We Bid You, Please

A poem written during an education class out of boredom or spite or some other negative emotion I've long since been over.

So this is what it means
to be truly alone

Breathless rock
in a forest of life
Drying in sun
Not building it up

I was getting killed
Stuffed full of grief
Ready to explode
On the nearest accepting soul

NaNo - The Rest

This is actually the rest of what I've written so far. It's long, but it didn't feel right to split it up. I have no idea when/if I'll be able to post any more of the story. Anyway, I finally started to introduce the main conflict of the story. On page 52.

I hope you like this. Please pleeeasseee give me feedback about ANYTHING--thoughts, good stuff, bad stuff, things you'd like to see, questions, etc. I want to know people are actually reading this if I'm going to keep writing it in the future. Thanks! Enjoy chapter 4!

Chapter Four

Two years later…

Kale is less than a man, but better than he was. Corten has never been more proud in his life of anything or anyone, including himself, and that’s saying something. Corten has grown, too, in ways he never expected. But for now, they both find themselves in the backwood with the other five men. The trees have returned since the last time Kale was in the mysterious forest, but he now knows why.

Kale understands more about the world—his world—than he ever knew was possible. He can find himself in anything. There are relations between his still somewhat new friends that he understands with much more completeness. There is more between them than Kale could have imagined. Relationships in the demon world, he discovered, are not just friendships or romances. Every last one of them is connected in a brotherhood to each other, and that brotherhood only grows stronger with time and redemption.

Redemption, Kale has found, plays a larger part in his life than even his friends and his brother understand. Being such a unique case, he is left to answer a lot of his questions on his own, and he has virtually ceased asking them of the others. He understands now why they found his questions so menial and pointless. He had no grounds to even fathom the answers. Kale’s life is something indescribable, and his existence is something uncontainable. His life exists fully within him, but extends outside himself and even into other people.

He can influence them, he has found. He cannot change minds or actions or use telekinesis or anything fancy like that. But Kale can release energy into a human and cause him to ponder something not previously realized by the person. They will consider his input before they know his name or his face. From across the street, he can guilt someone into helping a person who has dropped a package.

Kale’s powers are not surprising to the other men, but they do not reveal to him that he is unique. He can do things the others cannot. While Blake has his mind-reading thing, and Enya has his presentations, and Corten his leadership, none of those things combined with the others can equal the potential that exists within Kale’s single right hand. What remains between the Dream Team—which they decided to adopt after Kale recounts his thoughts from his first trip to the backwood—a secret, they do not fret over the difference. They realize Kale has no need to know his impact on the world and its impact returned to him. There is no imminent danger to either. They remain quiet despite their minor reservations, and Kale continues to learn about the world he never knew was truly his.

--

Kale licks his lips and tastes the salt of his own sweat resting there. His hands are grasped behind his back, pulling at themselves, straining to remain still but feeling urges stronger than Satan himself could create. His skin was shimmering and almost white in its strain. His eyes shut tightly, and his ears wide open. Waiting.

The waiting is the hardest part. Kale knew he could restrain himself from the urges. He knew his own strength was way beyond that of the other men, even pooled together. His patience, however, was lacking. It was something he never had need to practice before realizing his real life. Two years previously, before any of this was even under Kale’s radar, he had problems with his patience. Perhaps it was his greatest flaw—his biggest setback. He never understood why waiting was such a big deal. Especially now, with the powers he possessed, why wait was always a question on his mind. He pushed it back almost hourly with reasoning and the things he had learned in his days with the Dream Team, knowing why wait was such an invalid question. In the long run, ironically enough, waiting was the biggest piece. Training was necessary and education was definitely worth completing, but waiting was such an enigma. There were reasons, sure. But to Kale, reason was never enough. He had an experience-based mind, and with no experience to base the need to wait on, Kale found it rather tedious.

Still, hands sore and knuckles white with the muscles in his face, Kale waits.

The men circle him slowly, turning and watching him struggle against himself. Their eyes are red and black, all except for Corten. Corten stands beyond the circling men, mirroring Kale in his stance, but not his tension. Corten is concentrated, but calm. His blazing white eyes focused on Kale, his hands resting behind him, his face even and unmoving.

Corten surely should not be the one doing this, but he insisted. He said it would be better for the two of them.

The men disagreed on almost anything Corten said anymore, but they stopped saying as much. There was more to their obedience of him than his superiority, after all. They had to remain at peace. It was part of the brotherhood of their race. It was part of keeping them alive as redeemed men. They had a grace and a responsibility to use that grace to relate to others.

Corten’s glare bore into Kale’s mind. He tore it apart without being too damaging. Corten had already left a piece of himself there before, he didn’t mind doing it again, but he did not want Kale to go through the same thing involuntarily. He could not let Kale experience the breaking of the mind that came with these intrusions. It would be a reality someday, but not now. Corten controlled himself, and merely explored, knocking over a metaphorical thought table or two on his way down the hall.

Bowls of meat and potatoes tumble down from counters as Corten reaches two kitchens, three, and four. Kale has certainly grasped the concepts of the paradox and distraction. Corten finds it in himself to reign in his pride for his brother. Emotion is irrelevant at the moment. It will only allow Kale more defense. This exercise is not about defense—it is about learning how to break safely.

Glass is flying everywhere. It passes by Corten as he walks through his brother’s mind palace and does not do more than scratch his skin a few times. There is no blood. There is no time for blood. The creation of such weaknesses comes later. For now, Kale has surely grasped the basics.

Kale expresses to Corten as the man invades his thoughts that perhaps he needs to work a little harder. Corten takes the challenge, and orders the circling Dream Team members to increase their attacks. They close in on Kale slowly, the circles getting tighter as they walk at faster paces. Kale cannot see them, but he feels them in his presence. Kale counts them over and over, a distraction both for their attacks and for Corten’s invasion.

They have seen this before. It’s obviously nothing new. The clearing of the backwood is the same as the one Kale saw during his first experience there, but now he stands on a raised mound of brush opposite the entrance path with Corten blocking it. The force around them grows more condensed and Kale begins to shake where he stands. The men are now standing around him, their faces mere inches from his head, their red and black eyes growing more intense with every second as they join Corten in his intrusion. The men appear behind Corten within Kale’s mind palace. The place is trashed. Everything has been destroyed except the walls, windows, and the palace itself.

Kale shakes harder; the urges are almost overpowering. His senses diminish to nothing, his hands lose their grip on each other, and his teeth are bared. His eyes burst open, and his arms seem to explode from his body outward, throwing each of the men around him to collide with different trees around the clearing. Corten does not move from his stance as Kale slowly sinks to the ground, but his eyes soften and return to their normal color.

Kale is on his knees, sitting back, eyes closed again, but this time from exhaustion. Corten finally crosses the clearing as the other men stand up and straighten out their clothes, not a single one harmed.

He reaches Kale after what feels like ten minutes of the world’s smallest steps, but he has to make sure Kale is recovering on his own. Corten holds back his need to protect and comfort as Kale sways forward onto his hands and knees, almost bowing in salute before standing shakily on his freshly weakened legs. Kale opens his eyes and breathes heavily for a moment before slapping Corten on the shoulder and chuckling.

Corten remains in his reserved position as Kale walks back toward the path and exits the backwood. Corten continues to forget that he can do so without assistance, unlike before. The past two years have gone too quickly, Corten thinks before chuckling, head down, and following his brother out of the clearing, the other men trailing respectfully behind.

Back in the third meeting room, the men sat around a rather larger table than used to occupy the closet-esque space. They had to invest in something bigger since Kale joined them. The Dream Team could barely survive as it was, let alone with another member.

Kale had also grown accustomed to navigating the darkroom since his induction to the club. He realized the emptiness of the black space came from his perception of it rather than the actual lack of contents of the room. As he changed his perception, the room itself changed. He still passed through a thin layer of blackness like with the backwood, but now he could see a normal parlor and living room within the space. It was perpetually dim, but visible nonetheless. The astonishing factor to this strange discovery was in Kale’s experience with it. The men did not tell him that he could change the room based on his perception. Kale discovered it on his own. He did not exclaim his discovery upon noticing it, however. He figured it was something so common to them that he would be viewed as mediocre or inexperienced or even dumb if they found out he had not been doing this all along.

The darkroom never changed; it only became more visible. Never brighter, just clearer, as if Kale had found a pair of glasses that slowly increased his vision in the darkness as he passed through more and more.

Into the closet space they went, and sitting down at the long, rectangular table, Corten smirked, “So this is what a champion looks like post-war.” Kale glared at him.

