Where do things go if they become nonexistent?

 

That's me! he thought, I can't believe how weird I looked three years ago. And that hairdo, so awkward. Hey, that's her... I guess I owe her ten dollars, 'cause she made an A+ on that test.

The boy was ready to time travel to the present and bring news of his failure. He and his coworker made a bet about two things: he looked like an idiot when he was younger, and she made an A+ on the first test of the second semester that year. The boy was doubtful about her passing the test because almost everyone else received a D or F.

Right before he switched the watch to his own time, he thought of something. I should give myself the answers to the test! Yeah, that'll teach the smarty. And so, he switched the time to the night before, and planned to steal the answers.

He eventually found out the answers and then went to his old home. He remembered that the key was kept in the backyard under the rose bush inside the turtle statue. He unlocked the backdoor and went inside to tell his younger self the answers.

Everyone was in their rooms, like they always used to do that year. It was all study, study, study and bills, bills, bills that year. Now, since everyone wasn't aware of him, the boy snuck up to his old room and knocked.

The door was opened by a young boy not too unlike him. The younger boy stood, wondering if he was looking at a mirror that somehow altered his appearance. "Who are you?" the young boy asked.

"I'm the older you," the older boy answered, "Time travel is possible in the future."

"Really? Cool. So, why are you here?"

"To give you the answers to tomorrow's test."

"Really?! Gimme!" And so the young boy received the answers from the older boy, and they parted ways.

The older boy decided to time travel to the next day, after the test. He passed it. But, then something seemed wrong. Things started to... fade. Things started to go into... nothingness.

"Let me guess," a strange, ominous voice from nowhere said, "You decided to change your past. Good job, you just received your one-way ticket to the Plane of Unexisting."

"What?" the boy asked, seeming confused.

"You created a paradox, and the universe doesn't like that. Now, you don't exist anymore. But, since you once did exist, it'll be hard to completely erase you from existence. You see..." The voice paused, as if trying to gather its thoughts. "Once something that use to exist becomes nonexistent, it's difficult to remove that existence, especially if they're stubborn.

"Think about it as a computer would work. You delete a file, and it goes to the recycle bin. You 'permanently' delete everything in your recycle bin. Those things are still there, though, just in a small corner, readying to be overwritten. Until we gather enough existence to overwrite you, you will be stuck here, in the Plane of Unexisting. The corner where files wait to be overwritten."

"Wait... wait, wait! I can undo that!"

"No, you can't. You'll try to stop yourself from giving the answers to your younger self, but then that creates another paradox. If you had stopped yourself, then what reason is there to stop yourself? You see, your nonexistence is inevitable."

"What? No! No, no, no! NO!"

And so, the boy was put into the Plane of Unexisting. It was a place where there was... nothing. Absolutely nothing, except for the distorted cries and pleas of the non-existing entities. Time did not stop, but it did not go on. Time was not existing in this dimension. This one dimension that had no laws. No logic. Nothing. Nothing except for the nonexistence.

Over... time, the boy could feel (or rather, not feel) himself fading away. He could, however, feel something else. He felt new life. Specifically, three new lives. One was already born, and two were still in theirs mothers' bodies. One life was a wolf, one life was a human, and one life was... something. This is what it feels like to be overwritten? the boy thought.

"Boy," the ominous voice said, returning after all the untimely time, "You will become a small part of these lives. Yes, do you remember how you thought you saw something move, but there was nothing at all? That is what you will be. The something that moves, but can't move at all. You are nonexistent, but existing."

And so, the boy lived his un-life as a non-existing existence in the shadows of the three lives' lives. He would forever be such, even when all of the lives are dead.

 

Well, things go into the Plane of Unexisting, then become an existence in the lives of others as a nonexistence when they become nonexistent.

It's difficult to explain.

2: Hylophobia

Hylophobia.

The fear of forests.

 

"Dobranoc."

The Polish bartender would always say that phrase in the bunkhouse right before everyone was going to sleep for the night. Everyone replied "Thanks." or "Sankyu." or perhaps "Danke." ... But there was one boy, the new waiter, whose only reply was a small nod.

"What is wrong, my friend?" the Pole would ask the boy.

"No," would be the boy's answer, "No, nothing's wrong." The boy would receive a nod, and a smile. The Pole's smile was wide, bright, showing sharp canine teeth. The Pole's pale skin reflected the stars' light as he left. The boy could swear that the bartender, two Scottish cooks, and the British boy were all related. They all had the same skin and teeth.

The Pole's nod would be understanding, without understanding anything about the boy.

But, the boy understood something. Just... something. It was in the forest, just outside his window.

... But he could go to sleep once he closed the window's blinds. It was just something about the sight that made him uneasy...

 

The boy would be disturbed in his sleep. He would be awoken by a cold touch, but he dared not open his eyes. He could feel a frostbite breath, but he dared not yelp. He would be bitten by sharp teeth, but he dared not scream in horror.

Only after the bartender opens the door, hours later, would the horror fade away.

 

He would also experience this when taking out the trash, or perhaps greeting customers outside.

... He knew it was the forest. There was something about it, something alive, that came for him.

 

One night, he couldn't sleep. Not because of the forest, no, but because the Japanese girl was looking worried about something that day.

While preparing for the torment to begin, he heard screams. Screams in the forest. Familiar screams. The screams sounded like the times when the Japanese girl would scream at the British waiter for not doing something correctly.

