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Journey to the Giggling Glade, or, Adventures of a Cottagecore NB Who Works in a Cafe (6k Words)

Roman heads to a magical forest to gather some plants for their boss, Clara. But things don’t go as planned when Roman stumbles upon a mysterious figure outside the forest. (originally written August 2021)

“Roman!”

Roman darted past a server, nearly sending the plate of roast beef and vegetables crashing to the floor. They scurried past a chef leaning over a saucepan, disrupting his chanting and making him drop a half conjured tomato into the pan, it immediately began to sizzle. They ran through a large cloud of steam, taking in the rich smell of the sauce that was boiling just next to them. Finally, they got to the other side of the kitchen. Clara was standing there, her arms folded. Despite her mean demeanor, she was beaming, as always.

“Yes, Miss Clara?” panted Roman.

“I need you for an errand, dearie. I’ve just run out of spitebark root. Could you go out and get some for me, please?”

“Of course, Miss Clara,” said Roman, “Which store is that from again?”

Clara chuckled heartily, “Oh, dearie. It’s not from any store. You need to go out to the Giggling Glade.”

Roman’s face dropped, they couldn’t go out to the Glade!

“I can’t go out to the Glade!” they said.

“Why of course you can, dearie. Come with me!”

Clara shuffled out of the bustling kitchen and into her private office. Roman had only been in there once before, when they first applied to work at Clara’s. Clara walked over to the side of the room, where a small table with two built-in hobs lay. The stove clicked as Clara set the temperature, before it finally ignited with flames. She grabbed a frying pan and placed it over the fire, then she began to cast into the pan.

She placed her hand calmly in the centre of the pan, the roaring fire beneath not seeming to bother her at all. Granny hands, figured Roman, they were fireproof. She closed her eyes and exhaled, oil began to pool at her fingertips. The oil spread out until a thin layer covered the whole pan. As the oil began to boil, Clara clapped her hands together and separated them, between her palms appeared a rolled up piece of thin, edible wrapper with what looked to be chocolate inside. She placed the creation into the pan.

“These are ji-ai,” she said while summoning another into her hands and laying it beside the first, “a recipe from Western Piasohn. That’s not the important thing, though.” she waggled a third ji-ai at Roman, “I’m enchanting these. If you get injured, eat one and it will help. I’ll make you three, that should be plenty.”

Clara turned from the three ji-ais in the pan. The smell of melting chocolate danced its way over to Roman and up their nose. The rich sweetness reminded them of a recipe their father used to make. Clara took a small bowl, placed her hand into it and concentrated again. Instead of filling with oil, the bowl began to fill with a golden sugar.

“Now, spitebark is a funny little plant. They’re named spitebarks because they hate growing near each other. In fact, they hate each other so much that the flowers face in the complete opposite direction to the nearest other plant. That means you can always find them in pairs! I only need two as well, so you shouldn’t need to look for long - one will be for planting and the other will be for experimenting as soon as you get back.”

Clara turned back to the pan, the ji-ais were nicely browning. She flipped them over in the oil and walked over to a bookshelf. She grabbed a book and flicked through it before finding the right page.

“These are spitebarks,” she said, pointing to a drawing of a long, thin, brown plant. It looked like a twig from a tree had been planted in the ground. Clara moved her finger down the illustration, stopping at the large root at the bottom, “This is what I need, you can cut the rest of the plant off when you find it.”

Clara reached into the pan and took out the first ji-ai, she rolled it around in the sugar until it was lightly coated, then she placed it onto a white napkin. She did this with the other two before wrapping them up. She then placed the napkin into a small pouch and handed it to Roman, who tied it to their belt.

“Here you go, dearie! Now, you know how to get to the Glade, don’t you?”

Of course they knew how to get to the Glade, they’d been told their whole life to stay as far away from it as possible. And they had.

Now, Roman stood before the Forest of Fables (which the Glade lay within). Clara had walked with them out of New Elmus but they had been on their own since leaving the city limits. Now all they had to do was find the Glade. It shouldn’t be hard, right? They just had to start walking and they’d stumble upon it eventually. That was the magic of the Glade - all it took was one step. But Roman had never been to the Glade before, they had no idea what lay within it. Their mother had told them time and time again to never go in but she never said why. Roman had no idea what to expect once they were inside.

The wind whistling through the trees pulled Roman out of their thoughts and back into the real world. They had been standing at the edge of the forest for some ten minutes now, debating whether to enter or not. Clara would be furious if they came back empty handed. Roman had never seen Clara mad before, even the thought of it was breaking their heart. They had to get the spitebark. They just had to take that first step…

“Oi!”

It was a voice from behind, Roman spun. Before them stood a tall, lean man with curly, blonde hair. He had his arms crossed and Roman imagined that if he were nearer the forest he would’ve been casually leaning against a tree. His smirk was that of a man who had many secrets, some his own and some belonging to others. He began to approach Roman, walking with a swagger that they were completely expecting, yet was still impressed by. As he got closer, Roman noticed his stark, emerald eyes.

He spoke again, “What’s someone like you doing out here? Didn’t your parents tell you that you shouldn’t go near the Forest of Fables?”

“I’m not a kid.” said Roman, bluntly, “Who are you, anyways?”

The man scoffed, “Haven’t you heard of me?” Roman genuinely hadn’t. The man paused for a second, expecting an answer, but continued once he realised he wouldn’t get one, “The name’s Bailey. Bailey Giload: mercenary for hire.”

“So, what, you’re out here to kill something?”

“Not today, my friend.” Bailey placed an arm over Roman. They flinched, but settled quickly, “Work’s been slow this week so I’ve had to expand my reach. I’m going shopping.”

Roman muttered, “Wait...” under their breath.

Bailey continued, “I’ve been sent out here by Fergus Ford of the Magnificent Beast Bakery. He told me to get him some spitebark root.” So many thoughts were flying through Roman’s head that they couldn’t get anything out before Bailey started speaking again, “But enough about me. You never answered my question; what are you doing in the Forest of Fables?”

In? thought Roman. Then they looked around. Since when had they started walking? Something about Bailey’s confidence had seeped into Roman, singel handedly slaying any intimidation they felt. From the forest, at least.

“I was… just… coming here to see what it’s like. Yeah. I thought maybe I could face my fears and finally try and go to the Glade.”

“You’re going to the Glade?” asked Bailey.

“Yup.”

“Maybe I could help you out? I feel like I’m a tad more prepared than you are.” Bailey looked Roman up and down, then smirked.

Roman looked down at themselves, they were still mostly wearing the uniform from Clara’s. Then they looked at Bailey, he sported light armour that allowed for significantly more flexibility than the shirt and trousers that Roman wore. There was also a cutlass sheathed at his waist, which Roman imagined Bailey would whip out at any sign of danger, ready to protect them from whatever lay ahead. Then, after the monster was defeated, Bailey would look over to Roman and-

“Stop.” whispered Bailey.

Roman froze in place and turned to Bailey. They whispered back, “What is it?”

Bailey pointed deeper into the woods. Roman looked past the thick, mossy trees nearby, but they couldn’t spot what he was pointing at. Then, suddenly, something darted between two trees. Roman didn’t catch what it was.

“Just stay calm.”

It jumped again, this time Roman saw it. The creature was lanky and covered in dark fur. Something shone from it as it moved. A weapon, maybe. It was hard to see any details from that distance. The creature continued to leap between the trees, slowly making its way over Roman and Bailey’s heads.

Once it had left their sight, Roman asked, “What was that thing?”

“You’ve never seen an eavener before?”

“That’s an eavener?”

“Please don’t tell me you’ve only ever seen them in those Jaz Carpenter books?”

Roman paused, then looked down at their feet. Bailey struggled to stifle a laugh.

Bailey continued, smirking and shaking his head, “You’re really not fit for being out here. Maybe you should turn back.”

“No,” said Roman. Bailey looked up, taken aback by their bluntness. “I have to get to the Glade.”

“Alright, fine. But don’t go hurting yourself.”

