Hello there.
Let me be the first to yell you that you're about to embark on a horribly gruesome little tale. Or, rather, I hope it will be a horribly gruesome little tale, this will be my first attempt at horror. I can, however, say with certainty that things will be horribly confusing at times, and at others they will be perfectly clear.
There may be a sexual situation or two in the future, and those may or may not be of the homosexual persuasion and involve aliens. You can bet there will be a lot of cursing, and screaming, and maybe even some character death along the way. Scratch that, there will be a good deal of character death along the way. Anyone who takes offense to the aforementioned things I would suggest gets the fuck out of Dodge. This will be the first and only warning you get, I advise you heed it. The same goes for the...
BULK DISCLAIMER:
I own nothing except the computer on which I typed this. All characters are copyright the respective owners. All songs mentioned or used are copyright the bands and musicians that produced them. Notes on if and when a song is used will appear in the footer. I make no claim to be connected to the Associated Press; any chapters claiming to be connected to them or written by them is done so only for the sake of fiction. All events depicted herein are fictional, and should be treated as such.
I am but a humble high school Freshman, and make no money by writing this.
ALSO:
A huge, heartfelt thank you to Ox, Anon (May Sparrow), and Moe (MissDomaYuset) for their help in BetaReading this chapter! You all rock!
Now, without farther hullabaloo, let's get this show on the road!
Prologue: Wherein The Star Makes His Appearance and Subsequent Exit
I'm shaking. I'm shaking like a leaf. It's worse than a leaf. It's more like a fan that's got a screw loose.
I clutch the metal in my hand. It's way too heavy to be what I know it is. Though, that can be said for a lot of things, right now. My feet are way too heavy to belong to me and I'm my hands themselves feel like they are made of led. Maybe I've gone to Jupiter and gravity's eight time stronger. That makes a lot more sense than my limbs just randomly being heavy.
Though, in retrospect, it's not very random. It's been a long time coming. At least, I think it has. How did this even all start? How did I wind up here?
I spin around quickly as I catch a glimpse of something moving in my peripheral vision. But, no. There's nothing there.
So, what am I so afraid of, again? What am I doing in the middle of a forest, clutching a metallic object that I can't remember buying nor loading nor carrying around with me? I'd be happy with an answer to either of those questions.
Another quick movement out of the corner of my eye. I do a quarter spin to meet whatever is creating the motion. Again, there's nothing more.
The metal in my hand is getting heavier as time drags on. Just like my limbs. I really have to be on Jupiter. That makes sense, doesn't it? Yeah, it does. I'd be positive that's where I was if I wasn't so positive that the planet was a giant ball of gas. Though, even that bit of knowledge is fleeting in it's reality. I was so certain of it just a moment ago. What is going on?
I go through a quick mental list of the questions I have presently before I loose them. I can't remember where or who I learned this trick from, but something, maybe just blind intuition, maybe a collection of memories at the frayed edges of my conscious mind, tells me it's always worked in the past.
One, where am I? Two, how did I get here? Three, what am I doing where I am? Four, why am I shaking like this? Five, what is this thing I keep seeing out of the corner of my eye?
Really, that last question is the most pressing. If this impossibly tall shadow that I can only seem to catch out of the corner of my eye is someone dangerous, I'd really like to know. Something in the back of my mind tells me that it's dangerous and them some. I ponder how this person could possibly be as dangerous to me as my brain insists it is without knowing anything about it.
Some sort of my own knowledge screams at me to keep alert. And I try. I really do try, but now my eyelids feel like they're on Jupiter and my hand with the metallic weapon in it has dropped to my side. I'm still shaking, and the only thing that keeps me from falling asleep is a violent cough that suddenly wracks through my body.
My lungs contract and sputter and shake like I'm drowning in air. I'm vaguely aware that I go crashing towards the forest floor, but I don't really care. I can't feel anything, not really. Yes, it's vaguely uncomfortable as my forehead, chin and nose all hit the dead brush of the floor at the same time. Yes, it's slightly concerning that the left lens on my glasses shatters on impact. I'm still coughing. Though, it's really more of a convulsion while gasping for breath.
