacher who knew. “Ok ok, now settle down. I’ll put a movie on, but let’s try not to demolish the lab or blow up the school, shall we?”

 

“Oh darn!” came a sarcastic reply from somewhere near the middle of the room, followed by tittering giggles and more comments of the same nature. Bryan scowled in the direction of those giggles. Those girls annoyed him. They were the smart ones, the ones that always made As or at least high Bs. They weren’t preppy in the strictest sense of the definition, because the real preps found them beneath their notice, but there was a definite sense of superiority that they carried about them. They probably should have been frowned-upon teacher’s pets, but somehow they managed to pull off that particular title with class. Bryan hated everything about them.

 

He was jerked out of his thoughts by Kirk’s hesitant touch on his arm.

 

“Don’t worry about it man…you wanna get outta here? Skip?”

 

Bryan shrugged and directed a glare at the group of four or five girls. “Sure. Anything to get away from that noise.” Kirk smiled sympathetically and grabbed his hall pass booklet. He moseyed up to Mr. Cawlsen’s desk and did his best concerned act. Bryan watched Mr. Cawlsen nod and sign the booklet. With a smile of triumph, Kirk turned and beckoned his friend to the door. The two boys left the classroom with a pair of blue eyes on their backs.

 

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Edited April 29, 2004 by Alaeha

[Guest Katiya Damodred]

Ok, feel free to comment on what I've written so far...I don't know where its going, its sort of unfolding as I write and going where it wants to.

 

Image by FlamingText.com

Edited April 29, 2004 by Alaeha

[Gyrfalcon]

Hmmm.... interesting so far. You have to wonder about the mysterious man and why he wanted that old box so much that he'd pay $5000 for it...

 

I'm not sure why this Bryan and Kirk are important yet, but I'll wait to find out.

 

Interesting so far- keep it up. *smiles*

Edited April 29, 2004 by Alaeha

[Guest Katiya Damodred]

“Hey! Hey Kat! You who!!” Kat jumped as a hand waved frantically in front of her face.

 

“Alright alright already! What is it?”

 

Amy grinned and lowered her hand. “If you’re done pretending Mel Gibson just walked out the door without saying hi to you, I was asking you about this picture…”

 

“Mel Gibson did NOT just walk out the door without saying hi to me! I was just wondering why Mr. Cawlsen lets them go wherever Kirk said they were going when he knows for a fact that they aren’t! I mean, its not like they’re gonna come back or anything.”

 

“Oh wait, is this a problem?” Liz asked.

 

Kat smiled. “Well, I guess not.”

 

“Ahem.” Amy let out a loud fake cough and snatched a piece of her purple hair, twirling it furiously in her fingers and grinning like a maniac. Liz and Tori burst into laughter as Kat dropped the strand of her own hair she’d been twirling as if it were a live snake.

 

“Well, we all know what THAT means, don’t we?” Tori asked as she gulped for air.

 

“Stupid magazine and its stupid sexual tension,” Kat mumbled. Abruptly she joined in the laughter, giggling at the absurdity of the thought.

 

“Anyway…” Amy said suddenly, silencing the laughter. “I’ve been workin’ on this picture lately…whatcha think?”

 

She held up her sketchbook. The picture in question was done in black and white, the way Amy preferred to sketch. It was a pair of hands extended, palms out, holding a box. The background was black, the hands shaded and normal looking, and the box was pure white.

 

“It looks great!” Kat gushed.

 

“Yeah, as usual,” Liz said with a smile.

 

Tori appraised the sketch with a more practiced eye. Kat had absolutely no talent for art and her best friend Amy was great at it, so whatever she did was automatically awesome in Kat’s eyes. Tori however, had a decent talent and was slightly more critical.

 

“It looks really good,” she answered finally.

 

“Thanks,” Amy said, blushing slightly. “I don’t really know where I’m going with it or what it is…I just got the idea all of a sudden.”

 

“That’s cool…hey, did you guys hear about Amanda and Chris?” Kat had a way of figuring out the latest gossip and bringing it to her little group when they chose to keep away from the main school population.

 

“No, what?” Out of all the people in Kat’s group, Liz always seemed to be the one most interested in the latest gossip.

 

“They broke up last night and you know what else?”

 

“What?”

 

“It was their one year anniversary.”

 

“No WAY!” Liz exclaimed. Tori and Amy wore identical expressions of shock.

 

“Ok, there’s no way Amanda’s my favorite person, but that’s just cruel,” Amy said softly.

 

Kat nodded, “Yeah, and Kayla told me that he said…”

 

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Edited April 29, 2004 by Alaeha

[Guest Katiya Damodred]

“So what are you gonna do about that guy who took the box?” Kirk asked as he and Bryan made their third turn around the halls.

 

Bryan shrugged uncomfortably. “I dunno…I gotta get it back, though. I’ll ask Mom about him if I can, but I’ve just gotta get that box back.”

 

“What’s so important about it anyway? I mean, I seen it and it didn’t look too important. Hell, your mom had that thing packed away in a box for years! It can’t be all that important…how come you think it is?”

 

“I…I don’t know exactly, alright? But I know it is and I know I have to get it back.”

 

“Hey man, whatever. I need a smoke.”

 

“Alright, you go smoke. I’m going back to class…I’m tired of walking around.”

 

“Um, ok…”

 

“Trust me, man.”

 

Bryan walked away from his best friend, the friend he had known since before he could walk. Together they had fought their way through elementary and middle schools, struggling against conformity and looking for their own path. Together they had delved into the darker side of the school society, abandoning sports, hair gel, and preppy clothes in favor of earrings, all black, and the occasional joint or ecstasy pill. Bryan wasn’t always happy about where life had taken him, but his consolation, shallow as it was, was that Kirk was by his side through it all.

 

As he neared the classroom, the familiar chatter of feminine voices set his blood raging. He didn’t know why those girls annoyed him like they did, but anytime he was around them, he was suddenly very irritable. He turned the corner and felt his heart sink as he saw them all sitting on the stairs, the very stairs he would have to go down to get to class. He considered turning around right then and there, then immediately rejected the thought. Setting his face in a forbidding scowl, he strode toward them.

 

“Hey Bryan,” said one of them in a voice he perceived as being falsely pleasant. He glared at the one who had spoken, a slight girl with dark chestnut locks and bright blue eyes. He knew her; there wasn’t a soul in all of Christian County that didn’t know Kat Gallagher.

 

“What?” he asked gruffly.

 

A surprised looked flashed across her face. She was cute, but not stunningly, and she didn’t even approach hot. She was too loud and happy for his taste. She was the kind of girl he pictured belonging to every school activity that existed: yearbook staff, pep club, theatre club, National Honors Society, sports manager of every sport, etc.

