Yesteryear Fiction

Edo Boy in the Dark
By David Edward Nell


Grandpa would place a lantern in their sleeping area every night, and it was no normal lantern, since it could never be extinguished. Instead of a flame, tiny living creatures sustained the lantern's glow. Grandpa called these beings wonder-flies. They were like fireflies, but magical.

Often Grandpa would say to the boy, “When I am not here anymore, they will still protect you in the darkness. But never play with them. Always keep them near. They are all we have here.”

One particular night, the wind and trees were restless.

Taku had just gone to sleep when the front door slid open, and with that, the lantern's light went. Immediately, the boy sat up, only to find that the mattress where Grandpa lay was vacant. Bewildered, he searched the house, but there was no trace of Grandpa.

Taku went out into the moonlight, because he didn't like being all alone in a dark house. That's when he spotted the brilliance, outside, emanating from the woodland sprawl. That's where he ran to, certain Grandpa was there with his special lantern.

But, as the boy chased deeper into the forest, the light became weaker. He found himself in an unfamiliar part of the woods, where there was no moonlight, where the darkness was enveloping. Taku wanted to turn back to where he had come from but couldn't. His feet were stuck, buried in mud that was beginning to swallow him. He felt like his legs were being crushed. His hands quaked with nerves as he tried to push against the ground. The dirt was rising fast, eating him.

“Grandpa,” he shouted over and over for help. He couldn't anymore when the dirt entered his throat.

Then he was inside. Inside the deepest darkness of all. But the darkness was keeping him alive, filling his veins, feeding his brain with new ideas. It wanted to show him things, help him understand what it could do to him, where he was meant to be. That his place was here. Forever.

But then, light. Taku thought the light was part of the madness as well.

Two giant, withered hands reached for him. He was raised into the warm, familiar light of the wonder-flies, who spun round and round in Grandpa's lantern. Grandpa didn't want to let Taku go. Grandpa was crying. They kept quiet for a long time, but the hug was enough.

Then Taku noticed something strange about his surroundings. They weren't in the forest anymore but in a different part of the island. Taku hadn't seen the edge of the world before, though Grandpa had told him what existed beyond the forest. However, Grandpa never revealed that there were clouds beneath them too, just like there were clouds in the sky above.

“You're alright now,” Grandpa whispered, soothing his back. “I promise I'll never let this happen to you again. I made a stupid mistake.”

Taku asked, “Why did you leave me alone?”

“My boy, the wonder-flies – they escaped. I had to run after them. What could I have done? And I couldn't wake you up because that's when the darkness gets you. When you're awake, afraid, the darkness knows. I told you what happens. I just thought at the time you'd sleep on and not notice. I was so damned stupid to think that. I'm sorry.”

“I didn't get hurt.”

“I'm glad, so glad,” Grandpa said, kissing Taku on the forehead. He asked, softly, “What did you see?”

Taku paused. “Nothing,” he said, without a hint of emotion in his voice.

“You're a warrior, just like your father was.”

Grandpa stroked Taku's soft, white hair, and beamed proudly. Taku sat very still, coldly staring.

“I should've told you everything. Why we're here and what this place is. You see, we're the only two on this island. This is not any normal island either. This cursed island floats in the sky, not in the sea.” Grandpa sighed. “A long time ago your parents and I were brought here by the wonder-flies on the command of an evil sorceror, who not only wanted me banished but my entire clan. This man wanted this island to be an eternal prison for my clan, see? This man – Nakanishi, they call him – was a very bad man, a dark magician.”

Taku nodded.

“I was on a mission to slay Nakanishi for his crimes and deliver his head to the emperor. But the bad man got the best of me with his magic. He wanted vengeance. He intended a slow death for us and so sent us here, to this island he created. When we came here we found out how to survive, though. Avoid the darkness at all costs, stay in the light – that was always the most important thing. But, even with that in mind...death after death. First my brother died of natural causes. Then my sister went missing. Then my own mother, missing. Right after your parents gave birth, they, too, fell. Your mother was out during the night and...I couldn't save her. The last to die was your father, who wanted revenge against the darkness. I'm so sorry, Taku. I'm sorry I have to tell you like this. I don't know what else to say.”

