Zombie Bite (part 2)

Finally I spoke. "I can't stay here," I begged, surprising the other man. "The horde is close. I can hear it. Take me with you."

The man stared at me in shock before shaking his head. "No, I can't. There will be too many questions and I don't have all the answers. I need you to stay. Don't worry, you're safe here," was all he said before once again grabbing his things and leaving me behind, alone in the room.

But I knew I wasn't safe here. I wouldn't be safe anywhere it seemed. No longer a part of the horde, I would simply be prey to them. Other humans wouldn't understand what I was, and fear and ignorance wasn't a good way to approach them.

Alone and unchained, but unsure where to I could escape, I stared out the window. Outside fires burned where I assumed the other human encampments might be. Zombies roamed the streets, their teeth chattering and ever alert to sounds of their prey. Perhaps they could forgive and welcome me back if I just showed I was one of them, that I never meant to leave the horde, that I was taken from them. Yes, as the horde we were strong, invincible, unafraid. The horde feared nothing and no one, and never had anyone been turned aside from their ranks. Yes, the horde was where I belonged and surely would welcome me back into them.

The man again returned the next day with supplies. Before he could speak, I asked, "Have you tried biting another zombie yet? Did they revert to their human selves as well?"

The man closed his eyes, a shiver climbing up his spine as he took a breath. "Just one other right after I bit you. It was older, I guess, and was already injured. He changed back but succumbed to the bullet holes puncturing his chest. He bled out in front of me and there was nothing I could do." The man's eyes met mine and I could see that there was something worse coming. "Before he died, he told me, begged me to let him die. Said he remembered it all, being a zombie. The screams of his children as he set into them, the taste of their flesh. 'The Hunger' he repeated as he struggled to stop me from applying pressure to his wounds. He was terrified. I don't think I can do that to anyone else."

His body convulsed in horror and he doubled-over, vomiting on the hardwood. I moved in closer to see tears and puke splatter on the floor. I waited. There was still one more question I needed answered. After a while, he straightened, wiping his face with the sleeve of his jacket. His eyes widened and his body recoiled in shock when he realized how close I'd gotten. "Do you remember being a zombie as well? Everything you did? I'm so sorry bringing you back to relive it all."

I ignored his questions and his sympathy. "Have you told anyone else about what you could do? About what they might be able to do?" I asked, my hands reaching out to him desperately.

The man reeled back, slapping my questing hands away. "Do you remember being a zombie?" He asked again, though with not the same amount of conviction he possessed the last time.

"Did you tell anyone?" I asked, louder this time as my hands sought again to grab him.

His eyes widened and I could see an understanding come across his face. "You remember," he said in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

"Did you tell anyone?" My voice filling the room as my hands finally latched onto his shirt.

"No, I couldn't. I wouldn't let anyone do what I did to another person. I'm so sorry."

My hands shook him hard, then slammed him against a wall. "Sorry for taking me from the safety of the horde, kidnapping me into this terrifying world where I'm just meat?"

Confused, he said, "No, for bringing you back along with all the the things you've done." Another moment of clarity washed over his face as I bore down upon him, my body pinning his to the ground. My teeth parted flesh as I bit into his throat. I tasted metal as blood filled my mouth. Though The Hunger no longer drove my actions, I still attacked with the same ferocity I once possessed. I tore away, ripping apart a piece of the man in the process. My hands held him as my teeth ground his body down, and I let it slide down my throat. For his part, the other man struggled, he pleaded, just as prey should. He tried to escape but I was determined and he was losing blood.

I leaned back against the wall and watched and waited, eyes focused intensely on the body before me. If a bite from a human could take me from the horde, could my bite still bring someone into the horde? The light made its way across the room until darkness once again filled the room. The corpse continued to simply lie still, inert. I felt something inside me break and I bolted upright. My fists pounded themselves into the walls and countertops. I took objects into my hands only to smash them on the ground. Taken from the horde, I could no longer bring anyone into its glory.

