Thus, crappy daily short stories will now probably become the norm.
To kick us off, here's a snippet from what would be the third installment of Kano's Tale, after he'd been captured by the Order, an infamous group of Earth humans trying to take over and eliminate the magical parallel world of Genesi, from which Kano comes.
Edit: As requested, here is a of me reading this aloud, with some mistakes and microphone bumps and my watch going off with its beeping.
Edit Edit: Giving me hell tonight, I'll try it again tommorow.
Edit Edit Edit: I give up. I'm just linking you to this site, and if anybody knows how to put a little tiny mp3 player into a webpage like this, please let me know. I've tried like 8 and I can't get any of them working.
- - -
“Do you have a last name, sir?”
I answer with a head shake. The handcuffs are cutting into my wrists. The little green light on them is getting very annoying.
“Right. Just Kano, then?”
Why bother with a verbal response? I’m past being a gentlemen. I haven’t been allowed to sit or sleep for what feels like days. The little water I’ve had has been through a straw. No food, either.
They intend to starve me out. Trick’s on them, it won’t work.
“Alright Mister Kano, would you mind answering a few simple questions for me?”
Too tired to respond, even to look up. My neck’s chaffed from the metal collar clamped around it, chained medieval style to the wall. Ankles are chained together, too. Completely naked, but really, when you’re starving to death slowly, you don’t give too much of a shit who sees what parts of you. Apparently it’s psychological torture, being stripped naked, but obviously humans from this world have never been to Gra’tya; clothes are like a sin there. Funny, that I can think about a place as warm, sunny, and friendly as that in this damp shithole I’m strung up in.
“Right. So you are a citizen of Genesi?”
It’s a struggle to make eye contact. It’s a man, that I already knew from the voice. Stands about six foot from what I can tell, the average of the Earthians nowadays. Looks like he’s from the Orient, small black eyes, black hair…but that tall? Unusual. Must be half something else. Too dark to tell in this light. Too tired, too.
“Mister Kano? Are you having difficulty speaking?”
I stare at him. Some part of my mind tells me that if I cooperate my suffering will end, but the military trained part of me, and the part of me that hates this man for what he is without even knowing his name or being able to see him properly, would never let me give in to such a weakness.
He steps closer, tilts my chin roughly from side to side, and gives me a good slap. My head swivels easily, the sting in my cheek a welcome distraction from my aching stomach.
“Mister Kano, I recommend you start cooperating, since I have special leave to break from protocol. You are a most…special case,” he says, pausing, turning my head to face his. He’s greasy, I can see now, oily skin, deep, black, slanted eyes, hair that looks and smells like it hasn’t been washed in a week, thin, glistening lips that curl into a sadistic smile at the prospect of causing his captive pain.
“Master always said I was special,” I say. I meant to sound sarcastic, confident, but to my dismay my voice trails barely past a whisper. My throat is dry; it hurts to make any noise. The creep in front of me just grins more, showing yellow, spotted teeth. He breaths on me, and I think I’d rather face a swamp drake with rotting flesh between its mandibles.
“Until we killed her, that is,” he says, eyes watching closely to see my reaction. I’m satisfied to see him frown. I’m not giving him anything.
“Fine. Since verbal abuse and nonphysical humiliation tactics are proving futile on you, we’ll move to other extremes,” he says, walking around to the other side of the room. He picks up a whip, and I use the little energy I have to roll my eyes at him.
“Really?” I say, a little stronger, and try to bark a laugh. I manage a weak chuckle. “You think after being a Nyataran War captive that a whip’s going to do anything?”
He falters, looks at his whip, then cracks it. It bursts into blue flame.
“Their whips turned white. Is blue the best you can do?” I goad. He seethes and cracks it again, the flames turning a cooler red instead of hotter white. He whips it again, making a strange feral cry in the back of his throat in frustration.
Really, if half baked, hygienically challenged elemental rejects like this guy are the best the Order can throw at me…I’ll be out in a day or two. Tops.
Shit, that whip really does hurt, though, no way around that…
