Abolition, Chapter 1: Burning Love Alive

I killed the villian.
Burnt him alive.
I saw him finally have pain in his eyes.

I killed the hero.
Burnt him alive.
I watched the angel’s wings turn to ash.

I killed the love.
Burnt it alive.
Fuck love. Give me fire.

***

The sun is scorching the earth. Making the air I breath a hot, dry, 110 degrees. Life in the desert. 110 degrees is nothing to me.

I smell like I’m on fire, burnt flesh. But I’m driving the convertible as fast as I can so I don’t have to smell it. On this long, lonely, paved road in the middle of the desert, I can really open this rust bucket up.

I scratch some of the dried blood off my forehead as I look myself over in the mirror. I’m a shock blond. All white hair. It looks rather dirty right now however. The sweat, dirt, and blood act as hair gel, spiking it up, a gray mess.

I can see road and desert for miles. Just… nothing. Straight road. Dry desert. An occasional dead animal on the road. Road runners that didn’t run fast enough. Lizards soaking up the heat from the pavement that were too caught up in their cold blooded euphoria to notice the speeding tire until the second before it crushed their skull. That’s all.

I’ve only seen two other people driving down this road. And I’ve been driving all day. Like I said. Nothing.

The up side to that, of course, no cops. Since I’m going 70 above the reccomended speed limit, I’m sure they’d love to pull me over. A 26 year old, blood stained, naked white haired man nearly doubling the speed limit wearing burnt flesh cologne, it’s kind of hard to explain. Not to mention Neva laying next to me. Almost naked herself. She looks more like a skeleton than the girl she used to look like. Lost about 40 pounds since we met. She’s a god damn succubus, a fucking cannibal, but she’s still alive. I think.

I see a flicker of light about a mile in the distance. About time I see someone else.

I reach for my smokes, between Neva’s legs. She’s passed out on the bench seat, her legs resting on my lap. I grab the corner of the pack of cigarettes. I hit a bump on the road and the smokes fall back on the seat. I push Nev’s leg out of the way and grab a lung dart out of the pack.

I cup my hand around the end so the breeze doesn’t put the flame out. I just about light it when I hear that idiot slam on his horn. Dumb fuck probably hasn’t seen anyone all day either. I ignore it as a flame darts out of the tip of my finger. I’ve learned to control it, but the flame still burns. My hands are a blistery mess. As long as its not in one place for too long, I’ll be fine.

The first hit off the cig is always the best. Fills your lungs with gaseous cancer. Better than sex. Sometimes. That fucktard is still blaring his horn, waving at me.

The flame on my finger tip is starting to seer the skin. I bounce the flame around my fingertips. Roll it around my hand. Hide it like a magician hiding a playing card, making three reappear. Juggling them with my fingers.

I hate people sometimes. That idoit passes me. Shouts “HEY!” No more flames on my fingertips. But I still see them.

I rub some dirt off my side mirror with my thumb. I watch the three flames dance around the gas cap of the other guy’s ride. Seeping into the cap. Then foosh!

Gasoline is a flame’s best friend. Its a cheap hooker, or a frail little girl in an alley to a sex addict. Fire loves gas. Gas isn’t a fan of flame however.

That guy is lost in a giant fireball that used to be his car. Pieces fall from the sky as the flame burns everything inside. Cleaning it in a sick, twisted way. The guy probably died from the explosion. But hopefully he was still alive as he got surrounded by the burning red fire. He felt the explosion, held his breath, hit his brakes, and immediately tried to push the button that would release the seatbelt. The flames would melt the plastic button in an instant, making it impossible to release. He’d still hit the button as his hair singes. He’d run out of air, struggling for his life, and he’d instinctively take a deep breath. The heat from the fire would collapse both of his lungs. Then its a race. A race between blood and fire. Who will kill first? Will the lack of oxygen to the brain make him pass out and die. Or will the fire cook him alive? Hopefully the fire will win.

The car is just a red dot with rising clouds of smoke on my mirror now. I guess I’ll never know. The explosion woke Neva up. She lets out a mumbling giggle. She knows what just happened. She was awake the last two times it I did it. I smack her ass as I try to get this shit pile on wheels up to the speed limit plus eighty.

We aren’t running from anything. We’re running to the next chapter. I burnt the angel with the devil horns until he was a pile of ash in the incinerator. Or maybe he was the devil with the angel wings? I’m not justifying it as good or evil. I’m just saying I did it. It’s done.

