Black Tower Return

Against the hazy horizon it stands starkly contrasting the golden glow of the dawn sun, the Black Tower radiates its darkness into the very air that surrounds it; its evil trying to bleed into the world as it has always attempted to.

Its true nature hidden from the rest of the world, the Tower cannot hide from me. I see it, not as the modern, sky-scraping building that it disguises itself as to the rest of the citizens that dwell in its shadow, but as the ancient abode for the earliest of evils.

Throughout history it has always been, not always in the same location, not always taking the guise of the looming monolith against the sky; sometimes as the tower of an ancient stronghold, or a lone lighthouse on the cliffs surrounded by the crashing sea, or even as a sacred cathedral on occasion.

Yet, how ever it has hidden itself in plain sight, I too have been there to prevent the evil within from seeping out into the world and infecting it like a deadly virus, and turning it into a insidious nightmare from which there is no waking.

Over countless years I have fought my way to the Black Tower; fought my way inside and to the very apex, to face the evil that I always find there, each time, sacrificing myself in order to prevail.

Though, this time it has taken me much longer to find my way here, to realize my purpose. So much of this time is distraction. In days gone by, I was able to focus my attention, sharpen my mind against the darkness that threatens to envelop the world, but this time feels different.

This time feels as if too much of the Tower has leached its way into the world; leached its way into the hearts of the people. And it is growing.

Perhaps my spirit has grown tired and weary, having battled the undying evil of the Tower over and over, through the millennia, but this time feels different, this time feels wrong.

As I stand looking out over the sprawling cityscape, the Black Tower looming ominously in the distance, I feel alone.

I feel that I am missing a part of myself, the part that gave me strength in times of yore.

Did I have a companion once? One who fought along side me, as we moved as one, our combined strength out-matching even the primordial evil of the Tower?

If so, where have you gone, my friend? Did you fall in battle some time before and throughout the years I have forgotten you? Or did the evil behind the Black Tower find away to wipe you from my memories?

Where are you now; now, when I need you most; now when I face the Tower once more, alone and unsure.

The sun rises up from behind the Tower's dark outline and its golden light falls upon me, warming the chill that has descended upon my heart.

From behind, far off in the distance, a fierce roar echoes out and I turn to look over my shoulder as a memory blossoms in my mind and a smile appears across my face.

Have you return, my old friend? Have you come to my aid once again?

With a roar of my own I charge forward down the slopping hill, courage and strength returning back to me as you have done, and even as I race along, I can feel you fast approaching to join me. Your strong legs hurtling you along, coming up strong so I can almost feel your breath on my neck from behind.

Not even death could keep you from my side, could it, my trusted friend? Come; let us face the Black Tower once more; come, let us roar.

In response, you bellow thunderously, heralding our charge.

Be warned it cries out to the Tower and the evil therein; man and beast have come for you once again.

Underneath

Lately, I have been fixated by the idea that there is another me living directly underneath me.

Not in the apartment beneath mine, or even in the basement, but underneath the very ground, mirroring my every action, my every movement in a world opposite my own.

It began a few weeks ago when I was out for a jog in the park. I had taken the wooded path that went through the thick canopy of the trees, to get away from the hot sunlight; becoming distracted by how the rays of light flitted through the leaves prettily, I tripped on an exposed root and fell sprawling onto the hard-packed ground.

I was surprised more that hurt, yet the impacted winded me for a moment and lay there, feeling the cool soil against my skin.

Pushing up with the palms of my hands, I instantly felt the sensation of my palms coming into contact with what seemed like someone else's hands pushing back just underneath the surface.

The sensation startled me more than the fall and I scrambled back up to my feet and stared at the impression I had made on the ground. There was indeed the outlines of my hands but they were not depressed into the soil as they should have been from the impact, they only seemed level with the surface, as if they had been pushed back into position from the other side.

Shaking my head, I disregarded the thought and continued on my run, but that night, as I lay in bed, my mind drifted back to that sensation of someone underneath me on the ground and started to ponder if there were other dimensions sitting right next to this one, why could there not be one below; a world just underneath the surface where our opposites live and go about their lives counter balanced to those in this one.

