You know that terrible feeling you have when you miss someone you love who has passed away? What if the whole rest of the universe felt exactly that way about you? What if it dreaded and feared your passing just as much because of how much it loves you? What if it felt this way about every one of us? indeed every one of its lovely, living creations.

Would you feel sorry for that cold, indifferent universe if you knew this? Would you understand why it has to be so cold and hard?

This is from the 2nd book of a Trilogy I am working on tentatively titled "The UnDone" all rights, copyrights etc. (don't yoink my doobs, man!)
"
What made the Xaos wars most bizarre was the dependency of the combatants on the continued survival of their enemies. Any properly trained soldier who died in battle Finished his journey and would thus bind the UnDone in that place. And any Xaosian who was slain by steel be it Written or Real (from which the tradition of fresh-forged half-Written blades emerged) their deaths would unlesh a flurry of UnDoing which could consume entire villages. For reciprocal reasons suicide was also fiercely suppressed meaning there truly was no escape no matter how miserable everyone became.
"

On the road to shadow'd lands

A platoon of Neverbeens and Kinda-Wasn'ts hunched between 2 boulders guarding the Ntrance to a narrow ravine.

In the trees half-thoughts, third-thoughts  and reasonable thoughts of irrational fractions flitter amongst the branches. A singularly binary forest of black and white bark on narrow bifurcations.

The Neverbeens were almost hunger incarnate, if they were anything at all. So that wasn't what was bothering them. Glorc, the Kinda-Wasn't in charge of this whole mess eyed the Neverbeen leader. Malloc the Implacable. Malloc was too calm. The wound beneath his shoulder was ugly but he would most likely survive it. He knew something but Neverbeen often gave that impression. Children of the Void usually had insight others lacked.


Glorc could sense the lingering energy from the Traveler which had crossed the nearby ford a day earlier. Like deep sockets cut in stone, the Travelers bootprints were still empty where his (or her) UnHoly Flesh had touched the stream. Water swirled and swished around the foot and leg shaped impression rather than become violated by such an alien force tho that had begun to fade and the shapes were becoming slowly less distinct.

Not even a small army of Daemons cared to face a being of such potency. Glorc had initially decided to wait until the footprints had faded completely but something that kinda-wasn't wasn't known for patience. The forceful decision itched at Glorc's natural uncertainty in a manner not all that different from the ring of binding on his finger which Bound him to his charge. Glorc considered briefly whether he could pit the 2 determinations against each other but the ring gave such a nasty pinch at just that moment he gave up the thought immediately.

A short skip down the hill and Glorc dipped a fore-talon into the stream and tasted the Travelers energy again. Something amiss, Glorc's inability to count or focus clearly on material images were compensated for by occasional momentary Omniscience. 2 of them! 2 Travelers!  A hiss went up from his underling who caught a wiff of the thought.

This had to be reported to the Baastion!

Fiersome forces

The Blazing Eye of Ra has driven Tlaloc from the sky but not before being forced to yield this section of the day to the haze cloak of Lugaldemarinkia.

The panoply of ocher-haired audience shifted excitedly as we emerged from the tunnels and corniced seam work buildings.

Math and magix

Frank, the self-aware mathematical construct, had stopped by briefly for a cup of T and to visit; perhaps to simply pass the space.

I knew Frank from my brief and unpleasant eternal damnation to a frozen hell-rock in the vacuum of space. He and a few other penetrated the slight gravity well of my prison asteroid and helped to keep me sane through my (nearly) endless voyage.

Today Frank seemed worried. Perhaps some mathematician was challenging an axiom or assumption upon which he was proven. I don't really know, Frank and I never spoke of such things. Maybe for a self-perpetuating cognitive construct it was a little like discussing digestion for a being of flesh.

Frank went on his way but I strangely remained curious as to what was bothering him.

Drum's day

The old man in long-worn dirty clothing was sitting on a concrete bench outside a hot dog stand.

"Could you help me, Grandfather?" I kept my voice mellow and polite making sure he heard the capital "G".

"Who are you to call me Grandfather?" he sneered with contempt, judging my agelessness to be middle age.

"Today I am the demon Shupanaznidimerol. Tomorrow I'll be another name but today I need the help of a beggar or poor man to find something no one wants."

"Well then!" his face brightened at the mad truth of what I said "Buy me a hot dog and tell me of this thing no one wants."