Then I heard it. The familiar chattering of teeth and shuffling of unsteady feet. My brethren. Down several flights of stairs I flew until I emerged back on the street. Before me stood a small group of zombies, members of the horde eternal. I let out a shout, clapped my hands, stomped my feet, offering myself to their Hunger. Though I could no longer feel it, I knew The Hunger had taken notice, the zombies shuffling to me. I felt their hands take hold. Then came the teeth, eruptions of pain where they tore into me. Something inside me screamed to run, flee from the pain but I dismissed it. This was the initiation into the horde, the same as I'd endured before to join their safety, and I'd suffer it again and again. My legs went weak and I collapsed on to the pavement, bodies piling on top of me. But soon I'd rise strong once more. My vision darkened and soon I'd awaken to pain being nothing more than a memory. We were the horde, and we were invincible.

 

From a Reddit Writing Prompt about being chased by a zombie and, in a last-ditch effort, decide to bite the zombie first. This is actually a prompt that comes up what seems like once a month, and I actually started it a couple months ago when I saw roughly the same prompt pop-up. The original version though was from the POV of the guy who bites the zombie. It was going well and I was almost done but when I got to the end I couldn't figure out how to show increasing paranoia from the outside. I decided it would look better from the POV of the zombie turned human so I decided not to finish the story and would do a re-write. Then I did nothing with it because well other things. Then the prompt appeared again so I decided that was a good excuse to go back and finish the re-write. Of course without a background in psychology and my general obliviousness to my surroundings and others, I'm really not sure if I captured the main character's fear and growing paranoia properly, but that's going to require either going back to school or actually paying attention to people and I'm not interested in either at the moment. I'm also told that you can't observe your own paranoia since crazy people don't think they're crazy so I guess that method of research isn't going to work too well. Also if you're curious, yeah, I'm impressed I went three weeks in a row with a post. Sure last week's had been written for  weeks prior and I had the bare bones of this story sitting around for months but still I'm on my way to making this a weekly thing (just another thing for you to scroll past) as I always intend to do. And then once I talk about it I'll always find an excuse to break my writing habit. I can already feel a cold coming on. Luckily next week's is almost done as well so that should cover that. Also, if you're thinking that means I'm going to put more effort into the following post with all the extra time, you really should be reading something else.

Zombie Bite (part 1)

Our horde spilled into the city like a flood. Our prey ran with heavy steps and panting breaths. These were the sounds of food, the trails they left for us to follow. Here and there, small packs broke from the horde to give chase down alleys and into buildings, like blind fingers hunting for the very last cookie in a jar. We were one being, and though one or two or twenty might be brought down, they are soon replaced. We are strong, we feel no pain, we are invincible.

We chased the fleeing sounds down an alleyway. A deafening boom and one of our numbers is slowed but not stopped for pain is no longer a deterrent. Another boom and one of ours drops from the horde. No loss for we are many. We continue forward to our prey now scurrying out of the sunlight. More noises, more of us disappear. We pay no heed for The Hunger drives us all. It is that which gives the horde meaning, purpose. Finally hands are placed upon the prey but our teeth cannot find flesh. It struggles, holding us back and denying us our prize. It matters not as its strength will inevitably wane and soon we shall satisfy The Hunger.

We feel a pressure clenching at my arm. I look down to find a sensation like I haven't felt in a lifetime. A shockwave of agony radiates throughout my body, forcing me away from our prey and onto the wooden floorboards.

Suddenly, I'm awake again, my heart pounding in my chest. I gasp as air stings through pathways left too long unused. My eyes blink, bringing the world into focus. A man stands above me, his hands moving, connecting two items together. It takes another moment for my brain to work out the puzzle before me. I raise my arms as the other man points the reloaded gun at my face. I shut my eyes and try to tell him to stop but the only noise I can make is a wheezing sound.

The bullet doesn't come. Instead, something wet splashes on my face. A small drop of blood. A deep bite mark cut into my skin. A piece of dead flesh hanging from the lip of the other man.