The idea festered in the back of my head, distracting me during the day as I tried to focus on my work, and then consuming my thoughts while I walked home each night. A few times I nearly walked straight out into traffic because I was too busy looking down at the sidewalk under my feet, fooling myself into imagining feeling the footfalls of my opposite on the soles of my shoes through the concrete.

Searching online and even going to the library to research books on physics and theories of multiple universes, I became obsessed with the subject. Though, in all of the books and articles, most spoke of dimensions stacked metaphorically on top of one another, not actually sitting beside or on top of each other.

None mentioned being able to actually feel the other pushing back, but each day I became more convinced I could; convinced that the fabric between me and my other was somehow wearing thin.

The question is: could it wear out?

What if, through our constant contact with the thinning floor between our worlds we manage to tear a hole in the fabric between our worlds and we fall through, sucking everything down into each other's dimension, causing both to collapse into each other; obliterating both.

I know how ridiculous this sounds, and I cannot explain how it is possible, yet I believe that is what is happening. That is why I am writing to you.

I have stopped leaving my apartment; stopped setting foot on the floor unless absolutely necessary, for fear any more contact with fabric of the floor between our dimensions will only further damage it, thus destroying both our worlds.

I know you are reading this letter as we write it, so please, I implore you, stay off the ground; stay off the floor, and I will do the same.

Though I fear the damage is already done, I can feel you underneath me now; feel you sitting cross-legged on your bed, writing this letter to me as well.

The Darkness Below

The darkness was encroaching, soon it would swallow the light and there would be nothing; nothing except oblivion.

Looking up toward the shimmering rays of light that danced above him just outside the dome of the void he now sank further down into; teasing him, the heavenly beams seemed to pull away from him as he swung out a flailing arm to somehow grab hold and pull himself out of the blackness that threatened to suck him down below.

For a moment he let himself float in between the darkness and the light, the calm of the muffled silence washing over him even as the burning within his chest intensified. It was peaceful down here, all the troubles and stresses of the world above slowly fading as he began to drift downward.

He looked away from the mocking light and down into the dark; down into the vast blackness of the void, and felt it calling out to him to let go and let it enfold him within its icy arms.

However, his glance happened upon what he held in his left hand, the object that had brought him down into the deep in the first place, and the vividness of life above came back to him and he once again found himself filled with the desire to be in the light.

A surge of energy run through his body and he kicked and clawed his way out of the suffocating dark up into the dancing beams of light that played near the surface.

With a final, agonizing push of his exhausted arms he felt himself break through and out into the open air above.

Holding his treasure high in his left hand, he gave a triumphant shout as he gasped for air to fill his almost depleted lungs.

Blinking as the water dripped down his brow into his eyes he orientated himself so he faced his family who were gathered on the dock of their cabin on the sunny lake.

Wearily, he started to swim toward them as the shouted encouragingly for him to come back out of the water, all the while, holding his left arm in the air, not wanting his trophy to touch the inky waters ever again.

"I found it!" He tried to shout as water sloshed into his mouth and he sputtered and coughed. "I found Jimmy's shoe!"

He clutched tiny child's Velcro running shoe in his hand as if it were the most precious treasure the world had ever known.

"Good job, honey!" his wife said somewhat proudly. "But you didn't have to jump in after it, we have another three pair. They were on sale."

Her words could not tarnish his triumph as he swam close to where his son sat on the dock's edge, wearing his little, yellow life jacket, swinging his legs out over the water; one bare-footed, the other still wearing the matching shoe to the one he had dove down into the deep for.

Swinging his legs happily as his father came splashing toward him, Jimmy laughed; laughing and swinging; swinging and laughing.

Until, as he watched, Jimmy's other shoe was flung off his chubby little foot, arced into the sun-filled air, and then landed with a plunk into the deep, blue waters of the lake and began immediately to sink.

Himmel

The oppressive heat of the tunnels made Carmel feel as though she was traversing further and further into some gigantic oven; voluntarily baking herself alive.

The cluster of pipes that ran along the length of the tunnels sweated with the scorching steam that travelled within, so she had to be extra cautious not to touch the surface of them, else a slight brush up against them would sear her skin.

