Time can be an individual's greatest enemy. Today it's Warren’s supervillain with a doomsday machine. A simple bathroom break became a fight for survival. It started with eyes in the trees but escalated to the rustle of branches, and unseen snarls. The rustle of branches and the glowing eyes followed Melanie. Her tattered coat blended in with the thick shadows, and the moon obscured the clouds. Warren lost track of her, and a speck of panic entered his mind.
Bit of sweaty palm stuck to the frosty handle, while Warren snagged the carbon fiber hockey stick out of the back seat. Hockey players can be superstitious. Warren believes the piece of sports equipment is lucky. It isn’t much but allows hope to enter his mind in a tough situation.
Silhouettes streak from the trees straight to the bathrooms. Warren catches a glimpse of the crafty attackers. They are malformed, with three eyes and long yarn-like hair. Twenty yards stood between Warren and the possible rescue of his mother.
In the back of Warren's mind, a presence stirred. A primal instinct begged for control and clawed at his mind. Warren ignored it and pressed onward, with his stick raised over his head. Nobody hurt his mom, no one. The stick vibrated as it crashed against the skull of a malformed head. A high-pitched shriek caught the short creature's attention.
A bottomless well of rage-filled Warren, and he never stopped swinging. The primal instinct sighed in ecstasy with every blow. A minute later the terrors lay broken at his feet. Warren gave them the kick test and burst through the door of the woman’s bathroom.
Warren fought the urge to burst into tears at the sight of blood. Long crimson streaks ran down the coat and formed a pool at Melanie’s feet. She wobbled on the spot and teetered on the edge of collapse. The primal instinct gripped Warren with ferocity and drove the teen to fight. Each beat of his heart cried out for the blood of his enemies. Warren answered the call.
“I’m coming mom,” Warren shouted. The words bounced off the white concrete wall.
The last thing Warren expected to see in the eyes of the grey-skinned horrors was fear. They pointed at Warren and chittered in panic. He rushed forward to attack, his eyes devoid of mercy. The creatures put up their hands and chittered rapidly.
“You should have thought of that before you attacked my mom,” Warren cross-checked them into the wall before he drove the but end of his stick into the gut of the tallest one. Horrid breath wafted up to his nose, but it didn’t matter. With a life on the line, victory mattered, the end.
“Warren take the car and run,” Melanie shouted. She clutched her belly, to staunch the bleeding. Her hand gripped the porcelain sink to hold her aloft.
The stick hooked a horror by the back of the neck and yanked it forward. He spun on his heels, and nearly took the creature's head off. It went face-first to the cold concrete. The primal instinct screamed at him to finish. Warren raised a size ten boot and crushed the skull beneath it. Purple ooze stained the rows of sharpened teeth.
Warren turned and the other had escaped. With the threat temporarily over the primal instinct retreated to whence it came. He regained his faculties and dropped the bloody stick appalled by his actions. What would his mom think? Right, his mom was by the sink bleeding to death.
“Hang on, Mom. We have that deluxe first aid kit in the back of the station wagon.” Warren slid his hand around his mother’s shoulder, “You have to stay awake.”
A blood-soaked hand caressed his cheek, “You are a good boy.” Melanie's body grew heavier, and her eyes started to close. “I’m sleepy, when do we sleep.” Her words slurred, and a trail of blood dripped down her chin.
Warren found no shame in desperation, “You can’t do that, I thought you were going to sing?”
A weak laugh turned into a cough. Flecks of crimson dotted the snow, “You don’t like my singing.”
“Since when does that stop you?” The car grew closer, and Warren held hope in an iron grip. He could still save Melanie.
Melanie almost ground to a halt, “When I’m gone...”
“Don’t talk like that. We have about ten yards to the car. Wouldn’t Nerea be sad if you didn’t come back,” Warren tried to pick up the pace, but his mother's body grew heavier with each step. A hand tapped Warren on the shoulder.
“Tell your father, there is nothing to forgive,” Melanie sighed, her eyes closed never to open again.
Tears welled up in Warren's eyes, and he slapped the still warm face. It couldn’t be true, she was just talking to him. She fell asleep and would wake up any second. Five minutes passed, still no pulse. After ten minutes, Warren accepted the fact Melanie died in his arms.