The boy arose. Once he entered the hall, he saw that everyone else had risen as well. They all took flashlights and some took knives. The bartender took his handgun.

It seemed they were too late, though, because after hours of searching in the forest, they hadn't found the Japanese girl. And after they had all gathered again, four of them were missing.

The Polish bartender, British waiter, and the two Scottish cooks.

Gunshots were heard, then silence. The four (the new boy, the Spanish cook, and the twin waitresses) ran toward the noise, but found nothing.

They regathered, but then there were only three. One of the twins was missing. In despair, the other twin ran, and the other two followed; the twin disappeared.

The boy had a bad feeling, because he was having a deja vu every two seconds. As he was distracted by thought, he hadn't noticed that the Spanish cook had disappeared. Once he realized this, he started to run to the end of the forest.

He reached the end of it, but then was knocked out by... something. That something with the cold touch, frostbite breath, and sharp teeth.

... He finally dared to open his eyes... and he saw nothing. So, he got up and ran again.

As he was running, he became confused. Why am I running? he questioned himself. He seemed to forget everything that had happened, if anything had. He slowed down to a walk, feeling an odd sensation in his blood, and entered the bunkhouse.

He was greeted by the Polish bartender. "Do you feel okay, boy?" the bartender asked.

"I'm fine, I guess," was the boy's answer.

 

"Dobranoc."

The Polish bartender would always say that phrase in the bunkhouse right before everyone was going to sleep for the night. Everyone replied "Thanks." or "Sankyu." or perhaps "Danke." ... But there was one boy, the new waiter, whose only reply was a small nod.

"What is wrong, my friend?" the Pole would ask the boy.

"No," would be the boy's answer, "No, nothing's wrong." The boy would receive a nod, and a smile. The Pole's smile was wide, bright, showing sharp canine teeth. The Pole's pale skin reflected the stars' light as he left. The boy could swear that the bartender, two Scottish cooks, and the British boy were all related. They all had the same skin and teeth.

The Pole's nod would be understanding, without understanding anything about the boy.

But, the boy understood something. Just... something. It was in the forest, just outside his window.

... But he could go to sleep once he closed the window's blinds. It was just something about the sight that made him uneasy... it was just his hylophobia.

 

But he's just in a never-ending loop...

3: Gaiden Fort

Gaiden Fort. The last piece of humanity. One last struggle to live. The only Utopia left in the Chaos... or so the Harbingers say so.

It all started with a boy. He didn't know what he was doing, but he did know he was digging for... something. That something, though, became a source of power. Immense power. Not power of strength, no, but power of guidance. A beacon of hope that diminished all other hope... yes, it's difficult to explain.

Enough of my ramblings now, I believe you have a story to read.

 

"How are you?"

Alexander had no idea that those words were a crime. He thought he was just being nice to the Wealthy boy. Alexander was just a boy, though, so he had no idea that it was bad to speak with the Wealthy. Nonetheless, the Enforcers gave him punishment. Three days in the Play Pen. One for every word.

But the Play Pen wasn't as bad as Alexander thought it would be. It had other little children playing about. Yes, it was a nice sanctuary for poor Alexander... until the yelling came. And the screaming. And the pain.

Alexander didn't remember why it was so painful. He only remembered a little girl, seven years old, only two years younger than Alexander himself, dead. She was recognizable to Alexander. Yes, she was a friend... but now blood was in his vision.

... Wait. Now Alexander has forgotten what was so frightening about the girl's appearance. The doctors have patched up Alexander all the way, and the only thing he remembers is that there was a type of pain in the Play Pen.

Oh, enough of that. It's Alexander's birthday! Celebrate! ... But Alexander has no friends. No, he had one friend, but she disappeared after he was put into the Play Pen. Alexander also has no father, because he was sentenced into the Pen for three years. And lastly, Alexander's mother became Lost just last year.

Oh, so sad, there's a Loss in town. It was Alexander's friend that was Lost. She must have disappeared into Chaos. So sad, because Alexander will never see her again.

 

Now Alexander is much older. He's fourteen, at the age when he would probably do something to get him into the Pen. But he has been in the Play Pen, so how different could the Pen be from that? Yes, Alexander won't do anything stupid to get him into the Pen.

But... boys are stupid, aren't they? Perhaps, but Alexander was far from stupid... okay, maybe a little stupid. But I'd rather say he was ignorant.

Anyways, Alexander kept seeing an old man. More specifically, me. The Old Man. One of the ancient Lost. Yes, I told Alexander, "Sanctuary awaits you, and it is nothing like the one sanctuary you have been to. So grab a table knife, or perhaps two, and stab the Wealthy boy who had shamed you."

 

He did it. He stabbed the Wealthy boy that put him in the Play Pen those years ago. But... now he runs. Why does he run?

Why do I run? Alexander asked himself, Am I in trouble?

"Why, Alexander," I told him, "You may be in trouble, but your sanctuary awaits you, in the midst of Chaos. Retreat outside the walls into the Chaos, and you will see that there are plains past it that is not so chaotic."

He listened. He ran. He found what people called "Chaos".

He first saw abandoned buildings, in a grid-like pattern. There were black streets, instead of the white that is in Gaiden Fort, his home. He saw weird, yellow dotted line patterns on the streets; some lines were white, and some lines were connected as one long line. They were odd to Alexander, foreign.