The two continued walking, only stopping for Bailey to take a drink from a pouch he had strapped to the side of his backpack. Roman sat on a tree stump opposite him. The smells of the forest were pungent now: wet dirt, wet bark and flowers that Roman couldn’t identify.

Bailey looked over, “I haven’t seen you drink anything this whole journey, why?”

“I didn’t bring water.”

Bailey’s eyes widened this time. They lowered the bottle from their mouth, “Oh my God, Roman,” suddenly Bailey’s whole demeanor changed, the once cocky persona melted away to reveal caring eyes and genuine worry. Bailey handed his pouch to Roman, “Here, take it. Finish it for all I care. Once we get back out of here I’m gonna teach you everything. I can tell you want to be out here adventuring but you’re clearly not prepared for it. Would that be alright?”

Roman put the pouch to their mouth. They didn’t drink enough to finish it, but it was still a significant swig. “Thank you,” they said.

“Cool,” said Bailey, “It’s a date.”

Roman nearly spat the water from their mouth, then they swallowed, “A date?”

“I mean,” Bailey perched on the stump next to Roman, “If you want to call it that.”

He reached out for Roman’s hand. A heat rose within Roman, like coal being furiously shoveled into a furnace.

“I’d love to,” the hearth of their heart was erupting now. No one had ever seen them in this way before, and Roman had never seen anyone the way they were seeing Bailey right now.

Bailey closed his eyes and lent forward, Roman quickly caught on and followed suit. When their lips locked it was like nothing Roman had ever felt before.

Then there was a thud and the sound of leaves rustling. Bailey let out a cry, nearly biting Roman’s lip. Roman’s eyes snapped open, they were still face-to-face with Bailey, but behind him stood the eavener. It loomed over Bailey, its long body taking it to nearly six foot when it stood on its hind legs. Its head was like that of a weasel. Roman bolted up from the stump and began to back away from the beast.

“Please, stay back,” they said.

The eavener jumped from the stump, tearing its arms out of Bailey’s back. Roman saw that it had a piece of sharp flint in each hand. They were covered in blood now. Bailey’s blood.

It began to speak in a low whisper, “Get out of here while you can. And do not associate yourself with this human.” Then it leaped high into a nearby tree and scampered up it.

“Bailey!” called Roman, running over to him. Bailey had fallen back after the eavener had jumped off of him and now he lay slumped over the stump he sat on.

His voice was frail, “Get out, Roman.... Save yourself.”

“No!” said Roman, “I can save you.” Roman untied the pouch from their waist and pulled out a ji-ai, “Here, take this.”

They fed Bailey the healing pastry, desperately hoping it would cure him like Clara said it should. But what if the wound was too large? Or what if the eavener had some sort of magical poison that gourmantic food couldn’t heal?

“Thank you,” said Bailey, “But why?” Then, his eyes widened and his face beamed with realisation.

“See?” said Roman, “Maybe I’m not all that useless after all.”

“No,” he said, colour already beginning to flood back into his face, “Saving me once doesn’t excuse forgetting to bring water.”

“Okay, fair,” said Roman, smirking.

The two sat there for a moment, Bailey still lying down on the stump and Roman sitting up next to him. They stared into each other’s eyes, living the moment.

Bailey broke the silence, “So… are you going to tell me where you got those from? You don’t seem like you’d be prepared or experienced enough to bring something like that.”

Busted, thought Roman. They sighed, “Fine. I’m here to get spitebark root too. I’m here for Clara.”

Bailey sat up, “What?”

“Look-”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“It just never c-”

Bailey jumped up from the log, “We kissed! You should’ve said before that!”

“It never came up!”

“It shouldn’t need to come up!”

Roman looked away, “Look, okay,” they said, “You’re not perfect either!”

“What do you mean?”

“The eavener told me. It said, ‘do not associate with this man.’ There’s something up with you, too.”

“Wait, when did it say that?”

“Right after it stabbed you! You were probably too busy wailing to hear.”

“Oh c’mon! Now you’re picking on me for screaming in pain after I got stabbed!”

Roman paused, “No. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.” Bailey smiled weakly.

Roman couldn’t help but beam back at him, “God damn it. You’re too cute for your own good!”

“No more secrets?”

“No more secrets.”

“Great!” Bailey spun around, before pointing in the direction they had been heading before, “Then let us continue.”

“Alright,” said Roman, following Bailey, “But you said it yourself, ‘No more secrets.’ So you’ve got to tell me, what did the eavener mean?”

Bailey huffed, “Fine.” He looked thoughtful for a second, probably thinking through what he was going to say. “The eavener’s don’t like me because of an old job I had. I can’t tell you who it was for - client confidentiality and all that - but suffice it to say they were powerful and rich. This was back when I had a party, there were four of us. I don’t really want to talk about them though. Anyway, we were asked by this client to go to the Forest of Fables and find the eaveners’ hideout, so that the client could bring in their army to eradicate them.”

“An army?” asked Roman, “Who was this guy, the king?”

Bailey glanced at Roman, his face blank, innocent.

“Oh.” said Roman, they looked down at their feet “Right.”

“Yeah,” continued Bailey, “After we arrived in the Glade it didn’t take long to find the eavener huts. You know how this place works. You’ll find what you’re looking for. They build their houses in the treetops, y’know? Put leaves underneath them to camouflage with the canopy. We only noticed them after a bird flew overhead and made…” Bailey mumbled a name, “-look up.” He took a long breath, Roman wrapped their arm over his shoulder. “We joked that we might have already walked past them and that the Forest was desperately trying to get us to find what we were looking for.” Bailey chuckled, and tears welled up in his eyes. He sniffed, “It didn’t go well, Roman. We were ambushed. I was the only one who made it out. And now the King thinks we’re all dead and if he knew I was alive he’d sure as hell try to stop me! And so now I’m stuck in mercenary limbo. I change my name for every job so that no one can track me.”

“Does that mean-?”

“Bailey’s not my real name, no. But I don’t really have a real name. My birth name belonged to someone who abandons their team when anything goes wrong. I’m different now. And I’ve never settled on one name since. Maybe Bailey can become my real name. Since it’s what I was using when I finally found someone worth having an identity for.”

Roman stopped, “That’s…” The flood gates opened, Roman wasn’t expecting it to be theirs. They flung their arms around Bailey. Bawling, Roman said, “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me!”

Bailey patted Roman’s head then returned the hug, “Y’know,” he said, “We’re never going to get to the Glade if you keep stopping to be this cute!”

“Alright, alright,” said Roman, collecting themself, “Let’s go!”

Bailey squinted, “Is that-? Oh my God it is! Roman, we’re finally here!”

Roman gasped, and the pair ran towards the glade.

Bailey burst into the Glade, and Roman stumbled out not too long after. It was filled with bright light which highlighted the tall, radiant grass and sparkled off of a stream that travelled through. There were rocks neatly placed around, it almost looked too perfect to be real, but magic did that sometimes. A gust of wind blew towards the pair, when it moved through the trees behind them it sounded like laughter. That was how the Giggling Glade got its name.

By the time Roman had struggled past the bushes and branches at the Glade’s borders and gotten used to the sudden change in brightness due to the lack of canopy, Bailey had already clambered up a rock and was scouting the area, his hand placed firmly at his brow to block out the sun.

Roman called up to him, “Any specific place to look for spitebark?”

“I don’t know. This is my first time too.”

“You have first times? I figured you’d have already done everything there is to do.”

Bailey laughed, “Hey, there’s a difference between being better than you and being the best, a big one. Anyway I don’t think scouting up here is doing any good for finding the spitebark. From my understanding, they’re pretty small.”

“Why were you up here then?”

“Force of habit. Either that or some desperate hope that they’d be here.”

“Oh,” muttered Roman, but Bailey paid them no mind as he began to climb down.

Once he reached the bottom, Bailey looked full of energy again, “So,” he said, “What’s the plan?”

“So we’re looking for those thin, brown plants. They look like sticks,” said Roman.

“Yep.”

