Still Workin' Out Some Kinks In The Timeline So Far.

fun fact about me: I don't usually classify my emotions as happy or sad; that's just to oversimplify what I feel.

my emotions are colors and shapes, with textures every once in a while. very rarely do they have tastes, though.

yes it gets very confusing. example: tried whole grain bread for the first time when I was around 13 years old and felt grey-ish lime green smooth almost non-euclidean trapezoid.

After my daily dose of annoying Max, I put in my earbuds and play some lo-fi, while unconsciousness slowly wraps me up in her sweet imbrace.

…

"Your time is almost at hand, son.

Play your part well."

…

I wake up in a cold sweat, paralyzed with fear. I don't know why, but I feel like something big is gonna happen soon. That voice… where do I know it from?

What did I dream about again?

Regardless, I find the strength to get out of bed. I'll need some water after… whatever just happened.

I look around to try to find the clock. It's two in the morning.

"how many drops are here in this pool surrounding me?"

"...too many to count."

"that's alright. it still tastes all the same to me."

"may i drink?"

"only if you're willing to drown with me in my hate."

"aye, i can do that. as long as it's you."

"then come, drink. for the bottom of this pool has no bottom, and my hate may run forever."

"then why, pray tell, would you cease your life to stop such a beautiful drink?"

"stay and drink my endless hate... i'll tell you while you sate your thirst."

"aye, i can do that. as long as it's you."

no I will not translate my made-up languages for you.

suffer.

A lot of my characters in my books are inspired by music. The vibes the music encapsulates within itself is one of my main sources of character ideas.

So if you ever read a work of mine and get the vague feeling that you want to listen to Camelia or Tally Hall, now you know why.

Yeah.

yeah, i'm letting him out tomorrow. have fun.

syloboy can be a bit excitable around new people, so be warned.

YA KNOW WHAT

i'm gonna let him on.

spoiler alert: i am not syloboy. i simply use his name. but i'll let the real syloboy on in a while.

@the-arcade-doctor thanks for the motivation to make me choose this course of action.

I head down the road to the taller building, hoping there's another big road headed to the smaller one down the way. as I walk, I try to keep my distance from any alleyways. I don't want that monster coming back for me anytime soon.

actually, I start to think. just where did that thing go?

I look around, trying to spot either the large-mouthed creature, or the timid kid in the crowd or in the alleys. as I turn to look in front of me again, I hear a loud boom, followed by people moving away from the sound.

but, oddly enough, they didn't run, or even seem scared.

but then, the people in the front started to scream and yell, telling everyone to run. I heard something about "the glowing fox" happening.

I force my way through the fleeing crowd, trying to get a glimpse of what this "glowing fox" could be.

but as I get closer, I see a glimpse of a young man that's tearing people apart. I look down at the floor and see scattered limbs and broken bodies littering the ground. there's so much blood that I can't see the ground.

I look back up and see the man right in my face, grinning ear to ear.

"why HELLO THERE! and WHAT made you THINK that approaching me IN THIS state, was a SMART THING to do?"

I stood there, stunned.

the man I saw tearing into people just moments ago in a frenzied rush was now right in front of me, and trying to converse with me.

"OH, you're not one to TALK, ARE YOU? YOU seem a little SHOCKED at MY THIRST FOR fun right NOW. well NO MATTER, I'LL HAVE some FUN WITH you instead."

the man swiped his arm at me.

I could barely see him move.

but somehow, I ducked under his attack.

the man looked down at me as I looked up at him.

"oh. those eyes. I WON'T BE ABLE TO SURVIVE this, WILL I?"

won't be able to survive? what is this guy saying?

but before I knew it, he swiped his right arm at me. I didn't even see him move. I should be dead.

but then why am I now at a distance from him? did I dodge that attack again? but how?

the man kept grinning. that put me off. if he was going to die like he said he would, why was he so damn happy?

the man lunged at me. but this time I could see it. I grabbed onto his arm as he came in for another swipe and tried to sidestep his attack, throwing him off balance.

but when I flung my arm to try to throw him, he went flying into a nearby building, almost breaking the wall down.

did I do that? I looked down at my hands in awe. do I really have that much strength?

the man got up and laughed. "NOW THIS is a FIGHT!"

the man lunged again. I could see everything clearly now. his momentum. his steps on the ground. his arm winding up for a horizontal slash. his breathing. his eyes.

…his eyes.

his eyes had a slight glow to them. I don't know how I couldn't see it earlier, but his eyes looked colorful. they had this orange color swirling in them… wait, no. it's a combination of orange, red, yellow, and green. yes, I'm sure those are the colors. they're swirling in his eyes. swirling and swirling, dancing to a rhythm that isn't a rhythm, a song that can't be heard, a beat that can't be felt.

he's getting closer, but I don't care. those moving colors are so beautiful. his arm is close. his smile is too wide. but those patterns look so mesmerizing. his arm is almost at my stomach. those swirling colors are majestic.

I don't know how long it happened for, but it felt like forever. his arm swiped across my stomach for so long. I felt no pain from it. I reached out to grab his eyes. to try to have those beautiful colors for myself.

my arms reached out. they were fast compared to how slow everything was moving. I grabbed his eyes. I pulled them out. there was no blood. only two dark holes.

I looked down at my hands. at the eyes they held. there were no colors anymore. his eyes didn't hold them.

the man collapsed to the floor as time sped back up to normal.

everyone around me looked at me in shock. some in horror.

the man grabbed my leg and said "please. please give me back my eyes. I need them." the holes that were once his eyes had finally started bleeding. the crimson red streaks flowed down his face like tears, begging me to return what I had taken.

but his eyes had lied to me. their colors had disappeared.

the tundren (race name subject to change).

there lives a race of creatures not quite in the syloverse.

they are akin to dreamwalkers, as they don't exist. however, they do not belong to naochtren.

they speak in tunes, singing their language not in words, but in emotions and images.

their race is a simple one. they travel the syloverse, telling stories they see and sharing emotions they feel.

they need not eat nor drink; they need only interaction with another.

they feed off of—and share—emotions. if they are alone for too long, they dissapear. they call this phenomenon "the empty"; when devoid of emotion, they fade away, crumble to dust, etcetera. although the method varies, the end result is the same. none of them know where they go after the empty.

as such, they are a very social people, requiring interaction and emotion not only to keep their race alive, but to tell the stories of the syloverse to future generations.

they are the timekeepers.

the only interaction they have outside of themselves is that of the hooded figure. due to his power, he can see, hear, and somewhat interact with them.

he listens to their stories, and occasionally tells them his own.

I have a love/hate relationship with my writing.

I can be making something that I think is the funniest shit I've ever come up with, and then the very next combination of words I happen to conjure into existence makes me say "what the fuck am I doing" out loud.