《Estranged God of Fiction》 Prologue Reality is what everyone considers a harsh environment. There is no one who is exempt, and so each day would be filled with constant noise and activity. Some will say, ''That''s how it goes.'', others would complain, ''It''s so unfair''. Yet no one can really argue againstthem, as these common statements ring true, whether they like it or not. *Honk! Honk!* *Beep! Beep! Beep!* *Honk!!* One such city is filled with these examples. No pavement is scarce, for every area is crowded. The continuous beeping and honking of horns from vehicles, the smell of putrid gas and smog stung clear in the air. There is no sunlight, and it isn''t a clear day either. Sky full of clouds and coloured gray, but not a single drop of rain. Seemingly impressive buildings and skyscrapers are fully erect and would have stood out, but that can be said for every other place in the world, and so the local populace, even tourists, ignored them. It would have been lively with all the noise, but chattering is not there. No one is conversing with one other person, everyone is fending for themselves. Litter and wastes of trash is present everywhere, but no one is volunteering to pick them up, only those intended for such type of work. Beggars lay rugged and dirtyon the sidewalks asking for a spare of change from anyone''s pockets, yet no one responds totheir small plead. Yes, this is a typical place on earth, not really as common as every other place but it''s still up there. But no one truly cares. No one truly cares for anythingotherthan themselves, maybe even some friends or loved ones, but other than that? Nothing. Reality does not expect anyone to be a hero or some sort of justice cop, but a part of the working cogs of society. One must work and bleed, lest they wish to starve and die on their own. No one should expect tofulfill their dreams, Reality does not existfor such purposes.
. .. ... *Tick* ... .. . *Tock* . .. ... *Tick* ... .. . *Tock* . .. ... The room is silent, only the ticking of a mechanical clock is present. *Tick* The walls of cement are painted white, but it seems so gray with how dim the lighting is. *Tock* The only source of illuminationpresent is a lightbulb hanging in the middle of the ceiling, and the glowing screen of a machine, but even then it isweak. *Tick* There is no entry way for air and oxygen, not even a hint of sunlight, nothing buta single wooden door, locked from the outside, can possibly allow such a thing. *Tock* Balled up pieces of paper litter the area around a small basket, which is already filled to the brim with trash. It''s not a room one would have stayed in for acouple of hours, not even for a few minutes, almost no sign of lifecan be detected within the vicinity... Almost. *Tick* *Tock* *Tick* *Tock* *Ti- "SHUT UP!" Suddenly, a shout had rang across. The only person present would have jumped in suprise, if it wasn''t him who was shouting. The person sighed, his voice tired and coarse sounding. "...It seems I''m getting more crazierthan a senile old war vet back fromthe 1900''s, I''m surprised I''m still not locked up in a mental ward full of other weirdos more weirder than me..." He sighed again, this time sounding more exasperated. "Why am I doing this again? Oh right, cause I''m an idiot.." He was slumped in a simple chair, his arms crossed and flaton top of a wooden desk, filled with nothing buta cheap-looking laptop, a few pens and pencils, a stack of paper, and a thick looking book which was opened up. "Why am I talking out loud? Because, again, me an idiot." One arm was raised and was scratching the back of his head, rustling mochacoloured hair, while the other was soundly tapping wood. This person, isnotwhat one would consider the ideal working cog, because one would expect it to be doing so for the sake of aiding one''s financial life, or "feeding the kids", or "sendingchecks to some chickthat has his kids, which she feeds, every sunday afternoon". This ''person'', however, is doing so for the sake of, in the eyes of the common folk, nothing. So why is that? Said person is now working on his laptop, with an emotionless mask on his face. Audible typing now conjoining with the sounds of constant ticking. ''Anyhow, I promised my readers to post this between thursdayand next monday, with next monday being today.'' Even if this one was not doing so for the sake of money, he was not doing it for the sake of enjoyment, yet he still works, still persists, on doing his own selfmade job. No one would expect a person like him to survive, let alone pay his taxes, but he manages to do so anyways. In fact, he actually does have a job, a paying job, which has been helping him hold on to his own financial problems, and allowed him to dowhat he is currently doing. His salary isn''t big, but it is slightly more paying than minimum wage. Reality expects everyone to work,there will be no exceptions to the rule. The young man''s tongue clicked, groaning every few seconds. ''This part was supposed to be easy to translate! I can''t seem to get this right.'' His gaze fell towards the piece of thickliterature, eyes narrowing with hints of slight, sarcastic hatred. ''Curse you stupid book, you and your stupidly hard to understand transcript.'' He stoodstill in place, glaring at his posession, before looking away, sighing once more. ''I wish I could travel back in time, so I couldbeat the ever-living crap out of old me... why did I make all of this in the first place??'' He banged his head on the desk rather strongly. A weak mutterof''ouch'' escaped his lips. ''Do I even have to ask myself that? I. Am. An. Idiot.'' Hecontinued banging his head on the woodenfurniture, this time with lesser force. He did not want to risk having aconcussion at this time of the day.