"What's going on, zombie? Are you human again?" the man with the gun says wiping away the dead skin with one hand while his other keeps the gun trained on me as if expecting us, no, me, me to lunge hungrily at him.

I stare back, no longer connected to the horde, no longer driven by The Hunger. My throat and mouth still not used to forming words, I just nod. The gun still trained on me, I'm terrified. Depending on the bullet's trajectory, much more than simply death awaits me. He grabs an arm and pulls me to a pipe running vertically through the wall of the room. A cuff goes around my wrist, and another anchors me to the pipe. The man stares at the bite mark on my arm, then touches his mouth. "I'm not sure what is going on, but I need you to stay here until I can sort this out."

Alone in the apartment, the night settles across the city. Silence dominates the room but outside it was punctuated by unsettling sounds. The howls and screams of stray cats and dogs roaming the streets. Crashes and bangs the sounds of humans doing their best to survive the apocalypse around them. Worst of all, the shuffling footstep, origins unknowable from my spot in the room. Whether they belonged to other zombies or other humans, either presented a threat to me. No longer part of the horde, The Hunger would set my former kin against me. Other humans, already untrustworthy in my life before joining the horde, should be treated with more suspicion in this new world.

I sat tense, waiting in the darkness, unable to find either peace or sleep. Images of my previous life floated through my mind: shambling after other humans, my hands tightening, my mouth filled with their meat, screams unheeded now piercing my ears. Through it all though, was the feeling of safety. There were no secrets, no deceptions, no betrayals within the horde, all of us driven similarly by The Hunger. We were one.

The morning light made it halfway across the room before the man returned. As the door creaked open, my body jumped and was immediately yanked back down my the anchoring pipe. "Looks like you're still human." The man tossed me a bottle of water which I guzzled down greedily. Though a human's needs weren't as strong or driving as The Hunger, I still found them formidable, devouring the canned meat thrown to me next. "I haven't had any luck cornering another zombie to see if biting it might turn it human too. And I haven't told anyone about you yet. If they think that just biting all the zombies will turn everyone back, it'll cause a riot. I just need more answers first."

I nodded along in agreement, too scared still to leave the room much less meet with other humans. Who knows what they'll think of a zombie turned human. Maybe they'd rather have revenge for those we'd, I'd probably eaten rather then answers. No, isolation was the safe play.

Our arrangement continued like this a while: I stayed hidden and he'd continue to bring me supplies, sometimes daily or sometimes with enough food and water to last for days when he knew he wouldn't be able to sneak away. At night, the images of what I'd done would come back to me, and I'd sleep in the memories. Soon though the noises outside changed from merely ambling footsteps to the distinct and constant chattering of teeth. The horde roamed the city, no longer sweeping through en masse but spreading over it, through it like a puddle seeping wherever it could go, hunting for food.

Backpack Memorial

 

 

So, about two months ago (shut up, I had other things that I was failing to write, but mostly I dreaded going through those old pictures ... ugh just look at that guy), the zipper on my backpack broke. I was just pulling the zipper open, nothing that I hadn't done a million times, and it just came apart. If you've been on vacation with me, went to school with me, worked with me, or have just known me within the last 15 years, you know which backpack. Though one of the pockets now won't close all the way, it isn't completely unusable. I'm not sure if it's repairable, mostly because I'm stupid. Anyways, after surviving this long, I guess I should write some sort of eulogy/ relive some memories before it disappears either into my closet (if I can trick myself that it's still usable) or into the trash.

Yes, I know how weird this entire post is. I'm attempting to write a memorial for a backpack that doesn't give a shit what I say about it, or, more likely after having held my notebooks for over a decade, would rather me not say anything knowing how terrible at writing I am. It was weird going through so many old photos to see if anyone captured a picture of me with my back turned, or if I happened to put my bag down so it's still in the shot. It's also weird that for something I've had since highschool, I can't think of really stand-out significant stories that focus on my backpack. It's been with me through highschool, college, study abroad in Japan, Portland, Seattle, New York (sort-of, I think most days of that trip I carried a drawstring bag), Australia, Seattle again, Japan again, and Korea, and not to mention every single day at this job I've been at for almost 10 years now. I guess the best stories to tell are the times when it really came through for me, whatever that means exactly.

