User blog:Alcadabra/Chapter 2

Chapter two

The void enveloped him, which he oddly took comfort in. His eyes couldn’t make out anything, not even phantom shapes, so he lost track of how long or far he had fallen. He felt at ease, the air cool but not cold, he started to relax, then he hit. He let out a moan and reached down to feel the soft, slightly damp ground he had hit. It felt some sort of plant, he pulled some up to look at. “Peat?” He also realized he could see again. It was night, and he was now looking up at stars and a full moon. Eyes used to the pitch black, easily adjusted.

“Really? Twice in one day?” He sat up as something hard struck him on the head. A stream of angry curses followed before he bit his tongue to keep whatever may be here from hearing him. He looked over and saw his staff. Staggering, he snagged the staff, and headed for some trees, mentally cursing and rubbing his head with his free hand. Hidden, he tenderly rubbed the growing goose egg as he noticed a quick movement. He watched as a human form was running on all fours swiftly, and surprisingly adept. The figure ran to the indention that he had left, and started to “sniff” around causing the hair to raise on his neck.

‘Shit’, he thought and retreated deeper into the woods, he could make out a lithe form, breasts, and possibly a long tongue. ‘Repressed sexual urges, I’m probably in my own mind… that’s why I haven’t seen any men, males or any damn thing with testosterone. I’ve finally snapped. Well, that  isn’t much of a surprise.’

The woods were eerie, without leaves and with the strange twisted shapes that one might find in an old folk tale. The occasional sound of an owl, toad or something unseen moving kept him on alert, although he was more home here than he was at his work. The old Spanish moss that hung from the trees gave it that last bit of enjoyable creepiness that he was now convinced he had gone insane. He spotted a fire, and on closer inspection he spotted what seemed to be a human man sitting, enjoying the warmth and some food. He decided to boldly walk forward, his staff giving him confidence.

“Greetings? Mind if I ask a few questions?” he ventured, the man looked up, the milky whiteness of his eyes bespoke of his misfortune.

“Come by the fire, I will attempt to enlighten you,” the older man, perhaps by a decade, chuckled and licked his fingers.

“Where am I? I hope you’re more informative than a Cheshire cat.” The old man chuckled, and seemed unworried of any threat that his guest might pose.

“Depends on what information you want. You must have come from above, Wonderland. And this, is Underland,”

“Yeeeah. The dark version of Wonderland… So, werewolves, vampires, ghouls and what else have you?” he asked sarcastic disbelief. He soundlessly thanked his best friend for coming up with the idea for his haunted house. He would have expected being in the Asylum, upon going mad.

“You’ve been here before?”

“Crap, okay, since I have an idea how to get out of Wonderland, how do you get out of Underland? I had thought to stay awhile, but it seems to have higher stakes here,” he asked wondering if either one was better. At least he felt at home here, too many years of scaring others.

“You’ll have to go visit the White Queen, she’ll let you return to the realm above, perhaps,” he cackled with the earnest glee of a mad man.

“White Queen… Death?”

“No, but she is here too, she might help. Or not. The Lady walks here, when she’s not busy somewhere else. She is her own mistress,” he said wistfully as he tore into what might have been rabbit, or raccoon, or possum, or any other number of nocturnal animals.

“Worth… exploring here?”

“What an odd question. How would you determine its worth? This is where darkness rules, not evil mind you, darkness,” the blind man stated sagely.

“I’m used to that, perhaps more at home in it than the light,” came the reply.

“If you don’t mind being hunted, and enjoying the more … cardinal pleasures that go on at night. You should be alright, you sound young enough” he cackled again, this time causing hairs to stand on end.

“I’ve noticed there seems to be a bent toward sex here, not exactly like the stories.” He patted the hairs down but shifted to make a fast getaway, as this felt more like a distraction, or trap.

“Children, Alice was a child, you are a fully grown, mature adult…” again he cackled, causing his guest to shift uncomfortably.

‘Who’s mature? Damn this adulting stuff,’ he kept the quips to himself. “So, which direction to the White Queen?”

