canisaries
sometimes i get a deadache, yeah
So over at the Twitch Plays Pokémon subreddit, there's this pretty nice monthly contest system. It's what I wrote Burnout for (theme was fire, think it was November) and attempted to write another oneshot for in December, but sadly lost the inspiration midway through. However, this month's theme, which was characters meeting for the first time, gave me a great opportunity to put the story of how my Red (you know, the murderous jackass) first met with the true god of chaos and found out that his beloved Helix was only a tiny part of something far bigger.
Because TPP is the absolute opposite of a selling point, let me tell you that if you like unsettling stories and gods interacting with mortals, you may just enjoy this. If you happen to be one of the few who's taken the leap and checked out my other TPP stories (Seiren; Hunter, Haunted; Vivarium etc.), this fic can hopefully flesh out the contrived god system more. And you might even care about the characters themselves.
It wouldn't be a Canis TPP fic without some content warnings, so let it be known that this story contains:
- strong suicidal ideation (mostly at the start)
- cannibalism (not on-screen, but discussed)
- an F word (yes, only one)
Not a long list, but I feel that putting them in list form makes them more noticeable. Anyway, it's due to these elements that I rate this story mature.
- - -
HIM
Synopsis: Upon returning from Mt. Silver, the place where his beloved lord was slain, Red is convinced life has nothing more to offer. Then a forgotten stone calls to him.
- - -
“And... make sure he doesn’t do anything to himself, alright?”
That’s what Fonz said to my mother when he left. Quietly, but I still heard it.
It’s the first time anyone’s said that about me. I guess it’s not a thing the average person actually hears, but for a moment, it still felt like I was just like anyone else.
But that really applies for this entire thing. This is something I’ve never gone through before. I didn’t think it could happen to me. Hell, some time ago I thought it didn’t actually happen to anyone and everyone were just pretending like I was. But it really did. And now it’s happening to me as well, despite my difference.
Mourning.
Every second He’s gone, reality aches. And He’s gone every single second. There will never be another second He will be here, not a single second more I’ll spend without this pain.
When they mourned, I asked questions. Why do you care? It’s not you, is it? You didn’t even like them that much, did you? Them being gone doesn’t really affect your life, does it? Even if it did, couldn’t you just find someone else to fill the spot?
They never had a good answer for any of them, so I thought they were stupid, illogical. But now I understand. I still don’t care about their sorrow or the people that died, but I understand it.
It feels sick to look for a silver lining in something as devastating as this, but I guess there is one, and it’s the fact that one of my life-long questions has been answered. Not that it was worth Him being gone.
Gone. That word just hurts so much. But I can’t avoid it. It’s just the truth. If I lie, the truth will just get more painful, and the truth never leaves. It gnaws at the edge of your mind and no pesticide can kill it.
For a moment, I contemplate making a motion, but lose the will as soon as the truth finds me again. That there’s no point. There’s just no point now that He’s gone.
So I stay like I’ve been for who knows how long now. Lying in my bed, staring at the blank ceiling. Some primitive side of me claims that eventually I’ll have to move, but it clearly didn’t get the memo. There just is no point anymore.
It tries asking those questions I once asked. Why do you care? It’s not you, is it? I wish it had been. I wish I didn’t have to be alive to witness this. I wish the feraligatr had had just a little more bloodlust in him and finished me off as well. ‘Slain’ me too. ‘Slay’. I used to like that word. Now it’s almost as bad as ‘gone’.
Couldn’t you just find someone else to fill the spot? Sickening. Repulsive. Abhorrent. Deplorable. That’s what that idea is. It’s a suggestion someone with absolutely no understanding of the situation would offer. Or someone who knows exactly how appalling it is and wants to tickle my gag reflex because they’re just evil. Evil - another concept I’m starting to gain a better understanding of...
It’s true that it would probably be very possible to clone another from the fossil. They did it once, can’t be hard to do it again. But it wouldn’t be Him. It wouldn’t remember me. It’d be a spit in the face of His memory. It’d wear His face, have His voice, it could even learn about these things and learn to behave just like Him, but it wouldn’t be Him. Because He is dead. His soul, His consciousness, it’s gone. And there’s that word again.
I feel like crying - a feeling that used to be rare and only attached to the loss of simple benefits or experiences, but has been present nonstop since He… since He started to be gone. But I can’t cry anymore. My body can’t produce tears anymore. I dried my ducts out all the way back on the mountain. And, again, there’s really no point, is there.
...No. I think there’s one point left. Fonz knew that was a point, it’s why he said what he said. My mother knows it’s a point, it’s why she isn’t here doing what Fonz asked her to. It annoys me to think that going through with it will likely bring her great satisfaction, but I believe the relief I’ll get will outweigh the disappointment thousandfold.
I am and always have been afraid of death. Just like every being that can think. Our number one priority is to avoid the end of our lives, even if it’s inevitable for all.
Only now, I’m beginning to see the truth. Death will come. There’s no point in avoiding it. But there is one in bringing it in advance. Ending the pain. The pain that I wish I could rise above, but I’m just a human. Maybe if I was a god, I could, but I’m not and never will be.
So how will I do it? I’m specifically trying to get rid of pain, so I’d like it to be quick and not hurt that much. Then again, when it’s over with, I won’t care either way. I’ll have succeeded in erasing myself and will not be able to regret or want a do-over.
Guns do it fast and painless, but I’m fifteen. I’m not getting one of those any time soon, not that it’d be easy even then. Maybe in Unova it’d be a bit less difficult, but I’m not going to wait three years.
Poison? The bad kind is rather painful. The good kind is inaccessible. It might not work. Next.
Jumping off a high place. If that place is high up enough, it’s a sure shot. But I know my primal side would make the fall hell for my mind. I might, by some miracle, even find a good reason to keep living, and then I’d sure feel like an idiot. Let’s keep looking.
Train. Train… hm. Accessible, quick, possible to jump off the tracks if second thoughts come. I’d even make a nice splat and traumatize a couple of people in the process. Great way to give a final ‘fuck you’ to the world…
Red.
Yes, that’s my name. Or nickname, but… who called me?
No one said anything. I can’t remember any voice. But I was called.
Red. It happened again. It’s like I reacted to nothing, but clearly it can’t be nothing if I reacted.
Am I falling asleep and losing touch with the real world? That’s possible, but something like this has never happened during that trance-like state. Am I… am I going insane? Is this what it feels like to ‘hear things’? Has His death scarred me so badly that my brain has started malfunctioning?
