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Step Into Oblivion (2018)

Soon to be turned into a novel series.

By Coraline KarimPublished 2 years ago 21 min read

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STEP INTO OBLIVION

1

PROLOGUE

The icy-cold barren landscape spread for miles from the man’s perspective, the entire horizon covered in a pure white blanket served a rather ironic purpose of chilling its earthly host. The blackened trees scattered all around his person as if lost in a green, dewy rainforest, but this hellish snow land’s features were monotone – a black and white pattern whose branch tips would tap the drooping sky towards the dip into the curved horizon.

There was not a being in sight, nor a groan, moan or aching yell could be heard through the howling winds that surrounded the nude man. His bare skin attempted to understand the warmth that was being given by his wrapped arms, but proved useless as his smooth, hairless skin served no point in protecting his life. He painfully shivered, his amber eyes staring towards the end of the landscape, the only exit from this prison of a canyon. His white hair floated upward almost wisplike even with the brawling winds traveling around his body, he felt no pressure against himself. His long nails would gash his cold, brittle skin, but the pain would be numbed by the frozen blood. He could no longer feel; his entire body numb and frozen. Presumably a frozen carcass, although he could not experience death, no afterlife or dark and endless void – he was still clearly alive, just dumbfounded by the fact that he was at the end of what seemed to be a canyon. The blackened, dead trees leaned away from his sight as the winds continued to make way towards the end of the horizon and he attempted to push himself to lay on his back rather than his left shoulder – curious to what was behind him.

Abruptly landing on his back, he attempted to wedge his eyes towards the right, but had to rely on his peripherals. All that could be seen was a black wall of rock whose white fingertips reached above his eyes, shrinking its size as it slowly got more parallel with his sight. A dead end. The loud, harsh wind continued to invite him towards the end of its canyon’s horizon, giving him no other choice but to act forward. He realized by now that the mysterious cold will not end his sudden life; his first memory only being his eyelids, the tickle of ice on his naked skin, and the fierce roar of wind around him, but never against him. Such an odd way to start his new life in a wicked world by his lonesome. Growing weary and rather impatient, he reluctantly began to push his entire body upwards, the sound of cracks and brittle bones splitting in the process. Now sitting upright, blood jam began to ooze from all the cracks in his skin due to the gashes from his nails and the forced movement that split a majority of his skin. Unphased from this mishap because of his inability to feel any of the pain due to his icy nerves, he exclaimed at the sight of his toes. The matte black toenails were only a secondary color from his dark purple toes, a few others just being purple stumps. He shifted his head slowly downwards to glance at his midsection – his penis almost microscopic, the shriveled scrotum that blanketed his draping pipe, yet the end of his shaft was clearly a blackened maroon. Bruises covered his chest and thighs, and the sight of it left him expressionless.

He laid his right hand into the deep snow ground, pushing into it to support the first half of his weight and proceeded to move his abdomen upwards followed by his left leg. Each miniscule movement created a loud crack from his skin, the splitting of it that ripped apart the layers of his hairless skin. The smoothness of his body became jagged, bumps and hills protruding from his live corpse, but he successfully managed to rise upwards on his own two feet. His slender figure proved attractive, and his body was rather unharmed from outside forces. He hunched forward and pushed himself forward, the deafening winds traveled with him, leaving him untouched, although creating a pathway through the trees by their unrelenting force.

Each slow step put him closer towards the bright, downward end of the horizon that began to create a sliver of hope for him – his curiosity for what was at this metaphorical finish line only had him hungering for more. The blinding, reflective wall of light that separated the curved end grew and grew; the wind growing louder and more violent by each step executed by his failing body. For what felt like miles, the few fifty steps he counted to himself came to an abrupt stop, but the screeching wind served what he felt for the first time since his unfortunate birth as pain. The ringing in his ear pushed his eyes towards the back of his head and he spread his dry, cracked lips to create a hoarse cry, his hands attempted to cover his ears, but served useless as he dropped to the ground, pushing himself to scream and shout, but the quiet yell could only be muted by the winds push and roar, first cradling him, but in a short time became a violent strike against his exposed back.

He reached for the bright wall that dipped into this end of the horizon, its form proved to be invited from its ghastly wind sibling, and the wind continued to scream, continued to push his shriveled form back, it grew louder, stronger, and fiercer the closer his fingertips got to the wall, and with the last of his humanly power, he released a scream and ripped the skin of his armpit apart and flung his dead arm with his shoulder towards the wall and it became immediately quiet.

