The Mezunian

Die Positivität ist das Opium des Volkes, aber der Spott ist das Opium der Verrückten

Boskeopolis Stories: SCARY CREEPS SUPER MONSTERS KEEPS ME RUNNING BEARSHARE IN THE BACKGROUND

Sarangerel Oktaybr crept thru halls as dark as a black hole, all light sucked out. She fretted ’bout many things, from running into a monster or e’en just a spider or losing her best friend Natmar Černý, who she ’course couldn’t see, or e’en just bumping into her & annoying her.

She was relieved when she heard Natmar’s familiar voice whisper from just ’head, <Saran, ¿you there?>.

<Yeah — I’m right here>.

Tho Saran had tried to be as quiet as she could when whispering, Natmar whispered back with annoyance, <OK, but don’t be so loud, tho>.

After a few mo’ minutes — tho it felt like an eternity — o’ wandering, she heard Natmar whisper, <There it is>.

<¿What is it?>.

<Shh, stand here>.

Saran felt invisible hands clutch her & move her, which chilled her to her fringes, e’en when she kept telling herself ’twas just Natmar.

Natmar whispered, <Now bend down so I can climb on your shoulders>.

Saran nodded, tho she knew Natmar couldn’t see her, & then bent down as Natmar ordered.

<I’m dow—>.

<¡Shhh!>.

She felt Natmar’s heavy weight press down on her back, which hurt quite a bit, tho Saran knew better than to complain.

<All right, now stand up>, whispered Natmar.

Saran put all o’ her strength into standing, which was hard with such heaviness pressing down on her shoulders like anvils. She wrapped her hands round the soft cotton o’ Natmar’s pajama pants round her ankles to keep her steady, since she could feel her legs shaking on her shoulders. Then she waited with her eyes closed & prayed for Natmar to hurry & finish before Saran’s bones collapsed under her weight.

Then she started as she heard & felt a heavy thump right next to her — so much that she would’ve dropped Natmar if she hadn’t realized she was still holding onto her & tightened her heels to the ground.

She felt Natmar climbing down, anyway. But before she could ask her what that noise was, Natmar pulled her round till her hand was on a diagonal block o’ wood.

<Climb up>, Natmar whispered in her ear.

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Posted in Boskeopolis Stories, Short Stories