"What now?"

"What do you mean 'what now?'"

"I mean, we're trapped! So what now?"

"I have no earthly idea. This has never happened to me before."

"You're kidding, right?”

“Nope.”

“...But I thought you were supposed be used to this type of #%&?!"

"I literally just told you this has never happened to me before, so why would you assume that?"

"Because you...URRRRGH! Goddess, you're infuriating. And worthless. What good are you?"

"What good am I? This line coming from the celibate sex-demon? Hilarious. You missed your comedic calling."

[unintelligible]

"What was that?"

"I said I utterly loathe you."

"Feeling's mutual, short-stack."

"#%& you!"

"#%& you!"

[cross-talk]

He's lying in bed in the dark, taking in the ambient sounds of a another day passed. Crickets outside sing to him, the house subtly creeks and groans as it settles. The stillness is calming, a quiet he doesn't believe he'd ever take for granted. He turns to his window to see a soft light briefly pass through his thin curtains. He gets up and makes his way outside.

He's in his backyard now, barefoot on the soft grass. He looks up and a star filled night sky looks down. He takes in the sight, his gaze gratefully roves across the starlit heavens. Another wave of calm washes over him. He makes his way to the front yard. He stands by his older brother's dogwood tree and looks up again. The last remnants of clouds flow by and give way to the white light of the moon that gently covers the earth.

He closes his eyes and imagines himself floating away. He turns to look down on the house and yard and everything else aglow from the celestial body. He sees himself, and he cries and prays for peace for the boy standing next to his brother's tree.

Edinson Grippen took in the sights of the city as his taxi took him down a busy street. Office buildings on either side of the vehicle stretched far enough into the sky that even the clouds had to acquiesce their ambitious reach. The driver came up to a light and took the opportunity to chat his fare up.

“You new here?” he asked with an accent that announced the city as his birthplace.

Grippen looked back down and smiled slightly, meeting the driver’s eyes that were reflecting in the rearview mirror front from the front seat.

“That easy to tell?”

The driver snorted before fixing his attention back on the road. “Barely get anybody these days that looks up at the scrapers the way you do, all doe-eyed and shit.” He took a right at the light, narrowly missing a cyclist taking the crosswalk at the wrong time. “These fucking guys, I swear to God…” he muttered, before rolling his window down and yelling in the cyclist’s direction. “Watch where you’re going, idiot! You almost fucking died!”

Grippen looked at the indifferent cyclist as he continued to cross the street, never turning around to acknowledge the driver or his advice. Under normal circumstances, Grippen wouldn’t correct the man about his statement. But today was no normal day. Or the next few days, for that matter, so he decided to share the good news with him.

“That man wasn’t in any danger of dying,” Grippen said calmly.

“Oh, yeah?” came the driver’s incredulous reply. “And how do you know that?”

“Because I didn’t smell any oranges before you made that turn.”

The driver’s gaze snapped up to the rearview mirror as he took them into a tunnel. “I’m sorry, what? You didn’t smell any...oranges, so that idiot lives to fight another day?”

“That is the long and short of it, yes,” came Grippen’s reply.

“And if you had?”

“Then he’d be dead.”

The driver had to pry his eyes away from the man in the backseat to focus on the road again. He chuckled to himself-more to calm his nerves than anything, then tightened his grip on the steering wheel as he mentally struggled with the fact that he had a fucking weirdo sitting behind him.

“Change of plans,” Grippen said suddenly, as he began sniffing the air around him. “When you come out of this tunnel, take a right at the light. Go down three blocks before making a left. I’m going to need you to stop at the apartment complex there and let me out.”

The driver’s knuckles had gone white from his death grip on the steering wheel.

“How the fuck did you know there’s an apartment in that area? Who the fuck are you?”

A larger smile took to Grippen’s face this time. “My name is Edinson Grippen, and I’m getting a whiff of citrus from that direction. You are in no danger, so please just follow my directions, if you would, mister…?”

“Frankie,” the increasingly nervous driver said.

“If you would, Mr. Frankie,” Grippen said in the sweetest voice he had.

Frankie promptly shut up and began following Grippen’s directions the moment they exited the tunnel. It wasn’t long before he pulled up to the apartment complex that both he and this man that claimed to be new to the city knew about. He parked on the right side of the road and looked up to the dilapidated building on his left. Frankie had grown up in this apartment complex when he was a child. The place was deathtrap, and he wondered to this day how it managed to stay open. Grippen’s previous words came to the forefront of his thoughts, and he swallowed the knot in his throat before asking him a question he was terrified of knowing the answer to.

“Do you...smell them better now?” he meekly asked. “The oranges?”

Edinson Grippen took a deep and slow breath through his nostrils, his eyes closed, and face locked in an unmistakable moment of pure bliss. He exhaled through his mouth before suddenly slamming both palms of his hands against the plexiglass barrier between him and the front seat.

“Yesssssssssssssssss,” Grippen hissed at the man, the excitement of pending death sending chills throughout his entire body.