 

“I just said hi. Can’t a girl say hi occasionally?” She looked up at him through her thick, dark eyelashes, a smile playing her glossy lips.

 

“No,” he decided. He wondered angrily why he was still standing there.

 

“Oh, too bad…why don’t you go on to class then? I mean, why stand here talking to us?”

 

“I dunno,” he growled, beginning to pick his way through her friends that were sprawled on the steps at various angles.

 

“Where’s your friend?” asked another girl. He knew her too, vaguely; Amy Sanders. Bah. She was a show-off and a flashy attention getter. She dressed in crazy hippie clothes and had a different color to her hair every week. She was famous for her oddities, everything from paperclips that served as earrings to slicing and dicing her tennis shoes and then covering them in duct tape. He glared at her.

 

“Smokin’…you interested in joining?”

 

“No thank you, I value my lungs.” The other two tittered, though Kat did not. Bryan could feel her eyes on him, studying him with an almost frightening intensity. He shifted uncomfortably. Why on earth didn’t he just move?

 

“So what are you doing out here anyway?” he heard himself ask. What? That wasn’t what he wanted at all! Damn girl and her watching him, now he was all flustered.

 

“The same thing as you, skipping class,” Kat answered without ever taking her eyes from him.

 

“Really? The goody-goodies aren’t so goody-goody after all?” To his surprise, the four girls burst into laughter.

 

“That’s rich,” Amy said, nudging a girl with long honey colored pulled back in a braid. He thought her name was Liz. “Us, goody-goodies…”

 

“Well, maybe Liz,” Kat said with an easy smile. The girl Amy had nudged smiled and shook her head slightly as the other three girls laughed. Bryan couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief as Kat’s penetrating blue-eyed gaze finally left his shoulder blades.

 

“But seriously, we’re not what you think we are,” Amy said matter-of-factly. “See, it’s people like you that are so obsessed with avoiding stereotypes that actually do the most stereotyping.”

 

“Oh, she’s got you there!” chimed in the fourth girl. She was tall and stick-like, with nothing to her body, but Bryan guessed she was attractive enough. Her hair was bright blond, her eyes a vibrant green, and her name was Tori. He was still repulsed by her attitude.

 

“Oh yeah, she’s got me,” he sneered. “Let me tell you about stereotyping, you purple haired freak. I LIVE under a stereotype, ok? Trailer trash, that’s all I am to this school. I hate this fuckin’ place and I can’t wait to leave! I have one more year of this hell to go through, and then I am GONE! Gone, away from people like you who decided a long time ago that I wasn't good enough for you!"

 

He glared at every one of them, steel in his eyes and steel in his heart. He was suddenly very tired. Tired of this school, tired of his friends, his home…his life. He was tired of his choices and tired of having to live with them everyday, tired of paying for the rest of his life with choices made in weakness. He didn’t know what it was, but for some reason the stress of it all had built up and just exploded onto those girls. And he didn’t care.

 

“Get outta my way,” he growled. The three girls slid out of his way as he slunk down the steps, and he could feel Kat’s eyes on him all the while.

 

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Edited April 29, 2004 by Alaeha

[Guest Katiya Damodred]

The final bell of the day rang. Students poured out of various classrooms along the hallways, the buzz of chatter immediately filling the air. Locker slams lost their echoing ring; they became muffled in the press of bodies and talk. Freshman and sophomores at first trickled, then flooded toward the line of bright yellow school buses, the injured pride on those faces almost comical as they watched their older friends go to their cars. The Juinors and Seniors all but flew to their cars, eager to beat the buses and get home or off to work or to whatever else they had planned for the remainder of the day.

 

In five short minutes, the halls of the school were nearly empty.

 

The man in the office smiled. He had watched the students flowing out the front doors and up the various hallways that led to other exits, but none had seemed to be the ones he wanted. The school was not big…it had perhaps a six or seven hundred students at most. Why could he not find the ones he wanted?

 

The secretary behind the desk eyed him again for perhaps the twentieth time.

 

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can help you with sir?” she asked again. He turned his smile to her and was rewarded to see her shrink back a bit.

 

“No madam, I was simply looking for…my nephew and his friends. It seems I have missed them.”

 

“Would you like me t-”

 

“No thank you, dear lady, I’ll be on my way now. Thank you.” He turned and swept out the doors, only allowing his face to dissolve into a scowl when no one could see him. Curse that blasted boy! He had been protected for so long, and now that the protection had slipped, he was running!

 

But what did it matter? He had the box now…it would all come together in time. He strolled to his brand new Mustang GT, a shining black jaguar of a car with its chrome plated rims and top quality tan leather interior. He easily hopped over the top of the door, seeing as how the top was down and folded back like a bat’s wings. The engine roared to life as he turned the key in the ignition, and as he pulled away, he left the distinct impression that flame had shot out of somewhere, though obviously it had not.

 

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Edited April 29, 2004 by Alaeha

[Guest Katiya Damodred]

Kat looked up absently as a roar of some big sports car drifted over the parking lot. She rolled her eyes as a Mustang pulled out and turned into what could have been called traffic. Some rich guy trying to impress…well, everyone.

 

“Come on Kat, can we just go home already?”

 

Smiling slightly at her friend’s impatience, Kat slid into the driver’s seat. She eyed Amy in the front seat, then turned and called back over her shoulder,

 

“Come on, fork it over.”

 

There were groans from her three friends as they dug into purses and pockets and eventually pulled up three dollars each. Kat snatched the bills and stuffed them in her pocket with a happy grin.

 

“Hey, I’ve gotta have gas money!” she said cheerily as she turned the key in her borrowed Bravada. She turned on the radio and pulled slowly out of the parking lot.

 

Even while her friends sang relatively well to the overplayed pop, Kat’s head was spinning. She worried too much, Amy always told her. Why couldn’t she just sit back and not care, just stop worrying about EVERYTHING for a change? Kat didn’t see herself as worrying needlessly about everything, just about things she found important.

 

Like the encounter with Bryan that afternoon. Perhaps Amy had been too harsh, but Kat had a feeling there was more there than he was letting on. It was a constant failing of hers that she always wanted to help people in inner turmoil, regardless of how she felt about them personally. She never really stopped to consider that someone who hated her might not see it as help. Perhaps he thought SHE hated HIM. Maybe that could explain his comment about people thinking he wasn’t good enough for them.

