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theguidetocryptids · 3 years ago

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Just to preface this post, this was a comm for a member of the Sky:COTL server that I’m in (SORA.) These are not my characters! They belong to Ahmyo in the SORA Discord.

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It was my mistake.

I had strayed a little bit too far off my usual route for the winged lights in the area and the krill had spotted me out in the open. I knew that it would hurt, but being able to take solace that it was, at least, my own mistake, would help with the sting. I still scrambled to try and make it to cover, but the creature of darkness roared before I was safe—charged—

But not at me.

Someone had swept in at the last second, like it was a scene straight out of one of the spirit’s fairy tales. The krill had completely forgotten about me, given an easier target. I barely even had time to stand before it was charging down at the other poor soul, but they were more aware of their surroundings. I could see them dive down behind a rock at the last second, the krill catching only dark water and mud.

I had to stay put for a minute just to wait for the creature of dark to finally leave, but when it did, I was immediately at the side of my “savior.” I said the only thing that came to mind:

“That was incredibly stupid.”

————————————————

“I don’t exactly feel like that was the stupidest thing ever, y’know? Like, okay. Maybe it’s a little up there, but definitely not even in my top ten. Besides! You’re safe. I didn’t lose any light. Everybody’s happy!”

I was quickly finding out that Eckto, as he’d introduced himself, had a much brighter view of the world than me. Where I saw someone trying to save a stranger from the inconvenience of being krilled, he saw a heroic act of someone trying to be helpful. I wasn’t exactly inclined to agree, considering that he was only a few inches away from hurting himself.

“Well! Whatever. Where are we going next?” He asked, stepping in front of my path.

The wind howled around the wasteland, whistling gently through the masses of pipes that lead towards the only structure for miles around—the Elder’s temple. Where else in the world we could be heading towards, I wasn’t sure. “Nowhere.”

Stepping around him, it didn’t seem that Eckto was going to be so easily deterred. He tailed me for a few minutes, even in the oppressive silence of the Golden Wasteland. I thought that eventually he would get bored and wander off, but . . . that clearly wasn’t happening.

“I’m heading towards the vault.” I offered, slowing down at the top of a dune. My finger pointed towards the tower that lay just beyond the temple, and slowly drifted towards the angry red glow on the horizon. “And I’ll be heading to Eden after that.”

“Oh.” He sounded nearly deflated, as if he’d expected something a bit more relaxing and involving a few less krill and boulders, but it would apparently take more than even that to put a dent in his mood. “Okay, yeah! I need to revisit the Heart anyway. Not like anything bad could really come of swinging by.”

A pause.

“Well, you’ll die.”

“I’ll get over it, I’m sure.” He said, nodding as if this was an uncertainty that he was completely confident in nonetheless. He seemed rather proud of himself as he said, “I’ve gotten quite good at dealing with the whole dodging flying rocks, if I do say so myself. And it’s not like they hurt that bad, honestly.”

“You’re ridiculous.” I said, shaking my head.

“I like to call it, ‘happily oblivious’.”

We continued the trek towards the vault at that point, but the silence didn’t last nearly as long that time. “My name’s Xernae. I don’t believe I’d told you.”

“You hadn’t,” Eckto assured me, “but it wouldn’t have mattered if you never did. I’m quite good at nicknames.”

“And what would mine be?”

I think that was the only time he’d ever seemed stumped by something I’d asked. He started to say something, but closed his mouth with a small “hmm.” “Gimme a few minutes,” he promised. “I’ll think of something! Just . . . not right now, y’know. I need time for the process and all that.”

I was smiling under the mask, but I’d never admit that.

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“The archives are a lot shinier than I remember.”

I was busy lighting the central platform, having already taken care of the few lanterns strewn about the ground level, but his comment was enough to distract me. “A lot . . . shinier?” I echoed. “How?”

“Well, I appreciate all the spirit mantas and everything, but it’s really been . . . quite a while since I’ve been here. I thought it was more dusty and bookish and everything, but this is more, just . . . nice. Does it get much different from this?”

“You’re going to enjoy the rest of this.” I didn’t exactly give Eckto much time to respond before the central lantern was lit, the platform coming to life with a hum. He seemed to remember something of this part, as he didn’t seem particularly impressed, but the moment that stars started to wink into existence around us was a different story.

“Oh. Wow. I . . . can’t believe I forgot about these,” he murmured, reaching out to cup one of the floating lights. “I must’ve been excited about finally getting close to Eden, before I realized what it was like. That or I really wanted to get away from the krill.”

“I find it hard to believe you were ever scared of them.” He laughed a bit, but there was clearly more to the story than a one-off joke. Fidgeting a bit, I knew we had a bit more time before the elevator would ascend to the second level—it really was painfully slow whenever first reactivated—and there was certainly nothing better to do. “What was your first experience with them like?”

Eckto was quiet for long enough that I figured he wasn’t going to respond, but eventually he seemed to find the words. “I know a lot of moths usually get adopted by a veteran, or at least have another moth that they latch onto as they figure stuff out, but that . . . didn’t really happen for me. Not for any reason in particular, I think, just bad timing and luck as far as everyone I met went. For the Golden Wastes in particular, I had to go it alone.” There wasn’t a sad tone to his voice, but nevertheless, I still got the feeling that it wasn’t exactly a pleasant feeling. Comforting others wasn’t something I dealt with regularly, but I felt for him as he continued.

“You can imagine what happened whenever I encountered the krill for the first time. I’d seen the crabs before, but the krill were . . . much more vicious. I think I must’ve lost twenty winged light before I finally made it past the last gate, and that doesn’t include what I lost to my light going out in the dark water.”

“I’m sorry.” I said. I really was.

“Meh. It wasn’t as traumatizing as I’m making it out to be, I feel, but it certainly sucked for a few days after that. I actually usually spend most of my time in the Wastes because of that, in case there’s any moths that need help.” Eckto stood up and stretched, having returned the small star to the pool that accrued around the elevator as we rose.

“I’m not a moth.”

“No, but you did need help. That was good enough for me.”

I supposed that was good enough for me, too.

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Eden was an eternal storm.

The crystals sucked the light out of your body, the rocks rained down endlessly, the winds whipped around you like a hurricane. Not to mention the krill and the crabs, which only made an uninviting place even more inhospitable.

I took the lead, but Eckto followed not too far behind, tailing me whenever I bolted for the next safe spot. He didn’t seem entirely comfortable with Eden, but he certainly managed the hazards well enough.

Better than me, for certain. For as confident as I was in timing the period between rockfalls, I failed to notice when a stray shard broke away from the main flow, the stone smashing into my face like nature’s worst gift.

My light was snuffed out unceremoniously, but Eckto was there with a flame before I’d even picked myself up off the ground. “I think I might call you Stoneface. It fits your whole strong, silent type deal.”

“I talk a good bit. And I prefer Xernae.”

“You really don’t.” He insisted, helping me to my feet even as the boulders rushed around us. “But Xernae it is.”

