>> Relic Of A Dead World

  For a single, breathless, moment, there is silence.

  And then, absolute pandemonium. Rising like a flood to rip the team apart. Kami tears off my underlay with many hands. Demon lifting me, and dumping me into some kind of healing pod.

  Rubber and cables press against my back.

  "Spook. I...." Kami starts, fiddling with the brass case. "I hope this works. There's- SHIT! SHIT!!"

  "Give it to Demon."

  "What?"

  Demon takes the case from her. Whispering in a language so old that that the dark itself draws closer to listen. Echoes of ancient sigils burning the metal. Searing it red.

  He places it upon my heaving chest. Metal cold as the sides unfold. Reform. Gears and strange crystals churning inside it as something.... else takes shape.

  A ticking brass beetle, all built of wheels and cogs. And burning light, that shmmers inside.

  I touch its face. Voices echoing above me. Drifting further and further, as my heart trudges in my ears. A thudding step, at the edge of sleep. Or death.

  "Do it." I whisper. "Help me."

  Something thrums in the bones of my being. And then-

  Reality unfurls, into patterns and shapes. Curling around me. Carrying me away.

  "No! Wait! Badger.....!" I whisper in terror, as the last of the Lucidity drains from my mind. "I forgot.... I forgot about Badger..... I never even asked-"

  Is he alive?

  But the brass beetle a lantern, pressed to my chest. Huge, and golden, and beautiful. The light of its runes pouring around me.

  Gathering me up, like a puzzle once broken and scattered to the winds.

  "Badger...." I beg, as the shadows close. "Please. Tell me. Was he....."

  Is he dead?

  But Badger is there, in his little dungarees. Four years old, and covered in paint.

  So much smaller, and brighter, than I ever could be.

  "POOOK!!!" He waggles, running right at my face. Banging his head, and busting into tears.

  "Hey!!" I giggle, hugging the lil snotball to my shoulder. "You're okay. You're okay."

  "Owwwie!! Owwwie!!!!"

  "You're okay!!"

  I lift the brown lump, and swing him around. Though he's really too heavy .

  A chair rushes into being as I drop his lil butt. Gasping and laughing, and petting his head.

  "Miiii!! Miiii!!" Tufty calls, rushing to grab my knee.

  I laugh and scoop him up too. Plumping them side by side. "Can't believe you're seven, kitty boi. You're sooo tiny."

  "Obbb obbb obb!" Badger says, knowledgably. Hand stuck in his mouth.

  "And you're four. Dang."

  "I'M POUR!!" He agrees.

  Time glitches, and I raise an old camera. "Smile!!"

  "PEAS!!!" Badger flails happily. Tufty ducking his lil head.

  The instant freezing. Caught in amber. In glass.

  CLICK.

  I laugh too, and Tufty beams. The memory forever. And ever. And.....

  Badger and Tufty sit frozen in place. An imprint on shadow. A glitch in the world. My joy fading to sorrow, as all goes still. And quiet. And cold.

  "Wait." I whisper, as vines of blood pour up through the old kitchen door. Consuming its arch. Devouring the floor. "No. No. Not yet."

  The vines open eyes.

  Breathing clouds of pink powder.

  "No." I drop the camera, and it shatters to ash. Fire and dark roaring up around me. "NO! NO! NOT YET!!!"

  "But you know which year that was. Spook." The vine whispers. "You. Know."

  I start screaming. Screaming and-

  I jerk awake, Demon pressing me down. Shushing me. Calming me. My pulse a hammering roar as every second of our lives burns away to dust behind us.

  Relentless. Unending. Unstoppable.

  A trail of burnt moments. Of ashes, and photographs.

  All gone. And gone. And gone forever.

  "I want to go back." I whisper. Hugging his claw-edged hand. "I want to go Home...."

  And Demon does what none of us have, in a very long time.

  He holds me tight, and starts to pray.

  My breath stutters, and then soothes. My eyes slipping shut as I fall back into the abyss. One hand on the pulsing, brass, beetle. And it's magic of dreams, of shadows.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Of echoes, and whispers, and the end of all things.

  And for a long time, I sleep. Dreaming of light.

  But the vines of bloodied red root deep into my mind. Into my home, Opening flowers that drift that eerie pink powder.

  Coating my memories and eating them away.

  Megaxx.....