 

Kat let out a heavy sigh that was drowned out by raucous parodies of N*SYNC’s Girlfriend. She knew how he felt about stereotyping…she herself was a victim of many stereotypes. Many people thought her perfect, the golden student, always involved in this club or that activity, constantly making effortless high grades. In the way of stereotypes, they couldn’t be more wrong. Kat didn’t participate in a single extra activity, didn’t belong to a single club. She never did her homework and usually scrambled in the morning before class to get it done. Either that or she charmed her teachers into ignoring the slight slip. There were times that her reputation as a golden student came in handy.

 

She was a manipulator. She knew very well that many of the people that assigned and believed in her image, her stereotype, would be shocked to the core if they ever discovered her true nature, who she really was. But she used her reputation and her true nature like she would any other tools; though she never told anyone, Kat’s greatest fear was that underneath the tools, she didn’t know who she was.

 

“Ok, that’s enough of this,” Amy said decisively, pulling Kat out of her reverie. She reached over to change the channel just as they pulled into Tori’s driveway.

 

“We’re here, Amy,” Kat said.

 

“Oh.”

 

The four girls piled out of the car, pulling their various duffle bags and backpacks behind them. Tori’s parents were gone on a business trip and had agreed to a weekend sleepover for the four best friends. Seeing as how each girl was seventeen, they trusted them not to demolish the house.

 

“Best be careful, Amy,” Liz called over her shoulder as they all trundled into the house. “I think that Bryan guy lives down the road.”

 

Amy laughed and rolled her eyes. “Please, its not like he’s gonna come up, here, right?”

 

Kat smiled slightly. Maybe she did worry too much.

 

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Edited April 29, 2004 by Alaeha

[Guest Katiya Damodred]

Bryan lay in the darkness with his arm over his eyes. He tried to ignore the burning need to light up a cigarette without much success. It was a little like trying to ignore a monster gnawing at his insides. He rolled over in pain, wishing he had enough money to go by a pack. He was totally out.

 

“I quit,” he mumbled into his pillow.

 

“Bryan!!” came his mother’s shrill voice from the living room. With a groan he sat up.

 

“What?” he yelled.

 

“Kirk’s here!”

 

Bryan pulled himself up and dragged his body through the kitchen and into the living room. Kirk was sprawled in a rickety wooden chair, fiddling with the chain that connected his wallet to his belt loop.

 

“Ready?” Bryan asked. Kirk nodded and unfolded his lanky form from the chair. He nodded to Bryan’s mother, then raked a hand through his shaggy brown locks as he went out the door, followed closely by Bryan.

 

“Be back soon, Mom!” he yelled.

 

“You ain’t my son, boy,” she said cheerfully.

 

Once outside, Kirk turned a critical eye on his friend.

 

“You don’t look so hot, man,” he said matter-of-factly. Bryan bared his teeth in what he hoped passed as a smile.

 

“You got a real talent for stating the obvious, you know that?”

 

“Sure do.”

 

“Good.” Bryan staggered to his friend’s car and leaned against the hood, staring at the sky. How long since he had had his last cigarette? The stars were bright, unusually bright in the light of the silvery moon. Silver, like the chasings on that box. The box that he had to get back. The box that was probably in Europe or somewhere by now. He punched his thigh in anger, then winced as his ring crushed the tender skin between his fingers.

 

He opened his fist and stared at his ring. He had worn it for as long as he could remember, first on a chain around his neck when he was little, then actually on his finger. It too was silver, and set with some polished blue stone. He valued it more than anything he owned, though he really couldn’t say why.

 

“So I hear you went off on those girls today,” Kirk said suddenly, carefully not looking at Bryan.

 

“Yeah, I did.”

 

“How come?”

 

“They were gettin’ on my nerves.”

 

“Oh-wanna talk about it?”

 

“Not really.”

 

“Kay.” Kirk shrugged into his jacket. The May nights lately had been cool. “Wanna get outta here?”

 

“In a minute.”

 

Bryan was staring up the road. It was mostly deserted after eight, especially this far back in the poorer section, but he could see headlights approaching. Kirk noticed it to.

 

“What the hell?” he asked.

 

Bryan remained silent. The headlights slowed as they approached his driveway. Under the flickering stale orange light of a street lamp, he saw that it was a black Mustang GT. What on earth was a fancy car like that doing in this section of the neighborhood?

 

The car turned like a metal shadow into his driveway, ghosting across the gravel. It pulled to a slow stop just behind Kirk’s beat up Chevy. The two boys watched as a man dressed all in black got out of the car and approached.

 

“Good evening lads,” he said.

 

Bryan sucked air through his teeth. That voice…he knew that voice. The man with the box! This was the mysterious buyer! He kicked Kirk’s ankle gently to let him know something was up.

 

“Evenin’,” Bryan said carefully as Kirk bit his lip to keep from crying out. “Can I help you?”

 

The man smiled. “That all depends. You are Bryan Richardson, yes?” Bryan nodded cautiously. “And this is Kirk Altinbreyer?”

 

“Yeah…”

 

“Oh good. Listen boys, I have a proposition for you.”

 

“What is it?”

 

The man’s smile pulled into a smirk. Bryan studied that well-chiseled jaw line and hooked nose, the dark black eyes and the dark bronzy skin. Women would find him attractive, though he didn’t really impress the seventeen year-old boys. Everything about the man shouted money, from his roomy black shirt and pants, both of the finest Italian silk, to his wavy, perfectly groomed, shoulder-length black hair.

 

“I knew you’d listen. Look at me boys; would you say I am a rich man?”

 

“Sure,” Kirk offered.

 

“Such smart lads. You’re right, I am rich…but I wasn’t always. My life changed one day when a man came to me and made the same offer I am about to make to you.” He turned and stared them down, the moonlight making his eyes burn like black fire. “You aren’t happy with your life, are you?”

 

Bryan froze. The man’s eyes seem to stare straight through to his soul.

 

“You don’t like the path your choices have made, do you? Sometimes you wish you could just change it all, and it seems unfair that you can’t. It is rather unfair, isn’t it?”

 

“Yes,” Bryan heard himself whisper.

 

“What would you say if I could change that?” the man whispered back with a soft intensity. “What would you say if I could offer you something that would erase all this? You’re bad choices never existed, just like you didn’t make them. What would you say?”

 

“I’d say what’s the catch?” Kirk snapped, kicking Bryan’s ankle. Bryan latched onto the pain, using it to pull himself out of the strange spell the man had woven around him.

 

The man blinked as if he had forgotten Kirk was there. “The catch? Oh yes, the catch…well, the catch is, you accept it forever. You agree to forget about these bad choices and live your new life completely, cut off from all ties to your previous life.”

 

“Well, that doesn’t sound too bad…” Kirk faltered.

