Cyber Hobo

Emerald eyes glint dully in the soft moonlight. He can’t help but sit at the entrance to his cave and watch the silver orb rising into the sky each and every night. As it gets higher and higher, he pulls his head further into the cave, not wanting his burned, scarred face to be visible this night.

He used to be a proud wolf, with midnight fur and eyes that shone with strength. Yes, he had had his share of scars before, but none like this. Now he was something else, something broken and wretched. His fur was all but gone, seared away in whatever conflagration that had covered his body with thick scar tissue. Here and there a forlorn patch of black fur somehow survived between the knotted tissue. His ears were tattered nubs, most of their shape having been lost to the flames, his eyes no longer shone with strength, they were simply dull and dead. He was little more than a walking corpse at this point, struggling to hold onto the flimsy scraps of life that were left to him.

He whined pathetically and closed his eyes, the light from the moon getting to be too much for him. He was dying, he knew that much, his heart was just as broken as his body and the poison from the slowly rotting organ was seeping into the rest of his body, corrupting and destroying.

He felt the moonlight on his face and swallowed back the bile that rose in his throat. Unable to shift out of the light without getting up anymore, he slowly rose to his feet, his legs shaking painfully, and hobbled deeper into the cave, pain shooting through his body. The hard stones at the entrance of the cave had opened up some of the scars on his chest, letting hot blood leak down his legs. As he wandered aimlessly to the back of the cave, he left bloody paw prints in his wake. It had happened before and it would happen again. He rose every evening to watch the moon come up, even though it caused him more than just physical pain.

Eventually he came to the filthy, pathetic den at the back of the cave and flopped down onto the soiled furs that served as his bed. There was more than a little dried blood on them already and the leaking wounds on his chest only added another layer as he curled into a ball, his scarred, hairless tail snaking over his muzzle. He tried to resist the call of sleep, but his body was tired and eventually he slipped into unconsciousness, fear of the dreams that would come making his body tremble.

In his dreams he ran through the forest atop his mountain home, in his dreams he was whole and unmarred by the seeping burns. The dreams were pleasant for a time but then… then they shifted into something more akin to memories. He had just made a kill, a mountain goat, a species common here. He had just settled down to feed, his muzzle full of hot blood that steamed gently in the cool evening air.  That was when she had appeared. Her coat was as white as moonlight and shimmering just the same. He was shocked, surprised, he had never seen another wolf before. He didn’t even know how he had ended up on top of the mountain in the first place. Only that there was no way down.

She was beautiful. He had sat there, stunned, as he watched her get closer and closer. instinct kicked in then and he carefully pulled the goat’s heart out and placed it on the ground next to him. A clear invitation for her to join him at his feast. She approached carefully and lay down next to him, her snowy flank touching his midnight paw as she leaned down and licked the bloody organ.

The scarred wolf sat up quickly, coughing up blood onto the furs. The dreams always came, no matter what he did. Tears streamed down his face, mixing with the blood on the furs. It never got any better at all. He cursed himself again and again, cursed his foolishness, cursed his naivete and his inexperience. There was nothing left for him anymore, nothing but memories and shadows. He longed for death to sneak up on him and take the pain away and yet… it never did, he just clung on for dear life, unable to let go, unable to throw himself off of the mountain, too scared to take his own life. He was a coward, he knew it. If he had any strength he would just do it, release himself from the pain of his broken body.

He hobbled over to the natural basin in the corner of the den, where water dripping from the top of the cave collected, and drank as much as his scorched throat would allow. When he lifted his head he watched drops of blood swirling lazily in the water. He was close now, nature would do what his cowardice could not. There was no use for a creature that had no purpose in life.

Something new for you guys, hope you enjoy it.

A sharp pain on the back of his head brought Nick to the brink of awakening, several more eventually got him to open his eyes. The room was dark and silent save for the hum of the AC unit behind him. As usual, the first thing he noticed was the tearing sensation in his chest and the fact that he was hugging a pillow. With a pained groan he rolled over, untangling his legs from the duvet in the process. He fully intended to go back to sleep, the only thing that seemed to make the pain go away. There was something movie next to his head though, a small figure, little more than silhouette thanks to the light behind it and his abominable eyesight. Thinking that somehow the pain had found a way to follow him into his dreams, he fumbled on the shelf behind him for his glasses. Confusion reigned as he got them onto his face.