It was obvious to both of them and the others that Kale had not won that war like he expected to. His patience had worn thin, and his outburst was costly. While he was able to salvage the walls of his mind palace, he sacrificed a piece of his redemption. The piece was small enough to be irrelevant yet large enough to affect Kale’s countenance. He was tired and irritated with Corten’s destruction of the maze Kale had spent so long on. They were both aware of the tension, but they knew it would pass as always.

“Right. So when do I get to go all Bond on your brain?” Kale asked, feigning an insult on his brother.

“In time.”

“As always.”

“Don’t be that way. You know this test of your patience is a temporary thing. You will gain the ability soon, but it requires practice and concentration and everything you don’t have enough patience yet to endure. It will continue to be a complicated process until you are willing to go through Alexander’s lessons like I talked to you about.”

“Don’t speak to me like you are my superior. You know I’m more powerful. You know I could slaughter you in a second.”

“But you can’t. You’re redeemed, remember? You have a conscience, and it will not allow you to slaughter anyone, particularly me.”

“Whatever you say, Master.”

“You don’t need to hear this speech again. It will only harden you. So I will leave you to your recovery.” With that statement, Corten stood and motioned for Kale to step out of the room so the rest of the group could discuss his state of mind like they always did after an exercise. Kale rolled his eyes, but left the room as they wished. He knew he was always like this right after an invasion, but he hated it nonetheless. He passed through the darkroom and into the hallway.

Corten appeared for a moment behind him, saying, “Don’t drive like this, remember. You have that room for a reason.” Kale waved him off and continued out the door at the end of the hall, fully intending to drive to his apartment against Corten’s wishes. It was all routine at this point. Corten knew Kale would ignore his warnings, and Kale knew Corten would continue to give them. The ordinary-ness of it all became a comfort, and Kale shrugged off some of his irritation as he crossed the threshold of his bedroom.

He laid down, but could not sleep just yet. He had to reorganize what Corten had overturned during the exercise. Kale knew it would only help to recover from his negative emotions and mental strain, but it was a real pain in the ass. That was no mystery.

The sun departed from the sky as the hours passed with Kale meandering down metaphorical hallways and staircases, picking up the books that held all his knowledge and righting frames on the walls, noting the ones that needed the glass replaced or the tables that needed stain touch-ups. He was not in a hurry. As the rooms returned to normal, he calmed the shaking in his hands and the twitch in his toes right along with the unsettled nature of the palace slowly regaining their intended form.

Kale sighed and figured he’d had enough for the day. He climbed the rest of the way onto his bed and fell asleep without even drawing the covers over himself.

--

Kale awoke to Corten sitting over him on his bed, shaking his shoulders and shouting indeterminable noises at him. Kale started almost punched Corten in the face. He probably would have were it not for the tight hold Corten had on his arms.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” Corten said nonchalantly as he climbed off the bed and left the room, presumably to sit at the kitchen counter.

“How in the world did you get in here?” Kale questioned. It would not have been strange after two years of intense brotherhood for Corten to be in his apartment at random times, but they had agreed early on that Kale’s space needed to be just that—his—if they were to continue their relationship amicably. Corten left Kale his recovery space separate from anything outside what Kale wanted in his world. If he wanted his apartment to remain completely human as it had been before their meeting, so be it. That space was Kale’s, and that fact would not change no matter how close they got. Yet, here was Corten, invading that sacred space, without the convenience of a key to enter the establishment, nor an invitation to be welcome in it.

“I came to wake you before you slipped into a self-induced coma. You didn’t come back for three days last time. That can’t happen again.”

“You told me it was only a day!”

“Well, that was then. We are getting you closer to needing results, and you cannot allow that much time for recovery. Other attackers will not let you simply return to your apartment after an attack and tell you to take your time redecorating.”

“Don’t patronize me!”

“Don’t yell at me. You know I’m right. You need to be stronger than this.”

“I’m already stronger than you! What more do you want?”

“I want us to be happy. I want us to be able to stand in a room together after an attack and not shout insults. I want us to have a normal to return to and not just imagine we’re doing what’s best.”

“A normal to return to. What is your definition of normal? Because two years ago, this wouldn’t have been mine.”

“Normal for us will be different because we are different from everyone else, demon or human or otherwise. No two people are like us in any way. Don’t let that define your normal.”

“You always speak with such eloquence. Did you get that from Mother or Father?” The rude question Kale posed had its intended effect. Corten set his jaw and started to speak, but he realized there was nothing worth saying. He had come to wake Kale, and that was done. Corten left, almost slamming the door behind him.

His patience was wearing thinner than Kale’s at this point, but he would never tell his brother that.

Kale returned to bed and lay down again, but he could not sleep. He still had a few rooms in his palace to clean, and they would take at least an hour or two at the pace Kale was willing to go. Someday he would learn to do his cleaning more hastily, but this was not the day for such change.

He analyzed Corten’s actions while he picked up splinters of wood and shards of glass from the cabinet that had been overturned. Corten had been borderline enthusiastic upon waking Kale (however enthusiastic one can be with a countenance as stoic as Corten’s), but that wore off in one statement, one comment about their parents. The strong counsel, the stone of Thor had been reduced to a stammering wimp upon remembering the fate of the persons that brought him into the world. That remained Corten’s only weakness, and Kale had noted that as quickly as he could, using it almost too frequently to be considered accidental.

There was always a hint of secrecy in Corten’s statements. Kale was not sure if Corten knew he was so obvious, and Corten did not realize Kale could see it in his every word. But they danced around the unknown and landed in a pile of hatred every time. It was not healthy, but they had missed out on an entire childhood of bickering, so they allowed their not-yet-fully-developed minds to indulge.

Kale’s mental form picked up the last of the chairs that had been thrown against a wall. He set it in a different place than he knew it had been before, and waited for his conscience to reject it as it had the first time he attempted to change the layout. It did no such thing. The chair did not shake or crumble or explode. It rested like furniture should—undisturbed and inanimate.

Kale stared at it for a long moment and ultimately chose not to interpret why at the time. He was tired of his own questions. They were often the only ones asked. He had nothing to teach the others, so all he did was ask and absorb. It was relieving and tiring at the same time, and Kale was resigned to accept both effects. He was, after all, the student, the youngling, and the protégé. It was not his time.

He left the room and the unmoving chair and his mind entirely. He let his subconscious wander around the physical apartment he was in. It brushed fingers over dusty shelves and dry surfaces, tracing patterns with its feet as it sauntered around the perimeter of the bedroom and reached the door. It followed the wall around a corner and passed the TV, heading for the balcony. Kale joined his subconscious in leaning on the railing and looking over the city. It was a strange idea, that he could be outside himself, but he was able to see the scars on his arms and the worn down condition of his face in the morning light.

Kale examined his appearance through the eyes of an outsider. He looked like a normal person at first glance. Though, searching deeper into his own eyes, he saw the beginnings of fire. The irises were morphing from their Caribbean Sea blue to a lighter, cloudy sky color. The red fire was not there.

Kale allowed his subconscious form to return to his mind and left the balcony to examine himself in the mirror. He looked first at his hair, just the same as two years before, except slightly thicker and darker. No one else would have noticed.

He leaned against the counter and moved in close to study his eyes. Like he noticed on the balcony, they had grown significantly lighter than Kale remembered. In the left one, he saw a flare. It was white—hotter than the red fire the other men had—like Corten’s eyes when he grows angry.

This did not worry or concern Kale. It did not affect him in the least. It was merely another factor of his life, another observation made about his subtle transformation into… well, the demon that he was. It was slow, almost unnoticeable, but something that was becoming a part of him, or rather that he was becoming.

--

The next training session found Kale in the presence of the Dream Team with the exception of Corten. It was unusual for him to be absent, but the man had duties other than attacking his brother. They were in the darkroom; Kale was not yet sure why. They had seated him in the center of the largest couch and were standing around the table that rested in front of him. Rather than clasping their hands behind their backs as had become normal to Kale, their arms were crossed over their chests, almost protectively. They looked prepared to throw trouble makers out of a club.

Kale sat quietly, looking between them and assessing possible reasons for their presence in the darkroom. He was not terribly worried. He could see, after all. He began to wonder if this was another test of his patience, when—

“KALE, BROTHER OF BELOVED CORTEN,” Roth’s voice boomed through the small, dim space.

“Uh, yeah?”

“WHAT HAVE YOU TO SAY?”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean.”

“YOU ARE IN AN UNFAMILIAR LOCATION, SURROUNDED BY STRONG OPPONENTS. YOU CANNOT SEE. WHAT WILL YOU DO?”

