“Irina! I’m home!” an unkempt man smashing a house door open with a kick, shouting merrily all the while.
But no one inside the house seemed to mind his sudden intrusion that much. Irina, a tall blonde with a fading scar on her cheeks, sat on her couch sewing a pink scarf of some sorts, not even bothering to spare an eye towards the sudden and violent intrusion. Her two daughters were playing house in the background, making a row of dolls on one of their beds. They too, did not notice the loud man.
The intruder didn’t seem to mind it as much and looked around the house with a look of wistfulness.
“Ah, no place better than home… Did you miss me?”
Silence.
The man’s face suggested he was about thirty, with some wrinkles over his forehead and eyes, his overgrown hair and beard showing some grey spots here and there. But one thing that stood out from the rest were his clothes, which were riddled with holes and tears at random places, most likely also smelling like the rectal creation of a skunk. They looked so old and worn, that one might think it was on him for centuries.
“You know, I went to Egypt this time, since most of them speak English and all. Thought I’d maybe check up on the Pyramids, before looking for the murders, you know?” the man said, as he walked over.
“You know they’re having an insurgency now, right? Bunch of guerilla, terrorism, and religious executions. It was a field day for me! People died practically every day! You know what that means! I had so many chances to meet someone of my kind and I did!"
He slithered next to Irina and continued his story.
“The incident I’m talking about was a government raid on a farm, which housed a dozen or so rebel militants. The police forces didn’t really bother negotiating or anything, and just started pelleting the house with bullets. In the end, all dozen of them died under the barrage. The police then piled to bodies into a truck and went on their merry way.”
The man wrapped his hand around the woman’s shoulder, and got himself more comfortable.
Once again, Irina did not feel his presence.
“I, of course, stood on the sidelines, observing the dead bodies. And lo and behold, one of the bodies there started turning into a spirit like myself. But… tch, he didn’t last long. After screaming something zealous about the Yawn al-din and the Jannah, he quickly turned mad and started attacking me, trying to bite and rip me to pieces with their nails. He eventually fell apart into tiny little particles, like all the others ones before him…”
The man put his hands on Irina’s cold cheeks and pulled her face towards him with a sigh. The woman’s face underwent a split, a paler copy following the man’s pull, and the original staring down at the scarf she was sewing, unperturbed.
“Well, whatever. After that, I felt a bit dejected, so I decided to come back here to see how you were doing.”
The man rolled up the copy’s sleeve, and looked at the cut marks that seemed to be fading over time.
“Well, you seem to be doing well enough. At least you stopped cutting yourself. I was actually kind of worried that I might find you floating in a bloody bathtub by the time I came back,” the man chuckled, “I’d have… killed myself if I missed your death.”
He then looked at the two girls playing, and smiled warmly.
“Well, you’re a responsible young lady, so I guess you wouldn’t leave these two to fend for themselves, huh?” he murmured.
As he was about to give the cold copy a kiss, the real Irina idly glanced towards the clock, before making a panicked expression.
“Oy, blin,” she suddenly exclaimed, and hurriedly got onto her feet, “Girls, come get dressed up, we’re gonna miss your ballet classes!”
“But maaa, we still haven’t found a place for Little Lyuda!” one of the girls complained.
“Little Lyuda can wait until you’ve come back alright? You know what? I’ll leave you with Miss Jones and come home to look after your dolls for you,” Irina said gently.
“Really?” the other girl asked.
“If you want, I can even find her a place myself… though I’m not sure if you’ll like the place they end up in.”
“It’s okay! Mom picks the best spots!”
The girls nodded happily and three went toward their rooms to dress up, leaving the invisible man alone in the living room. A copy of Irina was still in his hands, but one could see it slowly fading away slowly. The man gave it a small peck on the lips and let go of his grasp on it, which hastened the copy’s disappearance.
The real Irina and her daughters soon went out of the house in hurried steps, all prim and proper. Seeing this, the man said his unheard goodbyes.
“Have a nice day, you three!"
Left alone, the man sighed in an exaggerated way, and decided to go towards to the local publishing company to grab a few papers for himself. But as he was about to leave, he heard the door getting unlocked from outside.
“Did they forget something?” he murmured as the door opened.
But instead of Irina, or anyone else that he was familiar with, a casually dressed woman wearing sunglasses entered the room. He wasn’t sure because of the sunglasses, but the woman seemed to be looking towards the man.
“Irina's friend? Or an intruder?” the man didn’t mind the fact that the woman was seemingly staring at him.
He met many instances where he met a similar situation and always had his hopes dashed the very next moment. He was much too old to lose his mood due to his misplaced hope.
Instead, he unreservedly observed the woman from head to toe.
Although the newcomer didn’t have the most striking of figures, she had an approachable round face, and she wasn’t exactly lacking in curves. Couple that with her tightly fitting jeans, most men would find her sexy enough, the man himself included. She stood in front of the door silently, her one hand half inside the small pockets of her jeans and the other holding a dying cigarette bud near her mouth.
“Somewhat rude to stare so intently at someone you’ve just met, isn’t it? Eh, Mister Evan?” the woman suddenly said, as she quenched the cigar bud inside her tiny fist.
The man’s calm demeanor paused abruptly at her words. Something in his head reminded him that the name he just heard was his own, and also pointed out the fact that someone else was talking to him.
"Heh. Heheh," he chuckled nervously.
