Alternate worlds

"What do you mean you don't know who it was?" she asked.

Jumal sighed and rubbed his face. He had forgotten the girl's name. So many people to keep track of... "Do you know the name of every human on your planet?" he asked her condescendingly.

"But you're a god!" she protested. "And aren't there only five of you?"

"That you know of."

Jumal immediately regretted saying that, as he saw the joy and wonder blooming onto the girl's face. "You mean there are more?" she asked, bewildered at the idea.

"There are more than you can count," he said dismissively. "This is not the only world, and each world must have its gods."

The girl grabbed onto his arm, seemingly having forgotten about the numerous wounds that she had suffered in the carnage that had only hours before swept into their land, and which Jumal had only barely been able to hold at bay, thanks to the meddling the unknown god had done. It had known he would be there, and masked its presence. But Jumal knew the acts of a god when he saw them... "You have to tell me about them!" the girl exclaimed, bringing Jumal back to the present.

"There are too many to describe," Jumal said, shaking his head.

"Just tell me about some of them, then! I have to know what kind of things there are out there!"

"Why? You may never even be able to see them. They hold no relevance in your life at present, and I find it hard to believe they ever will."

The girl shook his arm, almost violently, and he suspected the movements was more aggravating to her than they were to him.

Jumal sighed and thought to himself for a moment. There were too many worlds to visit in one lifetime, even for a god. And so many whose differences were minuscule compared to this world...

"Imagine a world where colors are painted," he said after a long pause. The girl's eyes widened and she nodded vigorously. "They aren't just there. They aren't various textures. They are like paint on a canvas. Never quite consistent, but more vibrant than any natural thing in this world. They swirl together at times, and at others lie next to one another, sharp contrasts between them, giving depth and shape to that world.

"In a valley of greens and purples and blues sits a single tree. Maroons and browns crawl along each other up its trunk, until they reach the vibrant pinks and scarlets of its leaves, which are little more than circles surrounding the ends of the branches. Its shade falls down on the valley, but instead of darkening the land, it brightens, to become blinding yellow and rose. This spreads out like fire in the shade of the tree, and its edges fade back to the greens and blues of the surrounding hills.

"And just under this tree, stuck down halfway into the ground, is a cyan great sword, its sharp edges only amplified by the soft and rounded edges of the grass around it. It rises like a thorn from the ground, a marker left behind for unknown reasons."

The girl's eyes couldn't have been wider. "Is there really such a place?" she asked.

Jumal raised an eyebrow. "What possible reason could I have for lying about that?"

Paying the price

When Gerard woke up, he was in a black void that consumed everything, and he had no recollection of how he got there, what had come before, or if this was even an unusual thing. He had no memory. Just an understanding of what his name was. He floated along endlessly, not sure of what to think of what he was seeing, or rather, what he wasn't. With nothing to compare it to, everything around him seemed normal. In a life where nothing else had ever existed, why should he feel uncomfortable being alone? And yet, deep inside, there was an aching - and emptiness - that he couldn't explain.

Eventually he came across a face in the darkness. It was small, almost dainty, but its pupils were a bright red and burned with a light that was nearly blinding, but impossible to look away from. "Hello, Gerard," the face spoke to him with the voice of a young boy. "It seems you simply couldn't walk away from the carnage that you left behind. I suppose it is somewhat difficult, seeing as how there is nothing else left in this world anymore. Not after what you did."

Gerard blinked, looking at the face, unsure of what the words coming out of its mouth even meant. "Carnage?" he asked, unsure of what such a word could describe, and only further puzzled by the dirty feeling it left in his mouth, as if it were somehow displeasurable. "What I did? I don't understand."

The face laughed at him. The laugh was cold and sharp, and struck a nerve in Gerard's core. It made him want to strike out against the face, but something else in him told him not to. It told him that doing so would make things only worse. "Did you destroy your own memories along with the rest of this world, idiot?" the face mocked him. "You don't remember the vicious slaughtering you did? You killed everyone, Gerard. You killed everything. You left nothing behind in your wake. Every living thing you encountered, you erased. You took the wrong lessons to heart, and you paid the price for it."

Gerard looked around at the void. The face's words were raising something inside of him. Images of... something. He wasn't sure what they were. He couldn't bring them far enough forward to make them out. "Why would I do that?"

"Because you're an imbecile." The vitriol in the face's words was palpable. "A complete and utter buffoon that somehow convinced himself that death would bring life, and entrapment freedom."

Other faces. Creatures large and small. He hadn't known them. Not really. But they had attacked him... Hadn't they?

