Hm. Sounds like chick lit from the title, doesn’t it? Well it isn’t. Really. Quite far from it.
This is written under my pseudonym, Morgan Mars. It’s also completely unedited, as that’s one of the rules of NaNoWriMo: to kill/“send on vacation” your inner editor. Also, there won’t be any italicized text or bold text, as there are in the .doc file I have, as it’d take much too long. I’m pretty sure you’ll be able to figure out what the breaks mean. P:
And now, without further ado, the featured presentation.

EDIT:
Oh freakin’ shnizzy. It appears that the breaks have made various sections become bold. Notmyfault. Honest.

–-—-–

1
“You must be feelin’ pretty sorry for yourself right now. No one around for miles, not even an animal to hear you scream.”
“You’ll be just like the animals then. I’m not giving you that pleasure.”
She’d said that before, many times in fact. It’s easy to say to people you know, and even to the various colors of scum you meat on the streets of almost any large city in America. But this was different. Now she was with someone absolutely new to her. And if what the man said was true, then she was probably in the middle of nowhere as well. Julia had to force the words, she almost choked on them and then she regretted saying anything at all. Sharp intense pain suddenly gripped her face. Frigid pins and needles poked at her cheek, followed by the relentless heat of blood flowing to the blow. It was sure to leave a nasty bruise. The icy sweat that poured down her back and soaked the blindfold just added to what seemed to be a child’s game.
Children are blessings. They can also be curses under certain circumstances. Children have hurt, maimed, even murdered. And whether by accident or with purpose, they can inflict wounds worse than a broken arm or a blown off leg. Worse even than death. Julia’s mid wandered off to her younger days. The days of grade school. Nothing ever seemed to go wrong back then. But then the older kids started paying attention to you. “Hey girl! Come ‘ere!” the voice echoed in her mind, “Hurry up will ya, I haven’t got all day!”
Skipping over, the girl was all but carefree. “You wanted me?” she asked in a cheery tone. “Yeah, we wanna play a game.”
“What kind of game?”
“The fun kind. After school, meet us here on the playground, we’ll show ya how to play.” With no suspicion, the girl had agreed. The first of many mistakes had been made.
“Hey! What’re ya doin’? I asked you a question!”
She was suddenly awakened from the haze of memory; though she didn’t know which world she preferred more, the then or the now. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I said,” the man began, putting extra emphasis on said, “’Why do you think I brought you here?’”
“Because you’re a sadistic moron,” Julia retorted.
“Wrong answer.” The last syllable had barely been uttered when Julia felt a horrible pain race down her from her nape, down her spine and into every nerve in her body. It was all she could do to not put her tongue into a death-grip between her jaws, and it took all that she had to keep her promise. All manner of unpleasant feelings embraced her whole. Knives that weren’t there slashed and stabbed at the helpless figure. Fire hotter than the pits of hell enveloped her very being. Cold, icy, frostbitten blood ran through her body, bringing such pain that Julia felt as if she had ventured into the realm of Absolute Zero. Julia’s stomach tied itself in knots, and forced its contents up the narrow esophagus and into her sown shut mouth. Her heart raced, faster and faster, and the icy blood that seemed the bane of her death flowed through, leaving no limb untouched, no organ unscathed. Oxygen remained in her lungs, but it was thick, and getting thicker. With every breath, it seemed as if she were sucking in poison that would offer her freedom from the pain, though no such abolition came.
“Wha- what,” she started, “the hell w- was that?” But before she could get an answer, darkness enveloped her, leaving her question hanging in the air and unresolved.

“*”

Swirling colors of every shade and hue, chaos in the vividness of imagination. As the reds exploded into the tranquility of a field of yellow, the oranges sliced the blue and separated the seas. A purple ring fell into green, and was enveloped in the moss of emerald. Suddenly the conquered shades of plum burst forth, rapidly forming a network of vines painted with every tinge of the royal colour. And all at once, the vibrant tones of the rainbow were consumed by the earthy hues that had been encroaching on the barriers of infinity. Battles broke out between the browns and dull greys; the watery blues and sea greens marched in organized ranks toward the armies of the skies.
Then black. Not black though, dark red, and not even. The darkness gave way to light, which in turn surrendered to patches of cream white, crimson red, and sky blue. The man had woken up, and his room was, as always, was dark and dusky. As he opened the window, light poured through onto the bedding, which dimly reflected its red pigmentation on the dingy white walls. This was home, or at least part of it.
Jonathan Finch was an average man. He did what everybody else did. He worked, he ate, he worked more, then slept. But in his average lifestyle, he was extraordinary in every respect. This curious contradiction was in no manner strange if you knew the man. He was an artist. He painted what he saw, but not in life, no, Mr. Finch made masterpieces of his mind, his dreams. For exactly one week he worked on one massive compilation of his chimera. If he did not finish the image of one night’s dream, he would add to it with the next. Never would he finish a detail from one day on another; memory was a beast not to be trusted. His middle school days alone had proved that. Despite his success, Jonathan was not a rich man, though he sold everything he placed on the market (save old clothing, but he had long since given up on that). He was a charitable man, and gave to various charities that supported a good cause. He lived in a wonderful, small, colonial-era house outside of Savannah. Purely he owned this, for he had bought it all at once. Never had he had to face the atrocity of an adjustable mortgage, nor the frets of a fixed rate. Paying taxes was not a large issue; Jonathan enjoyed helping the government. The fact that most of the charities he donated to were tax-deductible helped his ability to bear the hated month of April.
Mr. Finch allowed himself one visit to the city a month. He would visit his many friends, acquaintances, business associates, and from time to time, even the baker. George Ferris made one mean garlic loaf. More often than not, Jonathan would give his many companions discounts on his numerous artworks before he officially put them on the market. He was a well-liked man, and he was a trusted confidant.
He was quite an average man. He went about his life in a very usual manner. An average man, and a terrifically extraordinary one at that.

“*”

“I’m stepping out for a bit, I’ve got some business to take care, but be certain of this,” and letting the words hang in the air and ferment, the man let loose a horribly sadistic grin, “I’ll be back.” A door creaked open, letting in the bitter night air. The sound of a car grating over a gravely road faded into the silence of twilight.
Wait. Wait. Waiting. Wait more. Wait longer. Keep waiting. Something will happen. Something must happen. Not alone. Never alone. Or always alone. Forever alone. No. Deny it. Someone will come. Someone has to come. Wait. Wait. Wait.
“O Lord, I’m going mad. No one’s gonna come for me. No one even knows I’m missing. I was so stupid. Went to a party. STUPID. STUPID! I never should’ve listened to that big, lying, TV. Nothing good ever comes from watching commercials. Oh God, I really am going nuts.” She rambled on in such a fashion for what seemed to be ages. If merely the sound of her own voice could beat back the fear stabbing at her very soul for just a moment, even the appearance of insanity would be worth it.
SNAP!
Julia silenced herself as soon as she heard the sound. What was it? A car door closing? The crunch of gravel under the foot of a heavy, nightmarish man? Perhaps it was harmless. A squirrel. No, squirrels don’t come out at night. A bat maybe? Not likely. Then what? “Okay, here it is. This is the place I was tellin’ you about.”
“I don’t see what’s so special about it.” “You don’t have to. You just have to prove you’re no kitten.”
“I’m not a kitten!”
“Then prove it.”
Two voices. One seemed older than the other. The younger was… a girl? No, a boy. A young boy. Maybe twelve, no younger than eleven. The older seemed sixteen. Numerous voice cracks, certain words not seen as polite in a cultured society, the hallmarks of a modern schoolboy were all present in the older boy. But should Julia put forth a comment? Or might her frightened voice scare them away. No, she would have to speak, for the safety off them all.
“Hey! Kids, come ‘ere!”
“Oh God there’s some drunk in here!”
“No!” she insisted, “I’m tied up here. I’m blind folded too, so just follow my voice if you don’t have a flashlight.”
“Alright, hold up a bit,” the older boy replied. There was a short clanging of metals, some pressure on the back of her head, then a bright, white light.
“Ow! Get that thing out of my face!”
“Sorry, Miss.” The younger boy let down the light, allowing her to see clearly. The boy was wearing a huge padded coat, causing his arms to stick out an angle from his torso. The lower half of his face was covered in a patterned red, white, and blue scarf. Atop his head sat a hilariously unruly mop, orange and almost appearing artificial. But Julia was not one to judge in a time of crisis.
“Hurry up and untie me!”
“Alright, alright! Jesus, you’re whiny!” The boy flicked out a switchblade and started sawing at the binds. He was dressed much less absurdly than his younger peer, though his hair was no exception to the obvious wannabe rebel lifestyle that these two lead. Black through and through, save the three blue streaks that enhanced the idiocy of modern teens. His black hooded sweater had a skull imprinted on the shoulder, and “Never Ever” on the opposite sleeve. A strange boy to be sure, and his black skinny jeans didn’t help. As the boy finally cut through the last loop, Julia vocalized, “Now come on, we’ve got to get out of here.”
“Why?”
“Yeah, why?” the younger one added. Apparently he was furiously in contest for his older fellow’s appreciation.
“I was kidnapped and brought here by some creep with a knack for hurting people. In fact, let’s say he can get under people’s skin.”
“Seriously?”
“Why would I freakin’ lie about something like this? I don’t think that sadistic punks are really something to joke about.”
“Yeah. Whatever. How do we know this isn’t just some scheme set up by our parents?” “I don’t even know who the hell you to little brats are! How would I be in on some scheme set up by your parents to get you to behave?!”
“You don’t have to know our names, all you need is money.” The teen was about as rebellious as a citizen of Czechoslovakia. That was not the best thing at the moment. “Hey, ya know what? I don’t freakin’ have time for this! If you wanna be horribly tortured in unimaginable ways, go ahead but I’m getti–” Julia was immediately silent when she heard the sound of a car slowly rolling up to the shack. They had to hide, fast. She grabbed the two wannabe Sons of Liberty and looked for a shelter. There was a door near the back, if they were lucky, it would be a way out.
Luck is nonexistent in every aspect of the entirety of everything within the known universe. If Karma existed, it was a cruel thing indeed. But regardless of the nonexistent factors of “what if” and “shoulda, woulda, coulda,” life did have it’s happy surprises. The door lead into an even smaller space, and even better, had no way of seeing anyone within its threshold. The door was solid as well, so it would not rattle as they shuffled to become incognito.
“I’m back girly. Oh how I do hope you’re still awake.” A door closed as the last ear grating words left the monster’s lips.
“What the fuck…?” WHERE THE HELL DID SHE GO?!! She’s such shit!” These exclamations were soon followed by other absurdities, though the stream of curses unto mankind and everything besides soon came to an end. “Don’t lose yourself. You’re still in control. Yeah, I’m always in control. Either she’ll come back, or I’ll find her again. It won’t be hard. She leaves such a wonderful trail that I can’t help but be seduced by it. She’ll be back. I’ll find her. But first I should…” His voice trailed off as he closed the door behind him. Silence. At least an hour of it. Darkness, consuming the silence.
The kid broke the hush first. “Who was that?”
“Already told you.”
“I believe you now.”
“I’m sure.”
“Can we go?”
“Soon.”
“Okay.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m scared.”
“Me too."
“Kittens.” The unmistakable sound of the punk’s voice ruined the moment in one fell swoop. Julia was tempted to lecture the kid, but felt that it was not the time. Some things need to be resolved by letting the two conflicting powers talk. It’s a terrible truth of the world, but not everything can be resolved by intervention. Everyone has there own ways of dealing with things. Anal-retentiveness is one of them. Even though it’s just a natural part of life for guys.
Julia quietly opened the door. Soft moonlight lit the shack, exposing the numerous potential torture devices hanging from the walls. Including one completely out of place cheese grater. The trio shuddered in unison when they thought of the many potential horrors that could’ve been inflicted with one of the most innocent of kitchenware. Signaling the boys to stay put, she slowly advanced to the door, peaked out the narrow window, silently slipped out.
No car was in front of the metal shed, so she went to the side and peered around. Nothing there either. Cautiously she advanced to the back. Slowly, silently. All at once there was everything wrong. A black mass was flung at her face, and ropes were tied around her legs. She fell with a blunt thud, and assumed all was over. She could only hope that the kids would be alright. But opening her eyes, she saw that she was mistaken. There was no ill intent in the blinding blackness, not a single thought of binding her limbs together in order to make escape impossible. She was merely frightened by a bat. Snakes less than a foot long had slithered over her feet at the same moment as well. She was too high-strung at the moment. Not good for trying to escape a homicidal maniac. Luckily, there was no car to be found in a single speck of the visibility range.
Julia stepped back into the shack, and informed the boys of the situation. “How did you kids get here?” “We’re not kids,” the boys said in unison.
“I don’t care if you’re overgrown cricket devouring fungus. I just want to get out of here. Now please, bring me to the nearest sign of civilization!”
“Sorry.”
“Follow us, we’ll bring you home, Daddy can probably drive you into town tomorrow morning if you feel comfortable about it,” the younger sibling offered.
“Thanks. Now let’s get out of here before that creep gets back.”
“*”

“Come on, George, it’s seven in the morning, can’t you wait ‘til at least nine? I haven’t even had time to start dreaming yet!”
“No, this can’t wait. You know my fiancée, Julia Roberts?”
“Yeah, and…?”
“She’s missing.”

