How often is it that people wake up in the strangest of situations? Not often I’d assume because if it were so prevalent then being boring is the one that should be considered unordinary. And yet… Imagine for the last score or so, you’ve lived a perfectly peaceful and mundane life after not the most enjoyable events in childhood but you thrived and all of the sudden you sit in a box held up by rusted chains in a dimly lit space with a humanoid man floating over you. Can you even call it a man? Jesus.

You blink once, maybe twice to see if your mind is playing any tricks but no here we are. The strange figure laughing over you, the chirping sounds from his throat turning guttural, bouncing off every plane of the wall. Elevating your heartbeat until it was the only thing left you could hear. My blood rushes in my ear as I come to decide if I am scared or not. 

I don’t move. If I move the chains might decide not to carry my weight and I may fall to my imminent death because what is under me greatly resembles a bottomless pit. I’ve pinched myself once and twice to see if I was hallucinating but no. I am in my birthday suit. In a box held up by chains linked to a nonexistent ceiling and a bottomless pit waiting to swallow me. I don’t want to die. Who in great hell wants to die? We all die but this is a horrible way to die. But dear god if you’re real do not let me die. Let me die after natural causes not unnatural ones. In my books this is not perceived as normal. This is unnatural. Not a natural way to die. So with that argument I shall not die. I simply can’t, it’s too weird. Cannot be explained. So I will live.

“You think an awful lot. Much like your mother there aren’t you, little hatchling?” a voice said filled with amusement and delight. Someone is speaking. Who in God’s name is speaking?

My eyes shoot up and take in the sight of the man that is not a man yet somehow a man. No arms, just wings, his face hidden in a mask and everything else on him is dark and black. Strangely standing out in the darkness of the room. Or a cave. Or whatever this place is supposed to be.

A man with no arms, just wings, floating over me. 

… 

HUH?

“Is it really that much of a revelation, hatchling? It is not as if it is the first you’ve seen something take flight and remain in the sky?” How passive-aggressive. I can be passive aggressive too.

“H-” What do I say? “On the contrary, it is my first time seeing a mutated… freak just flying up and above and speaking to me as if they were a regular person and this is just another walk in the park.” And I am replying to it. I am taking this well, far too well. Why am I taking it well?

“A mutated freak? How rude. Did your Aunt not teach you any manners? Well… that would not be news to me, considering what a spectacle your mother was.” My mother? What is he talking about? Does he know my mother? For one my mother was a lunatic not a freak. What? No. I shouldn’t say that. Wait. No. Backtrack. Did he just insult Aunt Amettie?

“For your information, Aunt Amettie raised me very well. I have no vices, never been arrested, remained a valuable individual in our community and I am well-liked at work. People would even say I lit up the room whenever I walked in. And if I were to guess, if  I get murdered that is what the people I know would say in the documentary about me.” Why am I explaining myself to him? I should just shut up.

“Lit up the room? Oh you did. You do. This croissant would not be as bright as it is without you.” Croissant? This is a croissant?

“A croissant? Delightful piece of bread is it?” It chuckles. From up above to directly to my face, he stared at me curiously. Strange beady eyes, myself reflecting in them. Terrified.

I look terrified. But I don’t feel scared… At least… I think I’m not?

“You're Not? Well, aren’t you your mother’s son? A being with no fear. Well… Mortals she did fear. Mortals have caused countless things to happen, in our world and others. Such great, deep, dark desires. Most that even I, cannot begin to fantasise.”

My mother? Why does it keep going on and on about my mother? Please shut your speaking hole about my mother. My mother is none of your concern and any other discussion of her from this point on is making me extremely uncomfortable please stop. 

I should say that. “STOP TALKING ABOUT MY MOM!” That’s not what I was going to say but it sends the message. Right?

“Indeed it does.”

At least he has some sense in him.

.

.

.

A very uncomfortable silence comes to pass and the freaky freak just floats around without a care in the world and I just remain in the same spot I’ve been since I’ve risen from my temporary death. Not like I can leave because I’m just surrounded by air and the pending sense of death.

“Do you want to leave this place?”

Oh. No. This is the most comfortable space I-OF COURSE I WANT TO LEAVE. “Yes. Please let me out.”

“I’ll heed. No need to yell little hatchling.”

“I wasn’t yelling.” 

I feel severely judged because I know for a fact that this whatever it is just rolled its eyes at me. 

The thing dramatically floated down to the coffin, the chains that held me up seemed to not feel any of its weight but somehow it felt inexplicably heavy. I felt as if something sat on my chest and cut off my air. It stared down at me. Beady, dark, empty eyes through the mask. Or is it its head? I really can’t tell.

“Hold on tight. It’s a long drop hatchling.” A long what?

No words were spoken by the next breath but all that could be heard was my imminent demise. I am dead.

Falling to my death but the ending is I am dead.

.

.

.

Holy shit I am not dead.

…

But I am bare bummed in front of a crowd of people, still sitting in my comfy velvet coffin, coming through the ceiling but the ceiling has no holes. There is no debris. Where did I come from? Why am I here? How am I not dead? Thank goodness I am not dead but what…IN THE EVERLOVING FUCK JUST HAPPENED.

Quite a scene before me, people seemingly fresh out of the victorian, renaissance, edwardian , rococo, baroque, mediaeval or whatever era stare in shock as my bones shake out of my flesh. They look fancy and very shiny while I am again as naked as a wee baby. I am severely underdressed for whatever event is taking place. I should take my leave but why am I here in the first place? WHERE THE FUCK AM I?

