A Message From Wreybies: To the Forum, In the spirit of being a writing forum, the Golden Orb Game is getting a revamp. No more will one line pwning suffice for this game. One line pwnage will be deleted. You must write a decent scene between you and the prior poster. You may write in any style that pleases you. Romance, Science Fiction, Fantasy, Western, Adventure, Occult, Steampunk, Stitchpunk, Preternatural Vampire Western, whatever your heart desires, but write you must with creativity. The basic concept is that you get the Golden Orb from the prior poster. No murder or graphic violence. Think of it as an RPG with no strings attached. Now Play! **************************************************** First, there was nothing. Then, there was still nothing. At last, nothing became more nothing. This went on for roughly 3.1 Billion years. Eventually nothing got bored of being nothing and so it created the universe. But, after the first couple of aeons, Nothing got bored of The Universe and so it sent a small golden orb into the void, to serve as a catalyst for Nothing's amusement. The orb sparked wars, destroyed worlds and even made Goerge Bush intelligent for a brief moment, but this change were overridden almost immediately. Eventually, Nothing began to lose interest in The Orb. Sure, interplanetary conficts and massive acts of genocide was fun to watch, but it all became a bit... samey. And so, Nothing sent its own agent of amusement, a creation that it dubbed Xeno. Xeno was two metres tall, covered in thick body armour and was hurled towards the location of The Orb at terrifying speeds. It plummeted through the atmosphere directly onto Waerjak, obliterating him instantly. The creature picked itself up from the ground and stood with the Orb in its hand, waiting for more challengers to appear, so that it may amuse its master. My. Orb. Now.
I've been working as a detective for the Los Angeles police department for nineteen years. I'm the top detective in my squad. I walk to the door. Losthawken answers. "Yes?" he asks. "I'm looking for the owner of this well known orb. Is he here?" "Yes sir, that's me. But before you accuse me of stealing the orb, I want you to read the previous post, and see that, following the rules of the game, I got the orb fair and square." "So it is your orb, and no one else's?" "That's what I said. My orb." I slap the cuffs on him and force him to the ground. "You're under arrest for the murders of librarian Lenard Lenny, old lady Pinkston Pinky, and cab driver Wentworth Logg. We have evidence tying their deaths to the owner of the orb. We also have reason to believe you've been cloning dinosaurs, in violation of section 2458 ordinance Z. You'll be doing hard time for this." "Wait! You can't do this." "Tell it to the judge," I say, picking up the orb. "I'll just lock this in the evidence room." My orb.
As Charlie returns to the police station and is taking in the applause of his amoeba like work mates, i watch from the shadows. Trying not to breath i closely follow Charlie to the evidence room as he prepares to deposit the orb. He hesitates, holding the orb in his hand and quietly chuckling to himself. The madness caused by this infernal orb must cease. I creep up behind Charlie and perform a swift Bourne-like takedown that leaves Charlie unconscious and missing a pocket. I grab the orb, resolute in my reasoning that i alone must bear the burden of its insufferable power. I am saving humanity... MY ORB!
Soujiroseta. I'd been tracking him for years. Murderer, pyschopath, fugitive. It had been three years since he'd escaped from the asylum, taking the lives of two nurses and no less than five guards on his way. He hadn't been an easy target to follow, but throughout his journey he had twisted the lives of many innocents with his preachings of doom. Those were the ones I had to follow and they'd led me right to him. Pah I watched the spittle fall the seven stories, disappearing from vision before it was even halfway. Focus. The rooftop had been my home for the last four days, but I would soon be leaving this place. If the prophet was right, and he was never wrong, Soujiroseta would be arriving right about now. Yes! There he was. I watched him through the scope enter the police station. It wouldn't be long now. It wasn't. He emerged 4 minutes later, clutching the Orb. This was it. I lowered my eye again to the scope. I could see Soujiroseta clearly now, as clearly as if he was stood inches away. The traffic noise faded away, I took two breaths and held a third. He didn't have time to scream. Instant death. If a man was to die, there was no need for suffering. I quickly packed up my gear and headed down the fire escape. Landing on the concrete below, I quickly surveyed the area. Killing a man outside a police station was pretty risky, but Soujiroseta had melted away before. The opportunity had been there and had to be taken. I sprinted across the road to the still warm corpse. There, on the floor besides him was the Orb. I glanced behind me again before picking it up. I had it. MY Orb!
I am Ramael. Felled angel and miscreant. I have but one passion and that is to exact vengeance upon that which felled me. The Orb. The Choir Mistress who led me astray. From my vantage point which can be thought of as up but which answers to no direction describable in three dimensional space, I watched Her call to yet another hapless fool. If only they understood her true motive and power perhaps they might stab out their ears to avoid her song. They do not, thus they dance to her music. As do I. I unfurled my wings causing stars to die and others to be born and swooped down into the realms of man. The scene was painfully familiar. One man lay dead on the ground, his life spilled out onto the concrete. Another hunkered over him. A vulture on the plains of the Serengeti looking for the choicest morsel. And the morsel was very choice indeed. Her song struck chords and colors and scents which stroked the soul in an indecent manner. Would this man see my wings? Would he know what I am? Would it matter? Would anything other than the thrall under which he now danced even register? I placed a hand made of time and the energy which binds together that fool's gold which men call solid matter upon his shoulder. “Rise up. Walk away from her.” I know my words are futile, but my heart needs to hear them. “What the-?!” The man’s neck turned in a manner that seemed uncomfortable, his body refusing to turn from Her. “She will bring you only grief. Her love is selfish.” Again, useless. Again, the words are more for me than anyone else. His eyes squinted and tried to focus on something just behind me. Ah, yes. He saw, but only dimly. With a part of his mind not accustomed to taking in information from his eyes. Poor humans. So badly wired. If the Creators had but taken a bit more time in their creation perhaps they might live a little longer, a little better, a little happier. “Get the fu-. What are-? Do you have wi-?” The phrases drop from his tongue, each unfinished. Unrectifiable. “Sleep, child. This tale is not for you. Sleep and wake with the knowledge that you have known things beyond mortal men. Go tomorrow and start a movement or a religion. Make it one based on love. True love. And mercy. Like the mercy I show you now by relieving you if that burden. You know not what you do. Sleep.” I waved my hand for show and he slumped next to the dead man and slept. With a downbeat that caused rivers to flow in retrograde direction I lifted into the ether. She was mine again. The pain and the joy comforted me. My Orb.
