Game

1

When the alarm sounded she stared as the digital red numbers flashed. Her hand hit the button with such force the infernal device flipped over and onto the hardwood floor.  She slumped. As she panned the room her stomach churned. Another day began like all the rest. She sighed. Would it really matter if she got up and dressed? Would anyone notice her late?

Rubbing her chin she stuck out her tongue and gradually made her way off the bed. As the cool floor pressed against her feet she wrapped her arms more tightly about her. A chill coursed down her spine. Goosebumps broke out across her flesh. Slowly hairs stood on end and she looked behind her. Expecting something to be there she jerked when darkness stared back.

She took in a sharp breath. Standing she hurried toward the door. She patted the wall just outside the room and pressed the switch. Light flooded the hallway at once. She squinted while her eyes adjusted and paused before heading straight ahead. The bathroom was always her first stop in the morning. Then again she imagined it was for most people.

When time and space were amorphous voids and nonentity stretched incessantly, emotions became the first disease. Emotions beget perdition. Not soon after the nine circles of perdition beget mankind thus the origin of my indignation.

Now these arrogant creatures parade about as though they are the center of the universe. Upon the very fabric of sanity they march as though all things big and small belong to them. As she straightened her spine spliced. Seconds later she was whole again, but not before settling her gaze skyward.

Pernicious filaments plaited collectively. They patched round the heavens, disfigured the moon and stars and sired chaotic lightning bolts.  She flexed her talons and inferno balls exploded. Their fiery bits rained destruction.

And as her gaze traveled across nations and between dimensions she observed a future event.  Jagged twisted beams jetted from the skyline like decayed teeth in a diseased jaw. A lone figure standing hillside shifted away as a wind raked over it. The odor it puked upon the earth was sour and burnt anything resembling life. For a moment however short it paused. Much work needed to be done. Now that the humans had destroyed themselves with atom bombs and missiles the crack in hell was sure to split wide open.

Had it a face it might have smiled. Instead of features a formless void bubbled in an oval shaped mass on a pencil thin neck supported by wiry arms and a trunk. Nightmares were its true appearances.

Madness crept into warped minds. War often provoked such measures. It took a step forward. It was more than a step to a mortal eye. No matter, as it was matter itself; shadows and darkness ready to be unleashed.

Devils breed most efficiently. From a heart of pure chaos, their design forged. They were not beings of the physical world although they could easily manipulate it and be any physical thing they desired. Their will was never challenged, their powers unlike anything mankind could understand.

Her concentration broke and the present swam around her.

It doesn't matter! Death was an eventual misfortune that buries them all! If anyone claimed to be immune they were idiots!  In my dreams where shades of gray corrode even the brightest light I succumb to the inner workings of desperation. It is not yet clear if I swallow tragedy or if it swallows me. I am a splinter of another, you see. Mystery upon antiquary drives a new vehicle, but it rarely does scribe importance. Then again it rarely does explore avenues less likely capable. Damn it anyhow. None of it will change anything.

Stroll through reality with the belief beauty is everything. It doesn't matter anymore! I wish I could stress this more.  Humans and their way of communication ceases once power hungry henchmen seize glory and fame. As night sinks further into decay the gates of hell will open and vomit upon this earth all its malice!

2

Then her breasts come into view. They are small bumps on her chest. One might think she was a pubescent girl just starting the ways of womanhood, but as she flexed her mind it came in a steady stream of information that she is far older.

We need the boy. He is a player in this game. Find the boy!

"The boy", Krosnos hissed. "We need the boy! He is a player in this game! Find the boy!"

The thing lifted a maggot infested head. A smile split open its cheeks and revealed rows of hooks for teeth.

"You are supposed to be in the nether realm, Mary," he roared. “Are you concerned for this wench?"

Mary followed his point to the bathing woman. A gravel voice came from its parted lips. "I am not concerned."  Mary peeked around the corner as the van veered off the beaten path.

I am not a he or she, but maybe I will be referenced as "she", she thought as she curled her serrated fingers around battered brick. Her elongated fingernails glinted in contact with the headlights gleam as the metal bulk turned into a tall grass patch where its engine spurted and died.

Doors opened and bodies jumped out. Curse words seemed to be the only thing they knew. Every other word was a stressed expletive that rushed color to their faces and encouraged pushing matches between two larger occupants. Squinting Mary tilted her head to one side.

Perhaps this is how they display dominancy or something. She tapped her ashen fingers as she counted all seven and muttered, “Seven little humans to play with in Hell's game.”

"Do you even know where we are," one of the females asked, punching one of the fighter's arms.

Mary slunk into the corridor. Darkness bathed her features as her colorless eyes glowed. She sprinted through moss covered stretches and hung a right. Each passing cracked window caught her elliptic pupils and highlighted her dark eyelids.

Scouters, Krosnos demanded.

No, Mary fired back. We are playing the game my way this time!

Don't be a foolish brat, Krosnos roared.

Mary laughed and leapt over a slanted pillar. She came to a sliding stop before missing her turn. Scaling an overgrown barrier she perched herself on top and watched the humans. They were thin sticks in the distance and yet as her focus sharpened she perceived them at close range.

The larger two males poured over the ceased engine. The followers milled around like lost cattle acting as though they were being useful by scouting out hangars and small work sheds. Then after finding nothing they all joined and approached the only place untouched by their prying hands and curiosity.

"Is that a house," a girl asked, her pretty ruby mouth turning into a nasty scowl.

It's more than a house. It's a portal.

"No one lives in that," another girl said and scoffed.

Nothing human anyway, but you will soon find out. What a cliché this is turning out to be.

"Mary," Krosnos bellowed.

Mary nearly lost her balance as she jerked to see Krosnos' shadowy mass hovering next to her.

"Start the game," Krosnos hissed. "I want to see blood!"

A memory that was, a memory it shall remain. As Mary slumped against the wall she rested her forehead against her knees as she drew them up to her chin.

What have I become? I can make up for it now. I can change it. I wasn't always...Krosnos' evil sidekick. It isn't in me anymore to...align myself with darkness. I don't belong there. Even while I played in it I refused to let it saturate me. That was why so many escaped Krosnos' games.