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Announcement regarding BFFSC, and other things

Hiya! You might notice that Benji’s Fun Fact Story Corner has been updating less and less frequently, and that is for good reason. I feel like the format I’ve written this entire story in has restricted me from actually writing, well, a proper story. Because of the disjointed way that this has been created, the actual overall flow is almost nonexistent. So, I am solemn to announce to my three or four regular readers that BFFSC is hereby canceled until further notice. It WILL however return, but in a comic form starting at the beginning of next year. I hope to rewrite in a coherent manner and to improve myself in the process.

In other news, however, I am going to be writing a novel! I am hoping to write a novel based on an “Abandoned Concepts Series” which I held in one of the Discord servers I am active in, and am going to be turning it into a novel that will be released chapter by chapter on this very website. I will also try and revamp this website a little bit, make it a little better for reading, and if anyone could help me with tips on how to advertise, please send suggestions to my email at Benji3hermann@gmail.com

I appreciate every single one of you, thank you for sticking through this tumultuous journey!

Benji’s Fun Fact Story Corner #96

Benji’s Fun Fact Story Corner #96

The Climber panted as he kneeled in the snow, slowly propping himself up as he gingerly poked at the tender, purple spot on his chest. He could see the edge of the thick roiling fog before him, and as he picked up his pack that had been knocked to the ground from the small scuffle, his shoulder sent sharp daggers of pain spiking down his side. A sudden chill rolled over him, sending ripples of gooseflesh prickling around his spine, making the hair stand up on his neck. It was an almost primal instinct that sent fear and adrenaline coursing through his body, pumped by his ever quickening heart. He spun around, expecting something titanic and menacing, and he swore he could have seen something large and black that blotted out the sun… But all he saw was a ragged man, obscured by fog. There seemed to be something inherently…wrong with him. Perhaps it was the way he seemed to move as if tugged by strings, or the tattered clothes that he could just barely make out. The Climber was too wary to go any closer, trusting his instincts. Instead, he called out to the man who was hanging his head low.
“Hello? Are you lost? No, wait, that’s a stupid question, uh, what’s your name?”
The man lifted his head, and the fog made a whooshing sound as it rushed away to make a clear path from the figure to the Climber, akin to a certain Biblical figure parting the Red Sea. He was horrified to see he recognized the figure as he stared at its macabre brilliance. A half mask that once could have been as pale as the moon was cracked and stained with blackened blood, and between the large cracks a black, viscous liquid oozed out in a stomach-churning fashion. His arms had been twisted and broken in so many places they resembled modern art more than actual limbs that should belong on a human, but instead of seeing protruding bones or pink flesh, the layer beneath the skin coursed with the same inky black ooze. A single milky white eye peered blindly outwards, the nose now a seeping crater, and the mouth stuck in a perpetual, bloodstained grin. The Climber stood frozen as the air seemed to rush into those horrid nostrils, and vocal cords that by all means should be dysfunctional gurgled into life.

“I… Smell… Me.”
The Climber watched, almost as if in slow motion, as the man’s skin burst open and released the huge thing he had been containing inside his frail body. It was like a large wall, or a miniature mountain of shivering pustules and gnashing mouths filled with rows of sharp teeth. The Climber suddenly felt a huge heat wave wash over him, melting all the snow in the local vicinity, and a voice seemed to echo from all of the mouths in unison.

 

“You were there, I remember you. You stood and watched as I was thrust into the deep pits of warmth, how I, B’Harat the great were defeated? Now look on mortal. Gaze upon my awe-inspiring mass and BURN in my scorching heat. I am nowhere near my original power, but that will come later. I must feed.”

 

The Climber was frozen, his limbs that were previously wound tighter than springs, and just as ready to jump into action, were now paralyzed and seemed to be made of heavy stone. Dead weight. This was not the first time, he grimly remembered, thinking back to the battlefield where he had given up his humanity. How his gun barrel had been shaking as he had pointed it at the man’s head, unfiring, the voices in his head telling him to pull the trigger, but there were more important things that were presently looming over him. A snaking tentacle was darting for his leg, sharp teeth gnashing along its sides as tiny eyes blinked lazily on its glistening surface. It readied itself like a viper, flaring right before it struck.