Fossil. I saw the fossil. But it wasn’t in my sight. Only in my mind, without reason. Why would I think of that now? It has nothing to do with what I was thinking about.
Red. Again. Called. It’s called me three times now. Did it also give me that… image of the fossil? Does it want me to get the fossil?
Yes. How do I know that? What convinced me of that? I just know, and I don’t know why I know.
I have to get to the bottom of this now.
I get up. Moving feels so odd, having spent the past whatever minutes utterly without it or the will to make it happen. But I get off the bed and walk to my bag. The old bag, the one I carried around on my journey, not the newer one I used on the trip to the mountain. Just approaching it brings back memories. Mostly painful ones, but some sweet. He was there, on the journey. Before that, it was the fossil He was cloned from. It weighed a lot, but it was precious. It was part of my being. Just like He was after it. When He came, I left the fossil with those people. With Him around, I didn’t miss it much. But I did come and get it back once the journey was over. For old times’ sake. And it felt like it belonged to me, belonged in my house. But I found no place to put it, so it stayed in the bag.
I crouch and open the zipper. It’s still there. Grayish brown. Shape so familiar.
Touch.
We just spoke in unison, the voice and I. The non-voice and I. I’m meant to touch it.
I reach my hand in and…
...wait, what's that?
Some kind of folded paper peeks out of an inner pocket. A map? No, the map I had didn't look like that. Is it a bunch of receipts? No, the paper's too stiff and colorful. I'm curious now…
I pull the paper out and study it.
It appears to be some kind of… brochure. For mental health services.
White and green palette. Sad kid on a bench on the cover. Text saying mental health issues can happen to anyone, that there are people that can help, then a bunch of addresses and numbers…
...I remember now. Not how I got this, but that I've looked at this before. I figured that someone must have given it to me during my journey as an attempt to help. But I didn't pay this any more mind - I felt fine. Because I had… Him. But now I don't. And it feels awful.
This brochure promises help… but how could they help? They can't bring Him back. What could they possibly tell me to make my life worth living again? I've already thought of everything. It's not like I want life to be pain - I've tried to think of things to care about. There just aren't any. Unless I've… missed something.
Is there some truth I'm not seeing? Is there some trick I don't know? What is it that keeps everyone else living despite all the pain and sorrow they feel?
Maybe my brain is just broken. Maybe they could fix me?
Red.
Right. The fossil. I was supposed to…
Touch.
Alright. It's not like this brochure is going anywhere.
I set it down and touch the fossil’s rough surface.
…
Where am I?
Walls, ceiling, there are none. Instead, sky. Sand. Sea. It’s outside, but it’s warm. But it’s winter. It’s not supposed to be warm.
A soft breeze strokes my face. Is this… is this real? Am I dreaming? I feel too clear-headed. But I could also be asleep and have my standards for that lowered. Dream logic.
Okay. Okay… should I try to wake up? I don’t know, I have nowhere to be… and it’s pretty here. Comfortable. I could stay a while.
I stand up straight and look around myself. A calmly undulating sea stretches out into the horizon. The sky is a rich azure, covered here and there by a few puffy clouds white as snow. Behind me, the sand shifts to vibrant green grass some way in. I seem to be standing on the edge of a vast circular island.
Middle. There’s something in the middle. The non-voice tells me so. I can see a blot of something white, is that it?
I begin to walk towards the middle. The blot becomes bigger, sharper. There’s something golden, too. What is that shape? I speed up. Is that really…
It is. It’s a statue of Him. His skin is white marble, His shell is shining gold. He stands on a pedestal of the same kind of marble.
Or… is it of Him? It could be any omastar. Maybe it’s modeled after His appearance, but any clone would share it. There’s no guarantee it’s in His honor.
Something seems to be engraved on the front of the pedestal. Maybe it’ll give me the answer. This in mind, I hurry up, and in general… I know I have a burning desire to see and touch Him again. Even if He’s just stone.
Seconds of eternity later, I reach the statue. His face is level with my chest, so I kneel. Much better - now He’s higher than me. Even if His eyes are closed and He wouldn’t see it.
The detail is astounding. The striation of His beak, each sucker on His arms, all have been carved with care and striking accuracy. It’s like He really is there, only frozen in time, turned to stone. I want to break Him free. But I would only break Him.
The inscription. It’s text, yes, but those are letters I’ve never seen before. Are they even letters? Does it say anything?
HELIX, GOD OF CHAOS.
The non-voice. It read it for me.
“Who are you?” I whisper. I have to know now.
A wind slowly awakens. Blows at my face, creates waves in the grass. It was rather still before, wasn’t it. Am I being answered?
“I am your god.”
The statue. The statue spoke. It didn’t move, but I heard a voice. This time there really was a voice.
It was deep. Resounding. Masculine. Yet still gentle somehow.
The question I’m about to ask is stupid, but necessary,
“Is it You, my lord?”
“Yes… and no.”
What does that mean?
“He houses my spirit, but not my soul.”
Did he read my mind? He must have. The non-voice did answer a question before.
“I am a god. Your mind is open to me.”
So… do I need to speak?
“You need not, but I can sense this voiceless way of conversing unsettles you. You shall speak.”
Okay. Alright. I guess that might be easier.
“What did you mean by ‘spirit’?” I ask.
“It is a word I use for the part of me that He retains, one which allows Him to reincarnate and retain His memories.”
“Reincarnate?”
Some part of me, something lost in the void upon His departure, reawakens. I’ve received hope. But false hope is agony.
“Yes. He can be brought back - not only His body, but His soul. That is what my spirit allows. The continued existence of a soul beyond death.”
Don’t be lying. Please don’t be lying now. That would be too cruel. Beyond anything I could justify.
“You’re telling me that if I had Him cloned from the fossil again, it would really be Him? Not just a clone? And He’d even remember me?”
“Yes. You always knew He was divine, did you not? Did you think a god could be erased by a mere lizard?”
I… I guess he has a point? My lord didn’t really have many things differentiating him from a normal mortal omastar, objectively speaking. I’m starting to feel a bit stupid. He was a god, right? Gods have to have some powers.
But… I’m not going to just take this guy’s word for something and change my entire world view. I’m not, am I?
He’s already heard it, no doubt, but I ask the question. “How can I trust you?”
“Currently, you do not have much reason.”
Oddly open...
“But I tell you this. Take this stone in which my soul resides and have Him brought back. When He sees you, He shall know you, and you shall know I am speaking the truth.”