Frankie took one last look at the man in the mirror and regretted it. Grippen’s eyes were two dilated pupils in a sea of glowing amethyst.

“Keep the meter running, pleassssse,” Grippen said as he exited the vehicle. “This’ll just take a ssssssec.”

Grippen firmly shut the door and leaned against the taxi and waited, his glowing eyes affixed on the building in front of him. A building that was quickly filling up with smoke by the second. Soon the entire building was engulfed in flames. Windows were being broken or lifted, the heads of the people still trapped inside poking out, trying to inhale anything other than smoke. Grippen began uttering a silent prayer of thanks for the meal he was about to receive.

Just then, a man hanging out of his window some stories up suddenly leaped, taking his chances with a hard landing over a fiery death. Grippen knew, however, that there was no choice or chance for him. He landed head first on the concrete walkway just near the grass, his head bending at an awkward angle, the rest of his body doing its best impression of an accordion. Grippen finally stood up from leaning against the taxi and made his way across the street towards the growing inferno.

Sirens could be heard in this distance at this point, but it was already too late. More and more people with any strength left began hurling themselves from their windows to their deaths. The scent of oranges was overpowering everything in the vicinity for Grippen, while his amethyst eyes showed him the reality of the situation; everyone in this building was either dead or dying. He stopped amid the broken bodies of the flightless and scanned the height of the scorched apartment. The heat of the building would’ve been felt by anyone else nearby, but the chill of death surrounded Grippen, shutting the primordial energy out entirely. Purple flames of death burned brighter than the ones that were orange, and whorls of brightly colored “soul smoke” seeped from the windows and brickwork itself to flow upwards and in the opposite direction than that of their gray counterpart. “No reds,” Grippen said to no one in particular. “Good souls, all. But no matter, I’ve waited long enough. I must feast.”

Grippen outstretched both arms and violently lifted his head to the sky. His mouth opened well past the point of a normal human’s, a bass filled hum emanating from the now gaping maw. The purple flames in the building reacted to the call and flew out of the building from all sides, coalescing into one stream headed directly for Grippen’s mouth. He inhaled the flames eagerly, his throat working to swallow the death essence as quickly as it came. His eyes now burned with power, a light purple smoke rising from each socket. His hands clenched and unclenched as he continued to absorb the flames until nothing was left but a regular burning building.

Frankie sat in the car with a puzzled look on his face. He watched Grippen the entire time as he walked towards the complex, stretched out his arms and looked straight up like an idiot. But even with the fact that Grippen was clearly on some rare and powerful form of narcotic, and close to racking up $150 in fare, Frankie had seen enough death for one day and was ready to go home. He let his window down and tried to get Grippen’s attention without sounding confrontational.

“You bout done over there, buddy?” he said with a voice tinged with concern. And for the second time today, he regretted his actions when it involved this man.

Grippen finally let his arms down and slowly turned to face Frankie’s way. What the cab driver wasn’t aware of before, he was now. Grippen’s mouth still hung open unnaturally, only now it glowed with a purple fire that urged Frankie to void his bowels and flee. The impossible grin that formed on Grippen’s face didn’t help, nor what came after.

“Frankiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeee,” Grippen drunkenly slurred, his eyes glowing alight once again at the sight of the driver. Even though he was across the street, the frightened man heard his name spoken all around him. The hairs on his neck instantly stood on end.

The light in Grippen’s eyes was purple, but it might as well have been green as far as Frankie was concerned, because it was definitely time to go. “Don’t worry about paying, buddy. This one’s on the house. You take care and never call another taxi again in your life, you got it?”

Regaining a semblance of his composure, Frankie calmly rolled his window up, fastened his seatbelt and took off down the street. Before he rounded the corner, he ripped the rearview mirror clean off his windshield and stuffed it in the glove compartment.

For the longest time my most favorite moment in a movie theater had been when I took a friend to see The Grudge. There was a scene where Sarah Michelle Geller's character is riding on a bus when Sadako (the antagonist) appears in the bus window's reflection, complete with her trademark guttural groan. The entire theater freaked out, myself included. Never thought that moment would take a backseat to anything after that.

Fast forward to 2015 and I've been on message boards reading about a horror movie that had no business being as good as it was. The name of the film was It Follows, and after having read an almost sickening level of praise for the film, I decided to go see it. I hit up a local Movie Tavern and buy my ticket. Before I find a seat, I order some Honey Pepper wings from their concession area. Those wings are delicious, even though they cost an arm and a leg. I find my seat after that and wait for my order to come in.

The movie finally starts and I'm welcome to a very nostalgic type of music that I haven't heard in a horror film since the 80s. Very good work by Disasterpeace on that. The film continues on rather mundanely until it finally happens. The MC is being stalked by a supernatural force that only appears visible to the people directly affected by it. She's in her room with her friends when another friend opens her door. The shot itself is perfect. There's her friend at the door's entrance, but there's this long shadow that fills the hallway. All of a sudden, an extremely tall man walks up behind her friend, ducking his head to get inside the room, making for a delightfuly uncomfortable scene. Now I personally love stuff like this. It's why I watch horror films in the first place. But there was a lady in the theater that was so completely undone by what she saw that she screamed out just as loud the main character did, then ran out of the theater. Everybody else in their seats either laughed or applauded, as those were the only two responsese that made sense.