With dedication that could move planets and recklessness that had cost me my life more than once, I flung myself at Ramael as he faded. I passed through the being, feeling the cold air hit my face as I reached for the one thing that still resided in my reality. The Orb. Ramael had underestimated the power of this device, for it was resisting his attempts to rip it from its own reality and welcomed my loving embrace. I grabbed it from his hand and kept running. Not knowing how long it would take Ramael to return, running seemed to be the only action available if I wanted to escape with my life. I would keep running until my legs screamed in pain and my heart pumped battery acid. Then I would run some more. A strange feeling isn't it, when you plan something out right up to a certain point, only to realise that you've got no idea what to do next? It's almost like throwing yourself into an ocean to escape a wall of fire, then wondering how you're going to breathe. You then have to make a choice, whether to continue regardless, or whether to... THUD Ramael stood before me, bathing the surroundings in a bright light. His hands had shaped into claws, but his face wore a disturbingly content look. I got the feeling that this was more for show than anything else. "Give her to me." His voice was silent, yet it was louder than anything I'd ever heard. It was as if he were inside my head, telling me what I should hear. "Her?" My voice sounded like a breath in the wind in comparison, "It's an Orb! It does nothing at all, it serves no purpose! What would someone with your power want with it?" Ramael considered this for a moment, then looked into my eyes. "The same thing you want with her," His eyes burned like the deepest pits of Hell itself, "Now, give her to me!" The Eternal advanced towards me, with a graceful fury that rooted me to the spot. I opened my mouth. I raised my arm. I pointed. "Look! It's an Apple Store!" Ramael yelped with glee and turned on the spot, his glow fading instantly. I started running again. My Orb.
“We meet again, Daniel.” I offered him a cup of fine Darjeeling. “It would seem, Ramael.” He took the cup. “Gracious, as always.” I waved away the compliment. “I am a creature of habit. How have you been?” “Well, thank you. But enough with pleasantries. I assume you are here for the Orb.” Dan sipped the tea and raised one eyebrow in appreciation. “Always to the point, Daniel. Would that you had been so swift with Ezekiel in your conversations with him after he saw the Great Wheel, perhaps Man’s curiosity concerning life in the universe would have already been assuaged.” “Ramael, I won’t be drawn into that subject again. The man had a fondness for Persian poppies. If it wasn’t “The Great Wheel” it would have been som eother nonsense. Anyway, Man is not ready for that information as of yet. His ego is too delicate, too prone to bruise. But enough of this. What goes on now? What game shall we play for the Orb today?” “I find you in a rare mood, Daniel. What gives? If I were still a respectable angel, I wonder if you would treat me so.” “I’ve had enough dealings with your kind to know better. The glow wore off long, long ago.” “She’s been the cause of every major war that Man has had, you know.” “And that’s another thing! All this ‘she, she, she,’ business. What’s that about? And her singing to you? Aren’t we poetic, Ramael.” Daniel placed the Ming Dynasty tea cup on the fifteenth century tea table. Told you before. Creature of habit, I am. “She does sing, Daniel. Your ears are not made to hear this song. Would that you had been born into one of the Choirs, her song would be as clear as day to you.” I let my wings fall behind the Eastlake chair. I cupped my hands before me and blew gently across the palms. There was a whispered sigh that was the breath gone from Daniel’s lungs. It was not his life I was taking. No, not that. It was his innocence. Get your mind out of the gutter. I don’t mean that either. I had whispered to him the very essence of her song and he was lost. Lost in Her thrall. Tears shimmered in his eyes and I felt a pain in my heart that this human had had to hear a sound known only in the heavens and that it should have come from me. “Understand now?” “Yes, you bastard. Why would do that? Why would you let me know that such a thing existed? Will I ever hear that again?” “On the day that you pass the Gates, you will hear that sound again.” My heart was breaking for this man. To know such a thing and then have it taken away was a sin. Daniel broke into sobs. I placed a hand on his head and mussed the spiky hair. He passed Her to me without a word. With a heavy heart, My Orb.
