This is a really short piece of fiction. I mentioned on twitter I had a story that seemed to be bursting to get out and this is the result, a breathless scene jumping short narrative. It pulls on a lot of thematic ideas I have floating around, but doesn’t really expand on them. What do you think?

The bitter air felt like it was burning my throat as I struggled to breath. My head was expanding and shrinking, but I couldn’t pause long. I could hear them coming. I didn’t know why I was running, no other choice I think. Death was chasing me, yet Death was waiting for me in the coldness. I had nothing to save, not even myself.

I plunged into the blinding darkness between the trees and glanced back to see them flying over the bushes at the top of the hill like winged predatory monsters. They didn’t seem human, covered with mud, tattered rags and carrying makeshift weapons of blades and bats. More like beasts in the shape of people. The sound they screamed was awful, was inhuman, was… I bashed and rolled into trees and bushes, that cut and stung my cold skin.

One of them was close, I could hear its breathing, as if he (if it was a he) were calling out to all around that he existed. I couldn’t see, couldn’t tell from which way I had come, which way I was going so I kept moving. It seemed better to act then to try and think. He seemed to be whispering something, as if he was trying to coax me towards him. I pushed harder instead, but he was getting closer. Without a chance to gather my wits, I tripped forward, my face hit water and dirt. Above me there was a clunk, a blade dug deep into a tree. The man was grumbling incoherently as he tried to pull the blade free. He wasn’t standing like a man, his knees were bent, his back arched like an animal. I slowly lifted myself up and he kicked me hard in the ribs, sending me spiraling. I couldn’t see his face, but from the sounds, I figured he was chewing his dirty lips in anticipation.

Lying on my back I watched as he raised the freed blade high, intending to strike down. I couldn’t move, frozen, watching Death finally strike. But something moved, flashed and then there was a vivid crack and the man fell to the ground. “Help me,” some part of me whispered, a part that wanted to stay alive. Something moved near my face, a shimmering of the shadows. It was warm.

“You have been touched and once you have been swallowed by the darkness you will be theirs. Their darkness is the absence of hope. One light.”

“My family…” I gasped though the bitter cold and the warmth was suddenly gone. I stopped. But then I willed myself to breath. My wife, my daughter, cold, dead. Part of me didn’t want to let go, something in me was changing. It was moving and it was wrong.

Torn inside, I was moving again. I don’t know how I got up. The trees were blurs, my breathing was dead. The shouting and roaring never diminished, always close. My hand reached into my pocket, my wallet was still there. Barely stopping I pulled out the photo I kept there, a photo of my wife and daughter somewhere bright, smiling, alive. Even in the near pitch-darkness, I could make out the details of their faces. I could imagine touching my daughters face.

The image was shattered in my minds eye suddenly, by the memory; ripped from the car, flying through the night. Watching as the car rolled, not once but three times with a terrible metal crunching and wheels turning uselessly in the air. Their bodies broken and bloody as I scrambled through the wreckage. Blood in their hair.

Then the roaring and screaming, as those beast-creatures, those not really human, came for me. I shook my head and my family were alive again in that photo, looking back at me with smiles and love. I knew it was a lie, but it was the one light in the darkness.

Something lifted me from behind and again I was flying in the air. I lifted myself from the hard mud. I should be in pain, but a chilling numbness spread through me. They were chanting, banging on the ground, on their hands. They surrounded me and somewhere light shone. A single man, one that walked like a human might, lifted me by my chin with one hand. Was that my blood that dribbled down his arm? His skin was covered with tattoos but I must have been hallucinating because they were moving, dancing dark patterns, hiding his true face. “You will make a fine dog,” he said with a guttural voice, like an animal that learned to talk human. Something was rammed down my throat and choked. I started to blackout and I was falling, into blackness. I saw the photo of my wife and daughter, but they were animated, calling to me. I reached for them and the darkness swallowed me, like forgetfulness creeping through sand. I welcomed it for it promised closure and peace. Endings.