Alexander went through a narrow alleyway. He tried to look for something sharp, because he could hear the Gate opening, and the hum of hundreds of hovercrafts behind him. Why was he looking for something sharp, though? What good would it do? Alexander did not know, but it was an instinct. But, Alexander did not find anything sharp.

 

Next, after running what felt like many leagues, he found an ice land. It was not cold, though, but instead kept the same temperature as everywhere in the Chaos. There were odd three-segmented figures everywhere. They had buttons on them, and carrots, and they were made out of spheres of whiteness. On one figure, the top segment looked like a face to Alexander. He smiled at the face, but then the face frowned.

"Run," the white, three-segmented figure said to Alexander, "Run, run." And so, Alexander kept running.

 

He next found a canyon, with red walls going high. The walls felt smooth, and the temperature was still the same. Alexander kept running through the canyon.

 

After what seemed like one hundred more leagues, Alexander found a large, grass-filled area.

"It is called plains," I told him. He looked around, trying to find out where I was, and how I had gotten there so fast. He found nothing but the echo of my voice.

After looking around confusingly, Alexander looked straight across the plains. He saw something: a large structure, towering over the plains. "Mountain," I said. He nodded in awe. He also noticed that the temperature changed, somehow. It felt more... cozy.

He also saw buildings. He knew that they were buildings, because there were people, as small as pebbles in the distance. "Home," Alexander said to himself. That was when I finally saw him.

I finally saw the boy. He stood at a normal height; he had light, brown hair that curled at the end, his skin was pale, as if seeing the sun for the first time in years (and this was his first time seeing the sun); his left eye was emerald green, his right crystal blue; and lastly, I noticed small freckles upon his nose and cheeks.

His appearance reminded me of myself when I was a boy... only he wasn't digging.

4: A Dialogue of Assumptions

"Hah! Bartender, get this man a red firespice wine. He deserves it!"

"Ahahah, I may deserve it, but do you deserve to pay for it?"

"And who said I'll pay?"

"Oho, now that's just an assumption."

"And why should assumptions govern who pays for what?"

"Well, the Coin Changers see to it that assumptions govern who should be punished for not paying what they owe."

"Someone called for firebrand wine?"

"That was me, and the Coin Changer there wants it."

"And my friend here will pay for it."

"Again with the assumptions?"

"Assumptions can give the best and the worst, friend."

"And why do you assume I'm you're friend?"

"Well, you aren't, because you've almost spat in our, that being the Coin Changers', face. Of course you're not my friend."

"Then I'd like to not be called things I'm not."

"Well, we're the Coin Changers, so we can call anybody what we want."

"And what about the girl? What do you call her?"

"A toy."

"And what do you call the woman?"

"A cow."

"And the boy?"

"A slave."

"And the father?"

"Well, you're the friend."

"Oh, am I?"

"Yes, you are. You're a friend that we'll kill. You're a friend, but a target."

"And how could someone kill their own friend?"

"And why are you so persistent with your questions?"

"It gives me time to make my peace with God. He and I have had a few quarrels."

"Oho, I bet so! You're an animal, you know that, friend? An animal!"

"Oh, but I'm not the one toying with a man's daughter, bossing around his son, and cursing his wife."

"But you are the one who massacred a whole State of the Nation. Why? No, more so, how? How did you, and how could you?"

"Well, let's just say that, like me and God, the Coin Changers and I have had some quarrels. You're not the first to confront me. Oh, and you're probably not going to be the last."

"Really, now? Well, if I could tell you that if you make a move against me, three snipers would shoot you in the head, what would you say?"

"I'd say that they're already dead. Really, you Changers and you're electronic vests. Hah, childish."

"… And now what? You're going to kill a man in a public bar?"

"Oh, no, no, no. I'm not that stupid, Changer. No, I'm going to kill everyone in a public bar. It masks the real mission behind it."

"So in order to keep people from knowing that there's a man killing Coin Changers, you're going to kill a mass of people?"

"That's why I 'massacred' a whole State."

"… Clever, I must say. Clever, but evil."

"Evil? Oh, no, Changer, this is just the tip of the iceberg."

"And so you're going to do worse? What, are you going to kill all that the Changers have changed? That could be all you love."

"Again with the assumptions. No, Changer, I lost all I loved back in the War. My brothers in arms, my family, my friends. Worst part is that it was all because of you guys, the Coin Changers. So, friend, it's time to make your peace with God. I know I have."

5: A Dialogue: Everyone is a Someone

"Look at that douche there! God, wish I could be him..."

"Yeah... I mean, he's know throughout the universe as the Lead Universalist, and everybody loves him."

"Why can't anybody remember us? I mean, sure, we're miners, but if we didn't exist, then that guy could've never have had the supply of plasma for his weapons and metals for his armor."

"YEAH! Why doesn't anybody remember our names? The guys and gals that have been forced to mine dirt in asteroid fields since infancy! Why can't they at least know our names?"

"Why can't he just know our names? Yesterday he called me 'Miss Miner'..."

"*sigh* ... Ya see guys, nobody remembers those who have honest, honorable jobs. They only remember the ones that mass murder whole species on thirty different planets."

"I don't even see why they think that killing a bunch of innocent aliens that don't even have a word for 'fight' just because we need resources is a good thing to praise people about."

"I just don't see how that man could be a part of the Universalist Christians. He's a killer, not a peacekeeper."

"That's just propaganda, John."

