13. (Something Like Life)

04/10/202504/10/2025 ~ Matthew Roys ~ Leave a comment

Life is strange here. I should absolutely hate it. No internet, no alcohol, and no company other than an old lady. But here I am, a few days in, finding the whole experience strangely peaceful. I eat bland but healthy meals with Mabel, then for the rest of the day I isolate myself in one of the many spare rooms and write.

I never really thought about how much of my time is spent trying. Trying to find a job. Trying to find an agent. Trying to find inspiration. Trying not to fail. It’s exhausting, and ultimately it’s got me nowhere. None of those are really an option here. I have nothing but time and blank pages to fill.

Every day I’ve had texts from my friends. I think I’ve spoken to them more since coming here than ever before. Their concern actually makes me uncomfortable. I like to think of them as bastards, not caring individuals with my best interest at heart.

This is weighed against the complete lack of communication from Steph. Nobody else has spoken to her either, so I could be anywhere for all she knows. For the first few days, this was the hardest part. Had I really been that much of a burden to her? Was she really glad that I was gone? Now I don’t care. What’s done is done. The only thing important now is my future.

I’m not much inclined for optimism, but I’ve hit rock bottom and it’s proven to be softer than I imagined. I know this sense of peace won’t last so I’m enjoying it while I can. I view it as a holiday, or a writing retreat.

When was the last time I had a holiday? Not since I was eight. Our parents took us to Skegness for a week. I don’t exactly remember much, but we used to go there every year. After Dad died, Mum never took us anywhere. All I remember is the sea. I’ve not been to the seaside since.

My phone starts to ring. It’s a number I don’t recognise. My stomach lurches. I hope it’s a cold-caller. It isn’t.

“Hey, it’s Josh, Tommy’s cousin. I’ve just got back to the steel city. If you’re still wanting the job then come down to the store this afternoon and I’ll get you sorted.”

“Yes, I still need it. Cheers mate. I’ll see you soon.”

Fuck. Seems like my holiday is over. Reality is knocking. I knew this was coming, but I’d still hoped for a few more days of peace.

“Off into the big world now then?” Mabel grins over her mug at me after I explain the situation to her as we eat lunch. “You’ll be grand, don’t you worry.”

I’m not so confident. The job is one I dread, and even if I somehow don’t hate it I know I’ll manage to fuck up somehow. I always do. Not for the first time my thoughts whiplash back to the scratchcard. Blaming all of my problems on Pete would be disingenuous, but all the major life-changing ones were squarely on the bastard’s shoulders. Steph’s betrayal and the straight up theft of my only hope. Things would be different if I still had that damn card.

I finish up my cuppa and stand.

“Anyway, I’d best be off. It’s a long walk from here.”

“Nonsense,” Mabel says sternly. “Look at those clouds. You can’t walk all that way in the rain. You’ve got to make a good impression on a job interview. You don’t want to be all sweaty and wet.”

“It’s not really an interview and I already know the bloke.”

“That’s not the point. It’s all about showing willingness and pride. That’s what my Frank always used to say. I can’t have you turning up in a state. Frank would be spinning in his grave. Here.”

She holds out a crisp £10 note that had been tucked into her apron pocket. I stare at it for a moment then try and turn it away. Mabel is having none of it. She grabs my wrist with surprising strength and shoves the money into my hand.

“Get yourself a taxi. Go on. I’m not one to take no as an answer.”

I offer her a smile and make a dramatic show of ringing the taxi company. A shrill voiced woman confirms the booking.

“There you go. A taxi’s booked. You happy now? I was looking forward to the walk. I’ve not left the house since I got here. One might call it a prison.”

Mabel frisbees a digestive biscuit at my head with a quick flick of her wrist. Her smile belongs on a demon, not a granny.

“Ain’t nobody stopping you from wandering. You scared I’ll block you in and force you to the floor if you try? These frail bones are mighty intimidating, eh?”

“Heaven, no! A sweet old dear like you would never try to overpower me. It’s poison I worry about.”

She laughs like a hyena and I start to fear she might have a heart attack. Still laughing, she stands up to make the habitual trip to the kettle.

There is a well worn path on the floor from her seat to the stove. The house is huge, but her entire life is encapsulated within the narrow zone between kettle, table, and bed. I can’t help but wonder if she’s really happy. She’s rich, wants for nothing, and has a cheerful personality, but her life seems so empty.

I wasn’t lying when I said I was looking forward to the walk. I’ve never much liked cars. Walking is an excuse to avoid responsibilities for a little while, a time where there are no expectations beyond simply reaching your destination. Even I struggle to mess that up. With a taxi booked instead though, I’m now left with spare time that I don’t know how to spend.

I’ll never admit it, but I’m too nervous to do anything productive. I know the job’s guaranteed. These nerves are for once entirely unrelated to the prospect of failure. They drip from the inevitability of the future, and from my pride and ego when the mirror of reality is held up to them. I can see the only available path clearly before me, but is no path the better option? Is life at any cost a life worth living?

Content that I’m trapped here for a little while, Mabel pours me another cup of tea. I feel more tea than man. This is the longest I’ve gone without an alcoholic drink in years. Good hydration, regular sleep patterns, and a diet not made up almost exclusively of junk. My body doesn’t know how to cope.

“It’s your first trip out since you got here. Any grand plans for after your meeting? A special lady who’s been lonely without you?”

I snort and almost choke on my tea. Madaline had never called me back, so that was that avenue closed off. My mind barely has a chance to settle on her though before it jumps to the purple-haired girl from the shop. I feel a strange pang thinking about her. Though this in turn only reminds me of the scratchcard and sends a spike of anger through me. I try to shake it off.

“No special ladies for me I’m afraid. You’ve got no competition for my time. You’re truly blessed.”

“A young man like yourself should be looking to settle down soon. That’s what I keep telling our Larry. Folk these days just don’t seem to want it.”

“Want’s not got a lot to do with it. The world’s different these days. Everything’s bigger. More open. You meet more people, and have people from across the world all vying for the same jobs. Even our expectations are bigger. If I managed to get a decent job and find someone who I wanted to live with, you can’t raise a family on a single income anymore. We’re all little fish thrown into the primordial ocean.”

Mabel nods sadly. “Yes. That’s basically what our Larry said too. I don’t envy you youngsters. My generation had hardships, terrible ones, but it all felt like it meant something, that we were working towards a better tomorrow. Somewhere along the way I think we all got very lost.”