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. The mancurrently resides in a city full of disturbance and pollution, so when he first arrived here he made sure to rent an apartment secluded from civilization and the noise that it carried. Hewas rather thankful for himself that he found one, he was also especially thankful to the landlord -which he expected to be a crazy alcoholic or some lunatic drug lord, considering how he perceivedthe entire state of the city- who was surprisingly a very kind and caring old lady, who would spend her time visiting his place every now and then. God knows where he would have ended up in if he wasn''t so lucky back then. ''Welp, time to finish this I guess.'' He glanced again at the exposed content of the book, and resumed typing at the portable computer, constantly shifting his eyesfrom one to the other. ''Her hands, now imbued with the shifting powers of the faerie, was gently placed onthe Caretaker''s wounded chest, blood and tissue slowly closing. It is nature''s divine gift to the brides of the forest, the blessing of one of the Thirteen Gods, Chrysante. One who isgranted this power can manifest [Faith Healing], a magic strong enough to restore a body''s own cells, it can achieve efficiency3 times faster than trollregeneration. If the user is provoked, one can manifest [Entangling Snare], magic capable ofensnaring evenTier VII monsters.....'' *Tick* It was now evident that he was completely immersed in his work, his eyes read while his hands translate, almost nothingcan ever stop his absolute concentration *Tock* This is Maxi Seymour, a person born from matrimony, a self sufficient working cog of society. He is somewhat famous for what he does in the large and vast space of the Internet... which is creating web fiction. *Tick* He first accepted his slowly growing popularity with avid fantasy readers and casual ones with a grain of salt, *ahem*, an entire ocean. But he grew accustomed to that fact, and now he works to satisfty his fans, no matter how aggravating it is to him. *Tock* Yet even still, he continues doing his ''hobby'', not for hisown sake, possibly nothing even. But one clear fact is etchedin his mind. He does it forpeople he has no connection to, people who are complete strangers to him, because he can. *Tick* And so, he continues to work, not even hearing the sounds of his own typing, nor the sounds of his clock''s ticking. *Tock*
. .. ... *Tick* ... .. . *Tock* . .. ... *Tic- A paper ball struck the only source of sound in the room, but does not interrupt the mechanism''s duty. *Tock* *Tick* *Tock* The man named Maxi, sighed again, for seemingly the nth time. *Tick* "Guh, my brain hurts. I need medical assistance..." *Tock* *Ding* *Dong* *Ding* He glanced at the clock''s hands,allpointing to twelve. "Huh, what do you know? I finished on time I guess?" He avertedhis eyes from the large form of the clock on the room and gazed at the words present on the screen of the laptop. ''Volume 6 - Chapter 24, I forgot how much I''ve typed.'' His face, no matter how blank it looks, is visibly tired. Eyes are slightly baggy, fingers are slightly cramped from excessive use, but not so much as compared to when he first starting typing, he couldn''t hold objects or do even menial tasks involving his hands for an hour during one time. He startedclosing all the open applications in his laptop before shutting it down. Realizing how truly tired he must have been, he got up from his desk and started to stretch so much that it would have broke his back. He thanks his late mother for putting him through all those yoga class, for that wasn''t the case at all. Yawning loudly, he started heading out for the door. ''I should get back to bed I guess, I need so much sleep.'' Before being able to touch the doorknob, a tired realization struck his mind. ''Oh yeah...book.'' He moved from the doorway and started to go back to his deck. He picked up his book with a slight huff, and strode off again towards the only exit. But not before turning off the lights.
After closing the door behind him, he had his one arm clutching the thick piece of literature, before walking across the small and familiar hallway. It wasn''t much, and unlike his ''office'', there is no lighting installed, so it was quite dark. But since it was only narrow, he only had to go forward with his free hand in front as guidance until he got to the other end. He can install one anytime if he wants to, but meh... Once he reached his destination, he opened the door and greeted the sight in front of him. It was slightly larger than his ''office'', which was still small. But since his apartment was only meant to accommodate one person, it was enough for him. On the left side was his simple kitchen/living room, on the right was his bed, In front was the entrance to the apartment, which was also dubbed "Portal to the outside world". All in all it was very cramped. He wanted to ask the old lady why a bedroom wasn''t included for more space, but with how cheap the rent is, his small complaints were tossed right out the window. He still thought it to be weird though, why have a hallway when there is not much room to occupy, why not directly connect his office with this one? Heck, even the office itself has more space to occupy... Well at least this room has two lights in itso it was fairly bright... yay? But he wasn''t here to observehis oh so ''spacious'' room, he was here to go to bed and sleep. And so he did just that, the book he kept carrying finally stored on the drawers of his bedside table. All the lights are finally turned off, all that''s left is the illuminating light of the moon emanating from the window. Last but not least, he broke out a sigh once more, the last one for today after all the stress from earlier. Then when tomorrow comes, it''s back to same old work. He