2
Jonathan drove as fast as he could bear, not daring to beat the speed limit. He had only broken the law once in his entire lifespan of thirty-two years and he planned to keep it that way. His parents had kept him from falling into darkness as a teen, and his friend in need would be absolutely horrified if he was arrested for a slight offense. Rolling along the James L Gillis Memorial Highway this early on a Saturday morning offered almost complete isolation from the traffic that normally murdered the innocent and heartwarming scenery. This early sign of lifelessness almost guaranteed a freed up road network in the inner city, but nevertheless, Jonathan worried. A sudden explosion of early-morning commuters would be just the nature of the first organized city in America.
“Stop it,” he ordered himself. “This is no time to worry. Oh crap, now I’m worrying about worrying. Everything is gonna be alright. Nothing’s wrong. She probably just went out to get some milk. No one likes dry cereal, right?”
Jonathan was fixed in his perturbed state of mind, and there was no hope of getting him out of it. Always had he been an enemy of change. Forever was he in an infinite deadlock with the villain of revision. Change was, in essence, evil incarnate. And changing Jonathan’s state of mind so quickly was something that could cause nervous breakdown. He had even rejected the idea of moving away from his abusive parents. They had constantly beaten him and told him such insults that would guarantee a trip to jail had they been exposed. But he was set in his ways then, too. Abuse both physical and mental was a part of life back then. He only just barely saw the light before it was too late. Though one prosthetic hand had been the cost of monotony.
George Ferris rushed to his friend’s car as it pulled into the driveway. The panicked man looked as if he had just seen the face of death, passed away, and come back to the living as a brain-chewing rotting form of terror. Only an exaggeration, of course.
“What do you know so far?” Jonathan asked, getting right down to business.
“Nothing. Only that she was there when I went to bed, and gone when I woke up.” George’s tone was pitiful. “Everything will turn out okay in the end. You’ll see.” Jonathan was known for saying the obvious. After all, if no one else, why not him?
“I sure hope so.”
Sophie barked as she always did upon seeing anyone but her two owners enter her realm. But she was not a bad dog, she was, in fact, quite respectable in terms of manners. Her only flaw was that she barked at the unfamiliar. Or rather, those who she did not currently hole up with. But she was acting strangely today. Perhaps because of her missing gal-pal. When the two entered the kitchen, she quickly and promptly proceeded to urinate on the linoleum, something she had never done since her second month of life. The beagle was definitely out of it.
The trepidatious owner obviously did not notice the extreme oddity that had just occurred, and advanced to clean up the puddle of micturation. “In exactly one week, we would be married. Today was our four year anniversary.” He almost choked on the last sentence. Memory can tear out the heart of someone with wounds entirely healed. To forget, you must forgive. But forgiving does not always take away the pain. It doesn’t block you from the terrible things that people have said. It only makes you at peace with yourself, and unless the other half of the conflict has also forgiven, all the work of vindication is let down the drain.
“How long have you two been living together?”
“For the past month. But we planned to keep separate rooms until the marriage.”
“Hey.”
“Yeah?”
“Stop acting as if it’s all over. We’ll find her, don’t worry.”
“Sorry.”
“No! Stop it! You have nothing to be sorry about! Stop saying sorry and get your head clear.”
“Alright.” And with this, said, the man composed himself, straightened his coat, and set to work coping with his problem. When the pre-made garlic loaf came out of the oven, everything seemed right again. It was cut into thick slices and slathered with butter. Each of the men took their fair share of crushed garlic. Heartburn was an issue not to be thought of at the moment. As they ingested the mess, they discussed the matters at hand. Suddenly and with absolutely no warning at all, the beagle reached onto the table and snatched up the last two pieces of the loaf. “Sophie! What on Earth has gotten into you?” asked the entirely perplexed man.
The dog merely scarfed down the remainders of her plunder, and looked up with a seemingly innocent gaze. “Goodness. I think that she might need to take a walk. Would you mind? I’ve got to find a picture of Julia before we go to the police.”
“Of course,” Jonathan grabbed the leash dangling off of the backdoor’s knob and clasped it to the dog’s collar.

“*”

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” George said as his friend left the house. He walked up the swirling flight of stairs to his room. Opening the door, he smelled something different. It wasn’t the smell of garlic and butter that should’ve graced the entire house; it was something sweeter. A flowery scent. Perhaps his bride-to-be had graced his room before she left, and sprayed some perfume to get rid of his man-stink. Whatever the case, it was not something to worry about as of now.
Quickly George grabbed the framed picture of Julia and shoved it in his pocket. He was worried that a prolonged gaze might bring back painful memories. As he was walking out of the room, he noticed his image in the full body mirror set to the side of his domain’s doorway. A scruffy man with a portly belly was what he saw. Staring into the reflection, he decided subconsciously to get in shape after this ordeal was over. It would help his self-esteem to be sure, and Julia would approve most definitely. George hurriedly combed his hair back and tidied his jacket once again. Turning back to his room, George took another whiff of the unknown scent, and turned to walk off again.
“Going somewhere…?”
“What the–?” “Surprise.”
A large man stood in front of the door, barring his way out. He wore ragged khakis and a trench coat complete with matching shoeless feet. But most memorable was his face. Looking at it was almost unbearable. There were multiple gashes healed up into knotted scars cross-hatched across the visage, and burns that had caused it to become a discolored leathery physiognomy. What had happened to this poor creature was too horrible to even try to imagine. And living had been an even greater curse.
The chapped and craggy lips moved and out from the dank cave that the opening had formed came words like that of a man with chronic bronchitis, no, worse, like a man who’s vocal cords had been all but ripped out. He was fascinating in every respect, but not like Jonathan, no he was different. Scary, dark, mean. Evil.
“I brought you a present. I do hope you enjoy it,” the man scraped on, ending with the laugh of a rabid wolf.
Looking down from his face was almost impossible, but once he did he was glad. A single rose, not yet opened up, protruded from his closed fist. George slowly and hesitantly put forth his hand, pinched his index finger and thumb around the stem, and took the flower. “Is this…? Did Julia…?” he stuttered. He could not find words to describe his joy. “Th– thank you.”
But thanks were not in order, nor was joy appropriate at the moment. Black suddenly gripped his sight, George let out a shout, and fell to the ground, still clutching the rose to his chest.

“*”

Just as Sophie finished her business, a shout came from the upper level of the house behind them. Jonathan, still working his way down to being calm, was instantly alerted to the dangers George was facing. He picked up the dog, hurried inside, dropped her on the couch and ran upstairs. A bearish man was in the hallway, walking slowly toward the wall. Upon further examination, Jonathan saw George slung over his shoulder. He called out to the hulking figure as it… walked into the wall. The entire structure seemed to ripple as the man set on foot in, then the other. There was no hesitation; obviously he knew what he was doing.
Somehow this man got into the house; probably the same way he left. Then he apparently frightened George and kidnapped him. This didn’t make sense. How did he acquire this power of walking through walls? What the hell did he want with George?
“This day is getting too crazy. I can’t deal with it. I just, I can’t!” Jonathan almost broke down there in the empty house. His best friend in the world had been stolen away in front of his very eyes, and his fiancée was probably taken in the same way.
The broken man slowly made his way down the stairs, step by miserable step. He then gathered up Sophie and her various care tools and loaded them in the car. Sophie obviously sensed his sorrow and kept to herself. The way home was long and monotonous, but that was good. Jonathan had sensory overload, and he needed to take a long nap.

“*”

Mr. Daniels looked over at the sleeping woman in his pickup’s passenger seat. She was bruised all over, especially on her right cheek and both forearms. The woman’s nose was broken in three places, but his wife had effectively stopped the bleeding. After they filed the police report, she’d be driven to the hospital, and her relatives would be contacted. It seemed that she was a very unlucky girl.
It was none of his business, but Archie still wondered what the hell might’ve happened to her. Once she had arrived at their house so early in the morning with their two young boys, Archie and his wife were instantly suspicious. Who was this woman, and why was she with their only children? But before they could even ask any questions, the woman breathed a word of thanks, and fainted. John and Paul told them only what was needed; they were obviously worried about what later punishment might come from sneaking out. Archie himself wondered what to do with them. After all, if they hadn’t disobeyed his rules, then that young woman might’ve died.
As he pulled onto the street housing the police station, Archie leaned over and shook the battered girl’s shoulder. Whether or not she was to fortune as north was to south had no bearing on the current matters. The time between the crime and a filed report could make all the difference in catching the sick bastard.
Startled, she sat straight up and almost punctured the leather seats with her fingers. She was evidently a light sleeper.
“Oh, it’s just you. I was, I thought for a second that I was back… there.”
“Don’t worry, you’re safe. I understand completely. People often get dreams mixed up with reality. Don’t worry.” Archie was adept at calming people’s minds. There seemed to be no one who wouldn’t feel even the most microscopic bit better after hearing his soothing voice and calming words. Back in his childhood, his family would’ve broken apart if it hadn’t been for his sensitivity to emotion. But there was a part of his sensitivity that he kept secret. No one knew, and no one ever would. “We’re here.”
“Alright. Thanks.” Closing the car doors behind them, they approached the fortress of modern justice. A man was just entering as they got to the doors. The sounds of commands being shouted through transceivers and police sirens flooded the building. This day was a busy day for the various miscreants that seemed to own the streets these days. Archie himself often lamented over the terrible things that often happened in plain sight. No one really seemed to give a damn about anyone but themselves.
Except these people. These officers of the law and other emergency personnel risked their life on a daily basis to save the lives of others. Sometimes before they even knew they were in danger. Always had Mr. Daniels looked up to these people as beacons of hope in a jet-black world. It was too bad he went into a psychiatric field instead of the emergency room that he had dreamt of as a teen. But no, it wasn’t too bad; people should get help before a state of emergency. Waiting until the last minute often cost people their lives.
“Name?”
Shaking off his dreams of the past, Archie was flung back into reality and the now. “Sorry, what?”
“Name, sir.”
“Oh right, Archibald Daniels.”
“What is your relation to Julia Roberts?”
“Who?”
“The woman you came in with and just filed a report?”
“Oh. Sorry, I never got her name,” he laughed hesitantly. Telling the woman all that he knew, he was soon back with Julia.
“Julia?”
A man had approached from the back, tall and blond, with a messy hairdo and a complexion like that of a ghost. He seemed to have some interest in the two.
“Yeah? Who’re you?”
“I’m Jonathan Finch, I’m a friend of George. We were afraid you had been kidnapped so we were going to file a report but….”
“But what?” “George disappeared earlier today. I’ll tell you about it later, in private.”
“Right, but first, let me get to the hospital, I have this feeling that I may need some medical attention.”

