When I was a child, I stared at the world map in
fascination, wondering what every human being in the
world was up to. Some may be eating, living their
regular lives. Going to school, work or helping out an
individual. Some may be killing, stealing or even doing
worse. More sins came to mind of all the things I could
think of. I used to stare at the countries and contents,
feeling as if the world was less significant than the island
I had lived in. I thought the world had been fully
explored but understood only the seas' borders were
explored entirely and not the land itself.
McDune was staring off into the distance, wondering
such thoughts as a gentle breeze skimmed the hairs on
his face. Holding a little girls hand with cold fingers. The
girls' warm hand he clasped on to, with worry as they
overlooked a scene of dead bodies on a grassy hilltop.
It was a clear sky that day. Not a cloud in sight and the
warm rays of the sun hit his face reminding him of
summer. It was like this sick world that they had lived in
showed them the most peaceful and blissful scene they
could ever hope to witness. However, it wasn't, the
hilltop was littered with snowdrops and all painted red
on the battlefield. Humans and demons slaughtered each other, the humans mainly being at fault. Who was it that
convinced humans that demons were devils? That all
they thought and did was evil? McDune understood this
better than anyone as he was once a human.
"Papa, I don't like this smell, can we go home?"
"Orla… This… What you see here is our world. Do you
He felt her hand tighten. McDune a slightly short man
with 21 years to his age and slight facial hair, his hair
blended in with the snowdrops and wore a brown
poncho-like cloak with two pointed studs the same
length as his head. All he loved in this world was Orla.
His adopted daughter. He relied on her and protected her,
more so than his own self.
She was six, although young she was wise for her age
minus the nïeveity of a child, which was expected from
any child. Her hair was almost white. Mainly reflecting
the sun's light, her hair at the roots started as hazel, blond
than white and the pattern ended as hazel at the tips of
her long hair. Her eyes red, she was a banshee and a
scorched and had scars of horns under her hairline. She
wore a pink woollen poncho with a thick collar around
her neck. Her skin was pale and had rosy red cheeks with
freckles the most adorable little girl anyone could
"No papa, I don't understand please I don't like seeing,
sniff I… I"
"Do you like our world? Where men get slaughtered,
children get robbed and women- do you like it!!!"
McDune never lifted his voice at Orla for something she
had done. One time she was playing with an ember at the
end of a stick and pocked McDune in the eye with it
while he was resting. He almost went blind.
"N… No… sniff. Papa"
As McDune answered, he transformed into his demonic
form. He was a Jinn with wings that covered the span of
fifty men lined up together.
He had tusks like an orc and horns of a bison.
were black as obsidian and sharp just as so and to make
him look more like a freak he had the tail of a
rattlesnake. To make it all the worse he towered in hight.
Three men tall and was considered huge even among the
'Iftreet', 'Shayateen' and the other Jinns. Not that he has
ever seen a fellow Jinn. He never changed to this form,
but the world knew who he was. 'McDune The Terrible'
He hated his name but could only remember his last
name and not his first.
"When will you come back?" Orla whined to him.
"I don't know, but I won't be gone for long, come, I'll
take you to Justina. You'll stay there until I come back,
are you okay with that?"
He lifted her from the wrist like a doll and held her close
his chest, wiping the tears from her face as he smiled.
"Yay! 'Miss Tina'! She makes the best oat milk."
She quickly forgot that they were in the middle of a field
of armoured corpses.
"Hahaha, she does?"
He extended his wings, and with brute strength, he
launched in the air toppling over a few bodies under him
from the gust of wind he let off.
A year before the dream.
A cold dark evening struck when the sun had set on a
typical wet day of November in Ireland.
cycling home after a long day touring around the city.
Finding a job was difficult. Even for someone young and
healthy, it was hard to find an employer insisting on
hiring. He worked as a bicycle courier; this job wasn't
half bad. Making money while cycling around the city
was fun and addicting at times, but it didn't make him the
money he needed. He was Living With his Afghani
mother as a single child, and Irish father, which he was
away at a trip to England for the weekend. He wasn't a
rich by all means but had enough to take care of himself
and not financially strain the family as for his father he
He never really did anything and relied
on the dole for income, which annoyed McDune as he
felt his family was almost useless to society.
As he was fighting an uphill on the way home, his
stomach growled and remember he hadn't eaten anything
since lunch and stopped by a store to buy sandwiches
and a protein bar. As he stopped, he locked his shiny
black and white road bike to a stop sign on the corner of
a storefront. As he made his way, he saw a couple of
shady looking individuals disputing over something
quietly but ignored their presence as any person would
do. He didn't wish to involve himself in something that
could lead to trouble.
McDune walked in, and an Indian shop keeper greeted
him with a bright warm smile as he was dealing with a
customer. McDune felt slightly insecure about his
overwhelmingly giant cuboid bag on his back. He was
afraid he might knock something over which rarely
happened. Scanning through the selection of sandwiches,
tuna and mayo caught his eye at the fridge as well as a
bottle of orange juice. He didn't wish to blow his money
on such luxuries, had water left over from the bottle he
used for work cycling. The protein bars were next to the
till and spotted a new flavour of protein bar that piqued
his interest. They were all the same price anyway so the
limited edition one couldn't hurt. Or what about the
original he thought, people always say how good they
are, and he never buys food from outside. He always eats
his mothers cooking or takes some out for lunch. Today,
however, he'd forgotten and was disappointed in himself.
McDunn made his way out of the store excited for the
meal he was going to have and looked forward to the
vanilla ice cream flavoured protein bar he went for. He
usually sat on a curb or a bench to eat his food as people
stared, but he didn't mind as he was used to it. Walking
out the store, one of the men bumped into his left and
McDune heard an abrupt bang to his left. He didn't
realise what had happened as he looked to his left to see
one of the individuals with a Glock drawn towards the
man who'd bumped into him. Smoke poured out of the
gun and looked at the man to see if blood was seeping
out of him. Only a burnt hole tattered through his shirt
had gone through, and the man looked at McDune in
"You idot! What the FUCK!!" the young man launched
passed the man with the gun with more gunfire following
him as he ran for his life.
The two men disappeared at a
moment’s notice while the wails and screams of the
pedestrians let out.
McDune collapsed to the ground like a sack of flour and
realised to the left of his chest a hole was severed right
through the other end. The bullet made its way entirely
through his torso and felt drowsy as he began to bleed
out intensely. A strange light appeared in the far distance
and the night began to turn into a late afternoon daytime.
It was a strange sense of sleepfulness and wakefulness.
He thought he would die, but from what his mother had
told him, the angel of death did not show up.
As McDunn, a young man at the age of 20 gets shot at a storefront coming home after work. After losing too much blood and loses consciousness, a strange dream occurs which causes the world of reality and the world of dreams to switch places.