To this day, that has remained my favorite moment in a movie theater. Yes, even edging out Captain America summoning Mjolnir to beat down Thanos.

So much blood had been spilled this day. The Orenthul blossoms would be a deep crimson for centuries. Queen Salvia of the Green took in all the carnage that surrounded her. Friend and foe lay mangled and broken at her feet, the once fertile ground now slick with mud, blood, and oil. The latter came from the wretched armaments her enemies placed themselves in so they could keep pace with her people. They fought low in the trees, using the exhaust to choke the inhabitants that lived further above in the canopy. When hit, the pipes carrying the accursed fuel burst spectacularly, spraying the black liquid all over the forest. It was a parting gift that she could live without.

How long had this seige lasted, she wondered. This last wave had to have been the eight one. These wretched humans bred like rabbits. Having sent the last of her men to finish evacuating the denizens of the forest city to the outskirts, she was the only opposition left. Her body ached in every place imaginable, and she had long given up on hand to hand combat. No, her body and home had paid dearly for it. Now she was forced to use the land itself as a weapon, a powerful last resort.

A new wave was approaching. Though she was a far distance away from them, the land told her as much. The same count as the last time, but a different armament? She took to the trees, her form almost melding with them, as she propelled herself to the highest point available to her. She reached the top in no time and scanned the edge of the forest where the army was entering. Her curiosity over the new weapon type was answered when a massive fireball erupted from the treeline ahead of her.

They were burning her forest. Her home.

Salvia descended a little towards one of the huts that had been recently abandoned. She knew this home, its occupants now hopefully safe. She made her way inside and sat down on a stool near the room's center. She could barely contain the sobs forcing their way through her body. She needed to focus, so she pulled the last image of her husband, the King, into her mind. He left the Grove in perfect health on a peaceful visit to the human rulers, only to return a bloated, unrecognizable mess. Poisoned, most likely. Her retaliation had been swift and ferocious, turning numerous human outposts near the grove into plant covered rubble. Any and all trade routes the nearby kingdom had were cut off. They had been isolated completely. There was no help coming. However, the humans numbered so many, they reacted with a great force once they were backed into a corner.

And now she was bearing witness to their resolve.

She left the hut, descended to the ground, then made her way to the center of the forest town. She stood in a clearing and began summoning roots from the earth. They tangled and twined their way about her body, lifting her in the air and covering everything but her head. With a single command from her, the forest came alive, the trees uprooting from the ground and moving towards the main enemy forces with a purpose. She didn't know how this day would end, but she did know of the peculiar ways of humans. They sang songs of important events in their short lifespans. And she was surer than anything that after she painted the land with the blood of her enemies, she would no longer be known as Salvia of the Green, but Red Silvia of the Living Forest.

I can still remember this eerie night. Not like it was yesterday or anything, but still very much unforgettable. I'm in bed asleep, dreaming. Can't remember what, but I know I had been under long enough to hit REM status. I'm out like a light, dreaming of whatever a kid dreamed of back in the early 90s. But something happened while I was alseep. Something that, to this day, has NEVER occured again while I've been at rest.

I just woke up.

Not groggily, like any other day of waking up, but up and ALERT. And as soon as I'm up, I see a little girl standing at the foot of my bed. She's wearing old fashioned clothes, fit wth bows and ribbons. I'm staring at her and she's staring at me. Unfortunately for her, I wasn't in the mood to talk, so I did what any kid having come face to face with the dearly departed would do: I lunged at her while screaming.

But I was clever back then, and the lunge was actually a feint. Right before I got to her, I changed my direction and flicked the HELL out of my light switch. She vanished as soon as it came on. Years later, I would tell this story to my sister and mother, with my sister stating that she saw the same exact girl in the small hallway of our mobile home years before I did. Our mobile home existed on the same plot of land, only at different times.

And that's my story.

Tiny spiders that tend to show up and dip out as soon as you see them? Adorable. Nickel sized spiders that show up looking lost? Let them go on their way. Anything larger than that with big legs and can’t help but move in an alien manner? Somebody other than me kill it, because I can’t be in the same room with it.

And there in lies my “fear.” The bigger the arachnid, the easier I cower. I’d honestly just rather be afraid of them all, or not at all. The various levels of response actually kind of bother me. I would love to conquer this fear. Unfortunately, I’m not a huge fan of exposure thereapy, and I’m not intersted in taking drugs for it, so my solution is a fictional one. I will manifest a power to control spiders telephathically. It will run as a passive abililty until the day of my death, telling larger spiders to not be anywhere remotely near me. An arachnid restraining order, if you will. This ability can also pass on to my offspring.

Problem solved.