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Karkus: A Fictional Narrative

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Karkus gazed in confusion at the videos projected on the wall in front of him divided by a golden line spanning from the ground to the ceiling. Each video played myriad events—lasting from a few seconds to, at most, a minute—one after another. Silhouettes of humans, human-like figures, and creatures unknown to him were shown with detailed background. Despite watching, he can’t remember a specific scene nor recall anything about it. Even if it was displayed and ended a few seconds ago—he simply saw them. As if a wind inside his brain fanned out the created memories through his spores without him noticing.
He drew towards the wall, and hovered his left hand near it. Not a hint of light reflected on his arm, it seemed that only his eyes could …show more content…

A wolf pounced, curled midair, toward the man like a spiked ball. The man stooped, reached for the pouch hanging on his waist, and pulled out a small blade. He stepped sideways, dodging the wolf, and stabbed it as it passed. However, it didn’t affect the wolf. It growled furiously as it joined the circle. A gust passed by taking leaves along with it.
The man yanked his pouch, and unloaded two blades onto his right palm. He bent his knees and spun—throwing a blade to the unharmed wolves. The blades lengthened as it arced to the wolves’ flesh. The man clenched both of his hands as the blade piercing rushed to his ears. Immediately, the blades widened and sliced the wolves’ body apart. The man fell onto his knees, raised his fist, and cried a triumphant roar.
“Strange,” Karkus said. “How could that tire the man considering his build?” The man stood at the same place from the beginning of the scene until the end and moved minimally without wasting any movements. Yet the man looked very tired and took long, deep breaths—eventually the scene faded.
“It’s a Special Magic.” A voice …show more content…

“Is the something you need from me?”
“Yes, I want you to meet me tomorrow at Westrolls Restaurant at this same time.”
“Eh?”
“This is sudden, I know. But you must meet me tomorrow.”
“I don’t even know you.”
“I’m the guy that wears a brown cap, blue sports jacket that jogs through here. I noticed that you always visit here so I thought we’ll have a talk about something tomorrow.”
“I see. Why do you—”
“Just don’t ask today, I’ll explain the reason tomorrow. The restaurant is in downtown and there’s many people there. Don’t worry about any danger.”
“Suspicious. Well, I suppose I’ll meet you there.”
“Great! Now I have to go. Let’s meet again.”
He hands me a small card that has his phone number and leaves. Far away, a purple light shoots out from his right eye that soars up to the sky, leaving a transparent trail behind. He ignores it and just continue on running. I, however, stares at it as it approaches the horizon (it moves quite fast). After it touch the horizon, its trail vanishes as if nothing has happened. The students near the fountain nor the passers-by seem to notice the strange light that shoots out.
As I wait for the sun to set after the strange meeting, ethereal threads begin to weave the park.
My vision darkens.
Karkus vision

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