“*”

After they had sorted things out with Mr. Daniels, Jonathan drove Julia to the hospital. She was admitted to the ER and within an hour put in a room. Most of the wounds were surface deep, and the only thing that needed any special treatment was her nose. She received a blood IV and was prescribed some painkillers. Jonathan then proceeded to explain the situation to Julia, and silence ensued.
“What did this guy look like?” “Who?” “The man, the bear that ran off with George.”
“Oh, him. I didn’t really see. He had his back turned to me and I never even saw the side of his face.”
“Then how will we know who to look for? Or rather, how to describe him to a sketch artist.”
“We’re not going to a sketch artist. This man could obviously outrun the law. Heck, he could even get into the police database and change a whole lot of helpful info into a load of crap. We’ve got to do this on our own.”
“I don’t think we can, I mean, we’re only two people.”
“Exactly.”

3
Julia didn’t understand how this would work. Two people, one an eighth grade teacher and the other an artist, had no chance of even finding a crazy bastard like Bear. They didn’t even know where to start. And with ever passing second, George’s death would be closer.
Jonathan was sleeping in one of the two chairs for visitors. After Julia’s condition had finally stabilized, the nurse had asked him to leave. After thirty minutes of arguing, the two finally came to an agreement. Jonathan would leave or the nurse would call security. Luckily, Julia had chimed in after their quarrel and settled the dispute.
Suddenly the sleeping figure jolted up. Something had startled him, and it had got him good. Sweat poured down his face and soaked his clothes. Heavy breathing characterized his immense need for oxygen. His hands were clenched into twin death grips on an invisible enemy. Apparently someone who made a living off of dreaming still had nightmares.
“What’s wrong?”
“It was… nothing.”
“Come on, tell me.”
“No, don’t worry about it. I’m okay.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
All was quiet then. Jonathan lay back down to sleep, and Julia continued to stare at the ceiling and wonder about their situation. It was morning before she found a light and restless sleep.

“*”

Walking through the dark. The abyss of nothing. He was the only thing there. The load slung over his shoulder was just an empty casing of the man he had walked off with only hours ago. Quilt could take any amount of time to get from this to that, from here to there. He liked this place. This nothing. The void between everything. It seemed so wonderful to know that he was everything in this world. If he wanted, he could create a whole new Earth here, where he ruled. But before he created one world, first he had to rule the other.
A bright doorway swirling with a whirlpool of white and black opened up before him. Black never mixing with white, white never mixing with black. They coexisted in the realm of connection. Polar opposites created together, but never same. Always did the negative attract the positive, but never did they mingle. Chaos alongside order surged through the rivers of ice and fire, gold next to dung.
Stepping into the doorway, Quilt made his way into the world of reality. Everything in the previous realm of nothing existed, but only when it was made to. Unless there was something there, it never was, and never will be. The man he had walked entered with appeared as he left, and the soul of George Ferris entered the frame it had once been housed in.
Setting the man down, Quilt took the old rusted pair of shackles chained to the abandoned jail cell’s wall and clasped them to the wrists of his prisoner. He plucked the rose out of the clenched hand of the unconscious man and planted it firmly into the concrete floor. Bending reality in such small affect was of great ease to the empowered man.
Before hopping onto the only cot in the single person cell, he gazed at the remaining flowers that were quartered in a 2 inch reinforced glass box. Three more roses and one golden blossom lived on in their residence. Soon there would be none left and his victim would be found again.

“*”

“We’re ready to discharge her.”
“Alright.”
“Sir?”
“Yeah?”
“I think we should do some more blood tests before we let her go.”
“Why?”
“There was an unknown substance present during the preliminary tests. I thought that it might just be because of the abuse that she took, but I want to be sure.”
“Unknown, huh? You realize how dangerous it might’ve been to not inform anyone when you first found out about it?”
“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking, I guess.”
“Alright, go do your blood tests. I’m going home, it’s late.”
“Thanks, I’ll inform you if anything strange shows up.”
“Whatever.”

“*”

“Miss? Wake up. I’ve got to draw some blood.”
Julia opened her eyes and saw the gentle face of the nurse that had been aided her when she had been admitted to the hospital. “Hm?”
“I’ve got to take some blood for tests?”
“Alright.”
“Try to relax.”
“’Kay.”
The syringe filled with blood as the nurse’s practiced hand relaxed Julia’s arm. Barely any pain, and a cute cartoon fish bandage to cover up the puncture. The nurse left and Julia was alone with Jonathan again.
“I think we should leave.”
“Hm? Why?”
“I just have this feeling. Like if we stay, something bad will happen.”
“What will happen?”
“I dunno, something. Maybe the Bear-Man will come back, maybe the place will blow up. I just think we need to leave, and now.”
“I–” suddenly everything went gray. Jonathan, the walls, everything went gray. There was no color at all; in fact, there wasn’t even a black or a white. Only the various shades of gray existed, except for Julia. Julia herself was the greatest contrast in this current world of slate and smoke. Only Julia, not her clothes, and not the bed. Just Julia. She was the only color in the world.
Not only was she the only color, she seemed to be the only source of motion and sound. But the sound didn’t echo down the halls, it stayed in a very short distance from her. It seemed that even the very molecules of the air were frozen, and they seemed to be resisting even the slightest change. The sheets on her bed were stiff and hard to move out of the way, and moving was a hard chore. She tore off the various hospital paraphernalia attached to her and hopped out of bed.
Stepping into the halls, Julia was afraid. Everything and everyone seemed to be unaware of her. Not only unaware, in a different dimension. As if she had stolen the rights to the fourth dimension and withheld it from the entirety of Earth. The most dreadful part was that she had no knowledge of how this happened, or even if it was her own doing.
Suddenly a shockwave shifted through the building, rippling along every surface of inorganic makeup in the structure. A muffled thump was heard down the very room the she had rested in only moments ago.
“Hello, Miss.”
Realizing the source of the voice, Julia ran. She sprinted through the corridors and ran down the stairs. But she was getting exhausted fast. The air was proving to be much more resistant in this world of paralysis. Before she could get down her second flight of stairs and onto the third floor, she fell to the ground. Purely exhausted, she closed her eyes and prepared herself for the worst.
Steps. Echoing down the open doorway at the top of the stairwell. Julia’s stomach twisted itself into knots as she thought of the many things that Bear might do to her. She was scared, and had every right to be.

“*”

Oh how sweet the sound of her gasps of and exhausted breaths were. He wished that he hadn’t already planned to play things out. Then he would be able to play with her in the motionless universe he had sprung her into. But he did have a plan, and with it, he’d show this reality the power that he had. The absolutely inspiring account of His Royal Majesty would be taught in all schools in every country. Poverty would be eradicated as he sent out his armies to rid the world of the unworthy and the genetically unfit. His new world would be a grand one, and then he’d make a new one to rule over.
But for now, he was still in the preliminary stage. He had to work his wonders on this world as it was before he created anything else. And first he had to teach this girl how things were going to be. He saw the open door to the stairs going to the third floor, and stepped through. He would explain things to this maid of interest. Oh how he would enjoy this.
“Hello there girlie.”

“*”

“I bet you’re wondering what’s going on here, and why I haven’t killed you yet. You see, I’ve got a plan, and you’re a part of it.”
The gravely voice of the Bear-Man sickened her even more. And looking at his terrible face brought the brew of stomach acid, carrots, PB and J, and a cherry slushie up her throat and into her mouth. The chunks of a not yet digested dinner spewed onto the landing and filled the air with an entirely revolting smell. This was the end.
“Oh now that wasn’t very pleasant.” It seemed that now that he was in control again, the Bear-Man did not let out his inner rage. He went on, “You see, there’s not a single reason for you to vomit all over the place, and it’s not going to help you at all. If anything, it’ll only make this less fun. Now let me explain something.”
At this Julia groaned and almost emptied her stomach completely. This was not a good day.
“You are an example. Only a single line in my plan. Don’t feel special one bit, because that would be stupid. You were chosen from the lowest of the low, and you have no reason to feel in the least exceptional. You’re scum, and I’m making you less than that. Think of this as a game of Last One Standing. You run for a while as I make my preparations for your execution, and I laugh. Now here’s your head-start.”
The gray eroded into color and the Bear-Man sank into the floor. A shockwave identical to the one that marked his arrival traversed the hospital once again. His voice echoed into the stairwell, “I’ll come for you after I get the rest of them I already have one, and there’re three left.” His wicked laugh faded into oblivion.
Picking herself up, Julia made her way back up to her room. Jonathan was staring blankly at the bed when she walked in the room.
“Where’ve you b–”
“Let’s go.”

“*”

“So you just left her with that guy?”
“Yeah, they seemed to know each other.”
“Are you sure she’ll be safe?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“Positive?”
“Yes, honey, I’m positive.”
“Okay.” And with that, Archie’s wife retired to their room for the evening.
Archie himself went to the bathroom as he did every night before bed. He had to write the events of the day in his journal. Soon he would have eighteen volumes. One for each of his years since he left the teens. Inside each was his New Year’s resolutions, his goals, his feelings, and his daily life. Thirty minutes were dedicated to this record keeping of his, no more, no less, and he always remembered what happened vividly.
It was just as he finished up this daily writing of his that he noticed that the light switch was in the “ON” position. The light socket had been broken for years and as such the light switch was never turned on. The fact that it was in such position roused his suspicions. But it might be nothing. Perhaps Mallory had turned it on absent-mindedly. But she wasn’t like that. She always remembered the little things, those minute details that don’t seem to be of any importance, but just make life that much easier. She would not have turned the light switch on, and Archie certainly would’ve remembered flipping it if he had.
So who did it?
Archie was now in a state of major suspicion, and he needed to figure out what was going on. He grabbed the Colt Anaconda from behind the toilet and flipped out the cylinder. Three shots, it’d have to do.

“*”

“Doreen, come finish your dinner!”
“Just five more minutes, mommy!”
“Now, Dory.”
“Fiiine.”
The young girl, no more than five years old put down the coloring book and walked over to the table. Climbing up onto the chair, she grabbed her spoon and dipped it into the soup. Her mom was washing dishes as she always did after she had finished dinner. Dad had left once again, and probably wouldn’t be back for another two months. She missed her dad.
Dory sipped up the last bit of broth and wiped her face. She brought her dishes over to the sink and left her mom alone. Dory wanted to color. She was good at coloring. She always stayed inside the lines and made sure the colors were matching. Sometimes she even drew her own lines, but they were never as good as the coloring books’ lines. She wished she could be as good at drawing as the coloring book people.
But as of now, she was content. Even if Mommy and Daddy hated each other, if they saw how good she was at coloring, then it was okay. It’d be okay no matter what. Everything would always work out in the end.
“Hello little girl.”
Everything had turned gray. The crayons all looked the same. That wasn’t good. How would Dory be able to tell which color was which?
A man stepped in front of her bed. He was big. And his face was ugly.
“Can you bring the color back, Mister?”
“No, Missy.”
“Why not?”
“Because the color is life. And this house is lifeless. You can’t live in a lifeless house. It isn’t a home.”
“How is it lifeless? Me and Mommy live here.”
“Not really. Mommy doesn’t care anymore, and you are the only one who is capable of anything important here. So it’s time for you to go. Come on now.”
“Can I take my coloring book and my crayons?”
“No. Now come on.”
“Okay.”
“We’re going to walk into that door there. And then it will be very dark. Are you afraid of the dark?”
“No, mister.”
“Okay, let’s go.”
“Okay.”
Holding hands, the bearish man and the little girl walked into her bedroom door. A ripple crawled across the surfaces of the house and the color came back. The crayon that Dory had been using dropped to the floor.