"That's another thing! WE HAVE NAMES! WE HAVE LIVES! WHY DON'T YOU REMEMBER US?!?!"

"Collin! Shush! The guards might take you..."

"I. DON'T. CARE ANYMORE. They should remember us! We're the lowly, poor, plain scumbags in their eyes! WHY CAN'T YOU SHOW HONOR?! EH, ASSHOLE?!?! ALL OF US AREN'T JUST LITTLE PAWNS FOR YOU TO MOVE ON YOUR BOARD!! WE ALL HAVE LIVES TO LIVE! WE'RE PEOPLE! EVERYONE HERE IS A SOMEONE!! WE MINED THOSE MATERIALS FOR YOU, AND WE HAVEN'T COMPLAINED, YOU PIECE OF-"

"QUIET! I will not tolerate you insulting our leader! Guards, let's get rid of him!"

"Guards, guards! My friend Collin here is just being stupid, please just ignore him. He's been taking medication, and this is one of side-effects. Please, just ignore him."

"... You're lucky, kid, that your friend here saved you. If I hear from you again, you're going to the dispatch bay."

"You just gonna let those guards look lowly on us, Collin?"

"Dan!"

"Hell no, Dan. HEY GUARDS! FU-"

"Collin!!"

"Okay, that's it, you little prick! Guards! This kid is going to the dispatch!"

"NO!"

...

"... That Universalist leader didn't even speak up... he just looked at us."

"He looked like he had pity... that pompous prick..."

"He's a coward... he can't even control those he leads. Where will the human race go to at this rate?"

"*sigh* ... History repeats itself. There was the Roman Empire, the United States of America, the Coin Changers, but all of them collapsed after due time... all do to weak leaders not knowing what to do with their vast power. This Universalist Empire will fall within its due time... just let us wait..."

"... Didn't the United States exist even after the Coin Changer War? I mean, they still had control over Texas..."

"Shut it, John; now's not the time to correct me."

"Heh, sorry..."

"Listen, miners!"

"Oh, yes, Universalist?"

"Due to your tricks, you all have been suspended from the launch bay for an additional five years!"

"WHAT?!"

"ANY REJECTIONS OR RETALIATIONS WILL BE NEUTRALIZED THROUGH THE DISPOSAL BAY!!"

"... U-understood, sir..."

"That Collin... he's always been a troublemaker..."

"Well, war never changes, eh?"

"Fallout? Really? That game was made three centuries ago..."

"Shut up. Anyways, I say we wage war."

"We'll all die."

"Sure, but for the better of the people here."

"They'll all die, too."

"For the better of the Republics!"

"They've already been silenced..."

"DAMNIT, JOHN, I'M TRYING TO BE INSPIRATIONAL."

"Just shut up; there's no hope for us."

"He's right. There's always going to be a poor class."

"Way to look on the good side, Alice... damn."

"Listen, Dan, there's always going to be an Us. The poorest of the society. The poorest of the commons. The poorest of the poor. So long as this species exists, we'll have those who are poor. Nothing can change that. We just have to live through it, okay? Just live through life until you lose your life. I I really hope to God that you die a natural, respectful death. I don't want to see you get launched into space without a suit and discover your body hidden amongst the asteroids like how I found Daisy, okay? So just shut up, and live life."

...

"... I'm quoting you on that."

6: A Short Story of a Boy and His Decision in Love

"You have to choose one of us," the blonde-haired girl commanded, deathly glaring at the boy.

"Which one, though," the white-haired girl deadpanned, also glaring at the boy.

"Y-you have to give me time to think," the boy said, wondering which decision would invoke the lesser wrath.

"No time!" The blonde was getting furious now.

"Yep, no time at all~," the white-haired girl sung, putting on a guise of cheerfulness.

"Okay… um, okay…" The boy was sweating bullets now. But then, he felt something. Not this again, he thought, Why now?! His blood began to boil. His hands clenched into fists. One of his fists landed upon the right side of the blonde's face. The boy's left foot ended in the white-haired girl's gut.

"M-Mark?" the blonde asked, her voice quivering, "Mark? Mark! Why?! Please don't!" Her screaming continued while the boy beat her to death.

"Mark?! What's wrong with you?!" the white-haired girl questioned, screaming her lungs out. Her lungs were removed, though, after the boy tore her apart into literal pieces.

No, neither, none. That would be his answer for all of eternity, until the thing that possessed the boy decided it was enough. Yes, his answer would be no. It is his choice, and th thing has no control his free will, but he does not know that. He blames the poor thing. That's it's reason for staying. Now, of course, in order to support his answer in love, the boy would have to act. Or rather, the thing would have to act, since the boy is incapable. The thing is only doing what it believes would be the less painful route down towards the city of truth.

The boy would yell into the air, throwing curses everywhere, letting out his rage that was created the moment the thing first killed his family. This cycle would possibly never end. Not until the boy would realise that he killed his family.

Oh, but the only phrase the thing would remind the boy of was: "Oh yes, love is hell. And you are, too."

7: A Short Story of Soldiers in Terror

“We’re all gonna die, aren’t we?” Every soldier asked the same question.

Every time, a high-ranking soldier would try to assure them, “No, no, we’ll fight and we’ll win. That’s what’s going to happen.”

But, even then, there’s cases like with Charlie squadron of the Bravo army. All of them were in chaos.

“They gave us twenty-first century shotguns! What the hell will that do when the enemy snipes us with plasma weapons?! This isn't 2000! It's the ninety-second century, damn it!!”

