Malcolm Shield

China dug through his plastic action figures looking for the black one with silver trim. The one that looked like, but due to licensing restrictions couldn't be called Malcolm Shield. He took the figure to his desk, a plain door on file cabinets type that span a whole side of the room. Large but mostly unusable because of the sheer volume of paraphernalia used to mimic his favorite Defender.

His parents wanted China to be a researcher or even weapons engineer. They wanted their only son to live on. Too many children died young. Many in an action on the enclave. China was special in that he had no siblings. An odd thing in a time when keeping women pregnant meant survival. 

Malcolm Shield was old for a Defender. Almost 36. Most had the honor of death in battle. Malcolm had honor of wins. He could kill a squad of men or Shoan with his blessed blade. Admittedly it was unfair but to be honorable Malcolm Shield always attacked from the front. Before pulling his sword the wanted to look the enemy in the eyes. 

Malcolm Shield was a god among men and China wanted to be him. He was speaking at the market today. To tell the people of the Jantwe subclave to send more sons. A meaningless call but one to keep people believing they had a choice. They didn't. Even China knew this. Sending sons and barren daughters to battle was compulsory for the survival of the people and also it was the law. No one broke the law. They all knew what was at stake. 

Jantwe bordered the outer wall. They had front row view to the battles and he personally saw his hero Malcolm Shield on the battle field. He dug through his desk drawers found the extra gluey glue and stuck the figure that legally was not Malcolm Shield to a board counted to thirty-dead-like-a-Shoans, tucked it under his arm and ran to the meeting field. 

It was spectacular. Malcolm Shield seemed brighter and bigger in real life. People cheered and hooted. They were as ecstatic as China. Then a scream. Three figures could be seen sliding down the inner wall. A Shoan and two of his human pets. Malcolm leaped off the dais and ran to intercept. The crowd made it impossible for the Defender to defend. China watched him try to circle people and how he had to keep picking people up so they wouldn’t be trampled. 

He wanted to be Malcolm so he was going to act like him. He had no fighting experience but he could help pick people up. He chased after Malcolm and did his best to help. 

The venom of the Shoan was fast. People would with in seconds start to fight their own kind. You could see the fear in their eyes as they did. China had never been this close. Children not trained in control fell fast to the call and started attacking. Malcolm didn't wait he began cutting them down. He had to. They would continue to kill or capture for the dark creature. This one was a rare red. A female. It was going to make a nest. It needed solders. 

It infected several dozen before Malcolm could reach the first. China had stopped trying to help and just followed. The two humans that came with the Shoan were long infected. When other defenders started appearing they fought back. Able to fight with awareness they killed without remorse. They used people as shields and as weapons. The few strikes taken by the possessed didn’t seem to even phase them. 

Finally Malcolm Shield was able to reach the fight at the Shoan Queen. She had no more fodder to infect and no more patience. She leaped at the Defenders ripping them apart. No weapon seemed to touch her. Malcolm Shield went first to the possessed he sheathed his sword and fought them hand to hand. 

The most noble thing to do for the long fallen. Fight them with honor. He finally killed the second man but as he did the Shoan Queen landed on him. Her ichorous blood dripping freely and she bit. China saw his hero’s eyes go wide then fall. 

China was over this. He never wanted to see another battle much less be in one. How did just one Shoan do so much damage. No he wanted nothing to do with any of it any more. Then he saw the Queen turn towards him. He had no where to go running wouldn’t take him anywhere. Then Malcolm turned on the queen. The possession was fast and he was fighting it. Malcolm took out the sword starred at the queen and let her come to him. He lifted the hilt and she ran into the blade and fell.

China ran to Malcolm he could see the fear and the struggle. “let me help” he said. That’s when Malcolm did something unexpected, he relaxed. 

Malcom relaxed and handed China the sword. The sword had no blade… no blade at all. Hundreds of people were cut down. So afraid of the sword and the word of the man, who was a good fighter China saw first hand, they succumb to the the blade of instant death. 

China hesitated but saw blood dripping from Malcom’s mouth. He was bitting his tongue. China took the hilt. Malcolm grabbed China’s face. Hard. He stared in China’s eyes and the hilt got heavy and warm. China shoved the hilt to Malcolm’s chest feeling the blade cut through sinew and bone. Malcolm’s eyes rolled back and he died.

Other’s cleaned the mess. The bodies, now infected had to be burned and disposed of out side the walls. This was matter that couldn’t be returned to the cycle. But China just sat there. Sword of instant death in his hands and his hero next to him. Gone.

Nel and The Eternal Library

Nel looked through the book of books, flipping page after page. Each item written in a clean and steady script. They made her eyes water. The words looked like they wanted to leap off the page ready to be of service. They flowed up and to the side stopping only when she thought she saw something interesting. Thousands of titles a second flowed before her. Each page turn taking her to a new idea.