I expected a bit more trouble from the patrolling krill, but luck seemed to be on our side after that. Thunder and lightning boomed and flashed in the clouds above us, but before long we were sheltered in the cave right before the point of no return. The Heart was simply too disruptive for us to return home, past that particular bend in the cave. “Not much further now,” I said, as we collected the last few children of light.

“Not at all,” he agreed, “but I’m rather excited to see all the elders again whenever we’re in orbit. It’s been a while since I’ve talked with them.”

Somehow, it seemed perfectly normal that Eckto was on a talking basis with all of the elders. I knew them, sure, but I’d never gone out of my way to bother them. He probably didn’t consider it “bothering,” if I had to guess.

The rest was something of a blur. It was rocks, and darkness, and the division of our own light, but beyond that my memory fails me. Probably due to the sheer amount of rocks that you’re pelted with towards the end, but I never really try to remember them anyway. All that I care about and recall is the Heart itself, and giving the little bit of light to it that I can.

This time, I did end up remembering something else. Towards the end, I hadn’t navigated the storm as well as I should have. I was low on winged light, and in no position to reach the Heart as it was. I was rather resigned to my fate—I would just have to do better next time—but Eckto wasn’t content with that.

The memory’s fuzzy, as they usually are, but I know that he helped me reach the Heart, despite the fact he could have gone on without me.

That was the last thing to see, before the world went black.

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Home, again.

It was always more serene whenever I had just been reborn. Everything seemed brighter, fresher. The waves seemed gentler, the birds more lively, the candles a bit warmer.

Normally, I was alone. Being serious hardly nets you many friends, as it is, but this time was different.

As soon as Eckto opened his eyes, I sighed heavily.

“I think you were right about the krill thing not being the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.” I said, him looking over at me with interest. I smiled, openly this time, tilting the mask up. “Because that absolutely takes the cake.”

“Oh, come on! I was just helping!”

“We’re basically immortal. There’s always next time.”

We bickered back and forth like that for a while, but honestly, I appreciated the gesture. I hope he knew that.

Well, he wouldn’t know unless I told him, and I already knew there would be plenty of time to prepare myself for his no-doubt over the top response. So, I just enjoyed the moment.

Peacefully, and with a friend.

#creative writing #my writing #fiction #short story #fandom #writers on tumblr #sky cotl #sky cotl lore #sky fanfic #skyfic #first person pov

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theguidetocryptids · 3 years ago

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The year is 2184, average earth temperature has doubled, only a few million people remain on earth. A green-movement managed to travel back to 2022. What are they doing?

The sky rumbled ominously, and with a sound similar to that of a balloon popping, but in reverse, two figures simply jumped into existence on a hillside some twenty odd miles from the nearest city. They were even past the suburbs in this particular direction. They both stood still for a few moments, but eventually the taller one spoke. This one was lean, almost spindly, and although taller than their companion, still fairly short. And they said,

“I didn’t . . . expect it to be this beautiful.”

It was a dismal day, by every account but theirs. The air quality rating was lower than it had been in years, the sky was overcast, even the greenery was limp and dull.

And it was the most beautiful day they had ever seen. The air wasn’t scorching—they could probably do without the gear they had brought—and the air wasn’t straight-up poison. They could actually see the sun, the skyscrapers of a city in the distance, a real-life forest on the edge of the horizon. It was more nature than they’d ever been exposed to.

“But shouldn’t we be inside the city right now?”

The first figure turned to their short(er) companion, stripping off their face-mask after a second. It was specially fitted with a tank of breathable air, with filters fit for even corrosive air if the tanks happened to run out. And they were completely irrelevant in light of the fact that this wasn’t the wasteland that they had just escape from.

The small one typed away at something resemble a tablet, and shrugged gently. “Records say that we’re in the same geographic location as when we left. Must be before the city expand out this far. I figured it would have been worse . . .”

They were both mildly unsettled at the fact that neither they or their organization had thought to account for this, but at the same time, they weren’t very surprised. It was one thing to read about how not everything had always been corporatized and reduced to a toxic, industrialized hellscape, and another thing to factor in a time before the second Industrial Age hit the ground running in your calculations about where time travel would spot you out, when all you had ever known was smog and eco-suits and sandstorms.

“Then again,” said the shorter one, “they wouldn’t have hit the point of no return yet. We specifically aimed for a couple decades before that. Which would mean they’d have to be significantly less advanced than what we’re used to.”

“Yeah. Alright. ‘Significantly less advanced’ sounds pretty good. Means we should be able to prove ourselves easier, right? Walk into the city, find the right people to talk to, get on the news. Show them a few gizmos to convince them.” Nodding gently, the taller one almost started to walk down the hill. They were held back by their companion.

“I think,” they said, looking up at a helicopter beating its way directly towards them. “That it’s going to be a bit harder than that.”

[If anyone even reads this, I’d like to ask you to continue this with your own addition! I don’t have enough time to write a full story, but this is a pretty neat thing that Tumblr’s trying. Maybe we can make it a bit cooler if we pull together.]

#writing prompt #show and tell time #satt-prompt #satt-writing-prompt #satt-2184 #show and tell #satt #continue it yourself

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theguidetocryptids · 3 years ago

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I was unsure if I wanted to share this story, but I think it’s worth it. Anyone who wants to become an exterminator should know the sort of trouble that you might get yourself into. The last thing I want is someone being enamored with the thought of bagging man-eating cryptids and managing to get themselves seriously hurt, or worse. This is not a safe sort of job.

A few pieces of advice before we continue, in case you really do plan on becoming an exterminator—though, these are more field tips than anything.

Diesel is better than gas for setting things on fire, if you’re worried about the flames surging up too fast or reaching up to you.

Fire can spread between joined structures with extreme ease. Please make sure that the area around your firesite is clear before lighting the flame, and that you know how to contact the relevant authorities in case something goes amiss.

With explosions, even the shockwave—the air that gets shoved out of the way by the violent combustion of whatever fuel you chose—can be deadly, nevermind shrapnel and the accompanying heat and fire.

Do not, under any circumstances, try to replicate anything that I’m about to tell you. The Bureau managed to cover it for me, but to say they weren’t pleased would be doing a disservice to how pissed an entire governmental branch can get.

But, on to the story. I’m sure you’re more than ready to hear it.

We left off with, assuming you read the last post I made, the man that had just saved me, and I’d be damned if I wasn’t about to buy him a beer. We had wound up at the local dive—I think it was named the Y-Bar, or something similar—and we were maybe a few drinks in when we started talking about more than just what jobs we’d worked before. When we started talking about what he was.

It was his smile that gave him away. Every single tooth sharpened to a point, like he’d taken a file to them. Whenever he grinned, it made me think of a shark circling in the depths, waiting for the right time to try and take a bite. Waiting for just the perfect moment to lunge up . . .

“If you don’t mind me asking, what’s with the teeth?” I said, sipping on the most piss-poor glass of beer I’d ever had.

