A trip

It seems no matter the connections weak or strong. If it was a literal link or a vague slight of the worlds. Souls that created these gates to other worlds still have something binding to make such context. Due to my past homelessness, I am very used to finding these things. After long lengths of time of being caught between foster family dramas, I have for sure well experienced exploring great beyond through gates. Spending that time in other worlds is not health and its often better to not part take at all.

Yet thanks to my choose to ignore the things that walk among us from these doors, my arrogance (or desperation for basic needs) lead to crossing into many places I shouldn't have. I have grown to have favourite sneak away places. I am a little well knowledge of world crossing to avoid walking into what has to be gates to hell.

By no means that is it ever wise to be walking around places in myth and legend, looting the place like some video game character with kleptomaniac problems; was ever wise at all. Some places were soul purposed created for such actions and had nothing worthy to steal from.

Any video game areas from kingdom hearts to Zelda to dark souls series; their items are useless outside of thier worlds. Not even the metal from there would be converted directly to a real world material to sold for cash. Its of no benefit to my survival. Although crashing those game worlds is a little to funny sometimes, since I can still do impossible player actions in those worlds and enter buildings not accessible for gamers.

No, real worth converted items came from stealing items from worlds created by creations. Say for example that you video game character had a god of thier own. That god has a domain, and the items of that domain are in that holy enough teir to exist as a real plain unfashionable scrap metal. That's actually where real worth is stolen and pawn off. I haven't been caught yet but I am sure this has consequences. These consequences just haven't manifest into any reach to myself yet.

So when I told the werido whom shares my soul I was going to church. I had meant busting into the old place a few town's over. It located in farm fields. The land is in owner dispute with the Christian group and the family farm around it. A lot of money has been poured by the family to remove the graveyard around here. It still has some church use left, it just lacks the one centuries of corpses. Well, most of them. There spirits around here aren't human made, for sure. I would go out on a limb in saying they are from English folk tales about fey, cryptic souls and church grim.

The old woman whom walks past the road is not what she seems. She's not mentioned by normal living folks but in drunken stories overheard by pubs. She is famed as some witch whom stole children. Ragged clothing that would belong to a peasant from times past. A stripped branch as her walking cane, stained dark sections are dented. Those areas of the twisted dying branch. Muddy and always shuffling slowly. She would be that slow with the second a car drives by. She does this inhuman enough move to jump over stone farm divisions.

The bust church has broken shatter panels of once magnificent stained glass medieval hand work. Wood rotten ceiling caved in, painted walls worn and fading. No loot left here, all the lead and metal handles gone. This place was wealthy and beautiful. It could have been part of some old monastery if the king of England didn't demand it all to be ruins. Thanks Henry.

What I came here for is that the priest hiding hole. This hidden door is in a room for hanging service rob. A little of clever work of monks continuing their religious practices without the king and crown nosing around executing them.

It be a matter of time when the historical society overwrites the land dispute to put everything last bit of this place to restoration. So now is a good time to make use of the door way to another land. Loot the world and leave without much trace.

"I will not be slayed by your foul mouth for such discrimination!" I maybe should have left this second from hearing such nonsense too.

The priest hide hole was was more a small corridor of graffiti from centuries past. Witch marks to somethings I have seen in cave art. Roman Latin carving on top of deer hunting scene. The voices came from these walls... as the world bends from such drawing in carving coming to life. This area is sort of a corridor of time. Touching or reaching into a sketch meant pulling myself into the time it was done. I dived right on the floor as a hand waves from another drawing.

"This my dear follower is a gateway. Clearly due to my influence of being here. Has caused my blessings to tap into the memories of the very stone the carving is sketched from." I lay with waiting for whomever this is to make up there mind, "You shouldn't go in. As you know from my teachings. My influence can cause consequences beyond myself, you can become lost in space there."

"Nonsense still. It's just a corridor of more sketches." The spirited young man jumps through and puts his hands to his waist proud of his lack of death or dying.

The ghost of time himself, pulls through too looking up the corridor and down the other end. He blinks confused. Time starts and ends. It should just stop at a point a to be. Well. Yes.

It was twisted and continue. Both continue to ignore the floor, as I watch them look around very intent on very different things. Random modern names and dates carved underneath deer and sabertooth tiger hunting scene. Carvings of symbols without context that clearly had some disagreeable actions with another symbol. A string of number rings around one part too. A sort of archway.

"What now, my lord?" both jumped as my phone rings. I lay just waiting for the call to stop and sigh at aggravation that it was going to be a caller whom doesn't know not to stop. The blade from the follower of Time is unscaved and pointed at me. I huffed in standing up and surrender, "You funny lad have strange clothing and devils singing."

"Not that you understand, mister tudor rose but I would like to answer the devil box." The follower glares at me and give a nod. I give a look to the god, "In honesty, a phone should not be working in a time flex corridor unless..."

"The corridor was designed for that purpose." I poke the screen of the phone and put it to speaker when answering. The god of Time soon finished what I said.

