Visions 1

House Without a Home

I have the vision to see what others cannot. That’s what my brother told me all those years ago, and what I told myself when he was obliterated from this world with everyone else. The world is a cold and dark place now.

Very few people survived the blasts, and those who remained were decimated by the residual effects of the explosions. I had been what the news would have called one of the lucky few, if there was still news.

Luck had nothing to do with it. My visions had flourished in the back of my mind for much of my life. I couldn’t tell you when they started, even if I cared. What I remembered was the visions of the blasts long before the eradication of all the world as I knew it. I warned my family, but only my brother heeded my warning and prepared for the approaching darkness. Even with preparation it was useless. The radiation that I seemed to thrive on killed him, his wife, and my young niece and nephew.

Not a day had passed where I hadn’t asked why I was the one that had to muddle through this world alone. I lived out of habit now. Not for my nation, or my family, or my friends, but because it was what I had become used to.

Worst of all was, after the blasts, my visions became more clear, and even jumped into reality upon occasion. With this new level of visions came the need for more control. I couldn’t let the monsters of my imagination soak into reality.

It was another gloomy day, time lost in the dark mist, another day where I searched in a home that had been devastated by the apocalypse. There was little to be found in the wreckage. I looked for anything that could be salvaged. I found bottles of water. I put all but one of them in my pack and moved on.

I got a flash of bright light from my mind. It was happening again.

I saw a small boy in a little ramshackle house frightened by something. He couldn’t have been older than ten. He seemed to be looking directly at me, but I knew from experience that I was not there, just seeing an old memory. This boy was likely long dead.

“I have the vision to see what others cannot,” the boy said as clear as day.

I looked at him in confusion for a split second, then I was thrown out of the vision as soon as it had begun.

It was getting dark, and I didn’t have time to consider the possibilities. With the darkness, the monsters came out to wander the landscape. The twisted abominations that once used to be human, or any number of animals. The ones who weren’t killed, but changed, by the blast.

I saw a house that seemed to have been unharmed by the doom. I would use it as a base of operations for the night. I didn’t plan to die by the monsters tonight, regardless of how half my mind yearned for death. I opened the door and saw an entryway, one that the flames seemed not to have touched in the slightest. There was a dining room to the right, and a hallway to the left leading to more of the house. I could see stairs directly in front of me leading to the upper level of the house.

It was unusual, the pristine look of the house. It would have reminded me of my brother’s home, if my brother ever cleaned, which he didn’t. I smiled at the thought of K. Then I remembered his demise and that of the others that I held most dear and the memories faded to the cold blue of despair.

I turned to see the door. There was a working lock on it, and I twisted it into the locked position. I pulled the curtains closed, and started looking around the house. It was best to be sure that no monsters had taken up residence here before I rested.

I found a living space with a television sitting prominently in the room. It was an unusual sight to see. Looters had taken many personal items when the world went to hell. I was confused, and then I moved to the kitchen, which was in the room adjacent to the living area. I checked the cupboards and cabinets for any useful supplies. To my surprise there were many assorted canned foods, someone was still living here.

Out of respect I left the cans in their places, despite my hunger. I had not seen another living soul since I left my brother’s home, and I didn’t wish to anger the person before meeting them. I decided that the best course of action would be to explore the remainder of the house, to see if anyone was home. Speaking or yelling out wouldn’t be advised given the current hour of day.

I checked the other rooms on the first floor for any other signs of life, only to find none.

I walked upstairs. There was a small gate covering the top that seemed to be for stopping either a dog or a child from going up or down the stairs. I stepped over it without any issue, and as I did a chill ran down my spine.

The upper part of the house seemed normal as well. A computer sat on a corner desk, dust covered the keyboard and screen. It still confused me that this relic of the past remained and had not been stolen in the early days after the coming of darkness. There were two rooms across from one another. I chose to go in the one on my left. It had a plain door, painted a light green. I opened the door cautiously, knowing if I wasn’t careful I could end up frightening the other person if they were in this room.

My caution meant nothing, as there wasn’t anyone in the room. It was a child’s room, one with a light green painted on the walls, and a bed with superhero sheets. A closet filled to the brim with toys and other reminders of the past. A dresser with a mirror atop it. I saw a small blanket on the floor, it looked worn by years of use. My nephew would have loved this room. I felt tears well in my eyes as I remembered them once again. I quickly exited the room, I couldn’t face it any longer.