The bright wall became meek, and the blinding light dissipated into a new, free landscape of snow. The roaring wind vacated and replaced itself with a silent and gentle wind. The walls of the canyon created an empty gate in front of his person, and the lack of the deadly environment gave him a new version of hope. His left arm wagged as he pushed himself upwards, but he gave his frontal surroundings a second look. Miles upon miles was a rounded wall of mountains, but before all of that was a beautiful land of white snow and bright green grass. He let out a sly chuckle and excitedly, with all of his strength, walked down the hill. He tried to stay upright as he strode down but broke his balance and unfortunately rolled down painstakingly until he came to an abrupt stop. He lifted his head and faced the hill that nearly broke his completely broken body even more, although the canyon up top was no longer in sight, it only mimicked a simple hill of snow. He moved his curiosity behind him, a light voice pulling him towards the open landscape, and shifted his body to notice a sudden snowstorm towards the center of the landscape. From his perspective, it was as wide as he could spread his arms, theoretically of course as his disconnected arm hung from his undead-like body. The whisper urged him forward, now a more comforting voice, almost nurturing – and he accepted its proposal to move into the storm. He walked to his best effort towards it, but this time it slowed down as he grew closer, until the snow floated upwards in the air, its dome blurring whatever was past it – but once again the kind voice invited him in, and he accepted.

He pushed into the dome of snowy air and the frost fell. What was once just a large patch of green grass from a distance was now inhabited by a tall, giant figure. The man had to look upwards, almost too high as his neck began to split the skin since the figure in front of him. The top of their head was accompanied by long silver hair that rested on the snow, their face having mixed features that confused the man in a way. He immediately noticed the missing eye, but it was instead replaced by a glowing blue aura in its center crater, their right eye very humanlike with a pecan-like color, the nose was missing, but not as if it fell off from being completely frozen, but missing by the means of there was none ever present. A slight curve replaced it, though, without an slits for the nostrils as a snake’s would be – only as if there was a third cheek in a way. The lips were glossed, and completely smooth, and the man couldn’t deny the subtle attractiveness of the giantess. A single curved horn was extruded by the ride side of their head, and a long, silk-like robe was worn by them. Only their left hand could be seen out of the robe’s arm, but their right robe’s arm mimicked his left arm’s movement – wavelike.

The figure bent forward as if they needed a closer look, and the man stood wide-eyed by its brilliance, not moving a muscle, but continued to be fascinated by the creature. His body reacted vulnerably; his tensed figure relaxed and his shriveled penis expanded slightly to show his light excitement. The creature spread their lips and exhaled onto him. The warmth covered his frozen body and quickly brought a comfort to him – his split, bloodied skin glistened from the now dripping red liquid that fell into the grass – bruises blurred into his pasty white skin and he let out a loud, painful cry as his chapped, cracked lips became smooth and pink, but unfortunately the gashes throughout his body proved violent as he flailed on the grass screaming but the continuous loss of blood and lack of toes. The giantess stared, their expression blank and they only observed his form of pain, almost too interested in what she did by repairing his once frozen carcass. A pool of blood surrounded him until he lastly shuddered, his face staring into the sky and then towards the giantess. Once again, he was dumbfounded by the idea of him still having the ability to breathe, to live, and somehow not entering the stage of death.

The giantess proceeded to kneel down and gently raised the man with their only hand and smiled.

“Welcome, my child.” They said with a smooth, deep voice, like a wise old grandfather whom spent the last of his days rocking on his chair, staring at infinite sunsets, “I have once again waited for your return – and now we may continue what we started.”

They finished with the same nurturing voice that he heard before the snowstorm, an immediate switch in voices, but the man continued to be amazed by its presence – wide eyed and blood rushing to his working genitals.

They brushed their empty arm across his naked, bare body and a relaxing sensation filled his mind, almost euphoric and sexual, he began to exclaim slow moans and quiet sighs until a subtle eruption extruded from the tip of his hard penis and the pain that was once surrounding his slender body was no more. The giantess proceeded to lay him back onto the warm grass and motioned their hand towards his toe stumps.

“Foolish Mal’Ek, continuously failing me.” They said as their long sharp nails hovered over his feet, “but, I cannot blame you for that. You continue to show me brave loyalty, my ronin.” And they impaled their nails into his feet, but he showed no reaction – only pleasant sensation from their previous magicks. The four toe stumps grew back into their human limbs, and while he laid on his back, he still managed to raise his neck and observe the miracle.

“Four lives are too many… they grow stronger with each death.” They looked into his eyes, the icy, arachnid voice created fear into his eyes and they hunched forward towards his face, so close that they may as well have touched lips and the giantess whispered, “This will be your final chance. Fail and your master will be at the mercy of her power. I wish to keep you close to me, but if I must, I will not hesitate to keep you trapped in that prison.”