"Boy, I had you going though, didn't I? How many people came through before you that hadn't fallen for my words? What made you different? What part of your brain were you missing that made you believe me? Was it the same part that made you forget all that you had done?"

Gerard's fist clenched tight. He hadn't even realized that he had curled his fingers. Something in his heart was burning. Frustrated. Angry. "How do I make it come back?"

The face's laughter was so loud and sharp it made Gerard's ears ring. "After all you did, you want to bring it back? Fine. I can make it come back. But not without cost. Great cost. And even then, it will still be scarred by what you did. It may never fully recover."

"But it will be back, yes?"

"Yeah, sure, it'll be back. Just forfeit your soul to me. Give me everything that makes you you. Become a soulless puppet that can't even think for himself, and I'll bring it back for you. It can't be that bad. You clearly couldn't think for yourself very well before hand."

Gerard nodded his head, and in the blink of an eye the face had a body, and that body was mere inches away from him, its arm pierced elbow deep into Gerard's chest. He couldn't breath. He could only watch as the arm pulled slowly back out of him, clutching a blue fire in its grip.

Gerard only had a few moments of consciousness. In that time, the hand crushed his soul, and an explosion of colors and sounds erupted into the air. An entire world was born before his eyes. But he couldn't smile, or frown, scream, or cry. He blacked out as his body realized it was emptier than that void had ever been.

Misplaced

Brendan hit the ground hard, and his vision blurred together into one mass of dark red. It felt like his ribs had shattered, and his entire spine was numb. He didn't know if he would even be able to stand up again. The fact that he was alive was little more than a miracle. He had been falling for quite some time. So long that it had seemed like all other sounds had simply disappeared. After lying on the floor for some time, he heard the sound of someone sighing as they sat down beside him, but he didn't feel them reaching out to touch him in any way. They waited.

After a while, Brendan's vision returned to him, though the things that he saw seemed unreal. Above his head was a staircase, completely upside down, like in those perspective challenging paintings, completely with a twisted figure walking along it. In fact, such abstract images surrounded him entirely. Only one thing seemed to be the right way up, and that was the cloaked figure sitting next to him, waiting for him to get up, though it took Brendan some time to realize that that was what the figure was waiting for.

"I don't think I can move," he murmured out weakly. Even with how weak he felt, his voice was surprisingly quiet, yet he could hear it perfectly clear.

"You can move," the figure said dismissively. "But what in the blazes are you doing here? That shouldn't even be possible in your condition. This is going to be a logistical nightmare..."

Brendan rolled his head towards the figure, sending shocks of pain throughout his system, pulling a gasp from his lips. With how much that gasp hurt, he wondered if one of the shattered ribs had pierced his lungs. "What are you talking about?" he asked.

The figure's head moved in such a way as to imply it was rolling its eyes, though Brendan couldn't see them. "You're supposed to feel like that here," the figure said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "It's part of the punishment. It makes for quite the entrance. And then you have to deal with that while going through the other consequences of your failures. One of my better creations, if you ask me."

The words made little sense to Brendan. Punishment? Consequences? This felt like little more than torment without reason. "Where am I?"

The figure scoffed. "You can't tell?" It cast its hood aside to reveal a skeletal head with empty eyesockets. Brendan gasped sharply, sending another stab of pain throughout his system. "This is hell, moron. And you are not supposed to be here. You're not dead yet. I don't even know how that's possible. And if the big man upstairs finds out, I'm gonna be in deep shit, even though this isn't my damn fault."

Brendan blinked, not really understanding what he was being told. "How is that even possible?"

"Damned if I know!" Death responded, throwing his hands up into the air. "All I know is either you have to die, or I have to get you back to the surface, pronto. And I'm not actually allowed to do the killing. I just harvest." Death sighed and stood up, lifting his scythe from behind him and using it almost as a crutch to do so. "How the hell am I going to get you back to the surface?"

"I really don't think I can move."

Death grabbed Brendan roughly by the arm, cold bones wrapping around skin, and lifted Brendan to his feet effortlessly. Pain seared through Brendan's body, ripping forth a wail from his lungs, but to his surprise he was able to stay on his feet. "I told you," Death said. "I can't kill people. I can't even hurt them. Just disembodied souls. Now come on. We gotta get you out of here before any of the damned try and use you as a vessel. I swear, that man must be messing with me. It's the only explanation."

"What man?" Brendan asked meekly.

Death looked at him, and Brendan could sense that if he had eyes, Death would be giving him a look of contempt. "God," he responded dryly. "How stupid are you?"