The other room must’ve been the parent’s room, I assumed. I opened the door, once again cautiously. I heard a faint noise from the other side as I did. It sounded like weeping. My heart pounded, I was quite easily frightened, and hearing that terrified me.

“Excuse me, my name is Jessica, are you alright?” I said, not recognizing my own voice.

The weeping stopped immediately, my pulse quickened.

“I’m not one of the monsters,” I reassured myself and her.

I opened the door to find that no one was there. I certainly wasn’t imagining the crying. Fear overwhelmed me, I stepped back from the room.

“I won’t enter if you don’t want me to,” I said trying to mask my fear.

“I haven’t heard that before.” said an incredibly confident sounding male voice from all around me.

“I don’t want to hurt or disturb anyone,” I said, terror pulsing through my voice now.

“Very well, then go downstairs, don’t disturb us any further and I will let you leave come morning. In fact, help yourself to the food as well. You’ve been quite...what’s the word…polite.”

My body trembled as I moved to leave the upper level of the house. I couldn’t see the man that was speaking, and I couldn’t pinpoint where he was. It was unsettling and perhaps even unnatural.

I had a brief moment of courage and, before I made it to the stairs, I turned around.

“What’s your names?”

There was a long silence.

“I think mine is Alex. Hard to remember these days,” said the disembodied voice.

“Thank you Alex.”

I went downstairs, regardless of whether Alex was honest about letting me leave. I didn’t feel safe, but I would have to eat something. I hadn’t eaten in a few days, and many of the food items remaining in this house were canned so I could be sure they weren’t tampered with. Without another thought I went to the kitchen.

I looked through the cans for a very small amount of time and picked out two that would provide enough sustenance for the time being, a can of beans, and a can of peas.

I couldn’t say I was a fan of peas, but I was glad to have even the smallest amount of food. I only took what I needed since there was still Alex who would have to eat, and whoever was crying upstairs. It didn’t seem right to me that I hadn’t seen them though. There was a chance that the people here had been affected by the after effects of the bombs as well, but I had only encountered monsters and the dead, never someone who lived through all of it, as I had.

I thought about it for a moment. My visions had become clearer due to the blasts, perhaps Alex and his family had some other thing happen to them. I wasn’t quite sure exactly how the blasts worked, but given the horrific state of the monsters outside I assumed it had different effects on different people. Some died, some, like myself, lived with the enhanced effects, and others became mindless husks of their former selves.

My mind drifted off to the child I had seen in my vision. He had said what my brother had told me all those years ago. It didn’t make sense. How would he have seen me and known my past? I pondered it more. If it was a vision of the past he wouldn’t have known the words my brother whispered to me. If it was the future then I would know the boy soon, but it didn’t explain why he was frightened of me. The last option would be that it was the present, but that was also unlikely, given the knowledge of my brother’s words and him seeing me. No one could see me through my vision.

I felt my eyes drift closed as I was thinking about this. I was extraordinarily tired despite the fear I had because of Alex. He seemed kind, albeit, mysterious and scary. Thoughts breezed to the back of my mind and I was whisked away to the land of dreams and nightmares.

There was a shadow sitting in the corner of the house. I didn’t go near it, I was too frightened to move. I couldn’t tell whether this was a vision or reality. If it was a vision I was in no real danger, but if this was real the shadow could be any number of things.

“Jessica,” said a familiar voice from the corner.

I shot up out of the couch I slept in, instantly trying to force myself out of whatever this was. I shut my eyes tight and focused on my reality. Whatever this was, it wasn’t a reality I could be in. Not now.

I opened my eyes once more and found myself alone in Alex’s house.

“Bad dream?” asked a voice from behind me.

I looked around to see nothing but wall behind me, but it was Alex’s voice, that much was sure.

“Where are you?” I asked, startled from the uncanniness of all this.

“I am right here. Why can’t anyone see me? I’ve tried so hard to be found, but everyone pretends to not see me!” he said, obviously growing irritated.

My mind rushed, was he invisible or was there something else to this? He seemed to get irritated too quickly, the same way the people did as they mutated into cruel shadows, but he wasn’t gone yet. Or was he? He didn’t seem to be here, but I couldn’t push the subject for fear of the collapse of the slight trust we had.

“I see you Alex. Could you come sit next to me please,” I said as I took a seated position on the couch.

“Thank goodness… I was getting worried that you were a monster like the others that have come here,” said a disembodied voice, “I’ll sit.”

There was no visible imprint of him on the couch next to me, but I did feel something near me. It was exuding an uncomfortable heat whatever it was.