The bitch beside me killed the she-skunk, a beauty and a beast all wrapped up in one, just like Neva. Two dead heroes. One in a casket, the other in an urn. Job finished.

Now, the road ahead is teasing us with the unknown. We don’t have a plan. Don’t care to. We’re just turning the page to the next chapter. Looks like the next chapter starts with an old roadside store.

I hit the brakes and glide this shit pile into the dirt next to the gas pump.

“Fill it up, I gotta piss,” I shake Neva until she gets up.

She gives me that look. That ‘I could kill you in a second, You know it, and you love it’ look. She scratches her scalp and in the sun you can see dirt blowing off her blond hair.

I step out, barefoot, into the dirt. Sand and rocks find a resting place in between my toes. I stretch, feeling the tense muscles in my body expand, hear several of my joints crack from being in one position for so long. It’s been a long drive.

I reach into the back seat, grab my jeans and pull them on. The last thing the guy in this place is a naked pyromancer.

I walk around the back of the car, watch Neva filling up the car in her pink underwear and tiny little white shirt you can see through.

I nearly trip over some fucking cat on my way to the store. I bend over and scratch its head with my blistered index finger. It purrs at me like its got a tiny little engine in its throat. The smell of burning flesh from my skin returns to my nostrils. The only smell worse than burnt flesh is burning fur. I really hate that smell.

Omnighost, Chapter 1: An Eternity In Duality

You know what sucks? I mean what really sucks? You spend three hours running through a dark city knowing you got two mafia hitmen right behind you. You hop over fences, run down alleys, duck behind cars, dodge behind buildings just to make it to your apartment. You close the door, lock it twice, and sit on the floor to catch your breath. You call your cat over to scratch it behind his ears. Then you hear a footstep and feel the cold silencer of a pistol find a nice resting place on the back of your head. That’s what really sucks. I don’t think anyone wants to die tired. I know I didn’t.

Seconds after I feel that gun on my head I was deeply disappointed. Not because I know I’m as good as dead. Don’t get me wrong, that’s no good news either. Growing up you hear that you get to see your life flash before your eyes right before you die. You get to relive the good times, the bad times, and those times forgotten. Quite honestly, I was looking forward to it. There were things from childhood that I’d like to see again. Too bad that’s just a bunch of bull shit. All I got to see is my cat, Kodiak, look up at me, let out a little mew. Then the room lights up from the flash of the gun for a split second. I see the dirty dishes piled up in the sink out of the corner of my eye and I’m gone. I guess that’s a sink full of plates that I don’t need to wash. I suppose death isn’t so bad after all.

The sound of the gun powder exploding made me flinch. Or maybe it was the bullet ripping through my brain. I opened my eyes and I’m sitting on a cloud. Not the kind of cloud my past drug use made me think I was sitting on. An actual cloud. I look up and notice I’m in both Heaven and Hell. See, there’s something else you’re lied to about. Heaven and Hell are in the same place. It’s just two different lines. One line for sinners, one line for saints. I’m sitting, just like I was at my apartment, right smack dab in the middle, light on the left side of my body, shadow on the right. I guess I’m in limbo. At least it’s scenic where I’m sitting.

On my left you got your Heaven. White fluffy clouds, the kind you try to find shapes in as a kid. Happiness and sunshine on that side, the whole nine. There’s also four people. Big people. Giants. Titans possibly. Like the ones in old mythology. The titans that ruled over the heavens. Or sat on mountains. Or whatever the hell they did. Whoever they are, they all have curly blonde hair and blue eyes. Swedish? Nah. Nice togas though. You got an older man with a crown, I guess he’s the king, God maybe. Could just be the security gaurd. The fuck if I know, this is my first day here. He’s sitting on a cloudy throne. Beside him is a woman with a crown. Must be the wife, not bad. I probably shouldn’t be thinking those thoughts considering where I am. I suppose a guy’s brain works the same way in the afterlife. Standing behind them are a younger looking guy and some chick. I guess that’s the prince and princess. I give them a nod.

Things aren’t as beautiful over on the right however. Dark clouds, and I mean dark. They look like piles of fluffy charcoal. Not the good kind of fluffy either. Fluffy like how your bed and blankets look when you’re dead tired and have to be at work in ten minutes. Evil fluffy. This side has a sun too, except its red. Not red as in a pretty sunset, red as in stained with blood. Lightning, thunder, the works. Four more people in some gothic armor over here. Straight black hair, grayish skin, red eyes. The right is definitely a smile-free zone. There’s the Prince and Princess of Hell behind the king and his throne. And he’s got his ball and chain next to him. Man, glad I don’t have to come home 10 minutes late for supper with that waiting for me. They got to be having some serious hate-sex to produce those precious little snowflakes standing behind them. I fake-tip my nonexistant hat at them and get on my feet.

