History: In acknowledgement of the true scope and difficulty involved in meticulously conducting every constituent aspect of a video game by myself, I erroneously assumed that confining my ideas to an entirely textual medium would be decidedly more feasible as a sole venture. I disassembled the skeletal framework of the video game plot and, as the narrative was expanded and fleshed out, I became fixated on grounding the fantastical elements with a basis on the scientific and technological discoveries made during the turn of the twentieth century in the fields of telecommunication, electromagnetic radiation, and radioactivity. Desirous of entrenching my version of science fiction within an assiduously defined set of constraints which precisely delineated the operation, practicality, and consequent applicability of a new element and its associated empirical phenomena, I filled white boards with invented formulas and graphs of step-wise functions to detail the behaviors witnessed and harnessed by the characters in this universe. Additionally, I obsessively planned the interwoven arcs of each individual and attempted to ensure that their development would remain properly paced and logically consistent throughout the entire duration of the overly-complex narrative. Within a year or so, I ended up with over one-hundred thousand words of notes.
Concerning the book itself, this single, opening chapter represents all that I managed to actually accomplish.
***
A proud, navy flag, emblazoned with intricate volute designs stitched from a garish, silver fabric, somnolently undulates in the gentle gust of a dying breeze. A polished wooden pole is tightly fastened to a single edge of the rippling flag and, unperturbed by the tepid wind, remains unwavering, staunchly affixed to the ground amongst a gathered pile of crumbling rubble and broken shards of ceramic roof shingles. Journeying defiantly past the tethered flag, an abandoned thoroughfare, comprised of compacted gravel and saturated clumps of rust-colored mud, is laden with deep impressions of overlapping, sunken footfalls that are disparate and inharmonious with respect to both direction and stride. Innumerable holes of varying diameter and depth punctuate a low, stone wall that borders the quiet path, staining its cracking surface with a thin dusting of leaden powder. Bound along its perimeter by the chipped wall, an unoccupied, venerable residence, once a testament to the hospitable grandeur exemplifying prestigious, old country retreats, rests in a pitiable state of plaintive solemnity. On its front face, a single splintered shutter somberly hangs, pendulous and limp, from a rusted iron hinge beside the shattered panes of a window’s dust riddled glass. Fragmented pieces of an exploded shell have bored into the eastern side, vehemently tearing painted bricks from their mortar and listlessly casting them down upon the fastidiously tended garden beneath, crushing its contents. In the stillness evinced in the wake of the passing destruction, the remaining gabled roof mournfully creaks and bows in protestation of its own weight. Reticulated vines are badly singed, though still gracefully cling, with evident insouciance to the unsettling melancholy that has befallen their surroundings, to the scarred remnants of the building’s aged facade. From the open fields of knotted, wild grass that span the valley receding into the distance, the lifeless remains of provincial homes arise like decaying headstones in an ancient graveyard, heavily silhouetted against the vibrancy of the red hues of the setting sun. This diffusion of light from along the western horizon drifts with tranquil lassitude like a pall across the gnarled foliage and sporadic buildings, tinging all it settles upon with an almost preternatural glow of vivid, resplendent ruby. The tones of the pervading, languid haze are reflected in the luster of two black, inscrutable eyes, as an animated shadow is cast from the fretting flag along the lower portion of narrow, handsome lineaments belonging to a gentleman around forty-five years of age.
The man brushes untamed strands of thick, black hair out of the way of his austere gaze, before cuffing and rolling the sleeves of his loose-fitting collared shirt cinched beneath a buttoned, tattered vest. The elevated bones and veins of his thin, calloused hands prominently protrude as he tightly grasps the leather strap of his heavy knapsack, which has been closely secured in a diagonal fashion across his lithe frame. He heads east, towards the inexorable advancement of the muted blue shades of dusk, leaving a bold trail of his shoes’ markings atop the bevy of cacophonous imprints pressed into the surface of the dirt path. Clouds of swirling smoke rise and dissipate above the verdant canopy overhanging a sparse grouping of bent, prodigious trees that emerge from amongst the vast emptiness of farmland and sweeping plains nearby. Deferring to the guidance of the smoke, the man resolutely trudges forward, soon finding himself on the outer reaches of the forest where the thin smattering of trees gradually capitulates to a flat clearing along the banks of a spirited river. Nestled against the woods, a row of white canvas tents neatly interspersed with few constructed cooking pits constitutes the edge of a meager encampment. Unhitched wooden conveyances and wagons dispersed throughout the site are burdened with crates of unloaded provisions, consisting of an assortment of guns, bladed weapons, salted meats, dried vegetables, unworn pairs of boots displaying a dull sheen, folded uniforms dyed in hues of silver and blue, and various cooking implements. Squinting through the harshness of the direct, low-angled rays of the crepuscular sun, the man notices shallow trenches dug beyond the tents, which he has rapidly ascertained from the festering swarms of flies and undeniable smell wafting from their depths to be the latrines. The furthest end of the bivouac from the tents houses a line of horses that are each tied with a fraying rope to a wooden post driven into the soggy, amenable ground. At the middle of the encircling encampment, a recognizable navy flag of gaudy decoration is situated ostentatiously, where it rests, unmoving, upon its pole. An air of subdued jocularity settles amongst the men and women seated around the fires of the pits as they play songs of great evident popularity, draw protracted drags of cigarettes, and surreptitiously deal cards outside the ascetic watch of their superiors. In the uninterrupted blackness of the encroaching night, even the low-burning light of the shrinking flames shines luminously. Upon determining the lateness of the hour, a soldier of apparent status gruffly commands her subordinates to retire. Reluctantly, the jovial melodies and rhythmic interludes elicited from the euphonious unity of instrument and voice immediately fall silent, while the waning embers of the dying fires are unceremoniously extinguished. Few stragglers slowly head to their respective tents. Lowering himself into the shade formed from the elongated shadow of an ancient elm lain across the clotted, muddied ground, the man awaits, with calm, stoic anticipation, the muffled sounds of sleep to permeate the otherwise still expanse of unlit dwellings.