“There seems to be more lore than history. Do any of them repeat?" she asked.

The man shaped thing she'd come to call Ink looked over. Several voices from several directions spoke. "No"

She looked at him for a moment. The dark eyes in ink black skin on a mouthless but strong face looked back at her. "Oh." She said suddenly and turned back to the book flipping another page. "It would explain the massive number of titles."

“Mysterious works mix with mundane," Ink spoke the cacophony of voices drove toward her and around her, "Some were written, some spoken, some were never even noticed but believed in. Each title tells the tail of the person who lived it." With so many words the voices became a tad discordant one voice trailing several words behind by the end.

"It's all autobiographical?" she asked.

"Not all. Water ship down has eight hundred thirty two versions. Created by those who believe it but read it differently or heard a different story."

"They believe a rabbit can talk?"

"They believe in the heart of the story, they took it in so deep that they began to write it while they read it. They let it write a bit of themselves."

"Oh" She didn't really understand but getting Ink excited about a topic made it hard to understand. Sometimes voices would be trailing him for hours. Enough to give her a headache.

"You think the way out of this building is in this book then?" She asked.

"No."

"Then why did you give it to me?”

"You stated plainly that you quit. This will help you pass time."

She looked at him, he at her. "Fine."

She began to look for names. Her Mother's, Father's, and the dog's. Each yielded hundreds of entries. Finally one name. A slight misspelling of the name her grandmother called her. It seemed a little more important than the others. The book was old. Very old. according to the record number it would be far in the back. She wrote down the name and number and handed it to Ink. With a nod he walked off to get the book. 

To pass the time to Ink’s return she went to the map room. A book there was like the one in the other room, this one led to scrolls and folded maps. She assumed every map ever drawn or created was in this sister room. Like all of them they seemed to intertwine, rooms much bigger than logical space would allow. Many filled what should have been the same space.

She sat at the table littered with papers and scrolls, and opened the book. It listed places and times and phases of moons and so many different places she could be, but here she was stuck.  As always the map it led her to showed her her school, her house the mall. It showed all the places she wanted to go to not the way out. A map to the mall would start in an arbitrary spot, and then twist and turn going around construction or sometimes cutting through someplace like her school, or the Miller’s house. 

She even did her best to clear her mind and think of only the door that would let her out.  Nothing. Finally she decided it was time to get ready for sleep. But first she needed a snack. She didn’t know how but reading kept her from getting hungry. It actually nourished her. She went back to the book of stories and started to think of the sappy romance dramas her Aunt was so fond of but instead it gave names and locations of of things that sounded like children’s stories. She read a few then the words wouldn’t stop. The flow and somehow the script seemed to be angry. She turned the page to to dark names and then Grimm cleared itself. Several more then a page full of Grimm. so she went to the earliest. That one didn’t seem right She then reached the 22nd Brothers Grimm. this one not rotten or copied by the brother’s.  As luck would have it She could reach this one in about an hour. Last time she sent Ink to the flor where the book he was getting for her it took him nearly two days to get back. 

She headed down the hall that would take her to the primary hall. The one that lead to all other halls. At the entrance of the hall she wanted stood another black figure. This one she called India. It was a female form. Some how she knew what Nel was looking for, and if ink wasn’t there India would lead Nel to the correct room. 

A whisper started a different voice saying the same thing started and another until several were gathering to the point of maximum understanding. “Hello Nel, looking for some valuable sustenance?”

“Yes This odd version of The Brothers Grimm.”  She held out the paper to India who didn’t look at it but turned and walked up the wrong hall. She led Nel to a different Grimm. One that didn’t fit the inscription but had the right number. She thanked the woman and walked hurriedly back to the hall she thought she was supposed to go down. It was quite a long walk. Her way was blocked twice by other ink black beings. She politely excused herself and walked around them. 

The book she was looking for was missing. 

She walked back to her table. And began to look through the book that India had given her. Jet, stood by the door something Ink used to do. The book was not what she wanted. He looked back in the book and held the number in her hand. The book didn’t show. She flipped the pages. until she was almost to the back of the book. She’d never been to the back of the book.  Turning the pages never advanced toward the front of back. Even if she opened toward the back it just seemed to stay there or some how balance out with equal pages to each side. The book wanted her to see something. Where she ended up was a nearly black sheet. names and titles so crammed together they fought for visual space. 

How am I supposed to read this? she thought to herself. Then she noticed a pattern. A solid unmoving set of black on black shapes. The title so much bigger than the description she could barely make that out, but nothing else was legible. She realized that this was the lost book section. Lost to the universe. letters, maps, and any other written record that has been lost to the world ended up in this section. 

Another day passed she read the book and called on Jet to get her the whole library of Judy Blume YA books. Then Again Maybe I Won’t was one of her favorites. It made her feel a little dirty.  She continued to study and read. Ink still hadn’t returned. 

