“Gee, do you think? It’s bad enough that you’re in my head. Stay away from the rest of my body, you little knoot!”
Staven stood up and moved over to sit on a dry rock. This was getting worse and worse. He was sure that the Soul Reapers would arrive at any moment and whisk him away to wherever they took possessed people.
They, for Staven, realized he was not truly alone, sat in silence for a few more minutes until he asked himself, “What’s a knoot?”
“Knoots are dragon pellets,” he answered.
“Pellets?”
“Yeah, you know, the little hard balls of poop that come out of dragon butts.”
Staven laughed, and while he wasn’t sure, it felt as though the laughter came from both of them.
“Hey, demon, do you have a name?” he asked.
“I’m not a demon, I’m a thirteen-year-old boy, and my name is Mark,” the demon replied.
“What!?” Staven said, incredulously. “I’m being possessed by a child demon?”
“I am not a demon,” answered Mark. “I’m just a kid having a bizarre dream. I’ve been having dreams about this place for months, but this is the first time I’ve ever been a part of it. This is incredible!”
“Kid, this is no dream,” answered Staven. “This is my life. You’re in my head, and I’d appreciate it if you got out now.”
“I can’t believe I’m arguing with my own dream,” said Mark in amazement. “But seriously, look around. You have dragons and centaurs and electric squirrels. This isn’t real.”
“Um, yeah, it is,” answered Staven, “and those are squarells, not whatever squirrels are. Their bushy tails hold a static magic charge which lets them disappear and reappear a few yards away when they’re startled. What’s a squirrel?”
“Uh, squirrels are small furry mammals that look a lot like your squarells but without the magic,” answered Mark. “In fact, nothing in my world is magical. If this isn’t a dream, then I don’t think I’m on Earth anymore.” His voice was starting to quiver as though he was beginning to fear that he wasn’t safe at home in his bed.
Staven felt Mark’s panic surge through him and quickly said, “Hey, kid. I’m sure this is just a dream to you. Perhaps you somehow get in my head when you’re sleeping but this really is Earth, and you really do need to get out of here.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m guessing you don’t have Soul Reapers where you live,” answered Staven. “They are the scariest beings imaginable and have been around forever. Every living creature is terrified of them, and there is no escaping if they come for you.”
“What do they do?” asked Mark.
“No one knows,” answered Staven. “They show up when someone gets demons in their head, and then that person disappears forever. There are lots of different theories about what they do to the possessed person, but none of them are pleasant.”
Now they were both shaking with fear.
“We’d better get home and pray that you wake up and leave before the Soul Reapers arrive,” said Staven as he stood and gathered his things. “Do you think we could talk in my head instead of out loud?” he asked.
They tried and felt considerably less conspicuous conversing mentally rather than verbally, except for the time when Mark suggested that Staven pinch and slap himself to try to awaken him. It was painful, Staven looked like an idiot while doing it and it didn’t work. They then spent the remainder of the trip home silently getting to know each other.
Staven, who was seventeen and had no family who wanted anything to do with him, was trying to figure out what to do with his life. He lived in a world of magic where everyone other than him possessed incredible powers. He had the magical prowess of a two-year-old. Sure, he could use enchanted objects and wield an enchanted sword, but that was about it. He couldn’t even transform raw food into a meal. Staven had to cook physically. It was embarrassing, and it made him an outcast.
His only skills were being muscular and agile, which were still valuable traits for specific tasks. For example, all the magic in the world couldn’t remove a dragon from your garden. The only way to do that was to capture or kill it physically.
“Or to whack one with your sword and have it run around like a chicken with its head cut off,” noted Mark.
“What’s a chicken?”
“Never mind.”
Mark was a boy from Cincinnati and today was his thirteenth birthday. He played soccer but preferred to hang out with his friends playing video role-playing games, playing fantasy board games, or reading fantasy novels. Most of these terms were meaningless to Staven, but Mark assured him it didn’t matter. Mark’s home was similar to this but less tropical, more populated, with entirely different animals and as previously noted, it had no magic.
