1.1
Once before,
Darkness reigned.
Then,
It came.
And with it the fury of ten thousand suns.
AGE I
AGE OF FIRE
i
Light flashed betwixt his door and floor in time with great yelps and clanging metals. A fizzing foam angled itself to my feet, stinging the tips. I mopped with a towel from the bathroom, grinding into fringes of carpet with my upper knuckle. My socks oozed a light peach so I deposited them down a chute, then felt the air of his door whoosh gainst my back. I ran without looking to somewhere I was supposed to be and waited then watched out a window his great white pickup grumble down the way. Off to Bill’s, then off to work.
Most days, this was how it worked. He’d leave from ~7-8:30 in the morning and we wouldn’t hear from him again till nightfall.
After he’d left we’d utilize our freedom to start working on our goals. We were all goal oriented, each of us having a large idea of something we’d like to accomplish in our lives.
Dive to the ocean floor and study plant life found there
Become very wealthy
Kill someone who makes attempts to rob him or otherwise harm him
Live long and stay healthful
My goal was seemingly the simplest, nonetheless I took it very seriously and applied as much of my free time to eating right exercising and learning survival skills such as building a fire without any matches as the others spent on theirs.
Vertical in its floorplan, It had a normal square footage to comfortably fit five but was divided into eight equal sized rectangular floors leaving out the garage the rest were stacked upon. This garage housed equipment I frequently used to aid my goal. A treadmill an exercise bike and a speedbag mounted on the ceiling. All in the margins of the room to fit a wide steel toolbox a car our bikes and some storage bins. We didn’t have a car there was just enough room for one. Well we did have the pickup, but it wasn’t kept in the garage.
The floor above (Floor Two): our kitchen and kitchen table and chairs.
Above (Floor Three): A hallway a bedroom and a bathroom.
Above (Floor Four...ect): A television a couch a bookshelf (entertainment room).
Above: A hallway a doublesized bedroom and a dogbed.
Above: A hallway a bedroom a catbox a catbed and a cat climbing structure.
Above: A hallway a master bathroom.
Above: A hallway a bedroom a bathroom.
Above: Boxes shelves general storage and a wide clear window stretching out from an inch off the ceiling to midway down the wall on every wall connected.
Each floor was linked by a winding set of steps. I’ll describe each floor and subsequent hallway and bedroom as they become relevant. For now all the other information you’ll find useful is as follows:
Me - Floor Six
Him - Floor Eight
Dive - Floor Five
Rich - Floor Three
Killer - Floor Five
Gathered in the entertainment room midday, the four of us were huddled in front of the tv sitting cross legged aside from Rich who prefered to stand. We were taking a regularly timed break from our training to have lunch and relax for an hour or so. I was eating a ham sandwich and decided to mention how I was enjoying it.
“I’ve been enjoying this ham sandwich and I thought I should mention it.”
Without moving his eyes from the tv Killer responded, “Oh yeah? What’s in it?”
“Well ham of course, also lettuce tomato and pepper.”
The conversation was taking back seat for the time being as the program Eleven Letters was currently on and we were all quite invested in it. It follows the life of a cybernetically enhanced Japanese samurai who works as a project manager for a small software company.
The window on the back wall facing our yard was half open. You could faintly hear windchimes and the creaking of tree limbs. A sweet smell clung to the hot sticky breeze as it glode in, we started to take notice. It was especially strong or else it wouldn’t have caught our divided attention. It smelled of freshly cut apples and peaches and reminded me of the juice that runs down your chin when you bite into fresh fruit in spring.
“What’s that soapy smell.”
“Smells more like smoke to me. Is someone having a bonfire?”
“No way, unless they’re using soap as kindling. Smell it harder.”
Dive and Killer continued to go back and forth on this as Rich stuck his torso out the opening and inhaled loud enough for all of us to hear.
“Smells rank. Sewage or something.”
“Unless we have a neighbor that unbeknownst to me shits soap, you are dead wrong. Your senses deceive you and I feel nothing but pity for your failing brain.”
“Why don’t we go and track down the source instead of arguing?”
They all nodded at my suggestion and followed my lead down the stairs. Arriving in the garage we opened the supply chest that housed our shoes and coats and gloves and various winter protection. But it wasn’t winter so we just got our shoes. I began lacing up my boots as Dive and Killer slipped on their tennis shoes, Rich already in his slippers opened the garage door.
Our house was on a hill. To the left (south) it went up for a mile before reaching woods and branching off into two directions, the right (north) continues down for a quarter mile before leveling off and turning to a dirt road that trails off into more woods before leaving sight. Similarly designed houses to ours dot each side of the road. We walk out onto the sidewalk.