Day expelled of the night as I watched Ramael swiftly carry my now beloved orb into the distance. I've been watching for days how these characters had been arguing over this alluring trinket, but curiosity swiftly unveiled obsession, for I had become the like others I mocked for so long. I wish I could tell you how this happened or how it came to this, but it doesn't really matter now. What matters is my heart's manifesting in a maelstrom of jealousy and desire over something that has been portrayed as holding mystical powers beyond ones imagination. I salivate at the triumph of holding this power in the palm of my hands. Yet the only thing holding me back is this fools' delusive theory that his relationship with this orb is meant to be. Even though I was steadily far behind him, I could feel the smug expression on his face; his uncertain glory and fraudulent fate will come to an end by my victorious act. I followed him close behind while we transcended into the horizon. He suddenly came to a graceful stop and gently turned his head, acknowledging my presence. After a moment of silence between the two of us, his voice whispered then disappeared into the air, "You can't have her." "Her?" He smirked, but said nothing. I took a step closer, inching toward his statuesque frame in response to the passions my heart bellows for my orb. "I know of your wicked thoughts and lucid dreams," he chimes, "but do not tempt me, Jessa. I can take away all your heartache and replace it with something much heavier." I didn't really know what he meant, nor did I care. Angel or not, he did not know my fate. I did. He seemed to understand I wouldn't let up, then turned around to face me, his arm extended with the orb firmly in his clutch. "Believe me or don't, but if you take this orb, grief will rain until death can liberate you. Don't succomb to false hopes that it will relieve you of what little quarrels you have now. It will only thicken them and bring you misery." My heart began to palpitate. "You know NOTHING of my misery," I forced through clenched teeth. "If you are thinking of combining your witchcraft with this orb, it is useless. She is of a different breed of power. One that even I have yet to decode, which is why it is best I take her away from the easily misguided flesh of Man. But you can see for yourself. Go on, take her. I'll get her back and you will see for yourself the consequences you are bringing." I slowly inched my way and extended my hand to his. Eyes flickering to his, then the orb. Without further thought, I grabbed the orb and ran further into the horizon, leaving the mysterious creature behind me to realize he will never see it again. The fool! After a few heavy breaths from flying like a bat out of hell, I used the orb to sceance into the desert sands of The Lizard King, Jim Morrison, for a few shots of whiskey and spiritual guidance. "Nice orb," Jim says in between shots, "Mind if I try it sometime?" I smiled and clutched the orb to my chest, "My orb..." We both chuckled and clinked glasses, downing another triumphant shot.
How he''d gotten here remained a mystery; all he knew is that he was at the a gardening centre in Nottingham about to pay for a set of four vintage Gnomes and then next thing, regaining consciousness in the desert. The midday sun beat down heavy on his face, and he pushed himself to his feet, feeling groggy and a tad delirious from the intense heat. A gnome was half-buried in the sand before him, and as deluded as he was, he believed it was his crown and he, the Ruler of Gnottingham. He took the large gnome from the sand, and placed the hollow opening over his head. As if like magic, the gnome melded itself into his head, becoming a living, breathing whole entity. Should he ever escape this desert, he would be forced forever to decorate gardens but for now, his main concern was survival. Tedium and exhaustion were setting in fast as he traversed the desert. Just over the crest of the sand dune, Mooski saw two people staggering around in what appeared to be drunken stupor. He began to run down the sand dune, flicking sand up at his ceramic face but he didn't care. He was nearly with other people, people who could help him. "Hello!" he shouted at the two, who didn't appear to hear him. At this point, they were both laid out like starfish in the sand, giggling uncontrollably. An empty bottle of whiskey lay between the two, next to a large spherical object that would have blended in with the sand if not for it's surface shimmering in the sun. He walked over and picked up the sphere, shrugged his shoulders, and carried on his slow walk through the desert. "Suppose this is my orb now."
The right side of my face was covered in grit, dust, and sand. I felt it in mouth as I tried to push out the coagulated blood which had settled there. The other side of my face was burned from the merciless desert sun. I had dragged myself to the meager shade of a rock outcropping and still the heat was brutal. The battle had been continent shattering. Earthly historians would note that this was a record year for volcanic eruptions and earthquakes. Though my wings had been ripped from me, my body weighed as though it were made of lead. This mortal flesh, an encumbrance worse than death. Death would be just a moment, a flash. This body was a constantly eroding, corrupting, putrefying, prolongation of that act. Filthy and replete with odors that no language would debase itself to give name. And I waited and prayed -can you imagine that still I would pray!