“See you tomorrow!” said my friends as they ran towards the sunset while waving at me, itching to go to the city after a long day at school. I’d normally join them, but I had an obscene amount of make-up material in my backpack weighing my body down. Unfortunately, being in the hospital isn’t a get-out-of-homework-free card even in the beginning of the year. Well, it’s not like I’m missing out on anything.

It’d be the usual after-school adventure, filled with the usual activities, met with the usual banter and jokes, and end in the usual way of seeing each other off one by one into the sunset. It’s something that will happen tomorrow, and the day after, well, so long as the weather permits. It was predictable and expected, but that’s what I liked about it. Sometimes other plans would come up, but we knew it wouldn’t stop us for next time. Even while I was in the hospital, those two would come by, spout the same usual stories and brain-rotting humor, as if nothing in their own life changed at all. 

I felt at ease with that, though sometimes I wondered if they found me to be a bother. Yet each time I was with them, I was reminded that I was still a human existing with other humans. Well, something like that—maybe that’s a bit too esoteric for a 9th grader.

The hospital didn’t have any budget for things like game consoles, at least to my knowledge, but they surprisingly had a vast library. Whenever I had the chance, I’d spend my time there, reading the works of Alexander Dumas, Stephen King, George Orwell, and of all things, H.P. Lovecraft. The more I thought about it, though, the more it began to make sense that his works would be relatively popular in a place like a southern state of the U.S.

Whenever I read a story from him, it only ever elicited emotions that resembled more so thankfulness, than anything else. I suppose thankfulness towards the very idea I could even look up to see a blue sky, and a sun that simply burned and lived as such. The worlds and settings he created—even if they are a mere reflection of a human’s worldview and imagination—terrified me with just the thought of fathoming people existing in such a cruel existence. Can our world even inspire such thoughts within one human being? There’s just—I refuse to believe such a thing. It’s ludicrous to me, and I intend to find the answer. The answer to a question that has never left me—what inspires one to conjure such a deeply disturbed world while knowingly being alive?

..Ah. Hospital thoughts, running rampant in my mind again. Often, when sitting in solace, and silence as I didn’t like the TV being on, my mind would repeat over and over what I experienced, both in life, and the books. Just repeatedly, over, and over, and over, and over— I’d develop reflections and thoughts that were perfect yet contradictory, mindful yet oblivious, inscrutable yet destroyable.

Everything had a thought associated with it. The IV? Its cyclical yet pointed and threatening manner was to me a pure design of malice and harm, yet through ingenious design it was more than capable at doing exactly what the doctors wanted it to. A beautiful, evil tool used by angels who took care of you.

“…Those kinds of thoughts are a bit ridiculous sweetie,” at least, that’s what the adults told me. So I stopped trying to believe in them, but I still have them often. It’s like a habit I developed without choice, and if I even consciously think about one for a mere moment, I get a rather painful migraine. At this point, I know how to stop thinking about them on purpose, yet I can’t fully stop it from getting to this point. The migraines themselves, thankfully, don’t last very long. Though, they can be so painful at times that even after it’s gone, it’s almost as if my brain itself feels sore and heavy.

It wasn’t one of those times thankfully, and I arrived home without much of an issue. Ah, I wondered what was for dinner—the smell wafted into my nose with its usual timing. Tonight, it smelled a lot like fried green tomatoes. That was a usual favorite of mine, especially when combined with any sort of cooked meat, or even mac & cheese. But if that was the case, and not simply my desires and bias telling me otherwise—

Why today? It was only Tuesday, and this was saved for either the weekend family get togethers (which could be holiday related, birthday related, marriage related, or simply spontaneous ‘cause we felt like it), or something special was happening.

There weren’t any cars around, nor any more than what there usually is. If it was a gathering, I would’ve seen the cars for it 2 minutes away, so it couldn’t possibly be that. That means that something special must be happening, right? But what could it be that they didn’t tell us in advance? They’re not having another kid, are they?! I seriously, seriously, seriously don’t want to help take care of another baby as I already do for my little brother! Maybe that’s a far leap in logic, but still, it’s possible!

But wait, what if it’s just something between them? Like the vividly shared memory of the two catching their first ever catfish together, seemingly purely by the whim of fate, on Mama’s first time fishing? (We celebrate that with catfish.)

What could they possibly have done with fried green tomatoes of all things…? Maybe Dad was frying up something, and Mom had just come back with some green tomatoes in a bag, then, out of the blue—she slips; the tomatoes launch from out of her bag, and into the frying vat?!

…No, this reads more like how one would explain how we invented fried green tomatoes. I think if they were that easy to make, there would be an insane addiction issue, and possibly a Great Green Tomato War. Probably three of them at least. I’d hope the world would come out of it flourishing as a GTP (Green Tomatoes Paradise), but who is to say, really? I’d have to debate the possible politics with Erika and Jaki sometime…

In the meantime, I’ll start getting ready to eat. If I eat first, I’ll have energy to focus on my homework for the rest of my night, and I’ll most definitely need all of it. If I don’t at least try to finish it in one go, I’ll be riddled with a guilt-ridden anxiety. I opened the door—

…To a rather quiet household. Immediately, I expected to see the sight of the two possible genetic sources of my rather overthoughtful nature bickering, playfully, amongst themselves in front of the stove, which is visible straight within the hallway of the entrance. Yet, despite this being the case 100% of the time given similar circumstances, and despite the lights and smell of food in preparation—It simply didn’t exist; the picture I was so used to.

It was odd, distractedly so. Even Opaké, my ADHD compelled younger brother of five years, hadn’t made a single sound. He usually was the first to greet me; the cases where he didn’t tended to be tied to some sort of punishment for his rather rowdy antics. He would’ve said somethin’ like, “Ain’t you home a bit early sis?” in an oddly nervous cadence, probably cause he was using my room as a playground.

