Tales of Slackstar & Raelynn: Damsel in Distress

Slackstar gulped down his beer and slammed the mug down on the counter.  “Another” he barked at the tender, then wiped the foam off his face.  The chubby man grunted and slid the beer across the counter to him.  The beer sloshed across the lip of the glass when he caught it, there was more head than beer.  Slackstar didn’t care, he grimaced, tossed back his head and drank.

“Having a bad day?” a voice next to him asked.  Slackstar turned his head noticing for the first time the man sitting in the stool next to him.  He was thin, hunched over, unshaven and dirty.   His eyes were bloodshot and dark, his clothes looked as though they hadn’t been washed during this Emperor’s reign.  Perhaps longer.  Slackstar shook his head as he swallowed the swill.

“Need liquid courage.” he winked playfully at the patron but his heart wasn’t in it.

“Another!” he called to the tender.

“Gold first!” the bartender held out his hand.

Slackstar rolled his eyes but produced a large gold coin, seemingly from nowhere, and slapped it into the dirty hand.  It was enough to buy the entire tavern.

“Keep them comin’”.  The bartender’s eyes widened slightly, he stuck the coin between his teeth and bit down.  Satisfied, he poured another glass and slid it across the counter.  Slackstar lifted the glass and toasted silently to no one in particular.

“It’s a woman.” the voice interjected again.  Slackstar turned and looked at the man around the upturned glass.  “I can see it in your eyes.  She must be something special.”  He chuckled as he looked Slackstar up and down, “funny how women can sap the courage out of even the strongest of us, eh?”

Slackstar slammed the mug on the counter, there was a sliding sound and the dull thump as Slackstar caught the replacement glass against his open hand.  “It isn’t her that terrifies me so much as her present company.”

“What’s her name?”  The man nodded, hesitant understanding forming on his face.

“Raelynn” he spoke her name to his glass.  How could she have gotten into this mess?

“You steeling yourself to woo her away from her man with your musical charms?” he glanced meaningfully at the lute strapped to Slackstar’s back.

“Ha!” Slackstar took a big swig from his glass, “I wish! That’d be far simpler.”  He involuntarily glanced down at the sword strapped to his hip.

“She’s in some kind of trouble then.”  He was dripping the last dregs from Slackstar’s empty mugs into his own.

“You could say that.” he finished the mug and slammed it down.  Slide, thump.

“Haven’t seen you around here before.  You new in town?” Slackstar nodded as he came up for air.  “You better be careful stirring things up, the Magistrate of this town doesn’t take too kindly to troublemakers.”

“Then the Magistrate should take care who he places those filthy eyes of his on.” Slackstar cast a dark look at the drunk with the desired effect.  The man shrank away and returned his eyes to his half empty drink.

“Forget I said anything” the man said to his glass.  Slackstar laughed and slapped him on the back jovially.

“Whiskey for me and my friend here!” he called to the bartender, two glasses and a bottle promptly appeared before them.  Slackstar poured two generous portions and raised a glass.  “To women!” he winked again, and swayed slightly on his feet.  He downed the whiskey and slammed the glass on the counter.

“To women!” his companion chimed in with uncertainty.  Slackstar guffawed and slapped the man’s back again.

“You keep the bottle, I’d better get going.” and like that Slackstar was out the door.

The town outside was hot, and sticky with humidity.  The sun was just beginning to set, but the air would not cool significantly until just before sunrise.  The streets were empty, people had already gone home for the evening.  They’d wake just before the sun and get most of their business done before the hottest part of the day.

He untied his and Raelynn’s horses and guided them through the streets, preferring to walk rather than ride.   They’d only meant to ride through this town, stop a day or so for food and supplies then be on their way.  That was three days ago.  Raelynn loved this town, she said she found something in the air intoxicating.  Slackstar thought it was alright.  He wasn’t a big fan of all the sand, but the greenery was nice.  He didn’t like ocean towns as a rule, he felt trapped, with fewer escape routes.

They’d got swept up in some local festival, lots of drinking and recklessness.  The next thing Slackstar knew Raelynn had caught the eye of the Magistrate, a man who takes what he wants and offers no apologies.

Slackstar’s quiet questions and covert bribes had revealed that the Magistrate liked to keep his ‘acquisitions’ in a tower at the north end of town.  It was likely she was chained up there, being beaten or tortured as a part of some strange and bizarre mental conditioning.  He shivered just to think of it.

The tower was guarded day and night by an entire battalion of soldiers.  It seemed the magistrate was a favorite of the Emperor’s and consequently had a disproportionately large amount of gold at his disposal.  Slackstar wasn’t concerned though, his strength lie in the shadows.  He could slip in and out past ten thousand men completely undetected.  At least, he was pretty sure he could.  He’d never actually tried it.