He shook his head and fell down to the floor.
"Am I going crazy again?” he murmured, “I thought I was doing pretty good lately, but I guess it needed to happen again at one point or another, huh?”
Evan wondered for how much longer will he stay insane. The last time it happened, he lost himself in the 1940s and later woke up in the early 21st century. He almost had a heart attack from seeing all the changes in the world.
‘Maybe after I wake up after this... I'll be in one of those dystopias?'
“Heh, you can be more hopeful, you know? I’m not a part of your delusions, mister Evan,” the woman smiled compassionately and pulled out her arms. She softly snapped her fingers and a pulsating silver light appeared on her palm. With it, she touched the man’s forever cold cheeks.
As he felt the warmth of human for the first time in centuries, a tear appeared in his eyes without his control. He tried to smile, but could only manage a broken grin. He tried to say something back, but could only stutter incessantly with his shaking jaw. A million different thoughts burst out like a tidal wave inside his mind as they tried to sweep away the battered dam that contained his tired sanity. The man could feel himself falling into a state he knew exceedingly personally.
Insanity.
“Why… Why? Why?! WHY?!” he growled ceaselessly, holding his messy head between with his shaking hands.
Glaring at the woman with so much hatred, as if she was the one who put him in his state, he suddenly started jumped at her, swinging his fists without much reason and rhyme. The woman didn’t seem to mind the sudden outburst that much, as she effortlessly caught the man’s hands and tripped him with her feet. The man fell the ground with his cheeks first, but the pain barely registering in his brain. He slammed he ground with his palms and tried to push himself up, but a hand grabbed him by his hair and shoved his face to the ground. He still thrashed and struggled there, but no matter how much he tried to, he couldn’t overpower the woman above him.
“Well, I guess it’s inevitable that things come to this,” she then sighed, as her pink hands took on the silver sheen of metal next.
With it, she gently grabbed at the man’s head, unperturbed by the dirt and mess on it. The man felt the broken walls in his mind begin to mend themselves, as finally, sane thoughts reappeared in his brain. But although not insane, he still felt endless rage as he remembered the state he was put in for three whole centuries. He lashed at the foreign power in his mind, trying to break the connection in a fit of blind anger.
"I sympathize with your situation... but can you not be annoying?" scoffed the woman. "I'm trying to help here."
Her words carried a heavy weight behind them, but the man’s rage didn’t allow him to become calm and collected so easily. His screamed and thrashed at the first person he could speak to in centuries, shouting out incoherent questions at her.
This cruel, deaf world did not deserve his patience.
Understanding that there was no way of rationally solving the situation, the woman grabbed at the man’s hair, pulled him from the ground, before promptly slamming him to the ground.
Dizziness filled the man’s mind, as he dazedly groaned. He felt himself being pulled up and thrown back to the ground. This time, he was facing up. The woman sat squarely on his stomach, before giving him a few good slaps with her healing silver hand to shake him out of his stupor.
The sudden movements must’ve shaken off her sunglasses, as a very peculiar set of eyes gazed at the man. Completely white pupils that were surrounded by what one could only describe as looming storm clouds. Every time she blinked, strands of blue lighting would flicker violently from her eyelashes, as if she was barely holding the fury and anger boiling inside her.
“Do you want to die? Or do you want a chance at living?” the woman asked, noticing that the other had calmed down somewhat.
“What…? What do you mean?” the man murmured.
“Exactly what I mean. I can kill you very easily, or I can try giving you another chance at life. It’s nothing complicated, really. Live or die, two simple choices. Pick quickly, or I might get pissed and leave you like this, you know? Who knows when in the future I’ll bother to remember about the existence of a random defective soul like you?”
“I…” he stuttered, before thinking of the two choices… but the answer came to him almost immediately, “I’ll live!”
“Heh, that’s the spirit! Eh? Spirit? … Ah, whatever,” the woman shrugged at her own joke and her silver hands took on golden hue this time.
Compared to the metallic luster of the previous color, this one seemed more unearthly and ethereal than anything else. Using it, the woman drew a circle in the air. The golden circle shook slightly, before sending out a violent ripple throughout the surrounding space. The man felt the powerful shockwave washing over his body, before getting pulled off the ground by the woman.
“Walk through that and you’ll find yourself in your new life."
The man felt slightly apprehensive at the words, but thinking that at least he’ll be able to live once more, he resolutely walked through the golden door.
"Strive for eternity or strive for true death, lest your wandering undeath comes to haunt you once more," cryptic words came out of the woman's lips.
Before the man could ask what that meant, the golden door closed in on itself and thus his fate was sealed. As peace and silence came upon the room once more, the woman looked around the house. Sighing, she fixed the mess she’d made and fell on the couch with a tired groan.
“I’m too nice for my own good.”
Sending them to another world was not something she could do for every stray soul she found. At best, they’ll be killed by her properly and become able to join the circle of reincarnation.
But the man was special. He was the first of them all, after all. He deserved this much.
As for what the man will make of his second life... she wasn't even sure if he would become a human properly so how can she guess at his fate? But a tenacious soul like that will probably survive anything.
She then stood up with some effort and fixed her scrunchy clothes. She put on her shades to hide the fury and tiredness she felt inside. She thought about the thousands of ‘accidents’ she had to slay and the thunder in her eyes crackled once more.
“Fucking Ruler and his whims…”
…
