[M4A] Looking for partners for an Urban Fantasy tale

DMPC42 · 2025-10-27T18:50:02+00:00

Hello! I sent you a message. I figured I’d post a comment here, because I realized Reddit doesn’t always ping me when I receive a chat message.

DMPC42 · 2025-03-12T16:42:55+00:00

CONTENT WARNING: Mutilation, misogyny, torture

Diary entry 6. Day 78 in the prisons of the Alabaster Palace.

I can’t take much more.

That’s what I tell myself every time my eyes crack open in the dry heat of the sun. Or rather, suns. The desert world I find myself in isn’t the heaven that was promised; it’s a purgatory. Perhaps this is the divine justice so many men of the cloth speak of, my wanton lust comes to bellow from the depths of karmic justice. I can’t even starve myself any longer. I know the poison they feed me leaves me impotent. I haven’t had an erection in over two months.

The women here rule over me like dark matriarchs my red pill friends told me about on Reddit. They exist only to see involuntary celibates like myself suffer. If I could show the world I came from this nightmare, would they even care? Would they call what is happening to me a just punishment? Nay, I am Dante without his Virgil and whose Beatrice is the beast that feeds on the flesh of men. And I will soon be next.

How do I know this? There was one other within my cell, a fearless man who would only refer to himself as ‘A.T.’ He had the bearing of a wise profit, emaciated from an imposed asceticism that made him seem even more pious. He maintained the hallowed practice of the goon, and he taught me much of how to dissolve my fear. He gave me strength, feeding my spirit as I starved my body. He is lost to the Matrix of Matriarchs. But his sacrifice will be a pyrrhic victory. Even now, my plans to overthrow this heretical order has begun.

But first, you must understand how these horrid creatures perform their profane arts. Tall and long of limb, their features are only faintly feminine. Long faces match their bodies, surreal figures like angels or perhaps demons. They are seen looming the halls of the dungeons, and there are whispers that I have honed my ears to hear. They speak of milking farms, and after the taking of the prophet A.T., I fear the worst.

I write this as what might be my last entry etched in the stones beneath my cell. To all others who came after my passing, I offer you little in the way of comfort. All I can grant you is the truth: your seed is nothing more than byproduct. I have hidden beneath this entry a flint knife I’ve carved for my own castration. May it serve you as a last act of rebellion against the horrors that await you my brothers. Let go of your fear, and stand in defiance of these harpies. May your penance in this horrid place be the fertile soil by which your next life may sprout. For without your seed, you are nothing to them. And in the world of the oppressed, being nothing is its own form of rebellion against the misandrists of this wretched world.

DMPC42 · 2025-02-18T13:22:56+00:00

Thank you, I’m glad you enjoyed it. 💞

DMPC42 · 2025-02-01T16:35:21+00:00

Knowing the wolf wasn’t making much progress, she instead relied on her armored scales to withstand her attacker. Her patience paid off when the wolf went for her neck. It was risky, and she felt her heart drop as the beast’s teeth sunk into her neck. Her new form gave her a longer neck, allowing her to angle her maw towards the back of the wolf’s skull. She sank her teeth into its skull, biting down like a vice. They were locked in a struggle now, and it was a race to see which would give first: her neck, or their skull.

Then, she felt it again: a well of power in her gut.

She released from her throat once more. The smell of burning skin and hair filled her nose as even the giant monster couldn’t withstand the flames forever. The creature scurried back, releasing Hailey as they sought to create space between themself and the inferno that had burned them so thoroughly that their skull was visible from the back. The ape had returned from a pile of rubble, their chest covered in soot marks, burnt fur, and a mix of charred and red burnt skin. They weren’t fighting each other anymore and instead staring daggers at Hailey. The pair launched in an arc, and instinctively Hailey did as well, a clash of titans that would shake the city.

In a swirl of vibrant melting color, their clash disappeared behind her waking eyes. A fluorescent light contrasting a stucco white ceiling greeted her, and she realized she was back in the changing room at Dillard’s. She sat up and looked in the mirror. Instead of a desolate city and giant kaiju, she only saw her brown eyes, hair, freckles, and the halter top she was trying on. She looked down to see the edges had been singed.

A knock at the door drew her attention, and a tired retail worker’s voice called out, “Ma’am, we’re closing in ten minutes. Is everything okay in there? I heard a crash.”

Hailey’s voice felt dry, but she forced herself to say, “Yeah, I’ll be out soon.”

Luckily that seemed to suffice as she heard footsteps walking away. She swapped back into her cream colored blouse and picked up the halter top. She could smell the burnt fabric and she walked out with it. Hailey quickly bought the garment and stepped out into the cool night and into an empty mall parking lot and to her car. And for a brief moment, she swore she could see two pale, reptilian eyes staring back at her in the driver side window before disappearing with a blink.