“My teeth?” He said, staring at me like I was crazy, before grinning again, laughing at the expression that no doubt washed over my face. “My teeth, right. I’m a vampire—I’m sure you know the type.”

Of course I did. Vampires were outside of any regular exterminator’s wheelhouse—that was something you called in to the guys over in the BoSS’s black book, but exterminator’s knew all the signs in case we ever stumbled upon them. I said as much, and started to say something about how anyone knew what a vampire was before he raised his hand.

“I wasn’t done.” He said, grinning that damn shark-toothed grin. “Regular vamps are like . . . cottonmouths. Deadly, sure. A real threat to the regular prey—humans. I’m more of a . . . kingsnake.”

That was when I thought about calling the Bureau. It was strange—he was strange—but more importantly, it was way out of my league. Exterminators aren’t the ones that have to deal with these kinds of threats—we’re supposed to be for the pests. I can assure you that if you pursue this line of work, you won’t be encountering situations like this unless you are very, very unlucky.

I hadn’t really moved—I was about to stand up, to walk away, but his hand was already on my shoulder, pushing me back down into the seat.

“Woah now, there’s no need for you to be rushin’ off like that.” He said, voice colder than steel even as he smiled at me. He drained the rest of his glass before he spoke again, taking his hand off my shoulder once he did. It left a pretty nasty bruise—his grip wasn’t gentle. And he said, “Look, jackass, I eat other vampires. I didn’t lure you here just to try to drain you or convert you or some bullshit—and I certainly didn’t bring you here for you to turn me into the BoSS. And, I can you tell you right now, you ain’t takin’ that job in Mississippi.”

There was a job I had intended to take after the gig here—the one that this man saved me during. How he knew about it, I didn’t know exactly, but I could pretty well guess. Exterminators have to phone in the locations of jobs that they work to the Bureau of Supernatural Services, mainly for record keeping, but also to help identify any problematic areas that’ll require more experienced exterminators. Apparently, he had someone on the inside.

Or the Bureau was helping him willingly. I don’t know which would be scarier.

“You weren’t down at the graveyard because of a friend, were you?” I asked. The man only smiled, offering his hand. I shook it warily.

“Call me King. I’ll tell you what the problem is on the drive over.”

“Over where?” I asked, following him as he walked outside. This was all, in hindsight, the craziest goddamn thing I’d ever gotten myself into, but it seemed like the normal brand of supernatural weird at the time. That was until he told me what the problem he needed so much help with was.

We both tuned in to a CB radio channel, and I followed him out the parking lot. It wasn’t too long until he gave me the rundown—a vampire nest, a big one, set in the middle of New Orleans. They’d been running a pretty tight operation for a few months now—maybe even a full year—just by sticking to taking homeless people off the street, people passing through town, no one who would be missed by the locals. Or, more importantly, no one who’d really be missed by the local police department.

At some point they got greedy. Blood-drunk, as King put it. There was a spike in missing person’s cases around the area, an increase in the stories about kidnappings and gangs roaming the streets. Their big mistake, I remember him saying, was when they tried to convert someone, and she ran out screaming into the street. Somehow, the poor woman managed to outrun them—and the story got back to King. And, I reckoned, the BoSS, if no stories about it ever surfaced.

That was all just the backstory—what he really needed me for, was taking them down. He’d managed to get in good with the vampires actually running the show—they based it out of a bar in the area, and held a “feast” for all the members of their group every month or so. King reckoned this would be the perfect opportunity to burn them all to ash, considering there was no way we’d be able to take care of them traditionally.

So we were going to burn it down, he said. The bar had a kitchen that used gas stoves. He planned on sabotaging the propane tanks to fill up the kitchen before starting a fire in the adjacent room to burn through the wall and blow the place up. It sounded stupid, and I said as much, but he only asked if I had any better plans. Really, besides torching the place, there was no better alternative, but that didn’t make me feel any better about the plan—especially considering that I was going to have to act as a willing “convert” for them to not be suspicious of me.

There wasn’t much to talk about after that, and there was still plenty of road to cover, so I turned off the CB radio and made a call to the Bureau.

“Hey—this is need_a_nightlight, calling in about a suspicious figure in the Central Louisiana area. I believe him to be a type of vampire—please advise.” There was silence at the other end for a few moments before the person at the other end spoke.

“You are to help King with his plan. Orders from the top. Will you two be needing assistance?”

I sighed before relying with, “No backup needed,” and ending the call. It was a damn rare sight to see a vamp nest this big go undetected for so long, and I wasn’t completely surprised to learn that they were fully aware of what was going on. It’d be more surprising if King had managed to actually infiltrate the Bureau, more so than just enlisting their help. It was a testament to what he told me, too—the BoSS takes no chances with entities that could turn against humans. The fact he was working with them meant that they had no doubt he was safe, even if inhuman.

What it meant for me to be assigned as the helper, I have no clue. Maybe it was just by chance, but looking back, I’m not so sure. The caller for that ghoul-case gone wrong hadn’t been the most urgent sounding, nor even particularly worried. Given everything that’s happened since then, it certainly could have been staged—but at the time, I didn’t consider any of that. Just turned the radio back on just to tune into King’s awful rendition of Highway to Hell. Nothing much happened till we actually got to New Orleans.

We parked a good few blocks away, me having changed out of my duds while King kept his jean-and-trench-coat look. (as a man who had no sense of style—it was bad. Pretty damn bad.) It was around 10 PM, I believe—a full two hours before the party started. Enough time to actually put the plan into action.

It was maybe a fifteen minute walk there. I think we just shot the shit, King making sure his pistols weren’t showing out the side of his coat. I did the same—it’s a prerequisite to have a concealed carry permit, the BoSS just happens to have a special one for exterminators. I don’t generally like handguns, but for a stupid plan like this? We’d need all the help we could get without putting more people in danger.

I figure that was my biggest problem with what we were about to do. Blowing the place up would take care of the vamps, sure—burning them to ash was a sure fire way to keep them from hurting others, but explosions and flames don’t exactly discriminate between human and non-human. It wasn’t as if we really had a better choice—at this time of day, everyone should be home, away from the particular part of the French Quarter that we planned to reduce to ash—which would mean we’d be saving more people by eliminating the nest than we’d be endangering with the propane tanks.

That still didn’t make it sit any better with me.

The bar was across the street from us whenever King spoke again, saying, “Alright, fresh meat. You ready? You’re really gonna have to lay on the eager wannabe schtick thick, here.”

“Yeah, yeah. I got it.” I said, despite the fact that acting was probably my worst skill—right next to lying.

“Bullshit you do, but we don’t have time for that.” King said, patting my shoulder like we were old friends. “Look, just keep it cool, go along with whatever they do. As long as you don’t stir up a fuss, I’ll have time to take care of everything else. Just. Play. Along.”