“Sir, we have barely any energy ammunition for our handguns, we’ll have to base ourselves around the close-quarters weapons.”

“You hear that? We’re doomed! Shotguns are useless against these monsters!”

“Everyone shut up!” the commander had ordered, “You will stand your ground!”

“But sir, I need some ammunition. I’m on my last clip for my shotgun. No rounds for my sidearm.”

“Corporal, give that boy some shells.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Now, I want all of you cowards to stand your ground, and-“ A gunshot was heard. No. No, no, no, the commander thought, I’m not even going to turn to the gunshot. Yeah, I know what just happened. The boy who asked for ammunition just killed himself, right? Well, that’s just what we need, right? Now we’re all going to think we’ll die.

“Holy sh-“

“Ya see, we’re all gonna die!”

“To hell with this! I say we leave, now!!”

“Agreed!”

“God knows we want to.”

“Now all of you wait!” the commander began ordering again, “Any of you leave, and I’ll shoot you. If you’re lucky, you’ll live.”

“S-sir? Surely you must be joking? We’ll all be dead at that rate…”

“I’m willing to do anything to stop the Winds from killing everyone on Earth, and you should, too, even if that means you’ll need shotgun pellets in your leg.”

“Sir! I object! I’m leaving now, and you can’t stop me!” A gunshot. This time, instead of a simple shot to the head, it blew off the man’s entire left leg.

 “MY LEG!! OH, GOD!!!!” The man’s yelling in pain was deafening.

“SIR?! What in the… HELL!! WERE! YOU! THINKING?!?!”

“All of you stay put, and I won’t kill you! All of you just stay where you are, and there won’t be any more deaths! All of you-“ This time, it wasn’t a gunshot from a human weapon; no, it was from the Winds.

“Enemy scouts!!”

“We’re all going to die! Oh, God!!”

And thus, each one of them were picked off by the Winds, and many of them lived through seeing their best friends being ripped apart by the things. If all hope is lost, what is there to gain? With no hope, there is only room for failure.

8: A Short: Capsule 9560 #1

"It's another weird capsule from heaven..."

"You know, this robot can tell us some useful things. Fix it up."

"Yes, sir. Okay, robot... number 1, capsule 9560... ah, you were put in the capsule after your species was destroyed, yes? And the first one, too, right?"

"I..." I started slowly, not use to speaking, and it felt as if my language system was damaged, "I... was into capsule put, and I was the one first believe... no, no, was one last put... I the capsules numbered backwards... I myself in capsule put."

"... Very well, we're going to take you into our laboratory to recalibrate you and make some repairs, okay?"

"Understand---Under... Understood..."

They took me into a hospital. It was very green, and I supposed that they couldn't depict green as green; perhaps they saw white when looking at our green. Our? Who is... us? Who are 'we'?

They repaired my broken parts and made sure that my nervous and memory systems were untouched, but if something in them was damaged, they carefully repaired it. Soon, I felt as good as I had when my first pill was taken in year 4251. Oh... yes... that year... that year I stopped being an organism. The year I killed my family and the last of normal people... the year before I killed the two girls... and I realized what the thing meant... what my conscious meant. That was the ear I stopped being Mark, and started being Prototype 4236-51-1. ... No, no, no... too many memories flowing back. I don't like this.

They wanted to hear the story of my species and world. From the beginning. Since we were first created. Sure, they had know our species for centuries, and we had known theirs, but we knew little of each other, besides the different languages we used.

I started the story, but at the year 3000.

The Universalist Empire fell. Weak leaders. Especially the Fifth Lead Universalist, Ballik Rorahs, who was stopped by Collin Jacobs, Daniel Hooker, Alice Bridge, and John Packer, all 'lowly' human asteroid miners...

Because my species lost their control on the universe they had through the Universalists and no one was in control, there was mass chaos. To do something about this, scientists made pills that could control what people say, do, and think. Soon these scientists indirectly ruled the world. Everyone thought the same thing, did the same thing, etc. The only unique people were the scientists that ruled. Of course, the scientists wanted normal people, so they had families together. They saw that perhaps eventually the species would just follow the pills, and they were frightened of their creation.

By the year 4500, people's eyes were replaced with electronics, as well as food becoming simple liquids. Teeth were removed and everyone looked like cyborgs. I was born as one of the ruling scientists in 4236. I was forced to take the pills in year 4251, and had implants when I became 'unstable' in 4254, after I brutally murdered two common girls. I lived for what seemed forever after that...

By year 5000, people's limbs were being replaced. By 6000, our species was starting to be mass produced by robots. I remember when I created my first clone... I named it Clone Wonder, because she was quite a wonder...

7000, God decided to deplete half the population of robots; as in, they all just shut down and turned to dust. Year 8000, God spread a mighty wind and killed everyone except the few robots and clones in capsules, and maybe a few sturdy robots underground. The wind lasted for ten centuries, and I was in my capsule during that length.

9000, our planet was desolate. No original organism remained, only robots and clones. I escaped my capsule to discover that my scans only found three life signs on the planet, and eight signs of functional robotics. The three life signs were my own clones, as I put them in cyborg capsules. I released them and made relatively normal capsules for them, then launched them into space. I did the same for the eight robots and cyborgs. Then, I did it for myself. I drifted for an eternity.