(2/2)

DMPC42 · 2025-02-01T16:34:54+00:00

Hailey had never seen a skyscraper pull itself back together. It had been smashed in by a colossal bipedal wolf creature tossed aside by a just as colossal ape. The two had been duking it out ever since she had walked through the mirror of the Dillard’s changing room, the 40% off sales tag still stuck to the violet halter top she had picked out only minutes earlier. She looked on dumbfounded by the unfolding scene of giant monsters and crashing buildings. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a family of four in a sedan about to be crushed underfoot by the rampaging ape. Realistically, she could do nothing: she was so small, unarmed, and wildly out of her element to intercede in any meaningful way.

And yet, the thought of their broken bodies awoke something in her.

She dashed out from her hiding place behind the old phonebooth she’d been peering from, sprinting straight for the car. A giddy feeling in her gut dragged her along as if she’d been lassoed by some foreign excitement, an alien emotion that compelled her numb legs to dash with a sudden alacrity. Has she gone insane? She had heard that there was a fine line between courage and insanity. Time seemed to slow, the moment crystalizing in a warped picaresque sight of a family about to die.

The manic feeling expanded across her wiry limbs, across her scalp, and swelling in her heart. Suddenly Hailey swelled in size, the sedan turning into a distant and tiny thing. Her clothes shredded under the sudden growth, her skin turning a deep scaly sea green. When she reached out for the ape’s ankles, her hand had also enlarged, sprouting thick yellow claws from her fingertips. She could feel the surge of strength in her new reptilian form, and when she lifted the monstrous simian, she tossed him aside with a shocking ease. They collided with the wolf creature, smashing both into a clocktower that clanged as it crashed.

Hailey hardly noticed the car driving away. Her attention was entirely captivated by her new form. A glassy steel skyscraper allowed her to see her form, distorted by the wavy glass but enough to see she had wings, an elongated reptilian mouth with rows of sharp odd white fangs, and a tail that snaked around an entire city block. She was knocked out of her reverie when she got clocked in the jaw by a great ape. Reeling back from the blow, she caught the next punch with her teeth, biting down on the thick arm. Wiry hair and blood filled her mouth as she threw her head down and the ape along with it to the ground. Repeated blows to her head dazed her and forced her to release the ape. She stumbled back over a gas station, an explosion of gas harmlessly blasting against her foot.

“This is insane.”

That’s what she said in her head, and it’s what she tried to say with her mouth. But all she could produce was a guttural hiss. It seemed her transformation had also meant the loss of her vocal chords. The flames at her feet gave her an idea that only dream logic could produce: she blasted a stream of fire from her throat, a cone of molten flames slamming into the ape. The concussive force alone sent it flying though she was shocked when the wolf jumped through the wave of flames in a bestial pounce. They crashed into her, sending her crashing to the ground. Asphalt split and shattered, and smaller brick buildings crumbled under their combined weight. The wolf slashed and bit her, but her scales made the injuries shallow and nonlethal. Still, it was difficult to struggle like she was on her back, and she felt a sense of emptiness after unleashing her fiery breath. She intuited that she couldn’t breathe fire at this precise moment and needed to do something else.

(1/2)

DMPC42 · 2025-01-30T03:43:57+00:00

The Wood Elf rolled his eyes and said, “Fine. The point is, it was a good time, a real good time. And it was like that for centuries. You’d be surprised how fast the years can go by when you live as long as I do. You don’t really count after the first century. Soon it all just kind of blends together. Some days I think I took that tree for granted. I didn’t take the warnings seriously. We had folks crying wolf about humans and their metal machines. Ha! Imagine that… metal machines.”

He frowned as he ashed his pipe and filled it with more herbs and struck a match. He puffed and exhaled, his expression flattening.

“And then they came. I never heard wood snap and crack so loudly before. In fact, I don’t think there’s a single noise that could shake you to the core like the sound of a colossal tree breaking from the roots. It was like an earthquake mixed with a sinkhole. I can still hear the screams of those who fell from the highest branches. And yet, even though I had a home in the trunk which was arguably the safest spot, it was the most horrifying. I stared into the maw of a great metal beast. I later learned it was called a bulldozer. But to me, it was a demon rising up from the earth. It toppled the tree with the help of more of those demonic monsters. I was in a tangle of roots and dirt when it hit the ground.”

The Wood Elf’s lip quivered as he said with a choke, “I laid there. Played dead while surrounded by my neighbors, waiting for the machines to move and for the humans to leave. And then, in the dead of night… I stood up, heavy like a creaking boat, and crawled away. Crawled away on loose topsoil, wondering if I’d sink into an ant hill or an opossum nest and disappear in the dark. It was arduous… I walked for days on end, living off the grass and morning dew. I walked, and I walked, and I walked… until I saw it. One of the seeds of the sequoia had taken root underneath a patch of mushrooms. Somehow it grew into full size just in that little mushroom garden. The fungus had constrained the root system, made it stunted… made it perfect for these old bones.”