“What do you mean I can’t see? I can see you perfectly. Well, I guess not perfectly. It’s a little dark and slightly blurry, but it’s a lot better than it used to be.” Kale watched Roth’s face mash up as his head turned to the side in confusion. Blake was even more perplexed, obviously attempting to read Kale’s mind and face at the same time. Alexander was the only one whose arms did not fall to his sides, but his glare did soften into a look of surprise.

“You can see?” Alexander asked.

“Yeah, did you not know that?”

“You should have said something. How long?”

“How long what?”

“HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN ABLE TO SEE IN THE NOT-SO-DARKROOM?” It was the first time Kale had ever heard Alexander make a joke, and it was definitely not the right time to laugh.

“A—a little over a year? It’s been getting better over time. At first I thought I was seeing things, but then I started actually reaching out to touch the stuff I thought I passed, and it was actually there.”

“And now?”

“Now? Now I can see you all pretty darn well. Blake isn’t doing great over there; you might want to check on him. I know that the couch I’m sitting on is a deep forest green and the table in front of me has a thick candle on it. You’re all standing pretty equally distant from each other and from me. Why is it so weird? Maybe my eyes just adjusted well over time or something.”

“This is much more unusual than that. The darkroom is more than just dark.”

“What is it?” Kale didn’t understand what the big deal was, but Alexander ignored his question and began barking out orders.

“Roth, wipe that look off your face. Go summon Corten. Kenton, start looking into this. I want to know just how rare it is and what it could mean for Kale. Enya… you know what to do. Blake, wait here while I take Kale into the first room. Search the waves for any revelations.” Kale was completely lost in the vernacular of the demons. He frequently forgot that they all had much more experience than he did, whether or not he was in fact more powerful.

“Kale?”

“Yep.”

“Come with me.” Alexander turned and walked into the first meeting room and Kale followed closely behind. Kale knew there was a heavy talk coming, and he was not particularly excited. This was definitely at a higher caliber than the time he let Roth melt his pen in the third room. It was still stuck to the floor.

“Kale.” Alexander stated his name as he shut the door behind them.

“Yes?” They both sat down.

“We have a problem.” Kale knew Alexander didn’t want to say whatever it was.

“And what would that be?” But he was not yet worried.

“There’s something about you that’s . . . different.”

“Well, I knew that.”

“Sort of. We’ve explained your unique situation, but in reality, there should not be too many noticeable differences between you and the others. You have trained much more quickly probably due to your age, and you have adjusted to the group rather well, probably due to your brother’s presence and assistance.”

“Is there something wrong with that?” Kale was beginning to worry. If Alexander was still holding whatever-it-was back, it must be huge.

“No, not with that. At all. But there is something else.”

“Goddamnit Alex, stop dancing around it!”

“It is not that simple, Kale. This is not the same as the first revelation that was delivered to your puny brain—it is beyond. It is more. It is redefining and—“

“And that wasn’t? Are you diminishing the impact of what I am on my life? Are you saying that was NOTHING?”

“Compared to this? Yes.”

“Is it… bad?” Kale said as he sat back down, not even realizing he had stood in the first place.

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“Satan.”

“Oh. Is this… his fault, or something?”

“No. It is not about fault. It is about reaction. Whether Satan reacts. Or whether he leaves you alone.”

“Which is more likely?”

“The former.” Alex’s face had not moved except for his minor anger outburst. Kale started to note this as a pattern among them. They tended to be rather emotionless.

“So back to the original question. What happened to me?”

“You’re more powerful than we thought, even after these two years.”

“How is that a bad thing?”

“You may or may not be a temptation for Satan to, shall we say, desire your assistance.”

“Stop putting it lightly. What does that mean?”

“You have potential to be summoned and directly influenced—no, coerced by Satan to be his right hand.” Upon seeing the look of horror on Kale’s face, Alex continued hurriedly, “It is not a sure thing, like I said. But we need to prepare for it.”

“But I’m redeemed. How could he know?”

“Ever since the Fall of man, Satan has had this world in his hands. He knows more than you think.”

“Couldn’t he have figured it out way before now, if he’s that powerful?”

“Not necessarily. He is not able to read minds. Blake is one of few who can. Satan relies on spies or Watchers to reveal things to him. This would not be an issue, except for the fact that we do not know who the spies are or where they are. They can take many forms; they could have been watching us at any time.”

“Could they be watching us now?”

Kale did not receive an answer. Alex simply bowed his head for a moment and breathed before taking his hands apart and off the table and walking to the door.

“Since you obviously do not need to be led through the darkroom, I will give you as long as you need. Come back to the third room when you’re ready.”

The second Alex stepped through the doorway Kale could not see or hear him. That was the quality of the darkroom. It was nothing. Or, it was supposed to be nothing. Kale knew differently now. He began to wonder just how many things went on in his life that he did not notice were different, and how many more things he had yet to figure out.

Chapter Five

“You said yourself it was inevitable. It was bound to happen, just not anytime soon, that you could see. It was something further off in the future, as long as nothing significant happened.” Kenton.

“Something significant happened.” Blake.

“We should have known sooner.”

“That’s not possible—“ Alex.

“WE SHOULD HAVE KNOWN SOONER.” Corten paused. “This could have been avoided completely.”

“SIR, BELOVED CORTEN. I APOLOGIZE FOR THE SAKE OF OUR DISRESPECT, BUT I BELIEVE NONE COULD HAVE FORESEEN THE NEW FORM TAKEN UP IN BELOVED KALE.” Roth.

Everyone was arguing. There were spurts of silence and spurts of yelling, most of the time so much yelling that no one person could be heard. That was the first intelligible section of the conversation in an hour. Kale still continued to sit quietly, no input or comments. They were arguing about him. He didn’t need to be there, especially since he had nothing to add, but they figured he needed to be a part of it. It was his life and future they were planning. Protecting.

“I simply do not understand how in two years of training, education, exercises, and mind reading for God’s sake, we could not have even thought of it.”

“It is not as if there was anything to precede him. He is the first.”

“Hopefully not the first of many.”

“We have no way of knowing.”

“But we do know we need to figure out a plan of action. Satan knows, and he’s coming, and we need to be ready.”

“How do you begin to prepare for Satan?”

“Right. None of us has even heard from or seen him in at least a decade.”

“And Kale has never seen or heard from him.”

“That’s a strange thought. How do you prepare to fight something you’ve never experienced?”

“Would you all stop talking about me like I’m not in the room?” The quick chatter was silenced, and every head in the small room turned to look at Kale. “It has been almost two hours, and I would like to go home. I don’t care if you plan something without me. I won’t have anything to offer anyway. Please just let me leave.”

“You may leave whenever you desire, youngling.” Kenton did not often address him, and no one had called him youngling in a long while. Kale could not bring himself to care as he sauntered slowly over the few feet between his chair and the edge of the room, mumbling over his shoulder.

“Kent. Blake. Cort. Enny. Roth-my-man. Alex.” He envisioned Alexander tensing at the use of his nickname, but the demon did nothing. Kale continued out the door. “Nighty night now.”

NaNo Day 14

By now, I should have twice the word count I did when I posted last time, but it's been a difficult ride. I told myself up until the week before that I would notnotnot do NaNo this year. I had no time, and that is completely true. I started nonetheless, and I'm glad I did, but I will not be reaching 50k this year.
Maybe next fall when I'm taking 14 credits and not going home every second I'll actually get close.

Current word count: 14,350
Anyway. Here's the entirety of chapter 3 that I thought I posted but apparently didn't. Excuse the length. (and the over-cheeseyness of it all)

Chapter Three

Kale opened his eyes and found himself on the floor, covered in sweat. He could not remember his dreams, but he remembered the pain he felt while in them. It was an indescribable pain—not in the sharpness, but in the emotion of it. He didn’t feel depressed or worthless. He simply felt weak. He was angry, but not irate. He thought the discovery meant he would soon be standing over someone putting a knife in their chest or mauling them with the claws he was sure to grow at some point.

However, it still took him several hours to pull himself away from his apartment and find something to eat. He looked at his watch upon reaching a café. It read 4:35pm. The shop was almost empty except for two elderly couples who almost mirrored each other on opposite sides of the room. Kale ordered a sandwich and sat down where he could see out the window.

People walked briskly down the sidewalk; they were almost invisible. They all blended into each other, and the cars rushing behind them did not make the scene any less trippy. Kale felt separated from the unnecessary mess of people and machines. He felt outside.