Finally she began to look for individual stories. She sent each librarian to get names like the one she’d sent Ink to find. India returned too quick. So she sent her on a longer errand. and then with four stories on four papers she went to find them. On the third story India appeared.

“You might get lost.” She said and the world felt like it was spinning. “We need to be with you so that doesn’t happen.”

Feeling like she was going to pass out she asked India to take her back to the reading room. As they walked Nel asked if there were any books that Judy Bloom wrote without writing them. The answer was yes. 

“Take me there first. I want to read something no one else ever has.”

A slight change in India’s demeanor and the room settled and they headed to the hall with the secret books. Soul Books. 

With secret book in hand Nel sat at the table and opened a small packet of paper and read the Grimm story. It was a retelling of the Minotaur and how he was trying to help by changing the path of the string laid by Theseus . The Minotaur was leading him to a land of everlasting joy.  

This was not written by the Grimm Bothers, but had the same style. The second was much the same about a man following a trail of faith. Why was it so important for them to hide these from her. Even sin by destroying a book. This was the refuge of all knowledge. How could they ever think to destroy a book.

Nel went back to the maps and noticed a similarity to the paths. no matter the destination they were very close, not exact but close to the way each other one was drawn. She took one and looked at it. The Mall. She had three maps, all three  were different but they lead to a different door each. So she looked and according to the map the first landmark was The Dairy, a milk store not far from the mall. Out of the room was the agricultural hall. She took it and then to Midas and main. She followed it and finally became lost at the car wash. There wasn’t a car wash there that she remembered. From one point to the next following the map and doing her best to match real world places with comparable items in the library.

If she missed it or couldn’t find it the map would fail and disintegrate. Once she’d almost made it to the destination but then she became lost. She wasn’t too worried one of the librarians would find her. A day passed and no one showed. Not too worried since she never needed food but there was a weird taste in her mouth and she started to look dirty, dark. She realized her skin was turning black. The food was the ink in the books. She was becoming a Librarian. 

In the middle of the second day of being lost Ink found her and pulled her back. He gave her the book. She didn’t want to read it. She needed to get out before she changed to a point she couldn’t come back. She was down to three maps. 

Ink tried to get her to stop telling him what she was doing but it was too late. What he knew they all knew and india decided to not leave her side. They never physically stopped her so she continued with her quest. Two maps left she started down the path recognizing several of the markers from before and began to understand how the library thought.  

According to this map she was almost there so she turned and said good bye to Ink, stuck her tongue out at India and turned a corner. A glow beckoned her forward. The light began to look like doors. She found doors. They looked like the were Dillards doors. She opened them and heard canned music and smelled a stale crash of perfume. The maps were maps to the exact places she asked for

It's just a show I watch

“What the hell is your problem?” Kelly yelled 

“Don’t let the door slam” Jeffery said nearly dropping the packages he held.

“Who cares about the door. Why are you being such a dick?”

“How am I being a dick?”

“I went out of my way, I worked for weeks to put that party together.”

“I said thank you. Help me with these.”

“No.”

“Kelly I can’t even see the table.”

“Fuck you.”

Jeffery looked at her between the handles of a gift bag and let go. The bags and gifts landed with a crash of breaking glass.

“What the hell?” She yelled again. 

“I asked for your help you told me to fuck off so fuck you.”

“God you are such a child.”

“I got the message, or did you mean something else by throwing me a power ranger party.”

“YOU LOVE THE POWER RANGERS!”

“No I don’t. I like watching the second stupidest show on earth, its funny. I don’t Love it. You threw that party to embarrass and shame me for something I do that doesn’t require fermented hops” 

“I wanted to make it something you liked.”

“I know you believe that but then why didn’t you dub me a Bronie, I occasionally watch Friendship is Magic?”

“You are not gay.”

“Really? That’s your reasoning I’m not gay so I can’t be a Bronie? I knew you to be callus but a homophobe?”

“You don’t give a shit about anybody but you do you?” Kelly accused

“Don’t put this back on me. I was embarrassed but I didn’t say anything, I did my best to keep smiling.”

“You told Dave the party was idiotic.”

“I was wrong.”

“That’s supposed to make it better, you telling me you were wrong?”

“No, I was wrong to think Dave would keep his mouth shut.”

Kelly pushed Marvin away from the whiskey that was coming from a broken bottle somewhere in the pile of gifts on the floor.

“That was the only good gift of the bunch.” Jeffery chinned at the puddle on the floor, “and the cat gets to enjoy it more than I do.”

“You don’t even drink.”

“yes but it was the only one that realized that I was a grown man.”

“You said you didn’t care that you knew people knew you watched The Power Rangers”

“I don’t, but you just made them believe it was my obsession or some passion.”

“It isn’t?”