On just a day to day basis, my backpack was responsible for carrying so many things necessary to my daily survival. Items of note include my notebooks and spare pens for when inspiration or boredom strike, whatever book I happen to be reading so I can further avoid participating with society, my phone charger because PokemonGo drains my battery so fast these days, and my hoodie for those odd days when the office A/C is much colder than usual.

There was the time that all I had was my backpack and its contents when Terry and I took a week-long trip to Kyoto (it probably wasn't a week but I know if I start re-reading the journal I kept then I'm going to keep on reading and not finish this stupid post). Not needing an entire suitcase of stuff for just a week of adventure, I managed to stuff my backpack with a week's worth of supplies. Of course, most of it went into a locker at the hostel but the bag came with me as we traveled around Kyoto, Nara, Osaka ... other places (now I can't remember, fuck I'm getting old). Also, just to amend my earlier statement, looks like it was just three or four days at least based on the folders I sorted my pictures from the trip, but that's still a good-sized side quest, right?

Backpack and I also hiked Mt. Fuji with a group while studying abroad, originally starting by holding my hoodie, an extra t-shirt, some snacks and water bottles. That was also when I learned that the reason people hike Mt. Fuji during the summer is not because it's cooler to be on the mountain than in the hot and humid city, but because the weather will kill you at other times. That said, I packed light, leaving behind my actual heavy jacket because I thought I'd be sweating on the hike and I didn't want to carry so much stuff through Tokyo to the bus station. Upon arrival at the freezing mountain though, I immediately emptied by backpack of everything I could wear. The extra shirt and hoodie made the hike survivable but not at all comfortable. Actually, I take that back. The first thing I did after getting off the bus was ask some guy where I could smoke (poisoning my lungs before trekking up a mountain, stupidity really should've killed me off by now). We managed to beat the sunrise to the ... well not quite the top but as high up as we were going to get.

Still on the topic of hiking (which I guess is where backpack stories truly shine), a couple friends and I went exploring the summer palace years and years ago. As we wandered around (I'm not sure what exactly we were looking for) we got lost trying to find our way back to the highway. Then the rain came and drenched us. Lost in the woods and wet, I thought we were going to end up as another story of dumbass hikers needing to be rescued by helicopter. By pure luck (we had no idea where we were going) we managed to find our way out and back to our cars. And, through it all, my bag managed to protect my cigarettes from getting soaked, which I remember being extremely thankful for.

I guess now that we're talking about protecting my stuff from the elements, I'll just quickly mention some notable rain storms that my backpack saved my stuff: That one time I stupidly thought I could walk from Keio University back to the dorm which I think was 14 kilometers or something like that and the rain caught me a couple hours into the walk; My first night in Seattle (the second time) coming back from my friends' apartment and wandering the long way around instead of a straight line from the bus station back to the motel; That one day in my Korea trip that I refused to stay at the hostel all day and headed out into the rain to spend several hours in a library (the housekeeper later looked at me like I was an idiot for not taking any of the free umbrellas).

Finally (or maybe I should've put this in the beginning... oh well too late now), if you cared (and I guess to fill space), about those pictures (from top left clockwise): Feeding deer in Nara; Gundam exhibit at a Uniqlo; Me and the Coronal; waiting for the train from Portland to Seattle; Spark of writing inspiration in Korea; Group picture in Australia; Me and slinky in Enoshima; On the steps of the Sydney Opera House; Tour guide for visiting Japanese highschoolers; ... I'm not sure but I think it's Jiyugaoka; Crossing the street in Kamakura; after classes at UH. Background: Changdeokgung Palace.