Taku did not return any tears. “And the wonder-flies?”

“In the first days, I caught them before they could return to the lands below. But now, after this incident, we are left with few. They fought against the lantern holding them. They may do so again. They are strong, and the darkness of the night is growing more powerful, making them more hysterical each day. No flame can counter this evil anymore.”

“If we lose the wonder-flies, we will be lost to the darkness,” said Taku, and Grandpa nodded. “Can we go back to bed now?”

Grandpa smiled weakly and stood Taku on his feet, and together, they walked back through the forest, keeping the lantern close.

On the way, Taku said, “Maybe the darkness isn't getting stronger like you think, Grandpa.”

When they were home, they went straight to bed. The wonder-flies were whirling around madly in their prison. Grandpa curled up on his mattress with pains and groans, and made sure the lantern was in his sights. Taku rested on his back, and kept watch on the lantern as well. But he for a different reason, waiting for his grandfather to fall asleep.


- - -
David Edward Nell writes from Cape Town, South Africa. He can be touched at: http://davidedwardnell.blogspot.com

Mister Zapak Presents: The Cost of Sport
By David Edward Nell


After walking around in circles in the Moor Drylands, I'd finally found my client on a small mountain that belonged to a village of dwarves. I knew he was there because I was in ear of his boisterous taunts and the pained screams of his opponents; and, of course, this was a normal day.

Abbo ceased his brawling for a second to shout at me, “Where have you been? Slow as usual, Mister Zapak.”

“I'm not the one who wears a snail's shell on my back,” I muttered under my breath. Following that, I said to him, “If you'd given me any directions, I would've been here sooner.”

He spat then wiped his mouth. “Bah. It's not important now.”

“You said you have something to tell the world?”

“Bring that one up for me, will you?”

“What one?” I said, and then kicked it. The head of a dwarf lay by my foot. I brought Abbo what he wanted, though felt ill doing so. I witnessed the heap of bodies he'd left. At least half the dwarf population must have been slain. He snatched the head from my hand and threw it in his shell.

“What's the matter?” he asked me, as though I wasn't supposed to see the bodies. I'd garnered the same reaction from him in our previous journeys, always after his battles. And I always wondered if he felt guilt.

Abbo was picking up all the remaining heads from the ground with his free left hand. Under his right arm, he was carrying one still-living dwarf. Much like one would be carrying a small child.

He laughed at my pause. “Have you been swallowing mushrooms as of late?”

“I was just thinking about something,” I replied.

“Enough with your thoughts, then. Aren't you writing any of this down?”

I bore my teeth to him, and so prepared my quill and sheepskin. I was a reporter, after all. Yes, that's what I was.

Ever the dolt, I tripped forward. Ah, but what an embarrassment. Thankfully, our hero caught me before I could fall. He stood me on my feet.

“You pierced my arm with that quill of yours,” he then observed.

“I did what? Oh, my goodness. I'm so very sorry,” I said, motioning to soothe the mark I'd left.

He pushed me aside before I could kiss his wound. “Never mind. Just watch it,” he said. “I have news for you.”

“Let's hear this news, friend.”

“Remember when I said our journey will come to an end?”

“Yours or ours?”

“Ours and mine.”

“I don't understand. But you still have so many more heads to chop,” I said.

“My travels were never just about hunting heads,” he said. Which I'd always known. I previewed the gold he had stolen today, before he closed off his shell again.

“Is this really the end?” I asked Abbo. “What about me?”

“What about you?”

“It's just, well, I'm going to miss you.”

“We've only been on five journeys together,” he said, looking at me funny.

“And what's going to happen to our hero?”

“Retirement,” he replied, simply.