- that some beast of the Earth would show me a kindness and rip from me this pale shadow of what I had once called life. It did not come. Words that were colors and notes of a song that I half remembered came to me from the underside of a disarrayed dream. “Hey, fellah’. You alright?” The rustle of the wind had more meaning than these utterances. I tried to shift so that I might hide my mind from this new facet of my insanity. “Mother of God! You’re in a bad way.” Leave her Holy Name out of this! That thunder you hear in the distance are her divine sobs. I feel a trickle of tepid water run across my lips, turning my mouth to slime as the dried saliva is rehydrated. I cough to clear the gore and sputum. Days pass. This man who is kind to me brings water from a tiny ribbon of stream that runs through a nearby gorge. He has caught desert rabbits and made of them food. He knows the plants which can be eaten and those that will kill or bring madness. He also knows the ones that will bring only the temporary madness which entertains for a while and then passes. He is not a hero or a villain. He is just a man. And he takes care of me as my wounds heal and I regain some strength. I have nothing with which to repay him. Not even conversation. What could I say to him? Me, a fallen angel, now truly fallen and disgraced. Shorn of my wings and immortality. No longer just a punished child. The Choirs of Heaven have shunned me. They have stripped me of all that would link me to them and left me only the memory that I might know what I had been and what I had become and feel the shame of ages weigh upon me like the universe. One day he said to me, “Ramel,” --Is my name so truly difficult to pronounce that he should get it wrong every single time?-- “Ramel, we need to leave here. I think I’ve pretty much hunted out everything I can catch and that stream is quickly turning into just mud. We need to go.” “Fine,” I acquiesce. What does it matter? Here. There. It matters not. Still I will be just this that I am now, regardless of location. And this man has been kind to me. I would not ask him to stay or leave me and bear the shame of it. “Then let us go. I think I can walk well enough now.” “I still can’t believe people would be so cruel as to beat you like that and leave you to die out here.” I gave him a look that stayed off the rest of the conversation. He knew well enough that I will not speak of the angelic battle that left me this way. “Don’t have to much to take, but give me a second to go and dig up something I hid over under that rock, yonder.” He went. I waited. The air was metallic and filled of a broken rock smell. The heat was a thing tangible. He returned. Every hair on my body stood on end. A spike of adrenaline bolted through me so fast and hard that it made my skin hurt. HER! He held Her in his dirty hands. My nostrils flair and I feel faint at the site of Her. Ah, yes. Cruel You are that after I have lost everything You would place Her before me again. A final poignant reminder of what brought me to this lowly state. “You ready?” he asked “Yes.” My eyes never leave Her. “Pretty, ain’t it? I thought it was real gold when I found it, but it don’t weigh enough. Something this big should weigh an awful lot if it were real.” “Yes. Yes, it should. Might I hold it?” “‘Corse. Not really worth anything, I think.” We walk into the wavering horizon. She is in my hand and there is a growing sense that perhaps there is another way to regain what I had lost. If He had turned his face from me, perhaps She would be a kinder master to follow. My Orb.
I lazily lifted my head from the countless desert sands and looked to see Jim passed out with his mouth hanging open. His hands were limp across his chest, as were his feet against the sand. As for myself, I was face down with my hands along my sides. I knew I hadn't moved for hours, hence why my neck was aching like crazy. Waking up was first on my agenda, and the second was to embrace my orb. My beautiful orb! My body slumped against my hands and knees. Maybe I was still a bit drunk. With one eye open, I peeked around briefly to discover it was nowhere in sight! My heart began to thump like popcorn in a tin can. My hands sifted through the grains left and right. But nothing! 'It's gone...' I muttered, desperately. Probably stuttering in a drunken manner. I got up and began to kick the sand around me. Nothing. Maybe it shifted somewhere? No. It had to weigh at least twenty pounds, where could it possibly go? My hands found their way on either side of my head in a frantic motion, 'It's gone!' A mumble turned my attention away as Jim sat up in a sloppy daze. 'What's gone?' he muffled through chapped lips. 'The orb. The orb is gone. Where did it go? Who took it?' I guess I was muttering during this time, for I don't even remember half of the things I were saying. 'Oh...' He apparently didn't seem to care much... 45 minutes later... We climbed to the top of a whirling desert mound. Our eyes were heavy from the lack of sleep. Lips dry from dehydration. Limbs weak from travel. It all seemed pointless until I finally caught sight. And there it was. Again in the arms of my predecessor. The fallen angel. The lonely winged-patron. He walked in a praise of dance as if he was in some sort of whimsical euphoria. 'Do you know him?' Jim chimed, breaking my thoughts. 'I took the orb from him before. Looks like he found me...' Jim scratched his head and turned away, 'So you stole it...' 'He gave it to me.' I snapped, a bit offended. 'Then why would he want it back?' 'It's a story I don't have time to tell right now. Let's just focus on getting it back, please.' He threw his hands in the air in forfeit. I silenced the brief argument and turned my attention back to the angel disappearing in the horizon, like he had done before. 'Who's that frumpy-looking idiot he's travelling with?' Jim chuckled, 'Is that a garden gnome on his head?' 'I don't care who he is...' Jim rolled his eyes at me and laughed again, almost like he was boasting. 'You know that I am dead, right?' 'What's that got to do with anything...' 'I'm not just some ghost you happened to summon to get drunk with in a desert.' Still didn't get it... He rolled his eyes again, then snapped his fingers. In my hands was my orb! Right there! Clear as day! 'How'd you do that!' The exuberance I was feeling couldn't handle my vocal cords. I'm pretty sure I squeaked at some point. 'Close your eyes...' I listened. 'Now picture anywhere in the world you'd rather be...' 'What is this?' 'Every fugitive needs an escape route.' I could hear the cockiness dancing from his lips. I looked around, then at him. 'Well, anywhere coldwould be nice.' He smiled, 'Finland it is.' Then snapped his fingers. MY ORB!
