THE REAL LIVEJOURNAL EXHIBIT B WEEK TWO -- "Um..."
EXCERPT FROM AN UNFINISHED NOVEL
TENTATIVELY TITLED "ENDGAME"
Corey found himself lying flat on his back in total darkness. He shivered as he rolled over and stood up; he couldn’t quite remember how he had gotten here. He vaguely recalled being with Jon -- they had travelling together, running away from… something. They had been driven to the limits of their endurance and beyond. Exhausted, Corey had stumbled, and as he fell it seemed like a shadow rushed out to envelop him. After that… his mind was utterly blank.
“Jon?” He called out, but barely heard his own voice; this place seemed to swallow sound. “Jon, where are you?” He could feel his breath passing his lips, but still had to strain to hear his own shouted words. “*JON*!” At first, there was no response... then he heard a noise come from directly behind him, but it wasn’t Jon. Something was laughing: a sinister chuckle, deep as thunder rolling off mountainsides… with an undertone like shattering glass.
Corey quickly spun around to face the source of the laughter. At first, he only perceived more darkness… then two glowing scarlet horizontal lines suddenly appeared - they were somewhat elevated, and he needed to lift his head up to look at them directly. The lines rapidly expanded vertically to form two spheres with mottled markings, burning brightly like red-hot coals. It was difficult to judge their size with nothing to compare them to, but they each seemed to be at least ten feet across. As he watched, each of the spheres rotated slightly… and Corey felt his blood run cold as he realized they were two enormous eyes. Eyes now focused on him.
Paralyzed by terror, Corey was driven to the brink of madness as he saw a huge patch of darkness, somehow blacker than black, form below the spheres. Instinctively, Corey knew it was the maw of the creature which he had heard laughing a moment before… and then the thing rushed forward and devoured him whole.
It was only after he felt his flesh start to dissolve that Corey awoke, screaming.
Drenched with sweat, the teen sat upright, reached under his bed, found the chamber pot… and vomited violently into it. When his stomach was empty, he stood and stepped into the hallway to dump the contents in the privy. Still trembling, he walked back to his room… and found Jonathan waiting for him in the hall.
“Talk to me.” His friend's voice was heavy with concern. “Let me help you.”
“You can’t help!” Corey was on the verge of tears. “No one can!”
“Please, Corey, tell me what-“
“I can’t. I won’t!” Corey hissed through clenched teeth. “Believe me, it’s better if you don’t know.” His body shuddered as he tried to repress his sobs. “Please… just go.”
“But-“
“*GO*!” He sprinted past Jon, ran into his room, then slammed and bolted the door behind him.
Jonathan was tempted to pound on the door and demand entry… but he knew it was pointless; Corey could be incredibly stubborn… and Jon had no wish to upset his friend any further. But Jon felt that he needed to do something… and that really left him only one alternative.
The youth turned and headed to Xerin’s chambers, at the far end of the hall. When he knocked gently on the door, the wizard’s voice bade him to enter. Jon stepped inside to find the old man seated at his desk, reading a large tome. Xerin glanced up at Jon, then grunted impatiently “It’s about time you came to see me. This is what-the eighth night in a row, now?”
“Ninth, Master.” Jon swallowed nervously. “I stayed away because Corey begged me not to say anything to anyone… but I can’t stand by and do nothing anymore.”
Xerin smiled wanly. “Corey is lucky to have someone like you; loyal… but willing to do what is needed in his friend’s best interest.” The wizard closed the book, then turned to face Jon directly. “What is going on with Corey? He told me that he’s having difficulty practicing the lightning bolt spell and it keeps backfiring on him, but Corey is a terrible liar. Never mind the fact that I don’t think I’ve ever seen him fumble a spell even once; sometimes I think he’s incapable of making a mistake when it comes to the mystic arts.” Xerin leaned forward in his chair. “Talk to me, Jon. What’s the matter with him?”
Jon fidgeted nervously. “Master, Corey… isn’t sleeping well.”
Xerin lowered his eyebrows and stared at Jon in disbelief. “Corey… sleeps!? When?”
“Usually once a week, for perhaps a quarter of an hour at a time. But for the past week and a half, he hasn’t even been able to manage that. He's tried sleeping again each night since the trouble started, but each time he wakes within a few minutes.”
Xerin shook his head in amazement. “In a way, this is even stranger than my assumption that he doesn’t sleep at all.” The wizard sighed. “Well, I can brew up something which promotes peaceful dreaming. That should solve the matter.”
“Um...” Jon frowned deeply. Xerin saw this and knew there was even more to this issue. “All right, Jon; what am I missing?”
The youth paused, not quite sure how to explain. “Master… Corey’s dreams are… special.”
“Special? How?”
“Master… I know this will seem an odd question… but do you remember when you first met Corey and myself?”
Xerin nodded. “Of course. I found the two of you skipping stones on a stream near the orphanage.”
“Do you recall exactly what Corey said to you as you approached us?”
The old man smiled. “He greeted me by name. I must say I found it rather flattering that he knew me on sight; I assumed my reputation had preceded me.”
“And when you told us you were going to take us both into your care and ordered us to get our belongings… do you remember what happened then?”
Xerin frowned as he looked back on the memory. “Yes… you returned in less than half a minute, ready to travel. I did think it odd at the time. It was almost as if you had been expecting to leave.”
Jon nodded curtly. “That’s exactly right; we were expecting to leave. Master, three days before you arrived, Corey told me he had dreamed that a wizard named Xerin would come and make him his apprentice… and that the wizard would agree to take me along as a squire when Corey refused to leave me behind. Corey described the man in the dream to me in detail… and he was correct in every respect. He even knew the color of the robe you wore that day. And when he told me of this dream, we both packed in preparation… because we knew from experience that it was only a matter of time before it would come to pass.
“Master... Corey’s dreams always come true. Always.”