Sweat drenched her face as the moisture in the air caused her hair and clothing to cling to her already overheating body, yet she kept on moving deeper still; deeper and closer to the center of the mystery she was determined to uncover.

All of her life, she, and everyone living topside hundreds of levels above, had gone about their lives in the seemingly utopian city in the clouds, Himmel, unaware of the dark secret that dwelt directly below them in the depths of the massive floating island's engines.

Until, that is, a few weeks ago when Carmel and her friend Luciana were in the archives doing research for a project in history class and had stumbled upon an odd book.

What made it so odd was that it was so old and moreover, that it was not made of regular holographic paper as every other book in Himmel, but actual organic pulp-paper.

It had been wedge in behind the shelves of all the other identical, super-thin books as though someone had hidden it there for them to find.

Within the book, the fragile pages were filled with handwritten entries from whoever had authored it. The journal told of how the people of the city were being lied to by the Counsel of Elders and that there was a hideous secret that they hid from everyone; the secret of what actually ran the floating city.

The girls had snuck the book out of the archives easily because there would be no digital tracking on it like the other books housed there, and so they had hurried home to Carmel's family's unit, high up in the Avex Sector, to pore over its contents in secret.

The journal was hard to understand because of the scrawling writing, yet they followed along as the author told of a secret entrance to the tunnels below the city that led to the hidden engine room down deep within the bowels of the floating continent.

After searching for the clandestine tunnel entrance for weeks, Camel and Luciana had found it; an abandoned maintenance hatch in the dingy Hallum Sector that must have been long forgotten even to the Counsel for it was unguarded and, though the hatch wheel was rusty, unlocked.

Once they had found the entrance, they had gone back home to prepare for their journey to uncover the truth and snuck out after nightfall as the city powered down for the evening.

Steeling themselves, they hefted open the hatch and climbed down the rusty ladder that led down to the tunnel below.

At first, after getting over the darkness and initial scariness of the tunnels, the going was fairly easy, just long corridors of old pipes and wire casings that hummed constantly as they made their way down the seemingly never ending levels.

Every so often they had to choose which way to turn down a new corridor, and more times than not, the way they chose stopped in a dead-end of impassable pipes entering the thick metal wall, so they had to back track and go the correct way.

Until the door.

After what seemed like the entire night had passed, they had become weary and tired, so they stopped to rest and eat some of the protein snacks they had packed. While sitting there in the dim lamp light, Carmel had noticed a door at the far end of the tunnel. They had come across a few doors which led to the stairwells to the next lower level, but they had all been fairly thin doors with portholes through which they could see the stairs.

Yet, this was a big, thick door with no window and another hatch wheel, with what looked to be frost built up around its seams.

She pointed it out to Luciana, who said they probably should not open it because if it did not lead down then it was probably just some dead end room, perhaps a cold storage, which was causing the frost.

Carmel was already too curious to just let it be and so had gotten up and walked over to the hatch and hefted the wheel a turn. It spun more easily than the entrance hatch and before she knew it, the door was cracking open with a gushing of air.

Since she was already holding onto the hatch wheel, Carmel was able to keep herself from being sucked out of the door that opened right out into the frigid open air of the night sky.

Luciana was not so lucky.

Unprepared for the vacuum of air that was powerful enough to lift her right up in the air, she screamed as she flew toward the opening and hit her head on a low hanging pipe, knocking her unconscious.

Carmel watched in horror as her friend was sucked out right passed her and hurled into the star-filled night, falling out of sight silently.

Once the vacuum had depleted itself, the pull of the air outside died down so that she could crawl herself along the pipes and over to the next set of stairs, where she slammed the stairwell door shut and fell to the ground in a sobbing heap.

That had been what felt like a lifetime ago now, as she tried not to think about Luciana limp body falling forever downwards into darkness and wiped away the sweaty tears that welled in her eyes.

Now, she was almost to the end of their journey and was determined to find out the horrible secret the old journal had spoke of, and uncover the truth behind the lies the Elders were feeding to the masses back up on the surface.

She was determined for her friend, Luciana, and so kept on even through the maddening heat, down further into the ever-constricting tunnels.