“The most legendary warrior of Cackalathian times, retired? Is the world shaped round now?”

I couldn't hear him so well as he ran down the mountain, leaving me behind, but it sounded like he'd told me goodbye.

“Goodbye? Abbo?”



I followed him to a tavern in Bragur, and sat beside him as he had his face in a chalice. Apart from the presence of the bartender, we were alone.

He spat in surpise on seeing me. “I know what you want. I know your plot, dark wizard.”

“Abbo, we've been through this before. I am not a dark wizard. And I feel I have to remind you that, right now, you're drunk.”

“What's the difference? I know what you're up to. Even when I am sober, I know. You're here to steal my gold. But try and I'll slit your throat.”

He raised his battle-axe with a mighty roar, and then the weapon slipped from his grasp and made a loud noise on the floor. He sank in his stool and released a bit of gas. I didn't flinch once.

“Why would I want your gold? I'm rich myself.” Which was the truth.

I waited for him to reply, but he simply stared at me. I decided to point out something to interrupt the awkward moment. I said to him, “By the way, that dwarf is still under your arm.”

Abbo was surprised by that as well, and showed no mercy. I felt sympathy for the poor dwarf as it had its neck squeezed until it couldn't breathe anymore. I'm sure our hero was envisioning your humble narrator in its place.

“Anyway,” I said, looking around, “how much is a drink around here?”

Abbo banged the table broken. I had nowhere to place my arms, but no matter, I could use my knees. Abbo leaned across and fingered my cheek. I could smell and feel the alcohol-tainted heat from his nostrils. The bartender was watching from the counter like it was a normal event.

“You play with my mind,” Abbo said.

“Not at all. There's some more secrets I mean to uncover of our legendary hero.”

“I told you, I'm finished. You've enough material for your audience.”

“It's no interview I am requesting.”

“Then what is it?”

I called to the bartender to bring me some salt. While he did, I revealed my plan to our hero, vaguely so, “I've been meaning to try something since I met you.”

“Something? Such as what? What are you on about?”

“You'll see.”

I received the salt, thanked the bartender and sprinkled some into my palms. “Just a little...”

“What are you doing?” Abbo asked.

“Eh. Just give me a minute,” I said.

Once I calculated the proper positioning and distance, I threw the salt in our hero's face. And then it was done. A mixture of surprise and anger seemed to have come over him. The latter reaction was what I'd been yearning for. He stood and clenched his fists, as predicted.

“What did you just try to do to me?” he said, wiping his blushing face.

“My uncle once taught me that snails hate salt. Well, it turns out it's just an old wive's tale.”

“So you were trying to murder me? After you gained my trust and...”

I shrugged, and this rude gesture of mine Abbo must have interpreted as a yes, because he then wrapped his hands around my throat and strangled me. But hurrah! As he grew angry, I could see him giving in. I could feel his grip loosening. He was entering a new alchemical madness. His anger was translating into a sort of subservience. What I'd wanted all along.

“Who are you, Mister Zapak?”

“Perhaps I lied about everything. But don't you think that makes you completely stupid?”

He shook his head incessantly. I can't imagine how internally conflicted he must have felt, and I did feel sorry for him, but what was done was done.

“And you're right,” I told him, intentionally feeding his inner fire, “there was an agenda.”

His eyes widened.

“I followed you around so I could have this moment. After you slaughtered my people ten years ago, I made this meeting my life's mission.”

My plan was working. Or so I presumed. All at once, his choke resumed its tenacity. The effect I'd intended for him wasn't happening fast enough, or at all. I wasn't certain of anything that moment.

“Then they must've gotten what they deserved,” he retorted.

“The Daisies did nothing to you–”

“Daisies? You, of the Daisies? Ha! Those same-sex mongrels are most deserving of my blade. Certainly, you've proven to me why your people were worthy of my blade; you, being the most conniving of all, have shown to me first-hand what kind of vile, treacherous blood which you were bred from. Ha! Five journeys – I've never let anyone go on that many journeys with me. But now I see. Perfidious mongrel.”

