Thursday, January 1, 2009


by Jomo Farrier

A crimson pool of life. The first thing that comes to mind from the moment I wake, to the second I rest. It even haunts my dreams, turning them into nightmares that tease me with my desires and reward me with sorrow. I loved her, ya know. And now, anytime I think of her, those peaceful thoughts are tainted. Corrupted by that crimson pool of life, slowly leaking out of her chest.

We're supposed to be immortal. But if we really were, how did I watch the love of my life die?

All I could do was watch. Sacred chains restricted me to the body I possessed. And the mythical blade... the one that wasn't even supposed to exist... it proved it existed, and then some.

I knew three things:
  1. The blade's name was Ultimus. The knight in shining armor yelled it as he impaled the one who I was destined to be with.
  2. The hero's name? Pride. He shouted that too. Announced his arrival, as if he was important to anyone but himself.
  3. I wanted revenge. And no force in heaven or hell could stop me.


I never liked heroes. I mean, neutral characters are ok. Indecisive, but ok. Heroes, though? The scum of the earth. They aren't comfrotable with living their own lives and dealing with their own problems. They always need more; they want to solve everyone else's problems. But how can people learn from the mistakes they make if another person fixes it?

Exactly. They don't.


Pride killed Destiny. He restrained me first, with those enchanted chains that made my body useless, and then he delivered one swift stab to the heart. But you see... Destiny had my heart. And when Pride stabbed hers, he killed all of my remorse.

All sympathy, all chance of forgiveness.

For I am Consequence. You can hold off Consequence, but you will never be able to stop it. Me.

Man, thinking like Pride has me speaking in 3rd person. Ugh. You have to think like your enemy to know his weaknesses, though. And so it begins.


John Taylor. The name of the man I possessed. A fair-skinned male, light blue eyes. Muscular. The rest is unimportant. Because he's dead now.

I stared in the mirror for hours after Destiny died, locked in the chains. I realize that I didn't describe these chains before. They aren't your normal linked pieces of scrap metal. They are more like bracelets, beguiling to the eyes. Covered with cryptic symbols. It's impossible to describe their feel, though. Because every time I touched the chains, I felt empty, alone. Those human emotions that don't usually cut as deep. Maybe the loss of Destiny made that happen. But...

Every time I tried to break out of John Taylor's body, the chains glowed crimson and made me stay. So, since the bracelets wouldn't come off, I had to take a leap of faith, from the 20th floor of my hotel room, and get out of the body permanently.


The one mistake that heroes always make is to not get both sides of the story.

They think everything is black and white. A damsel in distress--and a villain. A village of civilians--and a monster. What they fail to realize is that everyone makes decisions that put them in the predicaments they need to be saved from.

That damsel in distress probably did something to piss the villain off. That monster? Probably lived where those civilians built that village. If someone kicked you our of your home, wouldn't you be pissed?


Now I was free, drifting for a purpose. A body to possess, to reach Pride. But as I drifted, something stopped me. Another spirit. Her name was Knowledge.

So of course, she knew everything. She looked into my blank eyes and told me the rest of the story.

Love was Pride's wife. She died. Why? Because Destiny killed her. Love was the foolish little sister of Knowledge. So of course, she knew nothing. But anyway.

Love and Destiny, the two women, had come up with a plan. A test for Pride. First, Destiny killed Love with the blade: Ultimus. Pride walked in and Destiny fled, leaving the weapon in Love's chest. I wish Pride had made that mistake with me. But anyway. Pride took the blade, chased after Destiny, and caught and killed her in front of me.

And then Knowledge gave me the most crucial piece of knowledge: where Pride was. He was now possessing the President of the United States of America.


That coward! I knew what I had to do. I flew to the White House entrance and possessed one of the agents of the Secret Service: Nathan Whitaker. I went on break and walked into the Oval Office. There was the President, staring as if he was waiting for me.

He thrust his hands forward and force erupted out of his palms, attempting to lock me within that body. I was smart, though. I left the body at once. The force threw Nathan into a wall, cracking his neck with great momentum. That must've hurt. I dove for Pride as he got out of his chair, running. I reached him and breached his mind.

There I stood, in this white, blank room. Pride held Ultimus in his hands.

"Are you stupid?" he asked. "This blade is unstoppable."

"Don't you understand?" I asked. "They tricked us both. Your wife and Destiny just used you, to see if you would crack. And you did. Pride had to be a hero and kill Destiny. And now you're left with me: Consequence."

"Then I'll kill you."

"You can't," I said. "Pride only has the power to kill its own destiny. It doesn't have the power to do anything else."

I walked up to him and grabbed the blade of Ultimus. It melted in my hands as he watched in horror. The big bad wolf lost his balls.