I’d wager that it’s much easier to talk about playing along with vampires whenever you aren’t the type that they like to sink their fangs into, but I kept quiet. I knew damn well we’d only get one shot at this—any sort of slip-up, and we could kiss the chance to nip this in the bud goodbye. There’s no telling how many more they’d kill or turn before the Bureau would ever get a chance to root out the infestation again. Vampirism is, quite literally, a virus, just more on a macro-scale than anything else.

“Alright.” I said, after a second. Not like I really had much choice in the matter. Save lives, or, what, go and get drunk in some other shitty country dive?

“Thatta boy. I might actually start to like you, at this rate.”

“Don’t consider it mutual.”

King just laughed as we walked across the street. He waved at the vamp on duty outside of the bar, said something about how he was starving, how he couldn’t wait to get a bite to eat. Probably the most on the nose joke I’ve ever heard, even from him, but the guard just laughed and waved us in.

Now, I can’t exactly tell you what I expected from a vamp’s feast, but what was going on inside that bar was most definitely not it. Think a rave of a hundred crammed into a space maybe big enough for fifty. I don’t even know how we made it into the crowd, much less found ourselves in the middle of it, but I do remember King shaking hands with some mob-boss looking vamp and looking back at me.

There was no way I could possibly hear him over the music. They had speakers (almost as big as I was) set up towards the bar, absolutely blasting. Someone must have been bribed to ensure there were no sound complaints—but I digress.

I could have sworn he said “here’s the food.” while pointing directly towards me.

The mobby grinned, shook King’s hand a little harder, and finally let him go. King slunk off to somewhere unseen, obscured by the bodies clogging the bar, but the boss headed straight towards me. There was hardly room to breathe, but the vamps around him still managed to scoot out of the way, leaving a bubble of space between me and him as he placed a hand on my shoulder.

“I hear,” he said, “that you’re looking to become one of us.”

I looked into his eyes. He was perfectly passable as a human—no sickly sheen to his skin, his fangs barely more pronounced than regular incisors, overall looking the very epitome of health. Except for those damn eyes. They were slimy, almost glazed over, like a fish which had been dead for much too long.

I smiled. “Yes sir. I’ve been tired of living from paycheck to paycheck for too long. I just . . . I just want to have some fun.” I really couldn’t see anyone turning to these things out of anything other than desperation. Maybe to escape the law, or their family, or their own problems, but always to run away. I needed to tell him something—copying those reasons seemed my best shot. I thought it worked; the boss smiled, even nodded gently, and then took his arm away.

“Tie him up.” He said, those fish eyes staring me down.

I tried to fight back, but it was never a fair match up to begin with. Six or so vampires against one human? I might as well have been a mouse up against lions. A few moments of struggling later and they had me down against the bar, rope digging into my wrists. Someone had killed the music, an eerie silence already filling up the room. There was only the boss walking towards me, the tap of his shoes against the floors.

Just the boss, and the fact that King had left me for dead. Kingsnake my ass, he’d brought me here just to feed the rest of his friends. I don’t know how he’d managed to convince the Bureau he was harmless, but that didn’t change the fact I was as good as helpless against an entire vampire nest.

I was able to turn my head enough to watch the vamp boss step closer, taking his sweet time in reaching me. “We’re getting real tired of you Bureau fucks trying to ruin our fun, y’know? Asshats like you thinking they can walk into our homes and take us out like trash. But you ain’t even one of the big guys, are you? You one of those regular exterminators. Probably only bagged a few spirits, too. The hell’s one of you pitiful bastards doing down here? I can’t believe you even tried taking care of this alone. Probably thought King was one of you, too?”

I stayed quiet. I was trying to give them less of a reason to speed up my most likely inevitable death, but it only seemed to make him even more mad. “Oh, you’re a pretentious little fuck, ain’t you? Probably some redneck piece of shit who’s only been in a city twice in his life. Yeah, alright buddy. Play the strong silent type with your throat ripped out.”

He gave some signal to the vampires around him. I barely caught it, just a flick of his hand, and the ranks advanced towards me. Just a few more steps and they’d be on me. I’m not a religious man, never was, but I tried my hand at praying then. Just in case. I tried thinking more of absolution than the hundred-something pairs of teeth about to dig in, no doubt all of them vying for their own special drop of my blood. I still get chills thinking about the look in their eyes. At that moment, I wasn’t a person. I was cattle.

And then the back of the bar exploded. Relative to the entrance, I was on the left, and the entire back wall went up in a flash of flames and sound. I don’t even think the vamps next to it had any time to react, speared through with flaming hunks of wood and stone as they were.

King was there, untying my hands a second later. I wanted to thank him, but it came out as more of a, “You’re an absolutely despicable motherfucker.”

“Woulda done that sooner, but I forgot we were going to have to block off the entrance. Had to circle back around to park some asshole truck in front of the doors.” He said, cussing as the ropes put up for a few more moments before finally falling away.

The confusion only lasted for about that long. The main body of vampires were still picking themselves or their friends up off the ground, but the explosion hadn’t touched me, or the boss, or his cronies. Too much of a buffer. It didn’t quite make sense–propane tanks, large enough to run two different industrial gas stoves, and they hadn’t blown the entire place skyhigh?

Probably not the smartest thing to think about while running from a literal bloodthirsty horde, but King was laying down cover fire as we ran back into the smoldering wreckage of the kitchen so I had a bit of room to breathe. (Bullets can’t kill vampires, but they still feel pain and their bodies take a minute to adjust to the shock of getting shot.) Clearly, King hadn’t completely emptied the tanks before starting the fire—presumably to save my sorry ass from becoming vampire-dinner—but as it was, the current fire wasn’t going to be enough to take care of the rest of the nest by a long shot. They’d escape through some way or another before the fire spread enough to do its job—which would mean that we completely blew our chance at this.

Unless we set off the rest of the propane.

“I’ve got a really stupid plan.” I called back. It was a longshot, but some of these restaurants didn’t have their own propane tanks. I wasn’t sure if that applied in New Orleans, much less to this bar in particular, but if we could find access to the pipeline on the street, we’d be able to take out a lot more than just the bar. Maybe even the entire block. Hell if I knew if there was even enough gas in those pipes to cause an explosion that big without letting it build up first, but it was our only shot. “Should be a natural gas pipe running under the street—if we can find the sewers, we can probably find the pipeline too. Take that out, and . . .”

“Boom. Yeah, alright, exterminator.” We just ran at that point, but not before King slammed the backdoor shut, pulling a nearby dumpster in front of it like it was no big deal. Normal vampires were a bit stronger than humans, but King? He must’ve been in a whole ‘nother league, just from that. Didn’t really think much of it at the time, though. I was too busy prying the manhole cover out of the ground with a piece of scrap for an improvised hook. It came up with a good bit of force, but King stopped me before I could climb down.

“This is where your job ends, I’m afraid.” It was the least pretentious thing he said to me since we’d met, which was more worrying than I’d like to admit.

“The hell do you mean? We still have half of a nest to take care of.” I’d shoved his hand off my arm. He just grinned back, smiling that same damn sharktooth smile as he did when we met. Same smile as whenever he held me down in that seat.