 

This was the exact moment a grenade flew through the air and lodged itself in one of the many open crevices that opened and closed on the wall of rotting, charcoal-black flesh. The explosion a split second later sent the abomination reeling backward. Gunshots rang through the thin air as the soldiers in the fog opened fire. The Climber looked back and saw something amazing, the nightmare from his past was laid out before him in the thick haze, still bleeding, unblinking corpses lining the trenches, however, all the soldiers sent to fight had now banded together against the common enemy. At their head was an all too familiar face, his own. It directed the others, shouting orders and frantic hand gestures waving through the air.

An eye popped and sagged, leaking brown fluid as the mass gave an undulating screech not too dissimilar from someone drawing fingers across a blackboard. Pustules burst and sent caustic pus shooting into the air to rain down onto helmeted heads. An idea popped into the Climbers head as he went searching for the unstable, explosive crystals that had been slipped into his pack.

End of Benji’s Fun Fact Story Corner #96

Benji’s Fun Fact Story Corner #95

Benji’s Fun Fact Story Corner #95

The Hermit realized all too late that he should have brought a better jacket. The winds threw aside his thin clothing and whipped at his bare, unprotected skin. His lungs burned as he swallowed air far too cold for his insides. As he climbed the side of the mountain, he looked out on the vast expanse below him. Sunlight played between tall spruce trees that lined the plateau below. No birds flew above the treetops, but this made it all the more peaceful. Only the sound of the wind whistling between the leaves spun into his ears. In the distance, the sides of numerous towering wooden ribs loomed in the gloomy fog. The grain was cracked and moss crawled up its aged surface. The Hermit remembered when he had first seen this place, how his jaw had dropped when he saw the magnificent skeleton of the ancient creature. Back then, there was no fog, only the strange corruption leaking from the black city that was nestled in the skull of the corpse. Even now, just from the memory of it, he shuddered violently. The snow crunched under his feet as he walked, but he was surprised when it dropped to become knee deep. First he gasped at the sudden slip, but began to laugh as he realised nothing was going to kill him. The small disturbance sent snow tumbling down the cliff face, gathering into a small snow drift that ran down the mountainside. He watched it as it made its path down to the trees, staring as it crushed the smaller saplings.

 

Finally, he came to the end of the mountainside path, and the danger of slipping off the edge dissipated with the pressure that rested on his heart. Now he had a clear view of the plateau before him. In the sky hung the abnormal tear between realities. He gazed at the fog tendrils extending their feelers down into the once beautiful place. All the water in this region flowed from the eldritch wound in the heavens, after all the old lakes had dried up. This place brought back unwanted memories. He remembered being with his three companions: the enigmatic Jeremiah, with his strange talismans and books. Jach the god slayer, the albino who came from a land where the sun burned too bright. Last and certainly not least, Roen, handsome, perfect, yet gentle Roen. Oh how he had fallen.

 

Many minutes passed before he stood in front of the wall of fog. Thick and almost liquid in nature, it was grey and foreboding. The first obstacle, beyond which was the vicious test of the second plateau. Even now the memories of his first time here were leaking back…

 

…He had been knocked down by some nightmare from his past, a folktale that had scared him as a child come to life. The crone had not stood, but floated on a broomstick and bore an iron cap instead of a nose. It had procured some stinging green mist in its hands, but Jeremiah was the one who had saved him. He whispered something strange, and the twisted blade he carried came alight with purple flames. The wind that had blown past them whistled as it passed through its elaborate black steel blade. He slashed at the hag and she dissolved into the fog from whence she came, and Jeremiah spun around to struggle against a creature with needlelike teeth.

