Harpsichord

Anthony's heart trembled as he used the rusted crowbar to pry the nails out of the large shipping crate. The postmark had nearly been torn away by the elements. The only word that could be recognized from the sender was "England". The large wooden panels began to fall away as he continued his furious-near frantic- releasing of his prize.
it wasn't uncommon for a large box to arrive for him, but this one was special. Ancient runes and strips of warding wax coated the entire inner case. He grinned and pawed at them, pulling them off like a kid unwrapping Christmas presents. The wax was still warm, and small "piffft" sounds marked the breaking of the wards. It would only be a matter of time before his long wait bore fetid fruit. Those who'd tortured him, belittled his studies and insane attempt to contact the other world would all have their pathetic notions shattered once he unearthed his treasure, and mastered it's unknowable secrets.
He'd found it by accident, an estate sale by uninterested children. The old man's stuff was old and musty and boring and they were glad to be rid of it for whatever price anyone would pay. S, on that rainy September day he'd purchased a few trinkets, a few assorted boxes but this...THIS...was his prize. The other purchases were to throw off those who would try and claim it for themselves. He'd known there were others, but they'd had the nerve to stay home, leaving this all to him.
Oh, the price of shipping it home was murder, but money would be a minor bother once he'd released the true nature.

He grinned, pulling the last of the wax off the case. Here it stood, in all it's majestic glory. Anthony awed at it, feeling the power within. With a shaky hand, he gently lifted the old, weather-beaten lid. The whole thing looked like it had been wrecked long ago, or build from aged driftwood. There was an ominous creak as the lid lifted, a final warning to the dark power within. He pulled up a stool and placed his hands gently upon the keys. His fingers resting ever delicately on the old cracked and jagged ivory. His eyes drifted closed as in his throat, ancient words formed, infusing the beast with life once more. It had been too long, and Anthony could feel the hunger within drawing his life into it. It was a willing sacrifice. Anthony remained chanting even as his fingers bled onto the dark brown bars. The Harpsichord would once again play it's music, the damned melody of a hundred thousand years. The dulcid tones would waft over every inch of the earth, compelling his will into form and remaking all of reality to his whim. The little men who'd been master before had limited vision, petty desires. they knew only the basics of the power they touched, and in the end, thier ignorance consumed all they were. Good riddance. They deserved thier short-sighted oblivion. The lives taken, destroyed by this infernal machine only urge Anthony to give more. He was its master, its lord, and tomorrow, he would be more. Tomorrow, he would be a god.

Woman

Harold shuddered in his makeshift shelter, a drooping cardboard box in a filthy alley. Buildings towered everywhere, providing little more defense against the rain than his rapidly deteriorating cover. He needed somewhere dryer to spend this warm August night and this just wasn't cutting it. he grabbed his pack and pulled his jacket close before hurling himself into the streets to seek a more adequate place to hide from the sky's furious torrent.
Dodging the heavy weekend traffic, he crossed streets to the angry protests of car horns and less than polite drivers. They saw him as a vermin, a sub-human thing that leeched off the scraps they'd worked so hard to have the privilege of throwing away. To them, the scavanging creature was a nuscience to be crushed or at least to pretend it's existence simply was untrue.
He'd never begged. He didn't ask nor bother anyone for his continued well being. He had a pride unseen since the days of the ancients. The boldness of a greek epic hero flowed through him veins and he would be damned before he let a little thing like being destitute and homeless even slow his progress. He knew what he was doing and where he needed to be.

