The Servant

Just past the horizon, on the other side of reality, stretches the Plane of Desolation, and at the heart of that blasted landscape sits the House, a twisted monstrosity of peeling paint and odd angels that exudes the very feeling of aloneness. Past the broken and empty windows, and rotting doors, lays a maze work of strangely shaped rooms filled with dust and darkness, which only added to the alieness of the House. And as mind bending as the rooms were the Hallway of Infinity was mind shattering. The Hallway disappeared into a tiny black dot in the distance and no matter how far one walked, or ran, they never reached the end. Lining the Hallway were countless doors of different shapes and sizes all framed by warped door frames and rotting wallpaper that had curled and blackened as if in a fire. As for the doors themselves they would open up onto rooms filled with bizarre furniture, or nightmare landscapes, or worlds so strange and beautiful that they seemed impossible. And then there were the doors, that when opened, showed the same scene over and over again until it made you want to scream. Behind a set of double doors, stained a rich dark brown, and carved with scenes of goddess worship, was a room made out of yellow sandstone. At the center of the large room was an alter stone that was nearly black with dried blood and in front of the alter burned a small green flame. On the other side stood a tall figure dressed in a heavy black cloak, its face hidden behind a silver mask with a single line of black onyx that ran the length of the mask over the right eye. A sigh echoed through the room and escaped under the door, taking eons to fade into nothing. “What’s wrong?” the figure asked in a soft feminen voice.

“We are bored,” the green flame said with a shiver.

“Then create something,” the figure replied. “Or destroy something. It makes no difference to me.”

The green flame shivered again as it laughed, filling the room with music. “We have done that so many times in the past Our most faithful of servants. It grows old.”

“Then do something else. Create a problem and then gather together a group to stop it,” the Servant said and waved a long elegant hand towards the double doors. She turned from the green flame and walked to the doors. As she pushed them open she looked back over her shoulder to where her master floated thoughtfully before the alter. She shook her head, a slight smile hidden by the mask, and stepped out into the Hallway of Infinity.

Time moved differently inside the House. In some rooms it raced forward so that centuries passed in a matter of minutes. In other rooms it flowed backwards so that worlds were resurrected , going from old to young and suffering their birthing pains once more before dissolving back into the Womb of the Universe. But in one room time stood still. It refused to move forward or backward, or in any direction what so ever. Maybe it was the absolute blackness that filled the room, swallowing any light that might dare to shine there. Or maybe it had to do with the green flame that appeared at the room’s center.

It floated in the middle of the blackness for several moments before it began to grow. The flame twisted in on itself and then expanded outwards until it vaguely resembled something human. Green fire crawled along its skin and then flowed into its mouth as it was opened wide; breathing in the fire until nothing of it remained, leaving the nameless god a delicate fleshy pink with overly large eyes that glowed with green fire. Its limbs change shape, going from short to long, fat to painfully thin and through it all something moved under the bright pink skin trying to find away out of the pore less, fleshy container. The god held out one long, thin arm, and slowly dragged a curved claw-like nail across the exposed wrist. Green fire dripped from the ragged cut and pooled in the palm of its other misshaped hand. As the god stared intently down at its cupped hands a rectangular patch of light appeared in the blackness.

“Amazing isn’t it?” the god asked, and then continued when the Servant gave no answer. “From Our blood We have created worlds and populated them with civilizations. We have even made you from this chaotic liquid. And with Our blood we can also destroy.” The fire that rested in the god’s hands began to grow until the green light faded and an egg, the size of a loaf of bread, was left in its hands. The god peered at the egg closely. “Flawless,” it breathed and then cracked the egg open.

A blackness deeper than what filled the room spilled from the egg and swirled around the god before flowing from the room. As it passed the Servant it reached out for her with several black tendrils and then recoiled violently as green fire surrounded the Servant. The darkness spilled out into the Hallway and then slipped under the door across from the Servant. “What have you done?” the Servant asked as she watched it disappear.