Ramael trudged through the sand, pressing the orb tightly against his body as he moved. He wiped the sweat as it poured from his brow. He looked over enviously at his gnome-capped companion, who walked through the sand without burden. “You need a break?” Mooski asked, concerned about his new friend’s labored breathing. “I am fine,” Ramael said, using every ounce of his remaining strength to pick up the pace. He was annoyed by the concern and pity of this small man. “What’s that up ahead? You see that?” Mooski pointed to some figures in the distance he couldn’t quite make out. Sam maneuvered her bike carefully, glancing down occasionally at her GPS as she tracked her target, the thieving bitch. She knew she was getting close, but resisted the urge to drive too fast in the desert sand. Her lips curled into a small smile when she saw her target up ahead. She pulled her front wheel right next to Jessa’s head as she lay face down on the desert floor. The pack Jessa stole from Sam was still slung over her shoulder. Is this bitch dead? Sam wondered. She gunned the motor, causing Jessa’s body to stir. Sam hopped off her bike and knelt down, twisting Jessa’s arm as she shoved a boot in her back. Jessa groaned as Sam pulled off the pack, slinging it over her own shoulder. She stood, staring down at her. She had been caught off guard when Jessa stole her pack earlier and ... who was she kidding? She had been no match for her witchcraft. Hearing her utter a few ridiculous words that ultimately rendered Sam immobile and unable to defend herself made her want to cut off the bitch’s tongue. That would make for a fair fight. Sam nodded to herself as she pulled her blade out of her waistband. She used a foot to push Jessa on her back, then gave her a solid kick in the ribs. “Wake up, you ****in’ thief.” Jessa laughed, mumbling something about snow and Finland. Sam knelt down and gripped Jessa’s face with one hand, using her other hand to pry open her mouth. Jessa offered little struggle in her current state. Sam could see people approaching rapidly in her peripheral vision but was undeterred. “It appears to be ... two human females and a vehicle,” Ramael replied, squinting to see. “Y-yeah,” Mooski said, giving Ramael a strange look. Ramael’s eyes widened as they closed in on the figures. He saw a beautiful woman dismount her vehicle, her hair falling past her shoulders as she threw off her helmet. “This is prolly somethin’ bad,” Mooski said, breaking into a run when he saw Sam shove a boot in Jessa’s back. Ramael struggled to keep up, his body in agonizing pain from all he had endured, coupled with the scorching heat. “What the hell are you doing?” Mooski yelled as he ran towards Sam. Ramael stopped in his tracks as his eyes took in the scene. Sam knelt expressionless before Jessa, one hand with a tight grip on her tongue, the other pressing a blade against the tongue, ready to slice it off. He was enthralled by this ruthless dark-haired beauty. Sam looked up, taken aback for a moment by the freak with a damn gnome on his head. “Time this bitch learned a lesson. Don’t steal ****. I’m just levelling the playing field,” Sam turned to complete her task. Ramael gripped Sam’s arm to stop her. “That will not help. They can still perform magic without speaking.” Ramael felt his heart flutter as he touched the woman. He was confused. What was this feeling? Sam’s eyes dropped when a sparkle in the sand caught her eye. The golden orb had fallen right next to her helmet when Ramael reached for her. It glittered and shone in the sun. She looked at the two men, who didn’t even notice the orb fell. They just stared at her. The little one looked horrified, the muscular one looked mesmerized. How could they not see it? she wondered. She didn’t know what it was, but she knew she had to have it. “Huh,” she said as she stood. “Didn’t know that. That sucks.” She placed her blade back in its sheath with her free hand. She smirked as she looked down at Ramael’s hand, still pressing into her flesh. She yanked her arm away, then dropped her pack to hide the orb. She bent down to pick up her helmet and deftly slid the orb into her pack, unseen; she slung it over her shoulder and hopped back on her bike. “Good luck out here,” she said, her bike kicking sand at their feet as she sped off. She looked back briefly at the muscular one. Forget about him, she thought to herself. Guys like him are a dime dozen. This golden orb is once in a lifetime, she thought. My orb.
“Do you know this woman?” This guy must be crazy. I’m a mom with a minivan full of kids. Of course I don’t know her. She rides a motorcycle. The only people I know make tarts for school bake sales and help organize community barbeques. “No, I’ve never seen this woman before.” “Can you explain exactly what happened?” Exactly what happened?! Exactly what happened?! I already told you exactly what happened! I feel like taking your clipboard and smashing it on that thick skull of yours. “I already told you the story officer. I was driving along the highway, when I saw a grey van up in the distance. Some guys were looking around in the ditches. As soon as they saw me, they drove away. When I came here, I find this lady lying in the ditch, the motorcycle a wreck beside her. No, I didn’t see the licence plate, no, I don’t know this woman, no, I didn’t recognize the guys, I’m not even sure they were guys, and no, I do not recognize the motorcycle either.” He raises his pencil to say something, but stops to think for a moment. “Did you see-“ “Hey mister, do you have a gun?” We both look down and see my son standing there. “Timothy-“ “That’s okay Ma’am. Well yes kid, I do have a gun, would you like to see it?” Timothy nods his head ferociously. The officer pulls his pistol from the holster on his side. “Did you ever shoot anyone with it?” “Uh...” “That’s enough Timothy, go sit back in the van.” The officer watches him slowly slouch back to the vehicle. “Sweet kid. Is there anything-“ A loud honk interrupts him. If anything good comes out of this experience, it is seeing a macho police officer jump right out of his socks. “Claire, get off the horn! What did I tell you about going into the front seat? No officer, there is nothing else that struck me as unusual or out of place. May I go now? The kids are getting-“ “Mom, when are we going to be there?” “We’ll go soon honey.” I turn back to the officer. “The kids are getting impatient.” “Well, I don’t see why I should keep you here any longer. We will contact you if we have any more questions.” “Thank you officer, have a good day.” I step back into the van before he can say anything else and drive off. “Is she dead?” “No honey, she is just a little hurt. They will get her to the hospital and make her better again.” “Are you sure?” This time it’s another voice. “Yes, I’m sure. Now settle down. We only have a bit more to go.” Settle down. Ha, now that would be a miracle. “Mom! Mark is trying to take my ball!” “What ball?” I turn around and look into the back. As a mom, I have mastered this skill. Timothy is holding a strange golden orb. Suzy is leaning over from her car seat and putting her snotty little hands on it. A garden ornament? “Where did you get that?” “I found it in the ditch.” “Well put it down, you don’t where it’s from. And don’t let Suzy get her mouth on it! Suzy!” Timothy pulls it away just in time and puts it on the floor. It rolls towards the front and gets stuck between a tissue box and a diaper bag. I put it on the passenger seat. The last thing I want is for it to roll under the gas or brake pedal. It’s actually a really strange looking orb. There is something about it that just... I don’t really know. All I know that it is a golden orb. My orb. “I found it, I get to keep it!” “No, we have to share! Right mommy? “ Okay, maybe not my orb.