Until at last she came to a final hatch, and had to cover her already singed hands with cloths torn from her sleeves in order to grab onto the wheel and wrench it open.

A gush of air from behind the opening door made her flinch and grip harder onto the scoring hot wheel, but it only let out a cooling breeze that felt like the refreshing open air compared to the stifling heat of the tunnel.

Hurriedly, Carmel went through the opening and let the door shut out the heat behind her.

Everything was dark in the coolness of the room she was now in and she once again turned on her lamp to light the open space in front of her.

All of the heat and energy of the outside tunnels must have been to keep this vast, open room cool, because she shivered as the drop in temperature caused the sweat on her skin to instantly go cold.

In the muffled silence of the dark room, she heard a laboured breathing from somewhere off in the middle of the open space. Moving as quietly as she could, Carmel crept closer to the sound which was then joined by the noise of rhythmic motion, a kind of trotting pace.

As she moved further into to the dim room, she could tell it was not just one individual in there with her, but many; a multitude of labouring beings, breathing heavily from their movements in the cold dark.

Abruptly, she hit into a metal railing that blocked her from going further and she could see a dim glow from what seemed like below her. She looked down from the ledge she must have been standing on to see figures moving in unison on the floor below.

As her eyes widened to adjust to the low light, she could make out the shapes of the massive amount of figures below.

Though never having actually seen them outside of picture books of old fairy takes, she recognized recognized the creatures instantly, and she gasped in shock.

For running on stationary treadmills, with wires connecting them to the light-filled machinery that lined all the walls around them, were thousands of galloping horses.

Himmel, it would seem, was run on horsepower.

The Machine

Switching on the machine's power unit, Barry took a step back as the silver sphere began to hum with vibration from the harmonics regulator and lift off the concrete floor to hover a metre in the air.

The cables and wires attached to the docking cradle held the sphere from rising much higher and Barry's eyes widen with delight as the vibration waves became visible around the curve of the orb's surface.

The humming from the machine grew as did the vibrations, until the entire sphere was a silver blur that began to fade in and out of vision.

It was working.

Barry quickly scanned his laptop screen and saw that all the output readings were within the optimal limits, finally; after so many failed attempts he had finally fixed the stress level harmonics and brought them into alignment. And now, his machine was actually working!

Looking back to the fading sphere, he saw it dissolve right out of existence and leave only a void where its silver shape had been.

The hum stopped abruptly and for a few moments, all sound seems to be sucked out of the room, leaving only a pure silence, devoid of any noise save for the sound of Barry's own breathing in his ears.

Then, with a pulsing wave of air and sound, the sphere reappeared and hovered peacefully where it had been only a few moments earlier, a layer of frost crackled on its surface.

After a moment of hesitation, Barry took a step toward the machine before a figure of a man popped into being right in front of him.

It was him, another Barry; only this one was dressed in what looked to be a well-worn, leather motorcycle outfit and sporting an eye patch over his left eye that hide a long, jagged scar.

The other Barry also looked tougher somehow, harder. Perhaps it was all the spiked studs adored his leather outfit, or the rugged beard, or more than likely, the homemade-looking rifle slung across his back.

In any case, this Barry seemed to mean business, and he came at Barry shouting.

"You have to shut this machine down, you fool!" Tough Barry yelled and he closed in on him, but even as Barry quickly stepped back to get away from the crazed version of himself, Tough Barry seemed to make sure not to come close enough to make actual contact.

"You hear me!?" Tough Barry shouted again. "Tear the machine down or everything and everyone we knew and love will be destroyed!"

Barry felt himself hit against the work bench and he reached back to the machine's power unit as Tough Barry continued to shout at him to turn it off.

"Okay." Barry stammered as he found the switch and flicked it off.

Instantly, the hovering sphere dropped back into its docking cradle with a metallic clunk and the other Barry popped out of existence just as suddenly as he had shown up.

Barry sighed with relief as his cluttered basement workshop was quiet once more.

Well, that was a close one, he thought to himself as he began to disassemble the wiring connection of the machine's main power supply.