"Hello stranger, your calling at a very strange moment." I spoke first and the listener gives a long pause before speaking, "Currently on the other end of this line, maybe. Is the god of time, his tudor rose follower and myself. I don't know what your expecting to answer."

"You would happen to be the host of ender?" The voice asked... static and the accent was heavy.

"Its never a wise thing to go asking for the being whom ends all of time for help." the god notes.

"Not wrong there..." They muttered, "I am looking for the ender of this timeline to help with a complications."

"It explains a lot of why this tjme corridor is werid. You would happen to have any of my soul fragments?" my mask creeper of darkness there to steal away my chooses and pull my conscience away from what happens next.

Waking up in a bus shelter isn't the weirdest of places my more dark evil half has done. I have new cuts across my chest, back, and arms. The sense of hold a ton more memories of whom I was and the indefinite confidence of breaking laws of elements. Like making ice fire... yes it doesn't make sense. I am quite past the point of not caring about it making sense of any sort of teachings or learned methods.

So... what I last concisely recall was that church and its preist hole. This bus stop is so happens to be right here a lane down from the church. As always, when I have poked around in things I shouldn't have. The men of mage and wizardry is here to dampen that.

"Leave them to aimlessly wonder around the frozen church grounds and pick up the frozen corpse off the walls." The other me was now my younger self, his clothing was just as fashionable as the time

follower. Very... historical. Hand woven cloth, dyed in plant juice and smells like sheep oil. I am not going to wonder why he has a smell. Its more that inspite of being younger me, I would question his voice husky and mask face of someone that looks like my father with my mothers eyes, "I am you. Stop getting side tracked." He peers down that way and watched the old lady turn into a wolf and start dragging a mage off into the woodland edge, "Maybe I should thank myself for never daring to face the crazy woman." The bus pulls up stopping and opens its door. The driver pale and lifeless, "Death, my friend." My younger self jumps right on and grapples me through to with clouded vapes of darkness attaching us, "My friend. My buddy. Old pal." puts coins down to the dish, "Still scaring the ever daylights to mortal men by being fates dirty hand work. How very..." There a long stop of him glaring. I am tucked to the seat behind the driver.

"So you see that I am not your death."

This version of death reverses the bus backwards and once more I am sleeping dreamless. I blankly stood in place for a long time... realizing I am blindfolded and not sleeping. Not hearing with the ear plugs... The darkness is gentle in having me guided around, it makes sure I avoided things.

"I feel like I should be saying something..." I spoke with keeping myself sane with loosing track of everything so far. Maybe I was knocked out when step on the bus and now this me... no. This isn't being kidnapped. If I was kidnapped, I would not be so straight forwards in letting my dream darkness loosely be flung around. I have been hiding my own powers of magic and morphic darkness for this long.

"This is my deal, host. I need your objective thought about a issue. You must not take what you see and what you assume to heart." With how my darkness flexed a mask on my face would mean it was protecting my identity from someone normally magic sighted or god faithed.

I give my sighed promise as it gives back sight. The fram lands around is littered in dead scarficed Sheep. A whole head have mounted heads lining stone farmer boundary. It was what I noticed at first with having to get over it quickly. It would then be a tall bones inky rave of goop stood towered over myself and the god of death of this world. That death is torn off the disguise of the bus driver.

"You whom called about a complication." I noted with some unreal willpower to not pull any unnecessary body reaction. The smell of weeks decay, the rotten pools of blood and the melting flesh dripping down the stone walls. The inky mass was actually must more pleasant to look to.

"You have amazing recall." the mass jolt bones about and passes a few pictures over. A sort of album of insanity note taking about what a english country side should be. Extensive names of generations of farmers. Almost a catalogue of spirits, wildlife and world crossing, "What you see around is a tear of reality broken... I have just about found nothing missing. But without all my soul pieces here. It will not reverse to how is should be."

"Maybe because you missing a crazy woman that is a wolf in disguise." I suggested, "Currently eating someone's arm in my side of time."

"The Black Witch... She's a folk tale." that inky mess breaks into thousands of voices and cringed both myself and death.

"I am starting to believe that mythical folk tale have to coexist between layers of reality to prevent normal people doing stupid things." My words made it stop and it takes out a worn torn sherd of pages, flicks through them. It would put it claws through it to reach like it was a bag. The hissing sound of a inhuman screaming distortedly. The ink throws it somewhere nearby here.

Pulled backwards knocked head first into the bus shelter. I have a nauseous moment, dazed like drunken steps over to a edge and letting loose of my stomach control. I was here... being a public nuisance as my outfit suggested. A empty beer bottle at hand and a new set of two rings on my fingers.

" Excuse..." the mage in business fancy suit steps backwards at I miss their shoes. They have a handkerchief pressed to their face soon and try to speak to me. I about have some control back and slam the bottle to be shattered in my vomit. The neck pointed their way and a wavered stance if looking for a fight, "Look kid, I just want to ask about any local bears or wolves." I lower with snickering. It was some great joke this foreigner assumed.