 

The memories were not welcome, intrusive and unwanted. They brought back pains and aches in his bones he had spent years forgetting. He clutched at his head, but the pain went away with the fleeting remembrance. He stepped through into the fog, and it felt almost as if there were many small hands tugging at his face and beard, he held his breath as long as he could while he walked. The sensation was familiar, and reminded him of Ta’rim and his doorway, which only served to make him feel worse. Quite suddenly he emerged from the wall of fog and could now see the full extent of the valley. Ta’rim had told him that the giant corpse was once one of his brothers, another Overseer. His task has been to lift up those who passed the test to the third plateau, but since his death a stairway had been carved into the ice wall that marks the end of this hellish domain. He began to trudge through the snow once again, his journey was far from over. Thankfully, his path had brought him reasonably close to the large ice wall, he was at the place where the ground began to rise. It would continue to do so before reaching the staircase, if he remembered correctly. This was when he noticed the thick embankment of fog rolling in around the base of the sudden rise, and when he looked closer, as he was ever so curious, he saw what appeared to be the man he had saved in the dark grey mist. He also saw the large… How could he describe it? It was an undulating, black mass. The snow that surrounded it was melting as it dragged itself with ever hastening speed towards the Climber, and the Hermit began to run.

End of Benji’s Fun Fact Story Corner #95

Benji’s Fun Fact Story Corner #94

Benji’s Fun Fact Story Corner #94

The Climber stopped crawling through the snow. His shoulder felt crunchy inside his thick woolen sleeve as he removed the long twisted knife from his belt. The crystal inlaid into the steel of the blade glowed in his grip as he pointed it towards the grinning gloop that was writhing in front of him.

“Oh? Do you dare to fight back? You cannot beat me, worm.” Its laugh was a bubbling gargle as it pushed itself towards him.
The Climber was not afraid, he understood what this thing was. Right before it hit him he dived out of the way and began speaking to the abomination in front of him.
“As the Overseer said, you are me.”
Once again the creature charged, this time screeching as the Climber sidestepped it and it fell into the snow, a slick trail of sticky black oil left behind.
“You are every dark thought, every failed dream, every hateful mutter, and you know what? I recognize that voice of yours. You’re the little voice in my head, the devil on my shoulder.”
It stopped charging, now shrinking away from his truthful words. Finally, it retorted, speeding towards him.
“You can’t get rid of me! You can lock me away but I’ll always com-” It was cut off as the Climber grabbed its throat.
“Shut up. I tried locking you away, but you grew, didn’t you? You grew nice and big, festering inside a locked box in my mind. Trying to fool myself into believing these kinds of things don’t happen in my mind leads me to be sick and broken, so I’ll keep you on a leash from now on.” It gurgled and screamed as its inky substance dissolved, travelling through his veins and into his chest, the scream falling away as if it was falling down a deep pit. The sensation was icy cold, similar to having chilly water pumped through his blood and racing down his chest. It coalesced in a purplish black mark, right above his heart, and the Climber collapsed into the snow. His shoulder was on fire, both cold and hot, splinters of bone were embedded in the flesh surrounding the break, and every movement caused it to flare up once again. He wheezed and spluttered from the pain as a gong sounded from somewhere in the distance. He got to one knee and felt a rumble in the ground, and he suspected that the Overseer was coming back to tell him he was finished, but that was when he saw the dangling half mask loom out of the fog, many eyes fixed upon him.