I don’t answer. What can I possibly say? Things are fucked. But how much can we blame on the generations before us? I look at certain people in the generation below me and I see burning anger. A desire to actively change the world. They’re born knowing that society is broken and that the dreams we are force-fed are lies. But for us, we’re complacent. Too bought into the system to rebel, and too utterly tired to care.

A horn beeps from outside. I give Mabel a smile as I stand.

“Well, that’s my ride. Philosophy will have to wait.”

“Good luck. Show them your worth!”

Previous – 12.

Next – 14.

2. Lives Much Like Maggots. (When Dead Gods Dream)

13/09/202504/10/2025 ~ Matthew Roys ~ Leave a comment

When Dead Gods Dream.

Wren passed through the gateway and entered into a ring of open space that had originally served as a no-man’s-land between the inner and outer wall where any threat would be trapped and clearly visible. Those days were long in the past. Now it was filled with hundreds of tents and pavilions belonging to travellers, migrants, or those too poor to get by within the city itself. While the smell of death was unpleasant, the distinctly human smell was worse. The conditions here were awful, but at least they were within the safety of Order.

Beyond the tatty camp rose the inner wall of Voyeur. Unlike its outer counterpart, this wall was twice the height and bore a smooth clay finish that gave it a sense of uniformity unknown to the rest of the landscape. Guards patrolled the top of the wall while colourful flags and banners flew from its vast surface. It was a bastion of protection in an otherwise deadly world.

Wren weaved her way through the sprawling tangle of tent ropes and clotheslines, slipping between the heavy flow of humanity as the outer city residents went about their lives in a bustling chaos of mundanity. All manner of animals intermingled with the men and women, adding to the confused cacophony of the place. Every foot of space was filled with movement and noise. Compared to the near silence past the Order barrier it was overwhelming.

Merchants attempted to sell their wares, shouting to be heard over the already painful clamour. Most of the goods Wren could see were broken, useless, or well past their prime, but the people here didn’t have the luxury of being picky. A vulture blocked her path as she was passing a table filled with dead animals and squawked loudly at her.

“Now then, young mistress, care to take a gander at my finely curated stock. You look like a girl who could use a feline companion. A pretty kitty would suit you much better than that mangled magpie on your shoulder. I happen to have a beautiful specimen with a gentle demeanour,” the carrion bird told her with all the gusto and charisma of a seasoned salesman. He flicked his head in the direction of his stall.

There was indeed a cat there. It had black fur and was laid on its front, its black eyes staring forward, and its chin resting on its front legs. It was still. Suspiciously so. There was no telltale sign of breathing and even the carefully arranged pose couldn’t hide the vacancy of the eyes.

“That cat’s clearly dead.”

“She’s just sleeping. With her eyes open. She’s a little strange.”

Wren stared at the vulture until he shifted his weight uncomfortably and shrugged.

“Fine, the cat’s dead,” the vulture relented. He changed tact quickly and pressed on. “Still, just think of all the uses. You could have it stuffed as a lovely decorative piece, or deconstruct it for that lush fur. Meat is meat after all. You can’t go wrong with a nice feline stew.”

“The eyes do look juicy,” Krow added hopefully.

“Until I sell all this then we don’t have the sparks to buy anything. Maybe next time,” she said, nodding respectfully to the vulture. She didn’t wait for a response before disappearing back into the crowd.

Wren’s target wasn’t anywhere in the jumble of the outer city but rather was the main gate into the heart of Voyeur. A dozen armed guards stood around the entrance and barred entry for most of the bedraggled travellers who sought to pass. Bags were checked and clothing was patted down. Only a small trickle of those lining to enter were allowed to pass. Wren joined the queue and waited her turn just like the others. When she finally reached the front the guard gave her a small nod of recognition but still checked her sack of fungi. He didn’t pat her down and asked her permission before checking her belongings. It seemed her reputation as a witch really was spreading.

The guard waved her through the gate and she emerged into the inner city of Voyeur. Wren watched as newcomers to the city froze in place around her and stared dumbly at the crude imitation of heaven that sprawled out before them. The streets were paved with plates of cream chitin that meandered in every direction between tall blocks of white buildings that looked to be carved from colossal bones. Rising up from the centre of the city stood the Feeder Peaks, twin halves of a huge beak that had once been the terrifying mouth for the god whose corpse they occupied. The obsidian mountains leaned over the gaping maw that led into the warped darkness of the god’s innards.

Wren slipped past the stunned travellers and continued towards the closest apothecary store. The sights of the city were all she had ever known and held little wonder for her now. Salves and Salvations was all she had eyes for at the moment. The shop was on the second level of a corner building. She heaved the sack up the carved stairs that ran along the outside of the structure and ducked her head through the narrow doorway.

The room was dimly lit with yellow mushrooms that gave a soft glow of fluorescent light. Shelves upon shelves littered the walls filled with vials and ingredients. Behind a slab of bone that served as a counter was an old man who worked away with a mortar and pestle. Most folk knew him as Doc Tabbot. A multitude of smells assaulted Wren’s senses but she was used to it at this point.

“What have you brought for me today, child?” the old man asked. His voice was strained, his throat damaged many years before in an accident. Wren knew that behind the counter he only had one leg.

She ignored the fact that he had called her child again and proceeded to tip out her haul onto the counter. She quickly formed two piles then swept one pile back into the sack. What was left was an assortment of fungi that would best suit the apothecary’s needs. The old man looked over them critically, picking up each sample and studying it closely. Eventually he nodded, a small, satisfied smile creasing his weathered face.

“You deliver quality ingredients as usual. Three hundred sparks.”

“Three fifty.”

“Three hundred and twenty and not a slither more.”

“Deal.”

Doc Tabbot tutted softly to himself. “I much preferred it when you first started bringing me supplies. You were grateful for the smallest scraps back then.”

“I was six and you were exploiting me.”

“Details, details,” he muttered dismissively. “Though I don’t suppose you’d gather up some slugs and snails like the old days? I’m running low.”

Wren couldn’t help but smile. “I’ll get some of the kids to gather a few. They could do with something productive to do. I’ll handle the selling side though before you get your hopes up.”

“Fine, he grunted. He fumbled through his pockets and pulled out a palm sized disk of blue-tinged bone. “Here’s your payment for today.”

Wren pulled out a blue disc of her own. Doc Tabbot scratched something across the surface of his with a large pin until it began to flicker with a ghostly flame. He then held it over Wren’s until the flame surrounded both discs. After a second the flames faded and Doc slipped his back into his pocket.