But in the utter darkness, there was a pinpoint of light. When I no longer knew who I was, it was there. I though I could see the blue sky. I reasoned it would fade like everything. Then the photo was in my hand, they were looking up at me smiling, loving me. The darkness crept like sleep over my hands, over the photo. Blood in their hair. The car rolling three times. Scrambling through the wreckage. The blood washed away the darkness, I fought it like trying to wake from a nightmare. But it would not go away. My hands melted as a I tried to scratch at the edges and the rage welled in me.

My hands were different, bigger and heavier. I felt I was wearing a huge mask, my head was difficult to turn and I couldn’t call out or speak. Instead I roared and bit. My claws passed through those beast-like people like paper. The man with the moving tattoos had fallen to the muddy ground and I opened my jaws and swallowed him, eating all the dark and terrible things inside him, digesting it.

I awoke some impossible to determine time later. I was naked but unhurt. I stood up slowly, blood and body parts lay all around me. In a pile of tattered rags I found my wallet and taking the photo without looking at it, I try to find my way. Something new was inside me. Something of rage and fire. But I also felt empty. The rest of me couldn’t reconcile the two: the emptiness and the rage.

I knew where I was going without knowing. My mind didn’t question where my body moved. The sun was rising and the light was seeping through the trees. I found the car, but the bodies were not there. I knew also that that was okay. The trees seemed to promise a path and I followed it to a small glen. My wife and my daughter’s bodies lay there. They were cleaned and dressed in white clothes. There was no blood in their hair. I lay down beside them, hoping to fall asleep with them. Hoping the darkness would keep its promise.

In the dream I was on a boat. I remember looking over the side and seeing a monstrous dog or wolf stare back at me. A man steered the boat from the back. He seemed fuzzy, as if I couldn’t perceive him directly. “It’s time to say goodbye Daddy,” my daughter said.

“I don’t want you to go.” I begged.

“Don’t be silly Daddy, we can’t stay and you can’t come,” she said as she kissed and hugged me.

I felt my wife hold my hand. Her voice was gone but she held me. Then she was gone too. I wasn’t allowed to turn, wasn’t allowed to see where they were going.

I awoke to something being poured down my mouth. It tasted bitter and sharp. A tall woman held my head back. “Drink this mead. It is a holy drink and it is strong enough to wake the near dead.” I knew her or rather I knew her warmth and her voice.

“I wish to die.”

“Dying is not for you or I yet. Life has other purposes for us. They are not the only darkness-es in this world.” Her voice was calm.

“There is a monster in me.” I whispered.

“That is what makes you human.”

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I think I’m going to have to start a new section of my website: “Reasons why I didn’t write last night“. This week there was three pretty good reasons. The first was Alice, our four year old, got sick in school so I had to take her home early and work the rest of the day from home. (She’s fine night after a full nights sleep). Which meant I was tapping away on my laptop till late enough and seeing I use my laptop to write, it wasn’t looking like it would be enjoyable to spend the rest of the evening, tapping away on my laptop, writing instead of coding.

The second was that our main desktop computer stopped working. There is a light on the motherboard, but the fan doesn’t start, it doesn’t boot, no lights on the front etc. Now I normally write using my laptop, but the desktop computer is used a lot by my wife and with out last night, she was left restless. So ended up catching up on lots of our recorded TV.

But the best (and final) reason is that I got two new books. A gift from an anonymous Internet person for my free WordPress plugin: tdomf. Both Alan Moore Graphic Novels: V for Vendetta and Watchmen. I’m not a comic person at all, but I have a few graphic novels (including all the sandman volumes).  And Watchmen is good, so I ended up spending the evening getting completely engrossed in it. 

I needed a short break from writing anyway. The bit I’m working on for Lost Heroes RPG currently was digging into my brain a bit and there was one night last week I couldn’t fall asleep, because I knew I’d have nightmares and I kept waking myself up (I lucid dream occasionally and can pull myself out of a dream when I need to… the really scare dreams are those that won’t let you wake up… but then there are other techniques to use). Is that a good thing that I have scary dreams about what I’m writing? Not even sure the writing in Lost Heroes is that good even. I’m desperate to get it finished and put it online. It seems to keep growing, the more I cut out, the bigger the rest of it gets.