silently chuckled, it''s always been the same routine for him for the last couple of years now. Wake up. Shower. Eat. Go to work. Go home. Do ''hobby''. Sleep. Andthen start over.... He never imagined what life would really be like when he was a kid. He always had a knack to say stuff and proclaim to do something impossible, like be king of the amazonor something incredibly stupid... when he thought about it, a small tinge of sadness came upon him.. Gone were the days of being the innocent child, and all the cherished moments of childhood.. All that''s left is the by-product of what he once was... An adult who works for a living, how sad. It wasn''t how he pictured it to be. There was no sort of canvas for anyone''s dreams, it was either do or don''t. If you don''t pay attention enough, every possiblechance given to you would be lost. Time doesn''t wait for anyone, you''d be left out and forgotten if you go too slow. Go too fast and you''ll forget yourself. Go steady and nothing will happen. Either three bear the same results... You''re not truly happy, you won''t fulfill anything absolute and expect it to stick with you permanently. You can hold your greatest happiness in the palm of your hands for a few seconds, and then after that you lose it, and you''ll never ever get it back again. Every single thing present in the world is only momentary, whether they would be good or bad, they don''t existforever. Such as the naivety he had wished to get back. He wanted to dream again, wanted to fantasize. ''Too bad for me, I have to be ''responsible'' now.'' Well, at least what he currently does allows him to recreate those moments, even if ithad only given themsmall remnants of satisfaction to him. It''s what he does best, and that''s fine by him. He glanced at the drawer where the book was kept, reminiscing all of those years of writing. It felt good, no matter how fake it all seemed to him. A gift, that was what that book was originally. It was empty at first, but then he started writing about all the crazy things he fantasized about, all of his imagination dumped on its every page. Man was he such a fantasy geek. It''s not like he isn''t right now, but he certainly wasn''t shouting "For the Horde!"off the top of his lungs out on public anymore, war gear and all of that. His tastes in art and literaturewasn''t really diverse, so long as it''s based off of fantasy, he could spend some, if not most of his time enjoyingit. A simple man he is. And now he gave all of his input abouthis favorite genre and took like what, 3-4years making it? That pretty much gauges how much hereallyloved fantasy works. Did he regret doing it? Probably, but if he hadn''t done it, he would have been worse off by now. He realized how much he had been thinking once he noticed that he had been subconsciously staring at the ceiling for so long. Enough was enough for him, lest he wishes to face punishment from his boss for being late... again. And so, he let out a small breath of air, relaxed his body, and slowly closed his eyes. ''I wonder if I''ll dream? I''d probably forget it first thing in the morning.'' Again, he never realized how tired he actually felt, for the moment his vision became obscure, his consciousness faded almost as quickly as well. The room was silent, and at present, no ticking is heard.
Silence reigned supreme, for so long did the young man sleep. Weak snores escape his lips, his chest slowly rising and falling. A peaceful ambience is all that is present, everything else but the slumbering form of Maxi seems frozen in place. Yet even so, a scene such as this will only last for so long. On the left side of the bed, a small and thin tendril, obscured from color,slowly emerged from the ground. It rose farther and farther, becoming more longer in length, until it reached the height of the ceiling. For a moment it stayed still, it''s form seemingly gazing upon thefigure of the bed''s only occupant. Soon after, similar tendrils emerged. All of them surrounding the young man. "¨B???s?? ''pl?o? s??? ?o? ?u??? ?ou s? ''?sod?nd ????? ?no?" An ominous chorus of filtered voices so unrecognizable invaded the silence, it drowned out the stillness of the atmosphere, the room now looking more dark and concealed to anyone''s eyes. A black hole like substance appeared from beneath Maxi''s body, the surface of the bed itself no longer visible. The tendrils soon wrapped around him, thepitch black constructs of unknown origin pulling him away. It looked as if he was sinking, the actions of the tendrilslooked impossible, the manifestations themselves were not bound by the laws of physics, no scientific explanation can be given for such an occurence. This, however unfeasible, was a clear exemption from the universal ordinancedeclared by Reality, it has not expected this to happen. "¨B???su??? ?no? ??u???o? u?? ?? ?ou pu? ''l?????? pu??? ?no? ?o? [?s???u??] ??do?d ??? ??n?o?d o? p?l??n??s ???? ?? ''s???? ?o?" Maxi''s body now started to gradually fade, submerging in the cold stone tiles of his apartment floor. "¨Bp?u?????u? ?q ?ou ll??s ??q?nls ?no? ¨B?uo ?u???p ''p??nss? ?s??" Reality attemptedthe prevention of this man''s kidnapping. But no results bear fruit to success, nor was a single progress made. A working cog of society has soon become fictional, for he was no more, and no trace of his ownexistence lingered within Reality''s fabrics. He was truly gone. Silence had once again taken over, this time remaining absolute.
Out of the corner of the room, a soft luminous glow had shone from within the drawers of where the book was kept.The whizzing of pages being flipped were audibly heard, before the soundhad vanished immediately, along with the mysterious illumination of light. The object in question? Gone, likethe last victim of unexplainable circumstances.