“Three hundred and twenty sparks just as promised.”

Wren had once read that before the gods made contact, people had used metal coins and paper notes as currency. The funny thing was that they didn’t smelt down the coins or burn the paper. They existed solely to be passed around without any inherent use. She couldn’t begin to imagine how that had worked. In Wren’s world, if something didn’t help directly to keep you sheltered or fed then it had no value.

Even though the gods themselves were long dead now, their sparks had remained. The sparks were tiny slithers of souls, fragments of spiritual energy that could be collected and dispersed using specially made artefacts called soul cells. The sparks fuelled society. Not only could they be used for trade but they could be consumed to create fire, heal wounds, or even empower an individual’s body. Sparks were a valuable resource indeed.

“Oh, before you go, here’s the usual concoction for your mother. I’ve increased the potency and changed one of the active ingredients. I’m hoping it will keep her conscious a little longer than usual. Give her my regards,” the old man said as he handed across a finger length bone tube topped with a cork. Wren stashed it and gave the man her thanks.

She still had a lot of work to do before her mother was due to awaken. Her next stop was at one of the markets to pick up supplies now that she had some sparks to use. The market was heaving with people and animals as usual, a miniature version of the sprawling stalls and tents of the outer city, though here things were more ordered and the goods had an expected level of quality.

Wren’s first stop was to pick up a small pouch of eyeballs to fulfil her promise to Krow. The magpie gobbled one down greedily and danced across her shoulder as he devoured it. Next she grabbed a bundle of roach mince from a stall that had several roaches tethered beside it for sale. The large insects skittered back and forth along their little patch of space, their heads swivelling to follow each passer by. Wren watched them, trying to connect her thoughts with them like she would with animals, but it was fruitless. Whatever phenomena had connected the consciousness of most animals together when the gods arrived had not included insects.

Her next stop was for some bonedust before finally reaching her last stop at a stand filled with flowers. While conditions outside the orderfield were generally too harsh for everything but fungi, within them it was possible to grow small plants like flowers and herbs. Most of the flowers were reds or dark colours, but dedicated growers were able to produce brighter, lighter coloured specimens. Wren bought a small bouquet of pink flowers and a sachet of strong smelling lavender. Fully stocked up, she left the market behind and began her journey home.

She passed by the Feeder Peaks and the Great Maw, slowing only slightly to watch the men and women at work, a system of pulleys constantly hauling raw materials out from within the god’s body. Teams of workers dragged bone and putrid meat from the maw to clean and repurpose whatever they could. It was here that Krow hopped off her shoulder.

“”I’ve got some errands of my own to run. Important business.”

“You just don’t like being around children.”

“They’re loud, seem incapable of understanding personal boundaries and consent, and are just generally sticky and awful. Utterly frightful creatures. Anyway, you don’t need me there. I know how much you’re looking forward to seeing your mum. She was only awake for five minutes last time afterall.”

He took off, disappearing over the rooftops to do whatever it was he did when Wren wasn’t around. Krow was tight-beaked when it came to his personal life. She didn’t mind. He was entitled to his privacy. It wasn’t like she owned him.

Wren picked up her pace even more until she was almost jogging. Now that she was nearly home her excitement was building. It had been two weeks since she had last heard her mother speak. Her slumbers had been growing in frequency and length for the last few years. She was very ill, but every time she awoke she spoke words of great wisdom. Wren longed to talk with her. To listen to her tell stories of her past and for Wren to vent all her feelings over hour long chats like when she was little. That was unlikely now but Wren would hold on to every fleeting moment she could have with her.

In just a few scarce hours, Rosabella Ashmoore would be among the living again.

Previous – 1. A World of Rot.

Next – 3. Dangers.

1. A World of Rot. (When Dead Gods Dream)

11/09/202504/10/2025 ~ Matthew Roys ~ Leave a comment

When Dead Gods Dream.

The air shimmered like spilled oil. An uncomfortably warm wind blew southwards through the arced maw of the Feeder Peaks and across the All-Seeing Lakes that circled the city of Voyeur. Northern winds were always unpredictable due to the frothing maelstrom of the Abyssal Ocean that flanked the city. As weather went, sticky warmth was considered a good day.

Between each of the nine jaundiced lakes that formed a ring around Voyeur were narrow pathways that linked the city with the outside world. Between the edge of the lakes and the city itself stood the creamy glow of the Order field. The protective sphere surrounded the city like a translucent eggshell. Its constant crackle created a low background buzz that could be heard from a mile away like a million starved mosquitos baying for blood.

Beyond the city and the Order field and the sickly lakes worked a lone figure. Wren Ashmoore let the wind sluice across her body as she worked, ignoring the constant pin-prickle sensation of sweat by keeping her hands busy with mushroom picking, and her mind occupied with singing softly into the soupy air. A leather sack was at her side, already half full with the morning’s harvest of fungi. The sack was her only companion beside a ragged magpie that stood on a nearby pillar of stone.

Few souls dared to brave the world beyond the crackling sphere of Order that protected Voyeur. Demons, mutants, and madness festered without an Order-field to keep the world in check. The worst terrors tended to avoid large settlements like Voyeur, but experience had taught Wren to always be wary. She never strayed too far from one of the land bridges between the lakes.

No human could swim across the All-Seeing lakes. They weren’t filled with water but rather thick jelly that sucked at anything unfortunate enough to find themselves within it. The viscous yellow discs rose like perfectly smooth hills towards their centre, each crowned with a pool of deepest black. When viewed from a distance they were unmistakably the colossal eyes of a dead god.

Fungi was the only thing that grew from the rotting flesh of the continent. Some species were small and grew in the damp shadows while others were taller or squatter than a grown man. Hundreds of shapes and colours spread out across the landscape before Wren in a sickly kaleidoscope of rot.

Wren knew a lot about fungi. You had to if you worked with them. It would be all too easy to mistake similar species and die gruesomely in a puddle of your own blood-filled vomit. Some didn’t even need to be eaten to be deadly. Spores alone could be deadly, and not every death was quick. Certain species even replaced a still living body’s nervous system with its own mycelium network, turning the poor soul into a zombified slave to the fungus. To the informed observer though they represented a world of opportunity.

Food was always scarce in Voyeur, so anything edible was coveted, but then there were also those that sought certain mushrooms for medicinal properties, others for their deadly toxins, and many that wanted to escape into the hallucinations that some fungi could trigger. There were other, more practical uses for them too. Wren had dedicated years to studying mycology and considered herself one of Voyeur’s experts.