“NO!” He put his hands on his face and growled. “I watch it after a tough day dealing with fucking red tape and emotional and angry people. Do you know how many kids get lost in the system? How many are treated as animals? Marvin is treated better than they are. People, good people want to adopt them but can’t because a cousin is in jail or some dumb shit like that. There is no reason behind most of the rules. Good kids with so much potential are going into gangs and crime because they can’t believe that this world will work for them. Of course I watch the power rangers. The good and bad guys are easy to identify and everyone is kind.”

“Then why were you such a dick at the party?”

“How was I a dick?”

“You were rude. You gave all the gifts looks.”

“Looks? What kind of looks?”

“Like the smelled bad.”

“Well I’m sorry, I tried to be kind.”

“Carrie was hurt.”

“Carrie needs to see a therapist.” 

“She’s my cousin.”

“And that changes anything?”

“She gave you a full set.”

“No she gave me five colors Three from R.PM. one from Nija storm, which I’ll admit is 

impressive, and one that looked like it was some dollar store knock off.”

“She tried and you just had to tell her it was wrong.”

“She got a transforming robot.”

“It looked like the others.”

“It was a robot, and it was orange. I won’t get into how wrong that is.”

“See you do care, you just wanted to be a dick.”

“Yes I care, if I didn’t I wouldn’t watch it. I by no means like it enough to want toys or for others to think I’m obsessed”

“You keep saying you don’t care but now that I’ve tried to give you something it all of a sudden matters what people think?”

“It’s always mattered how people treat me. I’m like everyone else, I want them to like me for me you gave them something to hold over my head and from now on I’m going to be the guy who likes Power Rangers”

“I don’t get what’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, if I liked Power Rangers.”

“But you just said you do.”

“Fine I’ll make sure I’ll throw you a big bang party, tell them that it’s the only show you watch.”

“I like Big Bang Theory.”

“But are you obsessed?”

“Of course not.”

“It’s all you watch. you have action figures and all the tees that Sheldon wears.”

“I do not.”

“Until tonight I didn’t have a single Power Ranger anything.”

“You had that sticker.”

“A sticker, that’s all, A sticker put in a gift as a Joke by a friend who thought it would be funny.”

“you kept it.”

“I kept the joke, the gesture of friendship.”

“I can’t do this you aren’t making any sense. I think you are just being an ass.”

“Fine. Thank you for the party and for helping me to realize that I’m just a joke to you. I think I’ll let you clean up the mess and sleep on the couch It’s my birthday and I’m just a child after all.”

Learned talent:SCU

No one in my family could ever cast a spell, enchant a sword or rock, we even got simple superstition wrong. To have Talent in my family was un-heard of. I knew this but I tried anyway. I was given fifty pence at a fair to spend on treats and wondered into the Magi stalls. I just wanted to look. 

I never saw such amazing things. Necklaces that glowed, barrettes and hair bands that kept water from falling directly on the wearer. One stall sold soap that claimed to keep a man from sweating another had shoes that would fix your posture. 

My dad caught me looking at a fortune teller's tent. "you goin' in?"

I felt like I'd been caught eating the offerings at the family alter. I just shook my head.

"If you want, go for it, but two words of advice." My dad's advice was always amazing. "First when choosing a teller never go to the most posh or the most rundown. The posh will just take your money and not tell  you anything but what you want to hear. They don't have power." He took in the surrounding tellers then added, "This one you're looking as seems okay, you chose well."

My chest swelled. Any time my dad praised me was like Hamnset himself kissing my feet. 

"Second, he continued, "If you go to a real one and he tells you, you are locked in. This might not be bad, but I, think a man should choose his fait and damn, what Hamnset thinks."

The mild blasphemy was my dad's only vice. He never liked people telling him what to do, and what did he care what The Creator thought, if it was up to us then we needed to choose and if not it didn't matter what we chose so why not do what we want. "A man finds his own path. His family will always be a home."

We looked at each other, I think he was taking my measure to see what I was thinking so I stood there trying to be big. He smiled and mussed my hair. "Meet me at the fights at noon." I looked up at him and shook my head.

"Talkative man, your pa." I jumped and saw a short man only about a foot taller than me, His wrinkly face and wild white hair contrasted greatly with his clear almost emerald eyes. He finished clearing the tent door to reveal a Do-shin robe the marks worked into it looked like swirling vines.

"Is he good?" I asked. pointing to the tent.

The man looked back at the tent coming to a conclusion said, "I'm one of the best. I can tell you anything you want me too. I prefer the truth, most don't."

He had such a kind demeanor. I almost gave in. 

"No, I think you should take you're pa's advice. I could set you on a great path but He believes in you and I think you should follow that."

I just nodded and smiled. I started to turn and then asked. "Is Do-shin fun?" 

He laughed. "come back after the fights. I won't charge but I think you'll want to know more."