Before him, well, before his head, stood a tiny replica of himself, looking smug and annoyed at the same time. “Damn, you sleep like a rock…” The tiny replica said with a scowl. “Took five kicks in the head before you even realised that something was happening.” Nick sat up and shook his head, wondering again if he was still asleep. “What the fuck…” The miniature shook his own head. “Isn’t it obvious?” When the taller Nick shook his head the smaller one sighed in a defeated way. “Okay, let me explain. You’ve had a nervous breakdown and I am the result, simple, right?” Nick groaned and flopped back down. “It’s too early to even think about dealing with this right now.” The miniature growled and kicked him again. “Early!? Early!? Are you fucking kidding me!? It’s seven in the evening, arsewipe!” The figment jumped off of the bed and onto the side table, stamping hard on the light switch to turn it on. “Up and at em, soldier, we have personal revelations to get to and very little time in which to do it.” Nick groaned and rolled over. “This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening… I’m not crazy… I promise…” The figment jumped back onto the bed, using the springy mattress to bounce him up onto his unwitting creator’s head. “Look, buddy, I’m only going to ask nicely one more time… I’m you, so I’m guessing you can figure out what’s going to happen after that…”

Nick sat up, dislodging the figment as he did. “Look, fuck off, I’ve got enough problems right now without my mind going all wonky… so just… go back to wherever you came from.” He slid off of the bed and got up, slipping into the bathroom to take care of his morning ablutions. “Ugh, if feels like something small and furry took up residence in my mouth last night… and used the facilities before leaving…” The figment rolled his eyes from his newfound perch on the sink. “That’s hardly surprising considering the amount you drank last night, hells, I can feel the hangover from here… stupid sot.”

Nick swiped at him and proceeded to brush his teeth. Of course this had no effect whatsoever and the figment just snickered at him as it hid behind the tap. Spitting some toothpaste into the sink, Nick looked at the annoying little pest and resisted the urge to poke him with the toothbrush. “It’s one of the few things that dull the pain in any way…” He stopped frowned. “Why the hell am I talking to you? I thought I told you get out of here… shoo… piss off… seriously, this is the last thing I need.” The figment chuckled softly, well, your mind has broken and I’m the… thing that’s been created in an attempt to fix whatever caused this break.” Nick scowled and pushed out of the bathroom, heading back to bed. “What caused this… “Break” can’t be fixed. If you’re me then you know this.  So bugger off and leave me alone…” He was about to flop back into bed when he noticed his cell sitting on the side table, so instead he sat on the edge of the bed and opened it.

A pained sigh escaped his lips as his background sent a fresh wave of pain coursing through his body. A pretty young woman smiled up at him from the screen, crouched in front of some sort of museum display, smiling happily. It took all he had not to hurl the phone across the room. He wasn’t sure why he kept it, maybe a sense of connection to something lost. The figment hopped onto his leg and looked at the screen. “Man, you’ve got it bad… Why do you keep torturing yourself like this?” Nick sighed again and put down the phone, picking up a smoke instead. Lighting it, he sucked in a deep breath then blew out a long streamer of smoke. For a second he twitched guiltily and looked back at the bed, expecting to find someone very angry there. There was no one. Once again a fresh wave of pain rolled over him. “Well, I guess that’s one thing I don’t have to worry about anymore…”  The figment had similarly lit a tiny smoke. “Yeah, maybe, but the fact remains that you WANT to worry about it…”

Nick couldn’t dispute that fact so he just nodded glumly. “Yeah, I’d give if up in a heartbeat if it meant getting her back…” He fell back onto the bed and looked at the ceiling. The figment made himself comfortable on a pillow. “You know, you’re gonna have to get over her sometime… You fucked that up badly, nothing you ever do is gonna make her come back to you.” Nick tried to hold back the tears but there was no way that was going to happen, so he just let them flow for a time before wiping them away and sitting up. “I feel like such a girl when this happens… But I guess I’m getting exactly what I deserve, right?” He looked at the figment who just shrugged. “Can’t say one way or the other, you were a complete and utter dick to her, so on one hand I guess you do, on the other hand, you changed a lot in the shirt time since then so… ” He shrugged helplessly. “Look, just get up, put some clothes on and get back to work, that book isn’t going to write itself…”

Nick nodded, having no idea as to why he was following the orders of this made up little creature, still if he thought about it… it was nice to have someone to talk to, even if it was himself. He got up and pulled on some clothes before stepping out into his work room. For a second he expected a smiling face to look up from the laptop at him, but the room was empty and dead. He was expecting it when it came but the force of the ripping sensation in his chest nearly knocked him to the floor. He veered to the left and opened the fridge, taking out a beer and opening it in one swift motion, nearly downing the entire thing in one long pull.

He got out a few more before sitting down at the laptop, the figment appearing on the desk next to him and sitting on the carelessly dropped cell. “You know, this wasn’t your liver’s fault… just saying.” Nick growled and swatted at him again before opening another beer and giving it a taste of what he’d done to the first one. “No, but maybe if I drink enough I’ll be able to function for a while… at least long enough to get a few pages done without starting to craft characters around her…” The figment watched him nervously, unsure of what to do. This was going to be a lot harder than he thought. “Man… you are… broken in just about every single way, arn’t you…”

Nick didn’t answer, just opened Word and began typing as if he could somehow bleed the pain in his chest out onto the page through his fingers.

And that’s it for now, hope it was a good read. Later.