4
This was not right. Nothing was melting away. It was giving to colors and shapes. He needed to get them out of there, fast.
The door opened up once again, and the two rushed towards it. The blackness was being washed away, and the doorway was almost consumed. Jumping towards the contracting portal, they were soon back in the deserted reformatory.

“*”

George was awakened by a sudden flash of light. The electricity of the prison ran through once more and the lights were reawakened. The horrid man walked into the cell once again. But holding his hand was a girl. She looked no older than five.
“Come now, you’ve got to get in there.”
“What about that man?”
“He’s not dangerous. Don’t worry about him.”
“Okay.”
The strange couple walked into the cell. The man reached through the glass box and plucked a second rose. He reached for the girl and placed it in the center of her chest just as he had planted the other in concrete. The just blooming bud stuck firmly out of her chest as if it had been growing there her entire life. Obviously the girl felt no pain or found anything strange about the plant protruding from her ribcage.
The man once again hopped onto the cot and started snoring. What he dreamt of, George was afraid to even imagine.

“*”

A throne. Towering high into the air, the golden jewel-encrusted seat rested high above the floor of the palace. The man seated upon it was the ruler of this perfect world. Here there was no poverty, there was no crime, and there was no pain greater than that of a stubbed toe or a paper cut. This was a world of peace.
But it had not been this way forever. For thousands of years had the Earth’s citizens fought and killed. But after this man, this wonderful ruler that had been accepted by all, everything was better. Wars were things of the past, and crime was a forgotten blemish in history. Long ago had people realized that the punishment for the slightest mistake was death. All uprisings were squashed, and any naysayers were silenced. It was a perfect world.
But alas, it was but a dream. Quilt slowly opened his eyes and turned his head to see his prisoners. They were not unwell. The girl seemed to have taken an interest in the old man, and it seemed that they had been talking for a long while. Of course, in comparison to the rest of the world, not time had passed at all. Silently, he willed the thin mattress to open up. Let him in. Sinking, he was swallowed up into the void.

“*”

Archie silently walked through the small house. Peering into the boys’ room, he saw them safely sleeping. The entire house seemed empty and asleep except for George. In the dark of the night, the colors seemed dull, even gray. But it was nothing to worry about. He did have his flashes of color blindness, he was getting older. Going back to the master bathroom, he placed the revolver back behind the toilet. Suspicion was subsiding into exhaustion, and George walked back to bed.
He stepped into the room and found a man lying on top of the covers, next to his wife. This man was of similar build to Archie, though perhaps more muscular. His face was horribly scarred.
“How are ya, Archie?”
“Who the hell are you and how did you get in my house?”
“Oh, you don’t remember me?”
“No.”
“That hurts, Archie. And here I was, wanting your help.”
“Who the hell are you? Answer me before I shoot you.”
“Oh that would be quite rash. And I doubt that you’d be able to shoot me in the world’s current state.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Oh you haven’t noticed yet?”
“Noticed what? What did you do?”
“The world around us is frozen. No one is living but us. You are quite slow, aren’t you?”
“Robby.”
“Bingo! I was beginning to wonder if you had completely forgotten your childhood.”
“Oh, I tried.”
“It’s happening Archie. It’s Beginning.”
“And I guess you want me to help you?”
“Obviously. I can bend the physical, and you the abstract. If our conquest is to be complete, I’ll need you.”
“I told you, I’m not going to help you. I won’t be a dictator. I care about people. You only care that everything is at peace. No matter the cost.”
“But don’t we strive for the same goal? Don’t we both want the human race to be happy?”
“No. You want them to bow down to you. Just because people are at peace does not mean they are happy.”
“There is a price to peace.”
“Oh how true that is. But what is it?”
“Some people have to pay a lot, some only a little.”
“What about you?”
“Nothing.”
Three shots. Three bullets. All hanging in midair two feet in front of the beast’s face. Archie had sat back down onto the toilet during the course of there conversation and reached behind the bowl. From there he quickly raised the gun and pulled the trigger three times. It hadn’t done much besides putting three bullets in the air, but it had at least caused the man to leave.
“Nice try Archie, but you didn’t really think you could hurt me, did you? I guess it can’t be helped. But remember,” his head had almost faded into the floor now, and his mouth moved still, “you can’t stop destiny.”
The dull color of the night returned, and the loud sound of the revolver shouted through the night, and the three bullets shattered the glass of the window. Mallory shot up in alarm and the boys ran into their room. Archie calmed them down and told them to go back to bed. He promised to tell them what happened in the morning. He didn’t intend to keep that promise; sudden business had arisen. He had to find that Julia girl again.

“*”

That Julia girl just happened to be plummeting off the side of a major highway. After she and Jonathan had left the hospital paying no mind to the many, many objections from doctors and security, had driven off in Jonathan’s Honda Accord. They had planned to drive to North Carolina and hop in on Jonathan’s brother. He supposedly had a wife and daughter and owned a trucking business, so hopefully it wouldn’t be a major interruption.
Pulling onto the highway, they seemed okay. But then that blue Suburban had pulled on, and then decided to blow up. Luckily, it was four lanes over, so the only consequence was the Accord falling twenty feet onto the top of an off the side fast-food restaurant. That and the surrounding cars being blown in various directions along with their drivers, many of which were separated from themselves.

{NOTE: OH WOW, MY FIRST NOTE TO MYSELF. WELL, I’M JUST SKIPPING DESCRIPTION HERE; IT’S GETTING QUITE BORING. SO NOW WE JUST SKIP TO THE UNBORING PART. THEY’RE ON THE ROOF.}

The airbags had deployed, and Julia and Jonathan were stunned beyond belief. As the cushions deflated, they tried to make sense of the thingy. The thing that had happened. With the explosion. Oh man, she was so out of it. What had happened? There was a loud noise, then Jonathan had swerved the car off the road. There was a light too. It was bright, and hot. Maybe it was an explosion. But why had it happened? Was it another trick of the Bear-Man? Maybe he had found them, but how?
“That was crazy.”
“Yeah.”
“What happened?”
“Well, something blew up.”
“What?”
“Some car four lanes over.”
“Hm.”
“Yeah.”
“Why’d you take us off the highway?”
“I figured that if something had exploded, then we’d be better off down here than flattened in the huge pileup that’d happen up there.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“That was smart.”
“Thanks.”
Jonathan suddenly jumped out of the car and dragged Julia out with him.
“What the heck are you doing?”
“We’ve got to go.”
“Why? Well, obviously, but why are you rushing? Shouldn’t we call for help?”
“No, if we get help, then they’ll take us to a hospital. Then we’ll be in the same position we were in a couple hours ago.”
“Right. Well, how the hell do we get off this roof?”
“Through that door there.”
“Of course.”
“Come on.”
They hurried over to the service door, opened it, and entered the dark stairway.

“*”

While crying in her room, Maria had found one source of light, one beacon of hope. The man that had materialized without her noticing offered her an escape from her abusive dad, her hateful peers, and her hopeless society. He said she’d be free from the horrors of life, the death that had clawed at her heart, the pain that had glided across her wrists, the ever closer cry of the lonely deceased calling to her. She was ready to believe anything, so she went with him. She held his hand and walked into the wall as he had instructed.
That was a mistake. The man had left her in a prison with a little girl and an old man chained to the wall. And beyond that, he had pushed a rose into her eye. There was no blood, there was no pain, but it was the worst feeling of all. She felt resentment and grief, depression and anger; all the negative emotions capable of a human flooded her mind and invaded her psyche. There was no escape from this misery that held her in a state of absolute pain. The rose was a parasite leaching at her happiness and joy.
Maria curled up in the darkest, farthest corner and cried.

“*”

“Another explosion.”
“Another one?”
“Yeah.”
“When will this guy give it a rest?”
“Who knows? Maybe he wants something, and he’ll keep doing this until he gets whatever it is he wants.”
“Or maybe he’s just doing this for the sake of death.”
“Maybe.”
“People suck.”
“Shit happens.”
“Too true.”
“So sad.”
“Hey…”
“Yeah?”
“What about the places they exploded?”
“What about them?”
“Could they form some sort of a pattern?”
“They might.”
“Should we get someone on it?”
“Sure.”
“Alright, I’ll call Dan.”
“’Kay.”

“*”

George woke up once again to find the girl waving her finger through the air. But she wasn’t waving it, waving was random, no, she was drawing something. Something that couldn’t be seen and was apparently so interesting that nothing could shake her from the artistry in the air.
But there was a sound. It was completely unfamiliar and unknown. Not the monotonous sandpaper-on-rocks sound of the Roseman’s snoring, no it was different. This sound was sad, it was uneven, and it was pitiful in every way imaginable. It sounded like a young girl. She sounded no older than eighteen, and she was possibly only fourteen. He couldn’t see her in the main section of the room, and she was certainly not on the cot, so where could the sobs be coming from?
George turned his heads to both corners, and saw the curled up form of a teenage girl. Her body occasionally convulsed in time with her crying. She was sad. More than sad, pitiful, she seemed to be misery in its purest form. What had happened to her must’ve been worse than a thousand deaths.
George closed his eyes and let his head hang down. What this man was doing was cruel. It was worse than cruel; it was so unlike human nature that it bordered the realm of bestiality. This world was insane.

“*”

One of the employees had agreed to take Julia and Jonathan home with her, and granted them the luxury of a two bed guestroom. For over an hour they talked about what went on that day, and the complete ridiculousness of modern society. Finally they moved on to talking about the Bear-Man, and how they would deal with him.
“Where could he be?”
“I have no idea.”
“Me neither.”
“How could we find him?”
“We could try a search engine.”
“And look for what? ‘Bear runs off with future husband’?”
“I don’t know, something like that.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes, and I don’t see you coming up with a plan.”
“Right, sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“We should probably get some rest. We’ll want to be as awake as possible if tomorrow’s going to be like today was.”
“Right. Goodnight, Miss Roberts.”
“Goodnight, Mister Finch.”
The orange light of the lamp blinked off. Darkness brought silence, and the silence faded into sleep.

5
“Hey you guys wake up!”
The shouts of the woman woke the two up, and the bright light flooding through the windows flashed in their eyes. Looking over at the clock, Jonathan realized that they had slept way too late. Already it was eleven, and the sun was nearing its high point.
“Okay you guys, I’m leaving for work, if ya need me, my number is on the front door. Otherwise you can just call a cab or something. Bye!”
Jonathan spoke when the generous host closed the door, “Are you going to take a shower?”
“Obviously. Just because we’re in a state of emergency does not mean that we are to go about the world like ragamuffins.”
“Alright. The shower should be through that door there. I’ll probably use the girl’s main shower.”
“How do you know where the showers are?”
“Well, last night I woke up. I had an… urge, and I found the bathroom in there. The other shower is just common sense.”
“Right. Well, I’ll try to make this as fast as possible, but you should respect the time that I take naturally as a woman.”
“Of course.”
“We’ll try to be out of here by noon. But we’ll need some sort of plan on how to get around. Try thinking of some while you’re cleaning yourself.”
“Sure thing.”
“And while on the subject of cleaning, I think that it’s time we came clean. We should tell each other what we know. About the Bear-Man, George, and us. Maybe there was something special about one of us three that attracted him to us.”
“Alright, alright. Just, please, let me get in the shower already. My body doesn’t wait for cleanliness for long!”
“Right. Well, remember, think.”
“Think, gotcha.”
The two walked there separate ways into the house and turned on their separate showers. The drone of the cascading water was the only thing to be heard for thirty minutes, and the world seemed at peace. No Bear-Man, no kidnapping, no cars blowing up in the middle of the highway. All was fine with the world, at least as long as they weren’t involved in it.

