Writer's Helper

"Many hands make light work." - traditional proverb

---

In spite of his rapid rise to power, the adolescent boy was miserable. He slumped on his desk, dispirited; behind him, a nameless being floated, chomping blithely on an apple. The floating entity was eating an apple because he liked their crispy, vital taste, and he was nameless because these contests allow only original work, but a blatantly derivative work with the names removed might also fit the bill.

The being chuckled. "You look angry. What's wrong?"

Flapping his arm like a limp noodle, the boy replied, "What do you think is wrong, you stupid glam vulture? I'm a God! With this notebook, I could destroy the wicked in just a few days... if it weren't for this pointless writer's cramp! Argh, my biceps!"

"Maybe you should eat more fruit," said the floaty being. "The potassium might be good for your muscles."

"Did you read that in my sister's health mags? Stay out of her stuff!"

At that very moment, the person whom he regarded as his cootie-filled girl sidekick-slash-slave bounded into the room, disregarding the "knock first" policy the boy had instituted to shield his Divine Work and detective porn from observation. "LOOK WHAT I MADE FOR YOU!" she cried.

It was a set of... arms? Arms on a harness? Some kind of octopus suit?

"What is this."

"It's a neuroprosthetic writing suit!" said the girl. "I reverse-engineered it from a prototype at To-oh University! Getting the spinal interface to synapse properly was a real trick, but if you put in a collagenized support matrix for glial -"

"Shut up. This is gonna help me write?"

"Uh-huh! Tee-hee!"

The boy waved her away, privately wondering how he was ever going to train that little idiot to knock first. Was she some kind of idiot? Then he donned the suit without hesitation, wincing as it precisely jabbed the electrodes into his spine. Once he'd recovered from the shock, he carefully placed a pen in the fingers of one arm, then another, then another. Yes. YES. YES!

THIS was what he needed! This was what the world needed!

--

"Wow," said the floaty being. "Looks like he's setting a new record."

Indeed, the boy had killed more people in the last hour than he'd managed in entire days. The prosthesis was a godsend. He would someday consider it his finest idea.

"Y'know," whispered the girl, "this reminds me of a proverb..."

White Night

"Daddy?"
"What is it, honey?"
"Do you have a second?"

The father nodded and pat his hand on the empty spot next to him on the sofa. The little girl slowly took her designated seat and held the blanket to her tiny body. Even under the covers she was shivering; the snowfall outside was definitely the culprit.

"What's the matter dear, are you cold?"
"Just my hands!" she said while rubbing them vigorously together for warmth. Almost immediately, the father grasped one of her thin wrists in his hand and she looked up in surprise.

"Honey, have you ever heard of the proverb "cold hands, warm heart"?
"Prah...berb?" she questioned, looking as cute as a 6 year old could. Laughing off his temporary blunder, the father turned his attention to his original intention.

"Don't worry about that word for now dear. Have you ever heard someone say "cold hands, warm heart" to you before?"
"No daddy, I haven't!"

Of course she hadn't; he'd have to question what they were teaching in school nowadays if she did.

"Many people think that having cold hands means you are a kind person on the inside."
Getting up, the little girl ran over to the frozen window and stuck her hands against it.
"There, now I'll be nice all the time!"

The father couldn't help but find his daughter's purity adorable. "Honey, you'll learn someday that not everything people say is true." Smiling at the sight, he continued. "Still...it's best you grow up and learn what is right for yourself."

He quickly sprung up from his seat. "C'mon kiddo, let's make some hot chocolate, hmm?"
"But daddy, my hands will get warm!" she snapped. The two stood silently for a moment and stared at each other, when the little girl suddenly began to laugh.

"Daddy! You can't believe everything I say, right?"
He slid the hot drink across the counter and chuckled. "That's right, honey." She was already learning so much.

What the Dark Brought

"The darkest hour is always right before the dawn." - Proverb

---

The floor moaned and screeched in sluggish agony with the weight of the enigma who approached from the dark. My body stiffened and my heart felt heavy.

I prayed that the darkness would take him back -- take him and keep him.