He then with out another word he walked over to the offal cart to get a sausage. I turned and pocketed my 50¢.

My dad had a sausage and a beer for me when I found him at the fights. The fair was the only time I could drink the stuff. I liked it, not the beer but the fact Dad would treat me like a man. It was a small cup and have since found out that it was watered down, but I was drinking beer with dad. Osmund, Tate, and Hector, my brothers, were all older and didn't want to stay with dad. They had girls, so did Darla, Dad didn't like it but tried to love her. The other girls were with mom. so I got dad to myself. 

He didn't ask if I had seen the Fortune teller or not. It was my thing and he let me have it.

The fights however were amazing. There were exhibitions of sword fights and wrestling. Then the main event. A battle for the prize. They called the fighters and the second, the challenger was the old man. 

He did the most amazing things. He fended off all magical and physical attacks with a simple filck of the wrist or a kick. He did these fire fist things that burnt one mans clothes clean off. He never failed. The crowd was angry. This little old man beating men twice his size. 

He only took 10% of the prize money and gave the rest of it to the nearby orphanage. I was so impressed.

As predicted I was back at the tent. I kept ringing the bell but no one answered. I was getting frustrated when I heard "No one can answer if they aren't there." 

With a sigh, I turned and spouted a deluge of praise and awe. My dad just stood back and laughed. "What say you?" the old man said to my father.

"He's too young for any kind of study like that. Three years, if he's still interested I'm more an happy to let him be to his dreams."

"What say you?" 

I was torn, I wanted to know more and I wanted to do good by my dad. "Can you teach me anything while you're still here?"

He told me that I had to start with learning to cultivate my inner Szo. To learn the art I had to control my self. He sold me a book and showed me the basics of breath and then I never saw him again. The book, however, discussed the ideas of magic and flow. It started me on [] and forms of concentration. 

I did them most every day for the next three years. Each year I went to the fair to find the mysterious man.  With no note of him I became frustrated and stopped. until I was in my mid teens, a school opened and Pete and I enrolled. My father couldn't afford tuition so I hired on as janitor.  Pete's family were able to pay for him so he'd hang out and talk to me while I cleaned.  Sometimes he'd quiz me while I swept or raked the athlete field and cleaned out the animal mess that would creep it's way in. 

One night Pete was fuming about something that was in fact quite fair but he didn't think so. I started to show him some [] and he calmed down. We continued to do this for the next several months until on night Pete began to glow. He started to leap and bounce like a character in one of the stories in books. He had talent, he confessed.

"That's why my family sent me here. They want me to become a mage."  It made sense. I still wanted to learn how the old man did what he did.  

Pilla saw us that night, He'd been smoking on the roof of the building —Probably something he pilfered from the suply closet— and challenged Pete to a fight the next day. Pete started to resist but fell for the cunning use of the word chicken and attacked. Pilla, who seemed to have a pretty good handle of his skill, was literally wiping the floor with Pete. This was funny to be sure but when pete was thrown agains the wall with a crack it was time to stop it. I jumped in and using a focus technique stood in front of Pilla. My heart was still racing but I had focus and with skill I didn't know I had I fought the creep. I was hit hard several times. finally I gathered energy and imagined fire. The world began to freeze and I woke in the infirmary. 

I heard my father talking. School was more than a day's Journey so I had no idea how long I'd been out. 

"I've never seen talent in him. Our family hasn't had talent as far back as we can remember."

"Well the Stuart boy has frostbite on most of his exposed skin, we were lucky to have a Healer visiting. It was a powerful blast."

From there I was given test after test, never being able to produce even the smallest of magic fields. I was test negative for power. A recruiter came because he'd heard of the incident and wanted to see for himself. 

"How do you think this happened?" He asked.

I showed him. I gathered power and not knowing what to do with it i tossed it in the fire place instantly freezing the small burn in there. Embarrassed I hid my hands.

That is a rare talent. What power forms do you know?"

I had to ask what he meant and then I showed him the Seven Points and told him of the book. 

"Who's the author?"

"I think it says Weenta Szau."

That is a rare book. Do you still have it?"

"The goat ate it." I half lied. The goat had started eating it but I found it. Very little was ruined. I put in notes to replace the few pages that were missing.

"Shame."

He talked with my father and i was on my way to Lupido Caster University.

Then There Was Terri :SCU

It was noon and  the trees had that quality to them that all trees get during a full moon.  I was heading to the other side. The point where the University grounds ended and the wild forest began. It was still safe several hundred yards in and was even safer during daylight but we were still forbidden to go beyond the Second Line. Of course that meant that everyone did. 

I was heading to my favorite hill. The one I practiced my Seven Points and rooting. I also did homework and took naps out here. It was my hill. Until one day I saw a creature of astounding presence floating about three span above the ground. Her hair flowed in the energy she was moving around her. It was fantastic. 

I coughed and she fell from her thought perch.