The longer this silence lingered, though, the odd quality transitioned into becoming purely off-putting.

“Opaké? Dad? Momma!” I called out to them one by one as I closed the door and set my bag down, slowly walking through the house. I went to the kitchen first to turn off the stove, surprised it would even be left unattended at all while on. That’s far too dangerous, I thought to myself. I’ve seen way too many videos of carelessness within household kitchens, so to say I was a tiny bit cautious would be a grave understatement.

But even as I checked the living room, the bathroom, the pantry, the garage—I couldn’t find a single person. All that was left was the upstairs, and at this point I was convinced they had to be playing some sort of joke on me. Maybe they were away from the kitchen and the timing of me coming back gave them the idea. A bit ludicrous maybe, but not entirely impossible, right? I couldn’t think of any other explanation. They would’ve let me know if they weren’t gonna be here this morning, and there just isn’t a possibility they’d be making fried green tomatoes of all things, only to abandon it with the flame on.

None of it made any sense. Nothing. Nothing connected at all, and it made my stomach feel as if a sinkhole opened within it.

Perhaps that feeling then is why I noticed them—the dark, reddish spots on the hardwood floors. I looked down from where I came, and they were on each step of the stairs. I simply didn’t notice. How long had they been there? It couldn’t have been long. Even from a distance, it was easy to tell they were still wet by how they glistened from the light. They all led to the door right in front of me.

It was by all accounts, a normal door. Nothing about it was special. It was a plain, mahogany door that held the engravings of my parents’ initials on the front. Maybe that wasn’t so normal, but beyond that, it’s nothing that common imagination wouldn’t see when one thinks of a “door”. It was a normal door, yet it was completely forbidden.

Never locked, but always locked. Not for any horrifying reason, but simply because it was the room of my parents. To tread into the room of one’s parents without express permission or order is a bold action I could only equate to suicide. The two greatest (or worst, depending on the day) people on the planet’s own private space. It was theirs, right? Even a child understands one mustn’t trespass, it’s inherently sacred.

If there’s no other option though, what then? Just what is a child to do? Won’t they be punished? Scolded? Regardless, there lies a scene behind the door that must not be witnessed. It is something so very forbidden that it is made to be incomprehensible within my mind. That is the case—it is the full truth.

Goosebumps laced my skin at the mere thought of seeing what could be inside. My hair stood on end at a level that just being conscious of the feeling was terrifying in its own right.

So why then—

—Do I find myself turning the knob? My right hand, drenched in sweat, had already reached the door knob itself and turned it ever so slowly; even as the thoughts against the action raced through my mind.

Don’t.

Don’t open the door.

It’s far better if you pretend everything is okay.

Why can’t I stop? There’s nothing good behind this door, there’s nothing good to be gained from opening this door either. No, it’s not necessarily the fact that there’s nothing good—it’s the fact that what lies behind it will be something hideous, insidious. Why was there blood in the first place?

Don’t open the door!

Why was there blood, and yet silence? And as I asked myself these questions, it occurred to me. It was just for a second, but I remembered noticing the lack of a kitchen utensil. The knife used explicitly for cutting meat like pork was missing from its place. With that clicking in my mind, seeing it lodged within my mother’s shoulder as she sat slumped to the ground in a puddle of her blood made very clear sense to me. Not in the way that the scenario even existing made sense, but the notion that the knife was used improperly—to cut open a human being lined up.

Who even could do it? Why would they do it? Curiosity? Anger? What is there to be so curious about? What is there to be so frustrated over? Is any of it worth the gaze of lifeless eyes set upon you? Eyes that once cradled you just by their visage; made even more powerful by the life force that drove them—

“A-Ahhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” I let out what I could only assume was the most bloodcurdling scream that ever left my vocal cords. My mom was dead. Mama was dead. A bright mind I took so much inspiration from, that encouraged my endless reading and would listen to my nonsensical naive rambles about the world, who knew so much but shared so little-

Everything that constituted her existence besides her body, was gone. The eyes that looked in my direction were my mother’s, but the gaze itself belonged to a soulless pile of flesh and dysfunctional organs. Yet, that was oddly enough, a comfort. It was comforting knowing that my mother’s eyes were not able to see the scene that lay as the centerpiece within their room.

The chair was knocked over, and Dad’s body hung from the ceiling, absolutely lifeless. It swung back and forth, but the body itself did not move. How fast could he possibly have done it? Surely it wasn’t that long before I came home, right? If it was any longer, wouldn’t a great blaze rage and engulf the house from the kitchen? His neck must’ve snapped instantly. Even then, it just doesn’t make sense.

Not that it matters, I found my thoughts and crumbling sense of the world interrupted by a peculiar sound. It was like creaking wood; naturally, one would figure that coming from the noose’s thick rope as it hung from the ceiling. As I looked up, however, that is not what I found to be “creaking”. Instead, it was a sight that I would liken to a vision from a Lovecraftian world.

Dad’s head at this point could be ill-described as such. It was a black stump, laced with yellow veins that all raced to the top of the growth, culminating into a thick, yellow spiral that was fair to assume was the head, or at least the face. The creaking came from its excessive squirming and growth; an attempt to escape the rope that confined its movement. It wanted to escape, but why? Was it in pain? Did it simply want to leave? Why was it attached to Dad’s body? There’s nothing like this that I could fathomably relate to any sort of existing condition or disease, if it even was that. The squirming would transform more into a violent, vigorous writhing. I could only stand paralyzed as I watched the… thing exist, taking the only body my Dad ever had.