Staven’s limited magical abilities became apparent when they arrived at his street. Every house was immaculate, except his. They were all set back from the road with manicured lawns, perfectly painted picket fences, and pristine gardens. They also chose to use their front yards as their living spaces with pools, hot tubs, and patios right out in front. The house on the corner was particularly spectacular. It almost looked like a small castle from a fairy tale.
Staven’s house, on the other hand, had peeling paint, a weedy vegetable garden and a small lawn in need of mowing. “I can’t just enchant the paint to stay shiny, or the grass to grow to the perfect length like everyone else,” he muttered. “I have to do the work myself. It sucks.”
Mark could feel Staven’s gloom and could see his neighbors’ reactions as they arrived. News of the rampaging headless dragon evidently traveled faster than them. He was feeling bad for Staven and was attempting to think of a kind thought when a cold chill went through their body, and the whole world seemed to slightly dim. It was as though a dark cloud had passed overhead, but the sky was still clear. Staven looked up and saw a tall, thin figure approaching from down the lane. Then he turned and saw another and another.
The strangers were wearing gray, hooded robes but you could see parts of their faces and their hands. They all looked impossibly old with dark red, leathery skin tautly stretched over emaciated bodies. Mark thought they looked like skeletons shrink-wrapped in old leather and didn’t need to ask what they were. The Soul Reapers had found them.
Staven/Mark tried to keep their distance, but another Soul Reaper appeared behind them. Suddenly they were surrounded by four of terrifying monsters in an ever-shrinking circle.
“Mark, buddy, you’d better wake up and get out of here for both our sakes,” muttered Staven, with a shaky voice.
“I’m trying. Believe me, I’m trying,” Mark cried. “But how do you wake yourself up from your own dream?”
“I don’t know, but we’re doomed if you don’t figure it out right now,” cringed Staven.
The Soul Reapers were so close that Staven could see their dark, hollow eyes and smell their musty aroma. They all simultaneously reached out their right arms and placed their hands on his shoulders. Staven tightly closed his eyes at the last minute as he felt their claw-like fingers grasp his body. He expected to feel his skin burn off or something equally terrible to occur, but nothing happened.
Ten seconds passed, then twenty, then thirty and still he just stood there.
Staven peeked out of one eye and saw his street. Then he opened both eyes and realized he was standing alone in his yard. There were no Soul Reapers anywhere, just his neighbors, hiding in their houses nervously peering out of half-closed curtains.
“We did it, Mark! We did it!” Staven thought to himself, but there was no one there. The voice in his head was gone, and while he was certainly relieved, he also felt more alone than ever before.
Staven headed into his house thinking, “I can’t believe it. The demon is gone, the Soul Reapers have left, and I actually miss that little knoot. I must be going crazy.”
Chapter 2
Marius
JULY 1, EARTH
“MARIUS!”
I
was thrust awake by the house-shaking sound of Mom bellowing from downstairs.
“Marius, get out of bed. You’ll be late for soccer,” she shouted again.
I was still shaking from my nightmare and barely squeaked out, “I’ll be right down, Mom. Don’t call me Marius. You know I want to be called Mark!”
Have you ever had a dream so vivid that you remember it as though it were real, but then it begins to fade, second by second? Well, this wasn’t like that. I woke up terrified that Soul Reapers were going to get me and the memory didn’t fade. In fact, I still don’t seem to be forgetting the dream at all.
The other strange thing about this dream was the perspective. Sometimes the way I dream is like watching a movie, but this one was like I was in it. I mean, I guess I wasn’t really in it, but it was like I was watching it through Staven’s eyes. The experience was spooky but cool. I couldn’t stop thinking about going back, even though I was scared. But it was morning, and it was my birthday, so I had to get up.
