I am out of ideas for Budget stuff (my knowledge is non-existent up until mirrodin, and my last article was a mistake) I have decided to bring my storywriting to the web. At first, I wanted to use my story, Dælith, but since my last computer crashed, it looks like this:
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... which nobody can decipher. Ah well. So I bring you my story in progress, Dear Diary. It takes a bit to catch on, but it's one wild ride!
“Last stop, ‘Paradise Station’. Everyone still here, get out. Now.”
Luc got up blearily. Clearly he had overslept. But where was he? Oh yes, on a bus to the free vacation that he had won. A vacation in some place called Paradise. It was a random lottery that he had gone for, and Paradise had sounded nice. But when he thought about it, he couldn’t remember ever signing up for it. But where was here now? “This is Paradise?” He asked.
“Yeah, it is. Now get off!”
Luc got off the bus and looked around. He was tall, tan, and handsome. At eighteen, he was on spring break from MIT and had won a vacation to this place. He had finished his homework for the week and now needed to relax. This vacation to Paradise seemed like a good idea. Well, it had at the time. The place was a dump. And earlier, he had felt like it was his lucky day. A western town surrounded by a high wooden wall in the middle of the desert. “You sure this is the right place?” He inquired. “This town is derelict.” There were only a few buildings that rose above the wall, and a church steeple, but they were crumbling and in ruins.
The bus doors closed behind him. “Hey, wait a minute!” shouted Luc.
The driver rolled down a window. “What?” he demanded.
“I don’t even know if there’s anyone here! There might not be water for miles,” he said frantically.
“Not my problem,” the bus driver said and shrugged. “If you’re going to Paradise, it’s always a one way trip.” He rolled the window up as fast as he could and sped off. The look on his face as the mirrored window had closed was one of pure terror.
Luc cursed and looked to the town. The wall was old and in various states of disrepair, but nothing could be seen through it. The doors stood in front of him, barred. This was puzzling. Why would anyone want to bar a walled city from the outside? Luc shrugged. This was weird, but a lot of things were weird, and he couldn’t do anything about most of those. He headed closer, and then saw something that seemed totally wrong to him. Slowly but surely, words were appearing as though written upon the wall. They were written in blood. Luc strained to see through the heat. “P-A-R-A-D-I-S-E… L-O-S-T… What’s that supposed to mean?” he wondered aloud.
“It means that you’re back.”
Luc jumped back. The old man had come out of nowhere. He had long gray hair and a black ten-gallon hat. He bore his age well, or so it seemed. His face was covered in scars. On his forehead, Luc spotted another anomaly; he had a symbol carved in his forehead that glowed slightly. It was the double oval symbol that stood for infinity. At his belt he had an assortment of vicious weapons including a beautifully engraved crossbow. “Who are you?” Luc inquired dubiously.
“Call me Guide. That’s both my name and my title.” The man looked at him and said, “And that,” he mentioned, “Is your blood.” He held up an ornate crystal disc.
Luc looked in the mirror-like surface. His throat was slit through to the windpipe and bleeding. Every few seconds a bit of blood was wiped away. These moments coincided with the pauses in the invisible writing. Luc wasn’t impressed. “I did a trick like that in middle school.”
“Trick, eh?” The man laughed. “Don’t trust your ‘impossible’ instinct, kid. It’s worthless here. We’ll meet again. Until then.” The man vanished into the dust.
Luc felt his windpipe. The cut was gone. However, the message stayed. It now read as “Paradise Lost. Only the Dead Leave Here–Guide.”
He’s not going to discourage me this easily, thought Luc to himself. He walked up to the door and unbarred it. With a blast of darkness, dozens of transparent specters blasted out, weaving through the air. A few grazed him, and he gasped at the sudden pain as the spirits sliced his flesh. They flew forwards and didn’t go back. Luc was relieved, but didn’t relax. He strained against the darkness, and saw something moving. The next second, it proved to be a giant, black killer hand that grabbed him and pulled him in, kicking and screaming. Behind him, the door swung slowly shut and the hinged bar dropped into place.
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