What…

Just what was I supposed to do?! Was Opaké still alive?! Why did this happen to my Dad?! Why did it, if it was responsible, kill Mama?! It was far too surreal. I had to be dreaming—I so very clearly had to be dreaming to even conjure such a narrative. Such a world where realities like this can’t possibly be real after all. I’ll wake up in my hospital bed soon, I just know it. All of those pleasant memories I’ve had recently with my family, with my friends—those were all just ending now. I closed my eyes, ready for them to open again in that familiar white room. I’m glad I got to sleep in such a wonderful world while it stayed that way. I wonder how long I’ve been asleep for? Probably not that lo—

CRASH

My eyes opened to the sudden sound. The body fell directly on the chair, breaking it into individual pieces. My body stood still, unable to reactively jump back to the fall. The body sat there, still, and lifeless—but it was only for a moment.

It twitched once, then, twice again, before erupting into a wormlike convulsion. It had no regard for how the human anatomy should function in its movements: twisting and distorting the body with sudden, jerked movements that produced loud and sharp sounds of bones breaking and ligaments snapping.

What did it want? It acted no different than an animal taken from its natural habitat. Scared. Lost. Confused. In pain. I could swear I could almost hear it crying-

Then it stopped. The convulsions came to a sudden end without warning, but with an obvious reason. The facade of a head had caught sight of me.

Hot.

Hot.

Hot.

My body felt hot and itchy all over. As each moment passed, the heat only increased, making me more and more uncomfortable and on edge. My muscles tightened reflexively, as if bracing for something. My lungs were heavy from my exasperated breathing, and my vision blurred. My head began to pound like a jackhammer across the top and front of my skull. It hurts. It hurts!

M y he a d h ur ts!

What do I do? It’s simply staring at me. I can’t tell what it wants—I can’t tell what it needs. Can it speak? Can it communicate? Is Dad in there at all? If I were to call out to him, would he hear me? It’s the only thing I can do right? Surely there’s maybe something, anything I can glean from at least trying!

“D-Dad…? It’s me, Iquesha. Are you… Can you hear me?” The words left my mouth before I could even think about stopping them. There’s no way that’s Dad, but maybe there’s a chance! I said it loud enough for it to hear me, so why is it completely still? Perhaps it’s thinking about how to respond, it could’ve just been in pain after all.

MOVE.

I could feel my body urging me to act.

MOVE. NOW.

My instincts gripped me, trying to force my body to do something I didn’t understand. Why? I was anxiously waiting for a response. It was just—no, it wasn’t merely staring at me. Its “face” was morphing into an unrecognizable shape. Scrunching inwards like a tongue reacting to a bitter sour taste, the body sat still.

MOVE!

It was too overwhelming to ignore. The pressure was suffocating me, so I needed to decide now. In trusting my instincts, I found myself jumping to the side of the door frame, no longer able to see the bedroom, or the creature. Yet, as I did so—

A spike, or maybe more accurately, a drill? No, it was more like a siphon, a destructive needle. It penetrated the wall immediately and with great force, causing cracks throughout, stemming from the hole. The hole was odd though, it wasn’t level to where the creature was. A hole would be near the floor, to match the corpse itself being on the floor. Instead, it was right where my head was.

Run.

I had to run. I needed to run.

But what about Opaké?

What about Opaké?! He could still be alive and simply hiding! I need to make sure he’s okay! Our room is downstairs, so he probably hid in there! But wait, I can do both. I can run and look for him. I need to run, because that thing’s goal is communicated now. In some way or another, it wished to end my life as I knew it. I couldn’t let that happen in any possible circumstance. Mama would’ve told me to not let a demon like this keep me down. Dad would’ve said I ain’t a sister or a woman if I can’t protect my younger brother, so I can do at least this much—!

I gritted my teeth, knowing I just barely dodged death itself. My body was on fire, but I had too much to do. Every fiber in my being was screaming with adrenaline, and my mind was racing even as it was still engulfed in pain. The excessive sweat dripping from my body was meant to be ignored. The heat was unbearable, but it reminded me I needed to go. The sooner I rescue him, the sooner this nightmare is over!

“Opaké!!! If you can hear me, run outside now!” I screamed, as I began my descent down the stairs. I’d possibly waste too much time looking for him, so if he can hear me, it’s better if I distract this thing to let him escape. I have no clue if it’ll work, it’s banking on the fact he’s alive, so I’ll have to check regardless. It’s still better than nothing!

Each step I descended felt like a mountain in length. I knew I was going down them quickly, but I only felt the opposite. Carefully yet hastefully I placed each foot on each step, taking care not to slip. I could hear its writhing, squirming, and incomprehensible screeching as it began moving again behind me. It was a corpse, but an unnatural and possessed corpse. Whatever it was capable of had to be far more than what I was, but I didn’t have a choice.

I had to outrun it, even just being in its line of sight was dangerous enough. Do I check through the house first? If I’m struggling, Opaké stands no chance against the monster. I want to trust he’s okay, I want to trust he’s heard me and is already outside—

But the door wasn’t opened.

“Iquesha!” My name rung out from his little voice as I finally reached the first floor, my baby brother running towards me and embracing me tightly, no doubt scared for his life.

Yes, yes I understand you’re scared right now, and I’m the only family you have left, but—!

“Run Opaké!!” I threw him towards the doorway, practically ripping him off of me. Though I felt bad, I didn’t regret it one bit.

CRACK

“Ah-!” I don’t know what, but something shattered. It exploded within my back, inflaming my nerves all across my body. Something collided into my back with a destructive force I could only describe as inhuman. It launched me into the wall at a speed that made my stomach curl and drop.

BANG

“..Urk!!!! Ack!!” I had turned slightly in the air before hitting the wall, colliding mostly with the right side of my body. The nerves in my shoulder were the first to explode with an onslaught of enraging waves of pain. Then it flowed to the elbow, the wrist, the hand, and the back within less than a second. The shockwave rumbled my entire core. My bones were screaming in some sort of agony I could only describe as primal, the feeling being akin to the vibration that occurs when two metal rods hit each other. Every fiber was clinging desperately to the desire to live, my mind scrambling over all possible avenues of survival.