 

“Would you like a demonstration of what I’m talking about?” the man asked, turning his full attention to Bryan again. Without waiting for an answer, he reached out and placed a black-gloved hand on the boy’s head.

 

Even years later, Bryan could never accurately explain what happened. There was a flash with no light accompanied by thunder with no sound, and then, quite suddenly, his craving for a cigarette was gone. More, the thought of cigarette made him sick…the thought of smoking made him sick.

 

“What the…?” Kirk asked. His voice seemed to drown out as the man peered deeply into Bryan’s eyes.

 

“That is a small sample, Bryan, of what you could erase. That is a small sample of the power I am offering you. You are the Chosen One, Bryan…you could be the most powerful Afrandi in centuries. There’s no telling what you will do. You could redefine every boundary to your whim, you could cut every bond that ever held us. You could shatter ancient pacts and remake them to the new generation, the generation of Afrandi that YOU could command. You are spoken of in prophecy, Bryan…the Chosen One.”

 

Abruptly, Bryan came to himself. He jerked his head out of the man’s grasp, shaking it a little to clear it.

 

“Look man, I don’t know WHAT your smokin’-” he said shakily, edging toward the man’s car. “But I want you to stay away from me, got it? Stay away from me and my mom and my friends. Understand? If I EVER see you again, I swear I’ll call the cops.”

 

“Bryan…” the man sighed, a note of genuine regret in his voice. “You must understand that you ARE the Chosen One. You can’t run from it anymore than you can run from yourself. It is part of you. Don’t punish me because I opened your eyes. Please Bryan, consider my offer.”

 

“There is no offer!” Bryan shrieked. His eyes darted to the inside of the Mustang. Suddenly he turned and bolted around the car. He leaned over the door and snatched the box off the passenger’s seat, tucking it in his coat and dashing into the Chevy.

 

“Go Kirk!” he yelled. The tires squealed as Kirk, who had gone to the truck upon seeing he was forgotten, pulled the truck in a wide circle across his friend’s front lawn. Bryan glimpsed the man’s face out the dirty, streaked window. It was contorted in a fearful expression of rage.

 

“NO!!! THE BOX OF XANDYLAR!!!” The meaningless gibberish was punctuated by several colorful curses Bryan understood all too well. And then, for the second time that night, an inexplicable event rocked Bryan’s life, changing it forever, though he could never have foreseen it.

 

The strange man raised both hands after the truck. Hot lances of red lightning shot from his palms and grazed the sides of the bed, shooting ahead of the circle of yellow from the headlights and vanishing up the road.

 

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?” Kirk yelled.

 

“I dunno man, just DRIVE!”

 

“Where to?”

 

“ANYWHERE THAT’S NOT HERE!” Bryan roared. Kirk pressed the pedal to the floor, leaving the strange man behind.

 

Image by FlamingText.com

Edited April 29, 2004 by Alaeha

[Guest Katiya Damodred]

Kat rubbed her eyes and peered blearily at the clock. Two o’clock. Why was she awake again? Oh yes; there had been a noise. On rubbery legs she tottered to the bathroom and splashed water on her face. Maybe it had been a dream.

 

Then it came again: a steady pounding upstairs, near the front of the house. Was someone knocking on the door? She blinked at her reflection. The knocks came again, if possible more urgent this time. Sighing, she dragged a brush through her unruly hair and padded quietly upstairs to the door.

 

Sure enough, she glimpsed two forms outside the small circle of frosted glass. She groped for some sort of weapon and finally found a wooden cane in a stand near the door. Grasping the cane firmly in her left hand, she extended her right hand and threw open the door, raising the cane smoothly, just in case.

 

Bryan and Kirk stumbled into the front hall, gasping a little.

 

Kat stared. Bryan shook his head and peered at her with his clear green eyes, flecked slightly with brown.

 

“What’s that thing for?” he asked in a surly tone.

 

Kat blinked, suddenly remembering she still had the cane raised above her head. Scowling slightly, she slammed it violently into the stand.

 

“Well, its not like we were expecting visitors at two in the morning…how was I supposed to know who it was?”

 

Bryan shrugged and rolled his eyes. When he offered no other explanation, Kat’s temper got the better of her.

 

“What the hell are you doing here, anyway? This isn’t even my house, I’m trying to have a sleepover with my friends and suddenly you two fags show up, at two in the fuckin’ morning, and expect me to be calm about it?! What’s more, you don’t even bother with a fuckin’ EXPLANATION! Now what the HELL are you DOING HERE?”

 

he two boys regarded her with shocked expressions. Kat felt the heat of her rage creep up her neck and threaten to redden her face. With an effort, she calmed herself and smoothed her face.

 

“Wow…I’ve never heard you cuss before,” Kirk whispered. She rolled her eyes dramatically.

 

“Oh please. I’m sorry, but I’m not all that happy, and I would really like to know what you’re doing here.” She paused and added,

 

“In case you didn’t pick up on it before.”

 

Bryan scowled at her and pushed a lock of white-blond hair that had escaped his low ponytail out of his face.

 

“What are we doing here? It’s a long story…can we sit down? We’re sorta running from someone and we just saw some very disturbing @#%$ and I, for one, could use something to drink.” He arched an eyebrow as he eyed Kat up and down.

 

“Something a little stronger than Coke.”

 

Kat rolled her eyes. “Come on, I let you in, I better explain you to my friends…Tori’s gonna kill me as it is.”

 

Image by FlamingText.com

Edited April 29, 2004 by Alaeha

[Guest Katiya Damodred]

“And so we ended up here,” Bryan concluded. He took a swig from his glass, leaving perhaps an inch of brandy behind. Kat glanced to her friends. Amy gave the smallest shake of her head, Tori chewed on the end of her hair, and Liz wore a puzzled frown.

 

“So you’re telling me this man shot lightning at your truck,” Kat said flatly. She took a sip of her own brandy, having been a little more perturbed by the encounter than she cared to admit. The fiery liquid slid down her throat, causing her to pull a face. She hated liquor, but Amy had practically forced her to drink it.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Uh-huh. And what exactly were you doing before you saw this guy?”

 

Bryan jumped angrily to his feet and began to pace. “I know it sounds crazy, alright? I saw it myself and even I don’t wanna believe it! But I swear to God it happened.”

 

Kat hesitated. It sounded crazy, like something out of the fantasy books she liked to read, but he seemed so convinced….

 

“Look, the bottom line is, we know you guys are into weed,” Amy said matter-of-factly. Bryan favored her with a hot glare that she coolly ignored. “And its possible that you THOUGHT you saw this man while under its influence.”

 

“No,” Kirk said quietly. “You don’t see things with weed, it just makes you feel good. It’s not like acid or something.”