"Dude... if that were true. You better call the zoo to fetch them." the bottom neck also shatter between us, "The worst thing here would be a fox eating your chicken coop." A new drink disguised as beer was more a root beer soda, "You foreigner." knock it back a bit and step hazardly away, "Get you eyes checked foreigner."

As you may guess, acting has become a strong way to fool the mages. They never interfered much with the rest of the world that they aren't following social norms and taking part in pop culture trends.

This will not have worked with a cop. A cop has years of experience to know I wasn't actually drunk and if I did. I would be underage. I would been asked where my family. No question to hand cuffs on since I cause antisocial behaviour such as smashing glass and vomiting on the pavement by a bus stop. Totally would have checked me into a hospital for being this ill without any sort of drugs or real alcohol.

This mage let me steer out of the way as new developments of the person missing the flesh from there arm. They find a ice flicked fox pinned to a tree across. The madness of the person loosing blood had made everyone around them talk of the inky morphic freak being their savoir.

I take out my journal, as it the only habit I can be relate of recording plans that worked before. Finding no scrap metal from this preist hole noted as a failure, this time. Next is plan 19, being stupid enough to maybe do some work with the mask concisely. Allow myself to loose a slice of logic at the cost of learning a new world and its laws. Just some new place I can find work or steal scrap metal. Scrap anything, dead corpses from other worlds can have teeth, glands or organs to harvest. Sell to freaks or a black market.

"James!" I was pulled to ally side, Karen all in the mage uniform and looking around for anything. She took off something and pockets it in a sealed box, "James, are you crazy?" I stare about her for a long time as I am not really sure what she going on about, "You're meant to be royalty!" I looked around above and surely glared at two birds above. The birds in knowing of being caught flew down to level. The follower bows and the god stared darkly back.

"Not while I am alive. Its a complicated issue and there been reasons why I avoid being among the society." I got her off me, "Karen, you lucky that they are willing to treat you well and give you a job. They wouldn't be this nice to Rick." I give her a hug and pulled her back, "What you may not know is that Greg works for them already. Worse his situation, forced hand so he may live with his love David. Recruiting fostered generation of kids into a back dated society. Forcing children like us into labour or forced to become indoctrinated to Mage cult life. Its nice and not. You should be married and with 2 kids already by thier society norms. To stiff lipped about technology and science. Heck, they don't believe in germ theory." She frowns in seeing that now, "I am gathering things in secret to make things better... because when I go back there. I am going to be executed. It be the last blood family I have or by the beg of justice when I deserted them in time of need." I hold her shoulders, "You can try explaining it and risk execution for speaking heresy or let me return on my own... when I am ready to my fate."

"That isn't right." She disagrees and she shivers at the shock of her world crashing. I caught her from falling on the floor, get her to the nearest suitable seat. The ear peice place back on her in listening.

"Hey miss are you OK?" I playful the arrogant kid, "You look my age... Nice looker." I take action in looking around, "She's bugged. Must be a drug bust. Dudes, I am out of here." Storm myself away, the team collected her. I did hide with watching her be looked after. Rick around to take a paper slip from her pocket with my old nickname he called me. I put it in quote marks and it was a short, I am still alive note.

"So what stops us from making stop of your plan to keep running from your duty as a future king. Or should a say a king unfit to rule and a coward to try." The god quite the ill hater of mine, "Raven, don't bow to a fool like him."

"I sit over no one and nothing. I would only let it fall between my finger like water through thawed ice." I snared back to the god, my buried emotion suddenly erupted, "No one should ever fall bellow myself. Not even my beloved murderer of a uncle! So jealous of my father, had put their heads on those emptied thrones. So tell me, oh wise omen of death. Will it be wise to put my curse on my country's shoulders? They would be more suffering then the plague or germs they refuse treatments for." The god was fluffed in a ball of feathers. Shocked of not just that rude tone and impotence to speak over a gods advice. Yet as a god also see what I said was true. See glimpses of things and obtain untapped knowledge. Many gods have this moment around me, with or without my input. It be the 7 sense triggered when something is incorrect about the situation facing them. Me mouthing off back at them with this honest feeling is extremely wrong. Inhuman speaking to another.

Enough sound here made, I slick around shadows and leave the two birds. The god leaving to do something.

Enough of a trigger for the two to take my words on it and find this truth. They had no evidence that I was the brat my uncle craves to see dead. That I were some royal at all. They been playing it like they believed the assumptions; by really it was to pry information. To confirm or deny these claims from a potential walking dead kid. A strange kid with godly intuitive notions of mortal fate. It more that I make assumptions about what the spirits around us are.

Where I went from here and how I got there doesn't matter. Getting to the airport and jumping flights for a random state of America to play hooky with. Leaving behind the UK for the time being. To play fool in their orphanage systems... if that is if they have any. Airport hotel to recover my stomach and sanity.