There was no humor in it. There never was. Just that sense of waiting for the right time to move in. The right time to corner his prey.

I didn’t think there could be a better moment than now. An entire nest, ripe for the taking. “I think you misunderstand. I have a nest to take care of. You were just helping. And you’d damn well get your ass out of here before this place goes up in flames, or the Bureau will be on my ass for months.”

“You better be damn sure you know what you’re doing.” I said, even as I moved out the way. King just laughed.

“How hard can it be? I break any pipes I see, wait a minute, and light a match. You just worry about getting far enough away, exterminator. Vampires are my area of expertise.”

I be damned if I didn’t feel sorry for the blood-drunk fuckers for it, too.

I was still running a few minutes later whenever the explosion shook the ground. It lit up the city like the world’s largest bonfire for a few moments, before it dimmed down into an angry glow on the horizon. Smoke filled the sky like thunderclouds, and it was only a few moments later whenever fire truck sirens started blaring. It took them half a day to stop the fires that broke out after the explosion, I heard. Burned down half the French Quarter, too.

King took his sweet goddamned time lighting up that match, but it was enough for the natural gas to fill the area. I still don’t want to think about how much that must have cost the Bureau in damages to the city, but the accounting part of the operation was never my problem. I do know that they printed something in the papers about a catastrophic failure with the city’s natural gas lines, but it never even made it to the news stations, much less the internet.

I know that blast didn’t take care of all of the vampires. There was no way that a few of them didn’t manage to weasel out of the building before the flames took it, and I wasn’t too surprised whenever I heard a few exterminators in the area talking about having cases taken over by the feds in New Orleans—but even that was pretty quick to stop. King worked fast, I’d give him that.

I was out of the city pretty damn fast, but I was expecting it whenever I woke up to a silver truck idling in my driveway. Took my time getting ready, too, just to pay him back for my almost-death, but I knew I owed the man a beer.

And that time, we didn’t go to some shitty honky tonk—I got to choose.

That was that, for the most part. We kept in contact, and every now and then King would call about some other nest popping up in my area, but they were much smaller, much more manageable without the use of blowing up entire city-blocks.

I think this just about wraps up this story, but again, comment if you have any more questions about the work, or how to become an exterminator. It’ll be a lot more tame for you, I bet, but you can count on some nice paydays if stuff like this ever does turn your way, and you have the stomach for it.

#creative writing #my writing #fiction #short story #writers on tumblr #horror writing #series #NoSleep #nosleep series

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theguidetocryptids · 3 years ago

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“I . . . I’m not sure if I can do this one.”

The Veteran looked back at their smaller friend, and sighed gently before offering their hand. “Trust me,” they said as their companion took it. “You can do this.”

“But I mean, look at it! There’s flying rocks! And lightning! And more krill!” The Moth sounded exasperated, but their hands shook gently, the fire in their eyes burning dimmer than it usually did.

They were scared.

The Veteran was silent for a long moment, looking out into the wasteland that was Eden. They could take their companion back to Home—they were far from the point of no return—but they felt like they would be failing the Moth at the same time. This was their purpose—and more than that, it helped bring peace to those who had fallen here.

But the Moth didn’t choose that, did they?

“We can go back.” The Veteran said, softly. “We can go back, but I just want you to know that there’s more to us than just stone and flame. There’s a little bit of darkness in us, too. Same as the plants. They give off wax for a reason, they aren’t all dark. Not even the krill are.”

The Moth fell still, their gentle nervous shifting gone. The Veteran only spoke like this to them once before—the Golden Wasteland, where a shining city once stood tall, but was now covered in muck and oil, and darkness. Back then, they’d told the Moth about what used to be in this world, but . . . they had never spoke about the Children of Light themselves.

“What . . . why would that matter?” The Moth asked. It wasn’t a confrontational statement, it was pure curiosity. So they were part dark, part coldness and ice. Why was that important, if they chose to be a force of light?

“Because we all come from that.”

The Veteran raised their hand, a single finger pointed up towards the very peak of Eden.

The Heart.

It glowed an angry red, like irritated skin, pulsing and shaking violently, a beam of light piercing it from above, apparently containing the disaster that it wrought. Not all of it—not all of the destruction and corrosion and darkness that it brang, but the worst of it.

“We all come from what made that, by proxy. And he isn’t light.” The Veteran lowered their hand, taking up the Moth’s again, turning to face their companion. It was always going to be their choice, of course—the Veteran would never drag them into being reborn against their will.

For what certainly wasn’t the first time, the Moth surprised the Veteran. “Will we meet him?” They asked, looking up at their taller firmed. “Like, will . . . will we be face to face with him?”

The Veteran looked at them, dumbstruck for a moment, before laughing, shaking their head gently out of shock that meeting the maker of the Heart was what the little one was concerned with. “I reckon we might. Eden will always be his home. He’ll always be bound to this place, after he broke it so completely.”

The Moth took a deep breath, and then took a step forward, leading the Veteran forward. “Right, then.” They muttered. “Let’s get this over with.”

—————

“There’s a—”

“Krill! Yes! I see it! I see it!” The Moth all but yanked the Veteran down behind a shard of an ancient pipe, heaving for breath after their mad dash past the rockfall area. They could tell that they were both getting closer to the peak, but now they had to deal with the actual creatures of darkness. Which would be fine, if the little one wasn’t so used to the Veteran leading them through difficult areas.

“I could always lead us up there, y’know. I’ve done this plenty of times—”

“No.”

The Moth was surprisingly firm, looking up at the Veteran indignantly. “No. I’m going to do this myself. I can do this myself. We’re going to get up there, reach the Heart, and we’re going to meet him.”

The Veteran just smiled.

“Lead on, my friend.”

They moved out from behind the pipe cautiously before taking to the skies, conserving their cape’s charge as much as possible while flying over and above the krill’s path. They really couldn’t risk being spotted from here on out—once they were up, there’d be nowhere to hide.

But the krill didn’t spot them, and they were fine.

And they were much, much closer now. Close enough to feel the rotten energy of the Heart as it writhed, even with the ray of light piercing its center. Red crystals glowed to either side of them as they stepped closer, the Moth hissing with surprise as they felt their light dip, moving past them quickly.

This was the home stretch before the summit. They could feel it.

Squeezing the Veteran’s hand, the little one was darting across the landscape as soon the rockfall let up, narrowly avoiding another Krill’s gaze as they narrowly avoided a chunk of stone the size of their fist flying out of nowhere. They barely missed the next wave, it seemed, but they were safe.

And next to a winged light.

“What’s this doing all the way up here?” They asked confusedly, glancing back to their companion out of confusion. “You said this is where we were made. The winged lights aren’t us.”

“It’s . . . complicated. A lot happens here. You’ll understand soon, just trust me.”

The Moth sighed, but dropped it even as they collected the echo of light, feeling the familiar surge in strength. And, for just a fleeting moment, a pull to somewhere else. Somewhere greater.