Excuse me, let me introduce myself. My name is Marius Panagopoulos. What parents give their kid a name like that? It’s awful, and I decided I was tired of being called “Mary” or of kids saying, “Will you marry us, Panagopoulos?” So last year I decided to call myself Mark after I graduated sixth grade and moved to a new school.
I live in Cincinnati, Ohio, today is my thirteenth birthday, and this is my first entry in the new diary my parents gave me as a present. What parents give their kid a journal for a birthday present? Mom says that it’ll help my writing skills if I write in it every day. I say, “You mean you want me to write in it every day … even in the summer!?” Dad says, “Listen to your mother.”
Look, I’m a good student. I’m great at math, I love to read, but I hate to write. I just never know what to say, and everything comes out jumbled when I try to write it down. Do you want to know the worst part, though? You can’t even tear out the pages in this stupid diary. Whatever you write stays there forever!
The only good part is that Mom agrees that diaries are “personal.” That means that nobody can read it except me and that I can write whatever I want. The pages get kind of wrinkly when you write on them so she can check that I’m writing without actually seeing what I wrote.
So why am I writing all this instead of just drawing pictures of things like zombie attacks and dragons on every page? Good question. You see, Mom and Dad let me open this present before soccer, and I was so mad that I got even a yellow card for yelling at Amy Stiltman in the game, although she thoroughly deserved it. I had decided to merely scribble on the pages by the end of soccer when my best friend, Malik, made an unexpected remark. I had just told my three closest friends about last night’s spectacular dream while we were eating snacks on the sideline after the game and Malik said, “Dude, you should write it down, so you don’t forget it.”
I’m doomed.
JULY 22, EARTH
It’s been nearly three weeks, and Mom is mad at me. I wrote a little bit of my dream in the diary every day for the first week but haven’t written anything since. She says that “I need to write every day.” I say, “I have nothing to write about.” Dad says, “Just write about what you’re doing.” That’s the whole problem though. My life is boring. I go to soccer, hang out with my friends and play fantasy board games with Malik, Ethan, and Tyler. We just got a new one, Wizard Spelz and it is cool but what am I going to write about that in a diary?
I guess I could write about soccer. Our team was slaughtered today. Woo-hoo. We were playing against the Pink Strikers. A boutique sponsors them and their team captain, Nancy Wellington, picked the name. The funny thing is that everyone tries to get on that team, even though they have to wear pink Jerseys. You see, Nancy is a beast. I don’t mean that she looks like a beast. Nancy’s kind of pretty but is strong, fast and has impressive ball skills. One time they scored because she kicked the ball so hard that Ethan, our goalie, fell over into the goal when he caught it. The rest of the game wasn’t much better. It’s kind of hard to tease a team about wearing pink jerseys when they are undefeated.
Tonight, though, we have a sleepover at Tyler’s house. Maybe something will happen, or I’ll have another dream. I haven’t had another one like that one back in June, and the guys are getting tired of me talking about it. Tyler says it’s just my brain making up things based on the board games we play. Malik suggested that maybe my mind was astral projecting to an alien world. He told me to look at the stars to try to figure out where I was the next time I go. I like Malik’s idea, and I’m going to do that if I ever get the chance but I’m starting to think that perhaps Tyler’s right. Maybe it was just a fantastic dream.
JULY 24, MEARTH
“Hey look, a unicorn!” Staven exclaimed as a unicorn crashed across their path.
The other troops marching alongside glared at him.
“Sorry,” muttered Staven before subvocalizing, “shut up, Mark. I can’t afford to be fired from this gig.”
“Sorry,” thought Mark. “But did you see that? A unicorn just ran across the road!”
“Yeah, for the fortieth time today and watch our step. Unicorn poop might be rainbow-colored but it doesn’t smell like strawberries, and you don’t want to get it on your boots,” grumbled Staven. “Where have you been for the past month? And more importantly, why are you back?”
“I’ve been back living my life,” thought Mark. “I only get here when I dream, and I don’t seem to have any control over when I come. But it’s great to be back! What happened with the Soul Reapers?”