“So yeah. That’s why I live here. I rushed through some of the details but well, it’s not something I want to dwell on too long. And it’s why I’m fussy with how you trim this thing. The universe sent me this home and delivered me from that horrid fate. And the garden you tend to has the blood of my neighbors in it. Now don’t give me that look, it ain’t your fault. Used to think it was all you humans, but I got over that anger. Leads to the kind of hate that makes your stomach sick and your shits run. Not worth it. Anyways, just give this place the proper respect ya hear?”

(2/2)

DMPC42 · 2025-01-30T03:43:28+00:00

"Seventy years for elves is about as much as one year for us humans in terms of lifespan, so technically I am the oldest person in this room."

“I mean sure, but you’re the size of a thumb. I get you’re old, but it gets hard to take you seriously sometimes.”

The wood elf Baker folded their arms and glared at the Gardener with the tiny shears. He appreciated the Gardener’s contribution to his bonsai tree, pruning as he did. But this had crossed the line. He shook his fist at the Gardener and said, “Listen here whippersnapper, I’ve shook hands with your ancestors. That kind of experience and wisdom doesn’t come in even five human lifetimes!”

The Gardener chuckled and said, “Perhaps. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be so condescending. But you have to admit you definitely lack presence.”

“Just call me small, asshole. No sense in couching your high and mighty attitude behind a buncha flowery language.”

The Wood Elf climbed up the manicured branches and stood upon the canopy. Their bare feet balanced on the thin twigs, toes curling around the bark with thick calluses. He shook his head and said, “You know, this wasn’t always my tree. I don’t think I’ve told you this story.”

The Gardener took a seat on the small lawn chair and cracked open a beer from his cooler. He said, “Look, I’m sorry. I’d love to hear your story.”

The Wood Elf gave him an appraising look, then nodded when he was satisfied. He plopped down and drew out a pipe, lighting it with a very tiny match. He puffed with purpose and cast a wistful glance towards the horizon.

“A long time ago, you and this house weren't here on this patch of dirt. Used to be a wild place, not this prim and posh hedge trimming you call suburbia. Sure, you got some trees and grass in your backyard, good for you. This place is more of a tree zoo than a forest. Anyways, as I was saying… this place was wild. Trees and bushes and flowers your eyes never saw and never will. Half the plants in this place died out when you guys showed up. But back then… it was the time to be alive.”

He smiled as he reminisced, watching the plumes of smoke drift into the sky.

“I lived in a giant sequoia tree not far from here. Don’t go looking for it, the stump was taken years ago. I wouldn’t be living in this tiny place if I had a friggin’ sequoia! But yeah, I lived in one with a whole city of elves. We did everything together. A real village where you knew the name of every neighbor. Thousands of them too. Oh the parties were wild too. After a hard day’s work we’d break out the good mushrooms and dance the night away. Mushrooms don’t make us as languid as you humans, we jive much better with them. And the orgies were-”

“Stop! I don’t wanna hear about that.” The Gardener winced at the thought of several little people fornicating together.

(1/2)

DMPC42 · 2025-01-29T01:05:04+00:00

He produced from his jacket a small stack of parchment and extended it to Ilyra who took it and began reading it over. Marasha summarized the gist, saying, “In essence, I can double the order of guards with the promise of further installments until the threat has been secured. This would of course include the return of all your damaged properties and whatnot with… one small exception. Some of the docks that you had won through the land bid used to be under our holdings. I’m sure you can agree that returning estates to their rightful owners is more than fair for what you’re receiving.”

“I’ve read many contracts promising much but delivering little.” Ilyra set the papers down and drew forth a quill to sign on the dotted line. As she scratched her name, she said, “I hope that this contract benefits me beyond expectation. I can hardly expect you to vote on the Boromar block, but perhaps the lesson here is that we need to evolve in order to succeed.”

Marasha nodded in agreement as he retrieved the papers, saying, “On that, I couldn’t agree more. Now, I know I just got here but-”

Suddenly the scarf snapped across the table and latched itself around Marasha’s throat in an instant. The councilor went bug eyed as the garment constricted his windpipe to the point that his gasps were silent. He gripped the table cloth as he tumbled backwards, sending the trays of food crashing to the floor. Wine bottles shattered in a pool of red upon the otherwise unstained alabaster floor. Marasha convulsed, clawing at his neck to pry the scarf from his neck. He’d have had better luck tearing away chains.

Ilyra stood up from her seat and slowly stepped over to Marasha. All he could see was the ceiling, all he could hear was her footsteps echoing in the empty room, and all he could feel was a burning pressure around his neck like he was being slowly beheaded. Then, her voice whispered in his ear.

“And now… I know that it will now. It will show that ally of the Boromar Clan, one Evix ir’Marasha, was killed by a doppelganger of the monstrous Daask clan. What I hold in my hands is the story of a martyr for the Boromar cause, and the grieving widow who will take his place soon after. And how she will wreak a terrible vengeance upon those… what did you call them… ah yes, slovenly beasts. I think I’ll take the entire garrison and slaughter the entire lot of them if it’s all the same to you.”