That was new. But they’d trusted the Veteran before—it would be strange, to ignore how they had never been let down before right now of all times. “Alright.” The Moth said, leading them into what seemed to be the hallway right before their final destination. They knew it would do nothing, but the little one took the time to light every candle holder that had burned out diligently. For those that would come after them.

With every winged light they collected in that hall, they felt the picture of their destination grow clearer. That of a grand city, soaring temples, a seat for all the elders—a great monument to everything the spirit’s believed in, everything they had been able to accomplish. A thanks to the stars, for the light that they gave.

It was strange, to see what the echoes of light longed for, expected to see at the summit, juxtaposed against the actual state. Black rock, corrupted water, shattered tile. It was all chaos, broken, dark.

The Veteran began to say something, but fell silent as the Moth reached out to a statue. The Moth was smarter than the Veteran felt they gave the little one credit for. No warning, and yet they had already given a portion of their light to the statue, a warm flame hovering above its cracked body.

“The echoes aren’t us,” The Veteran said, softly, lending a bit of their light to the same statue. “But that isn’t to say we can’t help them. That we weren’t made to help them, even if they don’t realize it.”

The Moth was silent, staring into the raging storm ahead of them, of the waves of stone pounding into the ground, waiting to grind them up into dust and spit them back out as faint embers of light. And, strangely, they felt no fear. This was alright. This was okay. This was what they had to do. And they had to talk to him, regardless of what came next.

—————

They proved more than capable at timing their advances through the rockfall, even the Veteran surprised at the deftness at which they lit up the statues—finding some even their taller companion didn’t know about. But that was before the constant barrage, the unavoidable loss of light.

The Veteran smiled as the little one watched the endless shards shattering ahead of them, the Heart beating ominously beyond that, as if every pulse drove the storm a little further. A little harder. A little longer. The Moth was obviously holding out hope that there would be a break to take advantage of, some lull in the storm.

The Veteran only said, “See you in the stars,” and then they were gone away into the chaos, shouldering each and every hit, even when their flame was but a few smoldering coals, their body undefined and grey. The Moth followed their example soon after, giving their light to each and every statue they could find, wanting to leave none of them behind.

But there were only so many statues, and the rocks could only shatter their light so fast.

They were at the top of the hill with the Veteran, overlooking Eden’s Heart. It was much bigger up close, and they were far from the foot of it. Speech was impossible in the cacophony that was the endless barrage of stone, but the Moth took their companion’s hand, and they trekked closer, despite the storm, despite their dwindling reserves of light.

There was barely any left when they reached the Heart proper, the crystal beating away at the world like an open sore. And the Moth knew what they had to do. They put their hands on the surface, closed their eyes, and gave away what little of their light remained. And they saw . . .

They saw a body, immense, and powerful, standing beyond the peaks of Eden. His form was vague—it was stardust, and pinpricks of light, and void, it was blurry at the edges—except for his eyes. Blazing gems of light, somehow harsh and kind at the same time. It’s head was crowned with what looked like broken spires, like a palace made to accent the stars that formed them, and the glory inherent within.

It was shattered. It was in a thousand pieces, metal bent out of shape, stone cracked and defaced, and it was still beautiful.

The King crouched down, their form filling the entire sky above the Moth, until nearly all they could see was one eye, luminous, and harrowing, and comforting. And he said,

“WHY BOTHER, LITTLE ONE?”

The Moth was silent for a moment. It felt like years, but they responded with,

“There is no reason not to care.”

The eye blinked slowly, as if in surprise.

“THERE IS NO REASON TO BE INVOLVED. I BROKE THIS. I BROKE YOUR WORLD. YOU SHOULD HATE THIS.”

A moment, and then, “YOU SHOULD HATE ME.”

“You’re the reason I exist. You messed up. You broke the world. But you’re trying to fix it,” the Moth insisted, stepping forward, gesturing to the world around it. Time appeared stopped—shards of rock hung in the air, the wind no longer whipped past, even the heart was still, even if it still glowed in a horrible way. “You’re the darkness in us. But you’re the light, too.”

“I AM NO FIRE, LITTLE ONE. I AM ONLY DARKNESS, AND STONE, AND REGRET.”

“You’re darkness, and clay, and life. You can fix this! That’s why we’re here! To help you! We came from the stars, from you, even if you didn’t intend to create us!”

“YOU SHOULD NOT BE REQUIRED TO FIX THIS. THE WORLD SHOULD BE WHOLE. THE SPIRITS SHOULD BE MORE THAN STONE AND DUST. I CAUSED THIS. IT IS MY BURDEN ALONE TO BEAR.”

“So you messed up. That doesn’t change the fact you regret it. You didn’t mean for this to happen, right? For the Heart to turn bad? To destroy the temples?”

And there was silence, for a very long time. The Moth didn’t speak, and the King simply thought. Within their eyes, galaxies were born, and thrived, and died. Stars formed, burned, and then winked out with explosive deaths. Nebulae flowed and coalesced and fell apart. And after a very long time, in a quiet voice that did not fit his immense statue, the King said,

“I ONLY MEANT TO JOIN THEM. TO BE WITH THE SPIRITS WHO MOVED ON. I WAS TIRED, OF MY FRIENDS LEAVING, OF NOT BEING ABLE TO JOIN THEM FOR ALL OF THEIR JOURNEY. I WAS SELFISH.”

A pause, and, “BUT WE CAN FIX THIS.”

The Moth smiled. “Yes. We can fix this, with time. With light, and help, and friends to guide us.”

The King drew back up to their full height, their head amongst space. Their crown was a broken cathedral, a symbol of what they had once revered so closely, and what they had lost by accident. And they said,

“THANK YOU, LITTLE ONE. IT’S TIME YOU WENT BACK.”

And then the world was filled with motion again, and the Moth died with a smile on their face.

—————

“I can’t believe you didn’t warn me about the whole rebirth thing whenever we opened the door to Eden in the first place.”

The Veteran laughed gently, patting their companion on the shoulder. “Oh, come on. That would have ruined the fun. Plus, you realized towards the end even without my help. You even talked to the King! I didn’t even know you could do that. Or that we could start to heal the heart.”

The Moth huffed gently, though they secretly enjoyed the praise. “You said it yourself! We’re more than light. We’re darkness, and fire, and clay. And so is the King, and his Heart.”

“I guess so.” The Veteran agreed, leading the Moth down the starlit path. “But, I was meaning to talk to you about something. See, you’re not exactly a moth any more. Not after being reborn, which we will be in a second. So, it’s about time you get a proper name. I was wondering if you had any ideas—“

“No.” Said the Moth, simply.

The Veteran paused, then grinned. “Really? You’re sticking with Moth?”

Moth smiled right back at them, nudging their taller companion gently. “Right, except now, I’m Moth who’s talked with the King. Not just a moth.”

“And here I was, thinking of suggesting Clay.”

Moth looked up at their friend—at their mask. It was the simplest one available—the one given to them at their creation.