-End- Mistakes may have beenmade, English isnot my first language. Thank you for reading. As an inexperienced author, I hope you leave me some sort of criticism so I can better myself at writing. *Salute* Chapter 1 Reality is a realm [manifested] by possibilities and facts. It is composed of countless objects and life forms [manifested]by Truth, Its universal colonyruled by logical reasoning and rational thinking. The average occupant of Reality will blindly follow the statement: "This is true, so therefore it is valid. This is false, so therefore, it is invalid.". As simple as that. Reality does not give abode to fictitous things or one''s imaginations, for itis meant not for that intended purpose. The most important componentof Reality, Truth, can also be said to mimica prison that holds all of these together. If a form of [manifestation] does not belong to this compound, then it is [manifested] by False. [Manifest] is the term for the evidence of creation. It is the pinnacle of foundation for everything that has and ever existed. Without this paricular essence, nothing would ever be made and validated, thus, all of would simply be erased and marked as ''non-existent'', for there is nothing to prove that they were ever [manifested]. [Manifest] does not just simply apply to Reality, it can also be utilized for Fantasy. Fantasy is a realm [manifested] by impossibilities and fiction. Reality itself is limited, and only observes what is [manifested] by Truth, and ignores everything else that is [manifested] by False. If Truth houses all [manifestations] within the realm of Reality, then False tolls for the [manifestations] within the realm of Fantasy. And unlike Reality, Fantasy does not limit itself, an infinite array ofany sort of creation, is welcomedby it. Rules here are considered superficial, but they can be made beforehand, since only a creationwithin Reality is actually capable of doing so. There areno restrictions to enter Fantasy, butonly those that are part of Reality cannot cross over. Because both are exact opposites, the two cannot meet, and therefore cannot interfere against each other''s work.However, they are capable of doing so indirectly. Even within Reality, its occupants are capable of using their potent minds to [manifest] lies. Once [manifested], they are automatically assigned to False''s gate, after passing through Truth''s cells. This is howFantasy continues to ''exist'', even if there is no existing methodto validatephysicalevidence for its [manifestation], Reality makes it so thatthere would have been verifiablerecords and written files that storedsmall ouncesof its proof of [manifestation], to be transferred over the boundaries of Truth, in order to be [manifested] by False itself. That washow the system has always worked, and Reality wasawareit, for it has existed longer than Fantasy. However, it did not expect a malfunction to ever occur. All because of one, single event. A working cog was missing, dissapeared without a trace. It was almost instant, it concluded, and it had confused its rationalmind. Because the strange phenomenon itself, was impossible, and therefore was ruled out beyond Reality''s own capabilities. The kidnapped victim, a young man, was dragged, forced out of Truth''s prison, and had been reconstructed to [manifest] over False''s dominion, possibly even into the realm of Fantasy. Reality is a powerful entity, but its vast and tremendouscapacity is restricted to everything but its own realm, it could not do anything but be a witness to its own incompetency. Its ''eyes''cannot reach farther than what is beyond False, for its purpose is only intended for what it is best for, and that is to supervise and cooperate with Truth. Itwas even baffled by how it had happened, the kidnapper itself, with no known identity, was made of a strange molecular structure of unknown materialthat no amount of science -discovered or not-can ever explain. It. Was. Impossible. Not only that, but the consequences of such actions were nigh unexplainable as well. There was absolutely no found evidence of him actually existing, it was as if he was never actually part of Reality''s fabricated mechanismat all. All of the victim''s memories, moments, cirumstances and actions, had all been lost, maybe permanentlyso. Not even his beloved friends, relatives, or even his acquaintaince whom had given him a home to live in, had ever noticed at all. They, along with the rest of Reality''s residence, continued to move, continued to flow amongst the rivers of time, without no signs of ever being interrupted. Reality can only hope that the person''s fate is to be remained safe and unharmed. It was funny though, Reality thought, for it''s ''belief'' was that everything must stay in place, and do what it is meant to do. There would be no fake motivation, nor wasted thinking. If there wasanother possible conclusion that would reapbetter benefits, then that would be immediately preferred overany other answer. Now, it was using the term ''hope'', something thatdidn''t sit right with it. And yet, that was the only thing Reality wastruly capable of doing, that wasthe ''conclusion'' it had reached. Reality sighed, ''hopefully'' nothing else will hap- . .. ... .. . Again, Reality sighed. If it had a mouth, it would havelet out a big puffof air. It spoke too soon... this time, a book, apparently one of the young man''s belongings, was given the same treatment. Now both of them are stranded in who knows where.. It seems as though nothing can prevent this now. But really, how did it happen? If not even Reality can provide the answer, then it seems there would be no solution for the unsolvable. Then, only False, maybe evenFantasy, might know..