 

The glimmering azure eyes that lay in the pink flesh of the sword began to shift and stare. The folds of skin shifting and moving as Daniel shuffled towards it. Everything else was meaningless, blurred, black and white. The only thing that mattered was the blade. The blade! It was perfect, with a yellowing bone handle at its base. The main, long part of the sword was made from pink flesh, folds upon folds looked as if they could fold out, similar to a plant. The very skin looked to be warped and melted together. Set deeper inside the scars were purplish piercing eyes that stared with a glistening curiosity at him. The skin melted away towards the tip to more bone, but this was white and pristine, clean, ridges in the bone made it sharp and piercing. The main attraction was the orange light that crackled along its surface. This blade was not made for cutting. It was a battery, a living, thinking battery, and Daniel had never seen anything like it before. He tried to pry it from the dark hand of the corpse that clutched it, but it held fast and strong. He began to pull harder, violently, but the carcass grabbed back. Its void of a hand was so, so cold, but when it came into contact with his skin it burned like the surface of the sun. Blue, sinister flames licked at its gaping maw as the hole in its chest began to bleed the multicolored blood once again.
“You dare take myyyy blade?” It wailed, its voice similar to drawing fingernails on a chalkboard.

“This sword belongs to me, Ut’ahi, the black sun. Scourge of the north, holder of the Ra’gatan.” Daniel felt an immense pressure build up around the chair, the very gravity increasing as rocks turned to dust by the force of the awakening. So, he did what he thought was best, and pulled the sword harder. With the sound of crumbling stone and cracking bone, the hand was separated from the rest of the body, crumbling to dust as Daniel held the sword aloft. The carcass began to scream as the energy that had sustained it bled away, it too turning to ash as the last remnant of Ut’ahi, the black sun, the scourge of the north, fell to the ground in a shower of small, black spores. Daniel did not care, he was focused on the blade, the perfect weapon, beautiful and pulsating in his hand. He could feel the fire rumble through his very being, and it began to whisper to him.

“A new master? What is your wish, to level cities? To decimate battlefields? All you must do is bleed onto the blade…” Images were put into Daniels mind, entire worlds aflame, mountains of corpses, his enemies all fallen! He could see himself, standing there, holding the living blade while he sat in a dark throne of twisted stone and flesh. His finger was going down to the shining bone tip, ready to give up his blood in tribute to this mighty weapon, this was the moment he noticed something strange about these visions, his eyes were a purplish azure, his face was twisted and cruel, sneering and cocky. This was not him, and the visions began to shift to what he really yearned for. Bouncing on the back of Krane as they climbed ever higher, seeing the metal twist and turn underneath his adept hammer and heated forge, chipping away at stone to create his first golem. These were what made Daniel, Daniel. He was no fighter, no mighty warrior, he would not spill blood of those who were innocent. He snapped out of the trance and looked at the blade in his hands, a frown upon his soot coated face. He brought the weapon down hard on his knee, breaking it in two, and as it faded into streams of light it uttered one final word.

“Pity.”

Daniel sat down now, contemplating his actions, even as the gong sound echoed in between fungus coated alleyways, and curving, cobbled streets. He came to the judgment that the sword had been fake, a mere powerful illusion as apart of his test, and he felt a little better for not having destroyed a beautiful work of art.

This was the moment he heard the muffled footsteps of men in armor, their heavy footfalls swallowed by fungus coated floors. He did not even have time to hide as they pushed open the bronze double doors and a platoon of men in shining armor, led by a man in long robes and a clean-shaven face who smiled as a rune that was carved into his neck burned bright yellow. He began to speak in a smooth tone.

“I never expected a new testee to be down here in this Hell, but you shall do well in King Roen’s workshops, I am sure. Seize him.”

End of Benji’s Fun Fact Story Corner #94

Benji’s Fun Fact Story Corner #93

Benji’s Fun Fact Story Corner #93

An abomination heaved itself through the snow along the ground. The Overseer could sense it, a maelstrom of dark thoughts that could not possibly fit into a single mortal mind. The Overseer pondered if it should test the creature, but decided against that course of action. That monstrosity would not heed its word.