 

“And besides,” Bryan snapped, jumping in. “Even if we were high and even if we had ‘seen stuff’, what are the chances that we’d see the same exact thing?”

 

Amy fell silent, slightly flustered. Kat chewed her bottom lip a moment before replying.

 

“Ok, so…you obviously saw something. I guess its possible that you saw this guy and that…that he shot lightning from his palms. But how? What did he use, some kind of magic?”

 

Bryan let out an exasperated sigh. He plopped to the floor and finished what was left of his brandy, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

 

“I dunno…I always see you girls with books about a mile thick. I guess it’s that fantasy trash, so you tell me. As near as I can figure its some kinda voodoo, hocus pocus @#%$.”

 

In spite of herself, Kat rolled her eyes again. “Voodoo is as about as effective as ‘hocus pocus @#%$’. What we’d be dealing with is real magic, serious stuff to be reckoned with.”

 

She leaned forward a little over the mound of pillows. “I believe in God, Bryan, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t people out there who don’t and look for other things to fill that void. I believe in God and I believe the Bible when it tells me magic can’t hurt me as long as I believe it can’t. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.

 

“Up till now I never believed in true magic. I mean, look at all the Wiccans at our school. What have we seem them do? Pull plants from the ground and chant crap over them; drink herbal tea to promote healing? They call it magic, but it’s really nothing more than the exploration of the soul and mind, an action any human with patience is capable of.

 

“But what you are talking about is real, honest to goodness magic. If that’s what we’re up against, then I don’t know what to tell you. Yeah, I read fantasy and if we go by that, which seems as good a guide as any given the circumstances, then I may have some ideas of how to work around it. But they’re ideas, Bryan, just ideas.

 

“You came here looking for help. I don’t know what in the hell possessed you to come here, but you did. Maybe you used what brain cells you haven’t killed off yet. But that’s not the point. The point is you want our help. Fine. I’m willing to help you figure out who or what this guy is and what that box is. But I want you to understand that this is new ground for all of us, and if you came here hoping for soldiers who knew the territory, you came to the wrong camp.”

 

Kat sat back. She didn’t really know where all of that had come from, but it had seemed appropriate to say at the time. Her friends sat there in silence, not one flip remark uttered. Kirk stared at her as if seeing her for the first time, his eyes sliding slowly between her and Bryan, who for his part just stared at her. It wasn’t an expression of disbelief, shock, or even amusement. It was a steady, considering gaze in an impassive face.

 

“Done then,” he said smoothly. Kat nodded.

 

“Done.” The whole room seemed to breathe again.

 

“Ok then, this has been one seriously weird night,” Amy said to quiet the nervous chatter that broke out. “It seems that Kat and Bryan have just committed themselves to a war against this guy who shoots lightning from his hands-ok! I’m with ya, all the way…yeah. Well, I don’t know, but it seems to me proceedings of war work better with a night of sleep.”

 

“Yeah, I’m beat,” Bryan said. He snatched an extra blanket from the couch and rolled up in it. “We’ll talk more in the morning.”

 

“Oh, by all means, stay!” Kat invited with a grand sweep of her hand. “Tori won’t mind at all, will you, Tor?”

 

“No, not at all!”

 

Kat grinned at her friends as they all settled down in their blankets. Inside she roiled at what had just happened, her mind bubbling and wanting to run in a thousand different directions at once, but the duty to her body came first. She closed her eyes, forcing her mind to quiet itself. She dropped off to sleep in minutes.

 

Image by FlamingText.com

Edited April 29, 2004 by Alaeha

[Guest Katiya Damodred]

Bryan jerked awake when he felt sunlight on his face. He stared around him, disoriented, until the events of the night returned. He groaned inwardly at the thought of what he had committed himself to.

 

He sat up and stretched, finding the shapes of the girls spread around him, rolled in their sleeping bags. Kirk was curled up in a Lazyboy, looking like some oversized doll. There was one sleeping bag empty, though; Kat was awake.

 

Bryan scowled and eased himself out of his blanket. Like it or not, he had gotten himself tied up with these girls, and he would have to endure them. They would help him, Kat had already promised that, but he couldn’t help but wonder if it was a fair trade; a pair of penetrating blue eyes for a little bit of mystical knowledge from the books those eyes were always in. Not to mention her posse.

 

As he was stepping around the sleeping forms, Kat herself came out of the bathroom. They froze when they saw each other. Bryan finally offered a gruff good morning to break the silent tension, a good morning she coolly returned.

 

“So,” he said, flopping on the U-shaped couch. Kat sat down across from him. She ran her eyes over him once, smiling slightly. Reaching into the pocket of her flannel pajama pants, she pulled out a comb and tossed it at him.

 

“You do know how to use that, right?” she asked, a slight twinkle in her eye. Bryan growled something he hoped she didn’t hear as he dragged the comb through his hair. He didn’t think it fair that her shoulder-length dark brown waves seemed perfect.

 

“Better?” he asked when he was done.

 

“Much,” she said, flashing a smile. He scowled and threw the comb back at her.

 

“Anyway,” he said, continuing his previous train of thought. “I figure we’ve got a few things to do today.” Kat arched an eyebrow, which he pretended not to notice. “First of all, we have to go back to my house and see if there’s anything left of that guy. We ran outta there so fast, I didn’t really think about what I was doin’, but I left my mom there with that lunatic. I gotta make sure she’s ok.”

 

Not that it would matter, he thought dismally. His fist clenched a moment, and he winced slightly as his ring crushed the skin between his fingers.

 

“But after that, we’ll go to the library.”

 

“The library? What for?”

 

He arched an eyebrow. “Unless you can think of another place to do research?”

 

Kat frowned, then abruptly smiled. “You’re right. We’d better wake everyone up.”

 

Roughly two hours later the seven of them had piled in Kirk’s truck, the two boys riding in the cab, the four girls riding in the bed. It was easier than taking two cars. There was little talk as they raced down the nearly deserted roads and finally the country lane that Bryan lived on.

 

Kirk stopped in front of a large farmhouse, two stories tall. It was more like a gray skeleton of a house, with the strips of white painted skin falling off as it decayed. The windows, like eyes on a corpse, were black and scratched, many without glass at all. The porch sagged heavily in the center, like the hollowed out point between ribs and pelvis. The whole place reeked of death and decay.

 

Bryan’s heart was thundering in his chest as he got out of the passenger side of the Chevy. The four girls hopped out of the bed, silently taking in the unkempt yard and dying house. An almost palpable sense of dread hung over the place, like an oppressive black storm cloud.

