The Book of Dreams

Creative Content Literature
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cough renner cough

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yummy

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needs more blood (for the blood god)

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perfect
edit:
I think the monsters Ghid was experimenting with in BoR were Dreamers

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I’m hungry Ghid release the next chapter

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i’m beginning to feel the same. only, i thirst for the blood of renner.

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no Ghid not yet finish the secret Santa mocs

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gasp
it’s The One To Trust
Edit:
also I think the reason Photez wrote on the wall was because in BoL Ghid replaced Monopoly’s arm with Chronicler’s arm, and the black flesh mentioned is similar to Chronicler’s skin

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Ch 18

–

Chapter 19

–

So, let’s see.

It’s extremely dark right now, and I’m trying to get the order of events in my head correct so I don’t mislead you. There was… No, that came after. Actually maybe it would be better if I try telling you what happened and fixing it as I go along.

The first part I remember clear as crystal, ringing through my ears like a single, horrible note, because Ghid had suddenly straightened his spine and taken one step towards the weird Sonus whatever thing. Diero’s revolvers rang out then, and the eldritch entity’s eyes exploded into clouds of black smoke, but this only seemed to make him angrier, as he descended towards Renner and hissed out some angry noises in retort. That was when the large, circular beam in the ceiling hit me-

No, wait. So much happened in between there, I’m losing track again. Let me start over.

Ghid gets his eyes shot out by the deadsperado, the name of which I very much love, and then angrily makes noise at Renner, who totally deserved it. And then… Oh, right, that’s when the ceiling was punched in.

By what, you may ask? Oh, tsk, tsk, always with the questions and wanting to find things out. How can I have my fun if I am forced to give away every detail about myself and explain every little inconsequential thing to you? Poets live and die on how quickly you read, and while I am hardly a poet, I must hold on to what little comforts I still possess while intrusive oafs like yourself peek and pry into every little corner of my life.

…And yet, I find it somewhat difficult to proceed without any details. Let’s see: It was punched in by a someone. Yes, a someone falling. From what? Gravity. That’s usually the culprit behind those sort of occurrences.

Now, here is the part where things get a little bit fuzzy in terms of the order. I know the Photez creature tried to get away through the massive hole in the ceiling with Cordax in his grip, but something knocked him back inside. Probably, uhh… Gravity. Oh, right, in between that is when the ceiling beam fell on me and broke the floor a little.

And then… Oh, right, then there was this massive guttural roar, and the entire building caved in on itself. I fell down into the darkest hole in the floor, barely able to dodge a chunk of rubble that went down as well, and the beam nearly fell straight down after me, but I could see the cadaverous cowpoke gripping it with all his strength to keep it from plugging up the hole. Then he must have thrown it pretty far, for suddenly he and the beam disappeared.

More rubble rained down, and as I hit the bottom of the long drop the light was completely snuffed out. There was more rumbling, and then silence for a glorious, uninterrupted one-point-three-one seconds, pure bliss away from all the chaos and stupidity the world had forced me to endure.

I’m very good at counting exactly how long I’m not being annoyed by something.

Then there was a whimper, and a blubbering gasp, followed by panicked breathing interrupted by more blubbering gasps. I felt about for the match Diero had tossed me, and finally striking it on an exposed piece of concrete I could see the source of this horrible noise.

It was Cordax ugly crying about a foot from me.

No, not ugly crying - panic attack. I’m not taking about ‘I’m so socially awkward and I’m gonna freak out about what to do I haven’t had my avocado toast yet boo hoo’ yeah go get a sandwich I don’t care. Actual panic attacks can render nearly anyone completely helpless; it’s like a knife comprised of trauma suddenly stabs you in the lungs and even breathing becomes a horrific experience. I am not one typically bound towards pity, but I have seen the event occur before numerous times and it manages to drag up that drop of empathy I have nestled underneath scabs of irritation and my many bulwarks of deflection.