I left Jim behind in the desert sands, which were surprisingly just outside of some suburban city in California. Who knew? He did give me a parting word of wisdom to carry with me on my journey, though. I think. 'Keep the talons of the dragon in a firm clutch between your palms, so the sword will hear the whisper of the forest clearly.' Which means, uh. Well, I don't really know. I don't do drugs. One thing that I did learn from being around Jim is that I need to 'stay my deafened ears close to the ground and listen for the careful steps of the buffalo'. Which apparently means I need to keep my eyes peeled and be a bit more wise in my decision-making. I'll tell you the only downfall about the past 24 hours was decoding every word from a dead musician who thought it was necessary to backmask everything he said. I'm actually a little pissed that chick didn't cut his tongue out instead. "Just leave it here, Doc. I gotta get home to my wife." I watched from a ditch on the opposite side of the road as the careless cop climbed into the driver's side of the SUV while the other stood at the end of the bike, probably taking down it's registration. "You're right. Tow truck's on it's way. She didn't look like she'd be needing it for a long time anyway!" the other one laughed, getting in on the passenger's side. As they drove off towards the city, I swiftly jogged over to the motorcycle to see if it could be useful. "Did they really leave the keys in the ignition?" I spat, scowling momentarily, "Well, guess that works out for me." Seems like the vigilante on wheels got what she deserved, so I'll pass on sweet revenge in exchange for her scuffed up scrap metal. Cutting out my tongue. Please. Didn't realize I was out of the chain gang, the freak. Even though it looked like miss thing took a beating, the bike was actually in decent shape considering the circumstances. I turned the key and sent the motor growling back the silence around me, peeling off opposite of the SUV. I looked down to check the gauge only to realize that it needed a fill up. As I got closer to town, I turned into the lot of a gas station and pulled right up next to a pump. It took me a moment to get the kickstand down, since it was a little bent from the wreck. A couple of greasy mechanics in the garage raised a brow at how rough the bike looked, then turned their heads and watched me walk inside. I stood behind some woman with a couple of kids jumping at her ankles with assorted refreshments held high in the air, begging for her to purchase something for them. It's moments like that that made me realize why I never had kids. After what seemed to be a thousand chants of 'mom, can I get this?', the woman made her purchase and told the kids to put the items back where they got them. As she made her exit, the kids lazily threw everything on the counter and followed behind. I blankly looked at the cashier as he mumbled under his breath and pulled the items behind the counter, "Whenever you have a **** day, just remember that I do this for a living, okay?" I ignored the mans request for chit chat and slapped a bill on the counter, "Can I get $20 on pump seven, thanks." And left. The two greasy mechanics stood just beyond the door smoking cigarettes and drinking some off-brand soft drink. Knowing they were eager to make some remark, I stood at the pump and kept to my own until the meter stopped. Just as I put the handle back in the slot, the guy tossed down his cigarette to go back into the garage. All before he decided to flap his jaw. "That's why you never let women handle a mans vehicle." The other man laughed. I decided to let that slide and mounted the bike. Before I started the engine, I saw the mother climbing into her soccer van. As my eyes directed to the rapid motion in the back, they widened in surprise. The two brats were fighting over a shiny object. A GOLDEN object. "Hey, sweetheart!" An annoyance broke my sight as I switched my attention to the fat mechanic. "Ya finally realizing a minivan is more your style, huh?" Again, I ignored the sudden confrontation and tried to focus on the now moving minivan. "What idiot decided to give you the keys to that bike?" This guy was not going to let up. I watched the minivan transcend down the street and turn off at the corner. Reactively, I kick-started bike and revved up the engine, "I stole it." Before the man could even get up, I pulled out of the lot and followed the van around the corner. The roads narrowed to a neighborhood street as the van pulled into the driveway of a very cliche family home. Without hesitation, I drove right up to the house and parked the bike. I could have waited until the family were inside to avoid seeming like I was intentionally following them, but I doubt that would make it less awkward. Fortunately the kids noticed I was there before their mom did. She was buried in the backseat retrieving something. "Cool! A motorcycle!" one yelped, running towards me. The other kid just sat next to the van with her thumb in her mouth. Pretty old habit for a 10 year old to be doing. "Can I help you?" I looked up to see the woman with a child at her hip and a diaper bag in the other, among other things. "Hi," I took off my sunglasses to seem less intimidating, "I'm sorry to bother you, but I saw you at the gas station and I know this seems weird, but you have something that belongs to me." Right then the thumb-sucking little girl ran to the diaper bag and pulled out my Orb. "You mean this?" "Yes! You found it!" I faked with a big smile. "We found that in the ditch when the cops were talking to my mom," the other chimed in. "I was thinking it belonged to the woman who crashed her bike," the mother continued while bouncing the baby on her hip, "I was going to find out what hospital she was at so I could bring it to her. Wait, is that the bike--?" "Yeah, she's a friend of mine. She asked me to grab the bike to keep it from sitting at the junk yard." "I'm surprised she can talk! She looked like she was in pretty bad shape. Is she okay then?" "Yeah, she'll be fine. Luckily, there were only a few scratches." I was getting pretty annoyed at pretending to know this idiot. That and acting like I give a damn. "Well kids, you heard the lady. It belongs to her, so you have to give it back!" "No! Can we have it? I want to keep it!" the kids whined. Deja Vu. I slipped my glasses back on and rolled my eyes. After another futile attempt of trying to get something they didn't deserve, the mother took the orb and handed it over to me. "I'm sorry you had to come all this way for this. Whatever it is." "Just an old family heirloom, is all." I smiled, mounting the bike. "Thank you." I waved the family a final farewell and slowly made my exit from their sights. My orb.