He ducked into the doorway of a nearby restraunt, knowing that he had no more than a few moments before the owner came out to shoo him into the screaming rain once more. he took a moment to assess his situation and removed the only thing he had left from his pocket. The strange device that led to his ruin still glowed gently, a reassuring and ominous sign of thing to come and all he'd lost. He looked at it for just a moment, fearful that others might notice and covet it themselves, and returned it to its silk bag, which rested within his shirt, keeping it close to his heart. he smiled and looked onward before straightening and stepping back into the rain. Ahead of him loomed the tower of industry he'd once called his domain. Since his departure it had fallen into complete ruin housing only the worst of humanity -the murderous hearts and the cruel take-it-all greeders that fed on anything and everything they could pull into thier gaping maws hungry for more and more until they devoured entire lives. And at the center sat her. That woman. the one unerringly fatal force that sucked clean every good and noble spirit that sought to even challenge her complete empire of terror, unbeknownst to anyone who could do anything to stop her from consuming everything within the city.
Nobody knew where she'd come from and nobody cared to ask. To be honest, very few were even aware that she existed in the first place. She never left the building and was only seen in passing glances-fleeting images caught in dirty windows and broken mirrors. But she was there, the heart of this great beast that was ravenously engulfing the city's resources at an alarming rate, with the oblivious residents fighting thier mundane lives in abject ignorance.

Finite

"It's running out."
I spoke to noone, keeping my thoughts racing, the blur of formulae and figures blazing through my skull like nighttime traffic.
I shuffled through papers, frantic for an answer or just some small detail i may have missed.
"It's got to be a mistake, there's no way..."
I stopped, my hand resting on a sheet of paper stained with coffee smudges and too much eraser trauma. My eyes fixed on the numbers there, which seemed to sway and dance as I examined the incomprehensible scrawl of my years-past handwritings.
I sat down, slumped really, collapsing onto my chair like a sack of defeated potatoes.
"I knew it all along, didn't I? "

I picked up the phone once my shock wore off and called Annette. She'd warned me not to tamper but i kept going, kept pushing myself to find a better solution. great, her machine. At least it would still listen to me and wasn't yet tired of my endless rants.
"Anne, hey. I really need to talk to you face to face. it's about ...that thing I've been doing. Kind of important, really in a bad place here. Call me. "

I hung up and went back to the paper-strewn research room, brushing away the notes and schematics and picked up the suit. The circuitry was still exposed, the open wounds still showing with little sparks every so often just to let me know it was still alive. It had been a long time since the off switch had fuctioned, so now it was constantly draining. I only now realized that it was dangerously close to ending more than a few crimes and crises. I looked it over once more, this crackilng, popping thing that I'd used so many times for the benefit of everything, the instrument of my greatest achievements lying broken in my hand, begging to be repaired.-pleading with me to return it to its former glory. And what a glory it was. the world praised our deeds, everything we'd done in the few short years since that first concept entered my head. I lay it out on the work table and smoothed the soft cloth carefully. How could this simple suit and a little bit of science have allowed such amazing acts?
And, similarly, how could my shortsightedness have now been what looks to be the certain demise of the entire universe? I sat down, staring at the phone and waiting for Anne to call.

The phone woke me from an unintended sleep, and i eagerly answered it, to the irritated voice.
"Well, what is it? I told you to leave me alone. I don't want anything to do with you anymore. Accept it."
I took a breath and spoke calmly, making sure to not let my ever-increasing frustration grow. "Anne, this isn't about us, this is only about the suit. I'm in a lot of trouble here, and i need you to come over right now to help. I honestly wasn't going to call, but you're the only one who I can trust with this."
She breathed a heavy, annoyed breath into the reciever, and then to my relief,"Okay. I'm on my way over."

I didn't clean up anything. i knew her well enough to know that any sign of effort would be seen as an attempt to win her back. Tonight wasn't about that ship, which i'd let sink though honestly I'd pushed it into the depths. I unlocked the door and sent her a text, telling her to come on in and I went back to my suit.

I'd been so proud. using major luck and a few insane theories, I'd managed to make a portable reality manipulation device. I mean, imagine it, the ability to warp anything you can imagine in any way you wanted, and I managed to make it a reality. the irony wasn't lost i assure you.
But, errors in my calculations caused the changes to draw too much from the universe, straining the bonds and ultimately drawing upon the very fundamental components of creation istelf. And the universe's ability to repair itself after i made my changes turned out to be more finite than i'd ever realized...

Once more with feeling

Alrighty, been motivated by an event called 48 hour magazine. New posts coming starting Monday ^^

New Year, New times

Starting back up tomorrow. Be here for updates!