I suppose I have nothing to lose. But I’ll need to convince my team to agree to this. They weren’t too big on cloning Him, either. Not sure how I’ll tell them how I found this out…
“It is imperative,” he suddenly speaks, “that you do not let them know of my existence. Tell them it was the Voices. Those called them to the mountain, and the new host did arrive as promised. They shall believe it.”
For just a moment, I revisit a thought that’s come every now and then. If only we hadn’t listened. He’d still be alive.
“This all pains you,” he speaks again, “I am aware of that. But know that His death is what has allowed me to contact you. It was necessary.”
Lots of questions arise, but I choose the one I’m worried I might forget if I don’t ask it now. “Why shouldn’t I tell the others about you?”
A rumble. I cower like a pichu, which brings me shame, but I get the feeling this reaction was expected.
The statue of Him trembles with the earthquake - then all motion ceases. His eyes are now open, golden.
“Red,” the voice speaks. “You are not like the other humans, are you?”
In what way? Although… I have a feeling I know what he means.
“You do not feel like other humans,” he continues. The feeling strengthens.
“It’s true,” I say. “But what does that have to do with you?”
He smiles, quite widely. I feel it from the air this time.
“I am the perfect god for you.”
The lights go out. Or, I mean, the sun. But it was as instantaneous as a flick of a switch. The darkness covers my sight.
Swishes, lights. Flames are igniting in midair around me, forming a stationary ring. They illuminate my surroundings, which have remained the same - save for the statue, which has disappeared. Something else stands in its place. Someone.
I get up and take a few steps back. The one who’s appeared doesn’t move. He’s short, a head shorter than me, but he looks my age. His skin, from what I can tell in the flames’ light, is darker than mine, and his wavy short hair seems to be a very dark brown. He’s not Tohjoan, not by those features or his facial ones. His nose is larger and more angular, and his eyes are wider. His genes are from lands more southern, clearly. His clothing, on the other hand, looks like it also came from the past. His white robes seem hand-sown, rather sloppily so, and he lacks shoes altogether.
“Who are you?” I ask, studying him further. His eyes are sunken, tired. His skin shows scars and wearing. It's clear he's no royalty. He's someone poorer, maybe even a slave. His ribs shine through his skin, but he does have some musculature. I feel like he's constantly two seconds away from asking for food. Yet something's stopping him. Fear? Pride? Or perhaps he knows I wouldn't understand him. He likely speaks another language.
“This,” he says, catching me off guard, “is Kohath. He lived a few millennia ago in a land far from yours.”
It seems the voice is speaking through the boy. Took me a bit to get that, as Kohath’s voice is still used. His pitch is about the same as mine and others our age, but he speaks in the same way as the voice before did.
“Kohath was a manservant, under the ownership of a sailor's family. He was underfed, overworked, mistreated. He was below even the miltank of the house. Miltank who ate well, as well as the family did.”
Kohath's dark eyes slowly intensify in an emotion. A combination of wrath and hopelessness. I flinch at the glare. Not because I fear him, but because I've seen the same stare many times in my own reflection.
“Kohath dreamt of revenge, but knew any action he took would result in tenfold retribution. His masters simply had too much power. The law was on their side. He could not protest, he could not leave. He considered death, but knew it was not what he sought. He wanted his masters to suffer, not himself.
“One day, fate rewarded Kohath. He saw a creature stuck between some rocks on the shore. This creature was an omastar, a rare sight, but even more peculiar was the fact that it spoke. It pleaded Kohath to free it, offering a great reward in return. Kohath saw an opportunity, even if he saw little promise in it, and helped the omastar.
“This omastar was my vessel at the time. Not only to my spirit, but to my soul. I showed Kohath my power, which impressed him greatly. It was only a fraction of my true power, as I was weak at the time, much like I am again now - but what I gave to Kohath was enough to change his life for good.
“Knowledge of spells and seals. Training to hone his skills and wit. Courage to rise up against his masters. With these, Kohath's days of servitude would soon be over. As his masters finally found out about him leaving every now and then to see me, the time had come. The family attempted to attack him, but I had given him power. With it, he struck back. He reached for the vengeance he had dreamt of all those years and plucked it like a fresh pecha. Every human that lived in that house - he slaughtered them, deaf to their cries. As I had advised, he left the miltank be due to their high value. Instead, he sated his lifelong hunger with the flesh of the slain.”
Wait, he ate…
“Yes,” the voice inhabiting Kohath speaks. “To you, that would be called cannibalism.”
“Isn’t it…”
“Frowned upon, putting it softly?” Kohath smiles. “Perhaps. But setting that aside, what really is wrong about it? The killing? You were not shocked when I told you of that. You do not care what others think of you, do you? You do not mourn the deaths of those who do not bring you benefit, do you? What is it about consuming human flesh that upsets you?”
“It’s...”
...well, this is strange. Why did that idea sound so disturbing? I’m not one of the people against eating feral mon. Why should humans be different? If a human died of natural causes, it wouldn’t even be murder, it wouldn’t be something that would bring a threat to me if allowed. It’s not like it’s something like eating insects, either - human flesh can’t be that different from other mammals’ meat. But there is one thing...
“Isn’t it dangerous?” I ask. “With diseases and so on.”
“As dangerous as it is to eat any other creature,” he nonchalantly responds. “If the one you consume is healthy and the flesh is properly prepared, there is nothing to worry about - as long as you stay away from the brain and liver. I am sure some research later on shall tell you why those organs should be avoided. Currently, I have a story to continue.”
I wonder what the point of the story is.
“In just a while, you shall understand,” he says. “Having sold his masters’ miltank, he left town, carrying along my vessel. I continued to advise and train him as he survived in the wilds by hunting. With my help, he became like one of nature's own, only blessed with superior wit and spells of my creation. Disease avoided him, kept away by my healing touch.”
As he speaks, Kohath's body changes before me. His ribs are covered by fat and muscle. His proportions and facial features mature, growing him up to my height, then higher, higher by a whole head. Stubble on his chin grows into a full beard that eventually merges with his long, shaggy hair. His voice deepens, somewhat beginning to resemble the original voice of the speaker.
All of that is plausible through normal maturation, but one change isn’t as natural - the one in his eyes. The dark irides have lit up with yellow, its hue richer than any humans’ and closer to the color persian occasionally have. It certainly feels like I’m staring at a wild beast.