“What happened to you Alex?”

“What do you mean?”

“After the blasts, how did you survive?”

“I… I just stayed here. My wife and son, they weren’t home. I thought they’d come back, but they must’ve gone like the others.”

“I’m terribly sorry to hear that Alex.”

I used its name to keep it from becoming aggressive, as I knew this creature, whatever it was, was barely hanging onto humanity. I had to either put this creature to rest, or I had to remind it of who it really was.

I had to try to save it.

“What were your wife and son’s names?” I pressed.

There was a long silence.

“Claire and Rob,” it said with clear sadness in its voice, “I almost didn’t remember that. How could I forget my family?”

The question was rhetorical, but I sensed its frightened tone, and it gave me hope. Perhaps it was reachable.

“Maybe seeing Rob’s things will help you remember him,” I suggested.

“I… think that may be a good idea.”

I walked the stairs and felt my heart racing. This feeling of terror never left me regardless of being in this situation before. I held on to that fear, as much as I could, because it kept me human.

I opened the door to Rob’s room and felt the heat pass by me. I followed after it.

There was a long silence.

“He loved this blanket,” Alex said.

Another long pause.

“Why can’t I hold it?” it said, sounding saddened as if it had just found something out.

“Stand here with me Alex,” I said, seeing my reflection in the mirror.

“What am I?”

“You’re Alex… but you’re also something else.”

There was the weeping again, right next to me. It sounded nothing like Alex, but I knew it was.

“I am a monster, just like the ones outside.”

“You are, and I am too. That doesn’t mean that we’re not human. It just means we are different then what we were before.”

“I’ve done unspeakable things… I can’t do this. I’m not human, not without them.”

There was anger, guilt, pain, and a plethora of other emotions in that voice.

“You are human Alex. So long as the pain of their loss is there, you’re still human.”

A long silence.

“I’ll be downstairs when you are ready,” I said.

I left the room and allowed it to mourn.

House Without a Home

There’s a cold darkness in the air

Where the damned are cursed to roam

The dead hearts of man

Walk once again

Free of death

Free of life

Free of burdens

A house of gold

Not touched by fire

A house without a home

One human resides

Free of death

Free of life

Forgetting its burdens

Call into the past

Recall the mast

The sail you made in life

Remember the pain

Remember the shame

Remember the wonderful strife

Forget and you lose

Remember and you win

Forget and you win

Remember and you lose

The burden of humanity

You get to choose

Visions 2

The Gravedigger

I watched as the hero pivoted on their heels to see the villain that had taken up residence in our town. That pivot was all that I needed to fall to my knees and watch in despair as what little I had left succumbed to the darkness of the world. The hero launched herself at the villain, unsheathing her rapier and thrusting it forward. I could not see if the blow landed on the villain, I didn’t need to, I saw the destruction that the hero caused with one misguided thrust as the town blacksmith crumpled underneath the wind pressure and rubble that flew forth. She pivoted once again, but the villain was behind her, he whispered some words I couldn’t hear and suddenly dark flames ate away the few lucky residences that were sheltered behind the blacksmith's workshop. The screams of the buried and burning only lasted moments. The hero, still recovering from the black flames, thrust three times in rapid succession, casting a wider net so as to not let the villain escape. Two flailed wildly past her mark, leaving devastation and echoed screams in their wake. A third slammed into the villain causing him to fly into a nearby cottage, I do not know who lived there, but he exited covered in blood and viscera. I assume he naturally hardened himself to survive the hit, the ones inside the hut were unlucky enough to cushion his fall. The fight raged for some time, moving from area to area in the unlucky village. Eventually, silence fell around me, I viewed the devastation looking for any signs of life. The only sight that greeted me was the bloodied villain, standing over the corpse of the hero. We locked eyes for a moment, I stared, unblinking at him until he, eventually, looked away towards the mountains in the distance and melted into the shadows that surrounded him.

I was left to fulfill the job that all of my, now voided fellow villagers, gave me seven years ago at the turn of my 18th birthday. The job of gravedigging. I’ve now lived for twenty-five years, a good number to reach in these parts, where my life is expendable. I have buried my mother, father, sister, brother, and many friends. I have buried so many whom I loved that the villagers called me ‘The Gravedigger’ long before I actually filled that role. I don’t mind the name, in truth, I don’t mind much of anything. I live more out of habit than out of will.