Hmm… I just watched the trailer for the Watchmen movie. I haven’t finished reading Watchmen but I was able to recognise each scene that was shown in the trailer. What I found odd about the trailer was the feel of the presented scenes and the order they decided to present them in: it made Watchmen look more “action-packed” and “classic superhero saving the world” than how I’m actually find Watchmen which is more like “Taxidriver” for the superhero genre. But then trailers are made to sell a movie to people who may know very little about the original source… so it probably is misrepresenting it a bit. Not that I’m too pushed, chances of me seeing it in the cinema? Slim to none.

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Last night, I didn’t sleep well. The recent changeable weather has given me a rather nasty chesty cough. My eyes are sore, I’m tired and flushed the whole time. The kids and my wife are all suffering too and there is nothing besides cough syrups and rest for it (and as parents you’re never really allowed to rest).

I couldn’t get to sleep right. I kept replaying stuff from the day in my head. Nothing critical. But I woke early this morning and I was re-playing code through my head. Running through functions, testing various inputs, visualising outputs. At the same time, interjected with scenes and thoughts about worries. It wasn’t just odd but exhausting, like my head couldn’t handle it. I felt miserable and I couldn’t get out of bed when the alarm clock went. Normally, no matter what my state, I get out of bed on time. I may still be half asleep, but I get out of bed and start into the motions. This time I couldn’t. Pushed the clock away. Let everyone sleep.

What is fascinating though, is that I found a security leak in my code from that weird dream. I tested it this morning, confirmed my suspicions and I patched it in an hour or so.

Feeling better now with the sun beaming brightly. It’s still wind and cold-ish. But the dose of sunlight has really done my head well.

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This is a level for the, now truly dead, computer game Vampire the Masquerade: Redemption, based on White Wolf’s Vampire the Masquerade PnP (pen and paper) Roleplaying game.

It is meant to be the “Akashic Records”; a mystical umbral realm, a storehouse of all knowledge. A place travelled to through dreams and spirit quests. I was interested in supporting the Mage MOD that at one stage was gathering a lot of momentum.

A lot of people hit this page looking for images or drawings of the actual astral Akashic Records. However while I do dream, I’ve never visited this realm, if it exists, in a waking state. This level is actually inspired by the 1998 Robin Williams’ movie “What Dreams May Come”.

Download it!

Readme.txt

Akashic Records Map by The Dead One 24th June 2001 for Vampire the Masquerade – Redemptation Computer Game

Files

Map_TDO_AkashicRecords_Readme.txt – This file that your currently reading.
Map_TDO_AkashicRecords_Readme.nob – The file containing the Akashic Records map for Vampire the Masquerade – Redemptation Computer game.

Map Description

Akashic Records; a mystical umbral realm, a storehouse of all knowledge. A place travelled to through dreams and spirit quests. But the knowledge is locked in symbols and hidden meanings and the travellers only take what they need.

Instructions for use

Copy the file Map_TDO_AkashicRecords.nob to your Vampire directory. Start Vampire and go to Multiplayer > Lan. Go to Create New Game and select any of the below listed chronicles to view a variant of my map:

MP_TDO_AR_w_flying_null
MP_TDO_AR_base_null
MP_TDO_AR_wo_flying_null
MP_TDO_AR_eclipse_null

Map Notes

Inspired by the libary seen in the film “What dreams may come”. It’s meant to be an umbral/mystical libary.

There is a “darker” area at the back of the map which can be used to suggest leaving the libary and going into a darker place such as in the original movie “What Dreams May Come”

[AR2.nil] MP_TDO_AR_w_flying_null has invisible platforms to simulate flying/floating in this mystical place

[AR1.nil] MP_TDO_AR_base_null has semi-visible platforms to simulate flying/floating in this mystical place

[AR3.nil] MP_TDO_AR_wo_flying_null has none of the invisible platforms

[AR4.nil] MP_TDO_AR_eclipse_null has an eclipse for the sky and is a much darker version

The chronicles are not linked to any other maps but they each have four exits.

This is my first complete map for Vampire. I had intended to release a small chronicle with it to demostrate the possible use of the map but I’ve spent too many hours on it already. Hope you like it.

There are two new textures, one of which is a completely transparent one (for the invisible platforms). There are two new skys, one was meant to be a sunset but it’s weird enought to work, the other is meant to be an eclipse (I used a photo of the recent eclipse for it). If you want to know how I did this, go here.