Given his situation, Warren put grief on the back burner, he had no choice. He was in a rest area in the middle of nowhere, with God knows what in the woods. Hard choices lay ahead, and none of them were good. He agonized over the body Melanie. Should he leave it behind? Would people be disappointed if he did? How would he feel in the long run?
However, dead bodies with serious wounds are hard to explain to a cop. How long before a body started to smell horrid? Warren had no answers, how could he? “I am not leaving you behind,” with a great heave he began to drag Melanie’s lifeless for toward the car.
The floral scent found Warren’s nose, and as much as he hated it, it would be missed more. “Nerea will help us, I know it. I’ll call her as soon as you are loaded up.” It took fifteen minutes of hard work to pull Melanie's blood-soaked corpse into the station wagon. Salty tears bubble to the surface of his ducts, he tried to tell himself she’d wake up at any minute. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.” Warren grabbed a scratchy wool blanket from the emergency kit. He covered Melanie with care.
In an instant, Warren's mind snapped back to reality, and his eyes hit the treeline at breakneck speed. The unnatural growls and shrieks intensified, the rustle of branches and crunch of snow told him to get a move on. The primal instinct crept back into the forefront of his mind and urged Warren to take the driver’s seat.
They came out of the trees waving spears and clubs made from bones. The snow stopped and the moon illuminated the angry mouths and murderous eyes. Warren Turned the key, the engine coughed and sputtered. He could see their tattered loincloths and their fetid breath hung in the chill air. “I know she’s dead, but if you don’t start we’re both going to die.” It seemed logical to convince the car to turn over.
A creature growled and raised a bow and arrow made of sharpened bone and drew the string back. Warren took a second to remember how Melanie would start the vehicle. Two pumps of the gas pedal, a tap on the dashboard, and he turned the key. The engine roared to life, and the lights illuminated the rest area like daylight.
The humanoids covered their eyes in the face of the radiant bulbs. Warren put the car in drive and trampled the gas pedal. The car sputtered and stalled. “What is wrong with you?” he shouted. He repeated the start-up process, and the car groaned back to life. “Let’s try this again.” Warren put the car in drive and slowly pressed the accelerator down, the car lurched forward, and rolled. He took it nice and slow until he hit the highway and the rest area vanished from the rearview mirror.
Warren held back the torrent of emotions deep inside of him. He decided now was not the time to open the floodgates. A flash of red light caught his attention, He looked down at the dash, The fuel sign neared the empty mark. Warren resisted the urge to bang his head on the steering wheel, what else could go wrong?
He took it nice and slow, as Warren had never driven a car before. He watched the side of the road for signs. Ten minutes later a sign that said Fox Creek twenty-eight km, flashed by the car. Warren stared at the fuel gauge and sighed. “Fox Creek it is.”
The rickety old station wagon pulled into Fox Creek on a wing and prayer. The gas light began to blink erratically. Warren felt like someone pulled the rug out from under his sense of hope because Fox Creek looked like a warzone. Overturned cars with crushed windshields and crimson trails ended at the tree line. The atmosphere in the vehicle wasn’t much better. Warren tried to keep his mind off the dead body in the trunk area. “Mom, I don’t want to stop here. Whatever happened in Edmonton is happening all over. You always knew what to do. I don’t.” The car sputtered and coughed, just as he pulled into the gas station, and great tufts of smoke billowed from under the hood. Warren surmised the old station wagon refused to live on without his mom. Dim lights watched o
Nobody likes to wait. Yet people dedicate whole rooms to the activity. It may not be an uncomfortable chair at the doctor's office, but a stolen car with a dead body in the backbeats the chair by a mile. One second can feel like an eternity. Warren is well acquainted with the phenomenon. His night went beyond the gates of hell, to space, where nothing stretches into an endless void. Warren desires one thing: to open the floodgates of his emotional dam and let every go at once. He wanted to scream about Melanie's death, brag about his victory over the terrors at the rest stop, and astonish people with his exploits at the gas station. He looked at the time on his mother's smartphone. Two minutes passed since the last time he looked at it. He busied his mind with the events