Humans were not meant to be flung at such speeds. My organs felt misplaced, jumbling to realign themselves as I lay on the floor. My lungs ached with each heavy, rapid breath, from what I could only assume was a few broken ribs. My spine felt contorted and twisted by the attack, veering to distort to an irreparable state at any more pressure applied to it, and it burned the most out of anywhere on my body, but I could feel those flames encroaching upon my legs. My vision was blurred and darkened, and a distinct ringing was in my ears. The ringing was tremendously painful, but it was nostalgic. I remember, I’d often hear it when I woke up in the hospital—

My eyes closing briefly, I saw that white ceiling again. The lights were far too bright as usual, but they were only on because ‘they’ were here to look at me. Something was wrong with the tests, so they needed to simply ask a few questions to make sure of their results. Couldn’t they have done that with the light off? No, that would make the ‘inspection’ part far too difficult for them. Any time I’d try to resist the procedure, I’d hear that ringing. From the moment it started, to when I next woke up.

The ringing, at some point, became pleasant and simply a part of the experience. I don’t know when, but I realized it was a distraction I could attach my attention to. It helped me mind the pain, the laughter, the rather sick and twisted words said amongst themselves or hurled at me as my body was distinctly transformed into the property of others. The ringing itself was painful, but still, it was a far more pleasant pain than the one that existed within my flesh and mind. After all, I still feel that pain now, but who knows if it’s real? None of the adults believed me when I told them.

In the mix of my frail humanity echoing within my nearly ruptured body, I could feel the scars flare up with a cold, distant yet unforgettable pain. It always reappeared at night, but I suppose being near death, even if just for a moment, tricked my mind into thinking I was heading to sleep. Is it proof that I’m still alive? Perhaps it’s my body’s defense mechanism against falling into a permanent, deep sleep. I’m forbidden from such an easy escape. The pain has to continue. It can’t stop. I detest it with all my being, but how else could I exist? If it were to some day disappear, I would feel a great, terrifying emptiness—

“…-esha, get up!!!” …what? Whose voice was…? No, no I told you to run!

Why are you still here?! Get out!

If you stay any longer, you’re gonna end up worse than me!

You can’t wait, you have to go!

“!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” The corpse’s shrill shriek forced my eyes open.

I see you. Even with my barely functioning eyes, I see your small shape. A little black boy with that standard short haircut that made every little boy feel like a little man. A little black boy with the shirt of his favorite TV show. Little black boy holding that plush dog I won for you at the fair that you cried so much for, there’s so much I gotta teach you. So much I have to show you.

My dear, precious little brother; you have so much growing to do, you know? There’s still so much left for you to experience and live through. Your childhood was normal. The love from your parents was unconditional. You’re surrounded by friends on every corner of the neighborhood, of the school. Everyone knows your prospects in school and even in sports are high, your potential could lead you anywhere; yet you’re far too young to realize such a thing. You’re simply living your life as you see fit, living as the day comes and goes. That’s the sort of life I’ll never be able to obtain with the existence I’ve been given. You contradict my purpose in being born to this world, and as the contradiction itself, I should be the one to die, not you!

That’s why no matter what—

“You have to go Opaké-!” I sprang to my feet, my lungs ready to burst through my ribcage. My tendons ached, and my muscles screamed in protest against the action. My nerves were burning, and nausea from the disorientation was building. Despite that, I ran towards my little brother; reaching my hand out, even as my spine painfully locked itself in place, to his outstretched tiny hand. His tiny light palm was just in reach. I’m almost there. I’m

almost

there!

I.

I was almost there, but the hand fell limp. It dodged my hand, falling straight to his side. No matter what I told my body to do, it simply froze in place. It recognized quicker than I did the situation that was in front of me. A sight that was far too horrific to classify as real.

What was it that Lovecraft saw within his dreams? His nightmares? Perhaps even within the Bible, he saw something like this. Something to compel him to create such vividly disturbing worlds that couldn’t possibly be reality. Part of their charm is just how illogical they are, but despite that he’s still able to pull you in with such vivid, engrossing imagery and horror.

But isn’t this world illogical? This very situation, this moment, it all doesn’t make sense no matter how you look at it. Why is it that my brother’s face, as opposed to mine, is punctured beyond any reasonable recognition? Why was it him? Isn’t this some sort of trope? Some sort of tragedy in drama? The greatest ones always die young, the ones with the most potential never have the life to fulfill it?

Nonsense. It’s all nonsensical, ridiculous, and tragic. By design? By desire? But from whom? Is there a God to construe these things? To what end? If I think too long about it, I’ll get a splitting headache. Maybe that’s better than perceiving the loss of the only life I had a chance of saving.

The needle stuck within his face pulsated repeatedly, his body shriveling with each one. It was engorging throughout its length with each pulse as something traveled down the needle, almost like a throat.

It was feeding. That’s the only conclusion I could make as to why I was still alive. I had no reason to care about that anymore though. Everything has led to a hopeless pit of despair. There was no meaning in the pain, the cold hands upon my skin, the terrors of the night—

It would’ve all led to this anyway.

On my knees, I wanted the corpse to hurry up. Stop taking your time with him. Even now, he’s worth more than me, isn’t he? Being merely alive feels like cheating on my part, if it were some sort of measurable contest; a gold medal for being the last to survive, just for me.

…How awful. My only sibling, my precious little brother, has been reduced to nothing more than food and I can’t remove the thought of being inferior to him. I should rot. I’m worth far less than food; I should be slaughtered simply for the sake of it.