I was losing air. “It was just a joke,” I gasped forth. “I'm still your friend. We can still have many travels...”

At last, Abbo let go. I thought perhaps he'd come to peace. Then he laid me on my belly and got his battle-axe. “You can die with your people in the inner world for all I care.”

I begged softly as he raised his battle-axe in the air. I closed my eyes as he brought it down. I heard it strike into wood. I opened my eyes and was elated to see it was next to my face instead.

He began to cry, you see.

He fell on his knees and hid his face in his hands. “What have I done?” he whispered to himself, rocking back and forth. It was then, I knew, that the ink of my quill was truly coursing his veins.

I assured him everything would be alright. I took him in my arms and waited for the final process to enact. It would be soon.

“Ssshhh. I forgive you,” I told him. “Now you must accept what fate I've delivered.”

His stomach swelled. Abbo the Headhunter became pregnant in an instant.

“What's happening to me? What have you done?”

“Behold, the cost of your sport.”

“Kill me.”

“I am not a murderer, Abbo. I do not like the sight of blood.”

He threw fists at my chest but they were meek. “What hell is this?”

“You will help me rebuild my population, Abbo,” I said.

“I'm going to kill myself,” he said.

“No, you're not. From now on, I will care for you. I love you, Abbo.”

He quit his rebellion and cried some more. I hugged him tighter against my chest and sat with him for a while, not wanting him to notice I had urinated in my pants.


- - -
David Edward Nell writes from Cape Town, South Africa. He can be touched at: http://davidedwardnell.blogspot.com .

Alice And The God Machine
By David Edward Nell


There was one step left to see if his God Machine was really working.

Alice Berry took in a nervous breath then pumped the rotonic foot pedal under his desk. At first nothing happened. And he waited. And waited. But then, purple liquid farted its way through a cord and set off a light on the spintronic charger it was connected to, inciting a disturbing, almost musical humming noise that, to him, meant good things. A laser fired off from the end of the charger to a handheld mirror, then to another mirror in a different part of the bedroom, finally transporting a signal to a pair of adjacent conductor rods.

“What's going on up there, boy?” shouted his mother from the bottom storey of the house.

“Nothing, mommy. Science stuff,” he shouted back.

“Well, turn the volume down. You're going to wake your grandpa, fool.”

There was no need, however.

The final step enacted as he had planned and the noise receded. Between the rods, an electrical grid was created. It remained there, hissing, writhing, before something else happened, something quite unexpected. Alice wasn't certain what he was looking at, then. Whatever it was, it seemed to be a portal into a vast, alien room of rotating gears and machinery. Alice reached an arm inside, then got startled by a slap on the hand from a particularly short gentleman who had popped in view on the other end.

“Error, error,” cried the elf-like stranger, madly flaying his arms in the air. “Some bloke's caught us. Switch it off. Switch it all off.”

The portal and the rods and the charger went dead. And the sky went dark, as if the sun had expired. There was no moon to be seen, either. All at once, the world had gone eerily silent and still. Alice, whelping, had to pick his jaw up off the floor. He couldn't see anything.

“Mommy?” he called out.

She was with him, at least. “I think the damn electricity company's gone and done it again. I'll fetch the candles.”

“Probably is, as always,” he replied, adding a quavering giggle partially influenced by the sudden cold. “Or perhaps I caused this to happen with my science, right?”

Cackling, she said, “As if that science of yours will ever bring home bread. Silly boy.”
Alice was about to mutter a swear word when another shock came. A circular beam of light bathed over and sucked him upward. Somehow, he went right through his own roof, then he was sailing the upper atmosphere, then he was in deep space, then he was carried past various planets of the Milky Way until he was made to wait before the north pole of Saturn, where the beam was coming from. It all happened so fast, as if time was on skip mode.

A voice boomed, “Can you hear me?”