One man who passed the window stared at Kale while he walked. That was the last free moment Kale had.

He stood up, threw away the rest of his food, and stormed out the doors and down the sidewalk. It took him only 20 minutes of angered steps to reach the mysterious building that held the darkroom and most of his memories of Corten. The stairs were behind him in seconds, and before Kale knew he was there, he was banging on the door with the force of a police officer with a warrant for arrest.

There was no sound from inside the building until the door opened dramatically. Kale’s eyes met Corten’s as he stood on the other side.

“You promised me answers.” Kale demanded.

“I knew you’d come back.” Corten answered without a single emotion crossing his face. He did not scold Kale for his demands, but welcomed him inside with a step back and a swing of his arm.

“Where are you depositing me today?”

“There will be no deposits for a long while now.” Corten closed the door and faced Kale.

“No other poor youngling souls to destroy?”

“Your soul was destroyed a long time ago. You simply weren’t aware of it.”

Kale did not ask what that meant. He would wait a little longer and receive the full story of what he was and why he was not aware of it.

“Shall we?” Corten led Kale down the short hall for what felt like the hundredth time that week. They passed through the darkroom, Corten guiding Kale by his arm, and entered the closet-looking meeting room. Again. Kale sat, and Corten stood behind the chair opposite him.

“Is this the only room through that door?” Kale asked.

“Of course not. There’s the darkroom, this one, and two others. The darkroom is the only unique room in this section of the floor, though. The other three are identical in every way. We use them for meetings, presentations, negotiations, and a few other things.”

“Will you tell me the other things at some point?”

“There’s no sense in hiding anything from you now, but you wouldn’t understand some of the things we do quite yet, so I won’t befuddle your mind.”

“Fair enough.” Kale nodded. “Are you planning to sit and tell me what happened to my life?”

“Explanations, yes, but I will not sit right now. I was waiting for your questions to end so I could fetch some of the boys.”

“The boys?”

“Blake, Enya, and Alexander are in the other room. They can help explain.”

“Oh. I’ve never heard you refer to them that way before.”

“Human habit. My apologies. Can you contain yourself for a moment while I fetch them?”

“Sure.”

Corten left one meeting room and presumably went to another. In a minute or two, he was back with Blake, Enya, and Alexander trailing him. The door was closed, and everyone sat down besides Corten. He instead leaned against the door and shut his eyes.

“You all go ahead. I need to collect my thoughts.” Corten said to no one in particular.

“Well then,” Enya began. “I may as well start. A lot of things will take a while for you to understand. I ask that you be patient with us. You will understand, more than you wish to, in time.”

“I heard that.” Kale remembered those words. They were spoken in his head the day of his adventures in the backwood. “Something said it in my head.”

“Oh, that was probably Blake. He’s been known to listen to your thoughts and give us reports.”

“I’m part of how we know you so well. I kept track of you in the backwood, also. We needed to know where your head was, metaphorically speaking.” Blake explained.

“What exactly do you do? I—I mean, I know Enya said he was a ‘presenter’ or whatever that means. But you didn’t say what you were—are.”

“I remember. I didn’t want to confuse you. At that point, you were not even aware of your supernatural condition. You probably still will not fully understand, but I am a mentem lector. I keep track of thoughts and dreams.”

“And you’ve been keeping track of mine?”

“Precisely.”

“Well that’s easy enough to understand.”

“For now, that is all you need to know about me.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll go next.” Enya spoke. “As you said, I am a presenter. You may have seen one aspect of my job during the ceremony when you came here the first time. Those were my cards. They may have seemed randomly strewn across the table, but they were placed in precise locations to be analyzed. The blue one I selected was the redemption card. I was proposing we send you into the backwood to determine your state of normalcy and dedication. You seemed solid from what Corten had observed so far, but we wanted to be sure so we could reveal your state to you at the same time as your race.”

“So is that what you meant when you said I was ‘redeemed’?”

“Yes. We knew you had taken a permanent human form, but we needed to determine your state of mind, as Blake said. We wanted to be able to tell you that you were redeemed when you woke up. If you hadn’t woken up when Alexander slapped you, that would mean you had yet to be redeemed, and we would have had to retrieve you.”

“Wait. Alexander slapped me? I wondered why my face hurt.” Corten snickered, still against the door.

“He did. It was necessary, I assure you. But it doesn’t matter. You were likely redeemed a long time ago, by someone you no longer know. I’m sure it was an emotional moment. I am sorry you will never be able to remember it.”

“Um… Thank you?”

“You are quite welcome. Now, my job as presenter usually entails planning and describing those plans to the others. Extremely menial stuff. But I am also typically the handler of the younglings—what we call demons who either do not know their heritage or do not have a grasp of their abilities. In your situation, however, you met and connected with Corten first, so he has become your handler.”

“My handler?”

“Don’t be offended by the title. It is merely that. He guides you in the darkroom and interacts with you outside this building. The rest of us are free to take care of the rest of our duties without worrying if you are lost or in the middle of a breakdown or some similar situation. Corten watches you, with a little of Blake’s help in the mental area.”

“That sounds reasonable enough, I guess. Is it strange that I’m taking all of this in without even asking myself if it’s true?”

“You know in yourself what is true. It is your life; you cannot escape it, and you will never be able to deny the realities you face because they are a part of you as much as your flesh is.”

“Well wasn’t that deep for five in the afternoon.”

“Oh, it’s not five in the afternoon,” Corten said, finally opening his eyes and lifting his head from the door.

“How would you know? You’ve practically been sleeping this whole time.”

“I have been doing anything but sleeping, youngling. I have been plotting your imminent doom.”

“Wait, I thought…” Kale momentarily looked frightened.

“I’m joking. I was listening to the conversations and planning my own speech about your history.”

“Oh.”

“Back to the time of day, it is almost seven in the evening.”

“What? How is that possible?”

“Time passes quickly in the darkroom. That is truly the only explanation I can give you at the moment.”

“I… will be sure to remember that.”

“Kale, we know there’s a lot going on in your head right now. We’re willing to give you whatever information you ask for as long as it’s in the right time. We’re also willing to give you space if you need to think or process something apart from our company. If you need to rest, let us know. We will not judge you. We understand you better than everyone.” Alexander’s statement sat in the air for a moment before Kale finally responded with gratitude.

“I appreciate that, I guess. I’m fine, though. I really want to continue. Can we—can you tell me who I am?”

“Sure. Your name is Kale Rietan Perford. You are 19 years of age, and you life in Torman City by yourself. You have no parents or siblings that you know of, and you keep no company. You graduated last year from Torman High School in the top 25% of your class, but you attend no university. You are perfectly content to explore the city by yourself and never accomplish much of anything. About a week ago, you met Corten in line at a café and even after barely knowing him, followed him into a creepy building to meet a creepy, uniform group of men sitting around a table with what you thought were poker cards.

“You were freaked out by everything overall, and extremely confused as well, yet you chose to come back and, ultimately, recently found out you are not who you thought you were—not even of the human race. This fact confused you even more and caused you to be angry toward every last one of us although you know we did nothing we should not have done. You still don’t understand what is going on or what your future holds, but you were willing to return to us for answers, and we are willing to give them to you.”

“Um, wow. Thank you so much for detailing my recent life story.” Kale’s head shook in awe of the rant Alexander had just completed. He chuckled before continuing. “But that wasn’t what I was asking, and you know it. I heard the sarcasm in your voice.”

“Well done. You can detect simple tonal qualities. Now, we must strongly consider creating a course in which you can learn how to ask better questions. What did you really want to know, since everything I just told you was supremely obvious?”

“My past. I want to know where I came from, how I managed to think I was human all that time, why I can’t point to anything abnormal in my entire childhood that makes being a demon make sense.”

“We’ve taken measures to assure that you didn’t find out until we couldn’t keep it from you any longer. Those specific measures are not particularly important. We may tell you someday. Your parents were both demons as well, the same type and heritage of course. You were too young to realize it when they were sacrificed, which is why you were never told, and why you don’t know them. The fact that you are redeemed kept you from experiencing ‘abnormalities’ as you call them.”

“Why were my parents sacrificed?”

“They were chosen. It was not up to them, and your presence in their lives did not change the fact that they had to uphold their duty.”

“Who chose them?”

“Satan, who else?”

“That… is not what I expected you to say.”

“What did you expect me to say?”

“I don’t know, some committee or leader.”

“Satan is the leader. He makes all the decisions.”