“It’s a Destroyer of Worlds. This will take three,” the god said as the egg shell dissolved back into the pink flesh. “Witch, warrior, and thief, to stop this thing that We have created. Find them Our most precious and bring them here to the House.”
Melkos was one of the best swordsmen in all of the Zarrithian empire, and was often sought out by the aristocracy, who hired him on as a bodyguard. But Melkos had a flaw, a compulsion that drove him to commit horrific acts against women. On the night when his life would change forever, Melkos stood just outside of a rowdy tavern watching as the people flowed past him heading for their homes, inns, or other taverns, when his eye was caught by a young woman with long red hair. He pushed himself off the wall that he had been leaning against and fell into step behind her.

He waited until she had turned down a quieter street before he made his move. Melkos picked up his pace and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her into a near by alley. She tried to scream through the hand that covered her mouth, and then tried not to gag as the strong sent of her assailant’s sweaty palm filled her nose and mouth. Fifteen minutes later Melkos walked out of the alley wiping his hands on a rag that he had found. He tossed the bloody piece of cloth to one side and rejoined the rest of the city’s population. In the alley, his victim, clothes torn, and throat cut, laid under a pile of garbage, waiting to be found by scavenging dogs.

Melkos was heading back to his current employer’s house when he decided to take a short cut by turning down the Avenue of the Gods. As he walked down the empty street he noticed a run down temple sitting between the bright white marble temple of the Sun God and the green and gold temple of a water god. Melkos pause in front of the temple and stared at it. The walls looked to be white at one time, but were now covered in moss, vines, and what looked to be ash, as if a fire had tried to burn the building to the ground. The stained glass windows, set up high in the face of the temple had been broken, and the single massive door stood at strange angle as if it had come off one of its hinges. He took several steps towards the broken steps and then stopped when the door swung open with a loud metallic screech.

A tall cloaked figure stepped out from the temple, its head bent low so that Melkos couldn’t see its face. He watched as it stepped to one side, allowing him to see into the temple. Absolute blackness was all that he could see beyond the door, but he had the feeling that the interior of the temple was much bigger than it appeared from the outside. Slowly the figure raised its head and moonlight glittered off of a silver mask with a single line of black that intersected the eye and ran the length of the mask. “Please,” and Melkos raised one eye brown at the woman’s soft voice. “Come in. My master has been waiting for you, and has a job offer for you.”

Melkos stood there for a moment staring at the woman. “I already have an employer,” he said and turned away.

“And does your current master now about the woman you have left in the alley earlier this night?” the woman asked her voice hardening slightly.

Melkos turned slowly back to the masked woman and regarded her with narrowed eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You must have me confused with someone else.”

“There is no confusing you Melkos,” the woman said her voice now dripping with venom. “Despite your obvious flaw my master has seen fit to hire you anyway. Step into to the House and prove that you can overcome your other half.”

“And if I don’t?” he asked as his hand slid over the hilt of his sword.

“One way or another you’ll die,” she answered. “It’s up to you if it’s tonight and on holy ground. But I will have your blood.”

‘Do stop your bickering Our precious,’ a voice said inside both their heads. ‘Come Melkos, time is short and even We don’t have forever to argue with you. Should you prove yourself worthy of Our task you will be greatly rewarded.’

“What kind of rewards?” Melkos asked.

‘With whatever your heart can imagine,’ the voice responded.

Melkos nodded slightly and walked up to the Servant. She motioned for him to step inside and said, “Follow me and stay to the path that I take. I cannot and will not guarantee your safety within the Hallway of Infinity.” She stepped into the temple, followed closely by Melkos, and the door closed softly behind them.

Alissa was stuck in traffic, moving at a pace slower than a snail’s. As she inched along in her 2001 Ford Focus, she sighed in frustration and hit the steering wheel with the flat of her hand. She reached over and unhooked her cell phone from its dashboard mount and flipped it open. “Work,” she spat into the phone and was serenaded by the electronic beeps and boops as the phone dialed.

“Mr. MicCormick’s office,” a woman answered after three rings.

“Marcy it’s Alissa. Can you tell the boss that I’m stuck in traffic and going no where fast.”

“Construction?” Marcy asked.

“No,” Alissa replied as she craned her neck to get a better view of…..nothing. “I think an accident since I didn’t see any construction signs. I’ll call again in thirty minuets if I’m not out of this mess by them.”

“Ok,” Marcy said. “Don’t rush; we wouldn’t want you to become part of that accident as well.”

Alissa snorted into the phone and said, “Right. Talk to you later.” She closed the phone, ending the call, and tossed it into the cup holder. .