Secrets are horrible things. People have to keep them. In the end, they serve little purpose unless you are throwing a surprise birthday party. The words of the creature haunted Warren, “I’m you.” The raptor yellow eyes invaded his thoughts and distracted him at all hours of the day. He chose not to tell Nerea. The day started at the breakfast table. Fresh coffee dropped steadily into the decanter, Warren stared at it with sleep-deprived eyes. Since the last dream, he developed a fear of falling asleep. The sizzle of the frying pan promised bacon would arrive at the table. “How are you doing this morning, guapito?” Nerea asked. Warren enjoyed her accent, but it did not replace his mother's cheerful whistling as she prepared for the day. On some days, Warren swore t
Secrets are horrible things. People have to keep them. In the end, they serve little purpose, unless you are throwing a surprise birthday party. The words of the creature haunted Warren, “I’m you.” The raptor yellow eyes invaded his thoughts and distracted him at all hours of the day. He chose not to tell Nerea. The day started at the breakfast table. Fresh coffee dropped steadily into the decanter, Warren stared at it with sleep-deprived eyes. Since the last dream, he developed a fear of falling asleep. The sizzle of the frying pan promised bacon would arrive at the table. “How are you doing this morning, guapito?” Nerea asked. Warren enjoyed her accent, but it did not replace his mother's cheerful whistling as she prepared for the day. On some days, Warren swore the birds would sit by the window to croon along with the music. “I’m still having
Funerals the farewell party for people unable to enjoy them. Although with the return of magic, maybe the dead did creep up on the graveyards to get one last look at their loved ones before they moved on to the next adventure. Warren believes the previous statement to be true. He and Nerea were the only two present at the somber affair. The return of magic wrought great changes in society. Warren did not like any of them. The latest change came on the way home after the service. “In other news, the government of Canada has passed a law requiring any peoples with magical gifts to be registered and tested. When asked if the law infringed on human rights, Prime Minister Helios responded with, “We have laws to govern firearms, people with magic are walking firearms waiting to go off by accident. We in Ottawa must consider what is good for the whole.” Nerea turned the radio off and let sile
Time is a cruel mistress. It uses things and leaves them behind in the sea of what once was. Eidola, (plural for eidolon) fits into this category. The phenomenon comes from a singular area of the world, the ancient city of Troy. Warren doesn’t know it yet, but he is a descendant of the first eidolon wielder, Helen of Troy. Nerea covered her mouth and whispered a prayer. Plume continued to watch the bestial energy as Warren walked out of the circle. “Warren how are you feeling?” Plume shouted. While the eidolon provided Warren with enhanced attributes. It came at a terrible price. The eidolon, starved for life, grappled with his mind and he fell to his knees thick beads of sweat dripped down the pale forehead, “This thing wants to wear me like a suit. How do I turn it off?” his hands clapped the side of his head, and he grimaced. Nerea shook Plume in panic
The Dodge Charger rolled through the Caribou Interior, of British Columbia. Nerea decided to take Highway Sixteen. Once upon a time logging trucks and heavy machinery ruled the area. Government legislation changed all that. The logging industry took a nasty downturn in the ’90s and many towns suffered the consequences. The highway itself was a curiosity. Among the hills and valleys, ghostly figures floated on the shoulder of the lonely stretch of road. Their incorporeal bodies mimicked their death state. The visceral display added a heaviness to the interior. The engine revved into high gear and Nerea sped up. Plume gripped the handle on the roof. His knuckles were white, “Why did you have to take Highway Sixteen?” The Seelie spent much of t
The roads made Plume queasy. Warren and Nerea teased him a little about it before he passed out. “Wake me up when we reach Houston,” He curled up in the backseat and passed out. The trip took longer thanks to dense fog. The headlights barely penetrated the thick wall of mist, and Nerea grew more frustrated with the lack of vision. “What is with this fog? When will it end?” her teeth were clenched, and her head practically rested on the steering wheel. Warren placed a hand on Nerea’s arm, “What is with you? Ever since we left the gas station you’ve been different.” He hated seeing her like this. It reminded him of his mom lounging around in her sweatpants. “I hate this whole trip. I used to tease Melanie that she bra