“And they don’t grow close together, that's why they’re called spitebark.”

“Really?” said Bailey, “Ford could’ve said something about that.”

Roman smirked, “Are you saying I actually knew something out here that you didn’t?”

“I guess I concede,” Bailey knelt on the floor and bowed at Roman, “Teach me your ways, O Monarch of Agriculture!”

“Okay I get it!” Roman chuckled, “Just let me have this one win!”

Bailey began to get back up. “Fine,” he smirked.

“We should split up, cover more ground.”

“But-” started Bailey.

“But what? Aren’t we safe here in the Glade?”

“I mean, probably. But I don’t want to risk it.”

“What if we stay within sight?” said Roman, “That way we can cover more ground while also keeping an eye on each other.”

“Fine,” said Bailey, “Honestly I just want to be near you.”

“Aww, you’re so sweet! Seriously, though, I want to find these roots and get back quick.”

Roman called from behind Bailey, “I think I’ve found some!” Bailey turned, noticing Roman pointing at a rock. They stepped behind it and knelt, vanishing out of Bailey’s sight.

“Hey!” called Bailey, running over.

Roman popped back up, “What?”

“No leaving each other’s sight, remember!”

Roman scoffed, “Fine. Get over here then!”

As Bailey rounded the rock, Roman pointed at a plant. It was taller than Bailey expected, nearly coming up to his chest - or Roman’s chin.

“Alright so this is one,” said Roman, kneeling down to grab at the base, “We need the roots so I’ve got to dig it up. At least I was given a spade.”

Bailey smiled, “Is there anything I can do?” he asked.

“Only start trying to find another one.”

“Y’know what?” said Bailey, “I think I’m fine watching you dig actually. I’ll do the next one, though.”

Roman finished digging the dirt around the spitebark and lifted it up. At the bottom of the stem was a large, muddy bulb.

“Here it is!” they said, “Our first spitebark root!”

“We did it!”

“Just one more to go for me! How many do you need?”

“Ford wants fifty.”

Roman flinched, “Fifty? That’s insane! How much is he even paying you for that?”

“Twenty five garsons, he said they were worth a half each.”

“I don’t even think there’s fifty in the whole Glade! These things are so rare they go for at least twelve garsons each.”

“What! You’re kidding, right?”

“No! He must’ve figured that he could rip you off because you don’t know about them.”

Bailey was boiling inside. How dare he? How dare Ford undercut him like that? Bailey spoke, “When we get back, I am gonna get that b-”

“Hey, hey, hey! I know what you’re thinking.” Roman looked down to Bailey’s hand, Bailey followed their gaze. Since when had he gotten his cutlass out? “We can speak to Clara when you get back. He’ll respect her. Everyone respects her. And he sure doesn’t deserve your blade.”

“You’re right.” said Bailey, resheathing his sword. He turned to Roman, “Hey, maybe I’ll start working for Clara when we get back. We would see each other more.”

“I’d like that,” said Roman, smiling, “Alright! Back to the search.”

“At least now we know there won’t be any around here,” said Bailey, gesturing vaguely in a circle around where they both stood.

“Now that we’ve found one, another shouldn’t be hard. They point away from the nearest other plant.” There was a small flower bud at the top of the bark, it pointed out slightly. Bailey had thought nothing special of it until just then,

“If I remember correctly,” continued Roman, “it was pointing that way before I dug it up,” they pointed right, “So we need to go that way,” Roman pointed left, then turned to Bailey, ”Sorry if I’m boring you by the way, I’m sure you knew all this.”

“Actually I didn’t. It seems like Ford wasn’t as useful as he seemed.”

Roman laughed, “It’s so weird. It’s like he just wanted you to get lost out here.” before turning to walk to the next spitebark.

That phrase echoed in Bailey’s mind. He just wanted you to get lost out here.

Roman turned back, realising that Bailey hadn’t moved yet. Then they realised, “You don’t think...?”

“Actually, Roman,” said Bailey, “I do think. I think he set me up! He sent me here knowing how dangerous it can be and would have had me sit here for hours hunting for something I’ll never find. Until what? Until I get found by eaveners? Until I’m overcome with the emotions of returning and just off myself right in the middle of the Glade? Until I go crazy and start seeing the ghosts of my dead friends?-”

There was a rustling from behind Roman, Bailey looked past them. Something was in the bushes.

Roman saw Bailey’s face drop.

“What is it?” they asked.

Bailey raised a shuddering hand, and pointed over Roman’s shoulder, they turned.

Before Roman stood three humanoid figures, their skin was an ashen grey and their eyes were orbs of pale green light. The first was a tall, muscular figure who wore heavy armour and wielded a long spear. Beside him stood a shorter woman with a flowing robe, her hands were held out and magical fire was sputtering in them. Behind the two figures loomed a huge, bare chested man, his battleaxe’s head looked bigger than Roman’s entire torso. Each of the figures' clothing matched the grey of their skin. Roman also noticed green tentacles of energy wavered from the backs of their necks and into the bushes behind.

Bailey spoke first, “It’s them.”

The largest of the three let out a roaring battle cry as he and the other man ran towards Roman, the woman dodged to the side, the flames in her hands growing in intensity.

“Run!” called Bailey, but Roman couldn’t. They stood petrified as this colossus of a man stomped towards them, shuddering the ground with each step.

Bailey called again, “Roman!” But it was useless. The colossus brought his axe up, preparing to swing and-

Roman was tackled to the ground. The axe cleaved through the air, missing Roman’s head by inches. Roman looked around, Bailey lay next to them, his arms wrapped around Roman’s torso. His eyes were wide with terror, which slowly lowered to relief as they locked with Roman’s.

Bailey sighed, but before he could say anything the other fighter charged towards them. He raised his spear and prepared to strike, but Bailey whipped out his cutlass and knocked the spear aside, spiking it into the dirt.

Roman scampered to their feet, noticing the colossus had lodged his axe into the ground and was struggling to pull it out. Bailey dueled with the spearman, deftly dodging his lunges and parrying those he couldn’t duck out of the way of. The woman’s fire had grown to an immense size, she was now holding a single flame between both her hands and was preparing to throw it towards Bailey.

It was Roman who called to Bailey this time, “Bailey! Over there!” Bailey looked up to Roman and then followed their pointing arm. He saw the huge fireball just as it was leaving the caster’s hands. He jumped away from the spearman and behind a nearby rock. The spearman stood still and emotionless as the fireball engulfed him. Roman covered their face with their hands as the heavy heat stampeded over them. They cried out as it lightly burnt their forearms.

Once the blast cleared, Roman lowered their arms. The grey figure still stood within the rubble. Roman looked over to Bailey, he was peeking over the stone and staring at the spearman in awe.

There must be something with that green magic, thought Roman. Looking once again at the tendril that went from the spearman’s neck. It still led towards those bushes. Roman ran to the rock that Bailey was still crouched behind, it seemed like the fireball had disoriented the spearman, he didn’t know where either of them had gone.

Roman whispered, “Bailey!”

He turned, “What are you still doing here?” he said, exacerbatedly, “You need to get out! Run!”

“I can’t leave you here alone,” said Roman, “Anyway, I think I know what we need to do. We need to follow the magic that’s coming from them, maybe we can find a way to… I don’t know, turn it off?”

“Do you know how to turn magic off?”

“Not with magic, no. But we could kill it.”

Bailey shrugged, “Well it’s better than trying to kill them, did you see what that fireball did to Fabian?”

Fabian, that must be the spearman.

“Alright, let’s g-”

A deafening roar sounded from behind them. Roman turned. The colossus stood before them, holding his axe high over his head. He brought it down. Roman and Bailey jumped in opposite directions, the axe cleaving right where Bailey was just standing.

Bailey looked at Roman, they pointed towards the bush that the tendrils were wavering to. The two ran toward it, leaving the colossus to heave it’s axe from the ground once more.

As they reached the bush, another fireball cracked overhead. It collided with the trees, sending them careening away. The stumps that remained began to burn, before the flames tapered themselves out magically.