The town was starting to thin, the tower was a bit further along, but he could already see it peeking out through the trees.  The air seemed chill here.  He tied up the horses near the road but out of the way where they wouldn’t be seen, and began creeping through the bushes towards the tower.

He eventually came to a line in the brush, the tower was surrounded by a courtyard and a fence barred his approach.  He quietly circled the tower, using the shrubbery as cover, and saw no guards posted outside.  He chuckled to himself, all these guards and gold, and he can’t even properly secure a tower.

Careful to stay out of direct view of any of the windows and arrowslits he ran to the fence and quickly scaled it.  Just as quickly he found himself huddled against the wall of the tower beneath a window.  He shivered and rubbed his bare arms then cursed under his breath for not grabbing a warmer tunic first.

He crept around the building, low and tight to the building keeping a constant eye on the forest surrounding the him.  He couldn’t help but feel something was off, something wasn’t quite adding up.  Where was everyone?

He slipped on the ground, landing hard on his hands and knees, he cursed again as small pieces of ice on the blades of grass sliced into his hands.  It had been so hot only a few moments ago…

Before he could finish his thought he heard a sickening crack and looked up in time to see the tower shiver.  It started leaning towards him, bending about halfway up, as though sketching a bow.  Slackstar jumped to his feet and ran, ran harder than he remembered running in a long time.   He ran towards the tower entrance, and away from the path of the falling stones.  When he got to the doorway a blue corpse exploded through the wooden door.  It had been pierced hundreds of times by little icicles, they steamed in the dusk twilight.

He pulled out his sword and glanced around nervously, looking for someone to fight.  The top half of the tower had finished crashing to the ground, the broken edges glistened icy blue and billowed steam.  Water vapor boiled through the entrance to the tower, and Slackstar could not see anything in the darkness.

“Filthy mage!” a desperate cry sounded from the darkness.

“I don’t really care about your religious perversions,” a woman’s voice, calm and cool.  “Just go get your master, he and I must have words.”  The rustle and thumping of a struggle.

Eventually the first voice squeaked, “yes ma’am.”  A few moments later a tall, muscular man came scrambling out of the tower, glancing behind him as he rushed towards the road.  He squealed, startled when he saw Slackstar but kept running.

“What took you so long?” she purred as she stepped out of the wrecked tower.  She was short and pale skinned, with crisp blue eyes.  Her hair shimmered blue, as though strung up with beads, but Slackstar knew it was ice and would melt once she was done fooling around.  She clung to a icy blue short sword, it steamed in the warm air.

“We’ve gotta go!” Slackstar spat at her, with perhaps a touch more impatience than he had intended.

She raised an eyebrow at him and wagged her sword back in forth in his face.  “Didn’t you hear me? I have some things I need to say to this magistrate.  He’ll be here in just a minute.”

“You don’t actually think he’ll come alone, do you?”

“Of course not” she winked.

No sooner had she uttered the words than Slackstar heard the hurried clatter of an incoming army.  Bellows and horns surrounded them as the soldiers poured into the courtyard and circled the tower.  Hundreds of them, they rattled swords and notched arrows.  The white and gold of their uniforms matched the frosty white ground in the diminishing light.

Slackstar sighed and sheathed his sword, and brought down the lute from his back.  He began strumming a sullen ballad.  His soft voice carried easily through the thin, frozen air.

“Twas once a fool, his heart adrift,

No one denied him what he wished.”

Raelynn smirked and raised her hands above her head, as though in surrender.  “Where’s the magistrate?” she called out.

“I’m here, my love.” he shouldered through the soldiers and took a few steps.  He gestured around, “why don’t we talk about this, hon?”

“One day his heart, a maid did steal,

She loved him not, what an ordeal!”

Her grin grew wider as she brought her hands down to her sides.  In response to the motion, the forest around them exploded, leaves, needles and branches frozen solid and encased in ice came flying at them from all directions slicing and piercing soldiers indiscriminately.  It was chaos incarnate, the soldiers screamed and yelled as they swung their swords and shields seeking invisible assailants and in futile attempts to shelter their soft bodies.  It was over in seconds, the battlefield was nearly silent except for the hissing and cracking of melting ice.  Only three people remained alive then, Slackstar, Raelynn, and the Magistrate.

“The jealous fool locked her away,

In his prison, she did not stay.”

“Yes, let’s talk, sweetheart,” the last word dripped with venom.

“W-w-we can work something out.” the nobleman stammered at her as he stood up from where he had cowered on the ground. “Y-y-you are clearly not happy.  N-n-name anything you wish, I-I-I will do anything in my p-p-power.”

“I want your death.”

“C-c-certainly you jest, my dear!” he glanced around hesitantly, clearly not fully digesting what had just happened.  “If you truly wanted me dead, surely I already would be.”  His confidence was growing, he stood taller.  It was almost comical to watch him naively believe he had some upper hand in this confrontation.