... .. . (Realm: Unknown) . .. ... .. . A vast multitude of stars, each differing in color, brightness and magnitude, are scattered throughout the dark and empty cosmos. Only the celestial bodies of light provide illumination within pitch-black. . .. ... .. . No outlying border is visibly present, everything seems to stretch beyond measurement. . .. ... .. . No sound is heard, no echoes ring out. The vacuums of space, flowing against invisible currents, are all that can possibly resonate, within the infinite, yet almost empty mass of space.. . .. ... Almost... A floating figure is seen, even in this large empty black canvas, it remains visible even to the naked eye. It seems to be the only one creating movement, as everything else seems to be halted for no reason. It looked alien, when framed against the black void adorned with stars. It was wrapped inlong and thin tendrils as dark as theunderlit body that surrounds them. An eerie and baleful aura covers the envelopedbody, but it does not consume, nor spits out any form of hatredagainst all that is considered holy. It does not seem hostile, and it does not seem harmlesseither. An ensemble of distorted voices had rung out. Though however drowned out the sound was, it wasthere, and it exists. "??s??? / ???s??? / ??s??? / uoos p?s?iu??iuo no? ????? ?i?? ?? ''??s???" The transportedfigure had soon started to slowly move faster, with each second its velocity was gradually reaching levels of undeterminable volumes. "???i?? / ??i?? ?i?? / ?i?? ???? ???? ???? / ??s??? / ??s??? ?on ??s i? qn? / ???? ?n??p / ???? ?n??p d?qq??s / ?iusi?ui?i??u? / iusi?ui?i??u? / iusi?ui?i??u? ??os? ??on??? ????" The ''carriage'' moved faster, faster, faster..... Until it ceased almost instantaneously. Before them now was a gigantic,contorted moving portal. It emitted a glow, but it was not bright. It lookedas if shadowsdare seep through and invade the unnatural silence ofthe deep void. It was sinister-looking, a dark radiance leaked from the twisted structure. It resembled the eye of a storm, wishing to suck ineverythingnear its gaping mouth. "???s??? / ??s??? / ??s??? q?iu?-???? ?on o? u???i??u?? on? ?o? so?i?i? / so?i?i? ?on? ?o? ?s? ?? / ????? / ????? / ????? ??????siu? o? q??-iu??d? ???? qopi?s on? / on? ?o? ''?o??p ?on? ndou ???? p??? / p??? / p??? uo? ?on?p ?iup o?u on? ?up / ?on / ?on / ?on s???? ?iu???? - o?i ?o ??s dn?dos? o?u on? / qn? / qn? / iu??nsiou / iu??nsiou / iu??nsiou snpp?u on? ?o??i?? ?on ???? ?od? ?? ????? / ???? / ???? s???? ?? ''?o??p u?? ??? iu ???s??? / ??s??? / ??s??? ''???? ???s d??? ??" Soon, the tendrilswere slowly retracting itself from the body they had wrapped around,pushing the now free figuregently towards the cavernous maws of the gateway to the unknown. Each of the black [manifestations]start fading, slowly losing visibility. The group of distorted voices echoed once more. "???????? - ???? / ???? / ??s??? / ??s??? / ??s????" The body, now all alone, had finally entered the lone, incomprehensible construct. Nothing else but the portal is left, its previous visitors already gone. ... .. .
. .. ... *Whoosh* *Rustle* A gentle breeze tickled the nose of a certain man. His freckled face scrunches up, it was not known whether it was due to delight or irritation. "Hrmn, lok tar ogar.... grr..." He muttered, groaning softly in his sleep. He rolled over on his side, trying to find comfort within his bed. Whenever he came home from work, each day he would be tempted to grip the cotton sheets of his bed, the soft and fluffy body of his pillow. He would always try his best to pull away from thestrong urges to take a nap. It was when he was finally done finishing up his daily routine, would he gingerly creep up against his wonderful cot. Yes, he always was a lazy person, but somehow he was a greater masochist, for he would rather drive himself mad typing away while staring at a screen, sweating his brows off insidehisvery private quarters -a.k.a ''office''-, rather than enjoy peaceful slumbering everyday. But since he had to work, well, he had towork. However,now thathe was finished -at last!-. he could now enjoy his second favorite ''hobby'': Sleep. So without thinking, he decided to nap again, screw you boss, he''s gonna have some nice tender moment with his cozy, cozy bed.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Bed, hmm oh wonderful bed... bed.. ..bed.. ... .... ..... ......It.. feels.. weird? Wait, where was the touch of his cotty-cot sheets? The mushiness of his fluffy sheep?? What happened to the warm feeling of misterbed, who would gladly let him cry and dampen itsbody up all night when he couldn''t score a chick he found on a dating web site, who helater met on public, just so he wouldget humiliated on??? With his eyes still closed, he let his hands wander, feeling and touching everything nearby. He scrunched up his face, he was feeling something heavy on his chest. It didn''t sit well for him, and he knows why... ''It''s rather hard..'' This didn''t feel like his bed, he deduced. There wasn''t any level of comfort to be felt. It wasn''t even warm, it was slightly cold to him. Who dared plantedtheir grubby hands onmister bed!? He shook his weirdthoughs away, no time to be sarcastic nor crazy, this was serious. ''And the surface, it''s not fabric I''m feeling either. Its rather.... grassy? earthy?'' He took a slight whiff of his surroundings, trying to make sense of the strange situation at hand. ''...It smells like roses..'' He was familiar with the scent, he occasionally visited the landlord''s home, he would see her gardeningher flowers from time to time. Her favorites were red-petal roses, so there was a bunch of them growing in her front porch. Whenever she came by, she would also sometimes gifthim with a few of them. Afterthat, he had promisedher that he would buy vases -since there was no plot of land or dirt in his apartment- so he could take good care of them, assuring her that her beloved flowers wouldn''t wilt. There were severalpots just lying outside his room, bathing in the sun. How