  I flee from it as red vines twist, and grow, and fill the dark with sneering eyes. Choking my mind, and snuffing out thoughts.

  Casing, and chasing, asI hurl myself toward Joan's great stone house.

  But the bloodied vines follow. Giggling and rustling. Shushing one another, like children in the dark. Eager for a treat. A snack. A Game.

  No. They can't have Joan. Not him.

  Anyone but him.

  I turn from the house, and it falls behind doors. Bolted, and locked.

  But that leaves only one other place.

  One I fear.

  And its Clown-covered walls rise from the fog. Dancing with shapes. With cartoons. With colours. With nightmares that leer - hungering for blood.

  But The School can burn, for all I care.

  And run for it gladly.

  Racing through hallways, all jagged and strange. Past Children without faces, in dagger-straight lines.

  Marching in lockstep. Chanting "Do As You're Told.".

  Past Playthings that tower, both malevolent and old.

  Past copies of Moon, in every strange guise. All nightmares, and parents, and teachers, and knaves.

  All turning to fix, with that half-silver gaze.

  "You can't win, you know." It slithers its voice. A thousand at once, and that once is but twice. "We are forever, you see! And you see it quite well! Touch the power within, and we'll DRAG YOU TO HELL!"

  "Not a chance, you dead snell!" I crow at its foul smell. "Not a chance, shall you kell, to drag me to Hell!"

  "Resisting, we are? What Silliness, and Games!" It tickles with glee, calling all sorts of names. "Why; Adults are bigger, and Smarter; you know!! We'll squash you right down, to be sure you don't GROW!"

  But The Red Right Hand FLARES.

  IT BURNS, AND IT GLOWS.

  THE OMEGA. THE ABSOLUTE.

  THE END OF YOU ALL.

  But Moon is behind me. All simpering with glee. "What is this? A great weapon?" The cad doth do shout. "A Hand that can kill, and wipe you all out?"

  And then. Like the slamming of the gates of Hell.

  It grips my face in both hands. Yanking me close. Close as breath.

  Crashing the feaverish rhythm.

  "Is it for ME? Little Spookiekins?" It hisses as dead teeth crawl up the unseen side of its face. "I think it is. Isn't it? That's why you're bringing it to me...."

  I stare at the weapon. And its flames scald blue.

  "Hell. Freakin'. No." I breathe. Pressing The Left Hand to its head. But Moon's smirk only gets wider.

  WIDER.

  And that garish, twisted, tempo rises back from the depths.

  "Then, oh bother! And oh dear! Not for me should you worry!"

  "Then who?" I snarl. A stupid little worry.

  Moon's smile is so huge. So perfect and wide. "Oh. But, it's THEM. And it's THEM!"

  And I turn, in a tar.

  Seeing, and shaking, as the world cracks and jars.

  For its finger does point. Like a rubbery strand.

  Longer. And Longer.

  Away and away.

  And something out there, in the terrible dark.....

  SMILES

  ....with a Love so terrible it poisons my heart.

  "Better RUN! Better HIDE!" Goads that shadow of Moon. "Mummy's coming! And she's GOT HER WOODEN SPOON!"

  And I do. To wakefulness.

  To Demon, and sobs. His voice worn, and broken. Torn, like a rag. But he keeps whispering, and guiding me. Pressing me back down.

  Begging ancient pleas, written in rock.

  And I fall again to peace, and haunting silence.

  To a place of safety, or so I hope.

  A memory of rushing water. Of little waves against rounded stones. A weaving cut between vast trees that spread wide and tall their bows.

  Stretching up like towers. Up, into the above.

  Their sides grown thick with many winding paths. All lit by little lights. With candles, and with sprites. And other strange things.

  And tucked with tiny coves of moss, and books, and scrolls.

  I lie back on softest soil. A whisper of dust pouring between my fingers. My toes combed by quiet waters. My mind a drifting leaf, spinning on an absent breeze.

  "It's over. Isn't it?" I ask, yet again. But Joan simply smiles.

  "Yes. You've been sick for a very long time. But we're finally at the end of it."

  I smile, lifting my hand to admire the tiny, glittering trio of scanner gems pressed deep into the surface. Appearing, and then vanishing, as I will.

  I reach out to the stones. But Joan stops my hand.

  "Not in here."

  "No?" I blink. Tail bobbing on the stirring stream.

  "No. Not here." He says. "Some things are too dangerous to know."