 

Sam awoke to find his heart not beating. This, among other things, was not what he wanted nor expected to feel. He quickly gasped for air only to find that it tasted sour and thin. The feeling the pill had given him still lingered in his muscles but the warmth did nothing to fight against the biting cold of the viscous, swampy water he found himself in. The light here was strange; it did not have any source but seemed to permeate through everything. Despite this, he could not see further than five meters ahead of him. When he stood up on shaky legs he found himself to be waist deep in the ice cold slush. Ahead of him he could see a huge x shape cut into the floor, below the grey, murky depths. He tried to wade towards it but the further he got, the harder the current tugged on his waists. He even tried to swim, but his weak arms could not pull him hard enough. He gave up and began to sob, wallowing in self pity, before he noticed something moving in the distance. A bare silhouette, a black outline of something huge and menacing. This entity appeared to be scanning the landscape, roving the waters with what appeared to be its head bent down, intent on its search. Sam instinctively stopped making any noise, not even blinking. His breath came in shallow, anxious gasps, his frosty breath misting the air. He knew that he did not want to be found.

Suddenly, he noticed how many ripples were created from his small struggle. Still, his heart did not beat in his chest. It was like a constant noise had been taken away from him, an essential part of his life, and now the silence of it was louder than anything else. That was the moment he noticed the golden chain suspended just under the water. From it hung a multitude of tiny copper bells, cylindrical in shape and trailing down beyond his range of vision . It suddenly shifted, hitting him in the leg as he watched. As soon as the chain made contact with his limb two things happened: First he felt a searing pain, burning through his leg and coursing through his veins so that his whole body was afire. Secondly, he began to see through the eyes of something else, as if his spirit was unceremoniously dumped inside the head of another being far away. Fleeting images raced through his mind. His head felt ready to burst open as his simple human brain struggled to comprehend visual stimuli coming from six eyes. All his senses were magnified tenfold- He could see the fine bristling hairs on ant carapaces as they bustled in single file on a nearby branch- he could smell the rich perfumes of jungle flowers mixing together with the fear sweat of lesser creatures. He could hear the heart beats of a small family of woodpeckers hiding from him in a tree trunk. He could taste the metallic tang of the blood of his most recent prey, still tantalising his tortuous tongue. Immense, powerful muscles rippled beneath his leathery skin that could turn the sharpest of blades.  Sensations new and alien flooded him, overwhelming his nervous system, and for a split second, he saw Krane. Sam felt the beast’s inhuman thoughts brushing against the boundaries of his consciousness, making his whole body shudder. What he understood from these thoughts was that the creature had been aware of Krane’s hunt for him for many days now, but it did not feel concerned at all. In fact it felt amused, like how a cat must feel while toying with a mouse.

The chain then lost contact with his legs, and Sam’s awareness of this apex predator was violently wrenched away. He was just himself now.

His entire life Sam had been told he was a failure, a mistake, a muckup. He was going to do something right.

He grabbed the golden chain, stifling a scream as his hands were burned. His skin began to peel and fuse with the metal as he began to heave, bells tingling as he fought against the strength of the animal at the end of the chain. Images dwarfed all his other senses as he became a backseat watcher in the creature’s mind, feeling as the hidden chain around its neck pulled and strangled it.
He did not see the mountainous creature emerge from the water behind him, pale white circular head dripping as it towered over him. Its matted black hair strung across its long thick body reeked of decay, but Sam’s senses only had room for what he was receiving through the chain. Leering pale lips curled into a disgusting smile behind him, revealing grey rotting gums and cracked brown teeth. It was a mercy that Sam never saw it, the bells tinkling onward as the two of them descended into the depths of the Broken.

 

The orange sun beat down on Krane’s neck as he hunted the creature. The horizon in the distance was stained with purples and reds in a splendid sight. Silhouetted against the backdrop of the sunset he could see the creature prowling its way deeper into the tall grass. Krane was thirsty, despite having found a special tree that was curved into the shape of a basin a couple of hours ago. The rainwater that had been inside had quenched his thirst, but now his desert dry throat was calling for moisture once again. Dirt stung Krane’s eyes as he marched onwards. The creature had not noticed him yet. Suddenly, his good leg buckled, and he crashed to the ground in a grand plume of dust. He used his hammer to support himself as he rose from the trench his fall had carved into the earth.  He noticed his lip had been split on a sharp rock from the impact, as a trickle of blood rolled warmly down his chin. A singular pebble was lodged inside the crevice between the stump of his leg and the wooden prosthetic, and it irritated him to no end. By the time he had finished shaking his peg around he noticed something strange; the beast was no longer on the horizon, and Krane realized just how much noise he had been making. The jungle around him was eerily silent.