The needle retracted back into the corpse’s head, and it crawled towards me languidly. It was probably studying me, perhaps even preparing for any attempt to escape. Doing nothing may have delayed any sort of action it would otherwise take. How could I do anything right now? I just want it to all end. I wish to wake from this nightmare. Please. Is there anyone who can? I closed my eyes, hoping to open them to that familiar white ceiling. Just wake me up when it’s time for breakfast, anyone. Any nurse, any friend, any family member, just please—!

s o m e o n e.

…

“Ignite!”

The voice boomed like thunder, and the following sound of crashing wood and brick echoed loudly above and around me. At first there was a harsh torrent of wind, but it quickly calmed down to a gentle breeze. In front of me, I could feel an intense… heat? It was most definitely hot, but it felt calm. The nerves in my body felt drawn by whatever was in front of me, rather than afraid. I could hear the crackling too. It had to be some sort of flame, right?

I opened my eyes. I did not see that white ceiling, but I did not see what I knew of my house either. The roof was practically gone, caving in somehow all around me at various levels of destruction. The orange sky remained from before, but in front of me—

In front of me was another creature. Its flesh is a shining ivory: textured like silk, covered in a beautiful prismatic exoskeleton that resembled body armor. It wasn’t particularly bulky but noticeably different and larger than the flesh. The armor was reminiscent of an orchid mantis; white with pink accents blending throughout, spiky spine-like structures lining the shoulders, back, and head. The head was angular, possessing two large gray eyes evenly spaced out, and the outline of a mouth and jaw that was closed. They were incredibly tall, no doubt easily above six feet. But most distinctly, all around its body were black and white flames. I was hypnotized by their sight, especially flames that wrapped around their chest and back. They raged on upwards, whipping and cracking rapidly. It was mesmerizing, and I once again questioned if I was within reality.

It rose from its previous crouching position, its right foot on the creature’s throat. It squirmed and screamed in pain, the body writhing. It stared at the creature for a brief moment, but quicker than my eyes could process—launched its fist into the yellow swirl of its head.

Black liquid spewed in all directions, and the screams fell silent. In an instant, it stopped moving. The corpse was finally as it should’ve been from the start, but something odd was happening as well. The “head” was dissipating, fading away to the chest as if it never existed at all. In its place though, was nothing. Dad’s body no longer had a head, just a void of space that no doubt led to the rest of his insides. Whatever the growth, the creature was a part of, it was long gone.

Yet that made me realize, the other monster was still in front of me. And now—it was looking straight at me. I had been long shaken to my core at this point, but their gaze unleashed a torrent of fear into my mind that I could never have comprehended without feeling it. My entire body felt as if it was being frozen while also lit on fire. Alive and dead. Paused in time, and yet time is moving so fast I can barely keep up. They saved me, but it was a monster, right? Questioning the existence of such a thing was fair, but automatically assuming its actions were for my sake was a catastrophic misstep. You can’t even assume that about other people, so what gives me the right to believe? To have hope that a monster of all things saved me from another?

I fell to my side, the will to do anything leaving my body completely.

“H-hey!” I heard a voice that was trying to be soft, but inherently a deep one. It came from the direction the monster was in. Ah, perhaps they’d be another victim to this massacre. I just wanted it to be over with already. I’m so terribly exhausted.

But I found myself being lifted by a strong set of arms, and my eyes found their gaze set onto the most beautiful, yet oddly familiar, platinum blonde locks I had ever seen. Hazel eyes upon a pale face stared straight into mine, filled with the most worry and concern I had ever seen in another person beyond my parents. “Please tell me you’re okay! You’re alive, right Iquesha?!” they said. A woman…? A rather well built one from what I could see, but that was a secondary detail to what I noticed.

The flames. Those black and white flames, they were leaving her body actively, fading into mere trails around her chest before disappearing entirely. Was the monster this person…? What’s that even supposed to mean? If she’s showing care now, is she one of those transforming heroes like on TV?

No, more accurately, that form of hers resembled that unknown entity from 11 years ago that was all over the news. I remember those flames being all the news could talk about, as they were always left behind wherever the entity went. Then suddenly, the entity itself disappeared without a trace. Even now, they are still posts and spaces online dedicated to understanding the mystery of that year-long incident. Even in my current state, I could still hear the crackling of flames that must have been left from her entrance.

Was it fighting things like this, this whole time? Was it also a human being? Was this woman that entity from so long ago? She looked closer to my age, so there’s no way it could’ve been her, but maybe she’s just that youthful.

If that’s the case, then you’re far too late. The only ones worth saving are long gone. You failed to save anyone of worth, so you might as well have not come.

…So why?

Why am I the one who’s still alive? It isn’t fair! Why couldn’t you have come sooner?! What’s the point anymore?! You saved me for what purpose?! To make me live with this?! How do you know my name? What do I have now? What is waiting for me beyond days and months and years of pain? I hate this. I hate all of this! I hate you, and I hate you even bothering to exist!

“Ngh… Ahhhhh! Hahhhhh!!!! Why-!!?!? Aaahhhhhhhh!!!!!”

I found myself pounding her chest in anger, and my throat becoming more and more sore as I uncontrollably wailed.

“…It’s okay. It’s okay,” she said soothily. She began caressing my head all the while, the tears not stopping.

Nothing about this was okay. Someone saved me, but I just wanted to wake up from all this. I wanted it to end, and be the worst dream anyone has ever had. It’ll be a funny story to tell my friends if they visit, and that’s all I want it to be. I closed my eyes, wishing for it all to fade to darkness.

I just want to be awake. I want to see my friends tomorrow at school. I want to go with them to the city and bask in the setting sun. I want that usual tomorrow to come, and last forever.

---

EPILOGUE

---

The unconscious Iquesha was set down on a burgundy leather couch that rested within a café.

The café was rather small, the space not too much bigger than a studio apartment. Across from the couch was the counter, various utensils, coffee beans, tea leaves, and a small fridge sat on the wall, and cupboards behind. A distinct smell of mahogany and herbal tea danced around within the air, recently made tea being set upon the table that was in front of the couch. Intricately designed rugs would be placed underneath the furniture over the spotless wooden floors.

