I was on the road back to Brooklyn two nights ago when I heard an interview with Kate Beaton on the radio. If you’re not familiar with her or her comic, Hark, A Vagrant! please check it out. Not only is she hilarious, but she is a very thoughtful and insightful individual. You will not be disappointed.

“Sometimes, I suspect that [this] is the internet, trying to communicate with us in a language it thinks we understand.” ~Rob Beschizza

The future best man at my wedding challenged me to write a short story to actually make my productive. The first draft has to be 20,000 words written in three weeks time (I’m aiming for 1,000 words a day), and I was not allowed to plan ahead before I typed my first word. So far one day has passed and I have 1,021 words. So far it’s turning out to be a fantasy story; yes there are swords and magic, but instead of your usual Elves and Dwarves I am coming up drastically different species to populate the world. So far there are Humans and anthropomorphic octopi. Here is what is written so far.

“They say there was a time before the land rose from the oceans, when Humanity rode on the backs of turtles and in the bellies of whales. In the shadow of these massive creatures mankind was humble, and in the face of the Great Ocean they knew to revere its might. All that is forgotten to your kind now that you live on the land-that-has-risen.” spoke the Chicilod, Thichil.

Icobe listened to the story without responding. He was not the type of man who put faith into fables, quite the opposite in fact. It was not uncommon for his tongue to get him in trouble when confronted with mystical tails, but this time he thought it best to stay on the Chicilod guide’s good side. There journey was not over quite yet.

The coastline stretched onward ahead, and rose steeply from the ocean. The setting sun painted the sky a fiery orange and the clouds a vibrant pink. Waves crashed laboriously against the rocks. The patches tall grass that grew further up the coast rustled in the breeze.

Icobe soaked in the sensations as he and his party marched forward. He felt calm in a way he never did back in the city. Perhaps it was because of the solitude; while he was in a group, all were keeping their own thoughts to themselves. All except the Thichil.

Where Icobe and his fellow Humans resembled apes, Chicilods looked more like octopi. They had eight appendages, four of which they walked on like Humans, the other four they used liked arms. Their voices were low and monotone, and they spoke with a thick accent due to their inability to manipulate their mouths as was necessary. Spoken language was something the Chicilods had learned from mankind in ages past when the two species met. Amongst their on kind they communicated via the shifting colors of their skin, something Humans were incapable of copying.

“Perhaps it is not the land that rose, but the water that dried up. Some tales speak of a time when the water will dry up completely. Then the land will begin to turn to dusk, and blow away into the wind, and all that would be left is the sky.” Thichil continued.

“Can you quit your chattering? You’re causing my head to start pounding.” spoke one of the irritable sellswords. The man was tall, even taller than Icobe, and was heavily muscled. Scars marked his face, and it was no surprised to any who looked at him that this man had a violent past. He wore worn leather armor with a few mismatched pieces of steel to supplement it. He walked with his weapon of choice, a flanged mace, out and resting on his shoulder at all times. Icobe found the man off-putting.

Icobe’s friend and partner, Majurra, insisted on hiring sellswords on their expedition. Icobe protested, stating the two of them could handle themselves if they were attacked, but Majurra pointed out that the sellswords’ appearance would likely be enough to deter an attack before it happened. Icobe finally conceded the point.

They continued onward in silence after the sellsword’s outburst. Eventually they passed through a gap in the rocky hill and spied their destination, an ancient temple carved right into the rocky cliffside. Large columns, many crumbled to pieces, lined the path to the entrance. They were far enough from the shore where high tide would never the structure, but a thin pool of water had collected outside and it looked like it stretched inside the temple as well.

Icobe stood in awe, but as he gazed upon the temple that was slowly supplanted by dread. While the man was a scholar, he had visited a number of archeological sites, many seemingly more dangerous than this one, so his sudden fear took him by surprise.

Icobe studied the structure from a distance. Nothing about the architecture was outwardly sinister. The wind blew in and out of the entrance, making it seem like it was breathing slowly and sonorously. Icobe turned to the others. The sellswords looked unimpressed, Thichil was impossible to read, but Majurra looked as if he felt it too.

“Start setting up a camp,” Icobe told the sellswords, “Night is coming, and I want to take a look at the structure before then.” They went straight to work, eager to settle in and relax.

“You feel it too?” Majurra spoke in a hush town as he approached Icobe. The two men were students of the arcane arts, practitioners of magic. Years of exposure to it had left them sensitive to arcane energy fields. That dread that both felt was an indication that something down there was bleeding magic.

“I do.” Icobe said.

“And you want to go down there?” Majurra asked, concerned.

“I do.” Icobe replied again. An innate fear gripped him, but he pushed it to the back of his mind and focused on his academic curiosity. Without giving Majurra the chance to convince him otherwise, Icobe set off towards the temple. Majurra sighed and reluctantly followed.

Thichil decided to join the two men and continued after them down towards the temple. Icobe did not mind, and though he found the Chicilod’s propensity to spout folklore and sermonize grating, Thichil’s ramblings could serve as a good distraction if the fear grew to be too much.

“They say this temple was built shortly after man began setting foot on dry land. As they began moving inland, they abandoned places like this, letting them be lost to time.” Thichil continued once the sellswords were safely out of earshot.

“It is certainly out of the way,” Icobe responded, “These islands have been uninhabited for at least as long as recorded history. At least uninhabited by Humans.” Though Humans didn’t live on these obscure islands, the waters south of them made ideal homes for Chicilods.

“Do your people know much about these ruins?” Majurra asked Thichil.

“No. As I am sure you know, Chicilods like to keep to the water as much as possible.  

Do you ever fantasize about quitting your job in a spectacular fashion? Me too! Have you ever gone through with it? No? Well, that is where you and I differ. 

Up until a few weeks ago I was nothing but a cog in the corporate machine. It hadn’t always been like that. In fact, I used to love my job, but all good things come to an end. A change in management brought in a despotic facsimile of a Human being that turned my life into shit. The job because so stressful it would seep into the rest of my life. I stopped writing, I stopped exercising, I stopped hanging out with friends - I was so emotionally drained each night I’d spend an hour or two in front of my computer screen before going to bed, only to repeat that the next day.

One morning I just snapped. There wasn’t a single thing that set me over the edge, I just hit my limit. I wrote this following email then sent it out not just to my managers, but my department, every other department in my building, upper management, and even a few of the corporate executives. 

I’m pretty sure that bridge has been burnt.

Ah Winter, we meet again my third favorite season. There are a lot of things to love that come bundled with this departure from the sun: the egg nog, the gift getting, the wearing-a-normal-sweater-to-an-ironic-christmas-sweater-party-to-actualy-make-it-ironicing…there is so much to enjoy! But for me, the absolute best part of the season is one necessary accessory: gloves. They’re warm, and classy, and when you lean on a railing you can practically glide down the stairs! Have a black pair of gloves? Jackpot! Now you’re Darth Vader, and anyone who chastizes you or your sorcerer’s ways will be Force choked proper.

Yesterday, my gloves showed be a little bit of beauty in the universe. I was leaving work, decked out with my black gloves so I’d be ready for the cold. I decided to hit the urinal quickly without taking my gloves off. Looking down, I realized it looked like my dick was being kidnapped. Oh the laugh I had! Even the guy in the stall next to be chuckled nervously.

I did encounter a dilemma. My coworkers were there, and I didn’t want the negative stigma of being caught not washing my hands. Peer pressure got the better of me, so I decided to take off my gloves, wash my hands, then put the gloves back on because that makes perfect sense.