“Eventually, word spread about Kohath the man-beast. There were men who attempted to capture him, but those attempts only resulted in their deaths. Kohath consumed their flesh and marked their bones to warn others. With time, Kohath encountered different kinds of strangers that sought him - ones willing to join his company. Kohath wanted to turn them away, but I convinced him to let them stay. So they did, learning Kohath's ways by watching and mimicking. I gave them my blessing as well, and so I gained more followers. With more manpower, they could build more, take down larger prey. A clan of sorts was born. This clan grew in numbers as time went on, and so did my powers.
“My followers and I saw this way of living to be ideal, and we sought to expand our influence further. At first, we begun conquering villages. These battles were not without their losses, but the victor was always clear. Kohath's clan grew and grew. From a leader of only a few men, Kohath eventually became a king to thousands. And this was how the Helixian Kingdom, a nation of warriors beyond human, was born.”
A white light envelops Kohath. He gains even more height, another head of it, he's over two meters now! I step back without even thinking. The light withdraws, exposing the giant with his beard and hair now trimmed. His neck and limbs are draped in jewelry, glistening with gold, silver and gemstones. His white robe now truly becomes white, utterly spotless instead of the dull and dirty off-white from his days as a hunter.
“As you see,” he says, “I have much to offer to my servants. Much I believe you would be interested in.” He smiles, his teeth exposed, and I notice his canines are larger and pointier than the average man’s.
He’s intimidating, but I dare to doubt, even if it accelerates my pulse. “How come I’ve never heard of this kingdom?”
“A good question,” Kohath says and steps to his side. Movement from him after being stationary for practically all of his time here startles me, but I calm down somewhat after pinning down his path, which encircles me. I turn constantly to face him, still, as he doesn’t seem like someone you’d want to turn your back on.
“The answer is that, unfortunately, this kingdom did not last forever. Why that was... I can tell you about that some other day. But the short story is that our enemies knew exactly the fate we hated and made it true. Being erased. Not feared, not reviled, but utterly deleted from existence. It was in their favor, as well - a kingdom that once thrived can be resurrected by future generations that admire it, but a kingdom that never was cannot. All the evidence was eradicated… or that was their attempt. But I had foreseen the fall of my beloved clan and devised a way to preserve myself for a better time. Upon my request, the last of my servants brought me to a mysterious mountain of a faraway land to slumber in peace and safety. A mountain you know well.”
Mt. Moon. So that’s how the fossil of a water-dwelling creature ended up there.
“I was not the only thing brought to that location,” he adds. “Were you to go there and open a certain seal according to my instructions, you would find a chamber with scrolls upon scrolls of history written in our forgotten language.”
Kohath stops, his yellow eyes scanning me. “I have been able to look more deeply into your thoughts now. What I have seen has convinced me that you are indeed worth my trust, and that is why I could tell you about that chamber. This benefits you as well - the chamber is an even better way for you to be convinced of my divinity.”
He takes the last steps to reach his original position in front of me. “I suppose I have rambled on for long enough now. Showing you this vision is beginning to exhaust me, so I shall pose the question I have been meaning to ask this entire time.”
What’s he gonna ask of me? Will there be repercussions if I say no? He did say he was starting to get exhausted, so he can’t have that much power left for retaliation.
“Will you,” he begins, his wild eyes locked in mine, “the one known as Red, follow in the footsteps of Kohath, the first ruler of the Helixian Kingdom, and his descendants? Will you accept training and powers from the god of chaos? Will you serve me?”
“Well… what does that involve?”
“In the beginning, not much. You would open the chamber and learn more of my children’s history. You would study certain spells and practice them. You would train your body and keep it healthy. Aside from that, your life would remain as it was only a few weeks prior.”
“Could I… stop at any time?”
“It would sadden me,” he says, glancing away, “but you would be free to do so, as long as you returned me and the scrolls to Mt. Moon. I would wait there for someone else to find me, someone who would accept my offer.” He then smiles again. “But, honestly speaking, it would greatly surprise me if you chose to quit. I know I offer much your heart desires. Power, control, and ultimately... happiness. Is that not what every being wants at their core?”
Happiness. Can he really offer that?
“One fact is certain - you can never know the answer to that if you reject this opportunity.”
He’s got me there.
The flames around us continue crackling. It’s a peaceful noise. I just wish I didn’t have such complicated issues to think about while listening to it.
“I truly should end this vision and rest now,” Kohath interrupts my thoughts. “Perhaps I do not need an answer quite yet. Instead, can you promise, at least, to still return to me someday with an answer? After He has been resurrected, perhaps? Your mind would be clearer.”
More time to think? I don’t see a problem there, even if it feels odd for him to suddenly offer it. “That I can promise,” I say, nodding.
“Thank you,” Kohath sighs. “Now I will return to my slumber, and you will awaken.”
I expect him to disappear, but his brow lowers.
"One last thing," he says. He stares straight into my eyes. "Do not bother with that brochure. Mareep have nothing to offer."
He smiles. "Farewell."
With one swoosh, all the flames go out. Darkness enshrouds me. Then a faint light awakens somewhere far away. It brightens. Comes closer. Closer.
It’s here.
I gasp, the air seeming so different. I see my backpack. I see the fossil peeking out. I’m in my room. Back in my room.
I blink. Yes, this is reality. What was that from before? It now feels like a dream. But also like I truly was there.
Hesitantly, I touch the stone again. It’s warm. Warmer than my skin. Is that a sign? There’s nothing that would have made it this warm in the physical world…
I get up and return to my bed. I can’t really describe how I feel. I guess… I guess that all just happened. I guess there really is something else to His godhood than just… the claim of its existence. And I guess there really is something beyond Him. A being from which beings like Him arise. Something like a higher god, something higher than Him, something like...
HIM?
Wait, he told me something else.
I get up and return to the bag. The brochure still lies on the floor beside it.
Do not bother… mareep have nothing to offer.
Mareep? Does that mean the others? The people unlike me? They do love being social and following each other, just like mareep…
I always thought they were stupid. Dumb herd animals. They want me to be like them, but I'm not. I'm different. But they're all the same.
They can't understand me. They think there's something wrong with me, when I'm really the only one who's sane!
These people get their joy for free. These people can't even understand how meaningless their lives are, how terrifying death is. How could they possibly help me? If I asked them, I bet they'd just tell me to make some friends. Because friendship solves everything. Love conquers all. How can they believe that shit? Right. Because they're mareep.
But, if things go like he said they would… it won't matter. Because I'll get Him back. I'll get my happiness back. Life will be worth living again.
And if the rest of what he told me is true, too...
I may just become happier than I'd ever imagined.