He was already swinging his hammer around just as the animal shot out of the thick brush, its jaws wide open, assailing Krane’s nostrils with the stench of death. He managed to clip it on one of its many shoulders, but the action jarred his entire arm, sending pins and needles racing down one half of his body. He readied himself once again.

It moved faster than his eyes could follow, a blistering blur, and then a deep cutting pain as it raked its claws down his back. Blood soaked his tunic as he went to one knee. There it stood, right in front of him, mocking him. Krane roared as he flew upwards, swinging his hammer furiously, but he could not manage to land another hit. Maybe if he was not in such a thick delirium he could have been more accurate with his swings, but alas the red mist had descended over his eyes. Regardless, the rage that now consumed him was the only thing that kept him standing. Every time he missed, his brother’s voice echoed out to him, mocking him- “I told you brother… This task is impossible.”

As it cut his arms and shredded the back of his legs he did not cry out, instead he only roared louder.
Time slowed down. Was this how he died? He could see it now, the creature was no longer playing with him. Now its claws were outstretching, coming out for his throat. He was going to die choking on his own adrenaline-saturated blood. He swung his hammer as hard as he could but he knew the blow would never land.
Its neck snapped back as an ethereal golden collar and chain revealed itself, and the hammer hit with a heavy crunch. It went flying backwards, and Krane in his enraged state threw himself after it, landing blow after blow. Bones broke asunder under his immense strength. It was trapped now, but Krane kept on hitting it, throat raw and sore from the endless, guttural bellows that escaped his mouth.

Finally he relented, as the clouds in his mind receded. He watched as the creature completed its death throes, spasming violently. Finally, it rested with one hand pointing towards the tallest grass patch. Krane fell to his knees. He heard the thwomp and beat of strong wings as a gong sounded, its brass echo almost drowning out Krane as he sobbed in the dirt.
He was a monster, killing this beautiful predator in a fit of rage. The Overseer was not very good at reading these kinds of emotions.
“Ah! You have completed the challenge, albeit with a little external help, but no matter. Congratulations! You have slain the horrid beast that plagued this land.” It droned on and on, but Krane did not care. He saw as the minuscule creature emerged from the tall grass, barely tall enough to reach halfway up his shin, six tiny arms flailing as colors shifted on its hard scaly back. It pressed itself against its mothers dying corpse, nuzzling and bumping its falcon like skull into one of the six upturned palms. The Overseer paused in its dragging speech to look down in disgust.
“Ah. A cub, I thought I had eliminated all of them along with the last of the other Hunter’s creations. If you want you can turn away.” Its spine creaked as it bent down to reach and snap the infant creature, but Krane jumped in front of its outstretched, spindly hand.
“This is my burden to bare!” He shouted, arms spread out in a protective stance, and the Overseer retracted its hand in surprise.
“Fine! Fine. Just don’t leave that filthy thing on my plateau. They’ve caused me enough trouble as is. Have fun.” It spat as it dived back into the earth, swallowed whole by waves of crashing dirt.

Krane slowly pried the small creature from its now dead mother. It wriggled against his grip but relented when it came close to his warm chest. He set it inside his pack, and it began snoring softly as he lay the infant inside multiple layers of insulating cloth. Its hide shimmered as it began to match the hues of the cloth, just like how its mother had become one with the jungle not so long ago.