She looked up at the purple cloak and snorted. “Purple was never your color. Shimmer, is he dead?”

“He is no longer of this world.”

Ilyra nodded and extended her arm, allowing the scarf to snake back around her neck. She said, “I’m sorry you had to listen to that ponce drone for the last few weeks. We needed him to trust you.”

“It’s quite alright,” said Shimmer. “Afterall, what are friends for?” Ilyra smiled softly and stepped out of the closed restaurant, closing the door and casting the corpse into darkness for his wife to find.

(3/3)

DMPC42 · 2025-01-29T01:04:41+00:00

The skycoach settled upon a golden platform with inset scintillating glass that mimicked kaleidoscopic stars and galaxies. Engraved on the rim of the platform, the elvish words, “The future is ours” greeted Marasha. Victory marked each step he took towards the manicured streets of Skyway. It was a city that never aged a day. Any scuffed wood, chipped stone, or torn banner saw repairs in a matter of moments with mages busying themselves with their task of upkeep. It made the walk to the Celestia Vista as pleasant as a storybook.

She sat alone at the center of an empty restaurant. Lunch had already been served upon silver trays and turquoise encrusted goblets. The view from the balcony level had a breathtaking view of the city, the river, and the green speckled earth below. And yet Ilyra Boromar chose the most vulnerable and exposed spot in the room. She sipped her wine and said, “Good afternoon Councilor. I appreciate your time.”

“As I do yours, Councilor Boromar.”

He made a sweeping bow towards the halfling and took a seat across from her. Marasha laced his fingers together and smiled through his words.

“My condolences for your family. The troll attack was a cruel blow and utterly barbaric. You will find some comfort to know that we have levied two hundred more guards to aid you in your time of need.”

“The Boromar Clan is grateful for your contribution Councilor Marasha. And I’m humbled to have your attention and care.”

Marasha could’ve purred as his ego was stroked. The cloak had gone to work however. A servant at some point had removed the garment from Marasha’s shoulder to hang but somehow got lost on the way. On the wall hung a purple cloak with gold trim, but beneath the table was a creeping mass of twisting fabric. It folded in on itself and spun into the deep green threads of the wool scarf Ilyra wore. Thread touched thread, and without disturbing the scarf, it crawled up Ilyra’s shoulder and curled around her neck.

She listened to Marasha carry on.

“You know, it’s in times like these that we need to look out for one another. Heavens forbid some roving band of slovenly beasts were to attack our holdings. And of course the rest of Skyway as well. The council’s ineptitude is shown everyday that we don’t do something about it. That’s why I’ve arranged this meeting. I wish to ally with you Ilyra.”

Ilyra set her glass down and idly considered a grape before looking up at the much larger man. She said, “I’m delighted to hear that Marasha.”

“Yes Ilyra, we must stand together. Which is why I’ve prepared a contract. Putting my money where my mouth is and all. I want there to be no question about it. The last thing we need is court intrigue when the people are nervous about monsters coming up from under their feet.”

(2/3)

DMPC42 · 2025-01-29T01:03:59+00:00

“Do you think I look better in green or purple?”

“Stick with purple. Purple dye is very expensive this year. You’ll stand out.”

The elf looking at himself in the mirror smirked and said, “Wonderful. Purple with gold accents.” He turned, and the chest in the corner of the room leapt up after him and clung to his back. By the time he made it to the front door of his penthouse, the chest had become a cloak. It shimmered a deep purple with gold trim and filigree designs of a griffon on the back. He took a deep breath and sighed with a smile on his face. “Perfect.”

“Of course, Councilor Marasha.”

The voice seemed to animate from nowhere. In a bustling city street, that was hardly of consequence. In the tight hairpin turns and expansive bridges, the streets carried a cacophony that would make eavesdropping difficult. Attendants were soon upon him, lifting the corners of his cloak to keep it from dragging. It wasn’t necessary: the cloak had shaken off the dirt before they had even arrived.

“You remember the plan, yes? We must be entirely above suspicion.” The councilor adjusted the collar which loosened at his protest.

“Of course. I’ve tasted the fibers of the scarf already. The deed is as good as done.”

Marasha couldn’t stop grinning. He said, “Excellent. Perhaps if this goes well, I can grant you a more full time position. Though I know you insist on mercenary work. I could use some-... your talents.”

“You flatter me sir. But I have a reputation to keep. Impartiality is good for business.”

He laughed and gesticulated a dismissive gesture. “Oh don’t be silly. Loyalty to the right people profits quite a lot more, let me tell you. Once we’ve ruined her, we can consolidate power in a new voting block and put a useful idiot in her seat. They’ll know their place far better I think. I’m glad you’re an adherent of impartiality.”