To hell with this brochure. It's a waste of time, a waste of thought. A waste of the tree that was chopped down to make it. A manifestation of uselessness.
I get up and walk to the trash bin. Having folded the brochure, I tear it in half and drop the pieces in the bin.
That's the end of that. Now to get the bag and go downstairs.
I have someone to resurrect.
Because TPP is the absolute opposite of a selling point, let me tell you that if you like unsettling stories and gods interacting with mortals, you may just enjoy this. If you happen to be one of the few who's taken the leap and checked out my other TPP stories (Seiren; Hunter, Haunted; Vivarium etc.), this fic can hopefully flesh out the contrived god system more. And you might even care about the characters themselves.
It wouldn't be a Canis TPP fic without some content warnings, so let it be known that this story contains:
- strong suicidal ideation (mostly at the start)
- cannibalism (not on-screen, but discussed)
- an F word (yes, only one)
Not a long list, but I feel that putting them in list form makes them more noticeable. Anyway, it's due to these elements that I rate this story mature.
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HIM
Synopsis: Upon returning from Mt. Silver, the place where his beloved lord was slain, Red is convinced life has nothing more to offer. Then a forgotten stone calls to him.
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That’s what Fonz said to my mother when he left. Quietly, but I still heard it.
It’s the first time anyone’s said that about me. I guess it’s not a thing the average person actually hears, but for a moment, it still felt like I was just like anyone else.
But that really applies for this entire thing. This is something I’ve never gone through before. I didn’t think it could happen to me. Hell, some time ago I thought it didn’t actually happen to anyone and everyone were just pretending like I was. But it really did. And now it’s happening to me as well, despite my difference.
Mourning.
Every second He’s gone, reality aches. And He’s gone every single second. There will never be another second He will be here, not a single second more I’ll spend without this pain.
When they mourned, I asked questions. Why do you care? It’s not you, is it? You didn’t even like them that much, did you? Them being gone doesn’t really affect your life, does it? Even if it did, couldn’t you just find someone else to fill the spot?
They never had a good answer for any of them, so I thought they were stupid, illogical. But now I understand. I still don’t care about their sorrow or the people that died, but I understand it.
It feels sick to look for a silver lining in something as devastating as this, but I guess there is one, and it’s the fact that one of my life-long questions has been answered. Not that it was worth Him being gone.
Gone. That word just hurts so much. But I can’t avoid it. It’s just the truth. If I lie, the truth will just get more painful, and the truth never leaves. It gnaws at the edge of your mind and no pesticide can kill it.
For a moment, I contemplate making a motion, but lose the will as soon as the truth finds me again. That there’s no point. There’s just no point now that He’s gone.
So I stay like I’ve been for who knows how long now. Lying in my bed, staring at the blank ceiling. Some primitive side of me claims that eventually I’ll have to move, but it clearly didn’t get the memo. There just is no point anymore.
It tries asking those questions I once asked. Why do you care? It’s not you, is it? I wish it had been. I wish I didn’t have to be alive to witness this. I wish the feraligatr had had just a little more bloodlust in him and finished me off as well. ‘Slain’ me too. ‘Slay’. I used to like that word. Now it’s almost as bad as ‘gone’.
Couldn’t you just find someone else to fill the spot? Sickening. Repulsive. Abhorrent. Deplorable. That’s what that idea is. It’s a suggestion someone with absolutely no understanding of the situation would offer. Or someone who knows exactly how appalling it is and wants to tickle my gag reflex because they’re just evil. Evil - another concept I’m starting to gain a better understanding of...
It’s true that it would probably be very possible to clone another from the fossil. They did it once, can’t be hard to do it again. But it wouldn’t be Him. It wouldn’t remember me. It’d be a spit in the face of His memory. It’d wear His face, have His voice, it could even learn about these things and learn to behave just like Him, but it wouldn’t be Him. Because He is dead. His soul, His consciousness, it’s gone. And there’s that word again.
I feel like crying - a feeling that used to be rare and only attached to the loss of simple benefits or experiences, but has been present nonstop since He… since He started to be gone. But I can’t cry anymore. My body can’t produce tears anymore. I dried my ducts out all the way back on the mountain. And, again, there’s really no point, is there.
...No. I think there’s one point left. Fonz knew that was a point, it’s why he said what he said. My mother knows it’s a point, it’s why she isn’t here doing what Fonz asked her to. It annoys me to think that going through with it will likely bring her great satisfaction, but I believe the relief I’ll get will outweigh the disappointment thousandfold.
I am and always have been afraid of death. Just like every being that can think. Our number one priority is to avoid the end of our lives, even if it’s inevitable for all.
Only now, I’m beginning to see the truth. Death will come. There’s no point in avoiding it. But there is one in bringing it in advance. Ending the pain. The pain that I wish I could rise above, but I’m just a human. Maybe if I was a god, I could, but I’m not and never will be.
So how will I do it? I’m specifically trying to get rid of pain, so I’d like it to be quick and not hurt that much. Then again, when it’s over with, I won’t care either way. I’ll have succeeded in erasing myself and will not be able to regret or want a do-over.
Guns do it fast and painless, but I’m fifteen. I’m not getting one of those any time soon, not that it’d be easy even then. Maybe in Unova it’d be a bit less difficult, but I’m not going to wait three years.
Poison? The bad kind is rather painful. The good kind is inaccessible. It might not work. Next.
Jumping off a high place. If that place is high up enough, it’s a sure shot. But I know my primal side would make the fall hell for my mind. I might, by some miracle, even find a good reason to keep living, and then I’d sure feel like an idiot. Let’s keep looking.
Train. Train… hm. Accessible, quick, possible to jump off the tracks if second thoughts come. I’d even make a nice splat and traumatize a couple of people in the process. Great way to give a final ‘fuck you’ to the world…
Red.
Yes, that’s my name. Or nickname, but… who called me?
No one said anything. I can’t remember any voice. But I was called.
Red. It happened again. It’s like I reacted to nothing, but clearly it can’t be nothing if I reacted.
Am I falling asleep and losing touch with the real world? That’s possible, but something like this has never happened during that trance-like state. Am I… am I going insane? Is this what it feels like to ‘hear things’? Has His death scarred me so badly that my brain has started malfunctioning?
Fossil. I saw the fossil. But it wasn’t in my sight. Only in my mind, without reason. Why would I think of that now? It has nothing to do with what I was thinking about.
Red. Again. Called. It’s called me three times now. Did it also give me that… image of the fossil? Does it want me to get the fossil?