Krane began to walk with a heavy heart. He was too preoccupied to notice the jingling of small bells in the distance…

End of Benji’s Fun Fact Story Corner #93

Benji’s Fun Fact Story Corner #92

Benji’s Fun Fact Story Corner #92

Flaring red eyes looked him over with something similar to disgust. A sneer spread across what could have been its mouth as it whipped closer.
“Filthy. Disgusting. Scarred and self pitying. You couldn’t even kill the man that threw you down a pit, and when that albino man stabbed him through the chest, what did you do? Nothing.” It slithered and hissed. Inky tendrils snapping this way and that angrily. The Climber began to do what he did best, run.
It pursued. His feet pounded into flowers, then his footsteps became muted as they were absorbed by snow as he passed the border of the field and onto the slope itself. Still it hunted, dragging itself forward at immense speed.
A stray tentacle caught his shoulder and knocked him to the ground.
“You tried to ignore me, to pretend I didn’t exist. Bottled me up, locked me away. I grew though didn’t I? I’m not a pesky little thought anymore! I am bigger, better, faster than you will EVER be!” It’s voice was shrill, almost drilling into his skull. It seemed…familiar, like it was on the tip of his tongue. He crawled through the snow as it followed him, playing with him like a cat and its prey. His shoulder was most definitely broken, shattered into many pieces. He felt something in his pack, it jabbed into his side. That was when he remembered, one of the golems had slid something else into his pack. Two chunks of red, volatile looking crystal, wrapped up with extreme care. His shoulder screamed as the thing that followed him laughed with its shrieking voice. That was when it all clicked.

 

Daniel was wandering through shiny black streets. He was careful only to step onto clear patches of land, but they were few and rare between. The rest of the city was coated in the sinister looking black fungus, tendrils waving in the air. He observed it all cheerily, even as the air itself seemed to want to grab hold of his neck and throttle him. He was attempting to travel to the center of the city, hopefully to find something interesting. Before he knew it he was there. The fungus here was different from the almost mossy texture he had seen before. Here it grew large and obscuring, hanging like drapes from the arches and pillars of a gothic citadel. He pushed open the large bronze double doors, seemingly untouched by the encroaching disease. Inside was a sight to behold. What could have once been a beautiful, carpeted palace was now a rotting, depressing sight. Huge trees of black, velvety mushrooms grew to replace supports and other structures. A lush red carpet had been replaced with a harsh, monotonous black. Slender, shining tubes protruded from the vast sea of fungus, floating and gesturing towards a throne that lay at the end of the aisle. The chair was shattered into many pieces, and in its broken rubble lay a corpse. Maybe once the creature’s body could have been beautiful, its face seemingly chiseled from marble, but half of it was missing. Underneath the skin he could see the true sight, its pitch black gaping maw lay ajar. As his eyes traveled further down the body he noticed the other discrepancies, the supple skin was torn away at the hands and feet, revealing limbs that ended in sharp points instead of fingers and limbs, they looked sharp enough to shear through bone. In place of a chest there was a gaping hole, from here the black fungus spilt outwards in large thick roots, originating from the massive rupture in its chest. He saw there was still some blood coating the ragged edges, it shifted in color the longer he looked. The light seemed to bend around the black, absorbed and pulled in. Still wrapped tight around the talon that could have been a hand was a sword, it was not made from metal but from rended flesh, eyes were un-moving in its reddish-pink meat. Teeth could be seen poking from the folds in the flesh. Daniel grimaced, completely unnerved by this discovery, but even as he turned to walk out of the decrepit old church the sensation of curiosity gripped him  in its iron hold once again. The sword, perfect in its nature, it seemed to call out to him, whispers twisting their way into his mind. He began to take a step back towards the corpse in the chair.

End of Benji’s Fun Fact Story Corner #92

Benji’s Fun Fact Story Corner #91 (Re-Write)

Benji’s Fun Fact Story Corner #91

The line between past and present was blurred. Drops of sweat rolled down Krane’s forehead and into his unblinking eyes. He had been forced to dig out a small cavern with his mountainous hands, and now he was cooped up inside the claustrophobic space. He was waiting, thoughts crawling sluggishly while he waited for any noise or sound. The tracks here were fresh, the smell of the creature still hung thickly in the air. It was a rich, earthy aroma that curled its way into his flaring nostrils. Fat, bloated flies buzzed annoyingly around him. They landed on his freshly cut leg.