"Oh, so those things were yours. Well, we've bred them and now they're a part of our society. Their like second-class citizens. We haven't found any robots or cyborgs, though, so we don't know much about those."

I spoke, "Good..."

"So... what planet are you from, robot?"

"... What planet?"

"Yeah, I mean, what world are you from. What did you call your planet."

"... Earth."

 

(If you read the other "A" stories, then the ending may not be a surprise...)

9: Shadows (and Faces): Silhouette

"But what do you think it is?" my twin sister asked.

"I don't know, but it has to be real, right? I mean, both of us see it," I replied, still shaking a little from the sight of that... thing.

"I guess it has to be real, but what is it? It's really scaring me." She tightly holds me in an embrace.

"I know, it scared me, too."

"Can't you two just stop your wild imaginations," my eldest brother, John, had commanded, "Monsters aren't real."

"But we saw it! And it keeps writing notes for us!" My twin looked as if she was about to slap John.

"John!" my sister, Alice, called from downstairs, "Where do we keep the rags again?"

"In the left cabinet in the laundry room," John called back.

"We're completely fine," I started, "We don't need any cold rags. It's not like we have fevers or something."

"Well, something has to make you two sane again," my brother, Dan, commented.

"Shut up! We know what we saw!" My twin was up in a rage again.

"Fine, fine. Say that this thing is real," John told, "How's come we can't see it?" My sister and I didn't answer. We knew that he wouldn't believe us.

"Hey, uh," I started, "I think that we... both just need some rest."

"That's reasonable," Alice panted, after running up the stairs.

"Geez, you need to work out, Alice," Dan teased.

"Shut up!"

"Both of you shut up," John commanded, "And you two twins just get some rest."

"Okay," the two of us replied.

Everyone left the room except for my twin and myself. We looked at each other, still frightened by the weeks that we've seen this thing.

This thing has been haunting the two of us for three weeks now, ever since our parents left on a business trip. It's not very harmful... physically, but it damaged our sanity. It's a very creepy thing to look at, as it's just a... shadow. It has no physical features, except for it's black-as-night figure. It's been leaving notes around for my sister and I, but once we read a note, it somehow gets misplaced.

So far, we've seen notes like this:

 

'Hello, children. I am a faceless cousin of someone you may be familiar of. My cousin is... well, he just Is. He is Slender and a Man. Tall, too. You know, the one that casts shadows, distorts electricity with static, and gives people headaches? Hm. Now, I wish not to harm you, as I am too bored to do so. I would only like to play a game. Kids like to play games, correct? Well then, let it begin. The game is to find out who in this house is... me. I disguise myself as one of your siblings. Find out who it is...'

'Hello again. It seems that you have no idea who to suspect yet. All of your siblings seem to reject the idea that something like me lives here. In that case, I will give you several hints. I cannot leave the property of this household. That means if someone can reach the street or another house, they are not me. Also, if you see me and do not see someone's face while I am physically near you, then that person could be me. It's hard to explain. Of course, I do try to block out everyone's face when I am near you. It makes the game more fun.'

'It's nice to see that one of you has figured out that John is not me. He ran out into the street after seeing you, girl, almost get hit by a car. Of course, now Dan questions your sanity. This game may be over soon. Hopefully. Have fun.'

 

It's spoken to us a few times, but too quietly that we couldn't hear it. We guessed that it's a girl, by the sound of it's voice.

We haven't seen anyone's faces when it's around; we haven't even seen each others' faces. Only when it disappears do we see our siblings' faces. And apparently they can't see it, even when it's right in front of them.

 

We sat down on my bed.

"I'm not going to sleep until that thing is gone," my twin stated.

"I don't feel like sleeping, either," I mumbled, still upset by the thought of the shadow thing.

"At least we know it's not John. After all, he went outside to get me off the street."

"Yes, but it could still be Alice or Dan."

"Well, I guess that I can run out again."

"Not until John goes to get groceries, because he could try to go out and the whole action would be pointless."

"Hm, that's true." Just as she finished talking, we heard the front door open, then close.

We went downstairs to find Dan and Alice in the living room near the front door.

"John went out," Dan told us. And that's when we both dashed out of the door.

Dan was near us, so he quickly caught my arm. Alice tried to run after the other twin, but only caught up after they both had crossed the street.

It must be Dan. Once everyone was inside, my sister and I looked at each other, determined to end this game.

We went into the kitchen and found a note.

'You probably think that you know by now. Well then, go on and kill me. It's been a fun game, and I could use some rest.'

My sister grabbed the butcher knife, looking crazy. She dashed into the living room, and I heard screaming. I casually walked in to see Dan dead and Alice trying to hold back my twin. Blood was on the floor and walls. A mistake.

"You're a fool, Anna," I said to my 'twin'. Both girls looked at me directly at my face. They then screamed.

10: (Shadows and) Faces: Disease

"Are you sure there weren't any bats upstairs?" Cecil started getting worried.

"Yes, I'm sure. The window is broken, though, so birds might get in," Joseph answered nonchalantly.

"It can't be just birds; I'm sure that something heavy has to be up there," Cody commented, twice as worried as Cecil.

"Oh, man... Look, monsters aren't real, okay? Just try to forget that movie we watched yesterday," Cecil said, trying to comfort my scared brother.

"What about you, Sarah, what do you think?" Joseph asked, curious as to what I, the youngest, would say.

"I'd say it's something that we can't see. I mean, there's plenty of light rays that humans don't see. Take UV rays for example; bees and birds can see that, but we can't."