When you're trying to give an exam but your students keep getting summoned as chosen ones to other realms (part two)

Instantly, wards and barriers of all shapes and sizes and colors sprung up into existence, shielding me from the magical blast. The temperature in the room rose several degrees as Keisha, Anna, and a couple of the other students began chanting and charging and weaving together their magical spells. Swords and knives hissed out of their scabbards as the students wielding them rose from their chairs. Plasma rifles and nano-machines were pulled from pocket dimensions as Jasmine used her cybernetic eye to direct those students around the classroom while maintaining lines of sight on their target.

"You walked into the wrong room, motherfucker!" shouted Xander, his boxed AI expanding around him into a fully mechanized battle-suit.

"Language, Xander. The next time it's detention," I said from behind the shields. My eyes glared at the gleaming metal armor until I saw its shoulders drop into Xander's typical slouch. I turned my attention back to the Demon King. "He's not wrong, though. This is not the classroom you want to be starting a fight. Every one of these kids are heroes in their own right." I saw a gleam in not a few of the students' eyes and let out a sigh. After all, it isn't often that they get to speak their names and titles in our world.

Blue runes glowed all over Anna's skin as raw magic wove into a spell between her fingers. "Anna the Wanderer, Healer of the Grorder Fields, Mother to the Silenced, Slayer of Filliux the Dragon."

"Battle Queen Keisha, Savior of Hessia, Holder of the Final Line, the Goddess's Hand, Blade in the night," said Keisha with a mystical arrow drawn in a bow also made of pure magic.

"Sir Kevin, spymaster of Sir Arthur, forgotten knight of the Round Table, and defender of Camelot," said Kevin, his sword raised.

The weapons on the battle suit lowered slightly. "Uh, I'm Xander. I just got this suit for helping some kid with his history report on the 20th century. Apparently every kid in the future has one just lying around."

The Demon King growled, a low rumble in the back of his throat before slowly raising his massive hands in surrender and returning into the abandoned chair. The rest of the class remained standing, ready for combat. I set my gaze upon each of them in turn. "Class, please return to your tests," I said before turning back to my desk at the front of the room. It took another minute or two but eventually the students stowed their respective weapons and returned to their exams.

Ten minutes passed in relative silence, quiet except for the sounds of pencil scratches and the occasional groan. "Why do you make them do this?" asked the Demon King, "If they are the heroes you claim, why not train them in combat?"

Several eyes peeked up at the Demon King's question, and I knew not a few of them wondered the same thing. "Simple. I'm a teacher. This is my job."

"Why not teach them then how to wield sword or bow? Or drill them upon military tactics and strikes?"

I shrugged. "That's not in the school's curriculum." I saw more eyes on me now than on their tests. "It isn't my place to teach those things. Wherever these children end up, it will be up to them to figure out how to handle the situation they are faced with. The best way to do that is by learning. I'm not just teaching them math and history and chemistry, but also simply how to learn."

At that moment, another brilliant flash filled the room, this one a blinding white. Again, I needed to blink away the glare, this time finding Maria looking exactly how she left now back at her desk and the Demon King gone. Before I could say anything, Maria was out of her seat and storming to the front of the class.

"You fucking idiot!" she shouted, slapping Billy across the face. A couple of the students gasped while the rest fell silent, letting the lone sound of Maria's heavy, angry breathing fill the room. A realization fell across her face and her features reverted back from pure, seething anger to the shy, quiet kid with which I was familiar.

"Detention, Mr. S. You heard her," said Xander, breaking the tension and causing a few stifled laughs amongst his classmates, including Maria.

"Shut it, Xander," I said with a smile myself before gesturing to Maria, permission to continue.

She took a breath and nodded, again finding her confidence within her justified outrage. "You led the legions through the Undercaves of Merg, murdering hordes upon hordes of orcs on your way to the Demon King's castle."

"So what," Billy said, rubbing his cheek. "Orcs make up the bulk of the Demon King's army."

"The orcs in his army are with the army, not the ones simply making their homes in the Undercaves. The legions killed so many it was practically a genocide. Do you even understand the role orcs play in the ecosystem of Abaloth?" Tears started to form in Maria's eyes but she held them from falling and continued on. "Orcs are strong, tough, eat almost anything, and breed quickly. You know what else does those things? Tetrok rock spiders, Grovi venomous slugs, Sterbenzia wolves, and a whole bunch of other creatures with no natural predators except for orcs. We had a hell of a time culling their numbers while the orc population recovered and rebounded. Luckily, I guess, you did at least manage to defeat the Demon King because he was no where to be found."

