The Tethered Soul

As they crossed through the threshold of the small shed; rotting wood, and the stench of mildew clogged his nose.

He took off his hoodie, exposing a noticeable amount of tone across his arms, and eliciting an entire footcandle of lumens out of her. He couldn't be that gross-looking, could he? He laid it down on the floor beneath, gestured for her to sit upon it, and opened the book to page one.

The skies grew darker through the skyward gaps in the leaking roof of the ceiling above. The room grew colder, as the shadow across his mind manifested as a mist upon reality. The clouds rolling in were like a portent of his presence attempting to incarnate. "By reading this synopsis, you have already been cursed. The dread god Azathoth has set his eyes on you, and no longer can there be any escape." He turned his eyes to the heavens above, and the shadowy presence seemed to peer down back into him.

It seemed to be true. Never had the figure overhead once paid Derek's presence any mind. He seemed almost like a pittance, at best.—A fly crawling on the window of his universal bedroom. Only now, the boy had discovered the use of his wings, and was beginning to test his capacity to fly; buzzing around the dread god's head. He had graduated into an annoyance. He read further.

"There can be no further bargaining from his service, now that you are in his sight. You will either kneel before his mercy, or succumb to his wrath; as merely a passing curiosity will erase your presence from the face of the cosmos. You may think yourself powerful, but there is no such thing as power, where he ordains. As an aspect of his will, you forego any and all attachments to this world and become wholly devoid of character. Let his wiles exact themselves upon you, or be annulled."

He scoffed. There was no way that he was going to listen to the advice of someone who had failed. No one understood him like Derek, after all, and so he would have a few pages of his own to add to the end of this great work. He perused in silence a while longer, before pointing, and shouting aloud. "Aha! Here it is, 'The Curse of the Tethered Souls.' I think this might be what we're looking for!"

Sylvia just stared, astonished at the scale of the events that she was witnessing before her. She'd never believed even a single second of his ramblings before, yet the sky had unmistakably shifted. "W-what have you found, Derek?" He held in his hands an object of great personal importance, and she was afraid.

"Shush, I'm reading." He said, with equal parts disdain and concern. Her headlights beamed in concert. He knew that if he didn't understand this absolutely perfectly that he might have untold consequences. "See right here, The column of malice. That's you!" She did not.

"It says here, that one must perceive the connection between the physical and the astral plane, yadda yadda yadda... Hmph." He stroked his pubescent chin, and thought powerfully about the connection between himself and the book before; then spake. "It seems that I have already achieved the first few steps of the technique on my own."

He was surprised to find how basic the instructions were. Perhaps it was accustomed for the practitioners to have been complete novices, before realizing the book. He smiled, more confident than ever at his assessment of his talent.

Thus far, all he had learned from the book was the proper name of such things as the figure overhead, and the so-called "astral plane," where they resided. It turns out that the imaginary world that he had created in order to visualize the effects of the nightmare god was this realm of lore.

Further down the page, his attention scrolled until he found a sentence that was applicable. His eyes widened, and he looked up at her, then back at the book again, to confirm if he saw what he thought he did. Would he really have to do something like that, with her? If it actually succeeded, he might have to flee for his life as her true personality clashed with the possibility of what he had done.

"O-oh goodness. Now, I'm in trouble." The procedure required that he came unbearably close with the bound.

"What is it? Are you okay?" Sylvia was completely at a loss for what was going on here. From her perspective, he had dragged her to a hovel in the middle of the woods, and started prattling on about trusting him, or whatever. This was an awkward way to set about thanking her—there wasn't any romantic music, or anything. She had no clue that there was anything wrong with her to begin with.

He finished re-reading over the text a second time, then a third, but the procedure didn't change. He had to do it. He sighed, and closed the book with a noise like a soft clap. "Now, Sylvia, I'm going to approach you and I just want you to stay still."

"Uh, okay? What's going on?" she blushed, knowing exactly what was about to happen. Is this finally the time? Had she gotten through to him? Did he recognize her feelings, and spare her the indignity of spelling it out for him?

"You're sick, Sylvia. I've known for a long, long time." Holy shift! He said it! He actually said it, and this was about to happen. Oh god, oh god, oh god, she wasn't ready! What was she going to do?!  Her heart burst into a fit of hysterics and her face flooded with ruddiness as he continued. "This book has the faculties to cure you, okay? So, I need you to listen to me very, very carefully."

She nodded, and stared up at him with wide, longing eyes; as he slowly approached—always making certain that she felt comfortable with his advances before he drew closer.—Sure, It wasn't the most average method of confession, but... he wasn't the most average of people. She had prepared her heart for this level of discomfort. She liked that about him, as well.

She was wordless still, as he knelt down right in front of her, so close that their knees touched. Then, he shuffled closer, until he was practically sitting on her lap. Oh, it was almost too much!

Her cheeks burned through so many colors of the thermal spectrum that she almost surely glowed ultraviolet, as he threw his arms round about her shoulders. He whispered, inches from her own face, so quietly that she could almost not hear it herself, even though the message was surely meant for her ears alone. "Now, I'm going to need for you to close your eyes, okay?"

She nodded, silently, and bit her lower lip before closing her eyes. Her arms and chest trembled with anticipation, as he leaned further into her touch upon her lap. She placed her own hands on the small of his back, which he stiffened up against, but his voice came out uneasy and shuddering as he chuckled slightly. "Heehee, D-d-don't get th-the wr-wrong id-d-dea, d-dummy. I'm just doing this for p-p-p-practice, a-alright?"

It made her feel a lot better that he was apparently nervous too. She wanted to comfort him, and show her how much she wanted this. She wanted to prove her affections to him in that moment. Truly, if he had asked her anything in the world, she would have offered it without question.

So, it was a bit of a relief when the next words he whispered were "Open your mouth..." She could feel the heat of his face upon her own. She couldn't have been more than millimeters from coming into contact with him. It surprised her to see him leap right to an open-mouthed maneuver for their first time, but fortune favored the bold she guessed, and gleefully obliged.

He smiled, feeling so unthinkably powerful for having her in such a vulnerable position. He could do whatever he wanted in this situation. It would be so easy to take advantage, but he was a timid lass by nature.

He couldn't in good conscience use the body of his friend for anything untoward. She couldn't actually consent in this state, after all. No, he would do just enough to ensure that she recovered, and he would show her the text if she complained afterwards, for his lascivious intentions.

"Now, just breathe in deeply." He coached her, anxiously. His pulse was so feverish after being in such close contact with another girl. Especially one so beautiful and athletic as his childhood friend.

She could feel his warm breath in her mouth. The breath still smelled minty fresh from his toothpaste in the morning. It was more than a little bit weird inhaling another person's breath, but since it was him, she treasured the experience. She would never forget this feeling.

They remained like that for a moment, trading breath in between each other's open mouths, almost just barely brushing the skin of their lips against one another, but never actually coming into contact. Then, something slimy crawled from inside her esophagus.