was the old lady doing now? She was a bit feverish the last time he met her, it was kind of worrying. He hoped she would get better soon... ''I don''t like this at all.... nope, I''m too terrified to open my eyes.'' Gone was his slightly sarcastic side, what remains now is a panicked child scared for his life... ''Calm..calm down, j-just calm down, relax, relax a bit.'' And just like that, all three of his five senses activated at once. He felt the grassy earth beneath him... He smelled the aroma of roses all around him... He heard the rustling of leaves, and the wind passing through his ears... ''Come on, you can do this, you can do this.. you can.. do this.'' He took a deep breath, he would have probably sucked onsome foreign, infectious dust into his lungs with how much oxygen he inhaled, but he didn''t care. *Inhale* *Exhale* *Inhale* *Exhale* He took a few more breaths, the last one more deeper than the other. It''s making him a little dizzy now, he should stop. He forced his own body to stand up, trying to steady the wobbling of his knees. His body was shaking, and tension came upon him. His hands, which had dug deeper into what he could blindly verify as soil, helped push him off the bed of earth with his feet allowing him to stand up again. This would be how a baby''s first steps would play out... if the toddler was blind.... and not normal. In all his tiny ounceof glory he stood, not perfectly straight, butwas enough to balance his entire physique. So with all of that gone, he slowly, but surely opened his vision, his fourth sense now functioning. His eyes met with the intense gaze of sunlight, momentarily blinding for a moment. He tried adjusting to the brightness for a few seconds, that was fine, gives him time to prepare for a minorstroke,yeah.... With that out of the way, with his sights fixed up and ready, he looked at the world in front of him. And he was welcomed with a sight that wasnot familiar to him... His chest, heavy as it was already, became more unbearable for him with its weight. His heart pounded loudly. He didn''t have a stroke, but he sure had hoped that he died fromone right about now, because this.. was something he hadn''t seen for a looong time... This wasn''t his apartment. This wasn''t even the city he resided in. This. Was. Not. Home. It was a forest, lush greenery fills his eyesight. There were plenty of trees, patches of flowers and bushes scattered in the open field. There were no storm clouds, only clear skies and the heavenly figure of the sun, brilliantly shining down upon him, spreading its warm light acrossthe atmosphere. It was official, he was getting crazy now... He couldn''t scream, he couldn''t gasp, let alone let out a small puff of carbon dioxide. His mind was abuzzed withtoo many questions, but even then no answers came up. His first question was, "Where am I?", his second, "How didI here?", his third, "How did this happen?", and so on and so forth. With each soundless conclusion reached, faster and faster his heart raced. He currently could not hear anything, he could not feel.. all he heard, and felt, was the thumping of his heart, and the beating of his chest. He was currently panting, hot and heavy was his breath. It looked like he wouldn''t recover from such a horrible- . .. ... But he did anyways.. His face, his entire body,hadloosened up, even if it was only slightly, it helped him relax and collect his thoughts. Though he wasn''t free from hysteria just yet. It was fascinating, how this certain... ability was somehow just ''gifted'' to him, but he''s not quite sure if it really was a gift or not.... This was a unique trait to him, having a passive mind. It had helped him a lot, and had helped him manage his stress. One second he would be absolutely out of his mind, the next he would just... stop. It''s a very unusual method of relieving the mentally harrassed brain, and he was thankful for that. If it had been any other person in his shoes they would have killed themselves already from all the tension and anxiety brought upon by constant working. Now that he thought about it, it felt more like a personality disorder rather than an actual ''benefit'' to his already detrimental health. Must have been the reason why he can''t seem to show his emotions more, its gonna drag him down and make him die a single person, all alone in the world.... Dang it, now he''s depressed. It looks like he''s more focusedon his personal issues, rather than the actual problemalready slapping the hell out ofhis face. ''Phew, okay stop that. I need to focus more..'' Now he was simply sitting on the smallshrubbery of fairly tall grass, he just noticed that by now. He had also correctly guessed that the flowers around him were indeed roses, though not the pale redfrom the landlord''s own small garden that he was used to, but a mixof scarlet and pink ones. ''Well, that was fun. And I think I overreacted there. Haha yeah I overreacted...'' With his own mind finally calmed down, henow had the ability to analyze and observe his terrible situation. But even though he says that, he doesn''t really know what to do. He knows he was taken somewhere, but where actually? In what part of the world was this located at? ''Okay then, I''m in a forest, one of nature''s many ecosystems. What a sight for slightly baggy and soreeyes...'' The earthhe knows was already deprived of natural resources, too many projects were handed out by the governments'' offices due to lack of commodities for their own civillians and manufacturers, that and the increasing problem of overpopulation. Because of that there were very fewactual organic places left on the world, and by then it was already housing too many man-made structures. The only reason why those plantations are still standing are all because they were protected and legally brandedas government property. If a personso much as picked off a single leaf from either one of those places, said idiot would be shot in the head right off the spot. It''s funny how the cause of destruction is now picking itself