“*”

Julia let the water run over her body as she listened to the monotony of the water pounding against the tile of the stall-like shower. She didn’t want to think about what had been happening. In fact, she dreaded the very notion of remembering the events of the last two days. Was it two days? She couldn’t even remember how long it had been. This was crazy. How the heck did she get wound up in this?
“Let’s see, I went to that party I saw on TV, I got kidnapped and an hours later, and it’s Day Two. Day Two I get to the guy’s house, go to the police, and wind up in the hospital. I then slept from morning until Day Three. Then Jonathan and I leave, and we end up here. So this is Day Four. What is today? Sunday? Monday? Yeah, Monday. Alright, so it’s some Monday in November. Wow. This is crazy.
“So how can we get a ride? Maybe a taxi. But that’d cost a lot, and we’d have to tell the guy to go places and it’d be just all a mess. So how would we get a car? I’m pretty sure neither of us has a credit card or any money with us, so that rules out renting or flat-out buying. What could we do, what could we do?”
Racking her head, Julia’s mind crept over to the side of criminal activity. They could steal a car. She had learned how to hotwire in one of her… previous lives, so it wouldn’t be absurd. But they’d be stealing a car. Julia’s conscience would haunt her the rest of her life, she had committed to a docile life long ago. But then how would they escape from the Bear-Man, and how would they find George?
A sharp rapping on the door brought back her sense of urgency, and she proceeded to wash her hair. “I’ll be out in a minute! I just have to wash my hair!”
“Alright! I’ll be waiting!”

“*”

Archie had been awake for two hours now, and he was busy trying to recall how to phase through the physical using his power over the metaphysical. He could turn his body and mind into but a notion, a concept of what was, and reform in his old shape in any size he thought of. But he could not tear rifts through space. That was his brother’s job, and time was a great thing that could not be kept in place forever. It desired to move on, to expand, and to grow outside of its previous boundaries. Time was a concept not to be trifled with. What a fool Robby had been to learn of the Freezing Technique.
If he had just listened when he was being trained, they wouldn’t be in this mess. But that stupid brother of his just couldn’t keep his prying little fingers off of the Banni Changements. And now he wanted Archie’s help to take over the world. Or show “the petty humans what true power is.” That stupid man was going to get himself killed, and whether or not Archie himself would do it, he’d certainly help.
Tracking down the trace of Julia’s mind was much easier than it would’ve been if she were just a normal girl under normal stress. But because of her over-active mind, she was leaving quite a bright spoor. Now he just needed to remember how to get to the woman.
He closed his eyes and nearly gave up. But suddenly his entire memory of his power of alteration came back. Cascading into his mind, he saw the simplicity of it all. All he had to do was want it. He could will himself to be wherever he wanted and he was. If he wanted to turn his body into an entirely ethereal mist, then it was done. If he had stayed to finish his training, then his might’ve learned the power of Rejection. But alas, he had seen the corruption in the realm of the deities, and as such had turned away from the teachings of the so-called “masters.”
But that was the past, and now he needed to help stop his brother from killing the masses. He thought of the house the girl was located in. He thought of the surroundings, he thought of the interior. Then he thought of being there, and he was.

“*”

“Who the hell are you?”
“Jonathan?”
“Great. Now there’s another guy appearing out of nowhere. But this one knows my name. This is just a terrible world.”
“Jonathan.”
“Yeah?! What do you want? Have you come here to collect me and leave Julia by herself? Answer me!”
“No, I haven’t come to take you away. I came to h–”
“Archie?” Julia’s voice rang out in surprise as she walked down the stairs. It was no wonder; this man had just appeared out of nowhere.
“Julia! Listen, you know that guy, the one that my kids rescued you from?”
“Yeah…”
“I’ve come to help you with your problem with him.”
“Great! Do you have a car? Or maybe some other way to get around fast…?”
“Yeah. I’ll explain to you two the whole situation.”
The three sat down and talked about all that had previously happened. Julia spoke of everything that had gone on since Friday. She spoke of the party, she spoke of the strange man, Robert, appearing out of nowhere and kidnapping her. She told of everything that he had told her, and about his strange power of freezing time. She spared no detail and left no subtlety unsaid.
Next Jonathan told about everything he knew, which in comparison to Julia was barely anything, and compared to Archie was absolutely nothing. In fact, the only thing he could really speak about with confidence was the day that Robert had walked off with George.
Finally, Archie spoke. Telling grand tales of the deities, his family, and his pre-determined “destiny.” He told spun wild tales of the “future” of Earth, under the rule of Archie and Robert. Archie didn’t believe in this prophecy crap. He hated that they said that even though he was supposedly in line for the Throne, that he couldn’t change his own future. Jonathan and Julia listened intently as he finally told them of his brother. He told them of the hatred that had pooled in him since the day he was born. He told them about the devil-spawn that he was, and of his misinterpreted view of justice and peace. All was apparently not well in the world of “upper-beings.”

“*”

Quilt was enjoying this. He looked at his victims in the last place they would ever see. Or rather, second last. The last place they’d see would be a large stadium in which the world would gather for there execution.
He smiled. The man was so pitiful. The crying heap was laughable at best, and the little girl that so often showed resonating signs of joy was sickening. Soon he would add the last jewel to the collection, and then the alchemic value of the woman would be at its greatest. Defying the laws of nature was his specialty, and if doing what was proved to be impossible hundreds of years ago would prove it to these fools, he’d do it.
No, he’d go beyond the physical; he would expand his power to everything. Nothing would stand before him, nothing could. With this plan of his, he could go beyond what was meant for him, and in the end, he would rule over everything. Everything.

“*”

The man was standing outside of the bars. He was smiling. The ugly face was smiling. Dory hoped he was happy. Some smiles are not happy. They are mean, they are angry. Other smiles are weird: they look happy, but they’re really sad. Dory hoped the man was happy.
The girl was still crying. The big girl was curled up though, so she looked small. She looked small and sad. Some cries are good and happy. This one was not. Dory knew that this girl was sad. Inside she was very sad. Dory didn’t know why she was sad. She was not sad like Mommy; she was too young. But she was still sad. Dory wondered why the girl was sad. But she didn’t ask. Asking is bad, it gets you in trouble and big people yell at you. Dory didn’t ask questions unless they really needed to be asked. And even then, only when Dory felt very brave.
Then there was that man. He was attached to the wall. But he wasn’t really attached, the chains were, and then his hands were attached to the chains with those big metal bracelets. The man looked sad too. Sad almost like Mommy. Maybe he was sad like Mommy; maybe he had a mommy-person that had left him. But not all old people were mommies and daddies. Some were just people, like “That Man” and “That Lady.” Those people looked lonely sometimes. Other times they looked angry. But sometimes mommies and daddies looked angry too. Grown-ups were weird.
Dory decided to go over to the big girl and hug her. Sometimes hugs were could at making people feel better. But when Dory put her arms around the girl, she turned her head. Instead of her right eye was a flower, a pretty red flower like the one in Dory’s chest. But that flower was different, it was mean. Dory reached for the flower and put her hand around the blossom. She started pulling.

“*”

What was this little girl doing? She had come over and embrace Maria, then upon seeing the rose in her right eye socket, had started pulling. Maria had expected to feel pain like what was supposed to be felt when the flower had originally been planted in her head, but there was none. The rose started to come out slowly and smoothly. With every inch, no, every centimeter, the sorrow that had seemed to be tearing her apart subsided more and more. When at last she had taken the flower out, Maria returned the little girl’s hug.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
For many long and peaceful moments they clung to each other. They had only spoken two words to each other, and already Maria found an intimate connection to this blessed girl. Even though a lot of things were still screwed up, at least one thing had been fixed, and like they say, “To get something going, first you gotta start.” Maybe this one thing that went right could help Maria figure out a way to look at life in a whole new perspective. No, not maybe, it already had. This little girl was a blessing to the Earth, and if not the entire Earth, then at least one person. And in the end, isn’t that all that really mattered?
“What’s your name?”
“Doreen Isabelle Finch.”
“Thank you Doreen Isabelle Finch. Now is there something shorter I can call you?”
“Mm hm!” she nodded with enthusiasm. “Dory!”
“Okay Dory. Even though we probably live in entirely different states, we’re gonna be friends, got it?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“None of this ‘Ma’am’ stuff. Call me Maria, or Mary, or whatever else you want.”
“Okay Maria.”
“Okay?”
“Okay.”

“*”

What the hell was this? He envisions a perfect world with a perfect society and two of his prisoners experience a Hallmark moment? How the heck did the teen stop crying anyway?
Quilt walked through the bars and into the cell. Looking at the floor, he saw the rose that the girl had previously had planted in her eye. If she had torn it out on her own, it’d be covered with blood, so who had done it? The little girl with the wavy finger thing? Impossible. But just in case…. Quilt gathered up the girl and planted her firmly in the concrete. Her shoes were swallowed up enough so that there would be no way of her taking off the shoes. Then he took the rose and shoved it through the teen’s eye. Not into, through. He didn’t engage his powers until the eye had been thoroughly punctured, straight through the cornea right to the optic nerve. He wanted to put this girl in agony, but not kill her.
Blood and eye fluid poured down her cheek as if she were crying tears of blood. The immense pleasure Quilt got out of this wonderful, though private, display of his power could not be measured by human scales. Quilt himself thought that there could be no better way of getting the job done. Perfect craftsmanship, and her screams of torment only added to the enjoyable experience.

“*”

“You know what I just realized?”
“What?”
“Yours and George’s dog is at my house alone right now.”
“Seriously? Without anyone taking care of her?”
“Yep.”
“Well call someone!”
“Alright, I’ll try my neighbor Ector.”
“Okay, just make sure he’s good with dogs.”
“He is, after all he owns two of his own.”
“Okay.”

“*”

“Mr. Carpenter? There’s a Jonathan Finch on line one. Says it’s urgent.”
“Alright, patch him through.”
“Ector?”
“Hey Jonathan, how’re ya?”
“Been better. Listen, I got a dog, and I had to go out for something, and it seems I’ll be taking a day or two away. You have a key right?”
“Sure I’ll take care of your dog! Just tell me its name and I’ll get some special food and all that.”
“Alright, good. I don’t actually have any stuff for her, just an old frog-toy that she could play with. Her name’s Sophie. Take care of her.”
“Sure thing Jonnie!”
“Seeya Ector.”
“Alright, bye.”

“*”

That stupid, stupid, stupid Carpenter! He never got through with his assignments on time. And every time he said “I’ll get it done fast next time, Mr. Taylor!” But he never did. Simon loved the man, and he delivered great work, but he just never got through with his work on time. He’d have to fire him if this kept up.
But that’d have to wait. Right now there was some “important person” here to see him.
“Yes, yes, come in!”
“Simon Taylor?”
“Yeah?”
“Time to go.”
“What are you talking about? I don’t have any appointments today, so unless you’re taking me to some fancy place where they serve gold with their food, then you can just walk back out that door.”
“You’re in no position to talk down to me. Now come on.”
“No! I will not ‘come on!’ I will stay right here and call security, thank you very much!”
All of a sudden, the man was right next to him, and he plunged something into his ear. Next thing he knew, Mr. Taylor was in a prison cell with another man and two little girls.

6
Archie had somehow conjured up a car. Or rather, he found one. Then he let himself in, and soon after, Jonathan had hotwired it. Julia’s plan for staying legally clean went down the drain, but after hearing from Archie what his brother, this Robert fellow, was up to, she figured that she might be reprieved after this ordeal was over. But this was not over, not by a long shot.
Archie had tried to find Julia’s fiancée, but it was in vain. He had never himself met the man, so it was near impossible. Even with the traces of his mental energy on Jonathan and Julia, it was still a hard to manage thing. In fact, the greatest concentration of “George-mind” was back at his house, and even that was weak. If George was still alive, he was not on Earth. And even that was possible, according to Archie. Apparently the nature of Robert’s ability to be where he wanted to be was not fully known. He could think of a place and be there, like Archie. Or he could open up a short passageway from “here “ to “there.”
All this stuff about power was weird. Being able to shift the very nature of reality just didn’t fly well with Julia. Of course, if she had been blessed with such power, she might think otherwise. She could trust herself, but trusting strangers was a different story. All that stemmed from her troubled childhood. But thinking of the past was for later. Later when she could talk to someone who would listen. Maybe George. He would listen after all this was over. After he had been found again.

