Dead Horses

There weren’t always dragons in the valleys. My editor had me start with that. But that’s not how the story begins. In fact, this story has nothing to do with dragons or a valley. The story begins with the end. Not my end. Oh, no. Time infinite does not have an end. No, no, I’m sorry to tell you this, but it’s your end. Yes, let me start over.

The end of the world began with breasts. There was nothing particularly special about these breasts. They existed and that was that. They did not shoot lasers or freeze ice. They weren’t even overly attractive. They sort of just existed. They were not pert, shapely, magnificent globes, or any other descriptions of breasts common with such stories.

One breast was larger than the other. They were terribly pale, or rather as pale as they could be considering they were tan. But in comparison with the rest of the body attached to said breasts, they were pale. They weren’t pale globes of moonlight standing proudly to the sky begging to be touched or fondled.

Instead, they simply existed and at times the nipples hardened. Not wondrously, but rather painfully, extremely sensitive. Other times the pain served to remind the person attached to these pieces of flesh of said flesh, thus alarming the individual as to whether or not the pain was a heart attack or rather just breast pain. Said individual would usually wait an hour or so to see if they died, and since they were still alive, it was then just average pain.

The two pieces of flesh were once described as “nice”, but the person saying it had immediately averted their gaze elsewhere. So how accurate that statement may be, is questionable.

And I suppose if we’re talking about these two flesh globes, then we must also mention the rest of the flesh attached to it. Said flesh had two legs attached, not particularly long, not particularly attractive, as they had stretch marks at the hips, but they were good for moving the rest of the flesh. They had two arms with a good amount of flesh and two hands attached at the ends with fingers attached to --listen you get it. The flesh attached to said world-ending breasts had shape and bones. Good bones. Good for walking and stuff.

I suppose this flesh had a name as it becomes overly tedious to keep writing “flesh .” If you must know, which I suppose you must, the breasts with flesh attached were named Arath. Not a bad name all things considered, but- certainly not Mleu, or Bauydty.

This woman, for she was a woman even if not overly beautiful, sat currently clothed in only a sheer negligee. Where she was currently hunched over the desk, being pounded by applied and quantum bound murmmutation according to the Grand Kailkor Leqk. And she was not the only one.

In the room, bare of all but the essentials including a pot for matter, sat sixty students of various ages, all clothed in the same sheer negligee, regardless of sex. There they sat at the wooden desk, backs bent, minds straining to remember the six rules for conjuration and intonation. Their hopes and dreams resided solely in this room, for this was the exam of exams. The one that had brought so much mind-numbing terror.

There Arath sat, currently struggling to remember the rules of -7 century replacements in advanced molecular bondage. She did not know at that time that the end of the world was close. There she sat, quite uncomfortably, for the chair was not made for long bouts of sitting and she had not been blessed by the good mother with a prominent behind. She thought for a moment that there were impressive odds concerning the number of bruises she would end up with from this wretched chair.

**********************************************************

In another part of the world, at the same time, sat the Powers. Although “sat” would probably be the wrong word, for it implied humanness. I supposed they could be considered human in the same sense that a tree is considered human simply because it is alive. These powers, although given shape, were not human as one such as yourselves would define human. They existed, simply because they have always been.

Here, they “sat”, playing the game. The one they always played when bored, which was often. For Powers rarely have things to do. You wouldn’t see a Power going through the market shopping unless they were a very small power. And so, the Powers played with humans, much like humans play with ants-taking a magnifying glass to the small creatures to see what happens. Curiosity is a terrible thing. Much like boredom. Curiosity, boredom, and power interacting is a very dangerous concoction. So there the powers were, Death, Life, Passion, Reality, and all the others were beginning the game. A new game. Powers help the humans. A new game. Very dangerous idea.

“I’m bored.” Said Death. Oftentimes when one imagines Death, they imagine a tall man with a scythe, or some other scary weapon, just waiting to take souls. But this was a child. A small petulant child, who at that moment was bored. Very bored.

“You’re always bored.” Replied Life, who unlike Death was an old human-looking thing. The gender was unneeded and quite difficult to tell. It was like a mannequin, genderless, although with skin sagging. Clearly, Life had been through some stuff. “Go play with the people, I’m sure they’re missing you.” They were not.

“Nothing exciting ever happens.” Death whined, much like the child it appeared to be.

“How about a game then? Cities?”

“No.”

“Prophecies found?”

“…”

“Droughts? Famines? Doubtful lineages? Rampant lies? God men?”

“How about a new game?” a voice asked. A voice that not even the powers enjoy hearing. This one didn’t play by the rules. Not that any of the Powers played by rules, but still, it’s the thought that counts. This one, if it were human, would have sauntered, sashayed, even strutted up to the table. But in this case, it simply appeared. Bored.

“A new game?” Death asked, its eyes gleaming.

“What kind of game?” Life was suspicious. It didn’t get this far and this old without learning a thing or two.

“Circumstances.”

Death and Endings exchanged a glance, like dogs scenting meat. If they were human, they probably would have been salivating at this idea.

“Pick your weapon.” Death declared.

“Done.”

As I said, boredom, curiosity, and Power are a terrible mix. A terrible thing indeed.

*****

It is an unfortunate truth that oftentimes those with connections abuse the system for their gains. Take, for example, him. Somehow oozing power and status while being essentially naked. He, unlike the rest, had nothing to worry about. His father of the Tethere would never allow his firstborn to fail. It didn’t matter if it happened, it would simply not happen. With his connections, wealth, and knowledge, the son wouldn’t have anything to worry about.

I mean, just look at him, sitting at the desk diagonal from Arath. Instead of even pretending to care about the exam, he’s instead ogling, staring, dare I saw salivating at Arath’s chest. Not even the best chest in the room, but preference I suppose. All through the exam, blatant. If he were anyone else, the peacestayers would have struck him, but even they couldn’t touch him. All they could do now was shake their head, although not too distractingly, lest his sight wanders to them and he tells his father.

He does this all through the exam, right up to the enscribing, which is how the end begins, remember. You thought I forgot, didn’t you? Ecsribren in hand, with the will to write anything. Write, and so it becomes life. Or something like that. It’s not like he really remembers how the saying goes at this point, too busy lusting. He meant to write something different, I’m sure, but as you know by now, he was a little… busy. Honest mistake. Truly could have happened to anyone. And yet… it did happen.

See, I told you the end began with breasts. All this because one family had power and their son is an idiot. Oh, wait, my bad. Was. He was an idiot. Unfortunately, once he enscribed, he exploded and splattered around the room, staining the walls and everything else. You know, they say time plus tragedy equals comedy. And I supposed one-day people may sit together reminiscing, laughing about the end of the world. The few that are still left, but no one was laughing now.

Now the end began, and dare I say, I’m interested to see how it plays out