off the ground in order to compensate for its own fault. But he was a bit glad, because there wouldn''t be any oxygen left floating around the hemisphere for him to suckle upon. And that was all that mattered to the people, that they would live. He frowned, thatwasn''t really his way of thinking, he didn''t like that his own kind would have such a narrow way of percieving the entirety of the world itself. There are lots of genuinely caring people out there who are aware of its current state, but nobody cares for them, nooo, the locals would rather applaud and give praise to the person who won an oscar, rather than the person who won a nobel prize for actually contributing something, something that actually benefitted society and the world in a positive way! That was his opinion, his take on things. He knows its flawed and childish, but he has the rights as a free-spirited individual, to say whatever the hell hewants. He was getting a bit off track with all his mentally exhausting ranting, where was he again? Oh right, forest. Once again, he observed the scenery with scrutinizing eyes. There was no way he was kidnapped and sent here, there was no object of worth or any bit of small fortune hanging off of his pockets, he was already well on his tippy toes towards bankruptcy for christ sake! And,assuming hewas kidnapped, wouldn''t it have been better to use him for something like ransom money rather than dumping him in some, random wildlife vegetation? Nothing had made sense to him.. and if that was the case, so be it. Finding logic even within the most incomprehensive of conditions, is thenext best thing... aside from panicking and screaming like a little girl. Yet logic, can only go so far.... So, for whatever reason, he opted to lay down on the ground flat on his back, but not before stretching his limbs as far as his yoga trained body can go. Yes he doesnot need to, but he rather liked being flexible. He thinks it would have been a waste to not utilize it, because he thinks even having only just one useful ability, is better than having none at all. So he did just that. And ifhe wants to think straight, then he just needs to be calm and roll along with.. whatever it is that''s happening. Ahh, he started to realize how long it''s been since he''d last experiencedone of mother nature''s many gifts. He felt comfortable now, not as comfy as mister bed but still a nice feeling.. The fiber of the dew instilled grass and the petalsof blossoming flowers... The feeling of the sun''s rays bathing him in warmth... It made him feel atease, made him want to doze off for a whil- *Slap* A stinging sensation had overrode his almost tranquil state. Both his cheeks, which were mushed together byhis hands, were gradually turning pink red. ''Now is not the time Maxi, stop being such a weirdo!'' He got up from his sprawled position, and begandusting off some dirt from his clothes. He inspected his clothing.. At present he wore a long sleeved navy-blue hoodie, his legs were covered in a pair of black pajamas. His footwear, unfortunately, were bunny slippers. Hey, he wasn''t gonna object to the comfort that was bought for cheap, his feet feels nice because of this. He gladly upholds his pride as a man, but he would always exempt things that were soft and fluffy.. ''Okay, time to head out and go wherever the hell here is....'' There was no other option. It was either wait or not wait, and since he doesn''t like doing the former so much, then the latterit is. He had now set forth, planning to go deeper in the forest groove.. . ..What if he got lost? Eh, he''ll just have to worry about that later. ...
... .. . ''Okay that''s it - I''m pooped.'' Maxi dropped like a puppet with its strings cut, looking completely tired and exhausted. It was too much to bear for his below averagephysique, he wasn''t meant for stressful physical activity. It''s not like he''s fat, he does yoga in his spare time! He''s as slim as a hot croissant... And that wasn''t just the only problem... ''Just how goddamn big is this place!?'' He mentally screechedin his mind, cursing mother nature for thinking that she was so sweet. To summarize what happened, he had spent what he thought to be at least thirty minutes hiking in the greenish trail going god knows where, and now he was attemptingto retrace his steps... He was currently lost -which was exactly the thing that he wanted to avoid- simply put, and he has no idea whichdirection he came from. The entire place was a labyrinth in his anger-filled eyes, and there was no way to tell if he was even going forward or back. His bottom was planted firmly on the grass filled earth, he was dripping in sweat from head to toe. It was unpleasant for him to feel his clothes stick to his skin like glue. His nose wrinkled in slight disgust by the sour stench that had been leaking out from himself. Maxi was trappedwithinthe deep emerald clearing that had closed him off from the outside. And though it had presented such a beautiful viewto the person who had lived far from nature''s fascinating hotspots, hedidn''t care to lookat it. His first priority shouldbe survival, his human instincts tell him so, and he couldn''t agree more. He hadn''t eaten yet for a while, but he wasn''t starving strangely enough. And thatbegs toquestion:how much short of a time had actuallypassed right before his ''kidnapping''?. It was a scary thought, and he pondered whether or not he would even want to havethe answer for that one. Him being injected withdrugsmight have been the most logicalconclusion, but he wasn''t quite sure. Rest is what he needs first, so he''ll think later. Stamina isn''t really his forte. He could run for a good 8minutes, but by then he''d be holding his lungs out. So picture his moderate surprisewhenhe had been able to walk for half an hour without stopping, you''d think he''d startcelebrating whenhe realized that wasn''t such a weak pushover after all. ''Okay, breathe slowly, don''t go too deeply.'' During one time back when he attendedyoga classes, his instructor had taught him