“Now what?” asked Bailey.

“I don’t know.” said Roman, “Just stab into it?”

Cutlass drawn, Bailey tiptoed up to the bush. He raised his arm to strike when something big and dark brown burst from the bush and tackled him to the ground. It was an eavener! It sat on top of Bailey, the three green tendrils leading straight into its head. The eavener raised one of its flint daggers to strike.

“No!” called Roman, running at the eavener. They tackled it off of Bailey. The eavener squirmed in Roman’s grip, slashing at their forearms with the stone blades. Roman screamed as the blades tore up their arm, like a pack of wolves tearing up fresh prey.

Then, all of a sudden, the flailing stopped.

Roman looked up at the eavener, a sword was lodged into its chest, Bailey’s sword! Roman followed the curve of the blade and saw Bailey at the other end. He looked deeply troubled. Roman leapt up and spread his arms towards Bailey, then flinched as the movement caused a searing pain to travel up his forearms. Roman looked innocently up at him, he had already dipped back into that caring focus he had shown at Roman’s lack of water.

“Where are those roll-things you had before?” he said, quickly.

Roman slowly moved their arm to point at the pouch, careful not to bring back the stinging pain. Bailey deftly untied it from Roman’s side and opened it, pulling out one of the ji-ais. Roman opened their mouth as Bailey gently placed it onto their tongue. They bit down on it, easily piercing the wrapping to reach the chocolate inside. It sent a warm tingling through their whole body, which slowly focused and grew in their forearms. Roman looked down at their arms, watching as the flesh around the hundreds of cuts regrew and merged with what had survived the attack. The swelling, bloodied meat looked significantly more disgusting than it felt, the magic of the ji-ais actually making the feeling quite euphoric for Roman. Once the healing had completed and the warmth died down, Roman shook their arms out, returning some of the feeling they had lost in them.

Roman suddenly realised “What about the others?”

Bailey took a sharp breath, “Oh no.”

Roman was fully expecting the colossus to burst through at that moment. But nothing happened. Now that they thought about it, they couldn’t hear the charging of magic fire either, or any noise that might have been coming from their adversaries for that matter. All they could hear was the faint tweeting of birds some distance away.

Roman turned around, looking back out over the Glade. The three figures all stood wavering across the field, standing in place like figures on a warmap. They looked to be in some sort of trance. Bailey ran over to the spellcaster, who was the nearest.

“Merida!” he said, holding her face in his hands, “Please! Wake up! Please!”

Merida’s grey skin became flaky in Bailey’s hand. He pulled away, but the ash stuck to him. He looked at it in disbelief.

“No! This isn't- It can’t- Merida!”

Bailey tried to embrace the caster, but his hands wafted through her, scattering the ashes into the wind. Once again he looked in shock. Roman turned to watch the others. The colossus was the most intact, likely due to his size. Then a strong breeze caught his head, dispersing it just like Merida. The wind snickered as it passed through the trees.

Some horrid joke, thought Roman.

Roman walked up beside Bailey and stood with him, the two just watched as the spearman Fabian’s legs gave out. He collapsed onto the floor, the ashes spurting out in a circle around where he fell. The unnamed colossus also fell, knocked over by the wind. His final flourish was significantly larger than Fabian’s.

Roman wrapped an arm around Bailey, “I’m sorry.”

Bailey just stood, his eyes wide and unfocused. Roman thought they heard him mutter something. “Thank you,” perhaps.

“We need to get out of here.” continued Roman, pulling Bailey out of his trance slightly, “There might be more eaveners on the way.”

“Yeah,” Bailey muttered, but he wasn’t walking out of the Glade. Instead he stumbled over to the pile of ash that had been Fabian. “Let me just-” with a grunt, Bailey bent over and grabbed the spear. “I need to keep these. Preserve them.” He walked over to the colossus next and heaved the axe over his shoulder. The thing dwarfed him. Roman wasn’t sure how Bailey could even carry it.

Now that Roman understood what was happening, they walked over to Merida’s ash pile. A book lay buried in it (or in her, Roman thought, grimly), Roman hadn’t seen it during the fight. They dusted the ash from its cover, revealing an old leather-bound tome. It must be her spellbook, they thought.

Roman turned as Bailey reached them, they showed him the book. Bailey nodded weakly.

Roman noticed that Bailey was struggling with the massive axe, “I can take the spear if you want me to,” they said.

Bailey handed them the spear, “Be careful with it,” he warned.

“Don’t worry, I will. I can tell what these mean to you.”

“Thank you,” Bailey turned slowly towards the forest again, “We should get going. If you want to get out of the Forest of Fables fast, you need to will it to happen. Think of New Elmus, think of people there who you want to get back to. Think of happy memories, that’s what the forest likes.”

As the two began to walk arm in arm, Roman pictured their sister, her shining, blonde hair and deep brown eyes, the smile that she gave them every time they came to visit her and their parents. They hoped she would never have to see something like what happened today.

Then they thought of Clara. They’d only gotten the one spitebark for her, but after hearing what they’d gone through, they were sure Clara would be relieved that they had made it back at all. The experimentation will have to wait.

Lastly, they thought of Bailey. Not of present Bailey - he was right beside them - but of Bailey in the future. Maybe they could find a big house in the city and live together. Maybe Roman could continue their learning under Clara and eventually be able to cook for him every day.

Roman’s visions were cut short by a clap on the back, Bailey spoke, still solemnly, but with a cockiness that reminded Roman of their initial meeting, “Nice dreaming, champ.”

Roman opened their eyes. They were already at the edge of the Forest. “Wow,” they said, “That was fast.”

Bailey smirked, “Yeah,” he said, “Yeah it was.” He looked down at Roman, “Now, let’s get me to Clara’s.”

Knock knock. Knock knock.

The door swung open, letting the familiar scents of the cafe float up into Roman’s nose. Before Roman and Bailey stood Clara. The small woman looked up at them, smiling.

“Ah, dearie! You’re back! And I see you’ve brought a friend,” she looked quizzically up at Bailey.

“Yes ma’am,” said Roman, “This is Bailey, he helped me out while I was in the Glade.”

The two shared a glance and smiled, their arms were still wrapped tightly around each other.

Bailey turned to Clara and spoke, “I was wondering if you could help me out with something in return.”

---

ty @daydreamoceans for being my test audience <3

check out my other stuff tagged #gourmancy here

#writeblr #writing #lgbt fiction #creative writing #fantasy #lgbtq #nonbinary #fiction #crackerjackawrites #gourmancy

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crackerjackawrites · 3 years

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The Poet of the Swamp (1395 Words)

A couple encounter the Poet of the Swamp, a rhyming monster that dwells in the Floridian swamps (originally written May 2021)

The wind whistled through the roots of the Cypress trees. It was a cold night, you don’t get them in Florida all too much, not really cold nights like this, anyway. Nish and Scarlett strode through the mud as they walked out onto the swamp. “I bet you’re glad you changed outta that dress, huh? All that white lace would never’ve survived the mud,” said Nish, trying to avoid the muddiest areas in front of him as he walked.

“Gosh, darling, you’re right! I hadn’t even thought of that! I only changed to get out of that damn corset. It was tight as a well-turned bolt!” replied Scarlett, also trying to avoid the mud, albeit less cautiously due to her tall wading boots, “That rental place would not have been happy if we’d brought it back like that.”

“No, ma’am,” replied Nish, “Say, all this excitement with the honeymoon, it’s got me feelin’ a certain kinda way. If you know what I’m saying.”

“Oh, yes I do!” Scarlett leaped onto the roots of a nearby tree, they were standing high enough out the ground that she was taller than Nish now. She held a branch with one hand and spread her other arm out, “The whole world is our oyster, Nish! I feel like we can do anything together!”

“You said it! With you by my side, I feel like I ca-” He stopped.

“Nish?” Scarlett spun around. No one stood there.

“Nish this isn’t funny!”

She hadn’t heard him move. How had he gone so fast? She hopped down from the roots.