“Doesn’t matter, she will find you…” he looked up once again and there was an unnatural light to his eyes growing with the mania of his cackling.

The man rose to his feet for all the laughter was bound to get something’s attention. Whatever it was with the long tongue might have caught up by now. He gave a little shiver with the thought. He tried to thank the old man, but couldn’t seem to be heard over the insane chortles.

He moved with a quickness of a man half his age, he was breathing heavy, but he needed to put distance between him, the creature, and the old man. The thicket he found was dense enough to hide him, while still allowing him to peer out. He had pulled his presence close to him, few would have felt him, even less would have seen him without a light and knowledge of  where to look. It wasn’t more than ten minutes when a trio of creatures lopped by. He held  his breath as they hit the end scent trail. Attractive, but given the long tongues, sharp teeth and bestial nature, he concluded they were some sort of ghoul. They looked around trying to find him, for the scent had just suddenly stopped and they were cunning creatures.

He found the fur bikinis and loincloths look amazingly appealing, and he started to think about their chasing him, tackling him and, doing whatever they would do to him. Sniffing this way and that, they peered behind tree and bush, one even climbing up into one of the trees. All the while he grew more anxious, he took deep breaths to calm himself, so his scent of fear wouldn’t give him away.

“Where did he go?”

“I can smell him”

“Did he double back? Sneaky, we’ll have to check. Haven’t been on a good hunt for some time,” said one, as she thrust her long, clawed fingers into the thicket and just missed grabbing his hair.

“He didn’t look too big,” said one with dirty blond hair.

“It’s not the size…” said the second one with green hair.

“It’s how much stamina,” said the third, who seemed to be the leader, causing them all to laugh. She was too close for him to see her hair color despite the dark, then he noticed that they started to reach under their loin cloths. He could feel the blush as they moaned and groaned right in front of him, like he was spying on the girl’s locker room. A heady scent filled the air, again he felt the strong urge to betray his own hiding spot. As the third reached her climax, the leader ordered “Take a side, so we don’t miss where he left the trail.” After a short argument they rushed away back into the darkness.

He crawled from his hiding spot, he figured he had bought himself about five to eight minutes before they realized he hadn’t doubled back. If he had been in a better frame of mind, he might have congratulated himself, but the smell made him think of his troubles with his marriage, it made him melancholy. The part of him that tried to spur him into the role of the prey was muted, he finally slipped off through the bracken, at least he could try not to disappoint them.

Judging time was difficult, as far as he could tell the moon had not moved since he had arrived. His footsteps that were just a rustle as he moved as he halfhearted tried to trick his pursuers. A small creek that blocked his path reminded him that he needed to drink, and to deal with the horrid dry mouth that his medications caused. Without pot, matches or fire, he couldn’t boil it, and despite his mental warnings of not to eat or drink in a Fey realm, he drank directly from the river. His reflection showed his greying hair, the white of his beard, the lines of face, and the deep pain of his eyes. He caught the briefest glint of adventure in those eyes, a spark he thought was all but gone. He tried to smile but the best he could achieve was a slight smirk. He didn’t worry about his age, but the visage that looked back had lost so much of its spark that he had trouble recognizing himself. As he looked on with a sense of loss, he became aware of a jagged scar over his right eye, as his eyes turned a bright yellow with red rims. That’s when it began.

His back arched as muscles violently contracted, he desperately resisted crying out, making more of a whimper, his eyes watered and his body erupted in sweat. He thrashed upon the bank of the creek, little more than grunts escaping as he struggled for breath, his vision blurring to the point he expected to pass out. He fell to his arms and knees as something emerged from his back, a grotesque butterfly splitting out of its cocoon. There stood above the panting form, an identical likeness. Dark of countenance and hair, a jagged scar over the right eye, splitting into a y on his cheek. He stood in a grey top hat, tarnished silver tux jacket with tails, red shirt, teal brocade vest and black tie. A cane was clutched in his black rubber gloved hand. He straightened his tie and looked down with a glare of only the greatest contempt. “How I have longed to emerge from your wretched shell,” he stated with a southern drawl, perhaps from west Tennessee.