The smell was now double in intensity and cloaked our bodies entirely as we stepped into it. A cloud of stench seemed to hang lazily over and coat the entire street. The air was heavy and thick. Rich filled his chest with a deep inhale as the rest of us plugged our noses.
“Definitely sewage.” now plugging his nose Rich motioned for us to follow him as he turned right down the hill. He began jogging so we matched his pace. His slippers clapped along the pavement as his unbuttoned shirt trailed along behind him like a cape.
Arriving at the hills resting point we stop to catch our breath. A warm sugary taste coats my mouth as I breathe. Killer twists his foot into the gravely dirt and looks up. Rich sucks his finger tip before popping it out above his head to feel the air. He makes a sound indicating his thinking. Dive rubs his forehead.
“Perhaps we should head back and close the windows before this absorbs into the furniture.” I mostly just wanted to escape the dense suffocating air pressing my lungs. Rich lurched his head forward with widened eyes then darted deeper into the woods and I thought it best I follow as this was my idea initially.
Round with squared edges, deep green speckled with blue, white and orange, smooth but likely small ridges and bumps could be felt if you ran your hand over it. A scaly tan limb stuck out from four points, a tail protruding out the back, the most forward of which had black eyes and a thin sneering mouth. I think it’s a sea turtle. What’s it doing here? The rain beat down heavy, deflecting off its shell, absorbing into its head, the ocean turtle dragged and forced its massive body through the gutter as a stream of runoff ever growing in intensity pushed it in the opposite direction. Leaves, small pebbles, sticks, dirt and various other debris such as the occasional napkin or candy wrapper pushed or stuck to the turtle’s face and shell as it slid forward. A semi roared past, its slick brown tires shaking the road, close enough that the turtle could touch them if it extended its flipper. Would you call that a flipper? My eyes left the turtle for only a second as I glanced at my bench neighbor, his grey face illuminated by his phone at which he was staring blankly. I was considering grabbing his attention and asking his thoughts on the turtle matter but when I checked to make sure it was still there it wasn’t. What? Where could it have gone in so short a time, and here I thought turtles were slow! My eyes scrolled up and down the street, then fixed on a storm drain. It didn’t even look like the turtle could fit through the opening but this seemed to be the only possibility. Why did it go down there? Was it trying to or did it get pushed in by a car? What wotaptaptap
“Can I borrow a tissue mate?
“Sure.” she extended the pouch outward and he grabbed a few then waddled out of view. She stucPNPTHPPBBBBBBBBBBB followed by a sneeze, what sounded like just a yell, another sneeze, and some sniffing. She stuck her finger in and shut the book around it. This guy asked a lot of questions. I can’t say I’m exactly enjoying it, but I’m not even fifty pages in yet. He waddled back up and she was beginning to suspect he’d try to return the tissues to her but he kept going. They say to give a book a hundred pages, and this has been recommended to me by practically everyone I know and don’t. It’s a bit of a phenomenon recently, in fact three people I passed on the way to my seat were reading their own copy. How far they were I didn’t notice, I should ask when it gets good. Or just look it up. Slipping her bookmark inplace of her finger she exchanged the book for her phone, when does cinder king get good, readersforum When does Cinder King Get Good? Everyone’s been telling me to read this book and I’m like 140 pages in and it still…… click When does Cinder King Get Good? Discussion - Jamesokin - Everyone’s been telling me to read this book and I’m like 140 pages in and it still isn’t interesting to me. The main character is really dull and there really isn’t an overarching plot yet. It’s just him walking around seeing weird stuff and getting creeped out. Also he blablabla yeah I agree with that mostly. ScentedApe - So if you’re not enjoying it already just drop it. I consider it a masterpiece and so do moblablabla Fruitp - It starts getting really REALLY good in chapter 8 which starts at page 163 your soooo so close please keep reading!! Its so worth it!!!! well alright I guess it’s not terrible I can make it till then. Or maybe I will just drop it. I guess I’ll need something to do while I wait, I’ll just go till a hundred pages, happy medium.
Soon, the bus hissed to a stop and she stood up and filed out with a few other passengers. 123456789 West Man Avenue. It was cool and bright. Her metal soled shoes clicked along the cobblestone walkway. The apartments and shops lining the street were empty and still. She crossed a stone bridge over a dried up river. Black graffiti in some foreign script detailed the railing. It should only be a half mile away. Sandwiched between a church and an empty courtyard, Geioli’s.
Cracked but unbroken windows with layers of smudge, the sign painted a peeling pink. Looks pretty run down. A square solid wood door at the peak of two steep steps. An imposing steel handle.