This close to the city, the gigantic mushrooms known as skycaps had long since been felled, but they still loomed in the distance, close enough for all manner of horrors to approach unseen. Their wide caps formed a near unbroken ceiling, casting huge swaths of the land in an inky gloom that hid countless dangers. Even the softness of the fleshy white ground beneath Wren’s feet would mask the sound of footsteps. That’s why it was vital to always have an escape route nearby.

Wren worked quickly with a small knife made of bone, selecting a fungi and cutting it free with practised, almost mechanical movements before throwing it into the sack. The air was heavy with the perpetual sickly-sweet scent of death. With each step her feet sunk slightly into the cold, pallid flesh of the god corpse. Wren never wore shoes beyond the walls. Everything was soft with rot. Shoes quickly became damp and degraded, and repairs or replacements were hard to come by.

She only had two sets of clothing, one light shift made from webworm thread, a pair of snug trousers, an equally snug top, both of which had been handed down from her mother, and a cloak that was still far too big for her that had once belonged to her father. Wren wished she could wear the shift to help combat the weather but loose fabric catching or snagging was a death sentence, so Wren suffered the heat with little complaint.

Despite the constant danger Wren enjoyed the work. Her mother had taught her about the different types of fungi when she had been a little girl. Her mum had always been a thin, sickly woman, but she had never shown fear of being outside of the city. Wren remembered her mother telling her that observation was much better than fighting prowess. Why risk a fight when you know exactly where each threat might lay?

Most thought her mother mad. Who but a raving lunatic would take a child into the hellish wild? But even back then Wren had found a solace in the silence. There was a simplicity to the brutal landscape of death that couldn’t be found in the chaotic swirl of caged humanity.

“There’s a corpsehawk coming,” stated a nervous voice beside her.

The voice belonged to Krow the magpie. The bird cocked its head to the side and blinked all four of his eyes one at a time in a ripple that started with his back left eye and ended at the back right. His one foot shifted and hopped constantly, eager to take flight, while the peg that was fastened where his other foot should have been tapped the cracked stone surface in an impatient rhythm.

Wren followed the direction he was looking and spotted a distant speck in the red hued sky. It very well could have been a corpsehawk, not that it mattered. Anything outside of Order would kill her with frightening ease. Still, she trusted Krow’s vision. It had saved her life more than a few times.

“That’s the second one this week,” Krow muttered as Wren dropped the last mushroom into the sack.

“Could be the same one.”

“Could be. It shouldn’t be here though.”

“You could always fly up and ask it.”

The bird gave her a withering stare. His four eyes made it all the more intense. “Just because it can talk doesn’t mean it’ll parlay with me. It’d eat me as soon as say hello. No. Much better to ignore the problem and hope it disappears. Now let’s go. Corpsehawks have a nasty turn of speed when they spot a potential meal.”

“You’re right. We’re done here anyway. I’ve still got so much I need to do before Mum wakes up. I’ve been waiting two weeks to speak to her.”

Wren grabbed the sack and slung it over her shoulder. The knife stayed in her hand. Hidden dangers could always strike, and while anything could kill her, she didn’t want to make it too easy. Krow hopped across onto her shoulder and the two quickly approached the pathway between the eyes. He scanned the land behind them as Wren focused the land in front.

While Order stopped monsters, it didn’t prevent desperate cutthroats and muggers. As far as Wren was concerned, humans presented a bigger threat to her safety. Beasts and demons could be avoided, but people couldn’t be.

Strangers to Voyeur spoke of the constant unnerving sensation of being watched while in the vicinity of the city. To Wren and the other natives it was a simple fact of life. You couldn’t rely on that subtle unsettled feeling to alert of danger. Many had found that out the hard way. To travel alone was simply suicide. That’s why Wren had Krow.

She couldn’t rely solely on her friend though. She continued her soft singing and tried to look as carefree as she could. Potential observers were more likely to make mistakes when they underestimated the observed.

The pearlescent barrier of Order stood just beyond the ring of sightless eyes. The air crackled and the world beyond its flowing veneer looked warped as though the outer wall of the city was swaying drunkenly. Wren passed through it without slowing and let the feeling of crackling ice ripple across her skin and through her soul. It never failed to rip the breath from her lungs but she had experienced it enough to stave off the worst of the sensation. While it was uncomfortable for her, it was deadly for anything of a demonic nature.

Krow shuddered as they passed through, scrunching his four eyes tightly together. He let out a sigh as they emerged from the other side then shook his feathers.

“You think we have enough to afford a juicy eyeball for your good friend and bodyguard? You promised me one last week,” he asked her.

“I’m a woman of my word aren’t I? Sometimes unforeseen costs can’t be avoided.”

“You bought a doll for a whiny child who couldn’t look after her last.”

“Her house collapsing and killing her parents is hardly her fault. Humans need comforting distractions. I can’t bring her parents back, but a doll to hug and confide in is like a totem, something we place faith in and breathe a kind of life into. It’s important. Believe me. Anyway, I know you have your own stash of treasure you could trade for little treats.”

“Treasure to a noble bird such as myself is like a totem, something we place faith in and breathe a kind of life into,” Krow parroted. “Our ancestors were powerful dragons who’s social hierarchy was built around the accumulation of wealth. It’s in our blood. A part of our cultural heritage!”

“Fair enough. Don’t get your feathers ruffled. I think we should be set for today. Those wanton warlocks fetched a good price last time I found some.”

“Are they the little purple mushrooms with the questionable shape?”

“Yeah, those ones. Apparently when they’re prepared correctly they give the user an erection that lasts for three hours. People pay good money for that.”

“Why would anyone want that? Us animals learned early that the quicker the better. Why leave yourself vulnerable for longer? Surely it gets boring after a few minutes? And sore!”

Wren ignored the bird’s question. They were in the shadow of Voyeur’s wall now, right where she had discarded her shoes in the early hours of the morning. She slipped them back on then began to follow the jagged curve of the wall eastward towards the closest gate into the city.

The outer wall was a mess of bone, hide, and chitin that was liberally plastered with wattle and daub. It only stood about ten feet tall and could be broken apart fairly easily with a hard tool and a little time, but time was exactly what it bought the people within. It kept most of the beasts out and put just enough of an obstacle in the way of an invading tribe that a proper defence could be mounted.