The deep voice echoed throughout the free landscape, a gentle wind surrounded the two as the man could only react with quick breaths.

The giantess rose upwards, towering over his napping body, and he quickly rose up with his free hand, the left still being limp from his previous mishap.

“I don’t understand.” He replied truthfully, “what is it that I must do?”

He was eager for a response, the odd events that have occurred have only proved terrible – his entire existence was made only moments ago, but he was still created in a similar image of this somewhat mystical being.

The giantess drifted back towards the center of the grass, pulling the man with them. The surroundings felt as if they were getting smaller as the giantess pulled him towards them; the large grass patch shrinking the more they reach the center until the edge was only a few feet from them. A dome of snow began to surround them, floating upwards around them, but blurring the outside world. The giantess faced him and a gentle facial expression was shared towards him.

“You are Mal’Ek; my child born through rebellion. You will eventually remember all that

you’ve lost, but make sure to learn from them.” The giantess’ nurturing voice was being used in a way to show false confidence. She began to float upwards towards the ceiling of the snow dome and looked down onto the so-called Mal’Ek and gave her final words – words that would send the same chilling winds and ghastly screams from the canyon back into his frail figure, but only amplified.

“This is our final chance. Do not fail I, I who am the worlds. I who am creation. I who am the end.”

And the giantess reached towards the top of the ceiling of the snow dome and in a sudden flash, their entire form including the dome imploded in a quick thunderous boom. Mal’Ek covered his face as a reflex and after lowing his hand, the grass patch was ashen, embers trailing off of their tips; the surrounding landscape of snow was but a barren world of smoke and dirt. Burnt trees were scattered around him, and a red sky hovered above his soul. He revolved around his center and all around him was what looked like a scorched world – the mountains’ snow tips were only blackened, and the large snow hill where he proceeded from was now a waterfall-like stream where dark water traveled towards the charred grass patch. From the top of the waterfall were dark, lost shadowy figures – wandering around the was-to-be canyon. Mal’Ek’s curiosity once again nudged him towards the figures, and he began to stride towards them.

“Hello!” He yelled towards them.

The shadowy figures continued to wander, none showing any signs of noticing his presence below them.

He proceeded to get closer, climbing up the dewy hill to feed his cravings of trying to understand the meaning behind the sudden existence of the oblivious figures until he pushed himself upwards to the very time.

He exclaimed towards the new landscape that replaced the canyon and exclaimed. A large, rustic castle rested nearly a mile from his person and surrounding it could have been thousands of the shadowy figures. He could hear whispers from the ones near him, but he couldn’t make out their words, and the closer he got to them, the more mortified he became. Each resembled humanlike facial features; a nose, eyes, and mouth. Although, what accompanied those features were disheartening – a stream of shadows looked like they were being pulled from their insides, and groans could be heard from them through the whispers. Their bodies were all very similar resembling specter and phantom-like forms. Some floated and others treaded across the lands, but as he peered towards the castle, he noticed that none would go near the castle. As he began to walk towards the castle, the shadowy specters would make space between him, almost afraid of being too close. Certain specters were standing in front of the castle entrance, longing to know what secrets it holds, but his presence caused them to scatter. He continued to show confusion as he eventually ended up in front of the maroon door-bridge that was already across the moat.

The specters rushed away from Mal’Ek, scurrying towards the waterfall rather than spend their time near the castle, but once again, Mal’Ek’s curiosity took hold of him, and he entered the castle’s dark hall past the bridge.

As he treaded through the silent corridors, the misty feeling seemed all too familiar. Each glance he took added to the full puzzle that he has been trying to solve since his sudden birth in the previous snow land. There were no separate passages, no hidden doors or walls, no decoration or tapestry to be seen in the low-lit malt-colored brick walls; only an end that he knew to walk towards. It felt all too natural – this place of wonder – that fear was absent. He stepped into the wide, empty room and in its center was a throne with no backside, almost like a tree stump, but even on all sides. Its stone-built form seemed uncomfortable at first glance, but as he initiated a slow and steady rest of his buttocks, its drooped as if wet clay. The moans of the outside specters were mute, and the only sound that existed in the castle was the faint sound of his breath. Without thinking, he instinctively gave himself to the throne as if it were alive, fondling its surfaces and rubbing its edges as it began to vibrate. The malleable throne began to shift, and its soft complexion hardened into a more weaponized form – the throne ejecting itself into the warm skin of Mal’Ek, each thrust of a different blade caused such euphoria into him as he began to remember, the blood dripping into the throne, gushing into itself as it began to gulp his essence. He felt pain, love, sadness, anger, betrayal, and the infinite void. He screamed as loudly as he could, even attempting to go past his limit as he laughed manically with his redstained teeth, his entire pale body was covered in a red velvet gloss.