Requiring a hefty pull, once ajar revealed a dim, windowless room walled, ceilinged, and floored in ancient dark oak. Looks almost like a pub, or a log cabin or something. It was significantly larger on the inside than you’d guess, it’d be a ballroom if not a restaurant, it was walless aside from the six completing the box. Stairs climbed the left wall to a thin walkway lining the room, metal railing. The dimness was contributed to by excessive dust on every surface seen so far and floating gently in every direction. She ran her finger up the wall, anticipating a splinter, it came back black. Ew.
“Hello welcome to Geioli’s, just one today?”
“Yes.”
“Ok, would you like a booth or a table?”
“A booth would be fine.”
Deeper into the room she realized no one else was here. A watch check revealed it was indeed lunch time. Booths lined the left right and back walls, sturdy, thick tables filled in the middle of the room. She sat on the green rubber like material and felt the springs sink under her weight. She could hear them squeak. It’s not impressive so far, pretty uncomfortable and gross, a strange atmosphere. Of course all of this is rendered charming if the food is good. A menu floated down, the drink order of water with two slices of lemon and one slice of lime on a plate was taken, and the taker disappeared behind a saloon-esc door on the back wall, creaking loudly the whole way.
Uiorp - A lightly braised cut of our finest boiled meat, pan seared. Topped with vegetables
Well what vegetables? And what meat? And what the hell is Yorp anyway? Is that how you say it? Doesn’t sound Italian… But what do I know. It’s sort of placed in the exact middle of the menu, it’s not in the entree or appetizer section… I should be taking notes. Three ringed, blue, placed on the table and flipped open to a dogeared page with the date on the top. The page to the left packed with scrawlings and lines. The pen now clicked scribbles her thoughts.
Geiolis:
Arrived at 12:19 PM, greeted upon entry, drink order taken at 12:20 PM.
dirty dusty dark
no decorations, unfriendly atmosphere, but not quite classy either
very creaky floors, mention how it feels like the whole place could collapse at any moment or maybe catch on fire its so dry in here but i guess it being dry is better than humid or wet or something
waitress was welcoming but not too welcoming and you kinda wanna aim for too welcoming just to be sure
other staff is creepy, guy on balcony keeps lo
“Ah! Kwelcom to Gayolis!!” heavily accented, not quite European, Asian if anything. His white knuckled grip on the railing loosened in one massive hand to reveal his palm in a wave. Open grin and eye placement (directly on her) persisted on joyful jaunt to the ground floor. Beeline to her booth, speedy clunks of cowboy boots, hands behind his back. Arrived, hand big enough to wrap around her head motioned out with a great sloosh of air, flurry of dust following. They now clenched her booth, wood creaking as he breathed at her, staring.
“How are you I am Mista Keng this is mya restaraunta I inherited her from my grandpappy, you liking so fa?” maybe not Asian, now sailor-esc. She starte-
“Might I sujest tha Yeeop? Delicious cut of ou finest meat with sublime vegetables.” Well that’s not exactly new information. I still have no idea what it is. Tiny moustache like two dashes from a sharpie on his broad olive lip. Hair, similarly, appeared almost painted on, shone unnaturally like lines of tar on cracked asphalt. No eyebrows. Hm.
“It’s a pleasure Mr. Keng,” normally a handshake would follow, but she feared it would be her last. “I assume you heard of my arrival?” Sometimes there’s a leak at the agency, word gets out and restaurants know beforehand, no biggie. She just has to make a note of it in the review.
“Ah.. nono. You make ah reservation?” now it did sound European.
That’s weird. Does he greet all of his customers so aggressively?
“Nevermind that, you said you’d recommend the Yeepo? Now I have to as-”
“Of couusse!!! The Hyahyop is ou most popular dish, it is a fantastic bend of ou finest meat and ou finest vegetables all bended to gether, mmm-MM! Meat so delicious you could die for it! Vegetables so crisp you take a razor to the eye and CUT! But when you bend to gether, ouuu, take a fouk and chip a bit of meat on it, slice, a bit of vegetables on it, slice, mmmmm, to gether they create something truly beautiful, you cut the legs off a puppy and watch it squirm into traffic AAHAHAHAHAAAAAAaaaaaaaaAA!!!!” her face pushed back with great gusts of wind, waving his hands violently above and around his and her head as he spoke, ending his cackle slapping his veiny palms together in an awesome clap! Causing a ringing in her ears and the approaching waitress to jump and drop her water with two slices of lemon and one slice of lime on a plate.
Neither the sound nor sight of the shattering of the plate and glass were experienced by her, as she was rendered temporarily deaf, and temporarily blind by the newfound coating of dust on her glasses. Now off to be cleaned, a blurry glance showed Mr. Keng leaned over the kneeling waitress. Blowing, wiping, to no avail, what she needed was that water. One dip, crystal clear.