It wasn’t long until the two lookout columns that flanked the eastern gate came into view. It was known as the Foragers’ Pass and was the smallest of the city’s gates. Two guards stood beside the gateway itself with another two standing atop the columns. The two on the ground were armed with shields and spears while the two above each had a tall basket filled with javelins. The constant damp made bows all but useless. All four had a bagpipe-like instrument hanging at their side which could be used to communicate with the guards within the city itself. The lower guards greeted Wren with curt nods as she approached. Her white hair made her distinctive, even at a distance, so she rarely had to identify herself.

“Looks like you had a good morning,” the older of the two commented. He was a bald man with a drooping moustache who went by the name Russ.

“It’s a lot easier to work when I don’t have people attacking me,”

“I can’t send out Griss every time someone passes through the gate,” he said, nodding his head towards a stern looking pigeon who perched nearby. “You know the dangers of coming out here well enough. Not that there’s many stupid enough to follow a witch.”

“It didn’t stop the last one,”

“What can I say? There’s no accounting for terminal stupidity. The three days of full body cramps you put him through should have done the trick though. They say he screamed non-stop the entire time. You’re developing a reputation.”

Wren frowned. “I only wanted to paralyse him. I panicked and grabbed the wrong pouch. The bone-bane spores are meant for bigger creatures.”

Russ placed a scarred hand on Wren’s shoulder. He was missing half of his pinky finger. “That bastard followed you with bad intentions. He got what he deserved, and he can thank the dead gods he’s still among the living to reflect on his actions.”

He stepped back to let Wren pass through. She nodded and stepped through the gate and into the city of the All-Seeing god.

Next – 2. Lives Much Like Maggots.

3. (Something Like Life)

31/03/202104/10/2025 ~ Matthew Roys ~ Leave a comment

Something Like Life.

Corgi is already outside waiting for me. I sometimes wonder where he goes when he’s not with me. He never really mentions his home or family, though I know he has them. He feels almost like a side character in my life, always waiting on the sidelines for somebody else to appear. Maybe I should ask him. I know he hasn’t been having an easy time recently.

“You linger like a bad smell,” is what I end up saying though.

“Yeah, and your attitude stinks, so that’s probably why we get along.”

I snort and give him the middle finger, which he returns like a patriotic salute. I start down the road and he trots behind me to catch up. Even at this time the streets are busy. The sky is black and a fine drizzle hangs in the air, but city life never slows. I notice that most of the beggars are gone though. I wonder where they go when crowds die down and the nights set in.

I take the path that I’ve walked so many times I could retrace it with my eyes closed. It’s a good job too, because coming back I’m usually so far gone that I might as well be blind. We don’t really talk as we walk. Most of our store of conversations had been drained during the morning. Thankfully, it isn’t long before we’re back in the shadow of the Wetherspoons.

Larry and Toto are already waiting for us inside. They’re sitting at the same table we had occupied hours earlier. The place is much busier now. Steak nights always draw in a good crowd. I slump into the chair beside Toto while Corgi goes to the bar to get us drinks. Again, I vaguely wonder where he gets his money from, but know I’ll never bother to ask him.

“You are looking well, all things considered,” Toto tells me. “I worry about you at times.”

“Life is just the interconnecting tissue between moments of misery. I accept that, so have no reason not to live it to the fullest. YOLO and all that bollocks, you know?” I answer with a smile that rivals Toto’s. “Alcohol is just the mortar to fill in the cracks in that confidence.”

“To be fair mate, that sounds like something an alcoholic would say,” Larry quips.

“An alcoholic probably wouldn’t have the coherency required to articulate philosophical theories regarding the ephemeral nature of existence,” I answer, my brain working in overdrive to pull out the most pretentious chain of words possible and speak them without fucking up. My brain fails me on most things, but any attempt to be a dick usually succeeds with flying colours.

“That’s proper good mate. It’s almost like you should be a poet or something.”

“Fuck you.”

It’s at this moment Corgi returns, placing an orangish pitcher down in front of me.

“What the fuck’s this?”

“It’s a cocktail. Sex on the Beach. The bar lady recommended it.”

“Corgi, under no circumstances do I ever want to drink cocktails with you, let alone one named Sex on the Beach. Sex is the last thing I want to think about when I see your face. And why would you ever do it on a beach? Sand gets everywhere. That’s real uncomfortable. I can only imagine it’s like tossing off with sandpaper. Awful. So why have you put these thoughts in my head?”

“Because it’s fruity and filled with alcohol.”

I take a sip and it is indeed very sweet and filled with alcohol. I shrug and drink more. “Fair enough.”

Larry leans across the table and lowers his voice. “How’s Steph doing? I heard she’s been ill.”

“You’re as subtle as a sledgehammer to the balls. I want you to take any thoughts in your head involving my sister and thoroughly wash them away with bleach.”

“Hey, I’m only asking. It’s not like you care.”

“I care by association.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means that I don’t care what she or you do in your own lives, but I don’t ever want to imagine anything involving either of you, let alone together. I have enough nightmares as it is. I’m pretty sure that she finds you disgusting though, so thankfully I don’t really have to worry about it.”

“That’s harsh.”

“The truth hurts. What can I say? It’s only the flu, so don’t worry your little head about it, okay?”

“You just don’t like to see people being happy.”

“True enough. I wouldn’t surround myself with miserable bastards like you lot if I did. Except Toto. His outlook is as bright as your pasty skin.”

“And your thoughts are as dark as mine,” Toto adds merrily. “Yet somehow you gather people around you like a mother hen. Fate laughs at your attempts to push people away.”

“Yeah? Well fate can take a long walk off a short pier. Let’s not get the wrong idea here, I don’t hang around you for your optimism or company. You just make good food and are generous with your portion sizes. It’s purely a selfish, one way relationship.”

Toto just laughs and drains his drink. He isn’t wrong though. Somehow it’s me that holds this little group together. None of the others knew each other before me. I’m the common denominator. I guess that shows how desperate they all are if I’m the best option to spend time with.

“Tink say’s he’ll meet us at the house. He’s heading there with his brother,” Corgi says into the lull between banter. He has his phone in one hand and the cocktail pitcher in the other. “He expressly states that nobody is to cause trouble.”

“I wonder why he felt the need to specify that?” I say innocently. “At no point have I ever started a fight when Tink has invited us to these little gatherings.”

“You did draw a dick on that fancy painting when we were at his uncle’s BBQ. I’m pretty sure you spent most of his cousin’s wedding reception flirting with the bride.”

“Look, this is an invitation from little Po, and frankly, I’m not going to do anything to get on his bad side. I’ll be on my best behaviour. Scouts honour.”