So here I am, looking God and Satan, or reasonable substitutes, in the face, not sure how to break the ice. Two Jews walk into a bar? Nah, God probably isn’t for those kinda jokes. Maybe I should introduce myself. No. I want to move this party along.

“What the fuck am I doing here?!” I’m a simple and blunt kind of guy.

No answer. Please, please, please don’t tell me the service here is gonna be like at the DMV. I don’t want to be here for the rest of my… Oh, that’s right. I suppose I have time afterall.

After a few minutes of waiting they finally send a tour guide. Some white-haired old guy materializes about 100 yards away from me. I guess it was a materialization. I’ve never seen someone materialize, but he came out of no where, and starts walking towards me. He walks right down the border of Heaven and Hell with his hands folded behind him, wearing a robe. He stops about a foot in front of me. A little closer than I like them, but whatever. He puts a hand on each side of my face. Now it’s getting creepy.

“In this place, my son, you are like glass. Fragile. Transparent,” the guy calmly explains. “They do not answer you for fear that you may shatter.”

Glass, huh? I pull my head back. No offense, pops, but if some guy is gonna put his hands on my face I want a drink first, and a convertible.

“So what am I doing here?”

“You’re here because your mortal life has ended.”

“Yeah, no shit. I got shot in the head. I got that part figured out. But what am I doing here?”

“This is Duality, where the gods reside,” he says with a soothing voice. “When mortal lives expire, the soul drifts to either the afterlife of light, or the afterlife of darkness. Just where they go depends on the goodness of the soul. You however, as you said, are in limbo.”

“Wait,” I interrupt. “I never said I was in limbo.”

“Yes, but you thought it. Here thoughts are the same as words. Your thoughts are heard by everyone.”

“Um, did you all hear that thing…”

“Your thoughts about the King of Light’s wife?” He clears his throat. “Yes, we all heard that.”

I give Mrs. Light a nervous smile. Whoops. Well at least she knows that I think she looks good naked. I sure wish I would have been wearing a condom in that thought.

“So…” I say trying to pick out which of the thousand questions running through my head I want to ask next. “Why am I not on one side or another?”

“You see, Dante,” he knows my name at least. “You’re here because the gods are having a difficult time deciding where you belong.”

“Hmm… I stumped the almighty, all-knowing gods. Should I feel special?”

“If you wish. This is the first time in eternity that this has happened. So, yes, it is a special happening. Very much so.”

Uh-oh. Johnny Tour Guide here is getting awfully excited.

“Actually my name is Tamius.”

Yeah, thanks. Once in an eternity, that’s probably a big deal. With landing a one in infinity jackpot like this I should have played some roulette before I got popped. I could be a millionaire, you know, for a few hours before I died.

“How long is this gonna take?” I ask Tamius, or whatever he said his name is.

“Well, it’s hard to tell,” he starts. “They’ve been pondering this for hours now. No telling when they may reach a descision.”

“Hours? I’ve only been here for a few minutes.”

“Yes, but you’ve been dead for hours. Time on the mortal realm and time in Duality are two completely different things. There is no way to compare the two. Time here is both faster and slower than time where you’re from.”

It’s a good thing someone blew my brain out of my forehead because if I still had it, it’d be exploding right now.

“So these guys are trying to decide where I’m going. Why? Shouldn’t it be clear?”

“Oddly enough, no.” Tamius tells me.

I turn my gaze to him, expecting some bad news.

“You see there is a similar place like this in you,” Tamius explains. “Your own Duality. Each soul is filled with good and evil, right and wrong. Everything you’ve ever done in your life influenced the balance of your duality, even if it seemed neither right nor wrong. Even the tiniest things such as breathing. The gods have two lists that go on forever. On these lists are written a heirarchy of what is good, and what is evil. The Gods find the preservation of life the absolute best thing one can partake in. Afterall, the Gods’ greatest gift is mortal life. And as you may have guessed, the ending of mortal life is considered the most evil. Ending your own life is considered far worse than ending someone elses, however, both are rather bad.”

“Well I didn’t kill myself. So I should be good right?”

“Not neccessarily. You have done plenty of bad in the last mortal year of your life. Drugs, crime, sex, greed, worst of all, murder, the taking of mortal lives.”

Oh, yeah, there’s that. I could fell the mood begining to sour.

“I’m going to hell then?”