  I look up at the winding tresses of the trees. The tiny lights, darting here and there. The crystals, and the shadows. The laughter of children, faint against darkened eve.

  All the others are here, but they don't laugh. Not in this hallowed place.

  So who do I hear on the distant.....

  "Really?" I whisper back. And Joan looks at me. Softly.

  "This is The Forrest Of The Between." He breathes, in that voice he uses for stories. And I hunker up my legs. Pressing wetted paws to dusty earth.

  "Between?" I murmur. "Between what?"

  His eyes twinkle with distant stars. "Between everything."

  I suck a half breath. Tail twisted about my ankles. "Then.... then is it not our Forest?"

  "No." He hesitates. "But it is Mine. And you are always welcome here."

  Chills and prickles shiver and shock their way through my skin. As if he said words too vast, and terrible, and profound for a child to bear.

  I clench my eyes. My body curled tight.

  But he puts his hand om my fuzzy little ears. And a sob of relief goes through me.

  "I'm really going to be okay? Aren't I?"

  "You are." He smiles. "I've made sure of it."

  I wake with a delirious, shaking, shuddering gasp. My eyes rolling, in darkness. A hand touches mine. My fingers gripping it tight. Symbols fracturing and whirling around me. Gelatinous goop flooded over my body.

  Sticking to hair. To skin. Covering me. Surrounding me.

  "Mate! Hey, yeah! You're okay!"

  "Can't.... can't see...."

  "It's okay. Stay still. Stay still."

  But all that is ink is crowding in. And all death would take is a prick of my skin.

  "Can you truly save them all?" Says The Nobody Man. Pacing the edge of Joan's darkened stone office. A flicker of shadow upon light, as if candles still burn.

  "I will do what I can." Joan says, in a tired old voice. "And those I cannot, will live on in me. I will carry them. Always."

  "You should." The Nobody Man says. "You killed them. After all."

  "What...." I whisper. Both then, and now. "I don't remember this."

  Joan stops. His back to me. Nary a sliver, through the old wooden door.

  And then he turns. "Spook? You're up late."

  I push open the groaning arch. Blinking in the too-bright light. The candle is still, now. And he's alone.

  "Who were you talking to?"

  "Oh." Joan says, with a very sad smile. "Nobody at all."

  Dreams soak into dreams. Mixed and churned into a dance of terrible lights, and nightmares. The Nobody Man stalks them all.

  An imagined shape, with the face of Moon.

  I forgot those nightmares. But they never forgot me.

  And so I drift, in churning dark. In the world of myself, and the world others made in me. A place of secrets even I do not know. And cannot.

  "Joan-would-never-hurt-us!!!" Little Zipper yells, in a blur of too-quick-words. Stomping blue-nailed toes, as the others hiss and yap.

  "He wouldn't. He seemed sad." I pull the blanket tighter over us. All my friends all cluttered together. Nose to nose, in our hidden place.

  "Wouldn't he?" Whispers That Gloomy Girl. Her fine-scaled face blurred by time. By tears. By the burning of my mind.

  The sheets open up, and I fall into Hell. Into flames, into shadows. Into vines that scream with eyes of strangling hate.

  But this time, Joan is there. And he holds up a lantern.

  "No." He says, simply. "No, I don't think so."

  "It is mine." Giggle The Leering Vine. "Mine to keep. Mine foreve-"

  But Joan laughs. A gentle chuckle. A softening of lips, before the onrush of a storm.

  And then he says a word that shakes Reality itself.

  NO.

  The force of it blasts me back. Roaring around my legs, and my arms. Billowing mountains of dust, and ash, and flame, as all the vines are shattered.

  Drifting away.

  "Sleep now." Joan whispers. "Sleep."

  I sob. Quietly. And I run to his feet.

  "Who are you? Really?" I whisper, as he gathers me up. "Who?"

  "Sleep." He whispers once more. Placing me down in my old bundle of pillows and sheets. The cosy little nest I made, so long ago.

  The special one. The one I thought was secret.

  And he sits there with me, humming softly, as the dark claims my tortured mind.

  Filling it with true, and perfect peace.

  "And I'm going to be okay?" I whisper, one last time.

  Because, if there's one thing I've always believed in. More than anything.

  It is Joan.

  "Yes." He says. "I've made sure of it."

  > > >< < <

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