When a crazy, alternate-timeline version of yourself comes from the future to tell you to shut down your time machine, you listen.

Apprentice

Being a wizard's apprentice was not as glamorous a vocation as Hansel had envisioned when is poor, dirt-farming mother and father had tried to convince him it was when they had sold him to the old sorcerer, though it did have its moments.

For the most part, Hansel ran errands for the gruff conjurer: making the long trek into the village through the haunted woods; fending off the vengeful spirits that dwelt within with the heavy iron pipe the wizard had given him for when one of the shaky warding spells gave out. 

Once he had finally made it through the treacherous woods, he had learned to ignore the villagers' shouts for him to go back to his 'Devil-master', though not so with being pelted by the rotten fruits and vegetables they threw at him.

Gathering the different items needed for the specific spells was always interesting since most were toxic to the skin or eyes, and so would leave him with terrible rashes to which the wizard would apply some stinking salve concoction that usually stung worse that the skin abrasion. 

Then there was the endless chores the wizard would have him do: sledging out the remnants of the unused potions from the huge cauldron in back behind their modest shack of a house; fixing the countless repairs on the shack's leaky roof, walls, and floor; taking the sorcerer's pet demon out for its daily exercises always proved a challenge for its tiny but powerful wings could lift them both fairly high up before the gave out, sending them plummeting down to the muddy ground in a heap of gnashing teeth and claws.

However, the worse part of the apprentice life was the days he spent in the shape of some horrid creature or other when the wizard's spell experiments went wrong.

Hansel had been a rat, a bat, a toad, a fruit fly, and most retched of all, a cockroach; scurrying out of the light and having to hide with the teeming masses of other roaches that infested the seedier recesses of the latrine.

Thankfully, he would always return to his regular form, with the wizard chastising him for not being around for days as if he was shirking his duties.

And yet, all the trials and tribulations were worth it when, late at night, as the old wizard lay snoring in his bed, Hansel was able to practice spells on his own in the dark of his corner bed of straw.

It would always begin with a tiny spark of light, barely bright enough to see, and then, as he concentrated, the spark would grow bright and brighter into a glowing ball of light in his hand.

Letting the light tumble through his fingers he had learnedto deftly move the glowing ball from one hand to the other, like a jester's juggling. His eyes shimmered with the delight of being able to conjure the ball of energy out of thin air, though the wizard had said something about the energy actually coming from some 'nether dimension' or something in one of his droning speeches on the proper use of magic.

But what the old fool did not know could not hurt him, thought Hansel as he marvelled at the glowing light bouncing to and fro in his hands.

So enthralled at his own magical prowess was he, that on this night, the second spark of light coming into existencebehind him went unnoticed. 

It too grew into a glowing ball of radiant light, yet it kept on growing rapidly until it was a sphere half of the size of Hansel that then started to flicker from within.

Hansel noticed his shadow dancing in front of him on the freshly swept floor and turned to see the orb of light hanging in the air behind him. His concentration lost, the small ball of light was sucked from his hand into the bigger sphere with a hissing sound. 

Peering into the light, which was somehow not harsh on his eyes, Hansel saw the flickering and leaned in closer to examine the shifting darkness that began to crackle through the ball's core.

Moving closer still, he saw the cracks in the light were actually letting out shafts of darkness as if there was something behind the shell of light; something void of light.

Suddenly, the cracks broke open and monstrous claws reached out from the darkness within and grabbed hold of Hansel's face and before he could utter a scream, pulled him wholly through the gap. The gap being slightly too small for his shape, caused his flesh to be ripped off as he was dragged through.

Once his bloody feet had disappeared through the dimensional opening, the glowing light collapsed in on itself and blinked out of existence, leaving only the pulpy mess of Hansel's hair, clothes, and skin on the straw covering the floor that had been his bed. 

Awaking in the morning to find the mass of gore that was once his bumbling apprentice, the wizard grunted to himself and went to get the shovel to casually clean up. That had been his fifth apprentice in as many years; the fools never listened to his teachings. 

Oh well, he thought as he hummed a happy little tune while scooping up the muck, he only had cost two bricks of manure and a hen, which had happened to be his last apprentice anyway.