Around the corner at the end of that demonic hallway I sat, back glued to the wall. I kept my head turned opposite from the direction of those menacingly creaking floorboards so that the steam released from my breath could not be seen. I tried to keep my exhales steady and quiet so I would not be heard. In front of me was a rusty, broken window which was sucking in sharp, cold air from the outside. Strong winds were pulling the snow down like a vacuum. The blizzard had intensified.

The material of my coat above my chest tightened suddenly. Looking down, a pair of shaking hands covered with black gloves were clutching the pink wool. Between them rested a face I knew all too well, bearing pale porcelain skin and perfectly rosy red cheeks that were often a source of envy. Hair of a light brown just like my own, but cut much shorter for ease of manageability. Shining aquamarine eyes full of fear, blood running down her forehead and trailing off her cheek. I was not used to using Abigale like this. Despite my being the older sister, she was often the braver one.

I was at a loss of what to do, so I smiled. It was weak, it was fake, and it made me feel pathetic. But Abigale's grip loosened up, and I instantly knew that it was a good choice. I placed my hand on her head, petting her lovingly.

"Hey... You remember that one time you found those lizards in the woods and we let them loose in Mr. Nolan's grocery store?" I asked quietly.

"Yeah... I remember..." whispered Abigale, her eyes brightening a little. "He went ballistic. The customers went crazy and bunch of display shelves got knocked down. Oh, and Ryan fell face first into that chocolate cake that Mrs. Nolan dropped."

We both started giggling softly. I hugged Abigale tight, trying my best to hide my fright of the situation. I just wanted to distract her for a little bit. This was probably taking a huge toll on her psyche... I needed to look tough and provide a good example.

I sighed deeply. "We'll get out of here, hun. I promise..."

Those hopes sunk as wandering steps of curiosity suddenly gained direction and purpose. From the sound of the faint echoes, he had stopped exploring the various rooms and decided to come to end of the hallway. Tears gathered in my eyes. I looked to Abigale, paralyzed by my fear. Her cheeks were already wet. I began searching the area frantically and picking my brain for options. Would we be quick enough if we just ran past him? Were we strong enough to push him to the ground and run for it? Perhaps I could throw something at him?

And closer he came, still. A few more steps and he would turn around that corner...

"Abigale," I said, in the tiniest voice I could muster. "I want you to jump out of that window when I tell you to. When you're outside, run away. Don't wait for me. Understand?"

Closer...

"B-But... Chelsea..."

"Please, Abby. Please..."

All of the broken window shutters suddenly began slamming repeatedly against the old, abandoned house. Abigale flinched. The winds had picked up tremendously.

"I won't leave without you. You can't make me..."

"Abigale, don't make this difficult. Just do as I say."

"I don't wanna..."

Closer...

"Damn it, Abigale... Stop being a baby. You are going out that window."

"I'm scared, Chelz. I love you. Don't leave me..." Abigale blubbered, her tears pouring down.

Closer...

"I love you, too. I'll be just fine, Abby. I'll be alright..." I breathed, unfaithfully so.

There was only silence then.

The shutters stopped making noise. The wind was nonexistent. Snow fell at a snail's pace. Abigale nor I even dared to breathe. The entire universe just fell utterly and absolutely quiet.

And then, a rush of black that groaned in a deep voice.

Her scream, my shout.

Her warmth escapes my breast. Glass breaks. Shoving my weight into his chest. A thud.

I take off flying. Towards the light. I was free. I sought to catch up to Abigale, whose red coat I could see fluttering down the street, a stark contrast with the surrounding white scenery.

I don't look back. Back to that darkness.

God... I don't look back.

The Confrontation

"Do not seek death, Death will find you. But seek the road which makes death a fulfillment. " - Dag Hammarskjöld

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I looked into the night sky

And saw Mars in all his anger.

He came down before me

And bade me forth to war

And I spoke unto him "Loth am I to leave this Earth,

But there is no joy in my young, lonely life."

So I followed him into the stars

And fought a terrible war on his behalf,

For I welcomed death with open arms

In time, and after uncounted victories,

I stood before the gates of Hades

And called out the Lord of the Dead.

He said unto me "Why do you demand entrance to my kingdom

When you already reside here?"