“Evil deeds he wrought on her mind,

She was not docile, he would find.”

Raelynn wasted no more time with chat, she lunged at him, sword swinging wildly, leaving blue streaks in the air.  Slackstar winced at the awkward show, she’d left herself open, but luckily the magistrate hadn’t taken the bait.  She had always been terrible with a blade, and today was no exception, but luck was with her as she had caught her foe by surprise.  There was genuine shock on his face, and he barely fended her off in time.

“Twas a great battle in the ice,”

The magistrate seemed to be at a loss for how to fight against her, it was all he could do to block her haphazard and random thrusts and parries.  He kept stepping back from her, trying to gain some footing and didn’t notice the puddle of ice behind him until it was too late.  He fell onto his back and dropped his own sword in the shock.  Raelynn dove on him, blade first, ready to slam it straight down into his chest.  The magistrate caught her just in time, his hands trembling with the effort of holding her at arm’s length, the blade quivered meer inches above his chest.

“My dear,” he grunted out, “you are overreacting.”  His face was red with exertion, sweat beaded on his face.

Raelynn screamed wordlessly, rage and fury pouring out of her as she drove down harder on the sword but it did not move.

“...That day she skewered his heart twice.”

The magistrate looked at Slackstar, as though finally noticing the song’s lyrics.  He looked profoundly confused and terrified.  Realization of the futility of his situation appeared to dawn on him.  The air around them grew very cold and Raelynn’s sword began to steam strangely, instead of wafting away from her icy blade it was as though the blade absorbed the very moisture from the air around it.  The tip began to grow, slowly at first then faster and without moving her hand the ice grew straight into his heart.

“You bitch” the magistrate spluttered his last words then went limp.

“That was a terrible song,” Raelynn turned towards him leaving the sword in her captor’s chest.

“Thanks, I thought you’d like it.” Slackstar grumbled, returning the lute to his back.

“I mean, ‘what an ordeal’? What were you thinking?” she winked at him.

“It’s been a long day, and I needed something to rhyme with ‘steal’.” He glared at her mockingly.  “And I’d like to see you do better!”

She laughed and spread her arms wide, after a deep breath she exhaled hard, as though relieving herself of a great burden.  The entire courtyard filled with steam, the air was warm and wet again.  After the cool winter-like evening it felt like stepping into a kettle of boiling water.  “Where to next?” she asked when she finally opened her eyes.

“Are we done with this town?” he asked, hope bleeding into his voice.

“I think that would be best, don’t you?” she glanced around at the steaming carnage.  “I would like to stick to the coast for a while though.  I like the humid air, it’s a nice change from the dry desert.” She smiled at him and nodded towards the entrance.

Tales of McVurdy: Better Days

Shem crept through the tall grass encircling the army encampment. The light from campfires danced across the field, casting shadows before him.  He kept low under the starlit sky, his eyes were the only break in the black clothing he wore from head to toe.  He could just make out the drunken rambling and shouting of soldiers on the eve of battle.  They beat their chests and joked bawdily.  They felt assured of their victory, so much so they had to repeat their convictions aloud.

He watched as a lone soldier stumbled away from camp.  Shem stalked him, keeping his distance so as to not be seen.  Years of training in The Order had made this second nature to him.  He glided silently through the grass, keeping a safe distance but totally outside of the soldier’s notice.  He was about Shem’s height and build, his uniform was worn and neglected, meaning he took no pride in his enlistment.  He’d probably been compelled into fighting and would not be missed.  The soldier swayed drunkenly as he fumbled at the tie on his trousers, his shadow swung back and forth across the trees and danced in the flickering firelight.  Shem grabbed a stone and tossed it with a practiced arm, placing the soldier between himself and the thud and tumble in the bushes.

“Who’s tha’?” the soldier slurred, and rocked as he drunkenly looking away from Shem, “‘is that you J-” Shem’s knife interrupted the question when he sheathed it in the soldier’s brain through the base of his skull.  Quickly Shem shoved the soldier down and stripped him of his clothes, careful to keep the fresh blood from staining the uniform too heavily.  He doubted anyone would notice, the uniform was even filthier than Shem had first realized in the dim light. It was stained with countless, bodily fluids from any number of sources.  He pushed the thoughts from his head as he pulled the clothes on over his own.  He dragged the corpse into some bushes and piled a few loose branches on it.  It was unlikely he’d be found before morning, and by then he’d be long gone.  He pulled down his hood and tucked it into the shirt behind himself and quickly inspected his disguise.

When he was satisfied he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  His mind emptied and his thoughts fled with practiced ease, hours spent meditating had made this second nature to him.  Drunk.  He thought the simple word to himself and he began to sway on his feet, felt his face flush, and posture slacken.  Wandering back to where the soldier had come from would be too dangerous, someone might recognize his uniform, and become suspicious about the whereabouts of their friend.  If he wandered into the revelry from a different angle, people would simply assume he was a lost soldier from another part of the camp.  He began to stumble into the field, blazing a meandering trail back towards a different part of the camp than his dead soldier had originated.