I was tempted to use layers for the diffrent variants but I think it’s cleaner this way for those who wish to use the map in chronicles.

The map files are stored within the nob file. For compilation details you can see the log files which I left in the NOB file.

If you wish to use my maps in your chronicle go ahead. If you wish to use it a chronicle or hub you intended to release, either unmodified or not, please give me due credit by linking to my email, webpage or original download page on ModHaven.

Exit Ids [for LockExit]

“Main Entrance”: 0
“Left Door”: 1
“Middle Door”: 2
“Right Door”: 3

Possible Map Uses

As a starting point in a chronicle for a mystical quest or the end point of a quest finally reaching a place of all knowledge
A Tremere or Mage Chantry’s libary
A Digital Net database

Thanks to

* The makers of the film “What Dreams May Come” for inspiring me
* White Wolf for the roleplaying game “Mage”
* Nihilistic for the computer game “Vampire the Masquerade – Redepmtaion”
* Kinami for his tutorials on using Embrace
* MapDepo for the remains of the DynamicFAQ
* ModHaven for keeping the Vampire community alive
* WodMod for their hardworking and keeping me interested
* My Fiancee for letting spend hours working away on the computer
@ home Thanks *Super Bunny*!

Thanks for your attention! Enjoy!

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This story of mine came in the top six (runnerup) of the 2002 Literary Agent.co.uk Competition. It’s about a paradox for a dreamwalker.

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This short piece is a strange surreal metaphor.

   That is the story of the pig, Hope you folks out there in wonderland enjoyed it. Be right back after the break.

   Music. End Music. Music. EJECT. EJECT. EJECT. EJECT. EJECT. EJECT. EJECT. EJECT. EJECT. EJECT. EJECT. EJECT. EJECT. EJECT. EJECT. EJECT. E

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From 1996, I wrote this scene while in first year in University. For some unknowable angst-ridden-still-acting-like-a-teenager reason, I emailed this to a lot of people. I’ve preserved the original ASCII text format.