 

Kirk came around and put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. He gave it a brief squeeze, offering his silent support, for which Bryan was grateful. Taking a deep breath, he walked up the driveway, climbed the shallow stone steps to the sagging porch, and marched inside.

 

“Mom?”

 

He looked around the living room. Everything was exactly the way he had left it last night except his mother was not sitting on the couch. With deliberate calm he glanced into the kitchen, his room, the bathroom, and the laundry room. There was still no sign of her. He fought down a growing panic as he raced up the rickety stairs to the second floor.

 

“Mom?” called frantically. He searched the second floor and still found nothing. He charged back downstairs, refusing to admit she was gone. She had to be here somewhere!

 

“Mom? Mom? MOM!!!!”

 

The death silence was all that answered.

 

Image by FlamingText.com

Edited April 29, 2004 by Alaeha

[Guest Katiya Damodred]

Kat watched Bryan shuffle out the front door. As he approached, the dazed, lost look on his face was all the answer she needed.

 

“I’m sorry, Bryan,” she said softly as he stopped by the truck. He turned his dark, forest green eyes on her. She had always thought he had pretty eyes. He blinked as if he didn’t recognize her, then said slowly,

 

“There’s no sign of a struggle. I don’t know if she’s dead or not, but I guess I have to assume the worst.”

 

Without thinking, Kat reached out and put her arms around Bryan. He wasn’t extremely tall, but Kat was of no great height herself, her head just barely coming to his shoulder. He stiffened as her arms circled his waist, but eventually, when it became clear she wasn’t letting go, he relaxed. He put his arms hesitantly around her shoulders, and suddenly it was too much. No matter how uncaring Rebecca Richardson sometimes seemed, when faced with the reality that he would probably never see her alive again, Bryan Richardson put his head on the shoulder of one who cared about his pain and cried.

 

Image by FlamingText.com

Edited April 29, 2004 by Alaeha

[Guest Katiya Damodred]

“I think I’ve found something!” Liz whispered excitedly.

 

“Really?” Kat vaulted up out of her chair and peered over Liz’s shoulder. The others gathered around slowly, eyeing the little blurb of information on the webpage Liz had found hopefully. Bryan stood directly behind Kat, stiff and rigid as a board. He hadn’t talked to anyone since they had left his house earlier that morning, and he absolutely refused to look Kat in the eye. She was perfectly content to pretend that the incident at his house had not happened, yet he seemed too afraid that she would bring it up to talk to her, or to anyone, for that matter.

 

“Look here, it says, the Afrandi is a mythical secret society supposedly founded sometime during the Middle Ages. Its members reportedly practiced ‘magic’, then referred to as witchcraft, and cavorted with the devil, drinking blood and stealing children as a sacrifice to their evil master. There are no records of any such society anywhere to date, and it is believed that this society of wizards and witches, sorcerers and sorceresses, is yet another fancy born of the terror of the Middle Ages.

 

“Is that it?”

 

“Well, there’s a link on Afrandi, let me check that…”

 

They had been searching for nearly two hours, fruitlessly, for information concerning the word the man had screamed the night before. They had fiddled with spellings and checked every source available in the Christian County Library. This was their first lead yet.

 

“This looks interesting,” Liz murmured as she scanned the page.

 

“What is it?” Bryan asked suddenly. Kat jumped, having nearly forgotten he was there.

 

Liz glanced over her shoulder at the boy, then up at Kat, who shrugged slightly. Tucking a strand loose hair back over her ear, she shifted her weight in the rock hard wooden chair before answering.

 

“It’s a more detailed look at the Afrandi. There’s some nonsense about cavorting with the devil, nightly rituals that involved human sacrifice and blood-drinking, but it doesn’t seem to be serious. It says that was the common image of the Afrandi during the Middle Ages. But that’s not what I’m talking about. It’s this part down here that gets juicy.

 

“After the blackness of stupidity and confusion lifted from the world, the Afrandi had vanished. All traces of them had been wiped from any country where before they had run rampant. For nearly two hundred years the Afrandi remained a mere memory of a memory.

 

“However, in the 1700s, a chapter house suddenly appeared in London. For the first time in two centuries, the Afrandi were once again active. Eye witnesses reported the same group of men and women going into the chapter house, with rarely any new faces. A few of the higher members even took a ship to the colonies, supposedly to begin a chapter house there as well.

 

“Soon after they left London came the American Revolution. Once more, the Afrandi vanished from sight and didn’t reappear again until well after the government of America was established. A chapter house was erected in Virginia, and another one soon followed it New York. As the United States pushed westward, chapter houses of the Afrandi followed behind.

 

“When the Civil War erupted in 1861, the Afrandi closed many of their chapter houses, in free and slave states alike. Even after the war ended in 1865, they did not reappear. Many more of the chapter houses were closed, until, to this day, only four remain, and those are all but deserted.”

 

“Does it say where they are?” Bryan pressed. He leaned

 

forward and put his hands on the back of Liz’s chair. His knuckles quickly turned white as he gripped it as hard as he could.

 

Liz clicked on another link. A page came up with four names in bold, along with an address beneath each. They all stared at the fourth address.

 

“Here?” Kat whispered. “There’s a chapter house here, in Christian County?”

 

“Not only in Christian County,” Bryan said, his eyes intent upon the screen, his voice a low hiss of anticipation. “It’s right here in Springsfeld.”

 

Image by FlamingText.com

Edited April 29, 2004 by Alaeha

[Guest Katiya Damodred]

It was almost too good to be true. Bryan felt his hopes soaring at the thought of an available source of these Afrandi so close to home. He knew the place, on a little avenue just off Main Street. They were within walking distance of it now. They would wait until night, and then they would sneak in. They could infiltrate it, they could study it, they could get in and…

 

And what? What would they do once inside? The house was not a small one, and in the dark, while attempting to hide from whatever crazy wizards were in there, it would be all but impossible. And what was he thinking anyway? What could six teenagers do against an ancient, powerful, secret society of people that were obviously in control of power that went far beyond a normal person’s grasp of reality? He sagged visibly, his enraptured smile fading to one of resignation and defeat. With the dawning realization of the utter hopelessness of the situation, Bryan’s high spirits were pulled down by its weight and held in the cage of despair that now surrounded his soul.

 

“So what’s next?” Amy asked to fill the silence. “Do we go in or what?”

 

“I think we’re looking in the wrong direction,” Kat said simply. She tossed her head so that one soft wing of chestnut hair fell back over her left shoulder. “I mean, this all started with that box, right? That man seemed pretty upset when you took it- isn’t that right?”

 

“Yeah, that’s right,” Kirk answered when he saw that Bryan wasn’t going to.