He scanned the camp before him, and counted three different banners flying over groups of campfires.  He flicked open a pouch in his left sleeve and dropped three beans from it to the ground, tying it shut again with practiced ease.  He continued his oblique trek towards the camp, edging nearer the firelight, until someone called out at him.

“Hey!  You lost?”  Shem could make out the stifled chuckles from his friends.

“Huh?”  Shem called back, making a show of looking for the source of the voice in an exaggerated appearance of night blindness.  “That you Jem?”  He slurred the words and swung his head around, stumbling backwards.  Laughter now from the campfire.  He spotted another new flag, one he hadn’t seen before, and dropped another bean.

“Come here!” one of the men at the fire was running towards him, and grabbing his arm gently, leading him to the fire.  “Sit and drink!”  Shem nodded as if this was the most reasonable plan in the world.

“Name’s Shem,” he hiccuped at the group.

“Nice to meet ya, Shem.” his host replied.  He was clearly an officer, albeit a low ranking one.   His uniform was well cared for and decorated.  He even looked cleaner and better kempt than his companions.  He sat slightly apart from the group as though he had already been promoted, at least in his head.  “I’m Jek, and these dirtbags are Slacks and Trast.”  The latter two soldiers were more like his victim in the field, dirty and disheveled.  Street urchins compelled into military service.  Perhaps they enjoyed it, but they took no pride in their campaign. Shem nodded at each name, his whole body rocked with the motion like sloppy bows.

They chuckled, “What unit you from?”

Shem shrugged, “I’m just here for the booze.” They laughed even louder, slapping their knees.  Shem looked around at the group grinning stupidly.  “You know there’s a war on?”

“No shit!” uproarious laughter, Jek slapped him on the back.  “You work that out all on yer own?”

Shem gave him a proud smile.  “We gonna win, ain't we?”

“Here, here!” Slacks held up his mug, the rest of the party echoed the cheer.

“I mean-” Shem gulped down his drink, “they’ll see us riding up on the city tomorrow and, they’ll shit their pants!”

“Ha!” Trast chuckled, “they won’t see us coming at all!  Not with their city burning down from the inside!”  The three grunted wordlessly, and beat their chests.

“I’m glad they didn’t make me go on that suicide mission” Trast volunteered when the burst of revelry had died down.  “You remember when we marched on Shin’Don?” Nobody responded, Trast had taken a solemn and sobering look, the rest of the group sat quietly, letting him tell the story. Shin’Don, This was news to Shem, communication with his brethren their were limited with all the patrols on the roads between.  “My pal, Jeon was in the infiltration team…”  Trast gulped from his cup.  “He barely escaped with his life.  They set the fires like they was supposed to but they got nabbed on their way back to the sewers.”  He stared quietly into the fire for a long moment, and nobody said a word.

“They was tied up in some underground cellar.  Dank and dirty, uncivilized like.  He says at first they just hung from the ceilings, whipping them and asking questions.  Then those freaks in all black clothes showed up.  Stuff they done was unnatural.”  He took a shuddering breath, “Kept for weeks, strapped on their backs with water dripping on the foreheads.  They couldn’t drink it, and it kept them from sleeping.  They shoved bamboo under their fingernails.”  Trast looked up at the group.  “Other, even worse, unspeakable things.  He ain't been the same since.”

The silence stretched into minutes.  The roar and laughter from other campfires drifted over to them, but Shem could clearly hear the crackle and pop of of their own fire.  He knew if this Jeon had escaped at all, it was because The Order leadership in Shin’Don had wanted him to.  They probably wanted him to spread his fearful tales throughout the army.

Shem abruptly stood, all eyes turned to him quizzically, and he swayed on his feet momentarily.  “I-” he shook his head, making it look like he was clearing his head as he tried to come up with an excuse to continue his patrol, “I just remembered, my commander said he had a special assignment for me tomorrow-“

They laughed, “That’s tomorrow you blockhead!  Sit!  Drink!  It’s not like you’re on the infiltration team.  They only send The Warrior Priest to do those now.”  he leaned towards the fire again, a mischievous glint in his eye.  “They say he’s died a thousand times, and been fightin’ this war since it started five hundred years ago!”  Shem’s breath caught in his throat.  He whispered a silent and ancient prayer of protection under his breath.  If the Crimson Blade was among this army his reconnaissance mission had just become more urgent.

Shem shook his head and laughed.  “Well, I at least need to take a leak.”  he announced to nobody in particular and then stumbled away from the camp walking further than necessary in a wandering path so they wouldn’t be concerned when he didn’t return.  He made a show of standing in the field a minute, facing away from the fire, and pretending to piss on the ground while he considered what he’d learned.  This might not be any army from the west, this might be The Army. He needed to finish his reconnaissance and confirm his suspicions.

