I’ve got nothing of substance to write about the progress I’ve made in my project. Hence, I’ll turn to fiction and write a short piece here for the heck of it. So there.
My name is Thomas Dahl. Tonight I’m probably going to die. Death. The End. The Final Frontier. I’m strapped into a chair in the middle of a far flung warehouse on the far edges of the city of Coldstone. A metropolis in which I’m charged with protecting the citizens, business interests and whatever else manages to populate our streets. I’m a Captain in the CPD and I’m a rough son of a gun. I’d use harsher words, but I told The Lord I wasn’t interested in that life anymore. And by The Lord, I do mean God. The Big Man. Kahuna. The Decider. Creator. All those and more names that I’m not really interested in having to remember in this small little insignificant moment I’m sharing with you.
You see, I’m set to die at the hands of some very bad guys. Ghosts, Goblins, Hobgoblins, Demons and everything else you can imagine in the deepest of those nightmares that marked many of our younger years. You know those monster movies that gave us the night terrors that drove our parents bonkers? Well, it’s real. All of it. Well, most of it. We’ve not yet had the outbreak of zombies that we feared but that’s thank to some government types that stopped it before it got off The Island. Yes, that’s what we call the former United Kingdom. That is a nasty place full of horrifying hordes of hell. That’s where it all started. That’s where the very gates of darkness were opened.
You see, some idiot started The End before it was ready to Begin. I now serve in the Army of the Light. Fighting against the darkness as Those We Serve begin to bring about the final battle as it was foretold. Ther are rules and regulations with this End of the World stuff and I never really realized it until I got pulled into this mess.
There are men and women out there who dabble in the dark and light arts. Guys that are called wizards. Not Harry Potter type wizards. These guys are tough as nails and given the chance would wipe the floor with whatever ectoplasm you have left after they’ve liquefied your brain. Then there’s us. The Good Guys. The Chosen Ones. The Protectorate. Together with most of the wizards, witches & magic makers we are holding a delicate line against The Darkness and The Warrent. It’s hard, it’s rough and it’s going to get me killed tonight. I’ve dodged it enough to know this is more real than those past moments of thankfulness at another day alive.
So I’ll tell my story to you. And maybe this will help you when everything starts to happen. Like everything, it’s inevitable.