Yes. How do I know that? What convinced me of that? I just know, and I don’t know why I know.
I have to get to the bottom of this now.
I get up. Moving feels so odd, having spent the past whatever minutes utterly without it or the will to make it happen. But I get off the bed and walk to my bag. The old bag, the one I carried around on my journey, not the newer one I used on the trip to the mountain. Just approaching it brings back memories. Mostly painful ones, but some sweet. He was there, on the journey. Before that, it was the fossil He was cloned from. It weighed a lot, but it was precious. It was part of my being. Just like He was after it. When He came, I left the fossil with those people. With Him around, I didn’t miss it much. But I did come and get it back once the journey was over. For old times’ sake. And it felt like it belonged to me, belonged in my house. But I found no place to put it, so it stayed in the bag.
I crouch and open the zipper. It’s still there. Grayish brown. Shape so familiar.
Touch.
We just spoke in unison, the voice and I. The non-voice and I. I’m meant to touch it.
I reach my hand in and…
...wait, what's that?
Some kind of folded paper peeks out of an inner pocket. A map? No, the map I had didn't look like that. Is it a bunch of receipts? No, the paper's too stiff and colorful. I'm curious now…
I pull the paper out and study it.
It appears to be some kind of… brochure. For mental health services.
White and green palette. Sad kid on a bench on the cover. Text saying mental health issues can happen to anyone, that there are people that can help, then a bunch of addresses and numbers…
...I remember now. Not how I got this, but that I've looked at this before. I figured that someone must have given it to me during my journey as an attempt to help. But I didn't pay this any more mind - I felt fine. Because I had… Him. But now I don't. And it feels awful.
This brochure promises help… but how could they help? They can't bring Him back. What could they possibly tell me to make my life worth living again? I've already thought of everything. It's not like I want life to be pain - I've tried to think of things to care about. There just aren't any. Unless I've… missed something.
Is there some truth I'm not seeing? Is there some trick I don't know? What is it that keeps everyone else living despite all the pain and sorrow they feel?
Maybe my brain is just broken. Maybe they could fix me?
Red.
Right. The fossil. I was supposed to…
Touch.
Alright. It's not like this brochure is going anywhere.
I set it down and touch the fossil’s rough surface.
…
Where am I?
Walls, ceiling, there are none. Instead, sky. Sand. Sea. It’s outside, but it’s warm. But it’s winter. It’s not supposed to be warm.
A soft breeze strokes my face. Is this… is this real? Am I dreaming? I feel too clear-headed. But I could also be asleep and have my standards for that lowered. Dream logic.
Okay. Okay… should I try to wake up? I don’t know, I have nowhere to be… and it’s pretty here. Comfortable. I could stay a while.
I stand up straight and look around myself. A calmly undulating sea stretches out into the horizon. The sky is a rich azure, covered here and there by a few puffy clouds white as snow. Behind me, the sand shifts to vibrant green grass some way in. I seem to be standing on the edge of a vast circular island.
Middle. There’s something in the middle. The non-voice tells me so. I can see a blot of something white, is that it?
I begin to walk towards the middle. The blot becomes bigger, sharper. There’s something golden, too. What is that shape? I speed up. Is that really…
It is. It’s a statue of Him. His skin is white marble, His shell is shining gold. He stands on a pedestal of the same kind of marble.
Or… is it of Him? It could be any omastar. Maybe it’s modeled after His appearance, but any clone would share it. There’s no guarantee it’s in His honor.
Something seems to be engraved on the front of the pedestal. Maybe it’ll give me the answer. This in mind, I hurry up, and in general… I know I have a burning desire to see and touch Him again. Even if He’s just stone.
Seconds of eternity later, I reach the statue. His face is level with my chest, so I kneel. Much better - now He’s higher than me. Even if His eyes are closed and He wouldn’t see it.
The detail is astounding. The striation of His beak, each sucker on His arms, all have been carved with care and striking accuracy. It’s like He really is there, only frozen in time, turned to stone. I want to break Him free. But I would only break Him.
The inscription. It’s text, yes, but those are letters I’ve never seen before. Are they even letters? Does it say anything?
HELIX, GOD OF CHAOS.
The non-voice. It read it for me.
“Who are you?” I whisper. I have to know now.
A wind slowly awakens. Blows at my face, creates waves in the grass. It was rather still before, wasn’t it. Am I being answered?
“I am your god.”
The statue. The statue spoke. It didn’t move, but I heard a voice. This time there really was a voice.
It was deep. Resounding. Masculine. Yet still gentle somehow.
The question I’m about to ask is stupid, but necessary,
“Is it You, my lord?”
“Yes… and no.”
What does that mean?
“He houses my spirit, but not my soul.”
Did he read my mind? He must have. The non-voice did answer a question before.
“I am a god. Your mind is open to me.”
So… do I need to speak?
“You need not, but I can sense this voiceless way of conversing unsettles you. You shall speak.”
Okay. Alright. I guess that might be easier.
“What did you mean by ‘spirit’?” I ask.
“It is a word I use for the part of me that He retains, one which allows Him to reincarnate and retain His memories.”
“Reincarnate?”
Some part of me, something lost in the void upon His departure, reawakens. I’ve received hope. But false hope is agony.
“Yes. He can be brought back - not only His body, but His soul. That is what my spirit allows. The continued existence of a soul beyond death.”
Don’t be lying. Please don’t be lying now. That would be too cruel. Beyond anything I could justify.
“You’re telling me that if I had Him cloned from the fossil again, it would really be Him? Not just a clone? And He’d even remember me?”
“Yes. You always knew He was divine, did you not? Did you think a god could be erased by a mere lizard?”
I… I guess he has a point? My lord didn’t really have many things differentiating him from a normal mortal omastar, objectively speaking. I’m starting to feel a bit stupid. He was a god, right? Gods have to have some powers.
But… I’m not going to just take this guy’s word for something and change my entire world view. I’m not, am I?
He’s already heard it, no doubt, but I ask the question. “How can I trust you?”
“Currently, you do not have much reason.”
Oddly open...
“But I tell you this. Take this stone in which my soul resides and have Him brought back. When He sees you, He shall know you, and you shall know I am speaking the truth.”
I suppose I have nothing to lose. But I’ll need to convince my team to agree to this. They weren’t too big on cloning Him, either. Not sure how I’ll tell them how I found this out…
“It is imperative,” he suddenly speaks, “that you do not let them know of my existence. Tell them it was the Voices. Those called them to the mountain, and the new host did arrive as promised. They shall believe it.”