I mustered up as big a voice as I could, “Hello?” That was tiny but they heard me. The collective gasps told me as much. They whisper amongst themselves sparing me curious glances as their paper white faces struggle to stone their emotions to a single expression. “Hello?”

“What is the meaning of this? Who dares disturb our peace?!” a shrewd high pitched voice sounded from the crowd. They part to make a walkway, directly opening a path towards me. A woman adorned in gold and jewels more than I could count walks angrily, every step emphasising her dismay. “What…What in Rubaine’s name?” she gasps, looking back at the people then to me. “GUARDS!” She barked, and a troop came marching in forming a fine line between me and everyone else, hands on what I assume are swords, ready at her command.

“Name yourself. Reveal your intentions.” Well… She talks fancy. I can do that too.

‘I think that’s the least of your problems hatchling.’ What the fuck. It’s the mutant. Raspy, dripping with boredom and mischief. I hear his voice but where is it coming from? ‘I am confident that you’ll learn what you must when time sides with you. But at this very moment this young maiden is going to order for your immediate execution. It will serve you well to plead for your mortality.’ What-THIS LADY IS GOING TO KILL ME?! WHY?!

‘Not a clue. You weren’t doing anything that may pose harm, yes?’ NO??? I WAS JUST SITTING IN MY COFFIN. ‘Well… Regardless, begin begging. The mortals of this land do love begging. Odd but who am I to say what is odd.’

“One last chance. Who are you and what are you doing here?!” The lady is yelling. DON’T YELL AT ME.

“HELLO! I DON’T KNOW WHY I’M HERE. I FELL OUT OF THE SKY!” I DIDN’T ANSWER THE FIRST QUESTION. DAMMIT AGAIN. And fell out of the sky? What am I Baby Jesus? Wait-no. Those are Fallen Angels. Maybe this is why I failed World Religion.

“Guards! Seize him. And throw him in the dungeons!” HUH? WHAT? WAIT!

“WAIT! PAUSE! FREEZE!” Any attempt to stop the armoured people was proven futile because they already began cuffing my hands and lifting me up for all to see. These are the wrong thoughts to have at this moment but lord is it embarrassing for the girls to gasp at seeing you. Well I’m sorry but whatever you’re looking at is not for you.

“MY NAME! MY NAME IS-” Not even the first syllable out and they gagged me with fabric. Slumped to the floor and dragged against cold white marble.

“HALT! Priest Rubaine has something to say.” In unison the troops did pause, looking towards where a voice of a woman came from the crowd. The crowd parted once more and two ladies emerged. One in bright red robes and one in armour similar to the knights holding me. Her flaming orange hair was sight to see greatly contrasting the pink of the lady beside her and the blonde of that barked up orders.

“Look at him Arianne, his colour himself tells what a danger he is.” WOAH COLOUR?  What colour?

“Just listen to the Priest.”

“I will not risk our people for you to-”

The people looked uneasy as the blonde and the ginger began to bicker, the cotton candy lady stuck in the middle, with her small voice spoke up, “Princess Adrian, please… I received a message from Lustrous Julias. May I speak?”

The two quiet down almost instantly, stepping back.

Golden hair lady rolled her eyes, defeated, and crossed her arms, “Arianne, stand with her.”

“I was going to.” 

Pinky and Ginger share a look before the former takes a breath and looks me straight in the eyes, green, shiny and pretty. 

“To begin, are you from a world called… Earth?”

Is that a serious question? “Yes… I am from earth… Are you…not from Earth?”

Snake-like whispers surge among the spectators, the lady nearest to me looks back ever so slightly before she releases the tension that keeps her body stiff.

“Welcome to Gemma Flareese, summon.”

Welcome to where?

Am I… high?

Is this what hallucinations feel like? 

The mid length blonde lady and long ginger lady listen intently as the little short pink lady enthusiastically welcomes me to whatever freakshow I was put in. Should I call it a freakshow? Is freakshow offensive? But this is really weirding me out. I’d rather take the lowkey condescending mutant bird man than whatever she is talking about. Summoned chosen one who will save the world or whatever. I don’t remember signing up for the Lord of the Rings franchise. Or was it Harry Potter? Which one had the chosen one again? I don’t know. Whatever.

“Thank you Dear Saint Rubaine, you continue to bless us and guide us, thank you oh so very much.” Now she’s praying.

Now they’re all praying. Hands clasped together thanking a “Saint Rubaine”. I am not familiar with the Saints. I only know Saint Anthony because my neighbour screams “ANTHONY FIND MY MOTHERFUCKING REMOTE! FUCK. SAINT ANTHONY!” who I assume finds lost things. Or maybe he’s just yelling at his son, which is sad if he is.

I wonder what Saint Rubaine patrons over.

Regardless, why are they praying? Should I pray? Would it be disrespectful to pray when I don’t know what I’m praying about? Maybe I should pray… No. No… I’m not going to pray. What would I even pray about?

Saint Rubaine why am I here? 

Was that a prayer? Should I take it back? I should take it back.

I take it back. I don’t know how to pray.

Wait a minute… Is this a cult? Was I kidnapped by a cult? Is the birdman part of the cult? Maybe he’s the god of the cult. Am I getting sacrificed?

“Oh my! I have failed to provide you with a proper introduction. I am Priest Dottir Hassen Rubaine, the High Priest of this Realm Gemma. We are in the Kingdom of Flareese, home of the Great Saint Rubaine and King Loomen Flarin-Ember.” 

…

I did not understand a word.