The setting sun’s rays peeked through the closed blinds, masking the café in a dim, bleeding orange that would remain until dusk fully settled. A lamp with a blue flame in its center would take its place on a small tabletop perpendicular to the couch, cauterizing the orange hue in its localized area.

The café’s doors were closed for today, leaving the blonde woman, the girl she saved, and one other figure alone to remain undisturbed.

“Is there a blanket somewhere?” The woman asked the figure, looking towards them. “She might need some medical, ah-” her reaction was from seeing the other figure, a maid, already have a blanket ready to drape the young girl in. Their heels clicked against the hardwood floor as they walked, stopping in front of the couch as the woman moved out of their way.

“Welcome back! I do hope the young lady wakes up soon. I’ve put an incantation on this blanket to help with any injuries as they sleep. By the time she wakes up, she should be good as new, but I’ll be sure to check for any further harm. I’m glad you returned without being harmed yourself,” the Maid said to the woman with a gentle, angelic voice, moving their gaze towards her.

They possessed rich, umber-brown skin visible through their face, and the little visibility of wrists between their white sleeves and gloves. Their hair was made of long, plentiful, delicate braids entwined with curls protruding from each. Most notably, the braids predominantly within the front were a stark white, contrasting heavily with the deep black head of hair. The other noticeable part of their hairstyle was their crown-like bundle of braids at the top that looped back downward and flowed into the rest of the hair.

The maid sported a brilliant yet simple outfit, based on the traditional Victorian maid dress. The bottom frills were much larger and exquisite than what one would usually expect, and the arms sported white, baggy sleeves from the elbows onward that stopped at their wrists. They wore black flats (that sported two straps, one on the top of the foot and one above the ankle) on white tights. Within the pocket on their apron was a quilt and golden chain linking to the bow wrapped around their back, holding the apron to the dress. Atop their head rested a frilly headband, a pair of sunset gradient teashades, which they found unnecessary indoors. Their eyes were a pale golden-yellow, though it shifted color slightly depending on the angle you looked at. As a result, it was strangely difficult to look into them for long periods. Most notably, they possessed animalistic traits. They sported antlers spouting from the top of their head that possessed small, healthy green fauna growing from the tips. In front of them were their ears. Gray, furry and slightly pointy, it was hard to discern what animal they were more akin to. Sporting the same color was their overly large tail from their lower back, blending into white near the end while possessing blood-red roses along its entire length.

The woman averted her eyes, unable to meet the gaze back. Her hands clenched, a lingering regret stopping her from feeling accomplished.

“I was too late. Everyone was dead by the time I got there, besides her, and I only just barely made it. Why…? Was I too late to act? Am I just not fast enough?”

“But you still saved someone, that is still worth acknowledging and being happy for.”

“Do you think that’s how she’ll see it?”

“Perhaps not, but it is the reality of the situation, tragic as it is. Despite that, I know she will carry on. She has a strong soul within her, and there’s far more awaiting her in life.”

“…I thought you were only clairvoyant to a certain degree.”

“That’s still true. This is just a personal feeling of mine,” the Maid replied, sporting a small smile of confidence paired with a wink towards the woman.

“However, there is a matter I wish to bring attention to regarding your handling of this situation,’ their tone took a slight step into being serious as they walked towards the woman and stopped a few inches away from her. ‘Master Lena, did you kill it?”

Lena’s eyes struggled to keep level with the Maid’s, shifting to the side momentarily before falling slowly downward. The embarrassment began to fill her core, shame intermixing with all of the guilt she previously felt. She couldn’t find the words to respond.

“Master Lena, I simply want you to be honest with me. I do not wish to scold you, but simply offer a reminder as to why we are doing what we are doing. And while I can sense the looping of Emotions that result from the death of Khastima, I would like to give you the benefit of the doubt and believe it’s unrelated. There are others aware of all this, and other humans could be successfully defending themselves. Hence, I ask you.”

Of course, I know that, Lena thought to herself. It doesn’t make it easier to say it out loud though…

The Maid simply sighed after waiting for a solid minute. “Master Lena, I will elaborate once more for you. Khastima, no matter what it has done, or what it is born from, must be purified when possible. Killing, no, destroying it creates a potentially worse situation. The Emotion it’s made from does not simply disappear. It re-enters the womb of Existence, possibly with newer and stronger Emotion, and it will eventually be reborn into Reality. It does not solve the issue, but merely perpetuates the cycle. Purifying it on the other hand, lets the emotion return to nothingness, fulfilling those emotions. Think of it like a ghost having their soul set at peace so it can move on from the human world. You do understand this, do you not, Master Lena?”

Lena opened her mouth to retort, her eyes meeting the Maid’s with a flash of determination, but the words caught within her throat. She was utterly and completely in the wrong as she knew, but was unsure of how to acknowledge that in any way to make her seem more mature. The more she failed, the more she felt like a clueless child. Her eyes fell once again, and so with them her head. Was she truly this weak?

The Maid patted her head, gently running their slender fingers through her blonde locks.

“My dear mistress, you must raise that beautiful head of yours. Remind me of your goal, your desire, and in turn, remind yourself.”

“I… I want to be a hero. No matter what, I want to save everyone I can and be a source of hope for anyone who looks at me. I want to inspire, to lead people through the darkness we all fall to, that always comes after us. I don’t want to sit still knowing I can do something—I can change something! I don’t want people, or any living thing, to die if it can be saved or protected needlessly. If the world is inevitably going to hurt us, then I want to be the person who can shoulder that pain and save those pushed to the brink of despair by the world. And, maybe a bit selfishly, I want to reach the heart of someone I’ve cared about since I was a child, and be able to protect her, just as she did for me.” The Maid flashed a warm smile to Lena, cupping the girl’s face into their hands.