Alice hadn't any words.

“So he can definitely hear me. Bring him in,” said the voice.

The beam thrust him into the centre of a storm, then into a golden dome hidden in the middle of an ice wasteland. Landing on his feet, elf-like beings came to prod at his hind. He was in their territory now.

“So you're the one,” said the tallest elf. “How did you manage to unlock the sacred gate?”

“I haven't a clue what you're on about,” Alice said, trying not to stutter. “Who are you people?”

“You people?” the tall elf said, taken aback.

“This one's clearly a smart human,” said another elf. “And those certainly don't come by often, do they?”

All the elves had a good laugh.

The tall elf proceeded. “How did you do it?”

“I...I didn't know what I was doing, to be honest. Though I was intending to build a God Machine. So I could see God. With a machine.”

The elves shared confused expressions.

“That's funny,” the tall elf said, “because we were building a God Machine, too. Just now.”

“Oh, so you guys are not part of some God collective or something?”

“We're old keepers of the universe. That's all. Internal matters and such. Not important.”

Alice held his chest. “I'm so glad to hear that you're not God. But didn't you just turn off the sun?”

“We did do that, yes.”

“Good heavens, can't you see what's happening down there? Turn the sun back on.”

“Er, that's the problem. There was a mistake on our part. We have the power to turn off the sun, but we forgot that when it comes to turning it on, that's a trick only God knows.”

“God knows,” said the other elves.

Alice, weak-kneed, had to crouch for a bit. “Oh, dear. And now?”

“That's why we're hoping you can help us.”

“Yes, yes, help us,” begged the other elves.

The tall elf presented Alice with their version of the God Machine.

“It's a chalice with water in it,” Alice remarked on the contraption.

“But do you know what to do with it?”

“Shouldn't you?”

“Idea. Everyone spit,” said the tall elf, prompting his fellow elves to take turns spitting in the cup. “Now you must drink it, I suppose,” he told Alice, who was already observing the cup's contents with revulsion.

“And this is going to work?” Alice asked.

“Drink.”

Alice took it in, but halfway through, he gagged. “What...do you...eat?”

“Is it down yet?”

“Yes, maybe, but nothing's actually happeni–”

Alice found himself in front of a door to a suburban home. All around the home there was darkness, and the home appeared to be floating in a void. With no other choice, he opened the door, entering what appeared to be a makeshift lounge that was really an artificial sitcom studio set. A round of applause played. There inside, seated on a couch, was a horned man-thing with one hand stuffed in his pants.

Alice gasped. “You can't be God. You're Satan.”

“What?” exclaimed the man-thing, waking up from a snooze. “Where'd you come from?” A laugh track triggered by itself.

“But you're red,” said Alice.

“I get that all the time.” Laugh track. “Actually, I got, like, really, really drunk at this freaking party one time, and some tard played a prank on me and did a botched body-painting job. It's a long story. But seriously, dude, those Israelites used to party crazy those days.” Laugh track.

“And you've got horns.”

“Mister obvious here.” Laugh track.

“Impossible.”

“Me, the ruler of all things? Sure. Some call me Satan, Beezlebul, Beezlebulb when I'm creative, Lord of the Flies, but you can call me Jeff.” Laugh track and a round of applause.

“What kind of a name for a hellspawn demon is Jeff?”

“Did your parents think you were a girl when they named you Alice?” Laugh track.

“I don't believe you.”

“Alright, want to see me work my magic? Take a seat. I won't bite. Not unless you're into that kind of thing. Actually, I changed my mind. Stay where you are and don't come near me, smello.” Laugh track.

“There's something I need you to do,” Alice said. “It's urgent.”

“Wait a minute. I've got a question for you. Who do you hate most?” Jeff pointed a remote at the television. The screen turned to an image of Earth. “Name a group, an individual. Think fast.”

“Okay.”

“Fast.”

“Jeez. Hipsters,” replied Alice.