“Yeah, it’s just lovely having you back, kid,” thought Staven. “I don’t know what happened with the Soul Reapers. I felt them touch my shoulders, closed my eyes and then you and they were all gone. I figured they had taken you and left me. I did feel a little bad for you, though. What happened?”
“Uh, I just woke up,” admitted Mark. “And then I couldn’t get back here, no matter how hard I tried. I was starting to think it was just a dream.”
“No such luck, kid but you have to be cool this time. I had to sneak out of town in the middle of the night after our last adventure, and I can never go back there again. Losing the house kind of stinks because it has been in my family for generations but those farmers are never going to forgive the damage that chigon caused and I will never be able to pay for it. I used some connections with a nearby kingdom to get this security job. We’re escorting the daughter of a wealthy family on a road trip, and I’ll be in deep trouble if I screw it up. So please keep quiet!”
Mark looked around and realized that they were part of a company of a dozen soldiers marching alongside a fancy carriage pulled by a centaur.
“Hey Staven, is that a centaur pulling that carriage?” thought Mark.
Staven sighed and thought, “Yeah and please keep quiet. As you might recall, centaurs and I do not get along. We are having a heck of a time keeping this one focused on pulling the carriage instead of chasing after cute unicorns, so I don’t need you to point them out.”
Mark did his best to keep quiet as they marched through the forest, but it was difficult. The vegetation on this planet didn’t look much different than back home but the pavers in the road glimmered, and the animals were incredible. They saw a herd of unicorns in the distance, which drove the centaur crazy. There were dozens of magical squarells, colorful birds that looked like they were on fire and thousands of sparkling specs of light that Staven explained were wood fairies.
“I’m sorry,” Mark finally broke down and thought, “Excuse me but what are those giants called, who have been watching us?”
“What giants?”
“Oh, the two crouching by the side of the road ahead of us and the other one off to our right.”
Staven quickly looked around and shouted, “TROLLS!”
Three gigantic trolls immediately stepped out of the shadows and charged the group. The centaur stood frozen and started to pee like one of those statue fountains, while the soldiers formed a
protective circle around the carriage.
The captain sent two troops to attack the closest troll, and they were tossed dozens of yards away with one brush of the troll’s massive arm. Each troll had to be over thirty feet tall and looked like a cross between a grizzly bear and a gorilla. Nobody knew why these trolls wanted the girl or the carriage, but everybody realized there was no way ten soldiers were going to stop them. Suddenly Staven, the centaur, the girl and the captain realized they were the only ones left as the other soldiers fled down the road behind them.
The captain was bound to stay by honor and duty. The centaur and the girl were bound to the carriage. And Staven was bound by the fact that his legs didn’t seem to want to move. Then, without warning, Mark dropped Staven to one knee and reached down with curled fingers as though he was going to dig in the dirt. He stood, raising his hands high above his head and as he did, a smooth, shimmering, translucent wall rose fifty feet high around the troll to their right.
The two trolls on the road paused as they heard their friend banging against the wall of energy and watched sparks erupt from its blows. Then they turned, roared and raced straight towards Staven.
Mark never took his eyes off of them as he brought his hands to chest height, drew his elbows back and began to hum. His whole body began to glow and vibrate until he thrust his hands forward towards the two trolls, causing a brilliant yellow ball of fire to shoot towards them. A moment later they were just not there.
“What was that!?” shouted Staven, in spite of himself.
“I don’t know,” Mark thought. “My friends and I sometimes act out the fantasy board games we play, and that’s how I imagined it would work.”
“Those were trolls,” answered the captain, who did not know about Mark. “And that was amazing!”
“It certainly was,” agreed the young woman peering out the carriage window at Staven. She was smiling and started to say, “My name is…” Then she stopped, and her expression turned to terror. Staven saw the same expressions on the captain and the centaur and didn’t need to ask why. He simply said, “Get her out of here and safely home as quickly as possible.”
Stavius Page 2