For just a moment, I revisit a thought that’s come every now and then. If only we hadn’t listened. He’d still be alive.
“This all pains you,” he speaks again, “I am aware of that. But know that His death is what has allowed me to contact you. It was necessary.”
Lots of questions arise, but I choose the one I’m worried I might forget if I don’t ask it now. “Why shouldn’t I tell the others about you?”
A rumble. I cower like a pichu, which brings me shame, but I get the feeling this reaction was expected.
The statue of Him trembles with the earthquake - then all motion ceases. His eyes are now open, golden.
“Red,” the voice speaks. “You are not like the other humans, are you?”
In what way? Although… I have a feeling I know what he means.
“You do not feel like other humans,” he continues. The feeling strengthens.
“It’s true,” I say. “But what does that have to do with you?”
He smiles, quite widely. I feel it from the air this time.
“I am the perfect god for you.”
The lights go out. Or, I mean, the sun. But it was as instantaneous as a flick of a switch. The darkness covers my sight.
Swishes, lights. Flames are igniting in midair around me, forming a stationary ring. They illuminate my surroundings, which have remained the same - save for the statue, which has disappeared. Something else stands in its place. Someone.
I get up and take a few steps back. The one who’s appeared doesn’t move. He’s short, a head shorter than me, but he looks my age. His skin, from what I can tell in the flames’ light, is darker than mine, and his wavy short hair seems to be a very dark brown. He’s not Tohjoan, not by those features or his facial ones. His nose is larger and more angular, and his eyes are wider. His genes are from lands more southern, clearly. His clothing, on the other hand, looks like it also came from the past. His white robes seem hand-sown, rather sloppily so, and he lacks shoes altogether.
“Who are you?” I ask, studying him further. His eyes are sunken, tired. His skin shows scars and wearing. It's clear he's no royalty. He's someone poorer, maybe even a slave. His ribs shine through his skin, but he does have some musculature. I feel like he's constantly two seconds away from asking for food. Yet something's stopping him. Fear? Pride? Or perhaps he knows I wouldn't understand him. He likely speaks another language.
“This,” he says, catching me off guard, “is Kohath. He lived a few millennia ago in a land far from yours.”
It seems the voice is speaking through the boy. Took me a bit to get that, as Kohath’s voice is still used. His pitch is about the same as mine and others our age, but he speaks in the same way as the voice before did.
“Kohath was a manservant, under the ownership of a sailor's family. He was underfed, overworked, mistreated. He was below even the miltank of the house. Miltank who ate well, as well as the family did.”
Kohath's dark eyes slowly intensify in an emotion. A combination of wrath and hopelessness. I flinch at the glare. Not because I fear him, but because I've seen the same stare many times in my own reflection.
“Kohath dreamt of revenge, but knew any action he took would result in tenfold retribution. His masters simply had too much power. The law was on their side. He could not protest, he could not leave. He considered death, but knew it was not what he sought. He wanted his masters to suffer, not himself.
“One day, fate rewarded Kohath. He saw a creature stuck between some rocks on the shore. This creature was an omastar, a rare sight, but even more peculiar was the fact that it spoke. It pleaded Kohath to free it, offering a great reward in return. Kohath saw an opportunity, even if he saw little promise in it, and helped the omastar.
“This omastar was my vessel at the time. Not only to my spirit, but to my soul. I showed Kohath my power, which impressed him greatly. It was only a fraction of my true power, as I was weak at the time, much like I am again now - but what I gave to Kohath was enough to change his life for good.
“Knowledge of spells and seals. Training to hone his skills and wit. Courage to rise up against his masters. With these, Kohath's days of servitude would soon be over. As his masters finally found out about him leaving every now and then to see me, the time had come. The family attempted to attack him, but I had given him power. With it, he struck back. He reached for the vengeance he had dreamt of all those years and plucked it like a fresh pecha. Every human that lived in that house - he slaughtered them, deaf to their cries. As I had advised, he left the miltank be due to their high value. Instead, he sated his lifelong hunger with the flesh of the slain.”
Wait, he ate…
“Yes,” the voice inhabiting Kohath speaks. “To you, that would be called cannibalism.”
“Isn’t it…”
“Frowned upon, putting it softly?” Kohath smiles. “Perhaps. But setting that aside, what really is wrong about it? The killing? You were not shocked when I told you of that. You do not care what others think of you, do you? You do not mourn the deaths of those who do not bring you benefit, do you? What is it about consuming human flesh that upsets you?”
“It’s...”
...well, this is strange. Why did that idea sound so disturbing? I’m not one of the people against eating feral mon. Why should humans be different? If a human died of natural causes, it wouldn’t even be murder, it wouldn’t be something that would bring a threat to me if allowed. It’s not like it’s something like eating insects, either - human flesh can’t be that different from other mammals’ meat. But there is one thing...
“Isn’t it dangerous?” I ask. “With diseases and so on.”
“As dangerous as it is to eat any other creature,” he nonchalantly responds. “If the one you consume is healthy and the flesh is properly prepared, there is nothing to worry about - as long as you stay away from the brain and liver. I am sure some research later on shall tell you why those organs should be avoided. Currently, I have a story to continue.”
I wonder what the point of the story is.
“In just a while, you shall understand,” he says. “Having sold his masters’ miltank, he left town, carrying along my vessel. I continued to advise and train him as he survived in the wilds by hunting. With my help, he became like one of nature's own, only blessed with superior wit and spells of my creation. Disease avoided him, kept away by my healing touch.”
As he speaks, Kohath's body changes before me. His ribs are covered by fat and muscle. His proportions and facial features mature, growing him up to my height, then higher, higher by a whole head. Stubble on his chin grows into a full beard that eventually merges with his long, shaggy hair. His voice deepens, somewhat beginning to resemble the original voice of the speaker.
All of that is plausible through normal maturation, but one change isn’t as natural - the one in his eyes. The dark irides have lit up with yellow, its hue richer than any humans’ and closer to the color persian occasionally have. It certainly feels like I’m staring at a wild beast.
“Eventually, word spread about Kohath the man-beast. There were men who attempted to capture him, but those attempts only resulted in their deaths. Kohath consumed their flesh and marked their bones to warn others. With time, Kohath encountered different kinds of strangers that sought him - ones willing to join his company. Kohath wanted to turn them away, but I convinced him to let them stay. So they did, learning Kohath's ways by watching and mimicking. I gave them my blessing as well, and so I gained more followers. With more manpower, they could build more, take down larger prey. A clan of sorts was born. This clan grew in numbers as time went on, and so did my powers.