 

“Ok, so doesn’t it stand to reason that we should study the box as well? We should probably have studied it first, but oh well; now we have something to do with any information we find on it.

 

“Now, I need you to think, and I mean both of you. Do you remember this man ever giving this box any sort of name or title or any other recognition other than ‘box’?”

 

Kirk’s brows pulled together in concentration, but for Bryan it came effortlessly. At any other time, he would have resented Kat’s assertive control and slightly condescending speech, but at that moment, he couldn’t seem to make himself care.

 

“It was Xanthalus; the Box of Xanthalus.”

 

“Great. Liz, why don’t you run a search on that.” It wasn’t a question.

 

Bryan supposed he should be more lenient, more accepting, of Kat’s behavior. She was a leader by nature; sometimes it seemed she took control without ever realizing what she was doing. Even when she followed, she somehow made it seem that it was through her leadership that someone else was leader. She had a commanding presence about her and a fairly easy-going nature that made most people not care about her slightly bossy tendencies. Bryan was not one of those people, but in light of the present situation, he knew he would have to deal with it. Besides, if she didn’t lead, who would? It was his problem more than anyone else’s in the ragtag group, and with a sort of detached air, he recognized the fact that he was in no condition to lead anyone out of a wet paper bag, much less in a fight with magic people.

 

“That was easy,” Liz said. With a start, Bryan realized he had been staring straight into Kat’s piercing eyes that were now a fair azure, now a cornflower-flecked gray. He dropped his gaze quickly, scowling around to make sure no one had seen. He didn’t want anyone getting the wrong ideas. With an almost audible growl, he forced himself to focus on the computer screen.

 

“It says here, on this same page, that the Box of Xanthalus was a highly coveted item belonging to the Afrandi. Only members of the highest orders were allowed to even be in the same room with it, so great was its power, and so heavily was it guarded. It was kept under lock and key (not to mention under the protection of various spells and other magical traps) at all times in the capital chapter house in London, where it is believed to be to this day.”

 

“I’ll betcha dollars to pesos its not there anymore,” Kirk murmured knowingly.

 

“Thank you Captain Obvious,” Amy muttered just loud enough for Kat to hear. Kat shushed her.

 

“So it doesn’t say what it does at all?” she asked Liz.

 

“Nope, just that it’s extremely powerful.”

 

Bryan ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

 

“So that leaves us where?” he asked. “We can’t exactly pull that box apart because for all we know, it’s some nuclear device that will blow up half the world.”

 

Kat gave him a look that would have rivaled a pancake or a Kansas highway for flatness. “I doubt VERY much that this box is a nuclear weapon.”

 

“Whatever,” he sneered. “I thought someone as brilliant as you would know that I didn’t mean those words literally, but it’s just what it represents that I was trying to get across to you. The point is we can’t do anything to that box because it’s powerful and we don’t have any clue as to how it works or what it might do.

 

“And we can’t even think about going to the chapter house, because well, if there are more people like our friend in the black mustang, then I’m not too interested in meeting them, though more than likely they’ll wanna meet me.”

 

“And lest we forget,” Kat picked up, “we have the added mysteries of why the box is no longer in London and what it is doing here in Christian County, and who on earth that man is.” She left unsaid the mystery of Bryan’s mother remained, though she knew everyone was thinking about it.

 

Silence reigned for a time. Kirk slumped forward and rested his head in his hands.

 

“I need a drink,” he murmured to the table.

 

Image by FlamingText.com

Edited April 29, 2004 by Alaeha

[Guest Katiya Damodred]

He couldn’t see in the council chamber, for it was kept in a permanent shroud of darkness. It was a spell put in place a century ago, and it was still as strong as ever. He felt as though he had been dipped in ink and set free in a cave of obsidian stone.

 

“You have failed,” came a voice from somewhere in the darkness. He was not a man to fear (indeed, he feared nothing in the realm of the norm), but at the immense power, the vast wealth of knowledge and agelessness contained in that voice, he quaked and shivered from fear.

 

“Yes Excellency,” he whispered to his toes. Whatever the Hall of Void was made of, it echoed every word said. The whisper bounced from wall to wall, from ceiling to floor, filling every crevice in the unseen room.

 

“And now the coveted Box of Xanthalus is not only lost to us, but is in the hands of the boy.”

 

“Yes Excellency.”

 

There was a long pause that may have only been minutes, but to the man it seemed an eternity. Finally, the voice came again.

 

“This is unacceptable, my son.”

 

“Yes Excellency. How would I be punished?”

 

Another indefinite pause, then,

 

“There is more to this punishment than will meet the eye. THEY have decreed this punishment, and I only deliver it. THEY wish this on you, and even I do not understand it. For this crime, it is quite drastic, but I do not presume to question their ways. ”

 

The man swallowed a lump in his throat. With his hands bound as they were, stiff and rigid as stone (courtesy of another spell), he could do nothing about the bead of cold perspiration that slid down his brow and into his eyes. He blinked furiously, trying to get it out.

 

“Yes Excellency,” he breathed. He felt briefly disgusted with himself, for his own voice sounded cracked and whimpery and full of dread. But it was rightly so, he supposed. He knew the THEY the Master Wielder spoke of, and if anything in the world scared him, his world or the one he walked, it was THEY.

 

“My son, you must leave here by the Paths of the Fallen.”

 

The man broke completely, and tears coursed down his smooth cheeks. He offered a prayer of thanks for the darkness, though what he prayed to was uncertain; he had long ago forsaken allegiance to any god or demon.

 

“I know your tears, my son. You are right to fear the Paths of the Fallen; no one who has walked those hallowed halls has ever come out the same, most not entirely in their right minds.”

 

He was hoping that had not been true, but the Master’s calm voice could have just said it was raining outside. It was therefore a dead certainty.

 

“Why Excellency?” he hiccoughed. He fell to his knees, hoping the Master could sense it in the darkness and understand just how much he begged forgiveness. “Why must I walk that way? There are other ways to the world, why that one?” His whole body shook, wracked with sobs and fear.

 

He abruptly froze as a hand was laid on his head in mute sympathy. As far as he knew, no one had ever even seen the Master Wielder, to say nothing of being touched. He was awed by the power flowing through the veins of that hand, awed by the feel of other touches in that one. His tears had stopped, and he trembled at the nearness of the leader of the Afrandi.

 

“You have not Fallen, my son,” the Master said softly. “THEY only wish for you to know the price of failure; the Box is that important. THEY expect great things from you, and you cannot be weak. Should you fail in this, you will Fall, but I assure you, THEY expect you to succeed…as do I.”

 

“If THEY can have faith in me, if you can, Excellency, then I must have faith in myself.”