Horror

Every few years, I see a surge of interest in horror films that inevitably seems to overpower advertisements in all sectors of the media, then vanishes with no one really remembering any of the films that came out during that period. And of course, movies aren't the only media source that this happens with, seeing as gaming seems to go through similar phases, but the two don't seem to align very well. And while October is the month to be scared, it doesn't always coincide with Halloween, as the movies and games just seem to appear.

I don't really understand the horror genre. I mean, I understand that some people get a kick out of being scared. They enjoy the adrenaline rush it gives them, and they generally have a dark and twisted sense of humor as well, so on some level they get genuine entertainment out of it all. But it all seems a bit shallow. A lot of the horror films I have heard of are little more than jump scares and creepy atmosphere that are reaching to push buttons rather than get under the skin. In fact, they seem to be so shallow that anything that could be considered genuinely terrifying has to be put under a different title - psychological thriller.

But the thing that I really don't understand about it all is that, going in to it, you already know what to expect. People are going to die. Something terrible is going to happen. And either the main characters are going to fail and die along with the others, or they are going to miraculously pull through and defeat the horror that gives the genre its name. And it's not a matter of consciously thinking about these things - these are what you are looking for in a horror film. In fact, if a horror film is lacking in these elements, it is criticized for not really being horror.

That being said, why are you afraid? Why should you be afraid? True terror comes from the unknown - not knowing what is going to come, or what you are faced against, or what it could potentially do to you and the people around you. But if you know that you are going to be facing up against something sick and twisted, you're already expecting the worst of it. You go into that experience knowing that people are going to die, and many people actively try to guess who's not going to be making it to the credits. Worse yet, they are often able to do so accurately.

To me, it just seems like poor writing. Horror appears to do little more than take every cliche available to it and put a different coat of paint on it. Age old magic, threats from beyond the grave, a benevolent figure that turns out to be the cursed one all along. We see these repeatedly, and they don't seem to be going away anytime soon. In fact, maybe that's why there seems to be pauses between these kinds of media being released. To give people enough time so as not to realize that every horror film is the same as the last.

Perhaps they just aren't for me. Perhaps I simply have the wrong kind of mindset for the entire horror genre. But it's hard for me to really understand what kind of mindset you would have to have in order to enjoy them. There have been some horror things that I have enjoyed. But they were pretty different from most horror films and games you see out there. And I only fully enjoyed them once.

Costumes

We've now entered the month of October, the spookiest month of them all, and it has caught me quite off guard, as it is prone to do. Halloween is a holiday that I enjoy thoroughly, as dressing up as something strange and different is, for whatever reason, simply something that greatly appeals to me. As I've grown older, I have grown to love this only more, where as so many people around me have let it drift away from them, and consequently I want my costumes to be more elaborate and difficult to make. Unfortunately, much as I am with my writing, I tend to think about these things far too late, and must rush a costume at the end of the month before Halloween catches me without a mask to don.

I am also the kind of person who is not much for the scary costumes. The idea of dressing as a mummy, zombie, vampire, or other such monster has never appealed to me. As a kid, it didn't make sense to me to dress as something that would scare when the goal was to get as much candy as possible. As I've grown older, I've found that I would much rather be original or creative than just dress up as something predictable and boring.

This has lead to many questionable halloween choices, from characters no one has heard of, to characters that I myself made. I have probably spent more time explaining what it is that I am dressed as then I have actually collecting candy. Sometimes this bothered me, having to constantly explain what I was and what what I was even meant. Other times I was more just confused on why so many people felt the need to ask. I have passed out candy to people who come to my door. I have never once asked them what it was they were dressed as. It didn't seem necessary. I mean, it's Halloween - the point is to be someone you are not. I feel like that is satisfaction enough.

However, after a point houses stopped being happy to see me come by Halloween night. Eventually I was deemed too old to be trick or treating - which seems pretty judgmental and wasteful, given how much Halloween candy so many houses I have gone to never even give out, but I digress - but my desire to dress up didn't go away. This also made me learn that I don't actually feel like I need a reason to dress up, however. So I started collecting outfits that I wanted to wear, and wearing them whenever I felt like it.

Some people found this odd. They accused me of trying to hide who I really was away under a layer of fake persona when I would dress in unusual ways. This didn't make sense to me. The costumes I choose, I choose because I feel that they are accurate representations of bits and pieces of who I am. I create costumes of characters that I love from video games or movies that I enjoyed. I create costumes of stereotypical characters, like cowboys or 1940's gangsters, because they represent my interests.

I have learned in time to use my dress to express myself, and show who I am and what I enjoy. Sure, it may be in strange ways. But is that not the point of fashion?