“*”

Jonathan stared out the passenger seat window. They had decided to go back to Julia’s house to check out the little trace of George. If there was nothing, fine. At least Archie could become more familiar with his spoor. But if he was there, then they’d be even better, and everything would be good again. Of course, they’d probably learn of Robert’s plans more in-depth, and Archie would find him and stop him. But Jonathan and Julia would be done.
Jonathan still wanted to find his brother and see how things were going, but he didn’t need to do that anytime soon. Things of that nature could wait. And of course, getting sleep could too.
As the car rolled along the road, Jonathan saw a little girl. Not only a little girl, there was a man with him. The man was tall, and e wore a business suit. He was speaking to the girl, in fact, it seemed like he was reprimanding her. But it was hazy, as if seen through frosted glass. And all in one moment, they disappeared. Jonathan blinked and craned his neck to see the place that the scene had taken place just a few moments ago. Nothing.
He turned to Julia in the back seat, she seemed to be involved in her own little world. Then he turned to Archie, who was concentrating intently on the road. His hands gripped the wheel with intensity and his shoulders seemed tense. It seemed only moments ago that he was relaxed on the back of his seat. Had he possibly seen the two people arguing on the side of the road?
“Hey?”
“Yeah?”
“Did you see that?”
“See what?”
“The two people back there?”
“When?”
“About nine or ten minutes ago.”
“Shit!”

“*”

Archie spun the car around and let the car roll onto the shoulder. The car accelerated and the cars on their side were but a blur. Soon they came to the place that Jonathan had seen the strange back-and-forth occur. Archie jammed the breaks and the car skidded and slid a few more yards. Archie hurried out of the door and Jonathan followed.
“Don’t leave me!” Julia protested from the car.
“Come on then!”
The three walked over to the spot and examined it. Or at least, the two men did. Julia had absolutely no idea what was going on, and thusly spoke up.
“What the hell are we looking for?”
Jonathan replied cluelessly, “I have absolutely no idea.” Then he gathered his thoughts, realized he looked like a complete fool and composed himself. “Actually, I’m looking for maybe a footprint or something. Maybe even a freshly spilled drink,” he shrugged.
“But why?”
“I thought I saw someone here.”
“Who?”
“Two people, a man and a girl. The girl seemed to have something sticking out of her chest, but that might’ve been something she was holding and it just looked like it. I don’t know, it was a bit hazy. The man seemed to be yelling at her for something.”
“And you’re sure you saw this?”
“Pretty sure.”
“So you told Archie to spin a round and drive like hell back here to see if something was really here?”
“They were here,” Archie verbalized. “I know it.”
“How do you know?” both Julia and Jonathan said in harmony.
“I felt it. Around the time Jonathan said he had seen the people, I had felt an enormous discharge of my brother’s energy. Apparently, he’s gathered enough power have it be radiating from his body. And judging by the fact that what just happened just happened, I can safely assume that he’s staying in one place right now. I don’t know where or why, but if we encounter more of these oddities, I might be able to track him down.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, should we stay here or just drive on hoping that we’ll find more?”
“I don’t know. You decide.”
“Alright then, we drive on. But not to my house, I think we should visit Jonathan’s brother.”
“Why?”
“I just have a feeling.”

“*”

George woke up once again. He was still in the prison cell, and the terrible man was still there. The crying girl was still there, and the drawing girl was still there. And there was someone else. Someone tall and in a business suit. Another item for the collection. But this time as George surveyed the room, he saw blood on the floor. It was old and stained the concrete, but was there nonetheless.
George looked at his inmates and inspected them well. The tall man was on the cot that the Rose-Man had so often slept on, and he was staring at the ceiling with an angry expression on his face. He appeared to be a new addition, and it did not look like he was here in time for the brawl that it seemed had taken place here. The little girl had been here the entire time as well, and so had the young woman. The little one who was as always tracing imaginary details and designs in the air had no blood on her, and it seemed she had no injuries on her either. That would leave either him or the teen, and it was unlikely he had suffered any injuries, walked to the middle of the room, and then crawled back and chain himself back to the wall. And of course, he didn’t have any big gashes on his body. Upon further investigation, the blood stained seemed to form a trail to the girl’s corner. She was the source of the blood, and whatever might’ve happened, must’ve hurt.
“Hey, little girl,” George said as he turned to the child.
“Are you talking to me, Mister?”
“Yeah. Do you know what happened here?”
“Yes!” The girl explained all that had happened. She told of her sympathy for the crying girl, and how she had helped her. Then she recalled their conversation with excellent precision. Finally, she explained how the man had come over and hurt the crying girl. A rose through the eye. That must’ve been extremely painful.
“Little girl, you have an excellent memory. Have you always been able to remember things so well?”
“Yeah. I remember my first birthday, and my second, and my third, and my fourth, and my fifth. My sixth birthday will be here in…” at this she stopped, counted on her fingers, and began again, “My birthday will come in forty-seven days!”
“I hope you have a good one. Hey, is there something I can call you besides ‘little girl?’”
“Uh-huh!” she said, nodding enthusiastically. “Dory!”
“And what’s Dory short for?”
“Doreen Isabelle Finch.”
George’s happy expression melted away. Finch? Was she related to Jonathan? Or was she Jonathan’s daughter? No, Jonathan didn’t have a daughter. So maybe this girl was entirely unrelated. It was possible. Finch was a quite common name, right?
Nonetheless, George decided to ask, “Is your daddy’s name Jonathan? Jonathan Finch?”
“Umm… I don’t think so,” she said, trying to recall if her mom had ever called her father by name. “No, no it isn’t. My daddy is Richard Finch.
“Does he have any brothers? Do you know?”
“Um, I don’t know, he might.”
George sighed and committed himself to small talk. The girl was exhausted by the looks of it, and seemed infinitely refreshed by the change of familiarity in the room. She was quite a talker when engaged.
Eventually, they came to the subject of Dory’s past. The girl’s life was certainly not conventional, and George could not help but feel sorry for her. But he couldn’t do anything, and she seemed alright thus far.

“*”

Quilt was happy. He had finally gathered all the needed pieces, and was now letting them accentuate their powers. Everything was going according to plan, and he would soon be on the throne, the throne of the world. Just a bit longer and he could start the act. Soon, soon it would Begin, and soon he would reign. Archie or no Archie, peace would run free and all the harmful things in the world would stop dead in their tracks. Including those horrible so-called “positive” emotions.
Everything was good, everything was good. Soon everything would be perfect, with a perfect leader.

“*”

This was so stupid. First he had been angry. Very angry. Angry at Carpenter. Then he had been angry about the stupid guy with the ear-thingy. Then the guy with the ear-thingy had knocked him out and kidnapped him. What a day. And now there was some weird girl who wanted to connect with all the other people here. Where was here anyway? For the first time, Simon looked around the place instead of just sitting in the small bed. There were three concrete walls and a barred wall. The ceiling was riddled with fluorescent lights, many of which were broken. There was a red stain on the floor, was it blood? There was that crying girl, and that chained up guy. Then the little weird girl who wanted to connect with all the other prisoners.
The girl had tried talking with Simon earlier, but he had been overcome with rage toward the current situation, and in turn decided to blow up at the girl. She had done nothing wrong, and it seemed unlikely that she ever would. But all the same, she didn’t seem to care. She seemed a forgive and forget girl, and looked to be quite friendly. She was talking with the chained-up guy, she had been for a while now. But soon they ran out of a subject, and the man turned back to his solitude, and the girl to her drawing in the air.

“*”

Drag the finger across the air, let the colorful currents create wonderful pictures and then finally fade away. Then a new creation would be brought into existence to replace the old on. It was perpetually fun and infinitely entertaining.
Suddenly, Dory’s stomach grumbled. She was hungry. Looking around, she could see nothing that might subside the anger of an unfed tummy. So, with all available logic, went to the man that had come last. She pulled on his sleeve. The man replied to her question with a gruff no. This wasn’t good, without food, how could she live? And if she didn’t live, how could she color?
She saw a room across the hall that seemed to have someone in it. Was it the guy who had brought them here? The nice man who had taken her from the lifeless house? She walked to the barred wall and yelled. “Mister! Mister person guy! Can you here me?”
The man got up and walked toward her. It was the man, the nice man.
“Yeah, what do you want?”
“I’m hungry.”
“Hm. I forgot about that. But you’re right, I’ll be back soon with some food.” And with that, he sunk into the ground and was gone. A few seconds later, he was back with box of pre-made peanut butter sandwiches and a pack of juice boxes. He reached through the bars and put them on the ground. They looked delicious on the boxes, so Dory tore through the wrapping and dug in. She barely finished a sandwich and a juice box, but she was small, and it was normal.

“*”

Fifty miles and four discharges later, Archie had locked on to his brother’s energy, and was seeing flares all around the world. The flares were numerous, but there were also residual energies in a few places. They had decided to visit the places of lesser energy first to assess the situation further. Archie had also ventured into “teleporting” people other than himself. It was dangerous, and his companions had more than once appeared a few doors away. But other than some quick talking, that caused no major distraction.
The first place they had gone was most alarmingly Jonathan’s brother’s house. Robert had apparently paid a short visit there a couple days ago. Upon venturing inside, as they had appeared in front of the house in order to not frighten anyone, they were overcome with a sudden sense of sadness. As if someone had been here and left with any happy feelings possible. Staying in a group they moved throughout the house until they came to the kitchen.
There they saw a woman hanging from the ceiling. She was a horrid thing to look at in her current state, and her faded blond hair was strewn in different directions. Her face was twisted and contorted, a haggard thing that sickened the soul and curdled the blood. Below her rested a note that had seemed to have suffered a bit of water damage.
“You cruel, cruel world. You took my first husband and all my children then. And you’ve kept my second husband at arm’s length while I stared longingly towards him trying just to reach his face. And my daughter. My daughter that I never really cared about. I didn’t see her as the blessing it was until you took her too. I’m terrible, and the world is terrible, and we can’t live together, so one of us had to go. And to the reader of this letter, I must confess, I am a bit embarrassed about this, and I would hate it if my husband found out about what I have done. Please, do not tell him, it would break his heart,” Jonathan read. Sighing, he dropped the note to the floor and gazed back up at the hanging mess.
“So this is the wonderful house and wonderful wife my brother told me about. I never once suspected that something terrible might’ve been happening here.”
Archie spoke up, “The note said that her daughter was taken? Does that mean that she disappeared?”
“I don’t know, maybe.”
“Could it be possible that Robert had taken her?”
“What?”
“It would fit, I mean, he was here, and judging by the amount of residual energy, it would appear that he was here no more than two days ago. The corpse seems no older than two days as well, so wouldn’t it make sense?”
“Robert comes, takes my niece, and in part causes my sister-in-law’s death. Wonderful. Now I have even more of a reason to find the filthy bastard.”
“Guess so.”
“Yeah.”
“Sorry.”
“For what?”
“I dunno, it’s just, you know, it’s something you say when they’re feeling bad. I don’t really think it has any meaning other than they want to help you through it. Or something.”
“Right, well. We should go.”
“Okay then, come on then.”
“Wait!” Julia chimed in. The two men stopped and turned to look at her. “Shouldn’t we call the police?”
Archie smacked himself on the head and remarked, “I never even thought of that. I guess we should, right?”
“I guess so, we can’t just leave her hanging here, now can we?” Jonathan added.
“Right so. Who’s gonna do it?”
The Jonathan and Archie looked at each other then at Julia. The decision had been made without even a word.