“Okay. I guess that makes sense. You keep saying I’m ‘redeemed’. What does that mean? How does it work?” Everyone had remained still through Kale’s conversation with Alexander until this point. Corten walked around the table as they continued to talk and took a chair, sliding it away from those next to him, and directed it away from the table. Kale could only see his profile as he sat in the chair.

“Redemption is something that a demon cannot do themselves. You cannot redeem your own body. Someone close to you has to do it for you. You were redeemed by your brother.”

“How? What do they have to do?”

“Many believe it involves petitioning Satan for the freedom of the other. Others think it has to come from a human sacrifice. Still others do not believe it can happen at all, or that it can fail very easily.”

“Which one is the truth?”

“All three. The sacrifice of a human is the least truthful of the three, as it does not involve a human in most successful cases. Those who believe it often choose to so that they do not have to sacrifice themselves, which results in a more complete redemption. If the sacrifice is a demon, it is more wholly powerful and long-lasting, if the redeemed party wishes it to be once they are of age and understanding.”

“I’m not sure I got all of that, but it’s whatever. You said my… brother sacrificed himself for me?”

“Yes. It was more effective than any we had ever seen before.”

“I did not know I had a brother.”

“You wouldn’t. The sacrifice does not result in complete annihilation of the subject, but it damages them. It is much more difficult for them to be redeemed after the fact. Redemptions are rare.”

“Is there any chance my brother will ever be redeemed? Could I do it?”

“Your case is an unusual one; that is what made it so powerful. Your brother was redeemed before his sacrifice.”

“So, what does that mean for him?”

“He has been damaged, as the sacrifice does, but the damage was not permanent as we expected it to be. It has actually strengthened him quite significantly. He has his temper tantrums—they are almost like echoes of the incident—but he has benefited from it more than any of us could have imagined.”

“Can I… Is he in hell?”

“No, he is here.”

“Will I ever meet him?”

“You already have.” Corten angled his head down as Alexander spoke and began tapping patterns onto the table next to him.

“What? What do you mean?”

“Corten is your brother.”

Kale looked at him in awe. He finally understood the connection they had—he thought he had imagined it. He understood why he trusted Corten without reason. He understood why Corten was his handler, why he offered rides and food and comfort. He understood why Corten was always tense when the group was talking about Kale like he wasn’t in the room listening, and he knew the meaning of every sympathetic glance he had ever received from him. Everything made sense like it had failed to before. Kale’s life was completely a result of his brother, the brother he never knew but always trusted.

Corten had not moved for a few minutes, his hand resting on his knee. The man didn’t even seem to be breathing. He simply stared into the floor in front of him, looking afraid of the situation he found himself in.

“LOOK AT ME!” Kale yelled. Corten’s hand startled and his head snapped up, eyes wide. The two looked at each other for a moment, Corten’s eyes slowly relaxing and his body turning to align with his head. Kale tried to speak multiple times, but no words came out. Finally, he choked and took in a shuddering breath. Kale could see the fear still present in Corten’s eyes.

“Thank you,” Kale whispered, and Corten let out a heavy breath he seemed to have been holding in. “I know I don’t really understand, but thank you.”

“Kale, the fact that you’re thanking me means you understand plenty. You’re welcome. I’m glad you’re here.” Corten smiled through tears silently streaming down his face, then stood up and walked around the table. Kale stood to meet him in an embrace he never thought would feel so complete. They both laughed and patted each other on the back.

“You knew who I was,” Kale said as he pulled back enough to look Corten in the face. “Last week in the café, you recognized me. That’s why you asked about my book.”

“I just had to know if it was you. I heard your voice, and I was sure, and I just had to try to tell you. I wanted you to understand.” Corten dropped his hands from Kale’s shoulders so they were simply standing facing each other. “After our first few conversations, I knew it would do you more good than harm. You seemed so okay with your life being so empty. I knew it could be more. I wanted you to have that option. And, now, here you are. Here’s your option.” Corten stretched his arms to either side, making a vague gesture to the room and the other men and Kale’s possibility for a meaningful future. “Is this okay?”

“This is… more than I knew I could have.” Kale smiled and tilted his head to the left a little. “I almost don’t know what to do with myself.”

“Join us!” Corten exclaimed a little too quickly and enthusiastically. “I mean, if you want. I want you to join us. We can teach you everything.”

“I want to join you. I’m already a part, in a way. I guess there’s more to find out, though.”

“So much more. Welcome. Are you ready to start?”

NaNo Day 7

Current word count: I won't say, because I'm a little *cough*a lot*cough* behind right now...
I've struggled getting into Kale's past, mostly because I don't really know or understand it yet myself. Also, I know almost nothing about demonology (which my wonderful roommate has promised to remedy if I wish) so the story may be awkward or slow from here on. Fair warning. Here's the aftermath of Alexander's announcement and the end of chapter 2. Enjoy!

“WHAT… am I?” His hands slammed down on the table in punctuation. For a moment there was nothing but silence. Then Alexander spoke.

“A demon.” Alexander looked down then. All the men’s eyes were focused away from Kale, as if they were giving him a moment to accept and process the news. The room spun. Some of the dizziness from the scene of the backwood returned.

Kale simply sat in silence as his mind raced out of control. This was not like the movies, where all of a sudden things from his past make sense. Nothing makes sense. Nothing was sure. He should not trust the men around the table, but he could not stop from seeing them as long lost brothers from a world he had never known.

He ran his hands over his face only to find he was crying. This added to the distress, and Kale pounded the table a second time and began to sob. Thoughts and images of the animal he had killed came to his mind. He could smell the blood again, and his hands started to shake. The men around the table continued to look around the room. Surely they must have felt horrible about giving Kale this news. Surely they would comfort him in some way.

“Really, this is the best thing,” Corten said. “You’ll finally have something to belong to.”

“And THAT’S what I should be THINKING right now?” Kale responded.

“Well we—“

“NO. You do NOT get to say what you think or how you feel or what ANY of you are going to do about it. You have no right to say anything except ‘I’m sorry’ right now.”

“We didn’t want it to go this way. We had something planned.”

“Oh, so now you’re planning ways to ruin my life.”

“I know you don’t want to hear it—“

“You’re right; I don’t. Get me out of here before I kill all of you just like that thing from the backwood.”

“Fine. Let’s go.” Corten stood and grabbed Kale’s arm before leading him out of the room, through the darkness and the hallway, outside, down the stairs, and into Corten’s car. They drove in silence. Kale could tell Corten was avoiding him for his own sake, and maybe that was for the best. They really weren’t very good friends in the whole scheme of things. Kale let his mind drift, and some of the adrenaline left him, leaving him exhausted and apathetic. Corten opened his door for him when they reached the building and stood by the car waiting for Kale to get out. Kale gave Corten a disappointed look before walking away and going inside without a word.

Kale kicked off his shoes right inside the door of his apartment and dropped his jacket right on top of them. He rubbed his forehead with one hand and staggered into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. He hadn’t eaten in several hours, but his appetite was nonexistent. Sitting at the small round table in the dining room reminded him too much of the darkroom, so he walked to the couch and sat without turning on the TV. He just wanted to think.

You’re not even human.

Did Corten mean to say that? Obviously the men were planning on telling him at some point, but from the looks of it they needed more information before they could make a judgment about what he was. They needed something from the backwood to tell them about him. What had he done? Should he have let the animal maul him instead of killing it? Should he not have fallen asleep? Did he pick up the machete too fast after it hit the ground?

There really wasn’t a way of knowing what or why or how on his own. They promised they would explain, and Kale would make sure they followed through with their promise.

I just find it so amusing sometimes to watch you try to be a man. I mean, all things considered.

Was Corten mocking him when he left him in the backwood? Before he knew it, Kale had grabbed the stack of magazines scattered across the floor next to the couch and was throwing them at the wall beside the TV. He watched with a scowl on his face as the paint chipped and the drywall crumbled in tiny pieces.

Collapsing back on the couch, Kale knocked over his water with his foot and realized he had stopped caring. His eyes closed. He began to examine every strange moment of his life in detail. It was terribly hard to remember when his mind felt clouded with something foreign. He felt powerless and out of control. The world drifted away and all that was left was the answer to the worst question Kale had ever asked.

What am I?

A demon.

NaNo Day 5

Current word count: 6,530 (still writing for today)
If you want to track my progress more closely or be my "writing buddy" my NaNo username is "theloveofinches"
Here's the next installment of chapter 2!

Don’t run.

The creature had broken into a jog and with a few more steps it leapt into the air toward Kale’s head. Kale held up the machete and turned his face away, quickly closing his eyes.