“Nish, come on!”

She ran to the only other tree he could’ve hid behind in that time, nearly tripping face first into the mud on the way. She darted behind it, he wasn’t there.

Tears began to well in her eyes.

“Nish!”

He was gone, but how?.

“Nish come back!”

Scarlett was balling now. She fell to the ground, her knees were instantly caked in mud. She screamed out.

A whistling cut through her wails. It came from far away, but she could sense the direction. She got up, the curiosity overpowering her grief for a moment.

Scarlett looked up, she saw a figure sitting on the tree she had just stood on. The figure was cloaked, and it was hard to make out anything about them at this distance. They sat on a colourful but faded carpet. How did they get there so fast?

Scarlett called out, “Hello?”

The voice that replied was rough and splintering, but it spoke with a poetic rhythm. “Hello my child, what do you seek? This swamp is not for the faint or meek. You should be careful of what steps you take. Unless you’ve already seen this fate?”

“What do you mean?” asked Scarlett, “And why are you speaking like that?” She began to walk up to figure.

“By this I mean, have you lost a friend, a soulmate, a lover ‘till the bitter end?” the figure made a noise somewhere between a chuckle and a grunt, “Dancing around this is a cause of strife. I know what happened to Nish’s life.”

Scarlett froze, “What did you do to him?”

The poet disregarded that question, “As for why I speak like this, you asked. It is the same cause that I wear this mask,” Scarlett hadn’t noticed until now but the figure did have a mask that she could just make out beneath it’s cloak. As the poet looked at her, she could see it looked like a skull. The poet continued, “I’m named for this place atop which you’ve romped. The folks know me as... the Poet of the Swamp.”

With that it leaped up from the carpet, the cloak billowing out into the wind. There was a reason the Poet had been covered up. It had long fleshless limbs made of bone. The thing must have stood at a lanky 7 foot tall. Minimum.

It spoke again, “Now run, Miss Scarlett. Get out! Be free! After all... this was just a dream.”

Scarlett shot up, clutching the comforter. She sighed, it was a dream, just like the Poet had said. She’d woken up in the hotel suite that they had hired for the honeymoon, it’s warm lighting and soft coloured walls helped calm Scarlett down again. She turned to her right, where Nish lay facing away from her. He was still there. Thank God. She never normally had nightmares, and none of her dreams felt that real. The sun was just starting to shine through the curtains so she turned and nudged Nish. Her hand pushed through his back, grabbing a clump of his shoulder, revealing mud and mulch beneath. Scarlett screamed, Nish turned.

He spoke with the voice of the Poet, “Hello, my dear don’t be alarmed. I don’t mean you a speck of harm. Go back to sleep, it'll be alright. Unless you want to get lost again tonight.” It began to cackle, a sputtering noise like a drowning ox. Nish’s face melted into sludge.

“No. No. No!”

Everything went dark. The void was wetter and thicker than she had expected. She couldn’t breathe! Then, she was birthed from the swamp. The mud parted as she rose to the surface, gasping for air. The Poet still sat on its tree, looking down at Scarlett and tutting.

“You want him back, that I can see. But to meet Nish again, you’ll take over from me.”

“What do you mean?” asked Scarlett, “‘Take over from you?’”

“If you want to see young Nish’s face, you’ll have to replace me as Poet of this place,” if a masked face could smile, it did then.

“No, please! Is there nothing else I can do?”

“I’m afraid that’s a no, Miss O'Flanagan. And if you don’t submit we’ll just start once again!”

The mud beneath her receded as Scarlett began to sink back down. She heard the Poet in her head, all you have to do to get your husband back is give yourself over and follow my track. Scarlett flailed around in the damp darkness, but it began to push in on her. She could feel the mud constricting her body. Miss Scarlett, Miss Scarlett, Miss Scarlett, come on! I want to get out of this place and be gone! I’ve lost too much of myself in these depths, witnessed too many unsavoury deaths. The Poet spoke faster and faster, This place is like hell but you won’t stay for long. You just have to trick someone with a good song. Spin them a tale they won’t soon forget, they’ll quickly come over after that threat.

The Poet’s voice began to echo over itself in her mind, repeating stanza after stanza in a hellish cacophony.

“Fine!” she screamed, although it was muffled by the dirt, “I give in!” The voices stopped, Scarlett was once again released from the ground, she got up and caught her breath, spitting some mud from her mouth as she did so. She turned to the Poet, “Just give him back to me, please.”

The Poet chuckled lightly, then said, “Thank you, dear, you’ve set me free. And now, your husband, you can finally see. But that task’s not so easy, no ma’am not one bit. For I stretched the truth a slight, I admit. You won’t see your husband ‘til you pass on this curse. Until then you’ll sit here, sing verse after verse. Anyway, I must go, you’ve allowed me to leave. I hope, when you see Nish, he won’t cause you to grieve.”

The Poet let out one last breath, a small blue vapour sputtered from the mask and danced into the sky. Scarlett watched it go. There was a beauty to it, despite what the poet had done to her. She walked over to where the empty bones lay and grabbed the carpet from underneath. She set it up on another tree’s roots and sat for a while, waiting.

I sit here alone, waiting for a soul,

Someone who’s willing to pay this damned toll.

I try not to think of how long it may take,

For, truly, my body is starting to ache.

I think of the Poet that was here before,

Their carpet was tattered and bones deeply worn.

There’s only one thing in this world that I wish,

To see my husband again, Nish.

#writeblr #writblr #writing #creative writing #horror #fiction #crackerjackawrites #standalones

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crackerjackawrites · 3 years

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setting guide: gourmancy

[this setting title is set to change as i expand more of this world beyond gourmancy itself]

gourmancy is a culinary magic, it is centred around the magical creation of food. despite being the (current) name of the setting, gourmancy is actually not the only magic that exists in this world. rather gourmancers harness conjuration magics to summon pieces of food together simultaneously in order to quickly create meals. while it is not a necessary skill in order to be dubbed a gourmancer, some also learn pyromancy (to master and control how their food cooks) and/or alchemy (to give their dishes magical potion effects on consumption)

the city of New Elmus is the main setting for gourmancy stories, within the city lies Clara’s, the best gourmancy cafe in the city and workplace for many a curious character.

read my stories tagged #gourmancy here

#gourmancy #setting guide #crackerjackawrites

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crackerjackawrites · 3 years

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setting guide: the inksphere

the inksphere is a high fantasy setting. the magic is sourced from a magical ink that, when tattooed on a body in specific rune shapes, grants the user magical powers. these tattoos are known as atramens and users of atramens are known as atrameni.

the city of Glaven is the location where most stories set in the inksphere will take place. it is governed by a council of seven precursors, a non-human species who are both sexless and ageless - they cannot age and cannot have offspring. this council of seven are the last survivors of their species after their kingdom was destroyed by an unknown force. before humans had harnessed the powers of atramens, the precursors arrived in what is now known as New Taehan and were immediately praised and worshipped by the humans because of an ancient prophecy that claimed this would happen. not long after the precursors arrived, humanity discovered the atramen inks and an era of power followed. this reinforced the belief that the precursors were some divine gift upon humanity and that they must be treated like gods.

read my stories tagged #inksphere here

#inksphere #setting guide #crackerjackawrites

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crackerjackawrites · 3 years

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Walking Inferno (2600 Words)

A hired killer is in for a horrific surprise after his most recent hit. (originally written February 2021)

Don Giuliani - or just Don, as he liked to be known by his employees - sat in the large, leather bound chair at his desk. Papers were spread out across the table and a cigar sat in the nearby ashtray, still leaking smoke into the room. It was like a damn hotbox in there, and somebody needed to open a window (it wouldn’t be Don, he had people for that). Opposite Don sat Payton Gonzalez, a broad-chested bull of a man. His brown hair was beginning to recede, but it gave him a wise look, made up for what was going on up there in his head. Nothing, by Don’s estimate.

“So,” said Payton, his voice strong and confident, “What’s the next hit?”