“*”

“He found something!”
“Who found what?”
“Dan! He saw a pattern!”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously! Do you think I’d joke about this?”
“I guess not. Now would you please tell me what you found?”
“Dan found it.”
“Whatever. Just tell me.”
“Alright, so, look at this map, it shows all the explosion sites. They’re marked in red.”
“I don’t see anything.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes I’m serious! Just show me the dang pattern!”
“Look, these three form a triangle. And these four make a square in the triangle. And then the six on the outskirts make a circle.”
“Wow. The guy knows geometry. So he has a fifth grade education, what’s your point?”
“It’s more than shapes, it’s a pattern. The circle with the triangle inside it with the square inside it is the Roctus. There’s only one part missing, and that’s where he’ll strike next.”
“And you’re sure about this?”
“Yes, I’m very sure.”
“Alright, well. I guess we should get someone to do something to stop major traffic from getting on that highway.”
“I know you’re being sarcastic, but you’re right. I’m going to go tell Ms. Archer.”
“Alright. And by the by, you might want to bring Dan.”
“Why?”
“You sucked at explaining that.”

“*”

“Hey, Dory.”
“Yes, Mister George?”
“How did you take the rose out of Maria’s eye?”
“I just pulled.”
“You just pulled?”
“Yep, and it came out slow and smooth,” she said, demonstrating with her hands.
“Hm.”
“Whatcha thinkin’ Mister George?”
“I was just wondering…”
“Wondering what?”
“How is it that you could undo what the Rose-Man did?”
“Who’s the Rose-Man?”
“The guy who was obsessively putting roses in all you people.”
“Oh, him.”
“Yeah. So how could you do it?”
“I just could.”
“You didn’t try real hard or think really hard?”
“Nope. It just looked like it needed to come out and it did.”
“Hm.”
“Hm,” she mimicked.
“What about the other roses, do they look like they need to come out?”
“Well, Maria’s still does, but I’m afraid the Rose-Man will hurt her again if I take it out.”
“What about the other guy’s and yours?”
“The other guy’s name is Mr. Taylor.”
“How do you know?”
“He has a nametag.”
“I see.”
“And mine looks nice. It doesn’t look mean like you people’s roses.”
“How so?”
“It just doesn’t! Why are you asking so many questions? It hurts my head to think a lot.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“Mr. Taylor yelled at me. I don’t want to try to take out his flower because he might get angry. And the flower right there looks so lonely. I don’t think it will be happy to be away from people. It might get lonelier.”
“Hm.”
“Hm.”

“*”

“Doctor?”
“Yeah?”
“That patient, the one that ran away…?”
“What about her?”
“Well, I didn’t think it mattered then, but, somehow I think it matters now.”
“What matters?”
“There was something in her blood, the tests confirmed it.”
“And?”
“It’s weird. Totally unknown, but it seems to be a good thing.”
“How is an unknown substance floating through the blood ever a good thing?”
“Well, I created some more using her blood, and it appears to grow with her blood and die with her blood. I injected some of it into a few lab rats and the results were spectacular.”
“How?”
“Well, one rat had cancer, and the cancer went away completely and it seemed to be greatly enhanced in its performance, and another had been infected with an immune system killing virus, and that was completely annihilated, and it was also performing better. Finally, when injected into a completely healthy rat, it created total immunity to almost all diseases.”
“Are you saying that what was in that girl’s blood was pretty much the cure to everything?”
“Umm, I guess so.”
“Well, we should get to researching. Show the board of directors. All that.”
“Right.”
“Come on, this is important.”
“Okay.”
The doctor and nurse quickly walked off.

“*”

“Okay so, explain this to me. You seem to just not give a shit about anyone but yourself. Well, actually, that’s wrong, you care about other people, but not how most normal people would.”
“Really? How so?”
“You don’t care when people are saying horrible things to each other, or even physically harming one another, but you finally intervene when people are trying to help people feel better. And by intervene, I don’t mean you try to help people feel better; I mean you tell all the other people to leave the person alone who’s feeling bad. That’s absolutely retarded.”
“Now, now, sticks and stones–”
“May break your bones but words will ever hurt you. Blah blah blah. That’s crap. You know very well that words do hurt. Not physically, but emotionally and mentally, words can kill a man.”
“Well, we know that, but they don’t. Those idiots that walk around like nothing else exists besides themselves. The world is dead to them, and you know it.”
“So what if I know it? That doesn’t mean I accept it, it means the exact opposite. I try to stop this apathy, the lack of emotion that kills millions of people every year. I hate this lack of love the world has come to, and that’s why I’m doing what I’m doing.”
“You’re going to take over the world to stop the horrors of it?”
“I’m not an evil dictator, I love people. But these people need a hard knock on the head, and I, along with you, were the ones destined to give it to them.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Believing isn’t everything, you gotta act.”
“I am acting. My boycotting what the others said I was ‘destined’ to do is me acting.”
“You yourself said that you wanted to change the world.”
“And I will. One day, I’ll change the world in a way you’ll never see coming.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Did you perceive it as such?”
“Archibald, if you’re going to threaten me, then I can’t just sit by idly and let you kill me.”
“It was a joke, Robby.”
“I told you not to call me Robby.”
“Sorry Robert.”
“Thank you.”
Archibald sighed and walked back to the Kingdom. Robert stayed and looked through to Earth. He was going to change it, and everyone would thank him. It would be a glorious day.

“*”

The Rose-Man sat up in the bed. From this room, he could be seen without detail, but his motions could be made out. He seemed to shake his head and then hop out of the cot. Grabbing his coat from the floor, he put it on and walked to the cell housing them. He sat in front of the cell.
Suddenly he had a large bowl of popcorn and a two-liter bottle of cola. They seemed to have just appeared in front of Simon’s eyes, but the strangeness of their appearance did not affect him nearly as much as the fact that he had them at all. They meant that they had become a show, a drama to be watched in real-time in real-life. It was a cruel psychological game that angered Simon greatly. But anger was nothing new. It had consumed him in whole and festered in his body since the moment he had seen that man. It was beyond anger now, way past rage, it was an indescribable, horrible feeling that ate at his soul and spat it back out at his feet. His bloodshot eyes only added to the effect.

“*”

Maria was still being consumed by the sorrow that gripped her heart and poured out through her eye. She wished that she had the power to take out the cursed rose and rip it to shreds before the man could come over and ruin her other eye, The pain that flowed through her nerves often came and went as the tides did, but she didn’t know whether that was good or bad. But at least the ebbing flow of the pain subsided sometimes, allowing her to quiet her sobs to an almost inaudible whimper. It allowed her to think about what had happened, what was happening, and what should’ve happened. Whatever she thought about though, there was almost an absence of anything positive.
She thought of her mother. That beautiful brunette had married a wonderful man with a prospering publishing business. But then Dad died, and brought them into financial ruin. She could remember it very vaguely, but the home invasion would never leave he memory. Two men had entered her Laguna Beach home and demanded all their expensive belongings. Dad had guided them through the house, giving them what was asked for. But then they had tried to rape Mom, and Dad got physical.
He pulled a pistol from the nearby cupboard and shot the two men. One he killed and the other he had fatally wounded. The surviving man shot Dad in the head as he walked off to call 911. Dad dropped to the ground and the gunman gasped his last breath.

7
Dory had been planning. In fact, she had been thinking vigorously about what to do. She had finally realized that the Rose-Man had lied to her, and that her house had not been lifeless. She had gotten angry, but didn’t show. She would keep up the charade of being an innocent little girl in order to get out and go back home. She would take the roses out of all the people, including herself, and find some way to beat the man. She didn’t like him, and she didn’t like what he was doing to the other people.
Maria had stopped crying, and that was good. But for the time being, she still had that rose in her eye, and that was bad. Dory picked up the two boxes of food and brought them over to her. She took out a juice and a sandwich and offered them to Maria. When Maria rejected, Dory left the food on the ground beside her and went back to the other corner. She would take a nap and then enact her plan.

“*”

They had left the house with heavy hearts. They had realized that Robert really had the potential to kill, even if it was indirectly. Sighing, they allowed themselves to arrive in a suburban home in Illinois. Knocking on the door, they feared that behind the wooden boundary would be another grizzly scene such as what had been witnessed back in North Carolina. No one answered, and they feared the worst.
However, the door was locked this time, and as it was daylight, they couldn’t just break in through the front. Stealthily, they moved to the back of the house. A starved dog with a foaming mouth greeted them there, and nearly gave away their position. Archie silenced the animal with a mental suggestion. Unsaid and not implied, the surprising extent of Archie’s power was being realized by the two spectators. If he had chosen to be on the side of Robert, they would’ve feared for their lives.
Trying the back door, they let themselves in, and what greeted them was a rank smell that sickened even the cockroaches. Dead rats rotted in pile in a corner of the room. At one point in time, this room might’ve been called a living room, or a family room. But now it was a dead room. A room where things died and were stuffed in a corner. A room where methamphetamines were created in another. And in the window grew a tall marijuana plant. The owner of this house had been entirely screwed up even before Robert had visited him.
Sprinting through the dead room, they found themselves in a hallway stained with brown and red. Blood caked the walls and hardened the carpet, which in another life might’ve been cream colored, or even white. But the horrible smell of long spilled blood now choked their throats and made them run even faster. This was a horrible place that was home to a horrible person. At the end of the walkway of death were two doors. Deciding to stay together the entire way, they entered the one to their right.
Upon entering this threshold, they encountered a nest of flies. But flies didn’t live in nests, and they soon found the shape of a dismembered human body among the remains. It was unclear whether or not Robert had caused this mess, but they had to get out fast.
Running from the house of death, they each threw up in turn. Vomit ran down the hillside and pooled in a disgusting puddle at the bottom of the small incline. This was a terrible day, and they left it to go back to some measure of safety. Archie quickly left a note on one of the neighbor’s door. It read “Call 911, tragedy at 7782.” They soon appeared back at Jonathan’s house to sleep away the madness.

“*”

Jonathan flipped on the television and changed to the local news station. He often drifted off to sleep while hearing about what was going on in his little area. Nothing of interest caught his ear, and he fell into his dream realm. The sound faded away, as did the bright LCD.
Thirty minutes later, Archie and Julia walked out of their assigned rooms and into Jonathan’s. Lying on the floor, they soon fell into the same haze as Jonathan.
Julia’s dreams reminded her of her troublesome past, and of her horrible mother. Even Dad had been better than the terrible person that gave birth to her. She had given birth to what was, in her eyes, a horrible mistake. Every day she had told Julia the story of her conception, and the terrible nine months in which she had tried to kill the baby via alcohol. But never had she succeeded, and Julia was born a perfectly normal person with normal motor skills. Her birth was a miracle, not a mistake.
But in the world of nightmares, that was not clear at all. The looming figure of the old woman stood over a young Julia. The familiar house melted into darkness, and her mom became a dark silhouette in the blackness. Two sickly green eyes opened up and a malicious smile curled up the beasts face. Raising her arm, Julia tried to run. She wanted desperately to do nothing other than turn away and run away, far away from the horror that was Mommy. But Julia was frozen in place, and her ragged little dress fluttered faintly in the cold wind. Then the arm came down with terrifying force into the ground beside her. A seismic wave crawled across the ground and through Julia up in the air toward her mother. The head of the monster turned towards the falling girl and the mouth opened up into a cavernous opening. A tongue dragged itself across craggy, red lips, leaving a trail of wet green slime behind. Julia entered the mouth and everything went dark.
The sleeping woman’s eyes flew open. She shifted toward the television that had been left on as they slept. She got up to turn it off, but stopped when she suddenly heard her name.
“Julia Roberts was the patient at Billard Graham’s Memorial Hospital just two days ago who incited this massive lab study. It turns out that she has what has been unnamed thus far, but shall be referred to as the ‘Ultimate’ gene. This gene causes her bone marrow to produce a strange chemical that, as far as we have been told, creates immunity to nearly all diseases, and cures almost all others. Scientists are attempting to reproduce the chemical and determine its make-up in order to cure the world. As the chemical is more widely produced, all other drugs will become obsolete, and illness will be a thing of the past. Be on the lookout for later developments, this is Chester Tenson reporting live from outside the Billard Graham’s Memorial Hospital. Back to you, Tom.”
Julia was frozen in place. She had no knowledge that she was special in such a way. But now that she knew she was so special, she was terrified. What if they needed to conduct studies on her? She was not into the idea of being a lab rat, and the implication that the thing flowing throughout her blood would be highly sought after, she felt hunted. But then again, she could help “cure the world,” and that would be grand. Julia turned to wake the two men and tell them of what had just been learned.