“You were never in the scouts.”

“No. And from what I read in the news, they don’t have much honour, so it all works out in the end.”

“Touché.”

Previous – 2.

Next – 4.

Chapter 1. (Thorns of the Shadow: Blood, Blades, and Bacon)

18/12/202024/06/2023 ~ Matthew Roys ~ Leave a comment

It was three years until the apocalypse, not that anyone knew it yet. For the young man staring out the window of an isolated Scottish lodge it was boredom that was the biggest concern. He was perched on a broad staircase and stared up at the high window across the hall that revealed nothing but darkness. He knew there was nothing to see, but even the void was better than the picture of social awkwardness that surrounded him.

Outside of the large wooden building known as Aife’s Lodge, there were no signs of civilisation for miles, only the dark expanse of Abernethy Forest and the Scottish wilds. The lodge had once been a private manor house but now served as a homely hotel. Fitting with its remote location, it was the kind of place where people went to escape society completely.

The clouds parted just enough to reveal the moon through the window. It was just before midnight on New Year’s Eve and the few guests of Aife’s Lodge had forgone seclusion and gathered together in the main hall to celebrate. A stone fireplace dominated one wall while numerous mounted animals showcased the local fauna. Long dead deer and wildcats seemed almost alive in the flickering light. The guests mingled awkwardly in groups of two or three, the conversations gradually becoming less passive as the alcohol flowed.

“Why the hell are we stuck here?” he muttered. He wore a hoodie bearing the name of an obscure rock band who hadn’t been famous since before he had been born, and toyed idly with an array of silver rings that adorned each of his fingers “I should be back home, partying it up with friends and hot girls, not sitting here in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of anti-social old people and weirdos,” he continued. As he spoke he brushed dark hair from his eyes and tried to suppress a yawn. Crimson highlights ran through the carefully constructed mess of black. He was the picture of a rebel without a cause.

“Stop whining already, Kai,” said the girl on the opposite side of the step. KT Redthorn looked equally as bored as her brother, Kai, but she had always been more at peace with her own company. She was dressed similarly to her companion, her hair long and straight, ending at the small of her back, vivid blue streaked through it in contrast to the red of his. Her jewellery was kept to a minimum, and a few splashes of colour from a multitude of wristbands broke the monotony of black jeans, shirt and hair.

“Look, I don’t like it either but it’s one week. Aunt Susan hasn’t asked us to come up here in years.”

Kai sipped glumly from a glass of cheap cider as he surveyed the room. “She can’t imagine the amount of parties I’m missing out on because of her. ‘Tis the season to be blackout drunk while surrounded by pretty girls.”

“Every season is party season for you.” KT took a sip of her own drink, which was also cider but with enough blackcurrant cordial to drown out the bitter taste, then continued. “After all the money she’s given us over the years, we owe her a few weeks of our time every now and then.” Despite her words, she didn’t sound too happy about it either.

“Still doesn’t justify her timing. She’s rich though so she must have a pretty good inheritance for us. Maybe we should be kind to her. KT, use your female bond to get in her good books or something.”

“You’re a terrible person,” she said then sighed, staring glumly into her drink.

Kai noticed her expression and frowned. “You still beating yourself up about uni? It’s been months now. Forget about it.”

“Yeah, I know. There’s just nothing to distract me from it here. This should have been my first Christmas as a student in the big city and instead I’m sat here. I worked so damn hard to try and get into that veterinary degree and one bad day screwed me. One bad test and suddenly everything else I’ve ever done is now worthless.” She made a frustrated sound and downed her drink.

“That’s where you went wrong. You tried. You had hopes and dreams. Expect the worst and you can only ever be pleasantly surprised.”

KT shook her head. “That doesn’t work and you know it.” Her eyes glanced around to a large picture that had pride of place at the top of the staircase. Blue eyes stared down at them from a young face. If they didn’t know better, it could easily have been an image of KT herself. “Being here doesn’t help. Seeing her face everywhere is kinda unsettling.”

“Yeah, no kidding. For someone who died two decades ago, she could be your identical twin. Christ. Imagine there being two of you.” Kai frowned and looked away. “I never did like photos anyway. Not hung up like that. It always feels like they’re watching you. Judging you. Knowing they’re dead just makes it weirder.”

“You can’t imagine how awkward it is talking to Aunt Susan. It’s clear that she only sees her when she looks at me. It’s so sad.” KT muttered. Kai wasn’t listening to her though. His eyes were locked on one of the guests below.

It was a young female guest. She had blonde hair, blue eyes, red lips and two very defining features that instantly drew attention. Her low cut top allowed a fair view of these features while long legs led up to a very short denim skirt. A small love heart tattoo adorned her chest, rising up from the gap of her cleavage. Kai stared at her with a dumb grin on his face.

“Scratch my previous comments, this place just got good. Time to work my charm,” he smirked, rising up from his perch.

His sister shook her head. “You’re hopeless. A damn hopeless pervert. Women will be the death of you.”

“And a good death it’ll be,” he joked as he made his way down the stairs. Still shaking her head, KT put on the headphones that rested across her neck. Heavy guitar cut off the world around her.

Kai wove through the hall and stopped beside the girl, confidence radiating from his every feature.

“Hey,” he greeted with a friendly smile and a sparkle in his eyes. “I’ve not seen you around here. You just arrive?”

The girl nodded, locking eyes with him. She bit her lip slightly and played with her skirt.

“You in need of some company? I’ve been here a few days now so can show you the surroundings if you want.”

“Ya. I would like that,” answered the girl with a thick accent. Her eyes never strayed from Kai’s. They seemed to tug at him, pulling him closer.

Kai’s grin widened yet further. “Is that a Swedish accent?” The blonde nodded. “You’re a long way from home. You here all on your lonesome?”

“Ya. I am exploring the world. See new sights, meet new people, find new experiences,” she purred.

Kai coughed and fought to calm himself. He looked again and noticed that her eyes seemed more green now. It must have been a trick of the light, or maybe the alcohol was starting to kick in. He downed the rest of his drink and set the glass down on a table beside a basket of grapes. The woman skewed one with an overly long nail and held it up to Kai’s mouth. A heavy scent rose from her skin that seemed to muddle his thoughts. He took it in his teeth.

“It is getting hot in here,” the woman stated. “Come. Let us go outside.”

She smiled at him and took his hand in hers. She had the most beautiful hazelnut eyes. Or were they red? Kai couldn’t tell any longer. She led him to the door as he staggered clumsily after her. He couldn’t believe his luck.