“I’ve got the papers here,” replied Don, and he began to rummage through the papers on his desk. “Somewhere here.”

Eventually, Don pulled out an envelope from beneath a spread of important documents, “Here,” he muttered, and passed it over to Payton. Payton opened the file, it had a name in large letters at the top of the page,

“You’re kidding,” said Payton, “John Smith?”

“It’s great, huh? Like he’s some sorta fuckin’ character!”

Payton smirked, and carried on reading. Below the name was Mr. Smith’s date of birth, April second, 1968; his place of work, Reeves and Bromley Ltd.; and his address, Rotterdam Apartments, 247th Street, Manhattan. Also in the envelope was a picture of John, he had blonde hair and his chin was dotted with stubble, he had light blue eyes and thick eyebrows above them. The image showed him walking into work wearing a bomber jacket and dark jeans.

Payton dropped the papers onto his lap, “So what’s this guy’s deal?”

“It’s not him we have the problem with, it’s his daughter. She’s suspended her deal with us, so we’re gonna teach her a lesson. Hopefully she learns something here, or we’re gonna have to go after her other papa too.”

“How do you want me to go about it?” asked Payton.

“Car bomb,” said Don, “that should get the message across.”

“Of course, sir.”

Payton stood on the street opposite John’s car, two blocks away from Reeves and Bromley. It was coming up to 6pm, so John would be leaving work any second now and heading for his car. The bomb was planted. All Payton needed was for John to turn the keys and boom, he’d get the paycheck.

John strolled around the corner, he wore the same jacket that he had on in the image from his file. He looked like he was in a rush to get home. Good. John unlocked his car, got into the seat, fiddled with his keys for a second, pushed it into the- Boom! Payton had forgotten how quickly those things go off. People started screaming all around him. Payton joined in the panic, he knew how suspicious it would look if he didn’t. He always wished he could walk away with the swagger of an action hero from the movies, but his job never let him, so he had to make do with shouting and running away. One of the worst compromises in his life, he thought. Either way, this was another successful hit, some extra cash in his pocket.

Don Guiliani’s place looked abandoned, Payton guessed that was on purpose. The dark green paint on the door was peeling, revealing the rusted metal beneath it, and the windows were boarded up with rotting wooden planks. The bricks looked like they hadn’t been washed in years. Payton knocked on the door and the rusting peephole scraped open.

“Passwo-”

“Cinnamon Roll,” said Payton, he was sure Don got a kick out of making him say that every time he came in.

“Alright, man!” moaned the voice from the door, “Why’re you in such a fuckin’ rush?.”

The door opened, and Payton walked through, shoving the doorman with his shoulder. The building looked just as run down on the inside as it did the outside, Don really needed a designer. Payton made his way through the corridor, straight towards Don’s office. He knocked, 1-2-3, pause, 1-2, the second code that Don had given him, after “cinnamon roll”.

“Come in, boy,” called Don from within the room, Payton opened the door, “How did it go?”

“Fine,” said Payton, “You got the cash?”

“Of course,” Don reached down below his desk and pulled out a briefcase, he clicked open the locks to reveal wads of notes laying within, “There we are. Exactly what I promised it’d be.” Don locked the briefcase again.

“Thanks,” grunted Payton, and he grabbed the case. He got up, walked straight out the building, and continued all the way to his apartment. He’d count it up when he got back.

That night, Payton dreamed. He dreamed of fire, of his skin boiling until it melted from his bones. Molten metal piercing his charred flesh, burning his insides. He screamed until his throat either dried up or turned to ash, he couldn’t tell which came first. He dreamed of a man, a man who hated him. He cried for revenge. He cried to take Payton’s life.

Payton shot up from his bed. It was dark out still. He never had nightmares. Who was that figure? The devil? Payton wasn’t a particularly religious man. Was it John? Payton had never had that type of reaction after a hit before, so he doubted it. John wasn’t special in any way. Not to Payton at least. He checked the time on his phone: five forty-three. He had to get up at seven, no point in trying to sleep again now.

A few hours later, Payton stood at the entrance of Solar Mechanics, his other place of work. Much like Don’s, Solar was a pretty run-down building with tattered brick work and creaky garage doors, this one at least looked lived in from the outside, though. This definitely wasn’t the first time Payton had gone to work the day after a hit, but something felt off today. It was probably the dream. Payton tentatively stepped through the garage door, keeping his guard up more than usual. Payton locked eyes with his manager, George, from his small office space across the service area. George got up and waved at Payton.

“Hey, Payton!” he called from across the room, “I need you for something, asap.” He said asap like a word, not an acronym.

“Yes?” snapped Payton.

“Woah there, tiger.” He chuckled, “I just need you to do a service drive with one of the beasts over here.” George walked over to what he called “the beasts”, the section on the service floor reserved for the most powerful cars in stock. Payton followed.

“A Bugatti?”

“A damn powerful one too,” George chuckled again, “released this year.”

“Damn.” Payton muttered.

“Uh-huh.”

“And you just want me to take it out?”

“Yep. I’ll get you the key now. I only need you out there for like 30 minutes. No biggy.”

“Yessir.”

George returned with the key and bowled it to Payton. Who snatched it out of the air with ease. Payton stuck the key into the ignition and turned, causing the engine to ignite with power.

“Oh, baby!” called Payton over the light, satisfying rumble of the engine, “It's hot!”

“Enjoy!” said George, smirking. He slapped the back of the car like it was a racehorse and Payton drove out of the front of the garage smoothly. Payton drove aimlessly for a while, but came to his consciousness when he realised where he’d driven.

The sign of Reeves and Bromley Ltd. loomed over him and, for a while, Payton just stared up at it in awe. Shit, why did he come back? He didn’t mean to. Was it fate? Payton slowly drove away from the sign and around the corner, the same corner where the bomb had been planted. It was like he was on autopilot. Payton drove up the street, straining against all his willpower not to look at the space where the car had sat. But he gave in. There was still a large, black scorch mark on the road. The body of the car had been towed away but still little pieces of metal lay across the road like soldiers in a war they’d already lost. Payton could hear a crackling, like fire. He whipped his head around… But saw nothing. He turned back, to face an inferno across the street. The spiral of fire lashed out in all directions, it roared at Payton. People started screaming all around him, running from the flame. But Payton was frozen in fear. He squinted into the fire. It looked like there was someone in there. There was someone in there! A dark humanoid figure stood, wreathed in the blaze. It began to walk toward Payton.

“Shit, shit, shit!” he cried, scrambling at the door handle. He finally grasped hold of it and yanked, nearly pulling it clean off. He pushed open the door and practically fell out the door, only to find himself face to face with the raging blaze. The figure inside lifted their finger and pointed at Payton. It spoke with a strained voice,

“You…”

Payton started to back away, “Who- Who are you?”

“You… know... me.” And Payton did. He didn’t know how, but he now recognised the figure as John Smith. John’s corpse continued, “Why… did… you… kill me?”

“It was what I was told to do!” Payton panted, “If you wanna take it up with anyone, make it Don - Don Giuliani. Please!”

The fire surrounding John weakened, and he stepped forward, revealing his charred flesh and ashen bones. His voice became less strained, it still had a low growl to it “Does that justify it for you? That someone else asked you to kill me?”

“No,” Payton nearly tripped on a pothole, “Of course n-”

John erupted into flames and screamed, “Then why did you do it?” John began to extinguish again, “What did I even do?” John was now practically just a black skeleton, some small embers flickered beneath his remaining flesh.

“It wasn’t you,” muttered Payton, “It was your daughter.” Payton suddenly realised that the two of them were standing in the middle of an empty street, everyone else fled when John had appeared.

“Laura?” the small embers across John’s body started to multiply, “She was in the mafia?”

“Until recently,” Payton was starting to calm down now, the site of a burning corpse standing before him almost felt normal, “She stopped her deals, Don wanted to get back at her.”

John’s blaze roared up again. Payton could feel the heat, even from this distance, “So you killed me?”