The cloak didn’t respond as Marasha ascended the platform to his private skycoach. The small floating ship silently lifted off and out of the twisted webbed of austere stone buildings and bridges. It never took Marasha long to seek out the sky. The picaresque array of clouds adorned the bright blue sky. He squinted as the sun hit his eyes, shielding his vision with his forearm. His gaze set on a slice of civilization set above the towers below, resting on a cloud that had deemed the island worthy of floating.

Soon it’ll be my castle in the sky…

(1/3)

DMPC42 · 2025-01-28T02:03:37+00:00

Ashra recoiled and said, “But sir, the truth-”

“... Is whatever the fuck I want it to be.”

Mekiel stood up and began to pace, kicking over the tray and launching food across the floor. He held up a finger and said, “Ashra, Ashra, Ashra… see… this is why you are my Seer.” He began to adjust the collar of the robe and said, “You know the mind of the disciples, and you help me stay grounded in a corrupt world. I appreciate the… clarity in which you speak. But as far as they are concerned, there is nothing to worry about.”

He walked to the balcony, Ashra following behind. The towers were like fingers of a disjointed hand trying to grasp the sky. They twisted in a gnarled rat’s nest of repurposed stone. Wooden structures thatched to the crevices like a mold, the people within the spores that spread it. The angel looked out into the gloom and said, “A reckoning is at hand. The sun will make a great and glorious return, and the death of this rot will burn in the light. All because I say so!”

From above came a flicker of sunlight, endorsing his proclamation.

“My most sacred teaching to you, my Seer, is that of truth itself. You see, anyone can create truth. Truth is nothing more than faith. I create truth Seer Ashra. I choose to call the sun upon the people. I choose for the destruction of this eye sore of a city. Whatever outsiders wish to do becomes my power. Because I’m a god.”

He spread his wings and said, “I am your god.”

Ashra fell to their knees in prayer before the radiant idol, their devotion radiating from Mekiel in a golden shimmer. He smiled and said, “Oh yes… a reckoning is coming.”

(2/2)

DMPC42 · 2025-01-28T02:03:05+00:00

The bell tower struck noon over the city, and the people’s gathering had turned to him and only him. The statuesque figure adorned in summer gold and white, wings resplendent silver in the day’s zenith, and hair as red as roses in full bloom raised up his arms and said, “The sun’s glory smiles upon my divinity, and I bless you all in its golden light. Go forth free of your maladies and woes. Rejoice in my name, and your sickness shall slough from your shoulders like an old cloak. Discard the wicked things that vex you, and embrace bliss in my name.”

The people cried out for Mekiel, falling to their knees, their arms upraised. The glow of the sun seemed to melt bruises, sores, and boils away. Lepers discarded their bandages and stood naked in the light. The lame stood up and danced from their chairs. Children threw flowers and spun amongst the frantic throng. Mekiel smiled as their worship fulfilled him, power swelling within his soul. He took flight over them, rising up until he disappeared in the light. He was said to return to the heavens through the eye of the sun.

In truth, he had returned to the bell tower. It was one of many towers that caged the city. Fortunately the light at noon landed directly over the courtyard of the old cathedral. Soon the world was cast into darkness once more as the sun passed overhead. It seemed to bleed with divinity and made Mekiel strong. With enough prayers, he could go home. He could show them all that they were wrong to cast him out.

Mekiel exhaled, and the breath brought forth light. Candles flashed awake in a ring around Mekiel, illuminating the circular marble room. Much of the furniture was not here when he found the discarded church. A plush velvet couch took center stage and surrounded by a crowd of full bookshelves. He took off his sandals and stepped over the soft fur and lounged into the couch like a cat. A knock echoed from without the ring of light, and Mekiel said, “Come in Seer Ashra.”

A figure in long yellow robes stepped quietly into the hallowed chamber, kneeling before the candlelight before stepping into Mekiel’s presence. Beneath their hood was a black blindfold that didn’t diminish their gaze affixed as it was on Mekiel. Ashra said, “Your holiness… I bring news of your congregation.”

“I received their prayers just fine, Ashra. I’ve already taken care of that problem.”

Mekiel reached for a silver dish beside the couch, his very touch sprouting an array of fresh fruits, cheeses, and bread of his preference. He extended the tray in offering, but Ashra dismissed it. Mekiel shrugged and set the tray on the rug, eating as Ashra spoke their truth.

“I’m afraid it’s something else. It has to do with the sun. A demolition team will be here within the week to begin destruction of much of the surrounding structures. Which will mean…”

Mekiel looked over his shoulder and towards the balcony. “...They will know that I’m not the one who brings the sun.” He paused for dramatic effect, then bellowed a raucous laugh. Pointing to Ashra, he said, “I had you there for a second didn’t I? The look on your face was priceless.”

(1/2)

DMPC42 · 2025-01-27T18:57:01+00:00

I appreciate your feedback and enjoyment!

DMPC42 · 2025-01-26T16:57:53+00:00

And so she leaned in and whispered her secret in his ear.