Decades have passed. I have been many things in this flesh. Vandal. Thief. Fence. I was even a whore for some time, but it would seem not a very good one given that I had no experience with things carnal. It is a strange feeling to have someone ask you for their money back after an... assignation, as a look of disappointment clouds their face. And now I am a beggar. The street is unusually clean, and from the looks on the faces of those who pass by, I am unusually dirty. There are small shops with friendly looking people coming in and out, but their friendly smiles evaporate as they lay eyes on me. They go blank and unfocused in a pretense of not seeing me. My outstretched hand remains empty as it has for days. I am no longer immortal, but neither am I exactly mortal. Days and weeks can pass without food and water and I do not die. I hunger - oh, yes - and I thirst. I feel pain. I feel longing, and sadness, and… many things I would rather not go into, yet still I remain and linger. There is a small dry touch in the palm of my hand. I look up into a wizened little face made of wrinkles. “Oh, dear. Just look at you.” “I am hungry.” “I bet. Come on with me. I’m not gonna’ give you money. I’m no spring chicken and I’ve seen a thing or two. You young folks sticken’ them needles in your arms and whatnot. But I’ve got some food to spare. You come on with me now.” “Thank you." I unfold myself from the corner were the building meets the sidewalk and follow the little raisin of a women. She is old, but spry. There is a spring in her step that would be envied by any. Yes. She does seem to be the kind of person to have seen a thing or two in her day. We walk into a shop. It is cluttered and filled of a menagerie of things. A second hand store with hopes of being an antique shop. I run my finger along a shelf. No dust. She sees me doing what I am doing and gives me a look. “Not in my store. It may not be neat, but it is clean.” She looks me over. “And speaking of clean, it looks like you haven’t seen the wet side of a bar of soap since God was a little boy!” I pause for a moment. One of those moments that hits you in the gut and leaves you seeing stars and tasting sick in the back of your throat. His name. “You Ok, son?” “I am fine. Thank you for your concern.” She leaves the shopfront via a narrow door behind a long counter of Victorian vintage. Beneath the heavy glass, patinated and foggy, there lay uncounted treasures and keepsakes. I noticed that there were some gems amongst the brick-a-brack as if there were no rhyme or reason to where things are tossed. A beautiful Georgian ring with a cabochon star sapphire sits next to a Barbie doll missing half of her hair. Two pieces of Tiffany glass are thrown carelessly amongst a number of lesser pieces. She returns, a small plastic tray in her hand with a sandwich and there was a glass of milk. She places the tray on the counter into which I was peering and cleares her throat. “Thought you were hungry?” “I am. I thank you for this kindness. You have some lovely things.” She eyes me with suspicion. “Sweetie, I’ve helped out many people in my day who were down on their luck. Luck has a funny way of turning on anyone, so I figure help when I can because you never know when you’re the one who’s gonna’ need the help, right? But sonny, I’ve never met anyone who needed a hand who talked like you talk.” She pushes up her glasses in a gesture clearly honed over the years to indicate that nothing was getting passed her. We held eyes for some time, neither wishing to break away. She is a pistol, this one! I slowly reach for the sandwich. Like lightning, she jumps from her position behind the counter, her body flipping in one fluid turn, end ever end until she lands like a cat on a Luis XIV dining table behind me. One arm cocked up behind her left ear, the other straight out with the palm up. A Kung-fu Master in the middle of Brooklyn. She flicks the middle and ring finger of the extended hand. “Come, on boy. Bring it.” “I do not wish to ‘bring it’ as you say.” I am bewildered, not only that this little old lady can do what she is doing, but why she should react this way. “I know who you are, Ramael.” Oh. Well, that changes things. Three deep breaths and my muscles and heart take their cue. I tap the floor with the ball of my right foot and am propelled backward to a large cabinet. I see her swing her arm in a slow arc. Her arm passes out of this existence and pulls energies from other planes of reality. It glows actinic blue. She is good. Very good. What she does now would kill most Masters. Is she even human? I wonder. Her body shifts faster than time can follow and the energy flies from her fingertips. She is silent in the maneuver. Old school. Impressive. No drama to dress things up. No theatre. Just the act itself, smooth and precise as an electron making a quantum leap. Primal. I jump in a direction that has no name. The energy from her fingers curls and follows. Damn! She is even better than I thought. What the hell is she? I feel the blast graze me and I die in a billion alternate universes. But not in this one. Here I fold and flip and turn and twist and use the very explosion she has unleashed as the force to propel me back to her. She is ready for it. No fool, this one. Her hand comes up and creates a paradox where my foot should strike. I forever approach, but never make contact. The space between my foot and her hand ever divides and never comes to zero. She grins wickedly. Time has stopped. “You will not take Her, Rameal,” I hear her whisper almost lovingly. Her tone is perversely seductive coming from such an ancient as she. I center myself and wait for the moment when existence tires of the paradox in her hand and forces a choice. It comes. I feel time wind up again. I bring the foot down on the Luis XIV table and it splinters beneath. She laughs and flies away. The back wall of the room, covered in mirrored tile like some 