There was a slicing thud as the animal fell onto the weapon’s point and slid down it at an unnatural speed. Kale could not support its weight as it thrashed on top of him. He did not feel the bruises forming on his shoulder and knee as he escaped from under the writhing form. The creature did not get back up. It lay spilling its blood as it lay across a fallen tree underneath Kale. It slid slowly further down until Kale could not see or hear it any longer.

If that thing was the worst of my trouble, I might be okay here.

Kale began to traverse the broken forest, wanting to escape the increasingly rancid stench of blood and dying flesh before it caused him to vomit. Finding a place still somewhat distant from the white edge of the area, he sat with his back to a fallen tree. The patch of grass he managed to find was relatively soft, but he was almost hyperventilating from the animal’s attack, and the grass would have to wait, along with sleep he very well needed. It would have been so easy to lay his head back and rest. It would have been so easy to just follow Corten out of the forest before this even began. Why had he stood motionless in that clearing? Why had he blamed the other man for his misfortunes? Corten had never done much to control Kale besides telling him to stop asking such stupid questions. Kale realized now why his questions had been stupid.

Where are we going?

How is Rothdrak the sun of Enya?

Do you work at all?

The last one challenged Kale’s mind the most. He had yet to understand what exactly these men did for a living or why, but he had an idea it had nothing to do with anything Kale had heard of. It was likely not of the government. It couldn’t have been anything normal.

You’re not even human.

The questions did not come like he expected they would. Instead of wondering about every possibility, he felt more sure in the unknown of his identity and being than he ever had when he was in control of his life. Perhaps this was his inner adrenaline junkie making itself known. Perhaps Kale was simply running on too little sleep, and Corten could have slipped something into his drink at lunch.

Either way, there was no chance of Kale drifting off propped against the log, in the too bright but seemingly sunless white domed field. He did zone out for a long while, though. The air in front of him filled with spots and shadows in the nothingness. His neck could no longer support the weight of his thoughts. His head lolled and swayed, his eyes blinking unnaturally fast. His mind scrambled for something solid to grasp.

Without warning, Kale’s arms dropped, and his body relaxed, appearing lifeless to the sleeping forest and the sky of white fire, the smell of the dying creature finally drifting over him, and the blood on his weapon drying in the heat.

--

Kale awoke suddenly with a stinging pain in the right side of his face and a stick poking sharply into his side. Upon his eyelids opening, he was met with the sight of Alexander, Kenton, and Roth. He could also see a glimpse in the corner of his eye of Corten’s off-white shirt that he was wearing the night before. They did not rejoice at his awakening, but only stared at him with tilted heads and twitching fingers. Corten’s hands were hidden behind his back, as usual. He did not seem disappointed or surprised, much unlike the mixtures of those and other emotions displayed on the faces of the other three men.

“Did I survive?” Kale asked, honestly wanting an answer. He couldn’t tell yet if the backwood was a room, a forest, heaven, or some sort of limbo. But all the men laughed heartily. A small squeak could be heard in Alexander’s fading chuckle as Kenton responded.

“Finally, youngling, you have asked a good question—” There was another snort from Roth’s general direction “—I  believe we should go into the darkroom and discuss your current state before I respond, however.”

“Alright. Someone help me up? I’m not sure how my head is right now.”

Alexander offered his hand and lifted Kale up with ease. His head dizzied for a short moment before stilling. Kale looked around with his blur-less vision as they walked and noted that the tree he rested on was the only one remaining in the backwood. He thought to ask whether this was normal, if the trees would grow back, where they went, and why they fell in the first place, but he did not want to ruin his new reputation of asking the good questions. He still expected explanations at some point.

With every tree gone, Kale expected the door he entered through to have appeared where it was previously hidden. Yet there was not a single thing in sight besides the ground, the single tree, and the endless whiteness beyond the borders of the backwood. He tripped over his own foot then, and Corten caught his arm. The man did not look at him. He held the same blank expression that usually graced his face, and simply held onto Kale as they walked. Kale was not sure how he could get lost in such an open space, but perhaps that was not Corten’s reasoning for the gesture.

Finally the group reached the outer limits of the grassed area. The door still hadn’t appeared, and Kale began to question the sanity of these men. Disappearing things, random attacking lion-lizards, darkrooms and white skies and backwoods? What even is a backwood? Obviously it’s complicated, since it involves all those things, but can somehow also be a person.

The whiteness, Kale learned, worked quite like the darkness. It acted almost as a portal between doorways or worlds or maybe universes. He wasn’t sure where they were in time and space when they weren’t in the hallway or somewhere in Torman.

In a matter of seconds according to Kale’s overly occupied mind, they reached the doorway to the darkroom and entered the basement closet where Kale first met the five men. He sat down with ease, and the others surrounded the rest of the table.

“Well, one thing’s for sure,” Alexander began.

“What’s that?” Kale asked, not even bothering to prepare for whatever joke was coming his way.

“You’ve been redeemed.” Alexander looked around at the others, then to Kale, and folded his hands in front of him on the table. Kale held his gaze, not having a clue how to respond. Alexander continued. “You still don’t know what you are—we understand that. We will explain everything—“

“Yes, you’ve said as much,” Kale interjected, his irritation with the promise growing quickly.

“You have to trust us. I know, that can’t be an easy thing to grasp right now. You barely know our names. Why should you believe us when we promise you the world?”

“You sound like you already have an answer to that. Why don’t you just go ahead and tell me.”

“I will. Kale, we know you have no one. You have no family. There are very few people in your life, and many of them are not significant in any way. You lose touch with reality and bring yourself back by finding ways to enjoy yourself. You explore, go out to every place imaginable, yet you never meet anyone or take anyone with you.”

“How do you know all this?”

“We know you better than you know yourself, Kale.”

You’re not even human. The words flashed through his mind again. His eyes dropped to the table, then reverted back up to Alexander.

“What… am I?”

“Please don’t think of this the wrong way. I told you first off, you have been redeemed. That is very good news. It means you have options—“

“WHAT… am I?” His hands slammed down on the table in punctuation. For a moment there was nothing but silence. Then Alexander spoke.

“A demon.” 

NaNo Day 3

Current word count: 4,286 (I haven't written yet today)

Here's the next part of chapter 2 for anyone who's still interested. Enjoy!

"On with you, then." Corten gave him a light shove into the darkness.

Through the darkness was more like it. Kale experienced a brief flash of it before his feet hit the ground in a densely wooded area shaded with almost pastel greens and browns. The trees looked chalky, but the grass beneath his feet was soft as if there were springs below the turf.

He saw a break in the trees and slowly walked through it. There was a path that continued for a little while, winding tightly and almost fully enclosed with thick leaves, branches, and vines. Kale almost had to bend over to stay on it. After a few minutes of walking at a less-than-brisk pace, he glanced backwards and saw that Corten was following closely, surely keeping an eye on me, Kale thought. The next step he took led him around a corner to a clearing in the woods. There, he saw standing in a semi-circle were the five men, all with their hands clasped behind their backs. I need to come up with a group nickname for these guys if they’re gonna be around. Dream Team? Not even close. I’ll come up with something.

Kale nodded at the men, and only Alexander nodded back with a brief smile. The rest looked at their feet. No one spoke. Corten simply completed the circle the men had begun to form and clasped his hands as well. Kale paced around the small clearing waiting for something to happen. He was used to the strange locations at this point, which was shocking enough as he thought about the short amount of time that had passed since he met these men. What was more shocking was when they began to retreat, looking at him one final time before turning back toward the trees and walking away until they were no longer visible in the thick brush.

Soon Corten was the only one of the men still with Kale. He began to follow the path of Kale’s pacing, mirroring his actions unintentionally as they circled the small patch of previously untouched grass. They continued like this for what seemed like an hour until Corten stopped walking all of a sudden. They both spoke at once—

“Shouldn’t we leave, too?”

“It’s time for me to go.”

They looked at each other from where they stood, Corten’s hands put behind his back once more and Kale’s head turning in confusion.

“Why are you going?” Kale questioned, again.

“You really do ask a lot of questions.”

“I just want to know what’s going on!”

“We have all told you—you will find out in time. For now, I must go. You will stay here, and we’ll be back in the morning.”

“In the MORNING? And WHERE do you think you will be going?”

“Stop asking questions! I have told you this countless times and I will NOT say it AGAIN.” Silence fell. They stood several feet from each other breathing heavily. “Now,” Corten continued with a large breath. “Here is what will happen. I will walk away. You will not attempt to follow me out of the woods. You will remain here, preferably in the clearing, though—trust me—I understand if you stray. Do what you need to do, and we will come back in the morning.”