“Though flawed, it’s a beautiful desire; one I wish to see fulfilled with my own eyes. And for that purpose, and your sake, I shall be at your side until you achieve the dream you seek.”

Lena felt her heart stir as she looked into the Maid’s ever entrancing sulfuric-orange eyes. She met them 11 years ago, as they were an instrumental force in solving the incident that occurred then. They’ve disappeared and reappeared time and again, but this is the longest they’ve been around since that time. After all, they made a contract with Lena, something they hadn’t done with someone since the incident 11 years ago. Another occurrence was in motion, it seems, but that which construed it remained patiently within darkness.

“You think I can?” Lena’s voice wavered, the doubt at the forefront of her mind. Was willpower all it took? It couldn’t be so easy, and for her, perhaps it was just a foolish dream to believe in.

“Well, of course I believe in you Master Lena. Whether or not you can or cannot, that is up to you and the future. What I do know however, is that you must first and foremost believe in yourself. Perhaps it is hard to imagine, but there was a time where I doubted everything I did. The thought of, ‘Did I make the right judgment? Did I do everything I could’ve?’ ached me terribly throughout my early times of existence. I still feel such doubts at times, but I know why I do what I do. If I believe in the vision I wish to come to fruition, I’ll act confidently to achieve it. One must not falter, lest you shall be assailed by all that wishes to stop you.”

“…You’re right, it is hard to imagine that of you,” Lena said with a small laugh.

“My, is it? Perhaps I am more outwardly composed than I imagine. I oft fear that the constant activity that pervades my mind is evident in my appearance.”

“Only sometimes. Typically it’s your ears and especially your tail, like right now.” The Maid flipped around, curiously staring at their rather massive, fluffy tail that began to sit still from its flurry with their conscious acknowledgement.

“Oh dear, I fear there is much on my mind for me to not even feel such a thing myself. Speaking of which,’ the Maid began, walking over to the other side of the café and grabbing ahold of their abhorrently large, gold-engraved, dark green suitcase to start looking through it. It possessed thin papers stuck to the outside that harbored unintelligible red markings and symbols. ‘You mentioned her just now, but are you ready to see that friend of yours again?”

“…I don’t have a choice. It’s been five years anyway, so I think there’s been enough time since we…”

“…? Oh, that’s right! I do forget. You wish to rekindle those feelings don’t you?”

“I guess so, but things are different now. I wasn’t… well… I’ve changed a lot since then, I can only imagine the same is true for her. It wouldn’t be surprising if she doesn’t recognize me.”

“Perhaps so. Perhaps so indeed. Hmm. Hmhmhm! I should prepare a gift for her! It’ll be quite a nice reunion, don’t you think? Though, I can’t shake the feeling she’ll be a tiny bit envious of seeing the two of us together. I was contracted to her previously, after all.” Lena offered a reluctant chuckle, but the reminder of time passing shot into her mind without warning.

“Ah! I should probably start heading home before I start getting busy with calls. Everything gonna be okay here?” She said, clumsily making her way to the café’s exit.

“Yes yes, everything shall be fine Master Lena. Be safe on your way home, yes?” Even while digging through their suitcase still, the Maid offered a smile and a wave goodbye.

“You say that as if you wouldn’t just appear out of thin air if I was in danger,” Lena said under her breath, leaving the café in a sprint.

---

Dusk had more than settled in. The sky was wrapped in a deep turquoise, laced with sparse blackened clouds that hovered still. Fluorescent street lights had long since brightened the darkness, only being helped by the litter of cars on the road.

It wasn’t that far from home, but it was worth at least running partway there to save time. Being a star school athlete, she had the stamina to spare. Running was always a trial for her, however, but not because of any physical impediment.

While running, Lena felt at most alone with her thoughts. The world around her was but a blur that kept moving past her. Even when having to stop for crosswalks or any sort of traffic, the destination, the desire to keep running was the only thing that connected her to reality outside of her mind. She heard sirens wizz by among the cacophony of cars, but paid them no mind. Right now, that destination was home. But while she focused on the destination, with nothing of the world to distract her, her mind could only think of everything else. And all her mind could think of right now, was just how weak she was.

What power did she have truly? She saved one person, and even then only just barely. That person’s pain will forever remain with them, and Lena herself will probably only have been perceived as another monster. Why her? Out of all people, why was she gifted the Flame? She didn’t have control over her own life, what gives her the right to try and control, to try and save people from the fate the world has placed on them? If she can’t even carry out such a simple mission, then she should just cease to exist. Someone else can take her place. Someone else can be a hero. Someone else can be the family’s athlete star. Someone else can be ‘her’. After all, it’s not like her parents recognize her as such.

You expect us to humor your delusions? As long as it doesn’t change your performance, we don’t care. Just know that when it’s time for university, this “experiment” is over.

But of course they don’t care. When have they ever? Lena isn’t an individual to their parents, but a means to an end. If only she had the power to do something about it. After all, she was just a privileged kid who just happened to be exceedingly good at sports, just happened to be really into transforming superheroes, and just so happened to have the ability to transform into a form far from human. Of course the world is still the way it is. Of course the world is still cold and harsh in reality. Of course the world is still unfair, and filled with misery and unequal circumstances, discrimination, weakness, those who are possessed with nothing but malice—

The power to change all of that, to change the world; a power that surely doesn’t exist, is one that she would need.

So

You should have it.

Burn

Burn it

BURN IT ALL AWAY.

“Huh?! Whoa-!” Lena found herself crashing into a pedestrian on the sidewalk, falling on top of them. She’s subconsciously able to dodge people pretty easily, so to say this was out of the ordinary would be an understatement. It was more akin to an impossibility. She swore however, that she heard a voice in her head within that moment, as it was the only thing that could’ve possibly explained her distraction.