“Cordax.” I tried desperately to interrupt the process, but there was no opportunity to intervene. He was lost in the pits of agony, the wallowing grounds for those with no character or spine. He would pull himself out soon, but he needed to do that alone. I busied myself for the next five minutes tearing out an exposed piece of carpet and trying rather ineffectively to soak it in a small puddle of oil. I had to light it before I was quite finished, for the match was threatening to retire and move to match Florida and take up match golf with its match pals. I barely managed to get it set, and my estimation was that it would last another five minutes or so, but it likely couldn’t be relied on beyond that point.

I was in the middle of trying to figure out where in the building the oil would have come from when a small whimper from Cordax indicated he was trying to make conversation, and it was in his best interest that I engage.

“It’s my fault.”

“What.” It was a bit rude, yes, but how else was I to maintain my attitude of indifference? Do not lecture me about how this ‘defeats the point’; you don’t know the finer elements of my conversational ability and intellect for these sort of things.

“All of this, it’s… It’s my fault.” He sniffled. “I agreed to go with Monopoly to rescue those people, and now they’re dead, and I don’t know if he killed them, or what’s going on anymore, and now I’m stuck in a hole about to run out of oxygen and it could have been entirely avoided but it wasn’t and this is what I deserve.” He slumped forward to wallow in his own pity.

I was getting angry at this display. “Listen to me.” I leaned forward and grabbed him by the collar with my working arm. “I don’t care how badly you feel about it, or whether or not it’s your fault. You may have killed every single one of those people with your bare hands, but I don’t care!” Cordax’s expression had gotten more horrified as I escalated, reminding me I needed to actually attempt to help him instead of just traumatizing him further. “But you’ll never find out any sliver of the truth of what occurred if you dedicate your time and effort to blaming yourself for every single thing that occurred. Innocent until proven guilty and what not.”

I let him go and began to lean back, but in response he grabbed me by the collar and slammed me against what was now a wall. “No, you listen to me! You’re not going to lecture me on everything that you weren’t even there to witness! You’re not going to act so stuck-up and self-righteous over something you don’t even know about! I was there, I saw everything happen!” His leg getting warm reminded him of the burning carpet, which led to him begrudgingly letting me go and retreating to his ‘corner’ of the hole we were both trapped in. “And it wasn’t just then, either. I’ve been a coward this whole time.”

“How?” I mused, pretending to be uninterested.

Cordax gave me a mean glare with the attitude of someone who has said too much. “Forget it. Is there anything you wanted to discuss?” He clearly wasn’t in the mod to talk, but he wanted a topic shift. “It’s our last moments, after all.”

“I don’t breathe.” I mumbled, glancing at the carpet. It was almost entirely gone, along with the oil puddle. “So it’s technically only your last moments.”

“What a comfort.” Cordax frowned. There was an uncomfortable silence for a few moments before he pulled out his knife and tossed it towards me. “Alright, get it over with.”

“What.”

“I’m not going to slowly lose air and have my last moments of desperation be facing whatever the heck you are.” His voice was solemn, resolved to the choice he had made. “Go on, get it over with. I know you’ve been wanting to.”

“What is wrong with you?” I growled. “No, I think I know the answer to that. You’re a selfish child with no better outlook on the world besides blaming yourself and being useless intentionally. You’ve been thrust into situations greater than yourself and your resolution is to give up the moment anything gets too hard.”

“That’s rich coming from someone who lauded me over my lack of intelligence just a while ago.” He snapped back. “Or is that trust now a positive characteristic?”

“No, that blind, gullible nonsense was still rather inept.” I replied. “It’s the-”

“I guess you were right.” Cordax snapped. “I shouldn’t have been so trusting. I should have just buried the knife in my throat myself rather than trust you to do it. Do you always weasel yourself out of these situations, or is anything greater than yourself too strenuous on your resolution?”

I flipped the knife around and lunged forward. Cordax threw his arms around his face and curled away to avoid the blow, but when he dared to peek out from under them I was on the other side of the hole, glaring at him, extremely tired. “You didn’t really want me to.”

“No.” Cordax sighed bitterly, striking his hand on a loose piece of ruble out of protest. “I’m not strong enough.”

“You’re not weak enough.” I replied. “When faced with monumental pressure, lesser men flake away. But you threw the dice to me instead and let my whim dictate the future. You refused to succumb to the path I chose, and you may have your reasons why. But I know one factor is because of who you are.”