“You have no power over me. You barely know me.”

“I know you better than yourself, Kale.” It was the first time Corten had used Kale’s name in a long time. The shock passed quickly, however. “I just find it so amusing sometimes to watch you try to be a man. I mean, all things considered.”

“What is THAT supposed to mean?”

“You’re not a man, Kale. You’re not even human.”

“What in the world are you talking about?”

“This is your life now.”

“What is?”

“You’ll have to find that out… Alone. We cannot go with you, just like no one went with us. Think of it as a type of hazing.”

“What is it?”

“I’m sorry. I wish I could tell you, but even I know it’s easier this way. I’ll see you on the other side. My advice: don’t run. You better come back with your shield, or on it, as they say.”

Corten walked away, glancing back once to throw out a small salute and a sympathetic smirk. Kale stood in the clearing and gaped at Corten’s back until he disappeared between the trees.

“So you’re just gonna LEAVE ME HERE?” he shouted. There was no response from the solemn forest. Kale continued to stare as he sank to his knees and allowed his bottom lip to quiver. Less than a day before, none of this had happened. He had known his life better than anyone. Now, dropped in the middle of what couldn’t possibly be a normal forest, based on Corten’s warning, he had no idea where he was, what he was, or what he was expected to do. He had the feeling something was about to happen, and he could only hope it would help him answer some of those questions he dared to ask at the basement closet poker game.

The ground shook, and Kale jumped to his feet. Just as he was about to find a place to duck and cover, a machete sped to the ground beside him, narrowly missing his left foot. It did not startle him one bit. There was sureness in the way he bent down and gripped the handle. Returning to an upright position with the weapon in hand, the shaking ceased. Kale looked around, wondering where he could be. He no longer believed he was on the third floor of an apartment building.

He wasn’t even sure he was in the real world anymore. It felt like hours, but it was only a minute between the end of the shaking and the trees around him starting to collapse. One by one, they began to fall into the clearing. It was easy enough for Kale to avoid them until there were enough stacked on top of each other that he could hide underneath them.

Maybe I play too many video games, he thought, questioning the instinct that told him to do these things and kept him from what he thought was the end of everything. I don’t even know what’s going on here. What if I can’t survive until the morning? Will I never know what or where I am? And why?

A few minutes passed after the last tree had fallen, and Kale began to climb out from under the branches. When he was on top of the pile, he could see to all sides, but after a hundred yards or so of fallen trees, there was nothing but blank whiteness. It was supposed to be dark outside. Kale checked his watch, which was ticking at its normal speed toward 9 p.m.

This does not look like 9 p.m.

The entire sky was white as well. The only color anywhere around besides Kale’s clothing was in the bland trees lying beneath his feet, and whatever he saw beginning to crawl out from between them 20 yards or so to his right. It was not human. It was not small. It was possibly not anything he’d ever seen before. Not that that would be unusual. I’m seeing a lot of new things lately.

Kale judged that the creature was about three feet tall and a few more long. It somewhat resembled a lion, but it was mane-less, and its body moved like a lizard. Golden fur moved with the invisible wind. It approached Kale slowly, as if ready to pounce on prey. He held his ground for a moment, watching the thing almost slither toward him. It moved fluidly from one tree to another, up and down like water over hills and into valleys.

Suspicion grew in Kale’s mind with every step the creature took. By the time it was several yards away, it was moving much quicker, and Kale was reminded almost too late of Corten’s words.

Don’t run.

NaNo Day 2

Current word count: 3,791
Here's the first part of Chapter 2 for your reading pleasure. Enjoy!

Chapter Two

Two days later, Kale once again found himself in Corten’s company. They had run into each other strolling through a park and decided to have lunch. Neither was in a great hurry, Kale being occupation-less and Corten being who-knows-what when it came to his daily activities. Kale was frequently glad his parents had left him enough inheritance to not require an immediate transition from high school to college. Instead, he spent lazy summer days tracing paths through Torman City and getting to know his surroundings as well as possible, including every café and restaurant he came across. He was not sure of his long-term aspirations, but he never wanted much to be a known entity. He was perfectly content without a job, family, or too many friends surrounding him. Those things meant pressure, and Kale did his best to stay away from pressure.

He was curious about Corten, though. The man had practically dropped into his life without warning one day on the bus. Corten seemed intent on getting to know Kale, as if he had a mission of sorts, yet Kale did not view him as the type to pressure, so he allowed it. They were friends within a few days. Kale had all the time in the world to do as he pleased, and Corten seemed to always be free, so they met for meals a few times and a basement closet poker game once—that mysterious night blended into Kale’s mind as normal almost too quickly for his liking. He felt like he was part of a movie, and until he stopped enjoying the strangeness and unpredictability, he would continue to go along with the games of his new acquaintances.

“Where are we eating today?” Corten asked.

“There’s a burger I want to try at a place around the corner.”

“Alright.”

“Do you work? At all?”

“Work? Do I have a job?”

“Yes, a job. Do you have a job?”

“Yes. Of course I have a job.”

“Um. What is it?”

“Why do you ask?”

“You never seem to be busy. Ever.”

“I work different hours than most people.”

“What, like night shift?”

“Something like that.”

Kale gave up. Maybe it was too soon or it was some top secret government thing. That would make sense considering the events that transpired a few nights before. There was quiet as they entered the restaurant and sat down at a booth. They ordered, and the food was served, and still they didn’t speak to each other. Kale felt odd—he knew nothing about this man. The man knew nothing about him. They ate. The burgers were perfectly adequate. They paid, stood, and left, walking back the way they had come. It was a monotonous walk, steps aligned and breeze blowing the same warmth of the day before. Corten’s mind was brewing with something; it was obvious on his face. Kale was overwhelmed by curiosity, but held back his thoughts. He was still hesitant to ask too many questions. He seemed to be quite bad at it as a whole.

There were very few words exchanged as they eventually parted ways at the start of the sky’s darkening and headed to their respective places of residence. Kale wanted to know more. He was not sure what, but he wanted to know something.

In time, the voice in his head told him. You will understand more than you wish to, in time.

--

Kale stepped again into the hallway that had once been covered with tarp. It was now clear of any excess plastic, and Kale was surprised to discover that there were other doors in the hall. He assumed the darkroom had been the only one on the floor. Corten and Enya followed him inside, and Corten closed the door. Kale continued down the hall, but Enya grabbed his sleeve and pulled him back.

"We're not going there this time. The darkroom will wait a little longer for your second entrance." Enya did not explain further, but Kale was accepting of the information he did receive.

"Where are we going, then?" Kale asked.

"The backwood." Corten spoke as he guided Kale with a hand against his sholder to the second door on the right, almost opposite the turn that led to the darkroom.

"Wait, I thought Kenton was the backwood."

"Kenton is a backwood, yes. But that is not his full occupation. We are taking you to his namesake. The backwood." Kale tried to turn the doorknob to no avail.

"Why is this locked?"

"What did I say about questions?"

"Learn to ask better ones or don't ask them at all."

"Very good, youngling. It is not locked, you are simply not able to open it at the moment."

"Okay, so you open it."

"Perhaps you should avoid demands as much as questions. They do not suit you well." Corten did open the door, however, and another darkness was on the other side, but it was not the same quiet, hopeless darkness of the darkroom. Kale decided not to ask why it looked exactly the same but felt different.

"On with you, then." Corten gave him a light shove into the darkness.

Announcing.... NaNoWriMo 2012!

This story came out of nowhere, and I have no idea where it's going from here. I have the second half of chapter 2 written as well, bringing me up to a word count of 2,588 as of the publishing of this post. I will probably write more tonight so I am ahead for the weekend.

Anyway. I stole a character name from last year's NaNo, but he is not the same person whatsoever. I am incredibly proud of this story already, and I hope others may come to enjoy it as much as I am so far. Here's the introduction and the first chapter. Enjoy!

Intro

It would not have been a big deal at all to just tell Kale he should have left a long time ago, but Corten couldn’t bring himself to do it. When the others in the group suggested going to the darkroom, Kale obviously didn’t know what he was getting into. It was too late, anyway, and Kale was going to be a part of this eventually. He may as well start to understand.

The rest of the world kept spinning while Corten and the rest of the group walked down the short hallway that had been recently covered with a large tarp from top to bottom, including the ceiling and floor. They stepped in silence, leaving room for the crinkling plastic to drag with their reluctant feet. Turning the only corner, all five of the unfamiliar men stepped aside, narrowing the path of the hallway, and looked to Kale. Kale looked to Corten with a wide but suspicious gaze, and Corten nodded forward. He then led the way to the door and opened it inward to reveal a darkness Kale had never before experienced. It was not just void of light, but of happiness and sound as well. Without a word or breath, Kale passed through the doorway and was immediately engulfed in the darkness. Only a foot or two within the room, he could no longer see the men or the hallway he remembered leaving behind. He could only see the unending, unsympathetic darkness.