70’s boudoir is an illusion. Through it she disappears. I follow. There is no space in this space. Relationships loose their meaning. Things are both near and far at the same time. My skin prickles at the sound. The song. The lamentation that is both lust and cloister, passion and devotion, desire and obeisance. The Orb is here. I hear the old lady laugh and the sound is everywhere and nowhere, just as Her song is both in me and on me. “You are lost, Ramael! Would that you had your wings still, you might find your way out, but you are banished and thrown down. This place is your tomb.” She may be right. This may well be my tomb were it only myself and my own powers being brought to bear. But the old lady fails in one crucial point. The Orb will have things Her way. She does not obey; She is obeyed. I swallow my pride and reach within to sing a sad shadow of an angel’s song. The kind of song meant only for Him, but He no longer hears me, so to Her I turn. And She answers - or, better said - she commands me to find her. And I do. She rests in my hands. I do not truly hold Her. The act is Hers, not mine, if you take my meaning. A pain like the birth of knowledge spikes my chest and I am thrown from the no-place behind the glass tiles. She is still in my hands. I see the old lady fly up to the other side of that mirrored glass and suddenly smack into it like a sparrow that is sun blinded by the glass of an office building. And just like any sparrow, she drops and is gone. My Orb.
I don't know how much time had passed since i had stepped foot in this city. I had promised myself to never again set foot in this infernal place but am nonetheless happy to return. The gentle buckle of the limousine attracts my attention as it lurches forward from the traffic light, turning right into a busy street with many other vehicles stationary. I look out the tinted window and see a driver of a Mazda 323 haphazardly reading his newspaper and whilst letting crumbs from the doughnut in his mouth fall into his lap. I am reminded of the good old days when men not only ate their doughnuts without mess but the newspaper too. Such is the nature of my beloved city of WF. The nostalgia begins to take over as i begin to remember my past here only to be disturbed by the slight movement of the vehicle moving forward a meter before stopping again. I roll down the window separating me from the drive, "How long is this going to take?" "I don't know sir. The traffic is jammed up and we cant go back." He avoid eye contact with me sensing my frustration at the situation as i pull the back of his head through the gap. "You know why i can't stay here for long right?" I whispered into his ear. "Yes sir." "I have been to rehab too many times for me to return and if i have to return because of you i will-" My sentence is cut short as my gaze fixes on a dirty homeless person crossing the street in front of my limo. He seemed to be holding something, something round wrapped in the little pieces of cloth he probably had on hand. I quickly exit the vehicle, ignoring the humid choking smell that lingered into the air and seemed to get stronger as i approached the man. As soon as he saw me i broke into a sprint, casting off my jacket and coat as i tackled him to the tarmac causing him to spill his tightly wrapped parcel. And then there it was. Rolling in its splendid beauty and i am awed once again for the first time in months. All the months of rehabilitation i had undergone seeped away from my thoughts as i put out my hand towards it, tentatively as if it might shatter at my very touch. I pull it towards me and allow the golden magnificence to overwhelm me and the sounds of bleating vehicles and expletives. My mind regresses and the persona i had fought so hard to keep out returns with an evil grin. "Souji's orb."
Standing on this corner selling these pathetic trinkets wasn't something I wanted to do, it was the only thing that I seemed to be good at. That and being able to spot a mark from two blocks away. The traffic was bumper to bumper again today, so I was able to unload some of this junk rather easily, making this a good day, often being cursed at or spit on for not having a real job as most out here feel I should have. That ragamuffin of a tramp stumbled past, almost knocking my makeshift table to the ground, "Hey, watch it you ***." I watch as he staggers in front of a nice shiney limo, the passenger get out and, like a front four tackle, take the legs out from under him. "Now, what have we here." Seeing what he had taken off the oldster. Thinking quickly I jump over the hood of a VW wagon, rip open the front passenger side door and nail the driver with my brass knuckles, they come in handy on these streets, what with all the disreputable people that populate the city. Checking the driver he's out cold, breathing regularly so I know I didn't kill this one. After draging him to the passenger side, taking his place behind the wheel, and placing his cap on my head, I wait for my mark. "Come on, get us out of here!" "Yes Sir, where to?" "I don't care, just move." Putting the limo in gear I shove my way past the VW wagon and a pick-up, around a corner and gun the gas, tires squaking before finally gaining traction on the tarmac. After several minutes and a dozen corners later I pulled in behind an old and obvously deserted warehouse. Getting out I open the back door, reach in and rip the orb from this idot's hands, "HEY, what the ****, who do you think...who are you, where's my driver...", my brass knuckles connect with his jaw, a satisfying crunch could be heard as bones snap and disintigrate with the impact. "You sleep my friend, I think I can find a better use for this than you can." Reaching back into the front I grab the keys, hop the fencing for the warehouse and vanish around the corner. Burying the keys in an overstuffed and neglected garbage can I begin ambling up the street, the Orb is mine.
