For someone who’s about to be
murdered I am quite calm and have my emotions in check. I suppose it’s the
quiet before the storm, and it’s almost euphoric. My mind is open, my thoughts
are clear, and I don’t feel an ounce of panic. Perhaps when the jig is up
there’s no point to stress; after all death is only the beginning, right?
Beginning of what? Who the fuck knows, and frankly, I’m not about to pussy out
and let it happen. Not every death has a Hollywood ending, and knowing my luck,
I’m gonna end up a deaf, mute and blind ghost, floating around aimlessly for
all eternity. If only I could gain an advantage in this deadly game of
hide-and-seek.
As it goes now, my computer
savvy opponent has the edge. I fucking read books and write. How the hell am I
supposed to outsmart a madman with technology on his side? You’d believe with
my peaceful, tranquil mind I could think outside the box and devise an utterly
brilliant and genius plan; but my brain isn’t programmed for this reality. I’m
a straight nerd who wants to live in an alternate world of dragons and unicorns
and fucking pixy dust. In order to live I must find a world whose chaos makes
sense to me, and where digital technology is obsolete. A place where I can
sufficiently disguise myself and flip the tables on the bastard tracking me…
Well, lo and behold, this
alternate world does exist, hidden beneath us on the flip side. In layman
terms, it’s an upside down reality hidden below the deep trenches of the ocean,
floating inconspicuously beneath the contemporary world. It’s a place of
adventure, lifelong rivalries, crude lifestyles, and of course magic;
essentially everything that compliments an 18th century fiction
epic. Outwardly normal individuals are
exaggerated into unrecognizable, highly exotic and to a certain degree,
barbaric characters, and the environment is fraught with mystery and raw
excitement. It’s a place of the past. And
despite its seemingly primitive attributes, this underworld is not made for the
faint of heart. Timid souls or unbelievers or those too weak minded and wimpy
for a life of survival are quickly weeded out and devoured whole, never to be
heard from again.
Considering this, I need to
find a guide to cover my fragile-ass. I may be stubborn, strong-willed and
smart with a flair for the dramatic, but brute strength and the ability to
survive mortal combat are talents I seriously lack. Besides, how the hell am I
going to travel safely, metamorphose into some badass yet inconspicuous character
and kill whoever is hunting me in an unknown and uncharted world? Without a
Jedi master or fucking Bruce Willis I’ll have my throat slit in a matter of
seconds. Thank goodness I’m strange and awkward and attract special characters.
I grin at this realization and turn to greet my good friend, the pirate…
And in that instant my heart is
warmed and my strength is fortified. My pirate can certainly protect me and
lead me unscathed into the dangers of the alternate world. He’s not too bad to
look at either with his Jack Sparrow charm and rugged cowboy confidence. I’ve got a legit, swashbuckling man’s man
that can light the way and keep evil at bay. So without any further ado, I grab
his hand and practically skip to the underworld portal, which is conveniently
at a neighbor’s pool down the street.
At first glance the gateway to
my new destiny appears just like any other pool; the chlorinated water sparkles
in a light blue from the bright sun, and the waves from the light breeze gently
lap against the concrete rim. Everything is as it should be in a normal world,
but I know that hidden below the surface is a rabbit-hole of unlimited
possibility. So with all the strength my 105 lb. body can muster, I dive into
the pool’s deepest depths and watch in awe as my pirate unhinges a secret door
to reveal a truly breathtaking underwater cavern.
It takes me a moment to breath
it all in and gather my wits about me to cross the gigantic threshold; the
walls of which expand outward in hundreds of feet and have gargantuan
stalactites spiraling down into the darkness, making me feel like I’m swimming
into the giant jowls of a flesh-eating snake. But time is life, and in the next
instant I begin my journey into the unknown with just the clothes on my back
and my resolve to keep me sane. It’s the making of a truly epic adventure, but
shit rolls down hill and I’m at the bottom of a very steep mountain…
When I finally emerge in the
alternate reality I find myself balls-deep in the muck and grime of a filthy
colonial port. I helplessly bob within the frothy water desperately trying to
evade the waves of slime washing against my haggard faced. Because haggard I
am. All my strength is gone. I’m exhausted and physically weak and literally am
pulled from the ocean like a drowned rat and unceremoniously disposed of on the
deck of my pirate’s small, yet noble, vessel.
I guess the best strategy to
survive is to head out to sea, which I’m all for, especially because my company
has improved since the recent time-warp. Standing before me on the prow of the
ship is my pirate, i.e., the essence of my once human friend who is now an
awesomely massive, brown, hairy beast with sharp fangs and an abnormally long
snout. Think of a werewolf and the Beast from Beauty and the Beast merged into
one ferocious, unapologetic pirate. Thank goodness! I clearly need all the help
I can get, and that’s not even the half of it.
I, sadly, did not fare so well
with the whole transformation character thing. In fact, I didn’t transform at
all. (And how the hell am I supposed too without knowing what the fuck to do?)
Because I’m such a newbie, my real self and inferior-self ended up as two
different entities, twins in fact. In other words, rather than morphing into
some badass Zena the Warrior Bitch, I instead created a perfectly matching set
of me’s. Let’s just hope that two of me can outsmart a crazed ax-murderer,
because the blonde, white and endowed me’s clearly have no hope of appearing
inconspicuous or blending in. But the charade is on and I must fake it like the
best of ‘em and formulate some kind of 007 plan that will catch my pursuer off
guard so I can off him. So naturally we split up and settle in for the inevitable.
My first half remains on deck
with my guardian pirate, while my second self finds refuge in a cramped waiting
station on the loading dock. And now all that’s left to do is wait; the
unavoidable quiet before the storm of me being decapitated, bleed-out,
strangled, shot, stabbed, etc. Or maybe not; maybe I will be victorious and
prance over the dead body of my assailant. But for now, half of me looks out over the
prow of the vessel, her hair blowing in the cool wind with Jack the Beast
Sparrow by her side, while the other half crouches in a dingy, smelly, tiny
docking office.
Thankfully the wait to my
potential end isn’t long, and the tense, empty moments before my death won’t be
drawn out into hours of anxiety. Like clock-work my hunter appears as soon as
my two selves settle into position, creeping slowly from the dock shadows onto
the pirate vessel; his beady eyes intent on his next kill. There’s a thin film
of sweat on his white bald head, and his black suit is stark against the bright
afternoon, giving him an air of self-righteousness that curdles my blood. I
don’t deserve to die! And why is it up to him if I should!? He’s nothing but a
demonic, evil assassin with a heart of lead and a soul of coal. And frankly, he
must be completely stupid if he thinks he can sneak up on me. Does he really
I’d be so dumb to stare blindly toward the horizon without covering my
backside? ...
BANG!!!!!!!!!
The gunshot echoes across the
harbor, and I spin to face my killer and watch as the blood falls like a red
curtain down his visage, soaking into the whites of his astonished eyes. He
stares back at me, and I catch a hint of uncontrollable anger in the depths of
his dying eyes, and I can’t help but feel elated as I watch his life slip away
into the void of nothingness. Ha! The bastard was shot clean through, and as he
finally crumbles to the ground my two selves face one another, both with a
devilish smirk on their lips. My seagoing self was simply the bait, while my
cleverly hidden self was the executioner.
We stand for a moment grinning at each other, and then my second self
drops the smoking gun and turns toward the dock with a look of determination,
and like a poetic Western we walk off into the horizon, hand-in-hand, to
conquer what lies ahead. Because we’re definitely a beacon for trouble, or at
least I am.
TO BE CONTINUED…
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