《Ideasthesia》Volume 2 ❀ Prologue: Under The Quiet Moon ~ Fantastic Digital Star
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Inside a dark room, even the ticking of a small table clock had a relaxed feeling, as if it was a heartbeat at rest. However, at the same time, it was like a place out of time, a place to rest without consequence. The darkness in that way was a sanctuary, a place to recharge and forget the things the world said had to be done.
A silhouette swayed and moved in front of the only piece of furniture, or so to say, that brought some light.
Reaching for the bedside table where the clock was located, a hand reached what seemed to be a bag of gummi bears. Colourfully spread under the closed room, the only one that laid in complete and utter solitude were the green ones, probably meaning that the silhouette had something against apple flavoured food.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
Furious sounds could be heard coming from their fingers hitting the keyboard while some long, black hair fell and laid stranded not bothering them at all.
Rolling the mouse wheel, it was pretty obvious as of now that what was causing the light was a computer screen, which seemed to be high tier. Covered in white, it made a huge contrast against the gloomy atmosphere.
The shadowy figure moved backwards, their rolling chair reaching in a quaint manner the curtains against the window. Gracefully, sliding their fingers onto the fabric, they opened it up to reveal a starry sky. The moon observed their every action, caramel coloured eyes shining in their reflection.
Sighing, the went back to work. What had them so invested and on edge?
"I'm sick of these internet... whatchamacallit? Trolls? I dunno, but they are a bloody hell of a nuisance to deal with. I can't just delete their comments because that would mean I'm giving them what they want, but at the same time if I make a witty response it might escalate and the least I need right now is something to damage my reputation! I need to think of witty responses for these nitpicking demons."
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Yet everything they wrote amounted to nothing.
"This is so frustrating, hmph!"
They spun on their chair, going round and round.
"Magical girls do exist, you dipshit!"
And it went on and on until they ran out of fuel.
Closing their eyes, they took another gummi bear that wasn't apple flavoured and munched it slowly, savouring its artificial taste.
"Sleeping is the best answer to all of this."
If they could even do so in the first place given their current state of affairs. Yet, as of now, we won't delve about them too much.
They constantly dreamed of the same place. They only knew that it was dark, a place where the darkness reigned. The light was slowly blossoming with the dew of the night, and nothing made sense, except when they woke up because, when they did, the coldness and loneliness enveloped them.
Always alone inside that cooped up world, hence why some fantasy had to be made to spice things up, don't you think?
They straightened up in bed, rubbing their right eye gently; then the left one. A yawn that seemed a whisper escaped their lips, stinging after finishing. The sheets felt harsh, the pure cream colour irritated their retinas no matter how much the curtains covered the quiet moon.
"I guess this sleepless night calls for this digital beauty to make it all sparkly."
And thus, the clock's hand ticked 3 AM.
The hour where they opened up the window without hesitation, sprinting right out of bed, and jumping from a twelve-floor building, while a peculiar glint of light emanated from their chest. However, unbeknownst to them, The Observer had finally found the last piece of a puzzle they had been pursuing for at least a month.
"That took quite some time, Star." They whispered under the moonlight, atop of another far-off building. "Definitely a suiting codename instead of calling you by a number."
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"Right? Right? Wasn't it pure genius?"
A high pitched voice could be heard.
The silent moon that extends into the starry sky reflects despair dyed with crimson. Red eyes as the same blood that flows inside every human body shimmered in anticipation. Blonde hair swaying from the sudden breeze that hastily blew giving an overdramatic effect, while two symmetric strands were bright pink.
The Observer was examining the mysterious girl who had appeared from top to bottom, just like a newly discovered specimen. A faint laugh escaped their mouth and the Earth spun again.
"What brings you here tonight, Spring? I remember you openly exclaiming about not seeing this spectacle today. Well, more than boasting it was irritating yells."
"I was bored!" The girl jumped right next to The Observer, sitting on the border between life and a certain 10 meters fall. "Although I betcha it's gonna be the same thing today! I think the only redeeming quality of Star is the nickname I gave her!"
"Which is quite original."
"Are you making fun of me because I can never tell when you're being sarcastic." Her black dress fluttered while she stood up with both arms extended on both sides of her body, just like a T. "I'm looking forward to what stupid things Star will do!"
A soft giggle blended into the night, a smile tinged with evil, corruptness and incapable of feeling pity towards others.
"Looking forward to the amusing feedback of tonight's pictures on your blog, Star."
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Just off the A19, in the dark, incomprehensible lands known as Yorkshire, there lies a town. A town where shadow-silent alleys glint with the secret hunger of knives. Where blood soaks the chipboard window shutters of forsaken terraces stretching off into the night. Where the smog-choked air rattles with the depraved laughter echoing out from clubs that can only generously be described as post-apocalyptic. Well, that’s Middlesbrough. But down the A19 a bit (an impossibly long way down, actually) there lies another town: Raughnen, in the ancient, forgotten Old Riding. It is an equal match in muggery and thuggery alike. It also has magic spells and pointy wizard hats. And now, across the miles and across all sensibilities, a pretty nasty power (a magic one) calls out for its pretty nasty counterpart (a decidedly unmagic one): a proper sound Boro lad. Nothing good can come of it. This is a collection of one novella and four connected short stories: I. A Yorkshire Summoning II. Old Riding Day Trip (the novella) III. Heaven is a Parmo IV. Death on the 66 V. Death on the 257 In total, this comprises 34 chapters totalling around 35,000 words, so try not to worry. It will be over relatively quickly. There are three more short stories with more tenuous links to the core collection: Rush, Paper Round and Scenario 79: Sausage Fingers, all of which can be found in my collection Short Records of Misadventure. Reading these may allow you to make more sense of certain parts of the story, if any sense is to be made at all. NOTE: There are instances of prejudice and discrimination within these stories, including elements of sexism and ageism, which are purely the thoughts and actions of the characters involved and which certainly do not reflect my own views on these matters. ANOTHER NOTE; A WARNING, PERHAPS: This can get a bit weird. In less than 150 pages, we have four viewpoints, first and third person narratives, and a completely disjointed plot with lots of gaps, dead ends and no real resolution. Also ZERO lunatic asylums. It's all a bit odd. If that sort of thing isn't your cup of tea, which it most likely isn't, it might be best to move on now.
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