Freshly cut?

Wooden prosthetic. The dry wood was greedily sucking up the salty sweat that ran down his body, for it was dreadfully hot under the ground. He was beginning to see things, hear things. He grabbed a fistful of filthy nuts from beside him. He had picked them fresh from a plant near the edge of the tall grass. He also had salted meats in his sack, but those would only serve to make him thirstier. A voice swam up to him through his delirium. An echo of his brother.
“Brother, this is an impossible task. Leave with me! We can even take the boy. You’re delirious, snap out of it.”
Krane had slapped his brother, shouted as he hobbled on his one leg, lurching towards the blurry silhouette of his departing sibling. When he finally touched it, the silhouette spun around, six talon-tipped arms reaching out and ripping him to shreds. He shook his head, the waking dream receding into the recesses of his chaotic mind.
That was when he saw it; a bird, young and untaught. It began to sing, attempting to fill in the blanket of silence that hung over the savanna.

A blur, a snap as branches collided with something moving at extreme speeds, and the bird was gone. In its place was perched the creature that haunted Krane.  Elongated skull twitching from side to side. Four eyes scanning the surrounding area as it gently clutched the small bird in its jaws. Krane watched it without even taking a breath. His lungs screamed for oxygen, but he could not risk it seeing him. It slowly got down from the tree, three of its arms helping it safely as it inched to the floor, and suddenly without warning sped away. Dirt cloud rising high above into the sky, choking and blinding. Krane emerged from the mound, covered in clods of brown and tufts of grass stuck in his bushy eyebrows. His eyes were wide and bloodshot as he began to follow the trail.

 

Sam was hurting all over as he fell down the steep incline. He tumbled head over heels as dirt struck his eyes and stinging plants bit into his shins and elbows. When he finally came to a stop at the bottom of the hill, he had thoroughly scraped his knees and elbows, leading him to be even more irritable. Sam did not enjoy being irritable. He was so hungry! It felt as if a black hole had replaced his stomach. If he did not feed it soon it would feast on his other organs… He crawled along the bank of the stream, head pounding with each pull towards the thing he thought he had seen. A plant, he had been sure of it! Something green brushed against his face. He stopped and wildly thrust his hand around before he grabbed the plant and pulled it out by its roots. It had strange, purplish fruit with a hard scaly shell. He peeled it away with haste, but he was surprised to find a small pill, featureless save for the numeral inscribed on its exterior inside instead of any edible flesh. He gasped as he saw it, this was the first pill he had ever taken! The best high he ever had. He quickly cupped freezing cold water from the stream into his hands, and swallowed the pill with a gulp of water. The elation ran through him like fire in his veins. Muscles relaxing and pain fading away. He smiled and closed his eyes, feeling the warmth spread through him like a gentle hug as the drug descended down his throat. The hug was strong and nice, maybe a little too strong. The warmth faded away, replaced with a searing grip. The hug turned into a chokehold as he spluttered and croaked. He writhed and convulsed, pushing himself into the stream in the hopes that the temperature of the water would shock him out of it, but it was no use. It only served to make him almost drown, as he fought for air. Little did he notice that the stream, like all other bodies of water here, originated from the peculiar fissure in the sky. They snaked impossibly down through the air, in complete rebellion against the forces of gravity. No waves disturbed their silvery surfaces even in the strongest of winds. Sam was too preoccupied with balancing the desperate need for air with the bliss of the drug to notice that when his body struck the surface of the stream, the whole length of it shivered, akin to a cobweb catching a hapless fly. The current carrying him began to  slow, then stop, then reverse its direction, ferrying him up helplessly towards the gaping maw of the fissure.

End of Benji’s Fun Fact Story Corner #91