Shem continued on a circuit around the camp, dropping beans every time he saw a new banner, casually fending off advances from other drunken revelers.  Halfway around the circle he stopped and his blood ran cold.  He hadn’t really believed it when Jek said it, but now he saw with his own eyes.  The white flag with the red dagger and an emblazoned golden “M”.  The flag of The Warrior Priest.  Shem hastened his patrol, but decided not to venture into the camp again.  It was said when in the presence of the warrior priest an enemies disguise would fall off, or he would simply trip and fall onto his own knife.  Freak accidents seemed to favor the priest.  Shem didn’t believe in superstitions, but he didn’t feel like putting his convictions to the test.  He needed to return to the temple as soon as possible.

When he’d finished his circle of the camp he quickly doffed his disguise and dove into the bushes fleeing from the army as quickly as he could while remaining reasonably hidden.  When he’d passed the outer circle of patrols he opened his left sleeve and counted the beans remaining, there were only three left, meaning forty-seven houses in this army.  Each house brought between two and three thousand men.  This meant three to one odds for Shem’s people.  Those were despairingly steep odds.

He sprinted silently towards the city walls on bare feet.  His pulse thudded in his ears, he needed to alert the elders, they must begin the evacuation tonight, now!  There was a small grove up against the walls on the south side of the city where an unused sewage tunnel let out, it was his favorite covert path in and out of the city.  His heart was racing, and this close to the city he abandoned all stealth in favor of haste.  He openly sprinted through the bushes, and could just see the small pile of rocks indicating the exit when his foot caught on a branch and he fell face first.

He must have hit his head on a rock and lost consciousness because the next thing he knew he was on his back and the tip of a sword was pressing down on his throat.  He looked up at the blurry figure before him.  He squinted and blinked his eyes, trying to bring the shifting colors into focus and when they did he realized he was beneath an old man in strange robes.  They shifted colors even in the dark, continuously shimmering and swimming before him, they seemed to draw Shem’s eyes to the old man’s hip where he found a sheathed red dagger with a single gold wrought letter on the side.

“Hi,” the man above him said congenially.  “I’m McVurdy, priest of The Lord of Chaos, Maelstrom. You might know me better as The Warrior Priest, The Lord Catalyst, The Crimson Blade, and a few others I can’t think of.  ...and you are?”

“Shem” he choked out.

“Shem,”  The old man stopped and considered Shem for a moment.  “Shem, I’m afraid you’re going to die today.  Right now, actually.  I just don’t have time or the patience for prisoners, and if I tie you up out here, you look like the kind of guy who’d find your way out with ease.  It’s nothing personal, just bad timing really, and I don’t trust you.”

Shem stared up at the priest, speechless.  He should stand his ground and insult him, he should beg for his life.  He should fight back, but he couldn’t.  His body wouldn’t respond.

“I’m glad you understand.  Good bye now.”

There was pain and then the world went black.

Unsolicited

The text message simply said “very clever’.  Jim frowned at the scuffed up phone screen trying to make out the phone number.  ‘Unknown’ it said.  Helpful, he thought as he rolled his eyes probably some spammer and he put the phone back in his pocket..   He returned his attention to the meeting, although he hadn’t missed anything.  Somebody with a thick accent was monologuing on the conference phone, reading line for line from his PowerPoint which was being projected against the wall at the far end of the room.

“...team would take over issues at the beginning of their work day...”

Ten of Jim’s teammates sat around the grey table under beige walls staring at their laptops, not even pretending to pay attention to the presenter but instead trying to get ahead of schedule on their assigned tasks.  Jim looked at his laptop, changed windows and pressed “Send/Receive” in Outlook hoping for any external stimulation but no new emails came in.

“...an hour or two of overlap is essential, this enables hand off of any issues…”

With a sigh Jim opened Facebook, scrolling through his feed, not really seeing anything for a few minutes then closed the tab.  He glanced up at the presentation, trying to pretend he was paying attention, his gaze snagged on Tina who rolled her eyes and smirked at Jim.  Jim shut his eyes and dropped his head a few inches, miming falling asleep, but quickly so no one else would notice.  When he opened his eyes again Tina was smiling and shaking her head before straightening up in her chair and returning her attention to her laptop.

Jim looked back up at the PowerPoint presentation.  The slide had changed and been replaced by a flow diagram of some sort.  There were boxes representing his team and their overseas equivalents.  Lines connected the boxes into a circle which surrounded a cloud.  The wall beneath the projected cloud was marked up by dry-erase marker.  Some moron who had used the room before them had decided the thirty by five foot whiteboard on the side of the room wasn’t good enough and written on the wall.  The marking was illegible, it looked like someone had spent some time trying to clean it before giving up.  By this time next week the wall would be repainted.