They quickly eased open the door and slipped outside. The cold hit Kai like a physical blow despite his thick clothes. He suddenly realised how ill equipped the girl was for the Scottish winter, though she showed no sign of discomfort. Her hands were cold against his skin but they looked warm.

“Aren’t you cold?” he tried to ask but his words came out slurred. He didn’t think that he’d drank that much.

“No.” Her voice echoed hollowly and her accent seemed less pronounced.

Kai tried to pull away from her but the woman spun him around and planted a hard kiss on his lips. The feeling was nice but sent cold shivers down his spine. Her lips were as cold as her hands. He vaguely noticed that her breath didn’t mist in the air like his own.

The girl pushed him against a tree with a strength that contrasted with her slender frame. Her hands were all over his body. Each touch burned even though her skin was like ice. Kai was struggling to breath. He tried to move her back slightly but she slapped his hand away.

In the heat of activity she lifted her shirt until it hung around her neck like a scarf. Her hands slid under his shirt, her nails raking sharply across his back. Kai felt the skin break and welt, small trails of blood forming in the nails’ wake. He tried to move aside but was locked firmly in place.

He looked down at her face and suddenly tensed up. Her eyes were changing, growing darker, their colour indistinct. He’d known people’s eyes to dilate through bliss but never anything like this. Her pupils spread out like a drop of ink until her entire eyes were consumed with darkness.

Things were moving faster than his muddled mind could manage. Her hands moved lower down his body. In their transition from his shirt to his belt he saw that her nails had grown to resemble claws. He knew that this wasn’t right but his body wouldn’t obey his commands. He watched in horror as her lips parted and a snake’s forked tongue slid out.

He tried to scream, to fight, but his limbs felt numb. He should have been wide awake and roaring with energy, lust and fear flooding his body with adrenaline, but instead he could feel his strength seeping from him with every passing second. Every touch the girl made sucked the life from him. He could feel the energy bleeding out of him, draining him and leaving behind only a sour sensation.

In an instant she had sliced through his belt with one knife-like claw. She reached inside his trousers. Kai shuddered, his brain flickering in and out of consciousness.

There was a snap of a branch behind them. “Damn it Kai! You can’t just take a girl you’ve only just met into the forest to have your way with.”

He saw KT enter the clearing and freeze. The other girl whipped around at the intrusion, hissing like an animal. Without the woman’s attention on him, Kai could feel his thoughts drifting back into place.

“What the hell?” KT began, but the monstrous woman bounded at her and slammed a fist into her gut. The force of the blow threw her back into a tree several feet behind her. She hit it hard then slumped to the ground, coughing up a mouthful of blood. Faint music still played from her headphones. The sounds drifted hauntingly in the quiet of the night.

As though nothing had happened, the beast turned her attention back to Kai. He had tried to escape, dragging himself forward through the snow, but his strength was dangerously low and he had only made it a short distance. She pulled him around to face her then shoved him to the ground, climbing onto him to straddle his waist. The weight was like lead on his soul, contracting it and pulling it down into the abyss. He was struggling to even keep his eyes open regardless of the immediate danger. Everything grew dark. She grew more beautiful…

A bang roared through the forest, shattering the quiet like a hammer on ice. The woman screamed a monstrous scream that sounded more like a crazed bat than a human. Kai was vaguely aware of being showered in dark blood as his assailant’s right shoulder and breast blew away in an explosion of gore and bone. A white shard sliced across his cheek. Blood drenched him, running down his face to drip into his gasping mouth. Enough of his mind remained to make him gag at the burning taste.

The woman jumped away from Kai with astounding speed. He watched vacantly as the grievous wound knitted itself back together like a spider weaving a web at high speed. Then his eyes closed and his body became still as his consciousness finally surrendered…

“Kai!” KT shouted as she tried to pull herself to her feet using the tree as support. Her stomach was in agony but she forced it to the back of her mind as she took a determined step towards her brother.

The monster screeched again, this time in rage. It charged forward, sprinting on all fours like an animal. Another bang echoed out into the night as a cloud of blood erupted from the woman’s body. A new figure entered KT’s line of sight, his right arm held straight out, a pistol in his hand. More jarring cracks assaulted her ears as tainted blood cut crimson streaks through the snow.

The ensuing sound was almost more than KT’s ears could handle. She saw the man step into the clearing beside the tree she had hit. The monster screeched but he ignored it, instead bending down to pick up the discarded headphones. They were broken in half but KT’s phone still hung from the wire. The woman’s screech became a howl as it burst into a sprint, razored claws flashing in the moonlight.

“Watch out!” KT yelled. The man made no effort to raise his gun.

The hellish woman had closed the gap almost instantly. Without looking up, the man grabbed the phone and pulled the wire out. The background crackle of sound became a blaring guitar solo that seemed to fill the forest.

Claws lunged and the man grinned. He flowed around the attack with inhuman speed, slamming his head into the creature’s skull, using its own momentum against it. She staggered back then tried to slice at the man’s throat only to be blocked by the pistol. He span in time with the music, stamping a booted foot into the woman’s knee with a sickening crunch then firing a point blank shot at her face. Blood-slick teeth exploded out like a nailbomb. She screamed gutturally and hopped back with increasing panic.

KT watched wide eyed as leathery black wings ripped through the skin on the woman’s back and spread out around her like liquid shadows. The monster flexed its beautiful body as the wings shuddered then started to rise and fall. She shot into the sky and attempted to make her escape. Gouts of blood marked the passage of another volley of bullets. The winged creature faltered and crashed into a tree which she used it as a springboard, launching back into the air and out of sight. The man shrugged then tapped KT’s phone screen, killing the music. Silence flooded in like a tide.

KT tried to move to her brother but pain shot through her again. She fell face first to the ground. She lay there panting through the snow, tears in her eyes. Her hand reached out towards Kai. There was the sound footsteps and the crunch of snow.

“He’s fine,” came a deep, rough sounding voice. She turned her head slightly to see the gun wielding figure bent over Kai’s prone body. “Just sleeping,” the voice explained.

“Sleeping? But she… but he…Y-you shot her! What the hell is happening?” KT stammered, unable to get a single clear thought into her brain. Everything hurt.

“Would you believe this was all a dream? It would certainly make my job a lot easier,” continued the man, his voice taking on a lighter tone.