"Birds and the bees, eh?" Joseph and Cecil laughed.

"Not that... God." I sighed in disappointment that I had brothers that joked like such.

After some silence as everyone finished their breakfast, I started, "Of course, it could also be something that we are able to see, but we refuse to believe it."

"What do you mean by that?" Joseph and Cecil smirked at each other because they spoke in unison (like they always do; it must be a twin thing).

"I mean, it could be something like... well, take some Swedish folklore for example; there were things that people refused to see, but those things ended up giving them the Bubonic Plague. They refused to see a giant raven with holes in its wings appear at night. Just look up 'Night Raven' or 'Nattravnen'."

"Oh, you and your hobbies," Cecil commented, sounding quite sarcastic for some reason.

After that, everyone decided to do their own things. Cecil and Joseph started watching TV, Cody went to his room upstairs, and I started playing a game on my phone. I got a new personal record with candy-crushing, and I decided to quit after only a few minutes. The faint banging could still be heard in the attic and my two eldest brothers were still watching TV, making some jokes now and again.

It was when the commercials started that we heard Cody yell. I yelled up to see if he was okay, and he yelled back for us to get up the stairs. Cecil and Joseph got up from their seats and ran upstairs while I started to ascend at a walking pace on the stairs. Once I was up, I saw what was wrong... Cody was coughing up blood, and a good amount, too.

"My God, Cody," Cecil started, "Are you okay?"

"Does it look like I'm freakin' okay?!" Cody replied, "I'm coughing up blood, dang it!"

"Does it hurt?"

"Kind of."

"How did this happen?" I questioned.

"I don't know. I was just playing on my computer when I coughed." His breath was a bit wheezy.

"Sarah, get me a phone," Joseph commanded.

"Are you going to call mom about this?" I asked, handing him my phone.

"No, I have to call Doctor Woodruff first. Cecil, why don't you call mom?"

"Okay," Cecil responded, "Oh, geez, I hope you'll be okay, Cody." Cody started coughing up more blood uncontrollably as an answer.

"It might be asthma," I stated, "It runs in the family, after all."

"Sure, but I haven't had an asthma attack involving blood before," Joseph commented.

The doctor arrived, and he confirmed my statement; Cody had a horrible asthma attack. Doctor Woodruff said that he'll need to keep an asthma inhaler on his person from now on, because he has one of the worst cases of asthma or something. Cecil said that our mother had been notified and told that it was a bad case of asthma; she started driving back to the house. Eventually, Doctor Woodruff left and Joseph and I tried to explain how asthma would affect Cody's life from now on.

The thing is, I felt twice as worried as Cody was when we talked about the attic that morning, because the banging stopped and Cody was still wheezing a little. Of course, at the time I thought it was just paranoia.

Well, days went by and we didn't hear anything in the attic, although Joseph did find feathers in there. We concluded it was birds after all, and Mom questioned us further about the attic. She also questioned about Cody; he had been fine for the past few days after the incident, but Mother was still worried about him.

Another week passed, and Cody started coughing again. This time, we couldn't stop it.

"I think we need to call an ambulance!" my mother had exclaimed.

"No," Cody coughed, "No need to over-" He coughed blood into his shirt. "Overreact."

"Overreact?!" Cecil yelled, "She and I have right to overreact! You're coughing blood up and on your shirt!"

"Enough yelling," Joseph commanded, trying to calm everyone, "I'll take him to Doctor Woodruff." He paused. "And somebody take care of those birds in the attic; they're back."

"I'll take care of that," I volunteered.

"I will, too," Cecil said, "I don't have anything else useful to do."

"Okay," Joseph started, "Cody, come on."

"I'm going with you two," Mom declared.

"Okay." With that, the three left, leaving me and Cecil with the attic.

We got some brooms to fend off any birds and got under the trapdoor. "I've always thought attics were creepy," Cecil had stated.

"Me, too," I replied. We opened the trapdoor and sprung out the ladder-stairs thing. Cecil did the 'ladies first' on me, so I went up with him following behind me. The attic was relatively empty except for some tubs full of old clothing and some boxes we used when we first moved in. Oh, and the bird.

It was a blackish-purple, completely beautiful. It had smooth feathers that looked more like groomed fur. It was facing the tubs with clothing. It didn't make a sound, but it gracefully twirled around. Then, it cawed.

It lifted it wings and flew toward us. Cecil fell to the ground for some reason, and I tried to fend off the bird with my broom. It went back to its spot by the tubs and I crouched down to Cecil. He looked like he was out of breath and he had just had a heart attack.

"Are you okay, Cecil?" I asked him.

"Oh," he groaned, "I feel like I just got hit by a train."

"Cecil, what happened?"

"I don't know, I think that that bird overwhelmed me or something." He tried to stand, only to collapse to the floor.

"It's going to be okay. I'm going to get you out of here." I looked to where the bird had flown to, only to see that a single feather was left in that spot.

"I hope you can... carry me, Sarah, because... I can't stand. Not even with your support." He spoke in between pants.

"Really, you're that worn out?"

"I can barely... talk."

"Okay, Cecil, I just hope you're not too heavy." I got him in my arms and started down the ladder-stairs. On the way down, I caught a glimpse of an old newspaper in the corner of the attic; it had a bird on it with holes in its wings... it looked familiar. Well, I set Cecil down on the floor and pushed back the ladder and trapdoor.

