Swatch – fantasy excerpt – part 1

He looked out over the ocean, not knowing he’d never see this view again.

Boy liked this tower, a lot more than the other ones. He’d learned early on which were the nicest ones, which had the best views, which ones Master tended not to frequent. Not that he was a bad Master, not at all, but sometimes one needed a bit of space, is all, and why not have a space that had a grand view?

Still, there was having space, and there was shirking chores, and the line between the two was a constantly moving thing, depending on the Master’s mood. Dusting off his robe, he made his way to the door.

He was proud of himself for nary having to glance at the sigils he’d put above the doorways in colored chalk, drawn when he was still new to the towers, to the Master. He could walk and not even think about getting back from Seaside, skirting the door the led to Castle Wastewood (foolish name, he thought), nary a glance at the door to Summerdown (no matter how much he’d like to pass through that one), and hardly a shudder at that door, the one with the skull over it. He rubbed his left arm in sympathy, glad again that you could only pass through a door if you had come out of it in the first place.

Wandering body and mind, he thought. Master’ll have one of his bug-eyed fits, he will.

He stopped in front of a large, oak door, handle so high he had to stand on tips to reach it. Master never did say why that’s is, Boy thought, then shook his head. He needed to concentrate soon, and better to get in the habit now then when it’s too late.

He pushed open the door… to find the Master standing on the other side, looking straight at him.

“Too late,” he said, softly.


Another one of those days

I can tell it’s going to be another one of those days…

You know when you close your eyes, and you can tell if there are walls around you or if it’s open and empty, or if there’s someone in the room with you? Have you ever closed your eyes and had your other senses tell you something totally different than what your eyes tell you?

When I close my eyes, I can sense them all around me.

I thought I could kind of see them last night, driving past an old abandoned building, peeking out of the broken windows at me. It’s like they were taunting me to come and see the old place, knowing that I’d never been there before, that noone ever thinks about it any more, like they knew that if I looked inside the windows I’d see that there was nothing behind it, just empty, raw, unfinished universe. I so wanted to stop and run at them, and look. I wanted to see what I would see.

Most of the time it’s just a warehouse. One of these times it won’t be.

I know God knows about me now. It’s him who’s taunting me like this. I know he doesn’t want a friend now. He’s scared of me, but there’s nothing he can do about it, because I can think of me more than he can. I don’t pray to him, he doesn’t know me, or what I want. I keep my thoughts of me to myself, and make myself solid. He can’t do anything to me, I won’t believe in it.


There are times, sometimes, when I either don’t get enough of some vital nutrient, or possibly too much, where I start to question everything. Not just why I continue to go to my dead-end job every day, but question BIG things, like reality.

How much of this is simply contrived? I know, I KNOW, that a lot of what we consider to be reality is simply everybody milling around like sheep, following the footsteps we left the day before, going about our daily business the same as we always have. There’s a sameness to it all, with just little tiny steps forward, if you can call it forward. Teeny tiny little steps that lets all the little minds adjust slowly, like playing outside when you were a kid and not noticing that it was getting darker and darker around you. All of humanity just mills about while the world just gets dimmer and things get slower.

I SO want to break out of that.

It’s funny, too, because invariably when I think these things the miasma reaches up to try desperately to pull me back down. It’s like it doesn’t want me to think about it, like it’s too hard. I get this wave of tiredness like I should just stop thinking like this, but sometimes I can fight it. My mind fills with all these images of just throwing off all these mental shackles, to shrug off this group reality and do something DIFFERENT. I don’t mean little different, either, like go to Tim Horton’s for breakfast instead of Dunkin Donuts, I mean DIFFERENT like take over the planet. Honestly, sometimes I feel like I could just stand up and say “That’s it, now it’s my way”, and somehow, like using the Voice from Dune, people would just start doing things my way. I could rule this shitty little mudball so much BETTER than the people currently doing it. It’s not just that, either. I don’t want to be President or Emperor or something, I want to change reality. I want to… I don’t know. Reinvent everything. CHANGE everything, at the atomic level. I just want to spread my mind out and take everything in, and once I have it all in my head, reality would be MINE. All I have to do is KNOW everything, not just facts, but people, animals, objects, everything, about everything, and then I could just think differently about it, and it would change.

Maybe that’s what God is. Maybe that’s what he does. Maybe God is just some guy like me who finally managed to think everything. Maybe he’s thinking me right now, thinking about him. Maybe he’s lonely, and wants a friend. Maybe he wants to lay down everything, to clear his mind.

Or, maybe, he’s jealous of me. Maybe he’s scared I’ll take over. Maybe he’s the one that makes me so tired when I think this way. Maybe, if I think of him, more than he thinks of me, I can take his place.

Maybe then I can get to be God.