Their eyes burned bright, like the King’s, except less sorrowful. “I think,” the Moth ventured, “That Clay suits you more than me.”

The Veteran seemed to consider it for a second, before shrugging gently. They both stood at the final door, now, the light almost blinding them. “How about, as soon as we’re reborn, I’ll be Clay, and you’ll be Moth?”

“Deal,” said the Moth, glad to think of themselves with their old moniker, just for a second. Their change would not be a big one to any other child of the light, they were sure, but it was enough for them.

Now, they weren’t just a Moth. They were the Moth. And that was all they wanted.

#creative writing #my writing #fiction #short story #fandom #writers on tumblr #sky cotl lore #sky cotl #sky fanfic #sky children of the light

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theguidetocryptids · 3 years ago

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I’ve worked in the Southwest United States as a supernatural exterminator for about 12 years at this point, and I’m sort of surprised that I haven’t seen more posts about this type of thing over here. I don’t want to disclose my own salary for privacy’s sake but I’ll say that it’s well within the 6 figure range, if you’re good.

I know a good bit of people are probably interested in that kind of money, but I need to explain a few things first—most importantly, the industry is regulated, and the Bureau of Supernatural Services is your big boss. They also watch the news wires to make sure you don’t have any public slip-ups on the job.

Alright, on to the actual tips/info.

One, I absolutely do not recommend this job if you have any health issues. Heart issues? You’re going to be dealing with literal monsters. Epilepsy? Some poltergeists can get trigger happy with the light switches. Bad knee? You’re going to be doing a lot of running around. And from. It’s not exactly the same brand of manual labor as construction, but it is hard on your body. Luckily you can usually afford an early retirement if you play your cards right.

Two, you’re going to have to be certified if you want to make as much money as possible. This is generally an easy process, you just have to shadow under another exterminator for six months and then take a certification exam—usually routing out some spirit infestation, but sometimes they’ll throw nasty stuff at you, like a ghoul nest or a mycelium infection. Based on your performance, you’ll get either a bronze, silver, or gold stamp, and that’ll determine the equipment you can buy from retailers and what types of jobs you’re legally allowed to do. You can retake the certification exam every three years.

Now, this is the sort of job that accepts you even if you have a criminal record, but they’re a bit wary of accepting people with mental health issues and dealings with paranormal activity in the past. It can make you a bit more liable to injury or bad jobs, but it isn’t the final decision, just a contributing factor. They’ll approve you if your work is good enough and your mentor can vouch for you. Just expect to have to explain yourself over call in the probationary period after you take the cert exam, they try to make sure you don’t sound unhinged.

You’ll also sign an NDA after you get your cert level—don’t talk about your equipment, where you get it, who let you buy it, what you need it for, what you’re doing 5,000 miles away from home—all of that. Breaking it isn’t a crime, but the bureau will strip you of basically everything related to exterminating, and blacklist you from doing work.

Third, and this is kind of tame compared to the last two, you’ll be driving. A lot. I put 80,000 miles on a truck just last year, even got up to 100,000 when I first started up. You can have a set area of operations, but if you really wanna get a good clientele list, you’re gonna have to be willing to stretch your comfort zone a little bit more, loyalty goes a pretty long way in situations like these. You won’t get many repeat customers—be wary if you do—but word of mouth means your name will be put around a good bit.

Fourth, don’t talk about your job if you want to keep it. Confidentiality is VERY important. There’s nothing official like HIPPA as far as jobs for specific clients, but you can get your certification stripped and your equipment seized if you talk about this to anybody who isn’t hiring you or isn’t another exterminator. Luckily, I’m retiring, so I don’t really care if they manage to pin down an anonymous post on me or not.

Fifth and finally, find yourself a partner. Immediately.

Everything else is pretty much like your normal job. Get a good tax accountant, make sure you put cash into expanding the business, don’t spend money faster than you make it, whatever other (better) advice you want to take to heart.

You’ll get full health insurance from the BoSS, but your pay will be dictated by whatever clients you take. Your retirement is also completely up to you, as they don’t want to risk pensions for exterminators showing up in government spending reports.

EDIT:

Reading over this, I don’t feel like I’m doing the work justice. It’s hard. You’re probably gonna hate it, or at least parts of it. You’re sure as hell going to hurt in the morning, and I really don’t want anybody who’s too green around the ears trying to land this job and ruining their life, so let me tell you a story. I think this was my third or fourth job, so a few things are fuzzy, but it still gets the point across.

This must’ve been around winter of 2010. Louisiana area, bad rain, worse roads. Got a call about mausoleums being cracked open in the dead of night, a few freshly buried caskets having the dirt disturbed.

Could have been a lot of things, but I was betting on ghouls. They love to suck the embalming fluids out of corpses before they rot, and newly buried dead are a fresh source of formaldehyde. Took about three days to get down to the graveyard, and when I did, it was raining cats and dogs, but I was on a deadline—another job had opened up in Mississippi, and I could be there if this wrapped up fast enough.

You don’t really have to take much out whenever you’re just scouting the area, but I was fairly confident I already knew what it was, so I took my flashlight, a shovel, and a couple traps meant to snare ghouls so you could relocate them to abandoned graveyards. (They’re good at managing rats and vengeful dead.) It was maybe ten at night, but this was before the time change and with an overcast sky, so it was pitch-black. Not even the moon shone, so it was just the 9-volt flashlight lighting my way.

It was pretty routine at first. Inspect the disturbed graves, check out the mausoleum entrances, put a trap at each, but something just felt . . . off. Usually, when you have a ghoul problem, they aren’t very quiet. They’ve gotten a bit used to exterminators over the years, and while they aren’t friendly, they aren’t afraid to skitter across your path if they feel like it, but this graveyard was just. Silent. Deathly quiet, which is sort of ironic given the woods around there are anything but on any other given day.

I think that was the first sign, anyway. No wildlife around making a racket. No cicadas, no frogs, not even mosquitoes biting my neck. Nothing. I sunk the shovel into the disturbed earth underneath my foot anyways, and looked up, and then there was that deer standing in front of a headstone.

I sort of thought it was an ornamental statue at first—like how some people get statues of the Virgin Mary on top of their graves, maybe some real avid hunter’s final wish—but then it turned to look at me. And screamed.

I’ve probably heard worse, being at it as long as I have, but that’s the one that sticks with me. A deer, a buck, the nubs still covered with felt, screaming like some sort of demon as it charged at me. I nearly shit myself, and damn nearly tripped, but I managed to duck behind a row of graves as it charged, dropping my flashlight as I did. The only thing on hand was the shovel—I’d meant to dig up a body, check to see if it'd been drained, but there wasn’t a point. The skinwalker was much more concerning.

It reared at me again, walking on its back legs and swinging its hooves at me wildly, but I swung, felt the crack of metal on bone. Watched it go down, watched it crack its head on the headstone, and as the blood ran down, the body went limp.

For a second.