Mr. Keng sped over and began what sounded like an apology as it faded into her gradually returning hearing. This disorienting exchange would surely make for good reading if she tried to include all the details. He seemed done speaking, hands again clasped behind his wide frame out of view. He began bending at the hips, slowly leaning his body closer to hers - almost robotically.
“Uh, do you have any like… wet naps or something?”
“What naps.”
“Wet naps?”
“Yes, what naps.” Keng then swiveled on one heel to face the waitress halfway to the saloon door, clutching the shards and citrus slices, “OI!” she concluded that the gasps and guttural consonants that then escaped Mr. Keng’s dual whiskered lip were most definitely an alien language. He then reversed the rotation in the same single heeled manner, to face her, sheepishly wince-smiled and chuckled, then creaked his way to the back of the room following the waitress behind the saloon door.
She wasn’t exactly sure what to add to her notes. She stared at the empty boothback across from her for a few seconds, then wrote:
oking at me, very unprofessional and sort of crowding, loud, added to the uncomfortable environment
waitress dropped my drink, no apology, host did apologize though, I think…
menu needed clarification which I didnt really get, unclear
did it get pushed in by a car? What would make it want to go down there? Was there some unknown underground turtle community where all the turtles and toads and tree frogs sing happy songs and dance around in circles holding each other’s hands and paws and fins as the drain drenches them in filthy street water and rain and hail? No. It couldn’t be. This was far too ridiculous. Far too obscene and insane. I began to wondhere you go, I’m so sorry about all that. Are you all ready to order or do you still need a few minutes?
The water with two slices of lemon and one slice of lime on a plate with a small paper packet had arrived, she again closed the book around her finger and raised the menu with her other hand.
“I think I’m ready thank you. I’ll be having the,” quick glance to make sure she had something to write with, she did. “Pasta parmesana with shrimp, pasta parmesana with steak, two orders of the prime rib one medium rare one medium well, the large garden salad dressing on the side hold the cheese, a bowl of your soup of the day add cheese, the spaghetti and meatballs dinner sized with garlic bread and asparagus as the sides, and an order of kid’s chicken tenders with ranch dressing and ketchup… oh and I think I’ll try this as well,” pointing to the mysterious Uiorp. “Also some extra napkins and a cup of hot water please and thank you.”
“Um. Sorry, what sides did you want with the spaghetti and meatballs?”
“Garlic bread and asparagus please.”
“Uhhh, well our garlic bread is considered an appetizer so you can’t add it as your second side or else we’ll have to charge you extra. Also the bowl of soup is served during dinner hours only, and we’re not allowed to add cheese to it anyways.”
“Ok, cut the bread and add a cup of your soup of the day as the other side for the meatballs, also give me an order of garlic bread as an appetizer with extra cheese on the side. For the bread, not the soup.”
“Um. Sure, ok we can do that…” eyes not yet looking up from the furious transcribing of her order.
Suspicion on the nature of her visit to the restaurant was arising, as it usually did when she had to order such a large amount and wide variety of food. Usually there wasn’t too much time to meditate on that as she had to arrive during the lunch rush, but, as noted, it was empty aside from her.
“Ok! I should have that out for you as quick as I can.” they exchanged smiles and she walked back behind the saloon doors yet again. The naps only smudged the dust into a grey paste, so her glasses were tucked away into her bag until a better cleaning method could be made available. She made sure to cross out the mention of the waitress’ lack of apology in her notes, then opened her book back up. It might be a long wait.
Far too obscene and insane. I began to wonder how exactly the government will respond to this? It doesn’t exactly require immediate action according to most experts, but the unease and unrest this event has caused in most populations is creating panic. The only thing we can really do is wait and watch. We have with us here Dr. Meen Beems, a geologist working out of his laboratory on South street of North city, in the southernmost North county in southern North Carolina. Dr. Beems, thoughts on this event? … Yeah well Linda you’re exactly right about the panic, and exactly right about there not really being anything we can do exactly except take samples and test them which is exactly wh
“Turn that crap off eh?”
“Why man? this shits crazy.”
“Yeah but it don’t exactly affect us in here”
“Ch.”
They were advised to each make one compromise every day. This, in their eyes, counted as one. He switched off the television and turned to the clock above the window.
“Eh, is it bout lunch time Melvy?”
“Quarter ta noon.”
“Wanna start headin down then?”
“Yeah alright.”
Out the steel door into the cream brick hallway, up the twelve steel stairs into the ash brick hallway, crossing the glass bridge above the atrium, down eight floors in the service elevator, left into the pool room (swimming), down and right into the other pool room (game), through the underwater tunnel, out into the grassy yard, over the baseball diamond, back inside through the library, back outside through the zebra enclosure, over the sand pit, and into the white windowed doors of the mess hall.
The entire way they were imagining strangling each other. Though they appeared civil, they hated each other’s guts.