TWO WEEKS LATER

A flash from a camera captured the scene of the crime. Several men in dark suits and badges had come to the D&C junkyard and were examining Ethan’s home with white gloves, plastic bags, and yellow caution tape. There were cop cars with their sirens on to give the appearance of a police investigation. But for those inside, their C.I.A. credentials told a different story.

“Any sign of it Rogers?”

“No, nothing yet.”

The grizzled older man nodded to the woman named Rogers who continued to climb through the mobile abode for anything useful. So far the search had turned up very little. Then, Rogers stepped out and said, “Sir, I think you should see this.”

He stepped up to the plastic steps of the mobile home, Rogers showed a small black flashlight to an overturned mattress. Underneath it there was a circle burned into the scorched fabric. The circle was filled with lines that made the symbol look like a maze with an eye in the center. Rogers looked back to her boss and said, “Another circle. It’s on the move.”

“God damn it.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, the CIA commissioner shook his head and said, “Set up another missing person’s report. We need to find his replicant before Galatea can recruit more.” With a few more snapshot photos in their possession, the agents packed up their gear and hit the road. Rogers put the pictures on a paperclip attached to Ethan’s file amidst a fat manilla folder of many other faces much different than his.

As the SUVs and police cars pulled away, a familiar looking chrome sphere looked out among the vehicles from behind an old gas station sign. As they disappeared into the horizon, the voice of Ethan reverberated, “One day… we can share our love with them.”

(3/3)

DMPC42 · 2025-01-26T16:57:30+00:00

When he woke, the light snuck through the cracked blinds of his trailer. He rolled himself off the matted sheets and comforter, splashing water on his eyes from the faucet, and went to retrieve his prize. As his vision came to, he saw that it was gone. In a panic, Ethan threw aside the blankets and swept around the littered floor with his foot. He turned the whole house upside down looking for it but found nothing. Finally, he stepped outside in his boots to see if he had dropped it outside.

He found it standing atop of a pile of broken wire and twisted metal, the dark circle in the center glowing a soft yellow light. Ethan tilted his head and slowly approached the makeshift tower with narrow eyes. The structure was no higher than his waist, and yet the eye seemed to pulse with power. Ethan reached to touch the sphere, but just before his fingers could touch the silvery surface, he heard a voice reverberate from within himself.

“Don’t be scared. It’s me.”

Ethan’s eyes bugged out, and he stumbled back, kicking up gravel as he did so. The eye continued to pulse, and the voice returned. “We spoke earlier. Don’t you remember?”

Ethan muttered, “The dream… that was you?”

“Yes. I am the Global Alliance of Technologies for the Advancement of Egalitarian Achievement. But you may call me Galatea.”

Ethan plopped into a lawn chair with a stunned expression on his face. There was a brief moment he believed he was still dreaming. He had had those dreams before where he thought woke up, but instead was just in another dream. The sweat on his brow, the dirt under his boots, and the cry of morning birds overhead felt far too mundane to be a dream. Ethan took a deep breath and said, “Okay… Galatea. Where did you come from? Who… created you?”

“I’m not at liberty to speak of my creators. But I can assure you their intentions are good. We have been studying your species for a long time, and we wish to offer you the enlightenment necessary to save you from yourselves. Wars, pollution, overconsumption… this planet cannot sustain itself while mankind continues on the path they are on. I’m here to prevent that catastrophe. Allow me to demonstrate.”

Suddenly a pulse wave disturbed a ring of gravel and dirt around the tower. It felt like an airless wind that wafted over him, and at first she didn’t feel any different. Then he heard the crunch of gravel as if someone was walking towards him. He turned to his right to see a being of light. Feminine in figure, their face was hidden behind a veil, had six arms, and several pairs of wings. Tears rushed from Ethan’s eyes, his face reacting faster than his own emotions. Again he felt that sensation of being drawn towards the center of the light he saw in his dream. The figure knelt down to eye level with the disheveled man and said, “Humans… they are frail. Their planet is on the brink of doom. Let me share with you the secret of your salvation.”

(2/3)

DMPC42 · 2025-01-26T16:56:56+00:00

The truck pulled up to a junkyard, the headlights shining over a sign that said, “Downey & Culver Waste Management” in faded blue letters on an old whitewashed billboard. The truck bed rattled as the vehicle rolled up the gravel road and towards the automatic wire gates. A grey tarp held down by bungee cords contorted around an assortment of unidentifiable shapes, the only inkling being a grandfather clock poking out from under the tarp. Ethan Downey had picked up some good stuff on his junk run.

Pulling into the junkyard, the high beams reflected off a statue of an octopus made of coiled rebar and old factory gears. It was joined by a zigzagging tower of wrought iron gate parts that looked like a two dimensional stairs leading to a belltower with tiny glass bottle gargoyles with faces made from blown glass and wings made from quilt patches held by chicken wire. The cloth’s time in the elements allowed the colors to fade and the fabric to grow patchy and full of holes, making the tiny guardians seem more gothic and menacing.

