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| Welcome to Sectarians of Eliraihah.. We are a group of those striving to create a utopia for roleplayers and writers alike, and provide a shelter from the normal confines of society. On our behalf, enjoy yourself. Your friendly overlord, --Crimson Knight |
| 404-Ben; ...yeah, it's a short story. | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: May 2 2009, 12:37 AM (309 Views) | |
| Post #1 May 2 2009, 12:37 AM | EntropicShock |
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The wrath of the heavens in a vicious flash of lightning crashed to the rocky ground. The creature it struck vanished, obliterated in a surge of energy and heat, leaving only ash. The grass smoldered; tiny, flickering flames sprouted only to lose in a struggle for survival with the wind that carried away the smoke. Only the strong lived, after all. About ten feet away, a young man straightened and brushed the dust from his clothes. He didn’t seem startled in the least by the sudden burst of destruction – it did anything but wipe the smug, if tiny, grin from his lips. This was the king of the world at his humblest, gazing over the crackling aftermath of his fiery glory. Victory was sweet, if short-lived. “Will, what are you doing? Lunch ends in three minutes!” That smile quickly fell as a crackle of static blasted into his ear. His grand parade, with its magnificent music and lights, had been quite successfully rained upon. Will groaned, and shoved a lock of mahogany hair out of the way to lightly press a button on the device in and around his ear. “Come on, Chel’,” he responded, a hint of a whine in his tone, “I only need four more drakes for this quest. If I log out I’ll have to start all over!” “You play Eranjit enough – I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time. And you’re not making me late for class again!” “Go without me, if you’re that concerned!” “Who are you kidding? You won’t go at all if I leave you alone! So hurry up!” “Alright, alright…” he grumbled, shaking his head. Chelsea was right, of course. The earpiece was, in technicality, what connected him to reality from the world of Eranjit-404. If it wasn’t for his best friend, he would never even think to use it. She was his real grounding cable, and probably the only thing still pointing him towards graduation. Moving his fingers to press a larger button, he sighed. An hour’s worth of questing down the drain. This variety used to be finished in less than the time it had taken him to start. Even that tiny sliver of time had passed more quickly – there had never been a dull moment when the swordsman was at the sorcerer’s side. It just wasn’t the same, playing alone. Not that the quest, or much of anything else, mattered anymore. Eranjit wasn’t the same as it used to be. Since the accident, Eranjit-404 would never be the same. Dark blue eyes reluctantly fluttered open, adjusting to the fluorescent lighting as Will pried off his headset and grudgingly took in the unwelcome sight of the school library. Muttering darkly under his breath, he shoved it and the attached handheld into a case, then shoved the case into his bag. “Will, you’ve got two minutes to get from here to the other side of the building,” Chelsea snapped from behind him, her books and computer already neatly under one arm. “And once you’re there I still have to get to my own class. I don’t care how much sleep you say you didn’t get last night – you’d better run.” His only answer was another breath’s worth of mumbled grievances. Even so, he pushed himself to his feet and shrugged his bag over one shoulder, slumping dejectedly. Class was the last place he wanted to go. Damn Chelsea and her damn obsession with grades. Will had never found much importance in a letter on a piece of paper – lately he’d cared less than ever. Though, in perspective, he’d cared for very little since the night he and his brother had turned eighteen. He shuffled blindly along behind her as she exited the library. Knowing Chelsea, she was nattering at him about one thing or another, but, lost in his musings as he was, her words fell upon deaf ears. He was wrapped up in something – he couldn’t quite say what. It wasn’t a gloom, per se. Perhaps the closest way to describe it would be… emptiness? Yes, emptiness sounded right. He felt… drilled into and hollowed out, like a tree shared by ten thousand woodpeckers that had since abandoned the forest – empty. The feeling was nigh constant – his only escape from it lay in Eranjit’s colorful world of fantasies and memories. The game had a certain knack for plugging his holes, if only for a little while. Belatedly realizing his friend had stopped walking, he nearly fell over his own feet as he tried to follow suit without crashing into her. The sudden change snapped him back to reality just in time to catch her last sentence. “What would Ben say if you flunked out of school?” He had to roll his eyes at that one. “Are you kidding? Ben skips way more than I do and you know it!” Chelsea’s face fell. He saw it and ignored it, slipping past her into the sparsely decorated classroom and leaving her alone with her worries. He didn’t care what she was thinking – or so he told himself. But his words had struck a nerve, he knew that much. He must have said something wrong. It had been four months already, but Will still couldn’t make himself speak of his twin in the past tense. History class drifted by in a hazy blur. Every second dragged on for