I stabbed the knife into the floor between us, Cordax jumping slightly at the motion. He stared at it for a moment before looking up at me again.

“Why?”

“It’s your knife.” I shrugged. “Your destiny is in your hands. I think you’re strong enough to handle the choice correctly.”

Cordax reached to retrieve it when the carpet went out.

“Welp.” I grumbled, feeling to see if by any chance Diero had tossed me two matches, but he had not. “I would attempt digging out of here, but there’s a risk of this coming down on top of us if I do it wrong. It’s only a matter of time before Diero finds us, I suppose, although I hope he doesn’t do it stupidly. But my hopes aren’t high on that front.”

“Thank you.”

“What?” I responded, my orange eyes locking with the electric blue ones opposite me. “Why? Because I gave you your knife back?”

“Well, that too.” Cordax made a motion, and I heard the knife come loose. “Nobody’s ever really been nice to me before, even if it was a little blunt. And I… I needed that. So thank you.”

I stared at him for probably five seconds in disbelief that nobody had ever been nicer to the kid outside of telling him to suck it up and be a man but slightly more politely than that. “Um… Okay. Sure. Yeah. Um… I guess… Do you uh… Want to know what Renner said?”

“Who’s Renner?”

“The uh, silver guy.” I zipped my coat up a little more. “But you didn’t hear it from me.”

“So he does have a name.” There was a bit of excitement in Cordax’s voice. Evidently he liked gossip as much as the next fellow, although the next fellow might not be remotely nearby since we were trapped in the remains of what was once a very lovely building with a torture chamber. “Okay, what did he say?”

“Well he was talking with the Jethryn guy, the one who was half the man he used to be, and-”

“Dude.” Cordax frowned, his eyes flat. “He literally just died.”

I was about to respond when there was an explosion to my left, and an unkind hand gripped me by the throat and pulled me through the wall. I was back in the artificial daylight, with Diero’s beady eyes glaring down at me.

“Okay, I found him!” He hollered off behind him, where Renner stood on a heap of rubble. “Who next?”

Renner scurried down the pile, writing sloppily as he went. He handed the note he had scribbled to Diero who chomped it to pieces and then stuck his hand into the hole he had pulled me from, dragging Cordax through it. He was lucky my body had enlarged the hole when being dragged through previously so he could fit painlessly.

“Aaaaaaaaand now what?” Diero asked, looking towards his silvery superior who eyed myself and Cordax. “You’re not hurt?”

“Not until the last bit,” I remarked, knocking the loose rubble from the inside of my Akaku. “What the heck happened back there, anyway?”

“Well-” Renner began, but there was another roaring noise which cut him off. He very hurriedly scribbled down some extra lines on a sheet of paper and slammed it into Diero’s hands, then grabbed both Cordax and myself by the collars and began to run.

“This isn’t an answer.” I grumbled, my feet scraping against the ground and Cordax flailing about ineffectively. “Why are we hiking off, exactl-”

I had glanced back at Diero, who was glaring art the paper with incredulity. Above him, there was the silhouette of a giant framed against the sky, towering over any other building in the area. His head turned about, as if searching for something, and upon eating the note Diero flew into a wild rage, crawling up the building’s flaming remains and shouting unintelligible mean things at the giant, who slammed a massive hand against the figure. Oddly enough, Diero fell backwards at the attack, and slammed into and then through the ruinous heap of rubble, falling out of view.

“Okay, that’s an answer.” The giant’s eyes landed on us. “Run faster.”

–

Ch 20

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It’s been 300 years

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yeah okay sonny try being alive that long

I tried many different ways to write this chapter, but all of them fell flat. This is the one that fell the least flat. And at almost a month, I knew I had to just get it over with and make the next one better.

So uh, sorry y’all. I’ll do better with the next one.

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It is done.

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yay another chapter!!
good job ghiddy!!

heheheh
also I think I know who Tott is

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The one to trust is dead?

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Mark.

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…never mind

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I … I just … I’m just … I just … I’m just … just …

really confused

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That’s great and all, winger but I think you’re missing the most important detail.
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My son is awake

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Explain.

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Winger’s so confused he can’t form coherent words

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