V (2.2)

87 17 95
                                    


 Bursting into house drenched like a mouse Todor felt alive again. Mihos jumped from the cupboard to greet him, six kilos of orange fur bumping into his sheen. After a moment of kitten affection, the tomcat stopped and stared at the book Todor dropped on the sofa. He observed as Mihos jumped on cushions, curious how would feline react to the strange book. The sense of amusement radiated under his scalp which wasn't entirely his.

 Mihos touched the book with its paw and then jumped away as if the leather cover burned him. The cat puffed his fur and started hissing and growling at it. Then he sneaked closer and sniffed it few times, whiskers bobbing left and right. After few seconds of olfactory exploration, he apparently concluded book was alright and he nuzzled it the same way he did Todor a moment ago.

 "I guess you are friends with my empathic book. Good. I don't want you to piss on it," Todor said amused. He felt satisfaction wash over him from Ezezu.

 Todor got out of his wet clothes, thanking his luck that his house retained the day's warmth. Once he was free of damp fabric and standing in his socks and underwear he rummaged through pockets of his coat salvaging things from the dreadful faith of becoming soggy. While doing that he got the paper cute Morg girl gave him. Cassandra The Morg, why the hell did you gave me your phone number, he wondered, staring at the writing. The paper started getting mushy and the numbers blurry.

 Letting out a loud theatrical sigh he got his phone and typed the number to save it. Instead, his wet cold fingers missed and pressed call. Fumbling with a phone he managed to stop it but not before it sent few rings Cassandras way. He let out a frustrated growl throwing the phone on the sofa. Walking up the stairs he got into fresh dry clothing and a towel to wrap his hair. Once he came back to the living room his phone buzzed. He glanced at it and shook his head, it was a text from Cassandra. It said 'Who is this?'

 With an exasperated smirk, he picked up the phone. He wasn't planning to contact the girl, he really wasn't. But now by mistake, he gave his phone number away. He could just ignore the text and let her think it was a mistake. But that would be rude. At least Todor saw it as rude. He typed: 'It's a guy who asked about Nintendo 64 today. My name is Todor.' Ugh, that is such an awkward thing to say. He thought but pressed send anyway. The phone buzzed after a few seconds. 'Great, I'll save it. Hear you soon.' He slowly put the phone to charge hoping nothing comes from it.

 "Now, let us be a bit criminal," Todor proclaimed to no one in particular. He went from window to window dragging the drapes to hide his living room from any unwanted eyes. Not that storm outside would let anyone spy on him, but he liked to be sure.

 Thunder and lighting raged outside even more furiously. I am glad I am not out there anymore. Hope Mab got home one time. He thought as he pulled the last drape over the window.

 Then he pushed the cupboard a bit so that he can lift the loose board under it. He crammed his hand beneath it and grabbed mind-link stone he hid there. Since he got the thing on the black market he managed to contact few like-minded individuals who he met every Friday in that strange mind shared space.

 He made himself comfortable in the plush armchair and tied the leather cord on which the stone was suspended around his head. He felt a second presence next to Ezezu. The strange presence of the book sent an emotion of inquisitiveness and curiosity his way. Todor reached for that familiar spot that let him jump into shared mind space and embraced it.

 Suddenly he was floating in the clouds. The strangeness of this space was disorienting at first but after a while, he reasoned it was similar to lucid dreaming. You think and it happens. So he thought of a place. Flat granite surface with jagged rocks around. In the center of that surface, a ring of chairs and swords stabbed in the ground behind each. And he was there.

1. Macabre Marmalade (COMPLETED; EDITING)Where stories live. Discover now