“... are there any questions?”

The ever anticipated keywords indicated they were nearing the end of the presentation.  Jim’s eyes snapped back to attention and refocused on the slide.  It had one word on it, the letters were a foot tall.  Jim held his breath, hoping nobody would have any questions and they could get out of the meeting 15 minutes early and head to lunch.

“Yeah,” Rick, his boss leaned forward, speaking into the conference phone in the center of the table.  A totally unnecessary effort since one of the many peripheral microphones was clearly six inches from his face.

“I was wondering if you could elaborate on…”  Jim leaned back in his chair stretching his arms up over his head.  His spine cracked in a few places and he grunted, stifling an exasperated groan.  The presenter responded to his question, then there were follow up clarifications.  When the follow up queries were exhausted he asked again if there were questions.  We could get out seven minutes early now, Jim thought… but someone else had a question.  This pattern repeated itself until there were two minutes left and everyone magically ran out of questions or maybe they all just stopped caring.

“Well…” the voice paused dramatically, giving everyone last chance to delay their lunch break, “if you have any other questions feel free to email or message me.  I’m online late most nights and I know this is a big change, so don’t hesitate to ask questions.”  Jim felt himself holding his breath again, the speaker paused again.  “Thanks for your time, have a great day!”

There were mutters of agreement and reciprocation all throughout the room, Rick stood and leaned over the conference phone, his finger on the ‘hang up’ button, he practically shouted into the phone.  “Thanks for the presentation, Igor!  It was very enlightening, we’ll be in touch”.

There was a click and the lights on the phone went off.  An audible, collective sigh of release filled the room.  Tina chuckled, “So it took him an hour to say ‘make sure you get a status update from Europe when you start in the morning.”  Jim rolled his eyes and shrugged.

Rick shook his head, “it’s important that we are all on the same page and don’t drop customer issues.”

“Is he expecting us to have an hour long sync meeting every morning?” Jim groaned.  Luckily nobody heard him over the shuffling of feet, laptops, and coats as everyone hurried towards the doorway trying their best to not look like they were hurrying.

Jim hung back avoiding the bustle so he was one of the last to leave the conference room. The air in the hallway felt cool and fresh after the stuffy conference room he breathed in cleansing the musty smell of his coworkers from his head.

“Hey” came a voice from behind him.  He turned and saw Tina had been waiting for him.  Tina was pretty although Jim had never seen her as anything other than a friend.  She was a good foot shorter than him and naturally brunette but he only knew that because he could see her roots.  Every week her hair was a different color this week it was neon blue.

“You have plans for lunch today?”  She fell in beside him and they followed the rest of the horde back towards their desks.

“Not really, you wanna grab a bite in the cafe’?” Jim hoisted his laptop under his arm, dragging his feet and lengthening the distance between him and his coworkers.

“Nah, let’s head off campus today, what about that deli?  The one attached to the butcher?”

“Sure,” Jim shrugged, “I need to drop off my laptop” he lifted it slightly then gestured towards it with his head, “then we can head out, cool?”

“Cool, I’ll just meet you there.”

Jim’s cubicle was a mess.  Post-It notes were attached to nearly every vertical surface, and then knickknacks and notepads were strewn on virtually every horizontal surface.  No trash, Jim was messy but definitely not a slob.  He walked the single pace to the back of his tiny cloth lined cell and set his laptop down, attaching the cable lock and power adapter.  He turned to leave but something caught his eye.  Sitting in the corner of his cubicle nearest the entrance, hidden from view unless you were inside looking out was a doll of some kind.

Jim squinted quizzically at the doll and leaned over to grab it.  He didn’t know anything about dolls but he knew it wasn’t Barbie, it looked far too much like an actual human.  It was definitely made in the likeness of an adult.  He lifted it up and found a note was pinned to the back.  It read “but I found you anyway”

Car Crash

Naomi sat in the seat, staring into space, while the kids charged around above her, yelling at the tops of their voices.  Something about this situation was odd, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.  Her thoughts came slowly and through a haze.  She didn’t know any kids, much less have any of her own.  That wasn’t it.  Something else was odd.  Why were they above her?

She opened her eyes and looked around the car her head throbbed and spun simultaneously, her stomach heaved in protest as she slowly turned her head. Every puke green surface was either sticky from some forgotten spill or dusty from long neglect.  The seats were empty except for a pile of old fast food wrappers stuffed into bags in front of the passenger’s seat.  The car rocked up and down as the children jumped and shrieked above her.

“Hey, knock it off!” she pounded with her fist on the roof of the car.  Her head seared anew in objection.  She rubbed her eyes and glanced through her windows, trying to remember where she was.  She was in a ditch on some back country road, identical to any number of roads in the Great American Wilderness.  Cloud white steam was pouring out of the front of her car, and she didn’t need to be a mechanic to see why, her hood was wrapped around the trunk of an ancient tree.