an eternity and a half as his glossy blue eyes stared fixedly at the hands of the clock. But for all the monotony, when the bell finally rang Will had no recollection of any time spent at his desk. The past hour had left another blank space in his memory files – one of far too many. He lost his focus far too easily as of late. His mind was no less blank as he wandered out into the hallway, his legs on autopilot as he drifted aimlessly towards the locker rooms. He could stay in there easily enough, he reasoned wearily. Whether or not he showed up for gym mattered even less than the rest of the things that hardly mattered to him anymore. As long as no one saw him go in, no one would know that he hadn’t come out. “Don’t forget a sweatshirt when you change,” called a voice from behind him, “I heard they’re dragging us outside today.” Will’s head drooped pathetically as he came to a halt. “Isn’t the girls’ locker room halfway down the hall?” he asked dully. Best friend or not, Chelsea had a bad habit of showing up at all the worst possible times. So much for slipping in and out unnoticed. “Just thought I’d give you the warning,” the girl called, her voice retreating – heading for her own locker, he figured. Without another word, he limply pulled open one side of the double door and made his way to the last row of plastic benches and combination locks, his feet dragging behind him. Now he had to go to class. If he didn’t, she would come looking for him. He barely noticed the time it took to put his things away and change clothes. Before his mind could quite comprehend what he was doing or what was going on around him, he was already caught within a small mob of identically dressed students making their way to the basketball courts. He vaguely noticed the mob splitting into teams and spreading out on the blacktop, though only because Chelsea had grabbed his arm and pulled him towards a hoop on the far end. “Watch your step!” he just as vaguely heard the coach yell across the expanse of the courts, “The asphalt might be a little icy in spots, so be careful not to—” Ice? —The road was icy, but it hadn’t worried him much. Ben was a good driver. What could possibly— —the approaching headlights swung to the side with the scream of skidding tires. The scene before his eyes seemed to pause, frozen in time… then a sickening crunch of screeching metal on metal, a grating crack of a shattered window, his own strangled cry—then everything went black— —he forced his heavy eyelids open. He was flat on his back, his jacket was wet— —“…two survivors… they’re not too bad… got the driver out…”— “Will?” —“…torso’s completely smashed in… nothing we can do…”— “Will, snap out of it!” —the damp feeling had soaked through his clothes now—the paramedic by the stretcher that lay on the ground rose to his feet and shook his head. “This one’s gone…”— “Will!” Chelsea’s voice had risen almost to a yell, taking on uncharacteristic traces of panic as her fingernails dug into his shoulders. His eyes flew abruptly to her face, locked on the lines on her left cheek, courtesy of a shattered windowpane on a dark, icy night. “I’m fine!” he snapped hastily, a small crack in his strained voice as he jerked out of her grip and turned away. His breath had quickened, coming in uneven gasps as blood pounded in his ears. He didn’t want to see those scars. She shook her head and turned away, clearly in disagreement but disinclined to argue, then shoved her hands into the pocket of her sweatshirt. “I’ll tell Coach Rennet you’re sick,” she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for protest. “Let’s go inside.” Going inside would mean being pressed for an explanation. It would mean dealing with Chelsea’s thinly veiled attempts to trick him into telling her things he absolutely did not want to talk about. But still… she was offering to bail him out of class. He wasn’t going to argue with that. “Fine,” he sighed, “I’ll meet you outside the locker rooms.” With that, he headed for the door, not caring whether or not the coach would really give his permission. It was just another entry on the list of things that just didn’t matter. Only once safely indoors and away from the others did Will allow himself to bite his lip and wince, fighting back the bile that had risen in his throat. His eyes stung – he blamed it on the change in temperature. Even so, he hastily made for his locker, before anyone could get the wrong impression. He was not going to cry. His tear ducts were simply being disagreeable. After fumbling with the dial for a moment or two, he tossed the lock onto the closest bench and sat beside it. Next he ripped off his sweatshirt and flung it haphazardly into the locker; not intending to participate in the first place, he hadn’t bothered to change his pants or shirt. The small metal box was shut with a slam, the discarded lock roughly replaced. With a sigh, he shrugged his open bag over one shoulder, taking one wistful look at its contents before zipping it shut. It would be so easy just to plug into the game, so easy to hide in another world and leave his troubles behind him… …but no. He had something left to do before he could let Eranjit-404 usher him into a world without this brand of pain. Chelsea was already waiting when he stepped out into the hallway. As soon as she saw him, she opened her mouth to speak. He raised his hand, silencing her before she could even start. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he told her sharply, but softened a bit at the look on her face. “Not now, at least.” “Later, then?” she pleaded. “Later.” “You promise?” “Yeah, sure.” That seemed to placate her, at least for the moment. Letting his tense muscles slacken, if only a little, Will leaned against the wall and sank to the floor. He could feel her eyes – she was watching him. Trying to decide what to say, he supposed. He continued to stare straight ahead at the opposite wall as she sat down next to him and looked up at the lights. “So,” she began, her voice slightly hesitant, “How’s that program you’ve been working on turning out?” He couldn’t completely cover his sigh of relief, nor did he really bother to try. It was a welcome change of subject. “Pretty well, actually,” he murmured, gazing at the ceiling himself. “It’s nearly done.” “Your focus for the class was—” “Artificial intelligence.” “Overachiever, aren’t we?” she mocked, then giggled. “Never thought I’d be saying that to you.” He smiled at that. He even managed to force out a tiny laugh. “Mr. Turner says I’ve got a knack for it.” “Figures, with you.” His smile widened. “It should be finished in class today. I’m going to test it after school.” “In Eranjit?” “Where else?” She smirked and shook her head. “How long did this thing take?” He shrugged blandly. “Three and a half months, give or take.” Mild as his words were, they were quick to wipe the smile from Chelsea’s lips. “Will… then? What were you—” “It distracted me.” She hugged her knees to her chest, her mouth pursed with concern. Whatever she had meant to say, though, was cut off by the bell. Popping her lips back out as she exhaled, she pushed herself to her feet and reached an arm out to the boy. “Later. You promised.” He took the offered hand and pulled himself into a standing position. “I know.” Will’s fingers were as fluid as any pianist’s as they sailed across the keyboard, seamlessly punching in line after line of finishing touches to his code. A sense of frantic excitement had so overwhelmed him that he could hardly breathe. This was it. Finally, he’d taste the sweet fruit of all his labor. The sound of fingers to keys stopped abruptly. As if in a trance, he pushed himself away from the desk, the wheels on the cheap computer lab chair rolling back until they bumped the desk behind him. When the chair stopped moving, he rose slowly to his feet, gazing at his monitor with an awestruck expression. “It’s done.” His voice was loud enough to hear at every corner of the room, and Mr. Turner, who taught the class, coughed tactfully. “William,” he said wearily, “Kindly take your seat…” He obeyed, flopping back into his chair as Chelsea rolled her eyes at him from the computer to his left, though before he could slide back in, she had cut in front of him with a soft, “Let me see!” He’d shown her enough of his work that the girl knew a Four-Oh-Four script when she saw one – Will had been using Eranjit’s programming language for years now. As such, she wasn’t surprised when he pushed her lightly to the side and plugged his handheld into the computer, downloading the code to bring it to life. Once the download was complete and his content had been established in the server, he pocketed the gadget, the attached headset now hanging loosely around his neck. It was only then that he moved aside and let her back in. “Comments are at the top,” he told her, rolling back again in boredom. He was done with his coursework for the moment. He wanted to test his code now, not later! As if to balance out his fidgeting, though, Chelsea stopped dead as she read what he’d written. “Will,” she murmured as she turned to stare into his eyes, her own as wide as they could physically go, “what is this?” He met her gaze coolly. “Exactly what it looks like.” “But it—” “It’s 404-Ben.” Neither of the two moved an inch for what seemed like a silent eternity. Everyone in the lab was still, even those who were completely uninvolved – while the meaning of the words was lost on them, something was clearly very wrong. But the moment suspended in time was shattered as Chelsea grabbed Will by the arm and fled the classroom. The girl gasped for breath as she stopped running, and violently threw her bewildered best friend’s limb to the side. He stumbled after it, an opportunity she took to shove him to the ground. “What in hell are you thinking?!” she yelled down to his fallen form, “Well?! Start talking!” Her voice cracked noticeably. “You promised we’d talk later! Damn it to hell, Will, it’s later now!” He stared at the floor, still reeling in shock. “You don’t understand,” he wheezed, “I just—” “You just what?!” Her pitch now approached a scream. He lifted his head just a bit, looking straight at the wall as if he’d never seen anything like it. His deep blue eyes shone with glee – but upon closer inspection, that ecstasy was no more than a cheap varnish over sheer, unfiltered desperation. Passing over the wall, he finally dared to look her in the eyes. “Chelsea,” he breathed, awestruck, “I can bring him back.” Silence. Then— “Bring… bring him back?” Only then did his spinning mind process what his eyes were taking in. Chelsea, her face in a deluge of tears, swung a hand at his head, sending it flying back to nearly collide with the linoleum floor. “I can’t believe you!” Will’s eyes flickered back downwards. “I though you’d be happy,” he mumbled dully. The only sounds he could hear were her shuddering, cracked breaths as she gathered her bearings. It didn’t take her long. “Ben is dead, Will!” she