“*”

George turned to the silent man on the cot. So far, he was the only one who had not said a thing, and George wanted to know why.
“Hey, you. Person on the bed. Can I talk to you for a minute?”
The man turned his head just barely toward George and looked him over. He sat up and replied, “Sure, but make it quick.”
“I don’t see why it has to be quick, we aren’t going anywhere soon by the looks of it.”
“And yet I still want you to keep it short. I don’t like long conversations, especially in small places like this. And I’m prone to angry outbursts, so there’s your warning.”
“Alright then. I just wanted to know, why do you think you were brought here? What might’ve made you attractive to this guy?”
“I have no idea.”
“Think, think really hard, what might’ve made you an object of attention?”
“I said I don’t know.”
“Well then, tell me every little aspect of your life. What makes you, you.”
“Okay then, you want to know who I am? My name is Simon Taylor and I run the entire Aspire Corporation. I bought it when I was twenty and it was still just a small business by the I bought it when I was twenty and it was still just a small business by the name of Ector’s Hardware. I brought it out of the dark ages and into the world of new, sleek design. Eventually, it got bigger and bigger, and I got richer and richer. I have a wife and kids and we live in Beverly Hills. I came to Savannah to see how the headquarters were holding along. I got word from one of the best employees their that a form that a major project he was working on would be late, then the guy came into my office. He hit me in the head, and then I was here. Happy now?”
George processed the information slowly, trying to find some way that what he had told him connected to the man. “Well, you’ve told me a lot of good stuff that happened to you, but what about your faults? Maybe there was something that you did wrong that might’ve caused the guy to be interested in you?”
“Oh so you want my faults? Well, when I was ten, I kicked my brother in the knee so hard that his leg bent entirely the wrong way and he almost died. When I was seventeen, I went to a party, got drunk, and woke up naked in the lawn next to some girl that I had never met before. When I was about twenty-five, I was smoking so much that I got lung cancer. They took out one of my lungs and I couldn’t run for the rest of my life without getting the least bit tired. And just three years ago, I had an affair and got a girl pregnant. Now I have to pay welfare every month and my relationship with my wife has never been the same. Mentally, I have a below average IQ, and I am entirely too quick to anger. Everyone says I’m a stupid hothead that doesn’t know when to quit and the media bashes me every other day. These are my faults, my quirks, and my wrongdoings. I ain’t proud of them, but they made me what I am today.”
“And what are you today?”
“A hotheaded forty-three year old bastard.”
At this the two men laughed, and it was probably the only joyous noise that had been heard in this prison for more than twenty years. George was still at a loss for what might’ve brought this man here, but at least there was a new friend to get through these hardships together.

“*”

Jonathan woke from his troubled dreams and was greeted by a rainy day. The gloom of the grey sky reached through the windows and choked the joy out of the house. Darkness gripped the sky as thick clouds blocked out the sun. Today was a very different day in contrast to yesterday. In fact, when they had fallen asleep the sky had still been clear. But near the coast, weather changed quickly and trusting the weatherman meant a fifty percent chance of having your plans shattered before your eyes. Very often when he was a boy he had planned to spend a day at the beach away from everyone else, and he had always hoped that as the TV said, it would be sunny. But rarely did it stay that way for long, and he had never been able to build the sand castle of epic proportions as he had wanted. But that wasn’t a concern now. Having dreams killed was a part of growing up. And as old dreams were euthanized, new dreams were born from their remains.
Jonathan looked out the window for a long ten minutes before he turned to wake up his companions. But as they woke up, a strange thing happened. They heard a loud and piercing scream and a bright orange light fly past the window. Jonathan and the others hurried to the window and opened it up. He stuck out his head and looked to the side that the light had run to. The weirdest sight of his life greeted him.
There was a man on fire running through the streets screaming. The rain did not seem to oppress the flames at all, in fact, there wasn’t even any steam coming from the water that drenched the man. This oddity that had run by the window screaming was something absolutely terrifying, though perhaps if it had been in a cartoon, it might’ve been a bit humorous.
Suddenly the fire was gone, but the man didn’t seem to notice and kept on running and screaming. It was five minutes until he finally realized that there was nothing wrong anymore. He stopped, looked himself over, then slowly walked back in the direction he came from with an entirely perplexed look on his face.
Jonathan pulled his rain-soaked head back into the house. They looked at each other in amazement and silently resolved not to give the crazy event that had happened no more thought than was needed. Jonathan withdrew to his bathroom to shower, and Julia and Archie to theirs. Things could be discussed over breakfast, but now they needed time to accept what had happened.

“*”

Quilt was getting worried. It was completely unlike him to worry, and yet he still felt that overwhelming feeling of nervousness and anxiety. His scarred face contorted into a frown that showed visibly that the man was not well. Something wasn’t right. No matter how much power he gained, it always seemed like there was just a little more before the final stage. Things were happening beyond his control, and that upset him like nothing else before. Patience was a terrible thing to him that he wished had been thrown out along with the dodos, the brontosauruses, the mammoths, and the buffalo.
But patience remained in this world, and no matter how hard it was to accept that time was completely invulnerable to most tampering of reality, it was, and it puttered on slowly. It was upsetting, to say the least, that time was not on his side, but still more upsetting was that Quilt could not help but be as impatient as the lowly humans that he was supposed to rule. He sat back down on his luxurious bed that was so out of place in the dark prison and resolved to sleep off the impatience. The blemish on his perfection would be wiped off for good.
And after this blemish was removed, he would have all the time in the world to reach his limit of power. And just that limit was enough to take the keystone and set it in place. Then there would be no limit and the world would be his to perfect.

8
The man had gone back to bed, and it was time to act. Dory quickly stood up and walked over to Mr. George. Signaling him to stay quiet, she grabbed the rose and started pulling. The flower slowly rose up from its concrete prison and Dory kept pulling slowly and the rose finally came free. Putting it in her pocket, she moved on to Maria. She motioned for Maria to roll over on her back. Then she took the rose as she had done before, but this time, the end was covered in dried blood. Disgusted, Dory daintily placed it alongside the first rose and moved to the bed. The man raised his hand as if to smack her, but she persisted. When the man saw that she wasn’t going anywhere, he laid back down and let loose and exasperated sigh. Dory reached towards the ear that housed the rose and tugged on the bud. The rose came out quicker than any of the others and as such allowed for more time to take out her own rose.
Dory sat herself down in the middle of the room and laid the roses beside her. She started pulling, but unlike the others, this one remained. She pulled as hard as she could, and yet it didn’t show any sign of coming out. Dory looked helplessly towards Maria and then George. George saw her problem immediately but was unable to help her. He let himself give a loving look towards the girl as if to show her that she could continue on and not give up. Maria soon came over to help, but the rose still remained rooted in her chest. The businessman eventually saw their plight and watched motionless as they continued to try to take out the rose.
Suddenly Maria’s voice cried out, “Hey, guy in the suit! Why don’t you stop gawking and get over here and help!”
The man shook himself out of his reserve and came over to help in the fight. Slowly but suddenly, the rose began to relent. The stem kept coming as slowly as a snail, but it did come. Every second let loose another millimeter, and the seconds kept coming. Eventually half of the rose was out, and still they pressed on. Puling soundly and surely, the rose finally came out. The three looked at each other with happy smiles. Then they gathered up all the roses and proceeded to stomp on them.
The flowers were bruised and tattered and the stems were broken and torn. The three ground them into the floor and persisted with their destruction. The mess of red and green was then piled under the bed. Every last piece was hidden from sight and the chances of anyone knowing what had happened so suddenly and quietly was slim to none. The Rose-Man would be surprised, and would no longer have reason to keep them. They would go back home and everything would be okay again.
But that was only happy speculation.

“*”

Jonathan exited the bathroom and returned to his room. After drying himself with a towel, he went to his dresser and quickly put on some clothes. He made sure that He made sure that everything he put on was comfortable and would allow him to run if needed. The feeling that he would need to run could not be escaped, but he felt as if preparing would at least help.
He exited the room to find Archie and Julia sitting in front of the door discussing what had happened after they had woken up. Archie seemed to be explaining the event as if he knew exactly what had happened. And maybe he did; he was an odd fellow.

“*”

Archie had explained to the two that the man on fire was Robert’s part in every way. Robert’s power was increasing so much that not only were the visual discharges happening, there were also discharges of actual physical, and sometimes psychic, energy. They had to find him fast.
But first they had to have breakfast. No matter what state the world was in, it was still a priority to make sure you had your nutrition. Jonathan quickly made three peanut butter sandwiches and served them with a glass of milk. Nutrition was important, but speed was too.
However, just as Julia raised the sandwich to her mouth, she stopped. Sniffing the sandwich, she dropped it with a horrified expression.
“What’s wrong?” Jonathan asked.
“Peanut butter.”
“Is there something wrong with peanut butter?”
“Well, there’s nothing wrong with it. It’s just that–”
“Well if there’s nothing wrong with it, why won’t you eat it?”
“I’m trying to tell you that. You see, I have Arachibutyrophobia. It’s the fear of–“
“Peanut butter sticking to the roof of your mouth,” Archie interrupted. “I’ve heard of it. Some of my patients had it. They still have it, of course, but they’ve gotten past the worst of it.”
“So Julia is afraid of peanut butter?”
“Sticking to the roof of my mouth.”
“Well, I’m sorry, I didn’t know. If you want, I can make you a ham sandwich or something.”
“I don’t like ham. It makes me throw up.”
“Turkey?”
“Too dry.”
“Not this pre-sliced stuff. It’s pretty good.”
“Yes it is.”
“No, it really isn’t.”
“I’ve had I before, it’s too dry.”
“Alright fine. Would you like a chicken sandwich?”
“I’m allergic to chicken.”
“No way.”
“Yes way.”
“I thought chicken was hypoallergenic.”
“It’s not.”
“Well then, what can you eat?”
“I could go for some beef.”
“Roast beef okay?”
“Same difference.”
“Alright then, one roast beef sandwich coming up.”
“No mayo.”
“No mayo.”
“And no tomatoes, they taste disgusting.”
“No tomatoes, got it.”
“And also–”
“Nope, not gonna do it. You get over here and make it yourself. I’m not going to be your little servant boy. Everything you might need is in the fridge. Now I will go and eat my wonderful peanut butter sandwich. Be ready to go soon.”
“Alright,” she said, slapping barbecue sauce on the bread along with two slices of provolone. She put some lettuce on top and ended the show with a small helping of Dijon mustard. She brought the concoction to the table and began enjoying. Jonathan then realized how petty the peanut butter sandwiches looked next to the kingly creation she had made. It smelled wonderful and looked wonderful. Being in the same room as the eighth wonder of the world would not allow for a healthy, enjoyable peanut butter sandwich, so he exited to the porch to finish his dung-next-to-gold sandwich.

“*”

Quilt woke up feeling refreshed and reinvigorated. The feeling of impatience was gone, and he felt happy once again. Walking vigorously, almost skipping, to the cell that he kept his prisoners in. When he got there, he saw that the three unchained prisoners had been working at the chains of the fourth. Chuckling, he shook his head. They would never be able to break those bonds.
But then he noticed it. All the roses were gone. There was not one left and there was no evidence of them being destroyed. Had it happened? Was the accentuation complete? If that was true, then it was time. He would have to collect the final jewel of humanity. She was the keystone, and it was time to put her in place.

–-—-–

_ And there ya go. It is unfinished as of yet, and I don’t know how to continue. I’m sure you’re able to see how strained and stretched the writing gets the farther into it you get. I’m sorry for any eye-bleeding or smashed computer monitors that might’ve resulted from reading this text._