She pushed herself up and out of her seat, the door groaned tiredly into the quiet as she flopped her feet to the ground.  She must have dozed off while driving.  She stopped and listened, silence washed over here and pressed into her skull, she couldn’t decide if it helped the headache or worsened it.  She hesitated, then pushed herself to a stand, where had those kids gone?

She spun around and squinted against the bright sunlight.  There was nothing on the roof of her car.  Not even footprints, the layer of dust seemed completely undisturbed.  She looked around, maybe they’d gotten down?  But all she could see in any direction was wide empty fields.  She looked up and down the road, there was nothing, not even a bush.  She’d certainly picked a great place to fall asleep, her tree was the only one for miles.  Just a few more feet and instead of a tree she would have knocked over some wire fence.

Cursing, Naomi reached into her pocket and pulled out a cigarette.  She lit it and inspected her head in the side mirror.  She had a few scratches on her cheek and possibly a bruise below her eye.  There was blood running down the side of her head matted in her hair.  She probably had a concussion.  She groaned and sucked hard on the cigarette as she flopped back into a lean against the car door pulling out her phone.  No service.  Great.

She shoved the phone back into her purse as a crow landed on the road opposite her.  “You wouldn’t happen to have a phone, would you?” she asked it mockingly.  The crow cocked it’s head at her quizzically.  “Or know where those kids went, the ones that were just on my roof a minute ago?”  The crow took two hops towards her, watching her intently.  She squinted back at the crow, sucking hard on her cigarette again, the crow’s eyes fixed intently on hers the whole time.

“Don’t you have something better to do?  Like eating, or fucking, or something?”

“Caw!” the crow barked at her, Naomi stifled a jump then laughed at herself.

“Could you at least go get some help?” she spat back at the crow, then flicked her still smoking butt in it’s direction.

The crow watched impassively as the flaming projectile went wide, then returned its stare to her a moment longer before taking flight.  Naomi watched as it disappeared into the distance, envying the ease and speed with which the bird could go anywhere it liked.  As simple as stepping out the front door, left foot then right, and repeat a few hundred thousand times.

Naomi walked around to the trunk.  She didn’t need a key and there was no latch.  The trick was to hit it with your fist in just the right place...  It took two or three tries but she got it, the trunk clicked, notifying her of her success.  She lifted it above her head, the worthless hydraulic lifts wheezed. She rammed an old closet rod in to wedge it open and inspected her meager possessions.

Nothing was damaged.  She pulled out a bottle of water and guzzled it greedily, tossing aside an old box of flares with her other hand trying to find that box of meal bars she’d stashed in here last week.  She found the box but it was empty.  With a string of curses she tossed the box back into the trunk and repacked her bag.  She quickly went through the car, making sure she wouldn’t leave anything she might miss.  She didn’t bother to lock it up, or ever close the doors, she just started walking.

/r/WritingPrompts: James' Ants

It was 8PM and James sat in the park chewing his sub sandwich like he did every night.  He crumpled up the extra cookie he’d brought, allowing the crumbs to land on the ground in front of  him.  He listened to the sounds of kids playing in the distance while he watched the ants feast on their bounty.  He smiled sadly down at the ants.  “I wish my boss was as understanding as yours.  Even if she is a bit of a slave driver, at least she attends to all your needs.”  He took another bite of his sandwich and decided he had no appetite left.  He tossed the sandwich on the ground for the ants to have.  Some days it seemed his best friends were the ants and the in the park.  “Your contributions will not be forgotten” he muttered to himself. He guffawed at the irony.  Of course his credit stealing boss would say that.

He pushed his earbuds in and started poking at his smartphone, pulling up the day’s news.  “...nuclear plant had a close call today.  Officials are withholding exact details about the incident but it is clear that just after 3 PM Eastern today the plant evacuated all personnel and instituted a one mile quarantine around the reactor in question only allowing NRC officials in or around the plant.  We’ve been assured there will be no lasting danger…”  James stopped listening letting the sound of the voice wash over him as he stood and began walking home.  Was this all there was to his life?  Wake up in the morning, work twelve hours doing everyone else’s job eating a sandwich in the park with the ants then going home?  He certainly hoped not.

With a sigh he unlocked his door to his apartment and reached inside to flip the light switch.  He stopped when he felt something crunch under his foot.  It was a cookie, wrapped in deli paper, just like the ones that came with his sandwiches.  He frowned, reached down and picked it up turning over the pieces in his hand.  He shrugged.  Perhaps he’d have it with his lunch tomorrow.

James slowly began his evening routine, brushing his teeth, eyes bleary and tired.  He startled awake once or twice while still on his feet, finally he gave up on the routine and just went to sleep.  Tomorrow promised to be just as terrible and exhausting of a day as today was.  “Your contributions won’t be forgotten” he repeated mockingly then fell asleep.