Fifteen minuets and a half mile later, Alissa was ready to scream when she realized that the traffic had stopped completely. She watched as people climbed from their cars and pointed at something down the freeway. She shook her head in annoyance and then five minutes later, her curiosity winning out, she also climbed from her car to see what was going on. About another quarter mile up the road, blocking a good deal of the freeway was, of all things, a house. Alissa’s mouth fell open at the impossibility of it, as she stared at the hulking mass. A quiet unease settled down over her and as she looked at the house she thought that there was something wrong with it. The place reminded her of the house from ‘The Chainsaw Massacre’ as well as the Bates Motel, and a dozen other haunted houses all rolled into one. She stood, staring at the house, when she heard her name being called. She looked around, but recognized no one, and she knew that it wasn’t the phone.

“My imagination,” she muttered to herself and closed her eyes.
‘Alissa,’ the voice whispered softly. ‘Come.’

Alissa’s eyes snapped open and locked on the House up ahead. She knew, without understanding why or how, that it was that odd House up ahead that was calling to her. As she watched it she felt disorientated and dizzy. She stumbled away from her car and with jerky movements walked towards the House. As she came closer to the House a since of wrongness came over her. Her blue eyes widened in horror as she stood before the House. ‘This is wrong,’ she thought, and then: ‘It’s watching me. Oh my god…it’s WATCHING me.!’

She flinched as something moved in one of the broken windows; her numb mind recognized it as a slightly human shaped shadow. Her eyes flicked back to the front door that was cradled by a badly warped frame. Alissa watched as the paint (what little was left) curled away from the rotting wood, and dropped down onto the sagging porch. Panic flooded through her as the tarnished door knob began to turn slowly. She wanted to run but found that she was rooted into place. Alissa’s heartbeat pounded loudly in her ears as the front door opened. On the other side, holding the door wide was a tall figure dressed in a heavy black cloak, the hood had been pulled up to hide the color and length of its hair, and a silver mask, a thin line of black ran the length of the mask over the right eye, hid the face. Beyond the cloaked doorman, Alissa could see only blackness.

‘Alissa,’ the voice whispered again ‘Come.’

Her body jerked forward against her will, and as she stepped up onto the steps, the decayed wood cracked dangerously under her. With halting steeps she moved closer to the gapping blackness beyond the door. She knew without a doubt that should she go into the House she would be swallowed whole and disappear forever. As she stepped up to the door, her eyes locked onto the masked figure. “Please,” she said (and Alissa was sure that it was a woman from the feminine sounding voice) said softly, “come in.”

Alissa hesitated a second before stepping over the threshold and into the House, thinking that once she was inside she would never be free from its influences. Her body jerked forward once more and as she stepped in an intense feeling rushed over her like a wave. ‘This feels right,’ she thought and the door closed behind her.

The doorman stepped in front of her and said, “Follow me and stay to the path that I take. I can not and will not guarantee your safety in the Hallway of Infinity.”

Alissa followed the cloaked woman down an impossibly long corridor that was lined with misshaped doors. Her guide stopped before a door made up of rotting wood. She took a hold of the door knob and said, “No harm will come to you while you stay in this room. Should you step past the door and out into the Hallway I can not and will not guarantee you safety in the House.” The masked woman turned the knob and pushed the door open to reveal a dimly lit sitting room filled with shabby furniture from the sixties and covered in a thick layer of dust.

Alissa stepped into the room and turned in a slow circle, taking in the whole room. As she turned back to the door, the masked woman inclined her head slightly to Alissa and closed the door. As Alissa stood there staring at the door she realized that she wasn’t alone.

She turned her back to the door and looked into the shabby sitting room with its mismatched furniture. Sitting in an overstuffed chair upholstered in a sickly pea green paisley print was a thin man dressed in black. His face was narrow, bone white, and covered with a fine sheen of sweat. His hair hung to his shoulders like a handful of limp noodles and his glistening, liquid black eyes took in Alissa’s slim frame in its pale blue summer dress. The look made her feel dirty and ashamed. He smiled at her, his razor thin lips curving up slowly under his hawkish nose.

“What have we got here?” the man rasped as he raked his eyes over Alissa’s body a second time. “Something to play with perhaps?”