Deja vu

The school field trip had been less of a drag than Ray had anticipated, though that had little to do with the trip itself. They had gone to the bay to study the motion of the waves and the wild life along the shore, both coastal and marine. On the way, however, as he had been trotting along, somewhat away from the group with his friends, Ray had seen a girl off to the side sitting alone under an umbrella, and he couldn't very well hide from his friends the abrupt attraction that he had felt. She had been beautiful. There was just something about her that caught his eye. The bikini probably didn't help much, of course. On a dare, he had gone to chat her up. And, surprisingly, she had talked back to him.

He didn't have much time, however, as the group was going on its way, and he couldn't get left too far behind, else he risked being caught messing around and given some sort of detention or the like. To his amazement, however, she agreed to join him with seemingly little hesitation, and they went back to his group of friends together. His friends teased him endlessly, with no regard for the fact that she was right there beside him, but she merely laughed along with them and poked her own fun.

The trip was a long one, ending with a dinner event inside of a submarine. It was crowded, but somehow the teacher didn't notice the extra girl slipping on in along with the rest of the group, and the buffet style of the food meant that she wasn't left hungry. Though Ray was sure that there had been much to learn throughout the day, he couldn't particularly say that anything he had learned was because of the trip. He spent most of the time talking with the girl, named Miranda, and trying to get information out of her, especially her phone number.

"I still can't believe you actually agreed to hang out with us," Ray said between mouthfuls at the dinner table. They had grabbed spots on the outer edge of the cramped room, hoping to keep Miranda as much to themselves as possible.

Miranda smiled. "I guess there was just something about you that caught my eye," she said teasingly. "Something about your messy hair, or that dumb look on your face that said you had never even talked to a girl before." Ray could feel the blush on his face, try as he might to hide it.

The group laughed, and Josh jabbed Ray in the ribs with his elbow. "And damn, what a looker you got to come with us," he said, more than loud enough for the people around them to hear. "What are the chances you're gonna be able to invite her into your bed, too? I think we'd all like to know what's under that swimsuit."

Greg laughed and pulled Ray into a choke hold, giving him one hell of a noogie. "Yeah, right," he said. "Like anyone would want to get that close to this loser. Could you imagine the disappoint?"

Miranda grinned and played with her hair. "Who knows?" she asked coyly. "Somethings about me just might surprise you."

There was an audible oohing from that comment, which was quickly shushed by the teacher as one of the crew members came out to talk to the group, probably about what they had learned or what they should take away from the day, or some other crap like that. As he was talking, Ray felt a chill run down his spine, and looked back to where Miranda had been sitting to find that she had seemingly slipped away. He felt sick to his stomach. Something about this felt familiar, like he had experienced it before. He knew something bad was coming. Something sinister. Something about Miranda disappearing...

"Hey, man, are you feeling alright?" Greg asked, seeing how pale his friend's face had become. He paused and glanced around. "And where did Miranda go?"

"I don't know," Ray whispered back. "But I have a bad feeling about it."

"What?" Josh asked. "Are you afraid she's gonna dump you? You haven't even asked her out yet. And she's clearly above your league. Come on, dude, it's been a great day. Don't go ruining this for us now."

Ray frowned but nodded slowly. "I just... I think there's something I have to do."

The two looked at him skeptically, but something inside their hearts told them to trust their friend. "You need our help, you let us know," Greg said. Ray silently nodded in return.

Suddenly, the sound of the steel door entrance to the submarine slamming shut in the distance rang through the air, followed by a heavy lock. The crew members bolted to attention.

"What are you pranksters up to now?" the teacher demanded, looking around to see who could have caused the disruption. The class looked around, trying to see who was missing, but all of the classmates were there. Ray and his friends got a sick feeling in their guts. Miranda was still missing. It felt painfully familiar to Ray in particular. There was a warmth in his chest, like something rising up, knowing what was coming.

Then the lights went out. Only a moment passed before the deep red emergency lights flipped on, and Miranda was back.

"Miranda, what are you doing?" Ray asked, more forcefully than he had anticipated.

"Where is it?" she hissed back at him. Ray was surprised, but held his ground, as if his body were preparing for a fight. There was something sinister in her voice.

"I... I don't have what you're looking for," he responded, a little too weakly. He saw the blade leap into her hands, and before he knew what he was doing, his hand leaped forward, and a burst of heat came from it, sending the knife flying out of her hand and across the room, where it stuck into the wall with a clang. Half the room gasped, while the other half started screaming. Greg and Josh quickly got behind Ray.

"You little shit, you're using it!" Miranda cried out, before trying to leap at him. Ray pushed his hands out at her chest, holding her back, suspended in mid air. "Give it to me!"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Ray cried back. He could feel his friends behind him, half cowering and half supporting him. He could feel the eyes of every member of his class on him, the teachers, and the crew members. "I don't even know what's happening!"