James awoke at 6AM and went about his routine with a certain reluctance.  Today he had to present the department’s accomplishments to his boss.  His boss would congratulate him, pat him on the back and then present it to his own superiors, taking credit for both the presentation and the accomplishments.  He ate breakfast unenthusiastically, staring unseeing at the news on his phone.  More about the nuclear incident yesterday, some other news about strange behavior around town.  It seemed there was nothing like a close call with a nuclear plant to bring out the crazies.  More reassurances from people whose names James didn’t recognize, that there was nothing to worry about.

James cleaned up after his breakfast then put on his shoes and coat to leave. He opened the door and stopped short again.  There was a cylindrical paper package on his doormat.  That was odd.  He leaned out the door to pick it up, looking up and down the hall but nobody was there.  He picked up the package and realized it was a deli sandwich.  He began to unwrap the paper and noticed a large note scrawled on a napkin, perhaps in crayon?  It said “THNK YU”.  That was odd.  Who were these gifts from?

James walked to work, listening to music on his earbuds the whole way.  He tried to smile at people as he passed, feigning a skip in his step.  He hoped he could trick his subconscious into being cheerful.  It didn’t work.  The streets seemed emptier than usual and everyone he smiled at seemed jumpy or upset.  He got more than a few indignant glares.  When he got to the office he gave up on being cheery and nodded to the security guard as swiped his badge.  The guard indifferently wished him a good day and James navigated the corridors, heading directly to his desk.

He passed his bosses desk, still empty, no coat hanging on the hook and the laptop bag that usually occupied his chair was still missing.  As usual James was here before everyone, even his supposed leadership.  He smirked mirthlessly before rounding the corner to his own desk.

James worked all morning, polishing his presentation and catching up on e-mail from the night before.  He ate the sandwich and cookie for lunch, they were both exactly the way he liked them.  Somebody who knew him well had to have dropped it off, but who?  At 2PM he went searching for his boss, it was time for the presentation.  He swung by the desk and noticed the coat and laptop bag were still missing.  “That’s odd…” he said to himself.  He peaked around the corner at his neighbor, “Have you seen Bill today?”  The woman barely looked up from her keyboard and shook her head.  She mumbled something through a mouthful of food that sounded something like, “no I haven’t”.  James shrugged and went back to his desk.  He spent the rest of the day catching up on work he’d fallen behind on.  Without Bill present he ended up having the most productive day he’d had in awhile.

6PM crept up on him and he decided to call it a day early, he grabbed his usual from the deli down the street and stopped in the park.  The sun was still out and he could hear the kids screaming and playing.  It was nice to head home when the world was still alive and awake.  He crumpled up a cookie for the ants and dug into his sandwich with a smile.  He was halfway through his sandwich before he realized they were gone.  No ants had come to claim his cookie.  Not even one scout.  He knew their hill was near here somewhere so he started looking around.  He saw a patch of dirt behind the bench that had been ripped up nearby, as though some construction workers had been replacing a line.  Maybe the anthill had been there and had been destroyed by the work?

James eyed the cookie on the ground sadly before finishing his sandwich.  Perhaps they were reestablishing somewhere else.  He finished his meal quickly then headed home.  Plugging in his earbuds again, he pulled up some local news.  The news caster was frantic, he could barely make out what she was saying, something about mutant ants?  Ravaging the city, killing, burning?  He looked up and around him, it must be a hoax.  He was pretty sure he would have noticed something like that, but the street did seem oddly quiet.  He shrugged and kept listening.  She continued to give a shrieking account of horror and destruction he laughed at how cheesy it was.  It sounded like a terrible attempt at an Orson Wells type broadcast.

Then as happens when you’re watching a horror movie he started to get jumpy.  The horrific accounts of violence seemed to be moving through the city and the pattern eerily reflected his own, as though the someone were clearing the way to his home.  This street was too quiet, where had everyone gone?  What was going on?  He turned up the alley to his apartment hurrying up the stairs.  Why hurry?  he chided himself.  He got to the top of the stairs and swore he saw something scurry around the corner at the end of the hall.  He shivered and tried to snap himself out of it.

James stuck the key in his door and shoved open the door.  He was almost hyperventilating.  He needed to take a breath and calm down!  He shut the door behind him a little harder than usual then flipped on the light.  He stopped and stared in horror at what was sitting on his table.  His boss’s severed head was upright on a plate staring right at him.  A look of terror frozen forever on the features of his face.  James crept closer even though he knew he should run.  He could see a piece of paper with beautiful red writing on it.  When finally he got close enough to read it he saw the words written carefully and clearly in blood “Your contributions will not be forgotten.”

Originally written for: https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/46jil3/wp_you_like_to_leave_gifts_for_an_ant_colony_like/