The Jungle

With the jungle floor far below and the green canopy of leaves above, she sped along the high branches, effortlessly leaping from tree to tree, rushing to the danger that awaited her to the east.

The muscles of her strong limbs worked beneath her sun-soaked skin as she used the vines and hanging branches to carry herself across the tree tops along side her companions that had come to warn her of the distress on the far side of the jungle.

Twin chimpanzees moved deftly beside her; their unusual silence telling her of the urgency of the situation. Down on the ground, travelling as their shadow, a midnight-furred panther tracked its fellow travellers with unmatched skill.

All together, the four of them raced eastward toward the rushing of the river that splits the jungle in two; toward the darkness that lay on the other side.

Soon they reached the edge of the tree cover and came to an anxious stop, the panther pacing back and forth along the river bank while she and the twins stood high up on over-hanging branches, scanning the rapidly moving water for their young friend.

She held a hand over her eyes to shield them from the bright light of the sun that shinned in the sky overhead. Her amber hair and spotted cloth garments flapped in the moisture-filled breeze as she searched the waters for any sign of the cub.

Excited screeches beside her caused her to look over and find the twins pointing and jumping wildly down at the river bank to her right; the far river bank.

Down on the muddy shore of the wide river, a small orange and black figure pulled itself out of the speeding waters and scrambled up the bank to collapse with exhaustion on the dirt ground at the foot of the towering trees of the other side.

For a moment she was relieved the tiger cub was safely out of the river, but the loud roar of the panther brought her attention to the shadowy figures moving through the darkness of the trees toward the resting young cub.

Without hesitation, she jumped to the next branch, grabbed hold of a strong vine that wrapped itself around the tree from the jungle floor, and, with a dashing leap, she vaulted herself sidelong through the air above the river.

The tension of her weight and trajectory of her swing caused the vine to unravel itself from the top of the tree, giving her enough length to just reach half way across the water. At the apex of her swing, with a loud grunt, she let go and let herself fly freely down toward the other side of the river.

With acrobatic agility, she rolled herself into a tumble as she landed somersaulting onto the muddy riverbank, covering herself from head to toe in the dark muck.

Not stopping a beat, she rolled to her feet and raced toward where the unconscious tiger cub lay. Running parallel to her, amongst the dark shadows of the trees, the threatening figures uttered terrifying shrieks as they neared their prey.

Pounding her bare feet on the hard-packed ground, she quickened her paced but could feel the other creatures' speed up as well, with only a few lengths between her and the cub she could see that the loud screams had woken the tiger out of its daze and his dark eyes were bulging with terror.

One last push of effort and she dove out for the cub and snatched him by the scruff, tumbling into a ball; the swiping of razor-sharp claws narrowly missing the exposed skin of her back and legs as she rolled down the river bank.

Not daring to look back she came out of her tucked roll and dove directly into the rushing river, holding the cub by its scruff in her mouth as a tigress would. Paddling hard and fierce, she slowly work her way across the river, the wild screams of the creatures on the east bank muffled under the splashing water.

With barely enough strength to move her arms she felt herself being pulled along the current toward the all-engulfing falls that raged over the colossal drop to the craggy rocks below.

Opening her mouth, she let the cub slide into her arms as she began to sink under the rushing water.

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through her shoulder and she felt herself being lifted out of the water and dragged roughly to shore.

The panther pulled her with his massive jaw clamped onto her shoulder until she was fully out of the river and then her let go, leaving puncture wounds that bled freely; though they would heal more quickly than any injury she would have sustained being dashed upon the rocks at the bottom of the falls had he not intervened.

Coughing out water, she sat up and lifted the young tiger up to glare at him in the eyes as he looked sheepishly back.

Across the river the screeching creatures slinked back into the shadows of the trees, their sickeningly yellow eyes glowering at their lost meal, while the group of friends stared silently back as they gathered on west river bank.

Looking back at the young cub she growled her own threatening disapproval and the little tiger flinched as she only ruffled his soaked furry head with her hand.

The little prince of the jungle would be getting enough punishment from their majesties when she got him home as it was. Perhaps, she thought, we can take our time getting back.