“Damn.” a voice much deeper than I expected said.

“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt but wanted to let you know that you are on my hill.”

“Your hill?” The blond hair rose to show that it was attached to a pale white forehead  with some of the deepest blue yes. Soft and sweet. A straight nose and the neatest patch of stubble I’d ever seen. I began to wonder if I’d switch sides. This man was beautiful.

“Um. Y-Yes, my hill. I come here every day.” I tried to shaw off the urge to flirt. 

“I see and this is the ‘finders keepers’ law then?”

“Well I’m sure I leave my energy here. With an amazing Zoan like that I’m sure you’d felt it.”

He looked at his hands rubbed his stubble and grabbed his crotch then shook his head. “Yeah, I really did.”

He seemed frustrated rather than angry.

“Well tell you what, you Zoan with me and I’ll leave this hill to you in the future.”

It had been awhile since I sat with anyone and this would be embarrassing since the most I ever floated was about a hand’s width and that was after a weekend retreat.  “Well I’m still not all that good”

“That’s fine. I only need to give your energy back.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Trust me.”

“Okay. Then you want to get a drink at McLain’s?”

“Um.” he seemed a bit worried. “I’m not gay.”

“you have the style to be but neither am I.” I wasn’t going to say that what I was feeling made me wonder. I’d never felt this way around another guy.

The next day I woke to a very loud “What the fuck?” I jumped and almost immediately fell back clutching my head. The pounding  was excruciating.  I nudged Terri and saw what Pete, my roommate was so shocked about. One of the nicest examples of manhood standing proud against a six-pack that you only see in pictures.

“Oh, this. It’s not what you think.” 

“Dude, what ever depravity you want to experiment with is up to you.” Pete said covering his eyes and walking back to the common. 

I jumped out of bead looked at terri then decided that if I was going to try to be okay with it then I’d be okay with it. So I kissed the forehead exposed between the locks of gold and pulled on my robe. 

“Pete, it’s not what you think.” I said.

“Hey, do what you want.” He didn’t even look at me.

“Oh Fuck.” I heard from the bedroom.

I turned to see Terri dashing around the room putting on pants and shirt, grabbed his boots and headed out the door. He stopped and said “I had a wonderful time last night. If I can shake this off I’ll be playing at three o’clock,” he paused and added, “if you want to come.” and was gone before I could respond.

“You really fucked the shit didn’t you.”

what? “What?” Then it struck me, of course he’d think that. “No, nothing happened Just some kissing and touching. Hell I was so drunk I could barely get half mast.”

“So you popped your cherry then?” He gaged a little. 

I realized his conclusion was the natural one. I’d think the same too and even though I’m sure I’d be a little uncomfortable who am I to judge. As for the Cherry reference, “Wow, I knew you tended toward the conservative but I didn’t think you’d be an ass.” I didn’t even put on shoes I just left to shower.

Pete kept giving me the cold shoulder and stopped inviting me to things. Terri had a full pass. Fraternities and sororities were always happy to invite us. I was worried that pete was too much of a jerk get over what he saw but as Terri put it “He needs time, and who knows maybe I’ll fix my problem and he’ll see the real me.”

“We’ve been friends since middle school. Even before that, Our fathers worked neighboring farms. It’s just frustrating to think that he doesn’t want to give me a chance to explain.”

“you said he’d be at the Zappa Zappa Chew party tonight? She said.” 

“Yeah. Well keep your energy off of me and we’ll see him tonight.”

So that’s what we did. Terri was amazing. Sure it was weird waking up to not only a guy but such a vision of a guy, but there was nothing wrong with it, was there?”


I made it to the frat house a few minutes early, grabbed a beer and started talking to Morgan. Morgan was like Terri, they’d even tried dating but all they really had in common was their affliction. Right now Morgan was filling out her blouse quite nicely, her trousers were tight around the hips but as expected she was holding her tosser ball. A group of guys warding off unwanted advances. 

“What’s with the boobs?” I asked.

“Stella.” She said.

“The Stella? Volures?”

“The one and only.”

“Damn. I hear she rides the fence.”

“She rode my post all right.”


“Wow. So how long?” I asked waving at her shape.

“Never know with the big O.”  A few practices and some Zoan mediation near Jazmin should clear it. 

“Well as long as you’re good for the game.” I said.

“Nah, I can still play. They know it’s an affliction. I’ll just have to Patrol instead of Back. No big.”

It hurt a bit. Morgan had a group around him that understood and supported him. So did Terri and her group. Me, I had Pete and he won’t even talk to me. Dick.

Pete came up the group, not realizing I was there. He greeted the guys, tried to flirt with Morgan, who told him in so certain words that she would cut his parts off.  He barely gave me a chin greeting. Then Terri walked up. Her long blond hair and soft eyes. And that amazing figure. 

“You done with your experiment?” he said.