“I do not know for sure,” Tamius sighs. “While the past year of your life has been full of evil, the last week of your life was full of exceptional good. I’m sure you remember Candelaria Trevino.”

The little girl. What the fuck was I thinking? I remember her. Her face. The look she gave me, holding her teddy bear, as I pointed a magnum at her. I’ve never been that scared before. Not even when I had that gun digging into my skull. I can’t imagine what was going on in her head at the time.

“You didn’t pull the trigger. That’s what’s important. You decided the preservation of life was more important than your greed. You gained tremendous ground in the good half of your duality that night, Dante. The few days later you made more progress in bettering yourself by preserving your own life.”

“It wasn’t anything good. I was running from hitmen. I was being a coward.”

“No, you were making sure you stayed alive. It was a very brave thing. That almost evened your good and evil out.”

“I thought you said I was evened out inside,” I said, staring the King of Darkness in the face but talking to Tamius. “I ran from Valentino’s goons. That’s all I did for the last week of my life. What did I do to even it out?”

“Do you remember what you were doing in the few seconds before your death?”

“I was petting Kodiak, my cat.”

“Your cat missed you. To the Gods, all life is precious, no matter what life it is. From humans to mosquitos. While it may seem that it was just a scratch behind the ear to you, it was the littlest bit you needed to even out your duality. You are, were, all the cat had in its life. You left it alone for two days. That scratch behind the ear meant a lot more to Kodiak than you could possible fathom.”

I miss Kodiak already. For five years that damn calico was the only constant I had. Ugh. I can’t be getting teary eyed over a cat can I? Back to business.

“What now?” I asked. “The Gods just flip a coin. Heads; I’m in heaven. Tails; I’m fucked?”

“The Gods of good and evil are debating your punishment and reward now. It could take another hour, a week, a year. It might even take an eternity to figure out what they’ll do with you. Nothing like this has happened before, Dante. Whatever the Gods may decide, I’m sure it’ll be just.”

I have a feeling I’m going to be here for a long, long time. Maybe I should look for my parents’ spirits while I’m up here. Scratch that. My mom would kill me again if she found out I got involved with the mob.

After Dark the Last Child Cries, Chapter 1: The Genesis Seed

Have you ever been the youngest in your group of friends? They don’t invite ya to the cool parties because they are afraid they’ll get busted for providing alcohol to a minor. Or how about the youngest of your family, they treat you like a baby, your older brothers and sisters pick on you all the time. Think that’s bad? Try being the youngest in the world. Take it from me. It’s not good.

16 years ago I was born, like most, in a hosptial. The difference is, most doctors deliver 4 or 5 babies a day, if not more. The doctor that delivered me had five years of rust in the tank. He told me when I was ten years old that he almost dropped me because he hasn’t done it in so long. Good thing he didn’t, dropping the last baby born won’t get you any kind of good publicity.

The youngest people in the world, besides myself, are about 21. My mother told me that, 21 years ago or so, something strange happened. A purple light travelled around the earth, orbiting it from outside. At the time astrologers, scientists, and calmists said it was just a shooting star that got locked into earth’s gravitational pull. They said that the moon came to be in the same way. That it orbitted around the planet, gathering space dust until it got bigger and slowly drifted further away. They say our moon is still drifting, a millimeter a year, in 2,000 years it’ll only move half a millimeter annually. Then less, then less. But, apparently, our moon will be gone in a couple hundred billion years. It’ll get too big, too far away for the planet to pull it in and it’ll float off, probably getting wrapped up in Jupiter’s pull, or the Sun’s. If it drives around the sun it’ll evenutally get some space rain and, trillions of years from now, it’ll be another planet. I’m not a scientist, and I don’t know a whole damn lot about constellations, Orion, Ursula Major, and all that, but it sounds like they’re a little off their rockers, those scientists. But the alternative explanation wasn’t much better. The religious explanation is just as crazy as any other.

Priests, prophets and the like claim its a sign from God. God sending us a interstellar text message saying “Hey you down there, stop fuckin’ shit up.” They say God changed the world that day. My parents didn’t notice a big change. The ocean was still wet, California trees were still on fire, people killed other people for no reason, all seemed right in the world. The only thing that was different was nobody could get pregnant anymore.

