One day in a place called Ireland, a person named Michael thought of going on an adventure into the Ireland countryside. He woke up groggy and totally unrefreshed, but the smells of fresh air and grasses, helped him realize that it was time to seize the day. So he bounced up out of his soft silk hotel bed, and landed on the hard carpet floor. This wasn’t the first time that he had over corrected a wake up. The hard floor was pressed against his face and it made him just remember how good the bed felt. Of course he didn’t stay there long, for the scratchiness of the floor was painful on the face.
He gotten dressed quickly. The attire that he had chosen just screamed that he was a foreigner. For one it looked like he had dressed to go to Alaska. The near parka attire was sure to catch an eye or two and when he looked in the mirror he had realized this. So back to the drawing board he said to himself, and off he went to loot the dressers for all they were worth. It took him a few tries to find the right fit for this day, but then he found the one. Blue jeans, tennis shoes, short sleeve iron maiden shirt, and a tropical style over shirt T, was never a bad choice he thought.
Heading out of the hotel, he was stopped by the receptionist. Now that I think of it, it was more like greeted but it did put a halt in his prance out. The receptionist just told him that if he would like, they were having breakfast in the atrium. As he slowed his walk, he replied “no thank you” and “have a good one”, then off he went through the door. He was over joyed with himself that he had gotten a hotel that was on the outskirts of town, more of one of those realization kind of things. You see to him it’s the little things that get him excited, and leave him happy with the day. Anyway off he went through the countryside, walking the dirt roads, listening to the sheep baa, when he could hear it. The sounds of crashing water against rock.
He went to the ocean side. Gulls could be heard overhead, the sound of waves crashing against the water top and the shore could be heard over and over, and the sound of an engine that he just now started to notice and slowly started to turn his head in amazement. He lunged out of the way, or at least that’s what he thought as it was an act of pure instinct, for he couldn’t have had time to actually see a full car just a blur of red tint out of the corner of his eye was enough to dodge toward the Cliffside.
Michael regained consciousness, but didn’t open his eyes right away. He did smell a rather peculiar smell for this type of region though. It was no longer a smell of salty air from the ocean or fresh clean grass from the countryside, but a thick, kind of sweet smell. He slowly opened his eyes to find, at his amazement, he was no longer on the beach side. He found himself in the middle of a dense jungle. How could I have gotten here he thought to himself, and without warning a voice responded with “I don’t know figure it out”. Now he was used to talking to himself in his mind, but it was more of listing things to himself, not mindlessly responding as if possessed by another person.
Michael talked out loud this time, “who are you” he said. “I’m you dummy”, the voice replied. Michael didn’t try to challenge the voice, for he didn’t believe him entirely. He kind of felt this connection to the voice but still he kept it distant for now. In his mind a name appeared. Harold is his name and pleasure is his game. Michael looked puzzled. Harold responded, “sounds cool doesn’t it, I made it up myself”. Michael tried to ignore Harold, for sane people don’t talk to their selves and people who answer themselves and want to rip the beings hair out that they had in their mind, kind of threw a red flag for crazy, and Michael sure wasn’t crazy.
Michael decided that this was enough chatter with Harold and got up off of the damp mossy ground. A weird fog was starting to roll in from all sides. This fog engulfed Michael. At first the fog made Michael uneasy, because of how fast it rolled in, but at the same time it made him very relaxed of the moist smell in the air. There was a peculiar feel about the fog, almost a sort of comforting feel. It’s kind of like the feeling you get when you pull the blanket over yourself at night to go to bed and get that warm comforting feeling, minus the massive heat of course. “Move” said Harold in a panic, “They are nearly upon us, and you don’t want to know what will happen when they catch us”, but Michael is still ignoring Harold at this point. Just then a faint constant medium pitch whistle can be heard, slowly intensifying. A small light in the distance starts toward Michael. This light was about the size of a dime, no bigger. Michael stared at the light in curiosity, for he never seen anything like it. It had a bluish hue and floated effortlessly, not zipping or moving franticly but slowly and steadily approaching until it just stopped about 10 feet away from him. Harold berated Michael, cussed him and tried to get Michael to run, but it was no use, curiosity got the better of him and Michael rarely listens to himself.
Just then more lights started to roll in out of the fog. One by one lights started popping up in front of Michael. He tries to go forward but his legs will not let him, almost as if even his body knows better. He finally overrides his body and takes a step forward, but right as that foot touches the ground the first light “ignites”. No longer a blue ball of light at the head of 50, it is now a red flaming orb and one by one they all turn. The step Michael took is quickly withdrawn, and just before he turned around the flaming orb hurled at him. Michael ducked real quick and it hit the tree behind him, instantly igniting it. “I tried to tell you dummy” Harold said in an “I told you so” kind of voice.
Michael bolted through the fog, orbs were appearing left and right and as soon as they appear they go hurling toward them. Not all of the orbs that were coming after them were red like the first. Some turned purple and had a crackling sound as they hit the environment. Bolts of white light could be seen from the areas that these hit but no real physical damage could be seen to the areas of impact.
Michael dodged left and right through the dense trees. He jumped over and slid under many, the best he could through the dense fog, but it was no use. He came to a dead end at a cliff wall. As soon as he stopped he felt many dart like things pierce his back. He arched backward and as soon as he did pulses of electricity and white light filled the area around him. The last thing he saw before he hit the ground and the white light cleared was an oblong figure walking towards him. The area turned a hazy black then was dark.
“You should have listened to me. Ooh you should have listened to me.” The voice said over and over. He felt a hand slap his face and he awoke in a black abyss. No light could be seen besides a slight aura around himself. “How can you be so stupid?” said the voice “one bit of light and you’re in shock and awe.” Michael didn’t know what to say so he sat there quietly. “So what cat got your tongue?” the voice taunted again, looking for some kind of response from Michael, but fear would provide none. “LISTEN TO ME!” the voice exclaimed. Just then Michael was smacked across the face again. “What do you want from me?!” Michael asked in a sort of whiney tone. “Ah finally some interaction.”
To be continued…
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