His amber eyes began to glow into a blinding light, the once-dark corridors shining throughout the burnt landscape inhabited by the lost specters and a roaring cry was expunged from his breath. The specters let out a fearful moan as Mal’Ek’s lost power returned to him once again, a moan so tiring and worrisome that one observing such a spectacle would react in heartache; their innocence begotten of them in this event of omnipotence. Mal’Ek let out one final shout, and a yellow aura surrounded his heaving figure. Loud breaths were all he could let all, his beautiful smooth body pale once again, a red silk robe covering his form, and a chest propelling back and forth as he attempted to catch his heaves.

“Ahhh…” he exhaled loudly, in a more rough and deep voice, “my dear father, so much have I longed to return.”

He took one deep breath and pushed off one foot as time around him fast forwarded his entire person right outside the entrance of the castle. Again, as if the world itself experienced another metamorphosis, the landscape showed a different environment. The specters were cowering rather than lost, attempting to hide in an almost empty world, crow-like feathered fiends perched upon the towering malformed castle, singing an off-key tune that filled the once-somber world, and the white prince let out a worrying chuckle.

“My tired servants, why do you hide from your master? I gave you solitude from your treacherous world.”

He began to walk in the same linear route he once took from the scorched grass patch, arching his feet with each tread as if wearing tall heeled shoes on his already bare feet. The chalky dirt covered the soles of his feet, staining his white complexion with a clash of darkness.

“I finally return from my devoid life, and my welcome is met with fear?” His face showed discomfort after his question. He treaded towards a cowering specter, their shadowy body clearly shaking and their blurred face shivering from his cold aura.

While the gold-dripping locks that surrounded his body faded, the glow in his eyes continued to brighten as he gave a closer look to his cowering servant. He reached out towards it with both arms - the left showing no signs of its previous damage - and caressed the face of the specter.

“You see?” He stated, “I mean no harm. I am a changed master. I’ve learned from my mistakes and wish to learn from them. My previous selves may have fucked up too many times, but I believe I have the answer now to solve all our troubles.”

He leaned forward towards the specter as if to touch lips and dipped his chin to stare directly into the soul of the unfortunate specter. Its cowering form relaxed, and the blurred face was completely covered with shadows as Mal’Ek deeply inhaled through his nose, and an essence emitted from the faceless specter into his body. Fear filled the bodies of the unexperimented specters, and cries were heard throughout the crowds of cowering servants.

“To orchestrate such a symphony requires true talent, I must say.” He sat down and crossed his legs, the faceless servant shifting idly by him. “This one will surely please the Father.”

The echoes of the screaming horde filled the round canyon, its sounded echoing between the wall of its mountains, yet Mal’Ek seemed unbothered – their cries providing instead a comfort for him.

“Spirits.” He began, his eyes closed and hands resting on his knees, “Your tether to their world will now come to its final fruition. Fulfill the deed to your pretend goddess, and we will grant you safe passage to your home.”

His voice was an echo, although it was clear enough to hear through the now blurred cries around him, their somber yells and shrieks slowed down as the air around him thickened, becoming a wall that made the world difficult to understand outside.

“Failure to give what belongs to the Father, the true creator of our realms, and an infinite hell will consume you.” The final phrase was spoken as a whisper, a gentle voice that would normally comfort even the most innocent of infants.

As the world began to shift back to its normal aptitude, Mal’Ek glanced towards the faceless, robotic specter.

“Gather your sisters and brothers.” He commanded, “this rebellious, childish state of theirs will be an embarrassment towards my reign if the Father is to visit.”

The cries returned to their deafening roar, yet the faceless specter abided to his command, and began to gather all the shriekers in huddled groups in preparation for their new fates. Mal’Ek rose, the chalky dirt floating from his stained, translucent silk robe, his toned body flexed as his curled upwards from his position, and a smile formed against his rosy cheeks. His manhood soft, his arse perfectly curved as if molded from clay itself, and his entire posture was strong and confident.