“Why, bless your heart, who would have known by coming here we would finally be able to trade words in the flesh,” he snidely said with mock civility. “My, you do get worked up, don’t you?” he said then looked around, “Well, doesn’t this seem to be a nice place to look around.”

“You…” the crumpled mass growled.

“Yes, me, your dark side you might say. You must feel all sorts of better now that I’m out of there. Professor Rathbone Dark at your service, but then again, you knew that,” the southern gentleman suddenly rocked back, his hat scattered as the mass assembled to land a sold uppercut. The attacker fell back, as if struck by an invisible force.

“How uncivil Sir! As you can feel, any injury to me also injures yourself,” he touted as he blocked a right hook and slammed his cane head into the unprotected midriff. “I on the other hand, am not held to such inconveniences.”

“Excellent,” came the reply as the Professor tried to defend his own midriff, only to have it followed up with a second right hook that sent him staggering with the force of anger behind it. A second blow to the face kept him reeling as the man tried to ignore the unseen blows that had split his cheek and lip, sending blood splattering.

“Away…” shouted the Professor, his cane whistling with each blow. Despite most of his blows connecting, they did not dissuade the fury that kept him from using his magic. Hands gripped around his throat and he felt the surge as they closed off blood and air, “…you’ll die too.”

A nod was all he had to reply, he wasn’t sure how long he could hold his breath, while he strangled himself to death. They were both cunning, but now the end of the cane dug into his side, between two ribs. He let out a cry of pain, but it was like he was far away from his own voice, he realized he was blacking out. Pain and need for oxygen made him lose his grip, as he fell to his knees, gasping, he heard the Professor pant out, “Under…estimated… your anger… and the … willingness… to… punish yourself.”

The Professor attempted to gain his feet but the man was faster, knocking him prone. Loathing flowed like lava burning away pain, giving rise to a white hot fury. Each blow fell on both, the hammer and anvil of the gods. His hands had gone numb and his face was now distorted from his own blows. He was becoming weaker, unable to fight further, he tried to force himself to finish the job but the Professor, who was now in better shape, knocked him off with a cane strike alongside the head.

The Professor staggered to his feet, unwilling to deal with self-sacrificing rage and unused to physical altercations, quickly retreated into the woods. He worked his jaw, and turned back to deal with any pursuit, but none was forthcoming. He snarled at having been so rudely and primitively treated, but even more infuriating was that he hadn’t taken into account that the man would strike out at the very image of himself with such primal ferocity. The Professor was only released one month out of the year, and now he had been usurped by some figure named Cyrus, a petty complaint yes, but Rathbone Dark would survive, and better yet, thrive. He would figure out his revenge.

The man tried to rise to give chase, to end the both of them, but his body wouldn’t listen. He pitched forward, gasping into the leaf litter, trying to will strength to return, the pain that he had inflicted and had been inflicted came crashing down on him like a toppled rock wall.

Unnoticed forms converged on the prone man, they licked their lips and were in no hurry as he seemed he had incapacitated himself for them. Sharp teeth smiled as they encircled him, only to be scattered as two powerful forms strode toward  them, as they demanded attention with a mere “Ahem.”

They looked down at him, as he lifted his head to denote a pair of clawed feet, a rich burgundy, scaled, definitely reptilian and a pair of black slippers attached to shapely legs that were the bluish white of someone who’s blood had ceased to run. He didn’t bother to look higher, he liked feet, at least women’s feet or he used to have a fetish, but it seemed to have disappeared at some point. Besides looking higher seemed to have too much pain connected to it to be worth the bother. Both seemed to be women, he wasn’t entirely sure about the scaled feet, but he had a feeling they were. Well, if he was caught, they could do anything they wanted with him, he didn’t have the energy to fight or run. He smiled through the taste of his own blood, quietly impressed with the amount of hurt he had doled out to himself, an all-time personal best. He sighed as he realized just how twisted he had become, besides women liked men who were bold and had aggressive tendencies, didn’t they? He wondered if they had ever seen Fight Club.