The shade of the crooked trees thrown from the sinking sun spreads and blurs, disappearing into a morass of shadows as the last vestiges of the striking red hues fade from the sky. Reposed against the grooved trunk and twisted roots of the elm, the man reaches beside him for a hand lantern that harbors a tiny, blue flame flickering within its glass and surveys the camp for indications of activity. Nothing moves save a few mounted, armed sentries. Enshrouded by the cover of the moonless night, the man crouches behind patches of dried brush and cautiously steps around fallen branches while heading towards the assemblage of tents and their sleeping residents. Kneeling quietly behind the row, he carefully sets down the lantern and unfurls his left-hand. His wiry fingers twitch almost imperceptibly as they trace, with mechanical precision, along the seams of the taut fabric.
The irrepressible smell of smoke and burning cloth thickly disperses through the unremitting darkness.
An unintelligible clamor reverberates through the camp as soldiers, dressed in their bedclothes and encumbered with the grogginess that often succeeds an abruptly terminated slumber, clamber to wrest their supplies from the path of rapidly spreading, deep blue flames. Dirtied pans and bowls still encrusted with the scraps from the evening’s meal are hurriedly carried back and forth from the bank of the neighboring river and poured frantically upon the voracious blaze in desperate attempt to stifle its devastation. Contented with the extent of the ensuing raucousness capturing the attention of the terrified soldiers, the man perambulates with assuredness around the periphery of the camp towards the kept horses. He bends down beside the prosaic, brown mare resting at the furthest location from the demarcation between woods and the clearing, and fixates upon the knot tethering the horse in place.
His fingertips are barely able to make contact with the braided rope.
Slicing swiftly and soundlessly through the dense, ashen air, a bladed weapon with a jagged, serrated edge is pressed threateningly against the pallid skin of the man’s vulnerable neck. An unrepentant grip intertwined amongst the unruly tangle of his black hair virulently forces his head backwards as a whispering voice, quivering and breaking with unrestrained derision, rhetorically asks, “This is your fault, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” His accentuated throat vibrates against the stiff metal as he responds in a tone inexplicably calm and unemotional.
With the employment of a single, deft maneuver, the man pivots his body clockwise while his left-hand clasps with fervid intensity the wrist that steadies the blade, separating it from his body. The effulgence of the fire ravaging the landscape behind the soldier causes an obscuring veil of darkness to drape over her face as she and the man breathe synchronously in stunted, shallow gasps. An ethereal blue light flashes with sudden immediacy, and in its brilliant illumination, the soldier is seen violently convulsing and recoiling in abject terror at the sight of the man’s visage. His irises are alighted and emanating an imperturbably solid blue glow. Glaring into his eyes and brutishly thrashing against the pertinacious malice of his grip, her face becomes transfixed in a grotesque contortion of features, eliciting a countenance of both shock and execrable agony. An oppressive stench, nauseating and acrid, rapidly overwhelms the pair, forcing them to steady their bodies against the insuperable urge to heave and retch. The man’s grasp, however, refuses to be relinquished. The soldier’s horrible expression slowly changes, and her lineaments soften into a pleading look steeped in despondent resignation that is, curiously, numb. The ardency with which the two stare into the other’s eyes remains unabated, and neither display cognizance nor react to the dull, wet thud of the knife dropping to the ground. From afar, few, impassioned footsteps are heard in succession scrambling in their haste to descend upon the intruder. In recognition of the approaching predicament, the man returns his eyes to the cold blackness of their previous state and pries, with discernable difficultly, his uncompromising fingers away from her skin. Blackened chunks of charred flesh cling to his hand during its removal as underlying muscle tendons are stretched taut before snapping and slipping off sections of exposed bone. The soldier staggers backwards upon her release, wracked with pernicious tremors that propagate her weakened frame. Her jaw seizes and her mouth is struck agape in a soundless scream of realization as she instinctually cradles the tenuous fibers and scarred bits of bone that form what little remains of her forearm. The man hurriedly turns from the sickening image left in his wake and sprints to the anxiously braying mare, his eyes soon regaining their unnatural, luminous coloration. A slick coating overspreads his left-hand with a smoothness like poured oil as its surface is ignited in the wild ferocity of deep blue flames. The worn threads of the rope tying the startled animal in place are instantly set ablaze, crackling and curling until their ashes scatter upon the trampled, dead grass below. The man mounts the liberated horse and spurs it into maintaining a frenzied gallop alongside the turbulent flow of the river crashing against the stagnant, immemorial stones that lie in its path.
The clangorous echo of indeterminate cries slowly fades into the distance.