I dreamt- 

========================================================= 

'Madness is a perfectly normal, state of mind' the man
explained with his upper crust English. He sat down
and waved his white gloved hand in the air.
He had an aura, around him, of superiority. Somebody
answered him. 'Madness is a just reaction to the
subconscious thoughts about death....' this one who
spoke now was tall, black trench coat, leather
trousers, big boots. He refused to sit down but
stood in the dark shadows.
          'I beg to disagree, my friend. It's a
slight rendering of the metaphysical barrier of the
subconscious.....' the upper class English man said.
          There was three men and a young lady here,
including myself. I never entered into the debate but
listened.
          '.....when the conscious soul understands
the pure evil of itself,' the English man continued.
          'You think you understand madness and
evil?' the young lady bent close to him, she wore
what looked like an 18th Century costume, 'Have you
ever been submerged totally in your own mind,
illusions and protections ripped away? There is no
such thing as pure evil.'
         'Really Cammy,'
         'Evil exists only in it's own corrupted
forms.'
         'Every little bit counts you know.' He
sounded like he knew it all and it infuriated Cammy.
I could see her chest heave underneath what must be
a corset. The man in the trench coat lit a
cigarette and blew long streams into the air.
	The two other men looked normal in their
business like suits but they had their backs to me,
looking out the window into the City. Their business
style seemed to contrast with the dark English style
of furnishings. I kept wanting to see their faces,
not the backs or their neatly cut hair.
Cammy came over and ate down beside me, each movement
beautiful in it's grace and flow. She was nearer now
and I could see how pale her skin was, and how
beautiful her black rimmed eyes contrasted with it's
paleness. A piece of hair hung delicately over her
forehead.
	The door opened and a waiter came in pushing
a trolley of drinks. The young English man said 'Ah
service. Good show my man.' No one else moved, the man
in the trench coat took another long drag from his
cigarette, the two at the window seemed to listen to a
faraway train and Cammy was sorting out the ruffles in
her satin dress. The waiter came around to each, first
the English man, then Cammy, myself, and around to the
two at the window who waved him away with a slight
movement of the hand. He left then, leaving us in
silence.
	The English man was looking at me. I was
finding the silence uncomfortable, I knew he was going
to ask me something and then he did 'What do you think
is madness?' Everyone knew he meant me and I knew
everyone waited intently for an answer but they hid it
so well. It was time to impress, but should I think
that way? That is not me. 'Do you dream English man?'
I said.
	'English man? I like that title, I may use
that.'
	Cammy broke in again 'well do you dream
'English man' do you dream?'
	'Yes.'
	'What do you dream of?' I leaned forward and
placed my hands together in front of me.
	'This and that.'
	'Is there logic to it?'
	'No.' I knew he waited for my response but I
didn't need to answer, for the silence itself was the
answer. He looked expectantly at me, leaned forward, I
leaned back into my chair.
	'Yes?' he ventured.
	'You are wrong, your dreams do have logic. The
twisted fantastic logic of the dreamer's subconscious.
Madness is when their is no logic to it.' I had my point
and it sounded good. I looked at Cammy, her expression
had not changed.
	'That's a damn interesting way to look at it.' I
looked at the man in the trench coat but all he did was
take another drag of his cigarette.
	'But how does that sort of madness come about?'
	I looked at the men at the window, one of them
must have turned around because he just turned his
perfect head back to the window.
	The man in the trench coat threw his cigarette
onto the glass table in the center, 'When is Darius
intending to appear? Have things to do...'
	'Silence! He will come.' One of the men at the
window raised his hand to enforce his comment.
	The one called Cammy looked at me and said 'What
do you do?'
	'I mess with dreams.'
	It seemed so natural that she sat there in 18th
century period dress, it seemed like a dream.
	'You do. So this 'dream-madness' you describe,
what is it like' The English man sat forward intent on an
answer.
	'Can we talk about something else...?'
	'Well how do you do it then, I mean 'mess with
dreams'?'
	'You are persistent, English man...'
	'His name is Lucas.' Cammy's voice was perfect
in it's electrocution, it's sweetness and delicacy
raised my gloved hands and I proceed to remove the black
leather gloves from them. My hands were whiter then the
purest snow, they always are, the veins constantly
bulging. I slowly closed my hands, letting myself touch
Lucas' dreams, I felt something but I was forced out.
Lucas was sitting slightly more tense on his chair.
	'I understand now,' he nodded slowly. He nodded
slowly. He had a strong soul. Cammy reached out to touch
my hands, I let her soft skin touch my hands. She looked
from my hands to me, 'they are so soft!'
	'Tell me something, why are you dressed in
costume, em Cammy?' It was sort of blackmail but she
smiled, her full red lips so enticing, 'Old habit,
Mister...?' she was looking for my name.
	'My name, Cammy, is Matthew Hewlock.'
	'Well, Matthew, I hope we get on well together.'
She shook my pure white hands from the touch of my
dreaming hands, I was surprised she showed no shock from
the touch of my dreaming hands. I replaced the gloves on
them.
	'Well Mr. Hewlock, that was some blast, it was so
strange' the English man seemed to have recovered. His
gloved hands relaxed on the armchair.
	'Lucas, it was not a mental attack, something
totally different,' for the second time one of the men at
the windows spoke.
	The man in the shadows, in his black trench coat
stepped forward into the light of the lamp. His face was
so well defined, he wore a fashionable beard, and his red
hair stood directly up, like a long pillar. I stopped
myself from sniggering, but in a way it was not ugly. It
reminded me of those Japanese cartoons I have seen. He
was also extremely tall over 6ft not including his
fantastic hair. He moved towards the door, the same man,
that had spoken at the window, said 'don't move, please.
Darius will arrive soon. I am in contact with him now,'
turn around god damn you, 'he assures me it is very
important you stay.'
	'Why? I don't know who you are or your friend, I
don't know 'Mr. Dreamer' over there and 'English Man'
here, and I've only heard of Cammy in whispers. Why is it
important I remain here?'
	The English man stood up, 'look my friend, I
don't know this Darius, but I do know what is happening.
Please you can't go.'
	'What happened to your 'Madness' English man?'
	'Lucas, please, is my name.'
	'Why should I stay?'
	'Because a Demon has broken through the veil.' 

==========================================================

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