Things to Run Away From Really Fast

07/17/10



The castle is light grey stone, bleached white in the moonlight. Spires reach to the stars. Atop the tallest tower, Debra Morgan stands looking out over endless mountain forests.

This is fucking ridiculous, she thinks. Of all the people to be kidnapped by a mythological creature, she should not be playing the damsel in distress. She's a cop, for Christ's sake.

She takes a breath, straightens her long, flowing (fucking impractical, is what it is) dress. It's silk, flowing patterns of blue and purple, glowing in the moonlight. The harsh notes of an organ drift across the courtyard from another tower. She frowns, humming along with the melody.

She hears her voice being played back to her, a recofded message. She stops humming, startled, and the voice stops. A slow smile forms on her face, and she starts humming the tune that the Beast is playing on his organ. She hums and listens carefully to the instructions her future self is giving her, letting a grin form. This plan just might work.



I'm a reaper, recently deceased. I've always wanted to leave Ixburg, and I was just shy of graduating high school. Now that I'm dead, I basically have sole dominion over the entire area's dead and dying.

My family moved out of our apartment block soon after my death. I get the place for a discount. Nobody wants to live in that particular suite anymore. I'm running the place for the new owners, a profession that gives me the flexibility to gather the few souls that suffer freak accidents occasionally.

For a retirement town, there's not a whole lot of death here.

Rube shows up around the corner of the shop in the back. He asks how I'm doing. I say that all I want is to get the hell out of here.

I'm jumping on fenceposts where the shop should be. I see a ten foot post and I jump up from the ground. I'm suspended in the air for a moment, and I force the dream to let me land on the four-inch circle.



I find myself in the middle of downtown Halifax. Barrington is a pedestrian only street. I feel ridiculously ashamed of my bare feet for some reason.

I take off to the south end at a sprint, enjoying the feel of running barefoot. I take the boardwalk, heading for my apartment.



I'm working at a table at some kind of convention, minding my own business, when a girl suddenly attacks me with a sword. I take a glancing blow to the neck, fall with it to avoid more damage. I pick up the short sword that was sitting beside me on the table as I dive for cover. I bring the sword up over my head as the girl strikes again. We fight.

This is a game. Damage is taken, and I slice open the girl's scalp. She hardly notices. No one loses until they surrender. I switch my sword for an axe on the table. I preferred the sword, so I switched back. The sword is knocked out of my hand and I rush the girl, tackling her and pinning her to the ground. She gets her hands out somehow and tries to struggle away, but another quick move has her immobile.

I fumble for my sword. I hold the blade to her throat, and rasp, "Do you yield?" She grins and concedes victory to me.

I'm outside, by the Halifax clocktower. The grass is green, and I look over the Vancouver harbour.

An orchestra is playing outdoors, under the blue sky. I take a breath, and allow the music to wash over me.

Now, what was I supposed to be doing?



A group of people are camping near a lake. Getting out of a car, they bicker with each other. Ron, Hermione, and Draco Malfoy are all members of the group.

Malfoy is concerned about his haircut (blond and spiky). He thinks it's just great the way it is, but they've been camping for so long that he's starting to need another haircut.

Ron can cut hair, but Malfoy doesn't trust him not to mess it up on purpose.

The Beast. Scare Factor: 4.