 

“A great principle indeed, my son,” the Master said with a hint of amusement. “Now rise.”

 

He stood as the hand was withdrawn. He still could see nothing, but that was all that had not changed. Terror inside him still fought to claw its way to the surface, but he pressed it down, a strong sense of purpose overriding his fear. He bowed from the waist, hoping he was facing the Master.

 

“Until we meet again, Excellency. May the Corridors always be open to your mind, and the power a well inside your heart.”

 

“Trod the Worlds carefully, my son, and always remember the Spring of Life and the Pool of Death can be waded by those with the desire and the means.”

 

The man closed his eyes, and the Hall of Void shifted around him.

 

Image by FlamingText.com

Edited April 29, 2004 by Alaeha

[Guest Katiya Damodred]

Some hours after they had left the library, the six teenagers that would save the world were sprawled in Tori’s basement, at a loss. The box sat on the couch, the object of intense scrutiny by the six sets of eyes. A few pairs of hands twisted in laps, one clenched and unclenched, one kneaded a pillow, and one fingered a ring.

 

“It has to be done,” said the owner of the pair of hands kneading the pillow. Kat tossed the pillow aside and locked her gaze on Bryan, who twisted his ring absently. “It’s safer working with the box then going after that chapter house, yes?”

 

“Yeah, I know you’re right, just give me a second, will ya?”

 

“Sure, but hurry up.” Kat was fast losing patience, despite the fact that Bryan was putting himself at risk.

 

For his part, Bryan was more nervous than he had ever been in his life. The fact that box had been in his family, in his very house, for years seemed not to matter with the knowledge of what it really was. Thinking of all the times he had tossed it aside or just thrown it into a box made him want to empty his stomach of everything he had ever eaten.

 

Taking a deep breath and remaining very aware of all the eyes on him, especially the piercing blue ones, he snatched the box from the couch. He was a little surprised that it didn’t blow up in his hands. Gingerly, he turned it so that one of the silver chasings glared up at him, reflecting the now fading sunlight. Long ago he had discovered that this particular bit of chasing was loose, and was quick to find that it was actually a way to remove the leather covering. He didn’t know why one would want to remove the cover at the time, though now it was all to clear. The reason had come from Kat during one of the multiple pooling sessions that had taken place since they left the library.

 

“This is kind of like a book I read once,” she had said.

 

“This is good,” Amy agreed.

 

Kat rolled her eyes. “I mean, Terry Goodkind wrote a book called Wizard’s First Rule. The main villain was after this box, the third of three called the Boxes of Orden. They contained powerful magic.”

 

“So what happened?” Bryan asked.

 

“Well, it’s not what happened that’s important, it’s something about the boxes and OUR box. I’ve been thinking, and isn’t it possible that the leather is just a covering for what’s underneath? In the book, the Boxes of Orden were covered in gold and gems, but they were only the coverings, because underneath, the boxes were absolutely black.”

 

And then it had clicked for Bryan.

 

Now, he pulled the loose chasing and twisted it in such a way that he felt the entire leather covering come loose. From the hole where the silver had been, he worked the blue leather off; it dropped to the floor with a soft thump.

 

The box that sat in his hand was suddenly much heavier; it soon followed the covering to the floor. The six of them stared at it. It was nothing more than darkly polished mahogany.

 

“Well that sucks!” Kirk raged. “It’s covered in blue leather and silver and all we get for the real box is…”

 

Bryan had rested his hand on top of the mahogany cube just as Kirk began ranting. At once, just as when the strange man had touched Bryan’s head, there was a flash with no light and a thunder crash without sound, and the six of them and the box were gone.

 

Image by FlamingText.com

Edited April 29, 2004 by Alaeha

[Guest iori13]

maybe a stupid Question..but is this Kat??

[Justin Silverblade]

Nay my friend, not the Kat you know.

 

 

 

Good stuff Katiya, btw (and so sorry to inturrupt the flow of your work). I haven't got far, but I do so like what I have read.

[Guest Katiya Damodred]

"...wood."

 

 

 

Bryan opened his eyes, half expecting that action to be impossible. His first thought was, of course, that he had been stricken blind. It was absolutely dark; a darkness so deep and opaque that it seemed to cling to him like an unwelcome second skin. Its soft, fiberous tendrils caressed his neck and arms, and he shivered.

 

 

 

He felt rather than saw the presence of the others. Even so, he called out,

 

 

 

"Is everyone ok?" His voice fell flat in that oppressive darkness, almost as if he were in a padded room. The irony of that thought almost made him smile. Almost.

 

 

 

A chorus of six confirmations fell into the darkness. He felt someone sidle up to him, and even before her tiny hand connected with his arm, he knew.

 

 

 

"Kat," he said.

 

 

 

"Bryan," she answered.

 

 

 

"What the f*ck happened?"

 

 

 

"I couldn't tell you. Remember how I said all these tests were hypothetical, that it was all based on stuff I'd read? Well, this is one of those aspects I didn't expect."

 

 

 

Quite suddenly, there was light.

 

 

 

Despite its welcome brillance, everyone flinched. It wasn't even bright, really, but after that complete darkness, it was rather like dropping the sun into cold, unsuspecting space. It would have been an odd sun, though, because instead of the warm, violent, golden red radience, it was a cool, distant blue. Oh yes, and it was coming from a box apparently made of mahogany.

 

 

 

"What the f*ck is this?" Kirk asked shrilly. Bryan had rarely seen his friend off balance, but in the last twenty-four hours, it had been happening a lot. Not that it was unfounded; recent events could excuse some unbalance in even the most balanced person.

 

 

 

"And where are we?" Liz murmured, more to point out that they didn't know rather than to expect an answer. It was a room, a room with no doors or windows. It was spacious, but definetly designed to keep people out- or in.

 

 

 

"You are here, is not that enough?"

 

 

 

The voice seemed to permeate through the room like an invisible fog. It drifted into every corner and around each body, tasting them like a snake tastes the air with its tongue. Bryan could have sworn he felt an actual body slip by him, and in that one brush, it knew everything about him, was more intimate with him than any lover ever could be. He felt...comforted...by that body; it made him feel safe in the way that mothers can always make small children feel safe.

 

 

 

And then that voice really did have a body, and even before his cynical, non-believer's mind took it in, before his head could tell his heart that it couldn't possibly be seeing what it thought it saw, Bryan couldn't help but stare and let his mind remark,

 

 

 

"I always wanted to see an angel."

 

 

 

Image by FlamingText.com

[reverie]

like this story lots... if you have more plz post

 

rev...

Edited April 29, 2004 by Alaeha