AntiGod 2 Turning Droughts

Date: 12/07/09; Time: 5:43 am; Place: Chicago

As the sun set, and the artificial lights took over the bustling city, rarely would one find a street that was not being walked upon… And if one found such a street, that would be one place one would never want to go to. And this was what Henry Bloom realized facing a divide in his path, swallowed in absolute darkness. Silence, as eerie as it could be, contrasting with the bustle of traffic about 10 yards behind him, collided in the estuary of sound there where he was standing. He couldn't help but curse his not so good luck for the twenty third time, standing at the interface, feeling apprehensive about going ahead, yet too tired to take the longer route. He had no choice but to give into his laziness and move on, remembering his first (and the last) visit to a haunted house in an amus.e.m.e.nt park…

"That wasn't frightening, but this surely is!!!" Gulping down his fear, he moved as quickly as his body could manage, still suffering from fever while his mind cursed the guys who caused the lights to stay off in the alley (as always).

Henry, 21 years of age, 5ft 11'' height, medium built, studying literature at Richardson University, catcher in his college baseball team, had been used to this path to go back to his apartment each evening from college practice, and didn't mind the darkness. But right now, he just couldn't help feeling uneasy for some unknown reason.

Somehow, he managed to reach the end of the path, walking a mere 80 meters (a few turns included), and heaved a sigh of relief at the sight of the usual lively traffic about 10 meters away.

But, it was then that he heard footsteps, quick, strong, but almost unperceivable. And strangely, he couldn't get where they were coming from, in spite of having a great knack for the same since birth, and improvised upon due to his 'active' life. It was just when he was about to step upon the roadside footpath when a hand clasped his shoulder, gloved, strong, and commanding, followed by a voice which almost took the life out of him. Nothing scary in it, but for some unknown reason (again), his legs gave away, his breath felt airless, and his body didn't seem to understand the fact that it was supposed to be falling over in the state it had come to.

"I love this effect, you know?" A male voice laughed, and Henry could swear that the cars and people at the street were still, absolutely still. So was he, although that was simply because he couldn't feel his body enough to move it.

"Don't mind that, really." The voice again laughed lightly," You should think sometimes about what you are, and where you are heading to…Not because you can change it…" The voice laughed, and as the hand vanished from his shoulder and the traffic suddenly woke up to their ferocious speed and intensity, he heard the voice again, "but just to have something worth… to think about!"

A cold laughter, bringing back the feeling again, echoed and faded into the blaring of the traffic. Henry looked at his watch, and he found it was spinning like crazy.

…

1:00 a.m., a time when one would rarely find anyone walking down the Brighton street, except someone having trouble finding his way back home after a night at a nearby pub. So obviously, it was strange enough to find a hooded figure walking pretty sensibly while giving off a feeling of absolute control, yet having a vagueness that would be indescribable even to oneself.

Every step that the figure took was measured to the point, but if one had their consciousness awake enough to notice, which was unnervingly not the case , the figure was actually stepping above the ground. The feet seemed to be weirdly warped, partially and sometimes fully, or at other times, giving an illusion that they were crus.h.i.+ng the air itself under them. It almost seemed like each step was extremely restrained, yet the figure was barely able to prevent something from happening that was out of the limits of what even semantics could describe.

But still, all the perceivable restraint could not prevent a sense of desolation to permeate in the whole area, as if everything that was visible was illusionary, including the life and vitality itself, that a spectator, if there were one, would have taken for granted in him or herself

Even stranger was the fact that he was suddenly joined by three more hooded figures, all of them kneeling down in front of him and talking in hushed tones, or to be precise, in strange whispering sounds. The sounds seemed to be a part of a language that was nowhere near anything used anywhere in the world, be it in terms of the phonetics or syntax, or... absolutely anything at all. They could be translated roughly into a few panic filled sentences.

"The ribbon is broken, Sire."

"The guards are both confounded, Sire… They do not even understand anything anyone says."

"We are not able to trace anything in that whole dimension… nothing at all, Sire"

"Well, well… Isn't this a bit too convenient now? I would say, at the expense of sounding clichéd… Do you have anything to add, Morpheus?" The standing figure said with a slight snicker, before another figure appeared in the group.

"Sire, this one just wanted to humbly suggest that it is not advisable to engage in that kind of contact within this dimension, and that too with a human. I mean, it's almost like advertising Your Almighty Self to the cosmos."

"Oh well… yes, maybe," the standing figure said in a thoughtful voice, a voice which the listener would feel had the power to pierce one's soul and just dissipate it. "But, I don't think anyone here has a chance of recognizing me, unless I 'formally' introduce myself." He said with a slight, dark, and mischievous smile under his mask.

"Yes, Sire," said Morpheus while shuddering, as he felt the weakening effect of that smile on his soul.

"Tell me one thing… why are you guys so worried about the ribbon breaking down? It's supposed to be taken care of by Thanatos and Hades… So, why bother me when those two will not be knowing about it until another Earth hour? If you really think things are that bad, why isn't anyone in Olympus stirring up?" The standing figure sighed, his words unhurried, releasing a commanding presence as he turned away from the four of them.

"Sire, the thing is that..." One of them started explaining when the one named Morpheus interrupted, "Sire, I know it's not worth worrying about what happens to the ribbon or anything that even Thanatos can see to, and certainly Hades can as well... But, it's the manner in which this has happened," At this point, the one he was referring to tilted his head towards him, "And, even more importantly, the Olympians didn't even know that anything of such dire consequences had happened..."

"I know that quite well, Morpheus." He interrupted coldly, "It's worth examining, maybe…But… why should I…" the pressure of the last word almost made the four kneeling figures lose all their strength, " …get in front of the Olympians when this can be sorted out for the time being without that? I'll wait, and of course, I may have to get on It at some point, considering how disappointing a certain 'Someone's' ideas of relieving boredom can be at times. But… it'll be better, without any doubt," he said while eyeing the four of them," …for you to keep it up without me getting involved in it." And with a cold laughter that shook them to their very cores, he vanished into the darkness.

After a minute of silence, the four figures stood up as Morpheus said, his voice layered with frustration and anxiety, "I am seeing this happen for the second time, and the consequences were d.a.m.ning enough back then to not allow me to leave it to those twelve fools to manage it alone. It's too soon to happen again, and I don't have any d.a.m.n idea what She's up to now… But, whatever it is, it's not leading anywhere near a surprise welcome party, that's for sure."

And then, amidst a sudden gust of wind and dust, the four of them disappeared just like their master, leaving the street with its flickering lights, emptiness, and the illusion of a desolate existentialism.

…

A hooded figure was strolling in a void, which one would a.s.sume at first glance to be outer s.p.a.ce. But, there were no stars or other heavenly bodies or objects… It was literally a void, but subjected to the same illusionary effect due to the stroll of the hooded being.

"I can't spoil His fun now, can I? After all, He never expected my existence, or even wanted it, as a matter of fact… But, who gives a sh*t in the whole of 'existence'…" murmured the hooded man in a tone filled with playfulness. "…I am His brother after all… His eternal antagonist"