My named profession and title of shame now became the voided lives only hope of proper burial and rights. I buried 235 people. 234 townsfolk, and one hero over the course of the following weeks. The hero, upon further inspection, was a druid swashbuckler and had natural armor made from living wood, her rapier, however, seemed to have been plundered as a spoil of war. Upon her grave, I planted her armor. I jotted down this information in my journal, then took out my log of the fallen and wrote the names of those who had died. I planted flowers on all of their graves and sent a prayer to the gods for each fallen. 

I prayed at the hero's grave last, as I did not know her name nor her gods so I spent time praying to each one to allow her to have some peace in the afterlife. Some may think of this as a wasted effort as she was responsible for at least half the deaths on my list, but I do not hold any ill will towards them now. This world is cruel and unjust, voided lives are made every day. This hero’s life was not void, but she died all the same. We all crumble under the wheels of time or those destined with more time than ourselves. I prayed to the gods for the better part of the evening trying to allow her to return home safely. Then I went to the most intact house, set up my station, and rested for the night. 

-

In my dreams, I saw the fallen hero laying at the edge of a livingwood forest that spanned as far as the eye could see. There was a river near the tree she laid against that seemed to glow with unknown magic. The hero was not so broken as when I buried her, she laid still, breathing quietly. I wandered the forest for some time until I found that a sapling growing in the trees had been set alight by some unknown flame. I could tell by looking at it that it was still alive despite the charred young bark, it just needed to be transplanted to another area.

I spent a few hours uprooting the plant delicately so as not to lose a single root. Then I strapped it to my back and walked from where I had come. The hero still slept, shallow breaths escaping her lips every few moments. I took the blackened bark of the tree and placed it in the river. My hands burned as I placed them in the water and in my recoil, I dropped the sapling into the river. By some primal instinct despite the burning of the water I jumped in after it, knowing that this sapling would be needed. I dove into the water, it scorched my body as I swam to the sapling, seeing that it had started to heal in the waters, the bark that was once blackened by fire soon turning to a dark brown then lighter. I picked up the sapling and swam to shore. When I reached the banks of the river I stared at the sapling, it shone with bright light from under the light brown bark. Ignoring the remnant pain stabbing through me I dug a small hole to place the roots of the sapling so that it would take root here. Then I collapsed onto my back and faded into blackness.

-

I woke up in the semi-ruined house, wondering why I had a dream. I typically did not dream, let alone remember the pain within it. I decided that it had to do with my final attachment to the world abandoning me. I fetched some rations from the cupboard of the house and some water from the well and walked toward the graves I had completed the day previous and watered the living wood armor that I had planted previously. I closed my eyes and prayed once more to Death, Light, Life, Runes, Magic, Nature, Water, Knowledge, Elementalist, War, and Dark. 

When my eyes opened I saw the townsfolk and hero and was taken aback. They all stared at me, and as I looked back, I saw that their forms seemed to be ethereal. As the hero began to approach me, I sat down upon the hill, stared upon the fallen, and wept.

“What has happened?” Asked the ghostly silhouette of the hero. 

I did not answer, for I did not know, and what’s more, I did not want it. 

“I asked a question, void”

“I do not have an answer, for you all are dead,” I mumbled underneath my breath. 

She looked surprised for a moment then looked back to me. 

“You must be lying, I am not dead, I’m speaking to you.” 

I silently pointed to the grave with the livingwood armor planted as the headstone. She walked towards it and collapsed on her grave. It was a sight to behold, the dead realizing their fate, I supposed very few had ever seen what I had just seen. I took out my book and sketched the girl leaving a small description:

The ghostly presence of a hero collapsed on her own grave, just recognizing her own fate.

I wished to continue my thoughts, but as I considered my next words the blacksmith snuck up to my side. 

“Gravedigger, thank you for this,” the blacksmith waved a hand over the graves of all the townsfolk, “I am sorry for the way we treated you, we must go now, but we are saddened to leave you with her.” He spat out the last word as if it was an insult, but not directed at me. 

“I understand, rest peacefully and find your justice,” I said, only half realizing I spoke the words of his god due to my still processing the situation at hand. 

The blacksmith smiled, placed a ghostly hand on my shoulder, and dissipated. I stood and viewed the other villagers, most didn’t see me, but all slowly disappeared into what I had to assume was the other side, all except the hero, who was still collapsed on her grave. 

As I walked to her I stumbled due to a sharp pain in my hands that built up to my skull, I fell to the ground, writhing in pain. I heard a voice echo as my vision darkened:

“This is the cost of your sacrifice, Voided. Feel their pain and gain their knowledge”