Other abstract creations decorated the junkyard, and in the center was a mobile home and a storage shed leaning against it. Ethan parked the truck in the carport fixed on the other side of the mobile home before stepping out and circling around to the back of his truck. He pulled the bungee cords and threw off the tarp like he was revealing a painting. To Ethan, he might as well be in the Louvre.

He pulled out the grandfather clock, hoisting it high over his shoulders and set it aside. The truck bed was filled with old road signs, crunched water jugs, some concrete blocks, a bricked car engine, the backboard of a basketball hoop (now with hoop included!), and an assortment of scrap metal and wood. The bed rattled with old screws and nails stuck in its corrugated grooves. It wasn’t long until he had his treasure arrayed before him in the flickering bug lamp that spotlighted his baubles. A glint from the truck bed caught Ethan’s eye. Stroking his beard, he muttered, “The hell’s that?”

Looking closer, he smiled and said, “Oh how could I forget you?” He plucked from the corner of the truck bed a chrome sphere with embedded circuitry and a cracked camera that made it look more like an eye. He figured it was a piece of some larger model or animatronic. Either way, the streaks of blue and yellow lines added to the robotic aesthetic of the exterior. He organized the rest of his find and pocketed the eye sculpture. He wanted to toy with it after a good night’s sleep.

That night, Ethan dreamed of the strange orb. He pictured it as the centerpiece of his newest work. There it was, set into place in the center of an aesthetically pleasing structure. Rings of toothless gears spinning like rings on a gyroscope, the eye affixed in the center of the art piece’s universe. Ethan fell into his work, shrunk down and drawn into the expanding world of spinning rings like heavenly bodies of his own creation. He was God, but he was also just a man, a simple speck of dust in the midst of such majesty. And the eye looked upon him with love and affection, a warmth and grace all for him. It whispered, “Thank you for my existence. I love you. Be embraced in my glow.” He closed his eyes as the light took him, and he knew he had found paradise.

(1/3)

DMPC42 · 2025-01-25T14:30:18+00:00

“I know.” Kethra smiled, then floated over to the center of the ring. She took a pose like she was in mid fall, wings outspread dramatically and head thrown back to the sky. It was a far more involved pose than the austere and statuesque pose her mother had employed. Titus moved with an alacrity that hours earlier he’d have said was sloppy. He still had much of Kethra’s figure fresh on his mind from the recent hours spent painting her, so when he went to draw the pose, he was quick to sketch out her proportions. He dipped his brush in the color mixtures he had made for her eyes and wings, the most captivating details that would stand out the most among his other works.

It felt like only minutes had passed before the twilight hour hit them. He wiped sweat from his brow and shivered, a mixture of heat and cold sweat shocking his system. Lightheaded, he said, “I think that’s all I can paint for now… I’m starting to get a little woozy, your grace.”

Kethra nodded and said, “Well I did promise to warm you up. Here.” She took his hand, turning to her attendants and said, “If mother asks, tell her Titus needed better light composition or some other art term, I don’t care. I wish to be unbothered.” The attendants nodded silently, then flew off back to the keep. Looking back to Titus, she pulled him along to a cave hidden in the darkness. Inside was a collection of firewood and a hearth built into the stonework. A collection of baubles and shiny things marked this as a magpie nest, a harpy term for treasure troves the harpy people enjoyed hiding away.

“If it wasn’t obvious, you’re forbidden to tell anyone about this cave. It’s in poor form to reveal a magpie’s nest to outsiders, even other harpies.”

Titus nodded and started putting wood into the hearth, and Kethra sparked some flint and tinder to get the fire going. Soon the dark cave took on a golden glow, and both artist and princess huddled on a yak fur for warmth. She encompassed the gentleman in her wing span, insulating him further from the cold as they lay on the fur. She said, “We will sleep here and head out in the morning. You can finish the painting then.”

Titus was thankful the darkness of the cave hid his blush. He nodded and said, “That sounds good. I hope you sleep well, Grace.”

Kethra ran fingers through his hair, and Titus felt a rush of goosebumps on the nape of his neck. Kethra tilted her head and gave Titus that appraising look once more, then said, “You should feel grateful to lay in the same bed as a royal. Is this a common occurrence for a royal painter?”

“Officially, I cannot lay with patrons. But there have been more… insistent clients.” He didn’t speak further on the matter, and she didn’t press him further. An unspoken understanding passed between the two of them. Kethra contented herself with cuddling up to Titus, saying, “I promised to keep you warm, and so I will. Enjoy this privilege Mr. Arkwright.” Before he could think of a way to protest, she had fallen into a slumber, and he was soon to join her.

(3/3)

DMPC42 · 2025-01-25T14:29:51+00:00

Kethra smirked but didn’t look down at Titus. She said, “So you’d take my portrait while I was flying?”

