Skippy

“Wow, this is awesome!”

So Skippy started talking all of a sudden. He was sitting there, looking at me with his wild blue eyes, madly wagging his black and white tail, his mouth wide open in what could only be an ecstatic grin. At first, I was excited as hell.

“Yes it is!” I shouted out with glee. “What did you do? How did this happen?”

“I don’t know, but it’s awesome! Wow, there’s so many things I wanna tell you now! Wow, you have no idea! Wow!”

“Whoah, slow down there, buddy,” I smiled at him and patted him on the head. “This is kind of hard to take in, though. I can’t believe this actually happened!”

“I know, right? Wow, I just… Okay, look, we need to talk about some things. Like, wow, I know, like, you’re busy and stuff but we, like, seriously need to talk about our walk schedule. Like, wow. I need to go out more, you know? You could think of making me a doggie door or something, ‘cause wow-“

“But we already have a doggy door.”

“We do?” Skippy asked as he turned his head to the side. “Wow, I didn’t know that. Still I really don’t get you people. Like, wow, why do you pick up my poop? I left it there and it’s supposed to be there. Wow, like, talk about rude. Do you have an explanation for that, huh? Or maybe you can tell my why you give me only the crunchy stuff to eat lately? You used to give me that chunky stuff and that was amazing, wow, and you gave me the stuff you ate and it was much better, but now you don’t and I don’t know why. Do you just hate me? Because, wow, I love you and I’m sorry if I made you hate me and I apologize and I want to make it up to you because I want to be a good boy and-“

“Skippy, please, could you just shut up for a second?”

“Oh, wow, sorry! I just did it again, didn’t I? I’m so sorry, please, forgive me. I’ll be a good dog. I’ll eat the crunchy bit and use the doggy door. Just please, please, don’t be mad. I-“

And he just kept going on and on. I couldn’t focus anymore. All his talking began to fade into one incoherent yelp and it was driving me nuts. Then I realized – it really was a yelp. I opened my eyes and found myself in my bed, the sound of a lonely dog crying coming from downstairs. I called him to me and he came to my bedside, tail wagging, piercing blue eyes gleaming with joy.

“Wanna go for a walk?”

Thank God, his reply was just a short, loud bark.

A curse

They say there’s a curse on my family. I was starting to believe that.

“Are you certain?” I whispered into the receiver. For a second I heard nothing but faint static. I stood there in almost complete darkness, the only light coming from a lamp on the desk, illuminating a notebook covered in a blot of red ink. I cleared my throat and said, louder “Are you sure it was him?”

“Who else could it be?” the raspy voice on the other end replied. “There’s only so many people with a–“

“D-don’t say it over the phone!” A drop of sweat ran down my forehead. “You never know who might be listening in.” I took a deep breath. I could have sworn I heard him chuckle in the receiver. “So what now? I’m scared.”

“As you should be. That man keeps his promises.”

Promises. With his last breath, the man vowed he would take revenge on my father’s family for what he’d done to him. He cursed us. Could I have done anything to prevent this?

“What am I supposed to do? I can’t conduct the purification ritual by myself.”

“I can help.”

I wasn’t sure of that. Yes, he did call to warn me, but there was something unnerving about his voice. He claimed to be uncle Gerome and yes, his voice sounded familiar, but there was something off about the way he was saying all this.

Then again, I didn’t really have much of a choice.

“Fine. Where?”

"Midnight, on the bridge. Come alone."

Another hot day

The heat was immense. The sun was burning so much I could barely stand. But the weather was nice, the smells so pleasant, it was too hard to resist. I just stood there, taking in my surroundings. I heard the grass sway in the wind, dandelions heave with their ripe smell. But then I heard a sound. A terrifying, metallic clang. I dashed to hide as fast as I could, crawling beneath something I didn’t manage to take a good look of. But I knew this stuff. It was always safe under there. It gave me shade. It was cool and the smell was really unique. Someone was coming, but all I could see were feet. Even after they’d disappeared from view, I still stayed in that place. But I started to feel paranoid. Sounds coming from everywhere, and I didn’t really have a good opportunity to look around. So I crawled out and looked left and right – the coast was clear. I ran up without a sound, as I always do, to that familiar tree – my tree. One, two, three leaps were enough for me to find myself at the top. The view was simply the best there. I could see tons of people walking on the sidewalk, but I knew they couldn’t see me. Feeling at ease in that situation, I started to brush myself. But then I heard that dreaded voice. The voice of a child who would always spot me and would simply never leave me alone. I knew the rest of my day would be hell.

“Here kitty, kitty,” it called, its high pitched voice piercing my ears.

The Great Fissure

The Great Fissure had always been there. None who lived knew how it had come to be. None who lived knew what lay beyond it. There were tales of dragons and restless mountains, constantly clashing, spewing fire and ice at each other, the resulting sky obscuring the sky. There were tales of people living there.

They said the people beyond the fissure knew naught of daylight and the sky’s blueness. They were nomads, constantly on the move, as the earth around them shifted and warped in the ensuing conflict of titans. To better hide from such immense forces, the fissure folk were short and nimble, their skin was gray, and their legs and arms were disproportionately long. Just as none knew how the Fissure came to be, so did no one know how the fissure folk came to inhabit it.

The fissure folk had their own myths, however. They too wished to know how life looked like beyond the Great Fissure. They’d heard rumors that water flows there much in the same fashion as fire did in their Black Lands, and that cattle and woodfolk could roam free, and that men built steady houses, for the earth there was still as a rock. But they would not go there. They believed the Black Lands were theirs to inherit, theirs to guard. The Great Fissure, as the story told from generation to generation went, was created when the Archangel Uriel had the Abyss Wyrm shackled. The fiery sword’s mighty strike was enough to rend the world asunder, and the fissure folk were there to guard the hallowed land, so that the beast may reign the skies no more and there be peace forever after.

And yet, far away to the north, beyond the boundless ocean,  there was a land of people who worshiped the Wyrm. For eons they had prepared a pilgrimage to help relieve the Wyrm of his prison. Only then, they believed, would their befouled land be restored to a peaceful state. They would not allow for anything to stand in their way. Not the fissure folk, not even Archangel Uriel.

Alley

Tap, tap, tap. My footsteps echo as I make my way down the narrow alley, hand sliding along the wall, taking in every little dent, every imperfection, every little sign that the walls were made by living hands and were inhabited by living beings. Life flowed within the wall. I can feel it as I took in the heat of its surface. I can smell the heat. The warm, summer air. Arid, but pleasant. Filled to the brim with promises of many exotic and familiar flavors that await me once I reach the end of the alley. My stomach can’t hold it much longer. My brain is overloaded with anticipation. I grow tired of the darkness – I open my eyes. For a moment I see nothing. Then colors start to surface – deep oranges with splashes of green assault me. I feel even warmer, my appetite ever stronger. I pick up my pace. Tappity tap, tap. I’m almost there.