And then it was back up, jaw at some impossible angle, gargling in some sick way as it drew back up to its full height, its body going in and snapping. I swung again, but slower, and Ibarely clipped its leg as it stepped back. The skinwalker was changing again, and I was pretty much dead at that point. A human against a walker in its true form was never a fair match-up, and if I could get to my truck in time, I wouldn’t be able to get at the rifle I had stashed in the bed before it was on top of me, with the teeth it was newly growing.

Not like I had any other choice, though. I ran with the shovel in hand like a dipshit, scooped my flashlight off the ground and booked it like the hounds of hell were after me. Barely made it twenty feet whenever I heard its footsteps gaining, covering ground twice as fast as I could ever hope to, gaining still as its transformation was nearly completed. I thought that was the end for me, that it would be a painful, gorey way to go, and then a shot rang out.

My truck wasn’t the only one idling at the drive up to the graveyard. And it certainly wasn’t the nicest, either, compared to the shining thing that’d pulled up beside it.

My savior laughed a bit at how dumbstruck I must’ve seemed, then told me that I owed them a beer.

Apparently, they weren’t in the business properly any more, but they’d take odd jobs if a close friend had something that needed taking care of. He had thought he was going to be out of town, but decided to come back a day early to check it out—he’d done a job there before, and the fact something was there again had him worried. He’d arrived just in time to spot me hitting the skinwalker with the shovel, and gotten his rifle out in preparation.

I just smiled as he told me the story, and tried to ignore the fact that his teeth were pointed when he grinned.

Ah, but that doesn’t have anything to do with being an exterminator.

Like the title says, AMA. You can leave a comment or DM me if you want, I have a few days before I plan on going out and returning all my equipment officially, so I’ll probably respond until then. If there are any other exterminators out there, make a throwaway and leave a comment, I don’t meet nearly enough of you as I’d like to, and talk to even less.

EDIT 2: Grammar.

#NoSleep #creative writing #my writing #fiction #short story #fandom #writers on tumblr #horror writing #horror

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theguidetocryptids · 3 years ago

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A handle creaks in the wind, rusted. The wooden grip seems more ancient than the gray stone surrounding it, the sun having leached every speck of color out of the grain. The metal wire disappeared into a pile of stones, whatever the handle was attached to, obscured.

The traveler regarded it warily. It was . . . conspicuous, that was the word. An entire city one stood here, the rubble of its buildings strewn about in vague shapes hinting at what used to be a well designed road network. Not even the limestone blocks they had used to build were entirely intact, most either eroded into smaller stones or cracked in some way.

But the handle was fine. Old, but still intact.

It could be a trap, they mused. Some sort of mechanism that would launch a poison dart, or ring some bell next to a waiting vagabond. Maybe it was enchanted to bind whoever touched it to the handle irreversibly, to keep them stuck there for eternity, or until one of them gave way. It would be stupid to take it without carefully inspecting the are around it, anyone with half a brain would tell you that.

It squeaked with a shrill voice as it was pulled free of the pile of rubble. The explorer didn’t feel like being cautious today.

It was an old tarnished brass lantern, the glass that was meant to protect the flame being dirty and cracked, but not entirely shattered. It made a sloshing sound even as the traveler tilted it to the side, its weight a bit more than you’d expect of it. Apparently it still held oil, after all these years. Or it had collected rainwater. One of the two.

Taking out a piece of flint and grabbing a nearby rock, a quick couple of strikes prove the former true as the flame flickered to life—barely a wisp, at first, but steadily growing stronger. Perfectly normal, except for the fact it shone an eerie green. The color of spring, and new growth. It would have been soothing if it weren’t so otherworldly, the explorer thought, clipping the curiosity to their belt. They didn’t bother to snuff out the flame—it would be dark soon, regardless, and they had more lamp oil in their pack if it started to run low, but they thought their flint piece was starting to look a bit worse for wear.

They were so preoccupied with the small, dark rock in their hands that they didn’t even notice what the lantern was doing, at first, but as a spring-green tendril of smoke drifted into their vision, they paused.

It was, of course, emanating from the lantern at their hip—but it was . . . strange. It didn’t blow away in the wind. It just sort of drifted down and away, perpendicular to the breeze, but slowly coalescing a few feet in front of the traveler.

It was forming something.

Stepping closer, the smoke-shape had a clear shape—a small rectangle, awfully similar in dimensions to that of the stone blocks scattered around the clearing. If that were all, it would hardly be worth noting, but the rate at which the lantern put off the charmed smoke was steadily increasing, a few more bricks forming around the first. The beginnings of a wall, wagered the explorer, stepping back to watch the building take shape.

All around them, the same phenomenon was taking place, the echoes of ancient buildings becoming more and more solid, the flame at their side glowing brighter and brighter. It seemed like the glass itself was clearer—more whole, less dirty. The brass a bit shinier.

A few minutes later and the first house was complete. The second soon after that—the rest of the buildings down their road already being constructed by whatever strange magic was at play.

As far as magic went, the traveler had learned how to recognize malicious spells whenever they started, but this? It was far from harmful. It was . . . beautiful, in a way. They were seeing the visage of a city that no person had laid eyes upon for hundreds, possibly thousands of years. They saw the houses, the bridges, the walled-in gardens. They saw the lumps of real stone next to what was starting to look like a church made out of green mist.

The only structure that was actually recognizable even without the ghostly outline, a stone watchtower with the top half of it lost to the sands of time. It was a surreal sight, the bottom half made out of white stone and covered in lichen, the top half glowing an ethereal, healthy green in the dusky sunlight.

The traveler made their way through the ruined city, no info forthcoming as to why this city was enchanted in such a manner, as to who felt the need to preserve their history in such a way.

Until the answers appeared in midair, quire literally. Spindly letters formed out of the smoke, arranging themselves about fifteen feet ahead of the explorer. They seemed brittle, delicate—like a gentle breeze might blow them away, but the wend was gusting mightily, and the words stood strong. And they read,

“This is a monument to what we used to be.”

“We used to be grand,”

“We used to be glorious,”

“But now, we are scarcely more than dust in the wind.”

“Our towers have fallen,”

“Our buildings have crumbled,”

“And so all we have left are memories, and the echoes of our own lives.”

“We leave this, for those who are to come.”

“Enjoy our city, as it once was.”

And then they scattered into nothingness, as if swallowed.

The explorer was not usually the type to mourn those who had come before them—their life was usually too busy and too bleak to consider those who had built cities that had already fallen to time. But, for a few minutes after that, they wandered the green ghost of a city, admiring the sight of their quaint homes, the beautifully built bridges. The neatness of their city.

Eventually, they would snuff the flame on the lantern out, watching wordlessly as the city around them faded from an ethereal town back to rubble, and stone, and dust. The lantern seemed just as rusted, now. Even more tarnished, compared to its older splendor.

The traveler liked it more this way.

The flame would never glow that eerie green color again, no matter what they tried, but every now and then during the springtime, the explorer would stop and appreciate the green of the new growth, and remember what used to be.

And smile.

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