shrieked, “That car crushed him into goddamn paste! He’s dead, alright?!” Her voice broke. “Ben is dead, and he’s not coming back! Not ever!” “You’re wrong,” he whispered. His face was now unreadable, but his eyes were not seeing that which he stared at so pointedly. “Let me show you.” She had nothing to say to that. She only could gaze, speechless, as her flooding eyes turned the image of the boy in front of her into a blurred and garbled mess. He wouldn’t get another opportunity like this one. Like a cornered animal, Will scrambled to his feet, and ran. Even if she gave chase, he had the advantage of speed. She couldn’t catch him. Sprinting through the hallways as if he fled from an avalanche, he finally ducked into an empty office. Collapsing against a wall and sliding into the corner, he heard footsteps approaching – not right outside, but Chelsea was definitely gaining on him. This was his last chance. He knew it. If he waited another single moment, it would slip through his fingers forever. Grabbing the headset from around his neck, he hastily hooked it over his ears and pressed the pair of electrodes to his temples. His handheld was quickly powered up. The door to his hiding place flew open just as he flicked down the visor and activated the system. Will opened his eyes to the familiar light gray flagstone of his sorcerer’s keep in the northeast quadrant of Mirage Glade – it was his default entry point to the world of Eranjit-404. Today, it would have been nice just to stay there and listen to the songbirds outside… but habit sent him to his feet and down the winding spiral staircase of the tower. Pushing open the heavy wooden door, he squinted as his eyes adjusted to the Glade’s glimmering sunlight, and took several steps forward on the small footpath. “Sheesh, Will. Took you long enough to get here!” His head flew to the side, his eyes capturing a figure seated atop the boulder resting in the structure’s shade. The sorcerer’s face grinned infectiously in a swordsman’s body. His mirror image leaped to the ground and jogged lightly over to him. “Feels like it’s been ages since we’ve done this!” the swordsman – 404-Ben – commented cheerily. “Sure as hell has been!” Will agreed, his casual tone offset by the strange wetness he could feel on his face. He grinned, though, and greedily grabbed Ben’s mantle to wipe it off. He could feel his twin’s presence. He could feel the scratchy cloth on his face, the heat of the other’s body, even the beating of his heart. This wasn’t a dream. Ben was here. “Will, that’s not your brother!” his earpiece crackled. He could hear tears in the speaker’s voice. “404-Ben is not Benjamin Conway! It never was, it never will be!” He ignored it. This was Ben – his Ben. Who else could it be? That other world didn’t matter anymore. This was all he needed. Eranjit was the only life he had that meant anything. “Just come back, Will!” Chelsea cried through the static-filled connection. He could almost feel her desperation. But it was to no avail. “I’m not going back there,” he whispered, pressing a finger to the communication button on his ear. “I won’t.” “I know Ben’s gone!” Hiccupping sobs made the message almost indecipherable. “But you’re not! You’re throwing away your future for the past, don’t you understand?!” She gasped for breath as she struggled to go on. “I lost Ben – I don’t want to lose you!” There was nothing he could say to that. He could taste her anguish, now. It left a sour flavor in his mouth, edged with bitterness. But it wasn’t real. Not here. “Will, please don’t do this to me!” “I’m sorry, Chel’,” he whispered— —then ripped the device from his ear and crushed it under his boot. |
Peasant
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| Post #2 May 2 2009, 01:44 PM | Scorp |
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That was thoroughly entertaining, Leah. Its cliffhanger ending reminded me of some of Ray Bradbury's science fiction, particularly his story, "The Veldt". There were multiple instances where you used, "if only for a moment", or something very similar... I would suggest not doing it quite so much in the future, since it gets redundant. I'm also assuming we're left to believe that this is some futuristic virtual reality game, correct? Similar to the ".hack" series in design? An intriguing concept, since many people have completely lost their lives to MMORPGs. Anywho, I definitely liked it. |
Omnipotent Emperor of the Universe
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| Post #3 May 2 2009, 02:13 PM | EntropicShock |
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Yeah, it's far less than polished xD I wrote it in a weekend for my first semester final for creative writing class. It needs much editing but I'm always too lazy to actually DO it. And yes x3 that would basically be it. Yay for VR MMORPG addicts. |
Peasant
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| Post #4 May 6 2009, 01:18 AM | Fenrisulfr. |
| I liked it as well, bravo to you Entropic. |
Loveable Hate Machine
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| Post #5 May 6 2009, 08:58 PM | Sgt. Tacoz |
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That . . . was . . . amazing . . . O.o I thoughrouly enjoyed that Entropic. ^^ |
I happen to know for a fact that Unicorns puke rainbows.
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| Post #6 Jul 7 2009, 05:14 PM | Grunt_of_War |
Amazing. I loved it.
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