Lena quickly regained herself and rose with her arms, pushing up from the ground. Thankfully, though oddly, there was no one else around. “Hey, are you alright?! I’m so sorry I was going so fast I just didn’t see-!” But how could that have been? No, it’s not that Lena didn’t see this person, but rather that they weren’t there in the first place. The only way Lena couldn’t dodge someone while running at this point, is if that person simply didn’t exist. But very clearly, there was a person on the ground below her, and the solid stinging of body collision was all too real in Lena’s body.

“Ahh.. t-that hurt a bit more than I thought it would…” said the figure with a rather timid and shaky, yet ethereal voice. It was then that Lena took into consideration the position she was in. This person wasn’t particularly small by any means, but from the perspective of being directly above them, hands planted besides their head, they only seemed small. Messy white-gray curls with a black streak within them adorned their head, covering the top of their distinctly deep-umber face that could belong to either a girl or a boy. Underneath the hair, one could see they sported silver hexagonal frame glasses that sat upon a set of entrancing, sapphire eyes. They wore a loose black cardigan over a maroon shirt, paired with a long, black pleated skirt and simple brown boots. As Lena noticed more and more details of the stranger, the situation became noticeably more precarious.

“Huh…? Ah!’ In shock, the stranger seemed to have recognized Lena from their position on the ground.. ‘Y-you’re Lancelot of the Orion Stars aren’t you?!” Lena winced at the name used, but couldn’t justify being upset at hearing it. More importantly, she felt her heart drop. This sort of situation was something she strived to avoid if she could, but it was becoming common enough that the thought of it being futile lingered within her mind.

“You’re… s-so much… bigger than I thought you’d be…” the stranger was quickly enamored by Lena’s physique and height. Her bottom half was hidden by extremely baggy, black harem pants that stopped right at her red and white high tops, but she only wore a white t-shirt on her torso. Though she liked to wear shirts with pretty loose fits, it was present just in her shoulders and arms, just how toned and in shape she was. Upon the realization that the two hadn’t moved at all, only staring at each other’s eyes and bodies all the while one was on top of the other, a large flush of embarrassment overcame the both of them. Images flashed through Lena’s mind, imagery that she would rather not admit came from the depths of her soul. Am I gonna be okay when I see her? She thought warily, snapping back to reality.

She launched herself off the ground, took a heavy breath inward and exhaled, and proceeded to present her hand to the stranger. “You’ve got the wrong person. My name is Lena, sorry about all this. You’re not hurt, are you?”

The stranger blinked their eyes a few times before taking Lena’s hand as they shook their head in response to her question. “L-Lena…? That’s such a pretty name. Are you Lancelot’s sister? You look so much like him.” Standing up properly, the stranger wasn’t too much shorter than Lena, the top of their head reaching Lena’s nose.

“Ah-’ an awkward question to be asked. ‘Er, not exactly. Are you a fan of his? If there’s a message you want to pass on, I can make sure it gets to him.”

“O-oh… I see… I was just hoping I could talk to him before I transferred, just once…”

“Transferring? So you also go, or—did go to Orion? I can’t say I recognize you myself but I hope it goes well. Where to?” It was an innocent question, but one Lena couldn’t help but feel was intrusive. This was something she shouldn’t be asking. After all, this person was interested in the wondrous, dashing Lancelot that might as well have been considered a town icon. They didn’t owe any more attention to this random girl who caused an inconvenient situation. The regret surged within her stomach, rising to her heart with a quickness.

“Thanks… U-uh, O-Oakdale. It’s pretty far from here, so for the rest of high school, I’m probably never going to be able to see Lancelot in person again. I… I loved watching him play. I’d sometimes just hang out in the stands to watch him practice and… his dedication was just something else, you know? Um… er… like, everyone’s was of course, but he had a, like, a-aura or something around him…! He’ll just help out too, staying as long as needed at practice to—to make sure his teammates are all able to do their best. Or like, when those dogs went missing in the forest during a thunderstorm. I remember seeing the pictures online… soaked completely and covered in mud while holding both dogs in his arms… And you know-! Even in school he’ll tutor if he doesn’t have practice, at least, s-so I’ve heard. He’s so willing t-to put himself last to do something about what he cares about, a-and I just find that… so beautiful. …Is that the right word…? Maybe that’s not appropriate to say but—” A hand came down on top of their head, inciting silence on their part. Perhaps they said too much, or something deeply wrong.

“I remember now, you’re Dawn, aren’t you? That white hair is unforgettable, it reminds me of one of my favorite comic heroes. Regarding Lance though, I can tell you care a lot about him. All of what you said; that was really sweet of you. If he heard that himself, I think he’d be really happy,’ Lena said softly, with a smile. ‘Oakdale right? It just so happens I’ll be transferring there too. It’s actually where I’m from, so if you’d like, I could show you around when we’re both there. I’ll be there next week, so I’ll be waiting for you.” Though Lena had made it clear she wasn’t the same person, the young individual named Dawn couldn’t help but feel that same aura they so admired and adored. Their eyes sparkled underneath their hair, and a warm flush could be felt underneath their cheeks. They moved their hands to Lena’s, grabbing ahold of it gently as they moved it from the top of their head, giving a wide smile as they narrowed their eyes.

“I-I am Dawn, yeah. I’ll… I’ll be l-looking forward to it…!” Dawn held Lena’s hand close, slightly nuzzling their face forward into Lena’s palm.

Lena asked herself if it was wrong for her to feel joy at such an encounter, but let the swelling of her heart overtake her and smiled back. After all, there hadn’t been any cars in a while to witness such a scene. In this moment, it was just the two of them in joyful silence.

END

TO BE CONTINUED IN IGNITE: BURN TO LIVE