"The pessimist complains about the wind;
The optimist expects it to change;
The realist adjusts the sails."
-william a. ward
(For the magician series, eventually)Jasper McFee was one hell of a guy. There are a lot of ways to cheat death, but none are pleasant and every one involves no longer being strictly human. Jasper isn't his real name: he doesn't know it anymore, or even what bargain he made or why. But the staff in the care facility are like everyone else Jasper met, unable to think he wasn't cool or awesome. "He's one hell of a guy," they told me as Jasper sat on a bed, naked save for a diaper, eyes glazed and distant. No one was sure how long he'd been here, just that their hearts ached when they looked at him. The staff took turns to watch over him, touching as little as possible. Outside this place, away from him, they stumbled over explaining the ugliness of desire. It had been enough to draw me here.Jasper looks over, almost as beautiful as a unicorn, and I catch pain in his eyes. Not fire, despite the phrase everyone used, but an empty despair of someone who knows what they are doing even if they don't know why and cannot stop it. I've been told he's tried to kill himself but I don't see a single scar. Whatever he bargained with was a nasty piece of work. That much I'm certain of. I wrap wards about myself as the staff prattle on desperately. Walls of earth for the body, the sky for the soul, cynicism for dreaming. I know it won't be enough; the wards shudder as I enter the room. I reach my senses out to get a feel for him, and his nature hurls through that crack."One hell of a guy," I say, keeping my voice empty. Jasper whimpers, and I pull the despair at the core of him and wrap it into myself as armour. It blunts him a little. "Can you even talk?"He stares. Old/Not Old, the power in him nurturing and aweful, shakes his head. He can't even scream, even if he wanted to. I ripped out his despair and there is no hope for an ending, no desire beneath. He squirms and his bowels loose themselves. The smell drives me back a step, but for a moment there is something else, a twisting under his stomach, a sound like eggshells. Something being born out of his flesh.He really didn't bargain well at all.I speak Words, to impress the staff, and banish him. He resists, whatever is inside screaming into my head, but I am very, very good at banishing, and more than a little angry. "What," one of the staff says into the silence that falls."Jasper McFee was a hell of a guy," I say, and they fall back at whatever is in my expression. "But who was –""He was a king." I don't say of what, or even when, and walk out of the care home without looking back.
Hahahaha! Okay, for some reason, a guy as beautiful as a unicorn... who is wearing a diaper... I seriously just cackled so loudly I woke Eva up...Alcar, I've said this a dozen times... but you keep prompting me to say it again with each new segment...I LOVE your magician series!!!!
Very well done.
Jasper McFee was one hell of a guy.Naturally he was. He lived in Hell. How he landed there was quite the story having to do with manipulating computer programs, hiding from law enforcement, dabbling in the black arts and gardening. But that was for another time.Hell wasn’t as bad as he thought it might be. He still worked with computers, didn’t have to worry about law enforcement since his boss was the law and still maintained his garden. The garden was located in the section of Hell called Eden.
Oh, nice :)
... *snort* dabbling in black arts & gardening...... are you and Alcar trying to kill me? Seriously! Hahahahaha! So funny, Sue!!!I'd like to know what he's growing in that garden though ;)
I have no idea what he's growing --my mind works in mysterous ways. Anyway, the garden is Eden...
Yeah, I got that :) I'm just thinking he'd be able to grow way different things in Eden rather than his garden back home ;)
I liked yours also Alcar :DI've been trying to think up a good name for a retirement home for weres, witches and the ilk. I'd welcome any suggestions.
I haven't given it any thought yet, but it is tucked into the back of my head ;)
My brother once told me the retirement home he was going to work at was called the Pearly Gates. After I stopped laughing, I told him he must have that wrong since no one would ever call a retirement community that. Turned out to be something else starting with a P, but that is one option :) Or something based around mythological anti-monster stuff: silver, iron, sunlight ... mind be hard to do, depending on how many critters the story has (and if the myths have any validity at all). Or Crytpo Aces and the like (borrow from Cryptozoology as a term and get something?)
Cryptid House etc.
thanks @alcar - you've given me some ideas. I just heard the word Cryptozoology recently - but I know what you mean
Jasper McFee was one heck of a guy. Seeing his obituary in the Times almost brought me to tears, despite the circumstances.I didn't want to do it. My whole body rocked as I threw the pistol, tarp, rags, and shovel into the back of my mini-van. I tried to fight back, but Roger was too strong.My shrink tries to tell me Roger isn't real. Somehow I can't believe him. How can something so physical, so daunting, possibly be an aberration living only in my mind? The chill of his favorite knife on my neck is too consuming to be a trick. His eyes have too much life in them to be nonliving.He's staring at me, right now, as I write this in my blood-stained diary. I feel it even when I'm not looking back. That smile spells out a single word, one that I'm not sure I can bear again without going insane. Murder.
Type me out a line of Shakespeare or a line of nonsense. Dumb-blonde-jokes & Irish jokes will make me laugh myself silly :)