“Now that's one thing we have in common. If you want, I can make them disappear.”

“Literally?”

“Well, it's not that simple. First I'd have to create a new alchemy, a virus, but in the end, they'd disappear, wouldn't they?” Laugh track.

“Never mind that. If you're really God, can you turn the sun back on?”

Jeff shook his head. “Those elves, so useless yet so entertaining.”

“How'd you know?”

“I see all, my friend.”

“Of course,” said Alice. “So turn it back on, Jeff. Please.”

“No.” Laugh track.

“But you have to,” Alice panicked. “Earth could be experiencing an ice age apocalypse as we speak.”

Jeff moaned, “But what you want is boring. Let's do the virus thing first.” Laugh track.

There was a knock at the front door.

“That's my boss,” said Jeff, dully.

“So you are a liar,” said Alice.

“Whatever. Quick, go hide in the closet.” Jeff forced Alice in, then hollered at the door in a deep voice, “Come in.”

“Jeff, what's happening?” greeted Jeff's boss. A round of applause. “Came to check in.”

“Now check out,” said Jeff. Laugh track.

Alice burst out of the closet that instant to see who it was.

“He just had to come out of the closet, didn't he?” quipped Jeff. Laugh track.

“So this is our special visitor. Hello, son. The name's Master Creator.”

“The real, actual God, then?” said Alice. “But you're walking gas.”

“Hold on, guys,” said Jeff. “I'm trying to think of a joke involving gas. Darn, I've got nothing. Continue.”

“Does this form of mine betray your perception of who God is?” asked Master Creator.

“It doesn't matter,” replied Alice. “I have a request.”

“Because I can also take the form of a handsome woman.” The audience wooed.

“And I still wouldn't tap that,” said Jeff. Laugh track.

“Master Creator, we shouldn't delay any further. Earth is–”

“I know, son,” replied Master Creator.

“So you'll help me?” asked Alice. “You'll turn the sun back on?”

“I can't.”

“What the–” Alice's swear word was bleeped. “What do you mean, you can't? You're the creator of all things, the supreme bearer of light. I came all this way to see you and you're telling me you can't help and you're just going to let Earth go? After you created Earth?” Laugh track.

“I'm sorry.” The audience reacted with pity. “But you'll have to go a level higher, see the one named Super Master Creator.”

“I'm dying here, Master Creator,” sighed Alice, rubbing his face.

“You sure are,” jested Jeff. Laugh track.

“Help me get to Super Master Creator,” pleaded Alice.

Master Creator turned to an imaginary camera, and shrugged. “Don't have a fucking clue how.”


- - -
David Edward Nell writes from Cape Town, South Africa and can be touched at http://davidedwardnell.blogspot.com.

The Curious Takahashis
By David Edward Nell


Hiroshi searched all the rooms in the house in a bid to find his daughter. She was missing, hiding somewhere. Then he remembered her old refuge she would always go to during her temper tantrums. So he went to the backyard. There she was on the roof's edge, swinging her legs.

“Come down this instant,” Hiroshi demanded. “Or must I use my sling?”

“Why can't I do what I want for once?” Mori whined.

“Because I say so.”

“I'll just stay here forever, then.”

“Listen,” he tried to reason, “some day you'll understand. But this is tradition. Every member of the Takahashi clan must shed fear to become Devil King warriors. Our services are in demand from all the bureaucrats of the lands. If you want to live here, you will follow orders.” A stomp asserted how serious he was.

“As if I care. I'll go to another clan,” she said. “Maybe I'll even get a boy.”

“No, you won't.”

“The nobles can get some other fools to do their dirty work, fools like you.”

“Where'd you learn to talk like that? Don't cost the family with your selfishness.”

“What family? Mother is dead, and you know why? Because of fighting. So stupid.”

Taken aback, Hiroshi turned away to sob into his hands. Mori kept on watching him, and couldn't anymore when the guilt ate into her. She leapt off the roof to comfort him, only to be pinched by the ear.