“Like I said,” this scene felt entirely natural to Payton now, “it wasn’t my choice-”

“Every time you kill someone it’s a choice, and I know this wasn’t your first time.”

“Please, you should take this out on Don. I’ve got a kid at home! You know what that’s like.”

John tutted, Payton wasn’t sure how, “I know that’s a lie, Payton. I was in your apartment last night. I saw you... alone.”

“Shit,” Payton muttered. Before he could say anything else, John started walking towards him. All the familiarity Payton had felt was melting away, and he stared directly at the molten cadaver of the man he had murdered the evening before. Nearly all his flesh had melted away now, small scraps of skin were still smouldering on his skull and his tendons were beginning to break under the heat; leaving him to stagger forward with an uncanny speed.

Payton backed up into an alley, he was too far in when he realised the mistake. The two tall buildings on either side cast dark shadows into the alley, the shadows only broken by the roaring fires that were spilling out of John and towards Payton. He was trapped. Unless? Payton spun around to face the wall at the end of the alley, it looked just about climbable. He took a step back, hearing the crackling flames behind him, and ran at the wall. He leaped and caught the top of the bricks with his fingertips.

His muscles straining, Payton slowly pulled himself up the wall. But then, a searing pain caught his left thigh. Payton turned, and found John’s arms clasped onto his leg, the torrid heat was branding his thigh. John yanked Payton down with ease and threw him into the row of trash cans that lined the alley. John scrambled to his feet. As he was getting up, Payton noticed his left pant leg had a large hole burned into it where John had grabbed him. The burn went all the way through to his flesh, where it was bright red and scabbing.

“Don’t worry,” said John, his voice becoming more strained and alien as the fire surrounding him grew, “I’ll find Don after we’re done here. At least you’ll have the pleasure of knowing you weren’t the only one to die.”

Payton backed up against one of the walls, “Please! John, please. You don’t have to do this.”

“Oh but I do. If I kill you then I’ll be free of this life. Free of this torture!”

John took a step closer to Payton. Payton took a step back. John took a step closer to Payton, but Payton was up against the wall now. John took another step and Payton could feel the heat singeing the hairs on his arms. John moved his arm back and thrust it into Payton’s chest. Payton looked down, John had burnt a clean hole straight where his heart was. John yanked his arm back out and Payton sputtered, boiling blood pouring out of his mouth. Payton looked up, his vision blurred, and could just make out John holding his heart in one hand. John slowly tightened his grip around the heart until it popped, spraying blood over Payton’s face. Payton’s vision slowly dimmed, with John’s chuckle the only thing left to keep him company.

Don Giuliani sat in the large, leather-bound chair at his desk. He had finally decided to sort out the clusters of papers that had lay strewn across it every day for too long to remember. He was finding all the old hit profiles that had been given back to him from the agents, he really should’ve shredded those as he got them. It was lucky that he hadn’t been caught. A cop could easily bust down the door and execute him on the spot with all this evidence. He was putting the final file into the bag when he heard a shout from the hallway.

“Holy shit! He’s burnin’ the fuckin’ door down!” It was Oz, the doorman.

“What?” called Don, storming into the hallway. He looked at the large, metal door and, sure enough, the rusted steel was melting right before his eyes. “Holy shit.”

Oz shoved past him, his face a portrait of terror. Don looked back at the door, something was stopping his instinct to flee. The door began to glow orange with heat, then yellow, then white. Something punched through the door, sending globs of molten metal over the floor, it looked like a black, skeletal hand. A leg kicked a hole through the door afterwards. Then an entire charcoal skeleton stepped through, it was wreathed in flames. It looked straight at Don.

“Hello, Don.”

“J-John?”

#writeblr #writblr #writing #creative writing #horror #fiction #crackerjackawrites #standalones

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crackerjackawrites · 3 years

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Dante's Divine Disappearings (2450 Words)

A trans girl with disapproving parents is invited to meet Dante, a mysterious spellcaster who claims he can help her get away from her current life (originally written January 2021)

I change people’s lives. It’s quite easy actually, people who need me will find my flyer:

DANTE’S DIVINE DISAPPEARINGS

Want to get away from your current life?

Want to change who you are forever?

Want to leave it all behind and start afresh?

Well come down to Dante’s Divine Disappearings and we’ll whisk you away from your current plight and land you in a new, much happier life.

Then there’s an address beneath, but it changes depending on where the person lives. It’s always in some creepy alleyway that no one goes down. What can I say? I still have a flair for drama.

As a Private Transmuter, I’ve changed people into all sorts. Made them older, younger, a man, a woman, someone in-between and - get this - even animals. In fact, a new customer is on their way now.

“So Harry,” that wasn’t Jess’ name, not anymore, “When are you going to finally grow out of this phase of yours?”

Jess had come out to her parents months ago now, it was the worst mistake of her life. She knew that trying to get them to understand was a lost cause at this point. Jess just sat there, her arms crossed over her chest, refusing to discuss the matter with her parents anymore.

Her mother pointed an accusatory fork her way, “It’ll happen eventually, it always does,” her father chuckled at that.

This was hell. Jess focused on her meal, a slice of chicken pie with mashed potato. It was one of the last good things that came from her parents now, most of her time at home was either spent alone in her room or hearing this constant barrage of bigotry from the two of them. She tried to be out of the house as often as possible. After finishing her meal, Jess quickly got up, took her plate to the kitchen, and marched upstairs to her room.

She practically collapsed onto her bed, letting out a large sigh as she did so. She couldn’t wait until she was finally old enough to move out, then she would be happy and free. She opened her window to let some air into the stuffy room. Hell, it would be great if she could get out of here now.

There was a rustling from outside, Jess stuck her head out the window to see what it was. As she poked her head out to find the source of the noise, a paper crane was blown through the window. She jumped back. The paper danced around the air for a while before Jess snatched at it abruptly. She unfolded the note, it read:

DANTE’S DIVINE DISAPPEARINGS

Want to get away from your current life?

Want to change who you are forever?

Want to leave it all behind and start afresh?

Well come on down to Dante’s Divine Disappearings and we’ll whisk you away from your current plight and land you in a new, much happier life.

Head to:

The alleyway between 31 and 32 Jackdaw Street

Philadelphia

Pennsylvania

USA

That was three blocks away! It seemed suspiciously perfect, but Jess had only ever come out to her friend Max - and her parents of course - so who could try and trick her with this?

She called Max.

Ring!

He picked up, “Hey Jess, what’s up?,” it was good to hear his voice after that ordeal downstairs.

“Hey Max, could we meet up? I have to go somewhere but I don’t want to go alone.”

“You have to go somewhere? What does that mean?”

“It’s hard to explain, I’ve just been given this address.”

“Doesn’t that sound sketchy?”

“I mean, yeah… that’s why I need you there.”

He sighed, “Okay fine, meet at my house?”

“Sounds good.”

Max always knew that if Jess was determined to go somewhere then it wasn’t worth trying to stop her. He doesn’t even try and resist anymore.

Jess didn’t want to deal with her parents. She walked over to the open window and looked down. Was she really going to climb out of her house at 9 o’clock at night to leave her whole life behind? Of course she was. She could quite easily slide down the drain pipe. She didn’t want to disappear without saying anything though, so she grabbed some paper and a pen:

Mom & Dad,

I’m leaving. You’ll never see me again. I cannot stand living in this house anymore.

I hope that, eventually, you can overcome your hate but I’m not sticking around waiting to see it.

Yours confidently,

Jessica.

She folded the note and placed it onto her pillow. Then ran back to the window for the last time. It was a long drop if she fell, but it was worth it. Jess grabbed on to the drain pipe and slowly slid down it until she hit the ground.

She’d finally done it! She’d escaped!

It was a 25 minute walk to Max’s place, but Jess ran it in 15. Max was already standing outside the apartments when she arrived.

“You look warm,” said Max.

Jess panted, “I ran the whole way. Plus it’s the middle of summer so it’s not exactly a cold night,”

Max chuckled, “So where are you taking me?”

