Privacy, please

He clawed at the walls, digging his fingers in deep, clinging tight, pulling himself up near the ceiling.

He dared not waste the energy to turn his head over his shoulder, so hissed with all the venom and bile he had, directly at the wall.

A few quick motions, the movement placing strain on other muscles, a relief in itself, and his fingers were digging into a stud, easier to hold him than the plaster and drywall.

Now, now, he could look back and curse and spit at them, relax his grip and focus on invective.

His mouth opened, wide and vibrant, his words vile and blistering his tongue already, perched on his teeth as they were, and blackening, burning the skin around his lips.

Merciless

Please... help me!

I can't!

You have to!

I can't! I CAN'T!

Something... anything!

There's nothing I can DO!

Why won't you help me?

I want to! God, I wish I could do something!

So help me!

I! Can't! Leave me alone!

HELP ME!

Please, god, go away!

HELP!

Just... go! I can't help you!

HELP ME!

Take your time

Ithk was immortal.

So.

Ithk was immortal, but that was all. No wisdom of the ages (not enough ages under the belt). Ithk could not move mountains (other than with patience and a hammer). Ithk would simply go on forever.

So.

Ithk was immortal and needed a hobby. Ithk decided on making stained glass windows. Shaping the frame. Picking the glass. Picking the color. The clarity. It took time, so that was good.

Ithk had no aspirations. Nor inspirations. Ithk worked mostly from still lifes or photos.

So.

Ithk focused on improving skill. More finely shaped frames. More exactingly colored glass. More, more. Planes on the back so as to change the image with the shifting light. Ithk could take the time to hone and refine endlessly.

Ithk was immortal.

So.

So.

Mind Blown Like Glass

He dragged his fingers through his hair, and left furrows along his head.

He pinched and scratched, tugging his flesh like clay.

He broke scabs up, mixing them back in, ignoring how gritty it was making him.

The blood... there was so much blood... and as water on a potter's wheel, it was welcome.

He dug out his bones and broke them to splinters, to better support the delicate structures he wanted.

He pulled himself into the kiln, and hoped he'd done the glaze right this time.

Wide Open Range

He stayed close to the walls, and tried not disturb any of the debris that was everywhere these days. Windows were blocked, boarded up or outright avoided. It was never proven if... it... operated more by sight or sound, but either one seemed able to draw it near.

It made no attempt to disguise it's approach. That always unsettled him.

He'd seen it across town once, drawn by someone else's carelessness. It spotted him immediately, but made no move. It just cocked it's head a little and once it was sure he was frozen in fear and watching... it began stalking whoever had drawn it, impossibly silent for anything of its size.

Unable to move, to breathe, to blink, he could never forget how the thing was able to sneak up on the poor bastard. It was the first and only time he'd ever seen it not just stomp a straight line to it's victim. It was so unusual for it, so perfectly done... he shuddered. It wanted him to know that it wasn't even playing with them.

He felt a warmth on his ear, and his breath caught in his throat.

An Impressed Hero

Why am I here?

What?

I said, why am I here? Why did you bring me here?

We needed your help; I thought that was obvious.

No, that's why you brought SOMEONE here. Why did you bring ME here?

We– what?

Anyone. It could've been anyone else. Out of all existence... why ME?

...

There must be a reason! There are stronger, smarter, BETTER people out there! What made ME the best choice?!

We... we–

WHY DID YOU RIP ME AWAY FROM MY LIFE FOR THIS!?

We– we didn't! We would never!

You did! YOU DID! I had family! A job! I wasn't some lonely orphan or hermit, that no one would miss! Do you understand what you've done to my loved ones? Best case scenario, they think I'm DEAD. Worst case, they think I CHOSE to leave them. That I just ran away to do anything... to be anywhere else that wasn't with them.

But... we...

Who's going to take care of the kids while their mother is working all the time? What's she going to be able to tell them when they ask about their father? I'm not saying there's anything wrong with a single parent family... but they shouldn't have to be one.

...

Are you getting this? I am hoping, PRAYING, that my wife is able to find someone to love her and help raise my kids, and quickly, because I don't believe I'm ever going to be able to go back. And even if I am, when? If your problems could be solved quickly, you wouldn't need ME, now would you?

... I...

Nevermind. Let's just keep going.

Up, Up, Reach Up

The tree grew in the middle of the downs. Not the exact middle, nothing so obviously significant; the fact that it grew at all was enough. After all, nothing else in the downs did.

Things lived in the downs, true enough. But they didn't grow. They ate, slept, killed, died, went through all the motions of life... but nothing aged, nothing got bigger. Whatever they were when it happened, so they'd been ever since. Except for the tree.

The tree flourished. It towered over all else for miles around. It had no competition. Only the desperate even went near it, and they rarely came back.

True, the tree would get hit by every lightning bolt to come down during thunderstorms, but that seemed to mean nothing to it. It shook. It steamed in the rain. It grew.