“My followers and I saw this way of living to be ideal, and we sought to expand our influence further. At first, we begun conquering villages. These battles were not without their losses, but the victor was always clear. Kohath's clan grew and grew. From a leader of only a few men, Kohath eventually became a king to thousands. And this was how the Helixian Kingdom, a nation of warriors beyond human, was born.”
A white light envelops Kohath. He gains even more height, another head of it, he's over two meters now! I step back without even thinking. The light withdraws, exposing the giant with his beard and hair now trimmed. His neck and limbs are draped in jewelry, glistening with gold, silver and gemstones. His white robe now truly becomes white, utterly spotless instead of the dull and dirty off-white from his days as a hunter.
“As you see,” he says, “I have much to offer to my servants. Much I believe you would be interested in.” He smiles, his teeth exposed, and I notice his canines are larger and pointier than the average man’s.
He’s intimidating, but I dare to doubt, even if it accelerates my pulse. “How come I’ve never heard of this kingdom?”
“A good question,” Kohath says and steps to his side. Movement from him after being stationary for practically all of his time here startles me, but I calm down somewhat after pinning down his path, which encircles me. I turn constantly to face him, still, as he doesn’t seem like someone you’d want to turn your back on.
“The answer is that, unfortunately, this kingdom did not last forever. Why that was... I can tell you about that some other day. But the short story is that our enemies knew exactly the fate we hated and made it true. Being erased. Not feared, not reviled, but utterly deleted from existence. It was in their favor, as well - a kingdom that once thrived can be resurrected by future generations that admire it, but a kingdom that never was cannot. All the evidence was eradicated… or that was their attempt. But I had foreseen the fall of my beloved clan and devised a way to preserve myself for a better time. Upon my request, the last of my servants brought me to a mysterious mountain of a faraway land to slumber in peace and safety. A mountain you know well.”
Mt. Moon. So that’s how the fossil of a water-dwelling creature ended up there.
“I was not the only thing brought to that location,” he adds. “Were you to go there and open a certain seal according to my instructions, you would find a chamber with scrolls upon scrolls of history written in our forgotten language.”
Kohath stops, his yellow eyes scanning me. “I have been able to look more deeply into your thoughts now. What I have seen has convinced me that you are indeed worth my trust, and that is why I could tell you about that chamber. This benefits you as well - the chamber is an even better way for you to be convinced of my divinity.”
He takes the last steps to reach his original position in front of me. “I suppose I have rambled on for long enough now. Showing you this vision is beginning to exhaust me, so I shall pose the question I have been meaning to ask this entire time.”
What’s he gonna ask of me? Will there be repercussions if I say no? He did say he was starting to get exhausted, so he can’t have that much power left for retaliation.
“Will you,” he begins, his wild eyes locked in mine, “the one known as Red, follow in the footsteps of Kohath, the first ruler of the Helixian Kingdom, and his descendants? Will you accept training and powers from the god of chaos? Will you serve me?”
“Well… what does that involve?”
“In the beginning, not much. You would open the chamber and learn more of my children’s history. You would study certain spells and practice them. You would train your body and keep it healthy. Aside from that, your life would remain as it was only a few weeks prior.”
“Could I… stop at any time?”
“It would sadden me,” he says, glancing away, “but you would be free to do so, as long as you returned me and the scrolls to Mt. Moon. I would wait there for someone else to find me, someone who would accept my offer.” He then smiles again. “But, honestly speaking, it would greatly surprise me if you chose to quit. I know I offer much your heart desires. Power, control, and ultimately... happiness. Is that not what every being wants at their core?”
Happiness. Can he really offer that?
“One fact is certain - you can never know the answer to that if you reject this opportunity.”
He’s got me there.
The flames around us continue crackling. It’s a peaceful noise. I just wish I didn’t have such complicated issues to think about while listening to it.
“I truly should end this vision and rest now,” Kohath interrupts my thoughts. “Perhaps I do not need an answer quite yet. Instead, can you promise, at least, to still return to me someday with an answer? After He has been resurrected, perhaps? Your mind would be clearer.”
More time to think? I don’t see a problem there, even if it feels odd for him to suddenly offer it. “That I can promise,” I say, nodding.
“Thank you,” Kohath sighs. “Now I will return to my slumber, and you will awaken.”
I expect him to disappear, but his brow lowers.
"One last thing," he says. He stares straight into my eyes. "Do not bother with that brochure. Mareep have nothing to offer."
He smiles. "Farewell."
With one swoosh, all the flames go out. Darkness enshrouds me. Then a faint light awakens somewhere far away. It brightens. Comes closer. Closer.
It’s here.
I gasp, the air seeming so different. I see my backpack. I see the fossil peeking out. I’m in my room. Back in my room.
I blink. Yes, this is reality. What was that from before? It now feels like a dream. But also like I truly was there.
Hesitantly, I touch the stone again. It’s warm. Warmer than my skin. Is that a sign? There’s nothing that would have made it this warm in the physical world…
I get up and return to my bed. I can’t really describe how I feel. I guess… I guess that all just happened. I guess there really is something else to His godhood than just… the claim of its existence. And I guess there really is something beyond Him. A being from which beings like Him arise. Something like a higher god, something higher than Him, something like...
HIM?
Wait, he told me something else.
I get up and return to the bag. The brochure still lies on the floor beside it.
Do not bother… mareep have nothing to offer.
Mareep? Does that mean the others? The people unlike me? They do love being social and following each other, just like mareep…
I always thought they were stupid. Dumb herd animals. They want me to be like them, but I'm not. I'm different. But they're all the same.
They can't understand me. They think there's something wrong with me, when I'm really the only one who's sane!
These people get their joy for free. These people can't even understand how meaningless their lives are, how terrifying death is. How could they possibly help me? If I asked them, I bet they'd just tell me to make some friends. Because friendship solves everything. Love conquers all. How can they believe that shit? Right. Because they're mareep.
But, if things go like he said they would… it won't matter. Because I'll get Him back. I'll get my happiness back. Life will be worth living again.
And if the rest of what he told me is true, too...
I may just become happier than I'd ever imagined.
To hell with this brochure. It's a waste of time, a waste of thought. A waste of the tree that was chopped down to make it. A manifestation of uselessness.
I get up and walk to the trash bin. Having folded the brochure, I tear it in half and drop the pieces in the bin.
That's the end of that. Now to get the bag and go downstairs.
I have someone to resurrect.
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