that slow breathing benefits the body more than what regular deep breathing does. She said it helps improve mental focus and increase one''s energy to do more extra activities. But he felt as ifshe lied about that ''having more energy part'', that or he really is just a wimp. It did however help him have more room in his brain to think, so he was more productive in that part. Not only that, it had also helped him remove stress lotsof times before, so he kept doing this simple routine a few times per day, making it a part of his daily schedule. Meditation, this was what he dubbed it as. A simple form of breathing exercise, helps calm the mind and body. Not a major improvement to his, but still, he didn''t mind having some spare time to burnjust in case. ''Breathe in..... and then exhale'' A small burst of air found its way out of his mouth, free to roamthe silent atmosphere. . .. ... *Inhale* ... .. . *Exhale* He had never felt such pleasantry before, as he never really did have time for some relaxation. Yet being here made him feel a tadbit sad, and made him miss his tiny sanctium. First of all, he couldn''t work on his ''hobby''. Granted it felt like more of a form of self-punishment to himself, but it was weird not being able to do something that was already integrated as part of his life, as in not being possible to actually carry out. Second, was his book. This was an object that felt like it had as much value as his own mortal life...to an extent. It was after all, a gift, and he''d be damned to let someone else other than him so much as touch it. And if some cheeky bastardhad stolen it, well, hewouldn''t even spare an inch of mercy for them. He''d want them to scream their heart out from intense pain, rip out their uvulas, dry out their sweat glands and burn their- *Ahem*That''s too much, even for him. He''s losing focus again, he''s supposed to relieve himself from stress, not accumulate more of it. ''Ugh, just give up me..'' He ceased meditating and decided to lay cross legged with his back resting on the trunkof a rather largetree.Maxi''s mind had flooded with too many thoughtsfor him to ever remain mentally steady. Closing his eyes, he restedhis head upon wooden bark and began to muse. ''You''re in some unknown place located somewhere in the world, god knows where.You don''t know how it happened, and you don''t know how you got here. You''re possibly on your own with no one else around you, asyou''ve led yourself astray in a maze full ofplant life with almostno minimal chance of ever going back home. What else are you supposed to do?'' He was only an ordinary guy, why did someone like him deserve something so unfair and unnatural such as this? What did he do that madeFate think, "Hm, let us throwthiscrazed fool in some arbitrary environment and watch as he helplessly squirmsalongst the mud, with nothing but his own two hind legs.", and then do exactly just that to him? It was at this point that he wanted to grab hold ofhis beloved tome of random junk andscribble more nonsensical stuff in it. He hates it, but it''s kind of more like...a hate-love relationship thing going on between him and the book. Maybe that''s why he drew and wrote about all of those things, because he was bored and had nothing left to do. Well, he had to admit that hewas creative, weirdly creative he might add. That book contained all sorts offetishes abouthis greatest fantasies, and then some time later in the future used that to sproutthe idea of turning it into something like a fictional story. He wanted to share to people his form of deep love for his numberone genreand hopefully like them as well. A basic summarization for his reasoning for wanting to make a web novel based on that ''diary'' of his. He couldimagine it already, the book itself being neatly placed on his lap, fervently(?) waiting for his affectionate....dexterous hands. Yep, he could definitely picture that scene play forward, he could already feel the book''s weight on his thighs...wow so heavy, and he was crazy enough to fill almost every crevice of itsformerly blank pageswith pencil lead and ink? So dedicated he was... He visioned himself and his excited hands just touching that rough and rugged leather that was it''s cover. Forget that it madehim go visit an orthopedic clinic a bunch-a whole lot- of times, he needed way more comfort in his life, more comfortthan even whatmister bed alone could haveprovided him. Ah yes, touchy touch touch....rub a rub rub...this leather''s softer than his wallet''s hehe... ... .. . .. ... ....why does this particular scene feel so oddly familiar to him? Wasn''t thiskinda somewhat similar to that one time in the grass? That one time when hewoke up? ''...Do I have to that "slowly open my eyes" bit again?'' He jokingly breathed out, if this was what he thought it was, then he would need some really hard and solid evidence to prove that hewasn''tinsane at all. ''Ah fuck it, open sesame.'' Just like that, his vision turned back on. ... .. . ..Sigh, here we go again... *Inhale* *Exhale* *Inhale* *Exhale**Inhale* *Exhale* *Inhale* *Exhale**Inhale* *Exhale* *Inhale* *Exhale**Inhale* *Exhale* *Inhale* *Exhale**Inhale* *Exhale* *Inhale* *Exhale* *Inhale* *Exhale*- *Ding!* .. .
. .. ''Seems to be in alright condition to me.'' He had spent the last -he guessed- three minutes exercising slow breathing, until his mind had automatically reset. Then he was back tohis usual, unexpressive self. His reasons were perfectly valid, so he need not justify himself further. To clarify; he was currently in possession ofthe one thing thathe had been ruminating about so many times. The single object that he treasured and held dear in his dysfunctional heart. His beloved book, his oh so precious ''diary''. But as delightedas he was, this had raised more and more questions, and yetnot an answer in sight. ''How'', and ''When'' did it appear? It made him more uneasy, but he''ll need to verify that sinking feeling of his later. Right now at this very moment, finding an exit is first on his list... .. .
-End-