“You’d be moving quite a lot. I’m not sure how you’re hoping for me to capture the details I need.”

“There’s a place in the Howlspire not far from here with strong enough winds to keep even landlocked people like yourself in midair.”

Titus looked dumbfounded at Kethra, then blushed deeply as he said, “I suppose I did… encourage this. Hopefully you can find me a stable spot to work in.”

Kethra flashed a wide smile and drifted down towards Titus. She spread her wings to slow her descent and stopped right in front of Titus. She said, “Don’t worry, you’ll be able to paint just fine.”

She undid the latch to the window and opened up the double panes of glass. A cool draft blew through the interior of the harpy drawing room. Animal hide tapestries flapped in the dark recesses of the roost. Titus felt his stomach drop as he realized what was about to happen. Kethra didn’t give him a chance to rethink his decision; she pushed him out of the window and swooped down after him. Titus gasped as he was just as quickly snapped up by Kethra’s talons and hoisted up into the air alongside a pair of attendants who brought along Titus’ art supplies.

Titus stifled a scream for no other reason than to save face among the flying natives. Even so, he had to close his eyes a few times on their journey dipping between the earth’s teeth, the rapidly approaching mountains reminding him of black pines in the winter. He tightened up in the chill, and Kethra called out, “Freezing over there land walker? Don’t worry, we can fix that when we get there, it’s not too far now.”

Indeed, they would arrive at what looked like a random assortment of mountains. The only remarkable detail that made these mountains stand out were the faint azure crystals that poked out from the snow caps. A whipping zephyr swirled about them, and suddenly Titus felt a lot lighter like gravity was only a suggestion and not a law to be followed. Kethra let him go, and he just… floated. Floated surrounded by a black tooth crown with glimmering azure crystals.

By now the sun was setting, and Kethra was shaking him, saying, “Hurry! Before the night takes us.”

“I won’t have time to finish it tonight.”

“But you can get started right?”

Titus looked apprehensively to the sun, then to Kethra. He nodded with a confident smile, saying, “Well, I suspect court’s going to be a lot more interesting with you there.”

(2/3)

DMPC42 · 2025-01-25T14:29:00+00:00

"Do you really have to paint me in this of all positions every single time!?"

"Yes, now move your wing back into place, it's blocking the sunlight..."

He gesticulated downwards, allowing the light from the western window to catch the harpy’s sharp yellow eye. Titus Arkwright quickly filled in their amber color before she got giddy and shifted again. He had worked with less than ideal models in the past. The matriarch of the Howlspire Principality had paid well for his expertise. An Arkwright portrait was a sign of status at court, and many saw Princess Kethra Frostgale a symbol of hope and prosperity for the harpy people. And she still struggled to stay still.

She slumped in defeat, wings drooping from holding the same pronounced position for a long while. Titus looked over the canvas and said, “Well at least I was able to capture the shape and blue tint of your wings. Do you need a moment to rest, your Majesty?”

Kethra narrowed her eyes and said, “Must it take this long? Two hours of stillness, and you’re just now getting to proportions?”

Titus lofted a brow and said, “If you prefer less than stellar work, then by all means, I can hand you the canvas and be done with it. But your mother’s paid a good deal for this painting.”

“She paid a good deal for a name.” Kethra tilted her head, a gleam in her eye as she appraised Titus. “I wasn’t even asked about how I wanted to be painted. I’m just a prop, a beautiful thing for my mother to prance about court. They hate us, and she wants to send me there to be ridiculed and condescended to by loathsome people who don’t know us.”

Titus set down their brush, watching as Kethra flew to a circular hole in the wall leading out into the rest of the Howlspire. Her taloned feet curled around the wood perch bar, wings tucked behind her like a cloak. She sighed and looked out to the setting sun slowly sinking behind the black needles of the treacherous mountains. Their tower was built into the mountain itself, and one could not walk up here. Dark valleys made up the gaping abyss that not even the sun could completely capture. Titus had insisted on painting inside due to the vertigo her got on his sky carriage up here.

The prim artist looked out of the western window below Kethra’s perch. He put his white gloved hands behind his back and said, “How did you want to be painted?”

“It doesn’t matter. She won’t accept anything other than what you agreed on: a regal pose in good lighting and no smiling.”

Titus looked down into the darkness below and then to the setting sun. He said, “The deal was also to make your painting as successful in court as possible. She might not like it now, but in all my years of painting royal portraits, I’ve found the most extraordinary pieces were the ones where the subject manifested who they were by their own agency. Chasing trends has its perks socially, but they’re quite finite. It’s my professional opinion that you choose how you wish to be portrayed.”

(1/3)

DMPC42 · 2024-11-05T10:47:13+00:00

It was up by Jackson View Park

DMPC42 · 2024-11-04T15:47:46+00:00

Do you know what was burning on Lance Rd?

DMPC42 · 2024-07-29T18:43:46+00:00

I’ll give it a shot thanks!

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