“Ummm,” said Jess, pulling out the note, “The alleyway between 31 and 32 Jackdaw Street.”

Max snatched at the note, “Let me read this!”

“Hey!” Jess called, but she let him take it. She was too tired after the run to resist.

He studied the note for a minute as they walked.

“This is super sketchy, dude.”

“Yeah, I know...” she sighed.

“Don’t worry, though. I’ll stick with you!”

“Thanks,” Jess smiled, “I’m glad.” Max smiled back.

The pair stood at the opening to the alleyway, between a small fabric store and an independent café. Garbage bags were littered down the alley, one had a large gash in it that was spilling used coffee cups and cake wrappers. A tall, black door stood at the end, dwarfing the kids with its grandeur and intricate carvings. Multiple different animals were carved into the door; a frog, a tiger, a toucan and a bear - a peculiar line-up to be sure. Jess creeped up to the door and reached for the knocker but before she grabbed it, the door swung open.

The room was pitch black, save for a single candle that’s fire highlighted a small chair facing away from the door. As they approached the door, someone spoke from the darkness.

“I’m sorry, Jessica. I wasn’t expecting you to bring a guest,” two quick claps sounded from the shadows and the whole room lit up. A tall figure stood across from Jess and Max. He was wearing a black suit and jacket with a red tie and gloves. His skin was a dark brown that, along with his outfit, stood out from the pale peach walls of the room. He also held a long, black cane with a model rabbit’s head at the top.

“How do you know my name? Who are you? What is with this place?” Jess had so many questions. She’d been so taken aback by the person that she hadn’t noted the rest of the building’s interior. It was an absolute mess. Shelves lined every wall, filled with all sorts of peculiar objects: a large jar containing a lizard floating in a pink liquid; a vial of something green that seemed to be boiling at room temperature; and what looked to be a raging storm trapped inside of a bottle, to name a few.

“I’m magic, I’m Dante, this is my house - it’s also magic.”

Dante walked forward and Jess could finally see him in detail. He had a very young-looking face with fierce, brown eyes. His near-black hair was short, so short that it must have been shaved only a few weeks ago.

“Hey!” called Max, “Get back from her!”

“Calm down, kid,” said Dante, strolling past the pair, “I’m getting you a seat” Dante had met Max for all of a minute, his patience was already being tested.

Max flinched at being called a kid. Jess knew that, while he was only 16, Max thought of himself as very mature, and hated being seen otherwise. Dante opened the door the pair had entered through. Instead of the alleyway, Jess could just make out a large hall with rows of metal folding chairs, there were also a few balloons scattered on the floor. It looked like some sort of sad party. Dante snatched up one of the chairs and brought it back through. He placed it beside the other.

“Here you go, kid,” Max and Jess could only stare, blankly at what they’d just witnessed, “Sit down.”

The pair instinctively took their seats, and Dante moved to stand before them.

“Jess, you’re going to have to introduce me to your friend here. Like I said, I wasn’t expecting company.”

“Umm,” Jess was taken aback by Dante, she didn’t know what to say, “This is Max,” she looked over at Max, he had his arms crossed and was narrowing his eyes at Dante. Jess couldn’t blame him.

“Well hello Max,” Dante reached one hand to each of the kids, “And hello Jess of course.”

They each shook Dante’s hand. Jess asked, “How do you know my name?”

“Well I already told you, I’m magic,” he smirked, “If it helps, I’ve been spying on you for quite some time,” Jess’ eyes widened in disbelief, she couldn’t believe that he would admit to that, “...or maybe that didn’t help.”

“You-”

“Yep!” said Dante, trying desperately to divert Jess from accusing him of anything, “I’ve seen your situation at home. You want out, don’t you?”

“Well… yes, but that doesn’t-”

“Yes!“ Dante cut her off again, “And I have a solution. However little Max here has certainly become a complication.”

Max scowled at that.

“What if I were to tell you that you could leave it all behind! Finally escape this place you call home. With one catch,” he paused (for drama), “You have to leave everyone from before.”

Jess and Max recoiled in unison, “What?” they both cried.

“I’m sorry, it’s part of the method. You have to leave it all behind.”

Jess started, “But... but-”

“Look, like I said I’m sorry. That’s why I was hoping you’d come alone. So you didn’t have to face this - face him - in person,” Dante gestured to Max.

“Please, Jess,” said Max, “You can’t just leave, can you? I mean, you can be happy here.”

“Max I’m really sorry. But I don’t think I can be happy here anymore. I know you think you know nearly everything about me but the truth is that you can never understand what it’s like to live my life. There’s no way I could make it out of that house alive.”

Max looked down and sighed.

“What if Max came with me?” Jess blurted out. Max’s eyes darted.

“I suppose that could work,” said Dante.

“Jess, no!” Max waved his arms up, “I’m sorry but I couldn’t. I’m really happy where I am.”

Jess looked down at her legs, “I’m sorry. I didn’t even consider whether you wanted to,” she said, “You’re right. And I can do this on my own. Thank you, Max.”

“Alright kids, are you done? I’ve got a schedule to keep. Actually, I don’t. But this is getting boring.”

“Obviously it’ll be a shame to lose you, but if you’re happier there - wherever there is - then I’d be happier for you too.”

Dante looked at Jess, “Are you ready? Have you made peace with everything?”

“Yes,” she stood up and looked at Max.

“I’ll miss you,” he said, smiling up at her. Jess shed a tear.

“I’ll miss you too.”

Dante has taken Jess into a new room, leaving Max alone with his thoughts. That really was the last time he’ll see Jess. His best friend since they were six. She’d changed so much in that time, grown into the best person he’d ever known. He’ll miss her, obviously. But he knows this was best for her. For... who? The name slips from Max’s head. No! This was his best friend! How could he forget their name? He has memories with them! No, they were gone! He can’t even remember what they looked like! What who looked like? Where is he? Max started to panic.

The door behind him swung open, a man and woman walked out; the man in a black suit and jacket, the woman in a flower-patterned summer dress, she looked almost familiar, she was only a few years older than Max. He stared at them in confusion.

“Scram, kid!” said the man. And Max vanished in red smoke.

“What happened to him?” asked Jess, her hand still held up to her chest from before.

“Don’t worry, he’ll wake up in bed tomorrow. Anyway, we need to talk about you, young lady.”

Jess squirmed with excitement, “I know!” she was still getting used to her new voice, “I look great! Thank you so much!”

“So. You are Jess Bennet, a Philadelphia girl who just moved to England to study. I’ll get your luggage now,” Dante walked back through the door, which now led into a cloakroom, and returned with a large suitcase with the same daisy pattern as Jess’ dress. Jess giggled with excitement again.

“There’s all the I.D. you’ll need in there, some clothes, and some cash,” Jess’ face lit up at that, making Dante smile too.

“Thank you, again.”

“Hey, it’s what I do. If you’d just step this way,” he walked over to the door again and opened it. This time it opened to a bustling square, students could be seen walking between the buildings that surround it.

“Wait,” said Jess, “It’s like 10pm here. Shouldn’t it be really early in England?”

“Oh yes it should be,” said Dante, “But time doesn’t exactly work how it’s supposed to in my place. Right now it’s 8:43am and you’re nearly late to the first day of the rest of your life,” Dante said with a smirk.

Still smiling, Jess walked, perhaps for the first time in her life, with true purpose. Here she was, a fully grown woman, living the life she’d always dreamed of, even if it meant leaving some things behind. She’d miss Max, of course she would. But she knew that he would be happy if he could see her now.

Max woke up in a sweat. That was a weird nightmare. It felt like one of those dreams that lasted way longer than the time you spent sleeping. He’d made a new friend, Jessica, grown up with her through their entire childhood, and then had all the memories with her drained from his mind. He could remember them all again now though, it felt like a story now. Good times. It was a shame he’d never get to meet her.

#writeblr #writing #writblr #lgbt fiction #urban fantasy #lgbtq #transgender #fantasy #fiction #crackerjackawrites #dante

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