“No, Pete. I’m not experimenting. This is Terri, I tried to tell you she was the guy you saw in my room.”

“What?”

“She has Andromitosis.” Said Morgan.

“Ah that’s gross.” Pete said.

“Well you don’t have to deal with it so don’t worry about it.”

“No man, I get that they can’t help it but not knowing what you’re going to fuck?” 

Even for Pete this was a bit much. Then I noticed his eyes. I had to stop the guys from beating the crap. I quietly cast a suppresser and he changed quickly, “I mean… Um.” He looked lost. Then at me knowing that I knew he’d tripped again, “I gotta go.” and he left. 

The guys started talking about him, I wasn’t sure what I should say I could defend him, but he wasn’t that far from sober so he wasn't too far from normal.  A suppressor would only last a few seconds anyway, it only faked sobriety so he'd be back to his full ass self in moments. Better he stay away.

“I’m glad I stole your hill.” The words snapped me out of my head.

“You are?”

“yeah, It’s hard for people to deal with my issue. You stood up for me with your friend. I see how it hurts.” she grabbed my arm a little tighter .

“Pete's being an ass, of course I'd stand up for you. I also need to stand up for him. He's having issues and isn't seeing too straight. So, i'll give a little leeway." I squinted through a tiny gap between my forefinger and thumb.

 

“Well lets dance and have fun. I spent the day with the girls did a group Zoan then talked sexploits. Who know maybe you’ll wake with me in the morning.”

I smiled from my gut, “That sounds wonderful and hey, the other you isn’t so bad. He’s a good guy. You may not realize it but you pretty much go full dude. He, you, are a great friend. Maybe Pete will get that.”

Terri and I spent the rest of the year together. She found an experimental treatment in the Orient, and left at the end of term, but I’m sure she’ll be back.  Pete? Well you know about Pete.

At University: my adventures as SCU

The potion bubbled and steamed. I didn’t think it should be green. At least not that color of green. The best I can define it as was a brilliant pea soup. Phlegm that had an internal light. I also didn’t think that it should smell of roasted peppers. It made me hungry.

“Well,” Pete said, “I think this should do it.”

I looked over the ingredients, err, components — Madame Lupido hated the word “ingredient”. “This is not a recipe.” She’d say. I’d disagree but no to her face — finding everything satisfactory.  We’d done everything right, as far as we knew and this was going to be amazing; if it worked.

After the required resting time we made the priming circle and did our dance, err, ritual  maneuvers,  and the contents of the cauldron rose spread and landed in the circle. We both put a single drop of blood into the now vacant pot and opened out minds. I stood there waiting. Pete began to moan. Then I felt it too. My body began to tingle. It was like tying a string too tight around a finger then letting it loose, only on my entire body. My head began to swirl and light trailed. I was not happy.

After several minutes I saw the demon. It wasn’t that big. Not that it mattered what size it was, a demon actually had no size or actually no shape. it instead was what we made it  to deal with in our reality. My energies didn’t lile this thing. Pete and I gathered our selves fin time to hold the demon at bay and keep him from taking us over. Then Is rated to feel the happy. It was nice but I didn’t feel right. I didn’t like the off kilter feeling. I was done so I said my counter spell. The demon wavered stuck between my rejection and Pete’s desire to keep it around, then vanished.

“That was amazing!” Pete squealed after the energies dissipated.

I had to agree. I didn’t hate the feeling but I didn’t like it either.

We quickly gathered our supplies and stuffed the cauldron in the corner of the  room  and wondered out into the campus and to dinner. I was starving.

It would have been nice if Pete had stopped talking about it. He said he could still feel some of the effects. I could too and was a bit concerned. Tripping Demon is something we students are supposed to do. It’s part of our growing process, or so they say. This was just uncomfortable.

For days he tried to get me to go again. The ingredients were too expensive and besides as fun as it was it was also too disturbing for me.

It took almost a week before I really started to think heavily about summoning an Opyeit demon  again, he was even talking about getting Heru’win. He finally convinced me to summon Egst’asy. That was amazing and thoroughly disconcerting.

I got lost in spending time with Teressa and my studies. I’d made ia breakthrough in casting and sorcery. Turns out I’m  a rare algorplasm.  Frost fire is hard to do and I feel great doing it, exhausting. Pete is  pretty much a straight up agroplasm. I had to take extra hours at Brodricks to keep my self in supplies. So I didn’t really notice Pete.

I should have spent a little time on him. We were at McLain’s taking a break and chatting over  a few pints. Pete came it looking strange. He looked greasy. I offered to walk him home.  On the way he started to shake. His eyes started glowing and he grew. The demon was there.

I didn’t feel the hit or my feet leaving the ground. I did feel the rock I landed on. The white flash of my entire body wanting to scream passed in time for me to doge the greedy form of my friend passing.  He took in too much of the demon. He was possessed by it. The heat coming from him was intense.