"I'll kill you!" Miranda clawed viciously at him, and though she never touched him, he could feel light cuts grazing his skin. She had some kind of power as well. She probably had a better idea of how to use it.

"Please, can't we talk this out?" he pleaded desperately. "There has to be something-!"

He was cut off as one of the cuts slashed at his hand, weakening his push and dropping Miranda to the ground, hard. She staggered for only a moment before rushing forward. Ray's other hand shot out of its own accord, knocking Miranda back a good ten feet, spiraling across the ground. She cried out in pain, but by that point, the crew members had gotten their act together. One jumped on her, a gun pointed at her head, as another cuffed her hands together.

Kids were screaming. No one knew what was happening. As the sound of the submarine door reopening hit their ears, everyone made a break for it, trampling each other to get out. The only remainders were Ray, Josh, and Greg, huddled together, staring at the girl they had met only a few shorts hours before, and who they had only just barely escaped being killed by.

Deja vu

The school field trip had been less of a drag than Ray had anticipated, though that had little to do with the field trip itself. They had gone to the bay to study the waves and the life along the shore, both coastal and marine. On the way, however, as he had been trotting along, somewhat away from the group with his friends, he had seen a girl off to the side, and he couldn't very well hide from his friends the abrupt attraction that he had felt. She had been beautiful. There was just something about her that caught his eye. The bikini probably didn't help much. On a dare, he had gone to talk with her. And, surprisingly, she had talked back.

He didn't have much time, however, as the group was going on its way, and he couldn't get left too far behind. To his amazement, however, she had agreed to come with him, and they went back to his group of friends together. His friends teased him endlessly, with no regard for the fact that she was right there beside him, but she merely laughed along with them and poked her own fun.

The trip was a long one, ending with a dinner event inside of a submarine. It was crowded, but somehow the teacher didn't notice the extra girl slipping on in along with the rest of the group, and the buffet style of the food meant that she wasn't left hungry.

"I still can't believe you actually agreed to hang out with us," Ray said between mouthfuls.

Miranda smiled. "I guess there was just something about you that caught my eye," she said teasingly. "Something about your messy hair, or that dumb look on your face that said you had never even talked to a girl before."

The group laughed, and Josh jabbed Ray in the ribs with his elbow. "And damn, what a looker you got to come with us," he said, more than loud enough for the people around them to hear. "What are the chances you're gonna be able to invite her into your bed, too?"

Greg laughed and pulled Ray into a choke hold, giving him a hell of a noogie. "Yeah, right," he said. "Like anyone would want to get that close to this loser."

Miranda grinned and played with her hair. "Who knows?" she asked coyly. "Somethings about me just might surprise you."

There was an audible oohing from that comment, which was quickly shushed by the teacher as one of the crewmen came out to talk to the group. As he was talking, Ray felt a chill run down his spine, and looked back to where Miranda had been sitting to find that she had seemingly slipped away. "Must have gone to the bathroom or something," he muttered to himself.

Suddenly, there was the sound of the steel door of the submarine slamming shut in the distance, followed by a heavy lock. The crewman bolted to attention, as did several others posted around the room.

"What are you pranksters up to now?" the teacher demanded. The class looked around, trying to see who was missing, but all of the classmates were there. Ray and his friends got a sick feeling in their guts. Miranda was still missing.

Then the lights went out. Only a moment passed before the deep red emergency lights flipped on, and suddenly Miranda was back.

"Miranda," Ray whispered under his breath. "Where did you go?"

"Where is it?" Miranda hissed back. Ray jumped back in surprise. He didn't know what she was talking about, and there had been a sudden malice in her voice.

"What are you talking about?" he asked. "Where is what?"

"Don't give me that shit, kid," she hissed, and suddenly there was a blade in her hands. Greg gasped, but the sound lasted for only a moment before being replaced by a gurgle as the blade sunk into his throat. The entire class began screaming, but Ray and Josh were locked in their seats, staring at Miranda. The entire class saw what had happened. But no one knew why. "Don't hide it from me," Miranda continued. "Give me the key."

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Ray screamed, and then the knife was sticking out of Josh's chest, and he fell back, dead.

Miranda was up in an instant, pushing Ray flat onto his back in the enclosed space. Crewmen were coming, but Miranda didn't have an ounce of fear on her face. She looked as though she knew she had all the time in the world. "Last chance, kid. Now or never."

Ray felt a fire burning in his chest. He couldn't tell if it was fear or pain. "I don't-"

The sentence was cut off by the blade.