He turned towards the large huddled crowd of specters; defeated by their faceless component who stood behind them, hunched over; a somber language, indeed. Mal’Ek raised his left arm, his long nails protruding towards the hundreds of specters, and it began to shrivel as if aged centuries, the pasty skin now charred, and his entire malformed arm began to shed as if ash from a burning log were present. Sweat covered his face, and a shiver could be heard from the weakened man. He dropped to his knees, landing on his cheek, his tired eyes sharing a drained expression. As he forced his head towards the group, the hundreds of huddled figures were in rows, their towering, faceless forms awaiting a command, and with the last of strength, he let out a chuckle before he entered a temporary sleep because of his previous action. As his buttocks protruded towards the sky, his pink hole spread apart, a quiet snore was heard from the vulnerable man. His shriveled, shedding arm showed a small white, pasty patch, and an almostsilent breeze filled the world of the specters and their master. They approached his weakened body and the coordinator of the specters picked him up gently, and the others watched as it entered the castle without haste. The specter placed Mal’Ek onto the newly formed throne, a jagged seat with a thorny backside, dark red symmetric lines staining both sides, and a footrest perfectly heightened for his Highness.

“Maakee…Haassste...” Hissed the commander, a whisper that rumbled through the halls and mimicked the sound of grinded metal, tongue that would naturally frighten the strongest of warriors, but was reacted with quick and undisputed action – the brigade of specters plunged their bodies into the ground, their forms being absorbed by their earth; some transforming their dripping black bodies into the same black crows that were observing the spectacle on the rooftop of the castle.

The commander exited the castle after the brigade of soldiers completely disappeared in either the world; patches of bleeding blackness emitting from the ground, and their crow comrades swooping in circles near the center of the linear path up above. The commander plunged his dagger-shaped hand into the ground as other others did, but the effect was different. The bleeding black grounds began to float upwards towards the reddened sky, curving into each other until making contact, the black crows growing erratic towards the event until the commander’s power was shown at once.

The commander expelled an earsplitting scream as glowing white vein-like patterns erupted from what could have been his eyes, traveling through his arms and then up towards each arm of the bleeding patches until it made contact towards the core of the five patches – forming a pentagram shape as seen from above. The sky crackled immensely, white lightning spewing from the bleeding core as the earth was whipping from the unnatural orb. The orb grew and with it the lightning shot upwards into the sunset sky, causing it to become a blinding white for nearly a minute until the orb itself let out a fierce boom and suddenly formed into a circular gate. The arms from the bleeding patches released their grip and returned to the ground, staining the earth with gooey puddles, and the erratic crows rose in unison and lunged towards the gate that rested in the sky. As they made contact, they disappeared without a trace through the gate, the nearly hundred of black crows in a scattered group showing excitement to this new path of theirs. As they all passed through and the only “living” thing left in the field was the commander, he released his connection from the earth and instead of the gate immediately disappearing, it just melted, dripping its shadows back into the earth until all that was left was ash, floating towards the red sky.

The commander peered past the grave of the gate, and the giantess from the snow land could be seen, their floating form and discomforting gaze staring into the “eyes” of the commander. A smirk could be seen, even being what must have been miles, from their beautiful face, and the commander only reacted in a huff, and turned his head towards the castle, returning to his master to tend to his wound. As the unusual spectacle came to a close, the giantess reached with their free hand towards the curve of the sky, and just gripped it, as if pulling a sheet off a bed, and covered themselves into its cloak. The sky bounced back to place and the giantess was nowhere to be seen. The crows on top of the castle cawed and croaked as if in pain, their black feathers becoming the bright white of the giantess. Their eyes - eyes that stared into a peerless void, a color of night and rotted blood, of decaying flesh and darker than obsidian – merely glued themselves shut, and all that was left was an imprint of where they were before. Only six were perched on the castle, an odd number of sorts. They cawed, crowed, and screamed into this mangled world that held such mysteries and questions. The white, blind crows began to peg at one another, the black tar that erupted from their gashes covered their talons, a never-ending pool of it dripping over the open pathway of the castle entrance until it completely covered its empty gate. As their debacle ended, one white crow leapt into the sky, flying with massive trouble from all its wounds, but treaded onwards towards the grave of the portal. It nipped at the remnant, until the white from the crow cloaked the small orb. The crow itself dropped, its lifeless body twitched as it hit the ground, the only other sound that was heard for a long while, and the entirety of its form shriveled, its talons facing the sky and the skin of its neck showing part of its insides. The white orb above completely disappeared, and the blackened landscape was all but alive.

Series

About the Creator

Coraline Karim

Hello! I am a transgender woman (MtF), and I write fantasy/fiction/poetry reflective of my past, present, and hopeful future. What I write is ultimately for me: it's therapeutic and self-assuring, though please do not let it hold your own.

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    Coraline KarimWritten by Coraline Karim

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