I stumbled to my feet and began the quick grounding and energy building exercise so I could fight back.

I pulled my wand out of my wand pocket and cast a binding spell that failed completely on him. Next I swung the wand in a cutting motion it did nothing more than cut the clothes not pete.

Pete roared and in a move that seemed much to graceful sent a waft of green fire at me. I was too late casting the shield spell. It took and I only got mildly burned but my wand was toast. I ran right at him and dodged as he reached for me. A quick roll and I cast ice fire. I shouldn’t have but I was scared and it was the first thing to come to me. He blocked but like my shield attempt he took a lot of damage. I could see smoke rising from his arm. Steam actually, his heat and my cold.

We only fought for a few minutes but it felt like hours.

Finally  I let him catch me. He never cast when he could grab. When he did I flared my cold right into him. I dropped his core temp by a few degrees and he passed out.

He was fine but the demon had a hold of him and he’d have to fight it for ever. As long as he didn’t Trip again he’d be fine. The demon would call to it’s core, call for unity but it would overtake and kill Pete. I can’t imaging the struggle he has to go through but for now he’s fine and maybe in a few years the demon will be so diminished that he won’t have to fight the pull quite so hard.

You Can't Polish a Turd

I used to write because I wanted to express my grief. I wanted to show that I had suffered, was suffering. I believed that I had all the things a person needed to be a great writer. Then I did the stupid thing. I began to accept. I accepted that I was alone. Would be for the rest of my life. It’s not as pathetic as it sounds It’s hard and I’m sad but it it isn’t a tale of self pity at all.

I’m accepting that life will never look like I want it to. That is even worse than the ill perception of my aloneness. I say that because not being able to influence life to the direction I want  it to be is nothing more than terrifying for me. I also accept that there is no doubt that I suck at a person. 

Let’s talk about this last one.

Yesterday I was standing in line at StarFucks when I saw this lady, I’m not sure if you remember Henrietta Hippo, but if you do then I can easily say this was her. No really, this woman had to have a thyroid problem. Huge is an understatement. She kept sighing and gasping. I lost my desire for coffee at all. I was in line and I knew as soon as I could get my mind off of this woman I’d start to want my white caramel mocha, half the pumps. 

A normal person, whether or not they wanted to admit it or not, would have been disturbed by the sight. I order my beverage and listen closely to her order. A venti campfire Frappachino with whip and caramel.

Okay, This is very hypocritical of me but I began to get angry with her. I mean here this woman is dying before my eyes and she insists on continuing her plight. I had the gaul at my seventy extra to, while holding mine, look at the cup in her hand, yes I waited for her to get her order, and shake my head and say, “Really?” Then walk out. 

I sat down on a bench across the street. I had time before work and decided to sit for a while. She came out. Cane in one hand drink in the other. I noticed she was slouching a little more than before. She didn’t make it very far. She leaned against the wall between the StarFucks and Einstein’s and then threw the sugar bomb before sinking to the ground in tears. She cried these big heaving sobs. She kept touching her body and looking at herself. Her arms, her legs that couldn’t cross. Legs that people just stepped over as they walked by. She stopped the big sobs and sat there wiping her eyes every now and then.

I left my coffee on the bench and walked to work. I’m not going to laude the fact that I didn’t stop thinking of the woman all day. I mean I do know what she’s going through. How incredibly hard it is to stop the hunger. The evil nagging that haunts you all day long. How even if you are not hungry you need to eat because that is when you feel something other than the giant hole eating you. Maybe not. Maybe for her it’s something else but for me…

I know how it is. I’m not nearly as bad a she was but I know and still I did what I did. 

I can accept that I am shit in human form. Some people would like to say there is a reason and that if I could find the core pain I’d be able to heal and become a better person. Some say if I find Jesus. No a shit is a shit and I am one. So do I even deserve to have any blessings?

Regardless of what or why it is, I hold my self responsible for who I am.

It makes sense that I’m alone. I see myself choosing it actively and besides who wants someone who is as basically cruel as I am, cruel and cowardly. I could have apologized or helped her up. I could have even offered her my hot coffee to throw at me for being a hypocritical dick. Instead I stopped going there. It was my StarFucks — so named because they fired me for reporting that several of the employees were dumping the hard change in the tip jar instead of giving it to the customers — and now I go to a plain Starbucks a little further in the opposite direction just to make sure I never see her again.

I used to write because I wanted to express my grief. I wanted to show that I had suffered, was suffering. I believed that I had all the things a person needed to be a great writer. Then I did the stupid thing. I began to accept. I began to get clear that I don’t have grief. I have self pity and a sense of entitlement that borders, maybe even crashes through, narcissism. Now I write not to express my grief but instead to grieve my humanity. I have everything I need to write but it looks nothing like I thought it would.