Multilife Chapter 1
A hooded figure landed on the patio of a very ancient villa. The walls began crumbling down in some places. Somehow, the paintings were still intact and even the bronze plates were readable. The hooded figure passed them without a glance. They walked up the cracked stairs and into a very dusty dining room. Another figure stood on the opposite end of the room, staring into the hearth, eyes distant, as if the small flames brought them to a place no one could follow.
“How long have we been feeding off of the same trauma?” they asked.
“Far too long,” was the response they got. Although they both knew it was the truth, it wasn’t what they wanted to hear. A few more figures joined the dining hall.
“We need to do it again,” one said.
“We all know, but we’ve run out of ideas.”
The figure near the fire turned his head. “Why do we need a new idea? Why not just start over again and throw everybody together?”
The gathered people whispered frantically about the idea. “Wouldn’t that mean some of the curses will be broken?” one asked.
“Yes,” said the person near the fire, “but it will add to the taste; one will go due to the curse, and the others will think they have a fighting chance. It will give hope, but paranoia as well. What if the curse was on them now? What if they’re next? What if—”’
A voice interrupted: “All I hear are what ifs. Not really any concrete ideas. I don’t think we can feed off of this much longer, and we do need something else. I hope you’re right about your idea. If you’re not, we’ll feed off of you.”
One by one the figures left the dining hall; some took to the skies, others dispersed in the many dusty rooms. A few even left for the cellars, trying to find any leftovers from a feast they had months ago. None would be found, but it was worth checking at least. Eventually, it was only the first two figures left.
“You know what? Screw it. I know my idea will be good. I don’t care if the others doubt it. It will work.” The figure by the fire got their zoned out look again. “I know it will work. I just have to find a way to fit it all in.” They mumbled more to themself than to anyone else. “You figure it out. You’re the one in charge of the twists. Do it fast!” The hooded figure walked back to the patio. This time he did stop to look at the paintings. A woman holding a scythe, a full moon behind her. A man with stars in his hair. Another covered in sunlight. And then the figure's favorite: a man overlooking a storm of comets raining down on the world. He didn’t really like the painting; he just liked the taste that one brought.
They walked back to the patio and took off into the starry night sky — a sun behind them, a moon in front of them, and looking out for comets along the way.