The couple days after God’s Sign left the Earth fertility clinics started getting more clients. Then the next week even more, then more, until it snowballed into a world wide epidemic. They tried taking the sperm from the men and putting it in the egg, then putting it back in the woman. Nothing. Then they had the sperm and egg in a test tube, left them there until they made friendly with each other. Nothing. Then they went to sperm banks. Even that jizz was spoiled. Then they said it was the next stage of Human evolution. The male couldn’t get the female pregnant the same way. That gave every guy amnesty to stick their dicks in evey hole that they could find on their wives. Still nothing. Then there was panic. No one could get knocked up. Everything else in the world was fine, just no babies. At least all those orphans got adopted. But they seemed to make a huge deal out of it. I personally think it’s a good thing.

No one really knows if its a problem with the woman’s egg, or the man’s baby batter, or both. Scientists say that radiation from God’s Sign could have floated down and contaminated the ball sac of all the men on Earth. But a few good things came out of it. World hunger is ending, population problems are slowly being controlled, the Rain Forest isn’t getting cut down as much anymore, but there’s still panic. How is the earth gonna continue 50, 60 years from now. People will be too old to farm food, too old to put out fires, There won’t be enough social security for people to retire on. They’ll all be too shitty to give a damn about anything anyway. Eventually going crazy from lack of human contact. Maybe blowing their heads off. Who knows.

Then, 16 years and 9 months ago, during a time where people basically fucked on the streets because of the advances of STD cures, and because they couldn’t get pregnant, but someone did. My mother. Her and my dad were dating and one day she said those two words that no guy wanted to hear 21 years ago, but it was rare at the time, “I’m Late.” I don’t know if my dad shit himself or what, but apparently, I’m a pretty big deal. Doctor’s first thought that Dad had super-sperm, Godly come, The Genesis Seed. Then they thought my mom’s vagina was God’s salvation, but they figured it was just a lucky combination of the right sperm cell, and the right egg. With 400,000,000 white tadpoles per session, I guess its not too hard to believe that it was just a freak occurance. I suppose that makes me the world’s biggest freak. But some say my dad was the major freak. He didn’t stick around very long after he found out he had millions of microscopic superheroes in each nut. He went all biblical, started going around, showing the picture of him in the news paper, the one with the “The Man with the Genesis Seed” headline. Using that as a pickup line. I guess it’s a good one at least. The fertility scientists wanted him to stick around and study his sperm. But he was already gone, spraying it into all the women that would let him. He thought he was the guy who was gonna repopulate the world. No more kids were born after me. But hey, at least dad got laid.

My mother was killed when I was 12, almost 13, right after I passed puberty. The over-zealous religious folks took God’s Sign and the following world-wide infertility as God’s way of saying the Earth was too populated, that we needed to stop being fruitful and multiplying for awhile. They say, through prayer of course, that God will forgive us all and we’ll be able to reproduce again. As fate would have it, I was the exception to God’s rule. The devout decided that since no one could reproduce besides my mom, my mom’s womb must be the work of the Devil. Some sick fuck shoved a steel cross in her eye and through her brain when she protested that she wasn’t possessed by Satan. Talk about an exorcism.

I ran away from home, if you want to call it that, after my mom died. The fertility scientists that were at our house more than family wanted me to masturbate in a cup, to see if I had “The Genesis Seed.” To see if my pale army could bring an invasion. I never did let them find out. I was never interested in repopulating the world. Maybe my semen is the last hope for the world, maybe it isn’t. I don’t know, quite frankly, I don’t really care. It wasn’t my fault there aren’t anymore kids. I don’t feel like I’m responsible for making any. If my sperm even works that is.

The past three years have been interesting. Living on my own. Sleeping under bridges. In alleys. Where ever I can. Stealing a bite to eat. Trying to stay off the grid. The entire world knows me. Well, they knew me three years ago. I’ve changed a bit since then. There are search teams with the last known pictures of me of when I was 13. Black hair that has since been shaved. Kinda chubby, I lost a few pounds. Cute, boyish face. Now I could almost pass for a 21 year old. Almost. I’ve get recognized occasionally. Guys want pictures with me. “Look, there’s the youngest guy in the world! How about a picture?” Breaking out their digital cameras like I’m sasquatch. Women are the worst. They hear the stories about how I might be fertile. Trying to sleep with me. Their husbands or boyfriends offering me money to fuck them. Coming up to me with wine glasses and turkey basters. Hoping I’ll jerk off in the glasses, kiss them on the forehead, say something in Latin and tell them to believe in Jesus. Most guys would jump at the chance to sleep with 25-35 year old women. Pretend they have the Genesis Seed so they can get laid. But that’s not what I’m about. Not that anyone will hold up the statutory rape laws that used to exist 4 years ago. They wouldn’t care if my sperm wasn’t broke. Sure, my 16 year old hormones get the best of me at times. A guy can’t always say no. But, I’m careful. Spermicide lubrication. Pulling out and rubbing it in the dirt or into a carpet. Like I said, I don’t need to save the world. I have a purpose. I have a destiny. But it’s not to knock up thousands of would-be soccer moms. I’m looking for someone. The owner of the bloodstained cross in my back pack.