Am I epileptic? I mentally make that question number seven. Or should it be six? What were the other four questions I had?
I continue writing on the forest floor. Eventually my write turns into a wretch and I loose the contents of my stomach. Thankfully, I'm able to turn onto my side and beforehand. It's mostly bile, from what I can smell through the salty, coperish fluid that's blocking my nasal cavity. I must not have eaten in a while from the sheer lack of food content that I can make out in the darkness. I continue to hack and sputter violently. It's getting hard to breath. Did I get bit by something? Am I allergic to mosquitoes? I should be horrified.
But, horror is absent. I don't have anything to be afraid of. Well, save for confusion. For some reason, the idea that I might be dieing doesn't bother me, not in the slightest.
But, it should be. In an attempt to make myself seem more, I shove the thought away. I don't have anyone to impress, do I? How could I? There's no one around me, and, the last time I checked, there aren't any voices in my head.
…
Nope. No voices. Just little old me up in my noggin. Now I'm talking to myself. This I can do without. I don't need to be going insane. I just need to gain composure and get out of this forest, away from the non-contents of my stomach, and, probably, to an epi-pen of some sort. I'm not afraid of dieing, or, at least, I don't seem to be, but, I'd really rather avoid my own mortality, if possible. Why, if I was allergic to something would I not bring an epi-pen? Why would I go out into the forest in the first place?
I can't manage to look up at the sky to see where the moon is in the sky, but, judging by the way the light is hitting the pine trees, I feel safe placing my bet squarely around three or four am. What the hell am I doing out in the forest at four am?
I manage to calm my lungs down a bit my ears turn into a soft rustling sound off in the distance. The shakes that had just started to dissipate return with a vengeance. Whatever is making that rustling is obviously something my body knows. Or, at least, something it thinks it knows. The idea that, right now, this could very well be a hallucination hits me, but I shake it off, literally. Even if this is a hallucination, I can still die. I faintly remember a saying from a commercial for a horror movie running recently, or, maybe, it wasn't so recently, that said something along the lines of 'if you die in a dream, you die for real'. I don't know if I believe that or not, but I'll be damned if I'm going to find out if it's true.
Suddenly, I'm on all fours and forcing myself back up against Jupiter's gravity. I suddenly don't care if I weigh eight times what I should. This must be an adrenalin rush feels like. Though, it would be nice to know who has driven my body into fight-or-flight. I catch tinges of someone rustling in the brush and immediately turn toward the sound.
My eyes catch sight of the shadow for a fraction of a second. I want to see what it is, but I can't because I'm too busy lifting the weapon, aiming haphazardly, and pulling the trigger. Then I'm cocking the weapon again and firing again and again and again and again until I've burned through six bullets. I continue the action of cocking and pulling the trigger, even though nothing will come of it. I can't tell if I shot whoever I was trying to shoot, or even begin to evaluate if they deserved to die; my eyes are shut too tightly.
Why the hell do I have a gun, in the first place? Why was I so intent on shooting whoever it was that I may have just shot, and why can't I open my eyes?
Another rustle and I suddenly can't breath. My lungs are constricting and I can't breath and god does it hurt. Why does it hurt so much? It feels like my lungs are trying to collapse in on themselves. That sound. That's why is happening. That's what's causing all of this. Oh god.
After what feels like an eternity I manage to pry my eyes open. But, what was keeping them closed? Am I just tired? While I'm asking mostly rhetorical questions, what the hell am I doing on Jupiter, in the first place? Wait, I'm not really on Jupiter, am I? Wasn't that just an analogy? God, nothing makes sense anymore.
I turn toward the sound and throw myself back to the forest floor.
Oh my God. What is that?
What is that?
It's impossibly tall and it's looking at me and it's clad in black and it can't be looking at me but it is. Oh my God no no no no! Make it look away! Make it look away! Please God, make it look away!