Chapter One

Kale stepped a little too quickly into the room and looked around. There were six men present, one of them being Corten, the only familiar face in the small crowd. It was a small room, almost like a closet. There was hardly space to get up and down from your seat. Cards were spread around the table, but they were not the normal playing cards you would see at a basement poker game, and this was not a basement. The men all lifted their heads in unison when Kale entered the room. None spoke, but Corten rose from his seat to offer it to Kale. Kale sat down cautiously.

Corten's hands found Kale's shoulders and squeezed them lightly. They had only met a few days before, but Kale was suddenly a part of this basement closet poker game. Deciding whether this was a good idea or not was no longer an option. He was here. He was seated. And his only exit was blocked off by a man only slightly older and very unfamiliar. None of the men looked at him after Corten stood up. They were focused on the cards. Kale thought one might have moved without being touched, but he blew it off as a stray breath someone took.

The man to his right grabbed a blue card from across the table and held it up, as if to show it off to the group. The man it had previously been in front of nodded, and glanced at Kale before standing next to Corten. It was intimidating, this unknown man hovering over him, but Corten's hands were still rested on his shoulders. The man holding the blue card turned to Kale, also.

"Do you know why you are here?" he asked.

"Am I supposed to? You asked if I wanted to see the darkroom; I said yes." Kale answered.

"Why did you want to?"

"I don't know. What should I have said?"

"You answer a lot of questions with questions."

"Well, maybe I want answers."

"If you want answers, you must ask much better questions, youngling." Corten chimed in, placing his hands back by his sides and walking around what little of the table he could. "But because I sympathize with the youth, I believe we should answer some of the questions he has asked." Corten addressed the rest of the group.

"Why am I a youth? You're only 20 yourself." Kale stated.

Corten did not answer his question. Instead he asked, "Why are you all so resistant to him? He knows nothing, yet you treat him as an enemy. He walks into this hellhole blindly, probably having suspicions of its possible dangers, and you disrespect his willingness?"

"They haven't said anything..."

"Quiet. This may concern you, but it is not your matter to question. Enya was right. You need to resist your desire to know, and let us teach you." So Enya was his name. At least one of the men was opened up a little more. That left four, but four was a number Kale didn't have any large desire to deal with at the moment.

"Just one more thing."

"No."

"But I--"

"I said NO." Kale had risen from his seat and Corten was now towering over him with a hand around the collar of his shirt. "You are NOT to ask any more questions. I apologize for my sudden brashness, but you need to remain quiet now. Trust me." Kale was instantly reluctant to trust the unfamiliar man and had opened his mouth to speak, but closed it after glancing into Corten's eyes. They seemed to be filled with white fire.

He let go of Kale and straightened his shirt, then stepped away. Kale was immobile for a short moment's time. Corten opened the door and stepped out into the endless darkroom. Kale wondered how they could see in that horrible black fluff. It gave off such a tingled feeling as he walked through it that he wondered if it was just darkness, or something more. Definitely something more, he thought. There was an emptiness in the room after the door closed behind Corten, and all the men returned their gazes to Kale. Enya spoke again, startling Kale.

"So. We got off on the wrong foot. As you may have picked up, I am Enya. I am a presenter. You'll know what that means soon enough."

"And I'm Kenton, the lefty." Everyone laughed. "Okay, that's my nickname. I am a backwood. Same thing Enya said--you'll understand soon."

"I will be called Blake, for the time being. However, I tend not to have a name to most… people. And I won’t even bother telling you what I am right now. I add the common disclaimer of my friends.”

“This makes absolutely no s—” Kale began.

“AND I AM ROTHDRAK, SUN OF ENYA,” another one of the dark-haired men said with a deep, booming voice.

“Wait, how are you his son? You don’t look older than 25.” Kale observed.

“Not his son, youngling. His sun.” Kenton said, motioning toward the ceiling. “Like, the one in the sky.”

“That makes even less sense.”

“I can imagine,” Enya stated. “But you will understand. I promise you that. And please ignore Roth. He gets excited when we do introductions. It doesn’t happen often.”

“Whatever you say. Please continue. I don’t believe I’ve met…” Kale looked over toward the man sitting calmly on the opposite side of the table.

“Alexander,” the blond man offered. “Do not call me Alex. I don’t mean for that to sound like a threat, but it may as well be. It’s nice to finally make your acquaintance.”

“Yours as well.” There was a time of silence where the men looked awkwardly between each other and the ground. Corten chose that moment to reenter the space, jolting every occupant from their thoughts.

“Are we all ready now to proceed?” Corten asked. There was a murmured consensus, and Corten held the door open for the men as they shuffled one at a time into the darkroom. As Kale hesitantly approached the opening, Corten grabbed his upper arm and held him in place. That white fire had long disappeared, and he had a look of understanding. Corten seemed to almost smile as he nodded his head and led Kale into the room.

The darkness was almost familiar now. Perhaps it was the recency of his last visit to the room, but it was unnerving for Kale. He felt attached to the place since meeting the men who seemed to be its only inhabitants—can they be called that?

The light returned as Corten released Kale back into the hallway. None of the other five men were there. Kale wondered if they had left or if they remained in the darkroom to take care of some poker-esque card-related business. His question was answered as he turned the corner and saw them standing in a close group and talking to one another by the door at the other end of the hall. They did not stop speaking as Kale approached, but the tones of their voices changed and their browlines flattened out and they stood up straighter. They looked as if they were avoiding suspicion of a drug deal. Kale was not sure he was prepared to hear what they were saying in the first place, so he disregarded the uneasy feeling in his stomach.

“Wait one moment before you depart.” Kale heard Corten’s voice from behind him and stopped to turn around. He nodded once, and Corten disappeared again, back into the darkroom, Kale assumed. When he again approached the group of men, Kale was not sure how to greet them. They were not friends. He barely remembered their names. Enya, Alexander-doesn’t-like-to-be-called-Alex, Roth-I’m-a-fiery-ball-of-gas, Kensomthing, and mister-I-have-no-name-Blake, he recounted in his head as he glanced from one to the other.

They had all looked so similar at first observation while sitting around the table. But now, Kale could see the pin-width black tattoo-looking lines under Blake’s hair, the extra wrinkles around Enya’s eyes, and the smallness of Alexander’s nose. Alexander was also the only blond one of the group—Kale had noticed that immediately. The other four men had dark heads of hair, some with brownish tints in places and others pure jet-black. They were all so similar at a glance, and they all seemed perfectly content to ignore Kale as he observed their actions. He was sure he would know these men longer than a day, or they would not have bothered to introduce themselves and offer such assurances of his future understanding. He had almost begun to pick up on their conversation when Corten snuck up behind him and placed his hands back on Kale’s shoulders.

“Are you ready to go? I can take you back to your building.” Corten offered. Kale had forgotten that he was not the one who drove to the mysterious building and would have had significant trouble returning home.

“Sure. Thank you.” Corten opened the door, and Kale walked out onto the metal staircase where a warm breeze accosted his hair. He stomped unceremoniously down the two flights of stairs as if holding back all of his energy while inside the building. Reaching the alley, he let Corten walk slightly in front of him, leading the way to his car.

“You know, this is going to be a grand ol’ time once we get you used to things. There won’t be any more slouching around hallways or darkrooms. I know you’ll learn to enjoy it all.” Corten smiled as he walked to the driver’s side of the car. “And who knows—maybe you’ll find one of your own someday. I mean, I’m sure you will.”

Kale was sure he had no idea what Corten meant, but he replied confidently, “Yeah, I’m sure. It’ll be fun.” He sighed as he sat down and sank into the black leather upholstery.

Corten looked at him and smiled again before turning on the car and pulling away from the curb. There were no words exchanged as Kale was dropped off at the entrance to his apartment building, and as soon as he reached his room, he kicked off his shoes and dropped down onto the bed to sleep.

Coming Into Lights

Banging, banging, banging
fists into doors.
Running down hallways,
away from them,
as far away from them
as is inhumanly
possible. The nowhere
where we are going
is not through any of
these doors; it is out.
It is into the open,
through that plastic gate
that you can't just
nudge open.
It requires shoving
and pushing,
all the things
your mother told you
never to do.