Every now and then I pick up a news paper, or a gossip sheet, and I see I’m front page news. I read about how there are man hunts for me. Thousands of people all over the globe looking for me. They’ll arrest anyone who has seen me and doesn’t give them information. Those papers and magazines call me The Last Child. Kid Omega. The Hope. The Demon Seed. Johnny Genetics. The Man With The Golden Sperm. Anything that will make a good headline. Not that my real name isn’t headline worthy. My mom, ironically, named me Revelation. Revelation Tristan Harris. Friends, or at least people who want to try and be hip, just call me Rev.

“Where ya goin’ Rev?” I’ve heard that too many times. Before I’d tell them. Then I realized they’d tell the cops. Then I’d give them wrong directions. Then I decided to start having fun with them. The religious freaks anyway.

“Rev, where are you going?” They’d ask.

My answer would be simple. “To Hell. Or helping someone get there.”

Afterall. I’m a wanted man. And I haven’t even commited a crime. Yet.

Van Garrido, Chapter 1: A Town Built on Silver

The eerie darkness of night falls over the town of Van Garrido. During the day Van Garrido resembles a lively settlers town. People riding through town on horses, waving to the children, most of whom wish to become cowboys or cowgirls themselves. This town is every westerner’s dream. Little to no crime, sheriffs that have their heads on straight and not abusing their power, a saloon that serves the finest whiskey and rum money can buy. Most of all, the 300 or so residents love this town because its cut off from the nonsense of the big cities. In fact, the only time that Van Garrido comes in contact with city slickers is when the government wagons thunder into town to claim Johnny Taxpayer’s share of the silver that’s mined here.

Van Garrido sits on a large silver mine. Not by any means the largest in the state, or even the country, but its enough to keep the residents in good health and wealth. While most of the panhandlers west further west to mine in the huge gold rush, Chester Van Garrido, his family, and a few friends settled on a large plot of land in hopes that they too would strike it rich. After months of digging, lack of food and adequate shelter, Chester found a vein of silver running through the ground. it wasn’t the gold that he was looking for, but it was better than coal. Eventually the Van Garrido’s made enough money from their silver mining that they built a house on their plot of land, as did their friends. As time went on, and those fools’ gold mines petered out, more and more people went to Van Garrido’s silver mine to make enough money to get back to the homes that they left for the gold rush. Many people mined enough silver to get to wehere they were going, but a few stayed. Eventually the silver mines started to thin out, more people left the land, but Van Garrido was determined to find silver again, and he did.

The silver vein that Van Garrido and the others were mining lead to another larger vein, and then another, even larger one. Old timers of the town say the silver veins must travel all around the settlement. Extending several meters out from the furthest house. Pure silver too, perhaps the cleanest in country, depending on who you ask. All this silver will take decades and decades to mine, maybe even centuries as long as no government types try to horn in on the fortune that Chester Van Garrido founded. It seems, however, as long as they get their share, they could careless what goes on in the town.

Chester Van Garrido and his family died many years ago. They now lay in their final resting place, in a graveyard on a small hill to the south of Van Garrido. But his tradition carries on in the small town. His Grandson, Jacob Van Garrido, is the oldest decendant still living in the town. Jacob’s age is catching up with him, however. At 63 Jacob lived long enough to see his son Tully, and his grandson, Chester Van Garrido’s great-great-grandson, Kip both grow up and begin working in the mines. Very few people in this town ever leave, and even fewer come into stay. It’s dozens and dozens of miles away from anything else that could be considered a town. Very few people other than the government and a handful of others even know about Van Garrido or the silver mines below it. The inhabitants of Van Garrido like it that way, too.

The nights of Van Garrido are very different. They are dark, disturbingly quiet and rather chilly. All citizens of the town are in their beds before 10 PM every night. There is no rules or curfew, but the businesses close at 9 PM and there isn’t much left to do. But this night there is one small soul still stirring around the outskirts of town. One charming and silent little girl, the youngest Van Garrido in town, Molly Van Garrido.