It walks forward and I can't scoot back. Oh God no. This is why I had a gun. Somehow I know that. But I still don't know anything else. That's not important. What is important is that I protect myself from this Whatever-It-Is. I scramble for my gun but it isn't there. Where did it go? I need it. I need to shoot this thing. Oh my God no. No. It comes a little closer and it gets harder to breath. It feels like something is strangling me. Nothing is strangling me but oh God. Please God no! I know I'm not a religious person, but I'm praying. I'm begging. And this thing just comes closer.
It's not even walking it's floating. But it isn't. It's gliding, somehow. I try to look away, but I can't. Oh God. I'm not afraid of dieing, but I'm horrified of this thing. I don't want any answers anymore, I just want to be away from this thing. Make it stop. Please.
Please make it stop.
I try to find my gun again but my hand and my eyes barely move. I don't want to shoot it anymore; I want to shoot myself. I want to end this. I don't want to look at this thing. God no. I just want to end it.
The Whatever-It-Is slides closer and tilts it's head. I think that's a head. I don't even know. I can't breath now. Not at all. It hurts and I don't even want to breath I just want to end this and it's looking at me but it isn't but it might be looking through me. Yeah that's what it's doing it's looking through me and oh God I don't want to be here I want to go... I don't even know where just anywhere but here please.
Two long, black tendrils jut out from this thing's side like it's opening It's arms out to me. I get up (oh God no) and walk (stop this please God) froward to It (no nononononono!) and It takes me (NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO) into It's arms (OH GOD NO NO NO OH GOD NO IT'S INSIDE OF ME ISN'T IT NO NO NO NO NO NO NO PLEASE GOD NO).
I feel the two tendrils It held (GOD NO NO THIS ISN'T HAPPENING) out to me close around me and all of the fear melts away. I feel a vague burning down both of my wrists, but I don't care. It's over. I lost. This thing might be smiling at me. I'd like to see that. I look up to It's not-face.
Suddenly, black tendrils shout out and invade my mouth and my eyes and my ears. Oh God it hurts. I don't feel safe anymore. I'm horrified and it burns more than anything I've ever felt in my entire life. It feels like... Like It's devouring my everything and my heart and my brain and my mind and It's replacing everything with blackness and I can't deal with this. I just want to die please let me die. Then something snaps inside my skull and OH MY GOD WHAT IS HAPPENING NO MORE PLEASE GOD WHAT IS THIS NO NO NO NO NO. FUCK NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO PLEASE NO NO NO END IT END IT END IT NO PLEASE OH MY GOD.
My prayers aren't (GOD NO NO TOO MUCH LET ME DIE) answered. They will (NO NO NO PLEASE GOD NO) never be answered. The tendril (AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH) wiggles around inside me every so often, like it's getting deeper. And I stay like this forever. Screaming inside my head, begging for mercy. Knowing it will never come. Knowing (OH GOD NO NO PLEASE JUST LET ME DIE!) this mind devouring pain will be all I ever feel. And that I can't fight.
I stay like this for forever.
But then, the tentacle retracts (FUCK THIS HURTS) and It backs away. It's still tilting It's head to the side. I'm about to thank God but then, for the first time, I'm aware of the fact that I can't actually see anymore. That I'm blind on the forest floor but I can still see It. How? No! Please! I can see It smile even though It can't smile and I can feel myself dieing and I wonder how long I was really with this thing but that doesn't matter. Darkness seems to stream from this not image I'm seeing and it crowds me. I can't think. I have no conscious though. I shouldn't. I don't. I can't
Somehow, I hear crunching leafs and a horrified gasp and a scream but it doesn't matter because I'm dead and I can't even think. Even though I can't think, I do have one thought before I slip into the darkness: 'Who the hell am I, anyway?'
Welp, that's that, then.
I suppose I'm really doing this. That being the case, stay tuned for the next chapter, it should be up later today.
By the way, R&R! Every review I get gives me a little bit of your soul. Also: any random ideas you may have! I'm not saying I'll work them in, but it's always fun to see people's theories on what's going to happen~