* Dead on Arrival

*

I was running as fast as I could across loose sand. Moving at a truly unnatural speed. It was beyond anything I could ever accomplish, but I was doing it. 

And as I did it, I could feel that my body was weak. My flesh was pockmarked by acid, clothes burned to tatters—but it didn't matter. I had a goal, no, a purpose.

Cutting through mist—no, fog—I could see the huge form stalking in the distance. It was a grim spectre whose eyes flared with malicious intent.

The shadow shifted, like the flash of lightning before the thunder, as a massive jaw clamped around my torso. Teeth punctured me, and I tried to scream. I could feel my life pouring down my hips.

“Gah-ah!” I managed to exhale as I was tossed through the air like a rag doll.

I was flying. No. I was falling. Gravity had taken over, pulling me down towards the serrated maw.

Teeth chattered hungrily within jaws that snapped and cracked, opening beyond their range as I tumbled down. Down towards its hungry gullet.

“I’m sorry…” A voice cut through the chaos, piercing my mind. It was an unfamiliar voice, but strangely soothing. I wanted to trust it. 

Then, in the distance, through the fog, a point of light came into focus before an arrow cut through the air, aimed at my heart.

---

“Tyuh!” I gasped, startling myself awake.

Adjusting my head, I slid an arm down and grabbed at my shirt. My heart was racing as it always was when I awoke from a dream. It thudded forcefully against my chest, rattling the cage that kept it from leaping forth into the world in a horrid display.

“Just another nightmare—” I whispered to myself, taking a deep breath and raising my head. “Fug, I hate dreams. They're so stupid. I could never have one again, and it would still be too soon.”

My name’s Tahvin Echebarriscoa. I thought, separating myself from the fictional being I had just embodied. I'm thirty-five, unemployed, alone, and, currently, hunched over the keyboard of my computer. Okay, maybe I didn't need to think all that...

At some point in the early morning hours, I had fallen asleep at my desk. While, frankly, not ideal, it was my life. When I wasn’t in a state of depressive hibernation, my fingers clacked across keys like machine gun fire, typing away at the latest story chapter. There was nothing I wanted more in life than to finish the next chapter. It was the same last week. And the week before that. A sad, lonely life.

I glanced up at the dusty picture frame on the dresser. The one I kept face down so I didn't have to see her. See the happiness in both our eyes and be reminded of times when I wanted something other than writing. Times when I wasn't alone. When she was still—

Shaking my head, I thought of the story once more. Esseria. My world. A dying world. A culmination of years of planning that was coming to a climactic peak with the eternal lich, Phyllis, channelling the last of her energy into summoning a hero to complete her goal of raising a long-dead God. The coming final battle between evil and lesser evil. A make-or-break, winner-take-all fight that would leave the fate of this burnt and scarred world to the victor.

Vrt, vrt— My phone buzzed, alerting me to a message.

Glancing at the screen, I ignored the text and instead looked at the time.

Nine-forty?! I thought to myself. Crap! I lost a lot of time.

Though the time I lost was of no importance to anyone. No one thought of me. My family was gone long ago. And she...she wasn't around anymore to care. I wasn’t famous or talented. No fans or friends, no one trying to mooch off me or ride my coattails. But I wasn't trying to be that person. I just wrote. Wrote to forget. Wrote to live for something. Anything. For a fantasy. My fantasy. My escape.

With a crack of my knuckles, I gave the computer mouse a feverous shake and allowed the white light of the document to wash over me.

“And so Phyllis finished the sigil, her body weak from the energy sacrificed to perform this ancient and dangerous ritual,” I muttered as I began to reread. “Now, she spoke, time for this incantation. Raising her arms, she—”

Vrt, vrt— My phone buzzed again.

“Ugh, come on!” I grumbled to myself as I picked up the device to finally look at the messages.

There was still one person in my life, a poor soul caught in the orbit of the dying star that was me. Alyx, the last person still calling me a friend and the only person who occasionally graced me with messages.

He had planned a blind brunch date where I was supposed to meet his other nerdy friend. She liked fantasy books, Kaverns and Kobolds, and hanging out on the couch while watching shows, which was obviously a euphemism for the twenty-toe tango. The perfect woman for me, yet I wanted nothing to do with her.

I glanced again at the dust-covered picture, trying to remember how long it had been since the accident. Looking at my hand, I stared at my ring finger. The dent where it had been was nearly gone. I had still worn it for some years afterwards, but I couldn't remember when I had finally stopped. 

Two? Maybe three years ago? Time blurs when you're spending it at the bottom of a bottle with a handful of pills.

Oh well, too late for that now. I thought, realizing I had slept through the date. Probably for the better anyway. For her. I mean, who even goes on brunch dates? I don’t even like crêpes.

Ignoring the messages, I dropped the phone on the desk.

Alyx was only doing what he thought was best for me. He had said he didn’t like seeing me like this. That, for my sake, I should get out of the apartment with him more.

But what did he know? He hadn’t lived my life. He didn’t understand the pain I felt by simply existing in this world. The only thing keeping me from truck-kunning myself was this story—this chapter. And maybe, once this final arc was done and the story was over, and I knew how it all ended, then I'd play in traffic. Then I'd get to join her finally.

But who was I kidding? She was an angel. I'd never go wherever she did.

I was suddenly thirsty, thinking about brunch and sad things.

Though… I thought to myself. A mimosa does sound good. Oooh, or a tequila sunrise. But that would require me to get up—

Sighing, I looked towards the door that opened to the rest of the apartment.

“Ugh! Effort is hard. I wish I had a mini-bar or something in here. But that would also require things.”

Defeated by my own depression-induced laziness, I returned to the screen and continued to reread the last few paragraphs in an attempt to settle myself back into the narrative.

“Raising her arms, she…” I tapped away, making a quick edit. “Began. To. Mutter…a series of nonsensical words. Words that meant nothing to anyone who would hear them but to the ancient and omnipotent Phyllis made complete sense. The sigil began to glow as a gust whipped the fragile parchments of the spell, tearing them to shreds. She would only have one shot at getting this to work. Raising her weak arms, she finished the incantation with a single proclamation, ‘I’m coming to get y—"

Vrt, vrt— A third message.

“Whatthefug!! Seriously, dude?” I sighed, picking up the phone and looking at the text chain. “Let me just yank one out in peace!”

The chapter, of course. I thought after speaking aloud. Though Palmela Handerson does seem lonely…

A single green bubble in a sea of blue had come through, and I again grabbed at my chest as my anxiety flared once more 

September 22 - 9:43 - ‘I’m coming to get you.’

There was no number attached to it. A glitch on the provider's end, maybe? But it had come after Alyx’s texts, so it likely meant that he was coming over with the date.

Putting the phone down, I sighed at the thought of company. I stared down at my soda-stained shirt and sweats.

“Ugh! Nuuu—” I continued with a groan, “I don’t want to get dressed. I’d rather get hit by a—”

Screams erupted outside my window, but I wouldn’t have the opportunity to react. The sound of a truck grew immediately louder until the cacophony of said vehicle breaking through the wall of my first-floor apartment overtook it.

Before I even knew what had happened, my world went dark.