For whatever reason, the fifteen year old Molly cannot sleep. She needed to get out of her house to breathe some fresh air. In the strangely bright moonlight Molly saw a patch of the most beautiful yellow buttercups near the forest, adjacent to the grave site her Great Great Grandfather is burried in. While she is out of the town, the building and streets are still in plain view. She could skip her way back home in no time, in the case that her mother wakes up and begins to scream her name in vocal worry.

Putting a few buttercups in her hair, Molly skips around pretending to be the most beautiful girl in all the world. Molly’s world is simply no wider than Van Garrido, as she has never left the town, but that was all the bigger that Molly needed the world to be. She new everyone in town on a first name basis. She would always sit on the porch of her parents home cheerfully telling them about all the beautiful patches of flowers around the town, or explaining in wide-eyed detail all of the wonderful dreams she had. If anyone in town was feeling somber, all they had to do is listen to Molly for a few minutes. The listener would quickly forget his or her woes the moment they saw Molly’s perfect smile. Molly was in some ways a therapist to many of the townsfolk. If an older person of the town missed their long deceased spouse, or if a woman felt neglected due to her husband’s long hour in the mines, or even if another girl or boy Molly’s age complained about the overall boredom of Van Garrido, listening to the young girl’s description of her favorite flowers made them notice the beauty of life, and soon their frowns were erased. Indeed, Molly was the adorable epitomy of innocence, the brightest smile in all of Van Garrido.

Molly continued to skip around the edge of the forest, stopping to pick up a colorful flower here and there. Even in the light the full moon was providing, the forest was pitch black. So dark that it would seem to drown out the light of a thousand candles. There was a path through tthe middle of the dense trees. It was used manly by the government wagons that rode into town once a month, but also used if one of the residents needed to take a horse into the nearest town to pick up supplies. While the clear cut, narrow road wasn’t often used, it stayed worn. Two thin lines of dirt with a long streak of sparse grass in the middle, definently used by something with wheels. The path itself was lighted fairly better than the forest on each side. Molly grew more and more brave and skipped along the path. Normally she was scared of the dark and the unknown dangers that may be lurking in it. But the bright yellow buttercups along the way made her brave. After all, flowers were the most beautiful creation in the world, there was no need to be afraid of anywhere that flowers could grow.

She bent over and plucked a flower and put it in the tiny bouquet she was making to put in a glass next to her night stand. With every flower and every step deeper down the trail Molly looked over her shoulder to make sure her home was not out of site.

She bent over to snap off another buttercup and froze. the simplest, quietest snapping of a twig a few feet into the forest to her left seemed to drain all life out of her. Molly herself barely weighed enough to snap a twig, so whatever made that sound couldn’t be smaller than her, at least not by much. All movement in her stopped as well, even her heart felt like is was frozen in fear. She couldn’t, and didn’t want to move. Maybe whatever that was didn’t see her, or if it already saw her, maybe if she stood still it would lose interest. Seconds that slugged on like minutes past. She mustered the strength and courage to make the tiniest movement she could. Her eyes went from the flower pinched between her fingers to as far left as they would go. Whatever it was was still there and slowly moving towards tha path she was on.

She heard another twig crack, several feet closer to her. She could hear, almost feel, the rustling of feet on grass and leaves. It was inching it’s way closer. Molly could see the shadowy figure of some sort of animal, just outside of the pale moonlight. It stopped. Molly hoped that it would start heading the opposite direction. But it didn’t. It pounced out from behind the darkness into the middle of the path. The sudden, lightning fast movement startled Molly who spun around, towards it, and burst out in laughter at the sight of the littlest baby deer she had laid eyes on.

Her heart started beating again as she caught her breath and watch the big bad three-foot tall monster that has been stalking her. Her giggling slowed to a stop only to start again as the tiny fawn hoped around in circles, trying to have fun with the strange human that’s roaming around it’s forest at night.

“What?” Molly asked between giggles. “You wanna play?”

The deer answered by hopping towards Molly and then backwards to where it was. The little animal sprinted a few feet away from Molly, stopped, look back, and ran towards her. Molly took this as an invitation to a game of chase the cute deer. The deer sprinted a few more feet as Molly gave chase. Instead of stopping the fawn kept going until only its white spots and tail could be seen. Molly gave up the chase against the lighting fast deer. She then heard the deer’s little hooves take off towards her again. It must be chase the cute human time. Molly started playfully running away from the deer. Her laughter could be heard in town, which she was very far away from now. Molly only got a fraction of the distance with the baby deer’s superior speed catching up to her.

“Aw, you caught me!” Laughed Molly as the deer stopped and looked up at her with it’s big eyes that were more full of life than any she has seen.