"You're a bit heavy, Cecil," I stated.

"And you're a bit strong, Sarah," he complimented, looking up at me.

"Oh, thanks. Ah, and uh... hey, I saw something up there in the corner."

"I saw it, too. A newspaper, right?"

"Yeah, I remember that mom put it there when we first moved in."

"Of course you remember that all that time ago, Sarah. Hm, you're a bright kid."

"Um, thanks. Anyways, I think I saw..." I paused to think. What was it? I thought, Hm... the Night Raven, right! "I think I saw the Night Raven on that newspaper."

"You mean that myth thing you talked about this morning?"

"Yeah."

"Huh, well, I guess you were right about that being in the attic." He sounded sarcastic.

"What do you mean by that?"

"It's in the attic, on paper."

"Oh, I see. I never said that it was in the attic, though, I just talked about it after talking about the attic."

"Hm. Right. Well, I feel a little better. Help me up."

"Okay." I grabbed his hand and pulled him up.

"Just got to say, I think you're too old for Hello Kitty."

"What? What are you talking abou-" I instantly slapped him once I figured out what he was speaking of.

"Heh, sorry 'bout that."

"Sure." We went downstairs and Cecil grabbed a glass of water. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I feel better. I still don't get why I fell, though." I started to think, then began asking questions.

"Did you see anything strange about the bird's wings?"

"No... well, I feel like something was off, but I don't know."

"Well, I remember holes in the wings. Do you?"

"Yes! That's it! Wait... that's... that's the raven thing you talked about, right?"

"Yeah..." We stared at each other in disbelief. Then, we heard the phone ring.

"I'll get that," Cecil quickly said. He went to the phone and picked it up. After a few seconds, he exclaimed, shocked, "Sarah, it's horrible! Cody's dead!"

"How?" I asked.

"He died of blood loss... he started getting a bloody nose and... they said it was caused by a disease."

"A disease?" I started to ponder. A disease... the Night Raven is patron of disease...

"This is horrible!"

"Yes, but it might be worse... I think that the raven upstairs had something to do with this. The Night Raven is the patron of disease, you see..."

"Wait! Joseph started coughing up blood, Sarah. They think it's the same kind of case."

"What?" Just as I said that, Cecil coughed into his hand. Blood dripped from his palm.

"Sarah... if anyone comes across the Night Raven, what happens?"

"Well," I slowly started, realizing everything, "Men get sick and die quickly, but women aren't affected as bad. Sometimes, there are even side effects for the men."

"Side effects?" He coughed again, keeping his head low.

"Well, turning into your own shadow, becoming a myling, rising from your grave... and other curses."

"I... I thi-" He stopped talking and lifted his head. "Semeh... mmh mmhth ehs sdehehm duhhehe!"

"You're... mouth can't... open? It's shut?" I trembled.

"Mhm... hm?!"

"Cecil? Cecil?!"

 

That was the last moment I had with my step-brother before he turned. The moment he did, he attacked me... and I killed him with my broom. Mother never came back, and there was a news story about the hospital nearby. Everybody there got sick and died... some bodies were never found. Actually, only female bodies were found.

11: Unconditional Love

This world is cruel. Why must I be the one to wait for them to die, then carry their souls away? It can drive one insane. Oh, but there's always the special case. Such as the poor lady who was going to commit suicide, but a certain angel saved her life.

I kept my eye on this lady for a while. She had the intention to kill herself ever since her life started going downhill. She gave birth, but shortly after her husband died in a house fire. Her house burned down, but she was allowed to stay with a friend of hers. She lost her two jobs at the time, and she had to spend a week looking for open jobs.

One night, she was fired for the seventh time in a row; this time it only took two days for her to be thrown out. It was as if God was putting her through trials that always end with her being guilty, even though she hadn't done anything. She discovered that her mother died of cancer, and her friend was going to leave the apartment to go to the big New York City. She would have to find another place to live. Her favorite work dress was ripped by a rusty stair railing, and she was dragging herself to the apartment in the cold, unforgiving rain.

She entered the apartment, both physically and mentally worn out. She had to walk three miles in the rain because her friend was out and she didn't have any money for a taxi. She saw her hired nanny getting ready to leave, despite the fact that she wasn't supposed to until later that night. Her hired nanny told her that she won't babysit unless if she gets money.

And so, the young lady slumped herself down on the sofa, and was on the verge of tears. She heard a bird hit the window, and she threw herself up to take a look at it. The window was cracked. She banged her fist on the window in anger, and it cracked even further, then she banged again, harder, and the window shattered. The lady's hand was bleeding from cuts formed by the glass shards.

She heard her little son mumbling to himself, playing with some toys. She went and, with the little strength she had left, picked up the infant and put him in the highchair, and heated up and served some chicken bits. She grabbed the mail and sat down at a chair. The chair broke, sadly, and she stood up again and sat in another chair. She was ready to cry. When she saw the mail, and specifically the bills that she just couldn't pay, she finally cried. She wanted to die, and I could see that soon she would attempt to kill herself in any one of the variety of ways that I've seen too many times.

But then, when her son saw her broken and crying, he took out his pacifier and offered it to his torn mother. The lady, still sniffling, looked at her son and took the pacifier. She then began to... laugh. She laughed happily, stood up, and kissed her angel on the forehead.

Because of that unconditional love, I knew she would live for at least another forty years.