“Ow! Why be so cold?”

“Who's the fool now?” he said, dragging her to a trek on the main road.

“I can't believe you. This is embarrassing.”

“It's even more embarrassing for my blood to be so ridiculous. Who raised this coward? I've taught you much, Mori, and you knew of this day. Stop complaining and reserve your fight for the beast.”

“I hate you,” she barked in response.

“Anger is good. Harvest this emotion for the ritual.”

“What if I die?”
“The demon's chained.”

“But still...”

“I wish you'd be braver, and quiet.”

“There are other ways to shed fear, aren't there?”

“Now you're trying to play tricks. No, young lady, it's because of the Devil King initiation, which has been enacted for ages, that the Takahashis are a special breed.”

“Like drunk Uncle Ninawa?”

“Really, you deserve a smack. And he doesn't do that sort of thing anymore, okay?”

She smiled to herself, but lost it when the end of the road was reached and they were standing at the entrance of a cave embedded at the posterior of a small mountain. Quickly, he forced her in before she could object, and Mori wasn't sure how she was able to keep walking with those jittery legs. She couldn't see anything until her father lit a torch. Afterwards, she was staring right at the demon, and it at her. The horned beast was powerless, however, lying splayed on a slab of stone.

“I'm going to die,” she moaned.

“Arm your sword,” Hiroshi said.

Mori slipped out her katana. “O-okay.”

“One clean cut,” he added.

She raised the blade in the air as her father held the demon's arm.

“Right in the middle of the wrist,” he said. “Go on.”

She let out a scream. Her eyes went wide and primal. The sword came down, cut the air, struck rock, and the demon's appendage plopped off and rolled to her feet. And her trembles turned into giggles.

“Doesn't it bleed?” she asked.
“Evil bleeds only sin.”

“Little bitch,” the demon spat and stifled a laugh, “I curse you.”

“You can't curse me, monster. I am now your king, superior to the hellborn.”

Hiroshi rubbed his daughter's scalp, beaming proudly. “I knew you could do it.”

“Thank you, Father. So sorry for rebelling.”

“Don't worry. Aren't you glad it's over?”

“Very much so, but I realize this is only the beginning of my warrior days. I have to say, I think I've fallen in love with my sword.”

“That's my Mori.”

“Ha!” the demon said. “Silly girl, you will be as much a warrior as your mother is a corpse in the grave.”

Hiroshi threw the demon a strange look, as if to reprimand him. His finger went to his lip to hush. “Ignore the idiot,” he told his daughter. When he reached out to her, she resisted, and then it was too late. She wasn't paying attention. Mori unsheathed her katana again, positioned it by her hip at the ready, and charged. The blade cleanly pierced the demon's side, and retracted as quickly as it had entered. Blood began spilling on the rock.

The demon's voice changed, became a mortal's pained howl. “Enough...enough...with this act.”

“What did you do, Mori?” Hiroshi snagged the sword from her grasp, her mouth agape.

“Brother, just tell her the truth.” The demon pulled off its face, nothing more than a mask.

Mori fell to her knees, Hiroshi as well, in defeat.

“I'm so sorry, Uncle,” she said, breaking out in tears.

“No, don't apologize. This...this is your first kill as a Devil King. I am...honored.” Uncle Ninawa went pale and lifeless, loosing his last smile. And the father and his daughter wallowed in minutes of misery, mourning, praying for forgiveness. Finally, Hiroshi got up, and he was the only one with strength that moment. He touched his brother's face, covered those stunned, dead eyes, and saw the flask of Sake hidden on the other side of the rock.


- - -
Having spent years trying to evade the Equestrian mafia, David Edward Nell now writes from a nameless hideout in Cape Town, South Africa. By night, disguised as numerous pop culture figures, he can usually be found scouring the African plains for loving. Stalk him at http://davidedwardnell.blogspot.com, but keep this a secret.

Order and Chaos
By David Edward Nell