The girl stared blankly at the shadowy figure. He shrugged. “Didn’t think that would work. Right, let me think how to put this. This guy is asleep because he had his life-force drained by that creature. You might know it as a succubus. That means he just needs to sleep and he’ll be fine. She didn’t go far enough to do any real damage, if you catch my drift.”

KT stared at him in disbelief as a thousand thoughts fought for control of her mouth. Pain underpinned them all. “You want me to believe we were almost killed by a sex demon? That’s impossible! My drink has been spiked and all of this is a bad drug trip.”

“Of course. This was all a figment of your imagination. Problem solved. My work here is done.”

KT tried to focus on the man as he spoke. He was tall and well-built from what she could see of his body. He wore a hardened leather jacket and dark trousers, both of which were covered in straps and pockets. A dark green cloak draped him from his shoulders to his knees and sturdy leather boots covered his feet. Black fingerless gloves and long sleeves hid his arms. His face was angular and weatherworn, handsome in a rugged kind of way. His golden blond hair was tied into a loose ponytail. Over his shoulder she could see what looked like a guitar case hung across his back.

It was too dark to make out any extra detail. What she could make out was becoming harder to focus on as her vision blurred. Anything further than the man’s face was an unintelligible smear.

KT coughed up more blood as a sudden spasm wracked her body. She heard the man rush to her side. He rolled her onto her back then she felt his hands on her stomach. She struggled to open her eyes through the pain but managed on her second attempt.

A look of surprise flitted across his face as he stared down at KT. It almost seemed like he was frozen in time for a moment until he blinked and visibly shook himself. His face became a blank mask and concentration filled his eyes.

“Lie still,” he commanded. He sounded shaken but he quickly composed himself. Whether it was his voice or her own pain, she felt impelled to obey. He moved her limbs gently and straightened her body out. “It’s just severe bruising, some internal ruptures. Nothing too bad.” She gave him an incredulous look through the pain. Internal rupture was not good in anyone’s book.

He dug through one of his many pockets until he pulled out a small blue pill. “Here, swallow this. It’ll ease the pain.”

Warnings of not accepting tablets from strangers swam through her mind. She had no idea who he was, what his motives were or what the hell was happening. She tried to turn her head away to refuse the pill but a sudden jolt of pain made her cry out. The man sighed then grabbed her head, forced open her mouth and slid the pill between her lips. KT tried to fight but the man kept her firmly pinned down. A few seconds passed. Numbness began to spread across her stomach.

“You’ll start to feel drowsy now,” he informed her. “I’m going to try and sort you out but I need you to stay awake. Always remember, it’s when we don’t feel pain that we’re most vulnerable to death. Do you understand?”

She nodded, unable to prevent a shiver running through her.

“What’s your name?” he asked calmly, his tone becoming casual, friendly.

KT stared up at him. His relaxed posture and soft voice couldn’t disguise his threatening presence. She felt short of breath and afraid but almost against her will the words started to spill out clumsily. “Catherine Redthorn. Katie for short. Just the two letters, K and T. Why use nine letters when two works just fine,” she babbled. She was becoming delirious.

“That’s good,” he soothed. He pulled her shirt up slightly and placed his palms against her now purple skin. They began to glow faintly with a pale blue light. She watched blearily as the bruised skin seemed to soothe itself, the dark colours fading, becoming paler. The tension inside her gut grew looser, more natural.

KT’s mind felt clearer by the second. “Who’re you?” she asked. “What happened?”

The man hesitated for a moment. “Like I said, your brother was drawn in by a succubus. She gave you a good beating and took all of his energy before fleeing. Strange but true.” He spoke matter-of-factly, as though this kind of thing happened every day.

“That’s not right. I’ve read about them. If succubi are real then they’re supposed to target people who’re asleep.”

“Try telling her that,” commented the man with a slight grin. KT didn’t look in a joking mood so he returned to a stern look. “Think of it this way: times have changed. When the prey changes, so must the predator. Society is more…open with sexuality now so there is less need for stealth. Hmm, an example of this change is the way she looked. That appearance a few hundred years ago would have been a no go. Men back then preferred the more petite figure while men now like more…exaggerated features. In reality they look more like giant bats than humans. It’s an individual’s perception that gives them a more pleasing form. Are you following?”

“I-I think so,” KT replied shakily. Her shattered thoughts were quickly rebuilding themselves. “What about my first question?” she pressed, her confidence and strength returning to her.

He sighed. “The name’s Déaþscúa.”

“Death-shoo-a?” KT repeated, rolling the strange word across her tongue.

“Yeah. Lots of funny letters and accents. It’s a long story.” He offered her his hand and she took it.

With his help KT struggled to her feet. She lifted her shirt to examine the wound but nothing remained other than a large red mark as though she had been slapped. Tentatively she prodded the skin and winced slightly after realising it still felt tender. Her legs shook but she willed herself to stand tall. Subconsciously she took on a fighting stance.

“How did you do that?”

“Questions, questions,” the man said agitatedly. “Make yourself useful and help me get your brother back inside. Exposure to this cold won’t help him recover.”

Each grabbed one of Kai’s arms and hoisted him up. The man took most of his weight as they made their way back toward the lodge. KT checked her watch. 12:15. Lights were still visible within and sounds seeped dully through the walls.

“You’ll have to take him from here,” Déaþscúa told her. “If anyone sees you just say he drank too much. He’ll wake up sometime late in the day feeling groggy but will otherwise be fine.” He positioned Kai fully onto KT then turned to leave. Without looking back he spoke again. “Some parting advice. Don’t go out again at night. Don’t go out in the day alone. It’s a dangerous world for the unwary, especially at the moment. Stick to that and you’ll be fine.”

Then he was gone, his shadowy form melding into the darkness between the trees. She stared after him but all evidence of his presence had vanished with him. Stood there beside the lodge, bathed in light and surrounded by the sound of merriment, KT could almost believe it had all been just a strange dream.

up at high window that revealed nothing but darkness. He knew there was nothing to see, but even the void was better than the picture of social awkwardness that surrounded him. Outside of the large wooden building known as Aife’s Lodge, there were no signs of civilisation for miles, only the dark expanse of Abernethy Forest and the Scottish wilds. The lodge had once been a private manor house but now served as a homely hotel. Fitting with its remote location, it was the kind of place where people went to escape society completely.

“I should be back home, partying it up with friends and hot girls, not sitting here in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of anti-social old people and weirdoes.” The young man continued. As he spoke he brushed dark hair from his eyes and tried to suppress a yawn. Crimson highlights ran through the carefully constructed mess of black. He was the picture of a rebel without a cause.