The deer motioned to her to chase it again.

“OK, just one more time. I’ve got to get going home.” Molly explained, not really knowing how deep down the path she was.

The deer took off even faster than before. Molly ran a few meters after it, but it wasn’t long before it was completely out of sight. Molly listened to its footsteps going away from her. Eventually there was no more sound. The baby deer either stopped or ran so far away that it couldn’t be heard. Molly waited a minute to see if her new playmate was coming back. It didn’t. Molly was disappointed but shrugged it off. It must have ran back to mamma deer. She thought to herself. She needed to be heading home anyway.

She was slightly upset at the fact that she unknowingly took herself almost a half mile down the path. She must have chased the fawn farther than she though. It just gave her more time to pick flowers. Which she did when she needed a break from skipping.

She walked on for five minutes, she could see Van Garrido at the end of the straight path again. She decided that her handful of flowers was plenty enough for a bedside bouquet. Then she heard footsteps behind her, it was the baby deer darting at her, faster than ever. She giggled as she picked up her pace. She figured the deer just gave her a huge headstart since it caught her so fast last time. Molly didn’t get to her sixth step when the fawn bolted by her.

“Hey!” Molly playfully shouted. “Too fast! I’m back here.”

It was of no use. The deer was already past the first house in Van Garrido and still sprinting through town. She slowed her pace back to her normal walking speed as she watched the fawn run through the farms on the other side of town, getting strange looks from the bovine community that resided there.

She was almost out of the forest, she could see the mist surrounding the graveyard hill. Then she felt something. Some kind of vibration. Van Garrido has never had an earthquake or any kind of explosion in the mines as they never used T.N.T. Something else was causing the ground to shake,from behind her. getting frightened she picked up her stride. The shaking wasn’t getting fainter, and she could hear something behind her. She turned around as the air left her lungs and saw a large shadowy figure charging at her, straight down the path, big as a grizzly, if not larger. She didn’t bother with the no moving technique and sprinted out of the forest towards the silent town.

Whatever is chasing her wasn’t afraid of the town and had it’s sights set on the little girl. Molly got nearer and nearer to the closest house as the unknown beast got nearer and nearer to her. Molly dropped her handful of flowers and it was stepped on by her stalker the second it hit the ground. Molly could hear it snorting and feel it breathing right behind her as she past the first house.

Molly was taken down hard to the ground. Not by the beast pouncing on her, but it running into her. Molly landed on her back and immediatly tried getting back up. Molly was swatted by the thing and knocked back down. In her dizzyness she could see a gigantic wolf-like creature trying to get back to its feet. it had dark grey hair growing out of its back, on it’s legs and down it’s chest. It was bigger than a grizzly, much bigger. It had a large, hairy mane coming out of its neck and around it’s demonic head. It had a long thin snout and a mouth full of razor-sharp fangs.

It lunged and snapped at Molly. But it was too far away, and it seemed way too weak. It’s hind legs were stretched out behind it and it was pushing itself up with its forelegs. This wolf-like creature was acting erratic. It was making a strange noise, almost barking, but almost coughing, like it couldn’t breathe. It’s front claws dug deep into the dusty ground, shakingly lifting itself up. Molly didn’t want to wait to find out what it was planning to do when it got up. She sprung to her feet and ran to her house.

Molly looked over her shoulder when the beast started making a gargling, or drowning sound. The beast was back on all four of its feet, but still shaky. It shook its hear the way dogs would when something in their ear bothered them. The gorwling, gargling sound returned. The monstrosity vomited a torrent of maroon liquid. Molly knew what ever it was tried to kill her. But she hated seeing anything in pain, even if it just saw her as food. She stopped running, she was far enough away from it now.

The thing heaved another splash of dark red goo from its mouth. It started stumbling. It looked like, from Molly’s distance, that it was bleeding from its eyes and ears. It dry heaved again, only a small tickle of blood expelled from its mouth as it collapsed on it’s chest. The giant wolf moaned and coughed once more before all movement from it ended. Molly took a long look at it once more, lying in a pool of it’s own blood and vomit. Molly was getting sick to her stomach. She should have stayed in her bed. That was exactly where she was going to stay for a while.

She found herself at her front door, no flowers, no smiles, only the pale look of worry and fright. She went inside and directly to her bedroom. She climbed in and pulled the blankets tightly over the top of her head. She wanted this night to be over, she didn’t want to be reminded of that thing, or it’s death, or her near death for that matter. She laid motionless in her little cacoon and fell asleep.