Anna let out a cough. "Umm, he was actually here with us. Switched places with you when you got summoned."

Maria glared at Billy, her eyes narrowing as rage again consumed her face. Finally, she just threw her hands in the air, let out a groan, and stomped back to her desk.

The class immediately broke apart: some crowded around Maria, excited to hear her tale about the adventure, others huddled together to talk strategy in case anything like the Demon King came to our world again. And before I could get the class settled once again so we could finish the exam, Billy again vanished into thin air. Exhausted, I just sank into my chair and stared at the ceiling. Maybe we'll finish the test tomorrow.

From the Reddit Writing Prompts, something about you giving an exam when suddenly one of your students vanishes only to return covered in blood (it was a really long prompt). For the most part, the story followed exactly where I had planned from the start when I first read the writing prompt: it was going to be about a teacher whose students were "chosen ones" that keep getting summoned to other realms. Originally I did hope to write it with a more comedic tone (the kids constantly skipping class when they're summoned away, using the time they're gone to cheat on homework or study for tests, etc) but comedy is hard (constantly overthinking if jokes are funny). Plus it was making the story even longer so I cut the stuff I wrote or just didn't write out certain things. Of course, the hardest (and funnest) part of writing this was just coming up with the names and titles for the kids to have. I always suck at coming up with names, but it was fun this time to come up with their titles, until, of course, I took it too far and started trying to come up with backstories for the kids on how they gained these titles, forgetting that this is just supposed to be a dumb practice story. It's not as if I haven't been writing, it's just that I'm too lazy to type after spending eight hours in front of a computer screen. Also, I had a few setbacks in other stories that I was working on that needed to be redone instead of finished (I'll get to them eventually).

When you're trying to give an exam but your students keep getting summoned as chosen ones to other realms (part one)

I paced between the desks from one side of the room to the other, watching every movement of my students' hands and heads. Once I completed the circuit, I walked back to the front of the classroom. "Thirty minutes left," I said as I tapped the chalkboard for emphasis. Pencils scratched faster and a grumbled murmur spread throughout the class. Then I noticed Billy. One moment he was struggling through an exam I knew he didn't study for. The next moment he was tossing his pencil, notebook, and exam into his backpack, tugged on his jacket, stood up, and just vanished.

I cocked my head quizzically at the situation. The other students that might've noticed put their heads back down and carried on with their exams. A moment later, Billy reappeared drenched in blood, some of it dripping onto the floor. Besides the blood, a few tears in his school uniform, and the patchy stubble growing on his face, he didn't appear much different than when he disappeared. He gave me a brief, sheepish grin, pulled the exam and a pencil from his bag, and started again on his test.

"Wait a moment," I said as I rapped my knuckles on the wooden desk, "You know the drill." An unintelligible grumble swept the class as well as a few sighs of relief. "Don't get too comfortable. You will complete your tests right after we finish." A large binder came out of the locked drawer at the bottom of my desk.

"Aww, come on Mr. S," Billy said with his pencil still in hand. "I really want to finish the test."

I nodded along, skeptical. "I'm sure you do," I said, making a mental note to check that no dwarves or elves helped him on his chemistry exam, "but you know we do this every time one of you is transported to a fantastical world."

"Any fantasy world," Anna said, glowing blue runes lining her face and arms.

"Or historical past," said Kevin, a long sword leaning against the side of his desk.

"Or a technological dystopia," said Jasmine, her cybernetic eye gazing back at me.

"Or the far future," Xander said as he attempted to again hide the boxed AI that he used to cheat on tests.

Billy just groaned and dropped his pencil on to his desk. "Fine, I was summoned by the Kingdom of Latmier to help them vanquish the Demon King."

At the word "Latmier" I pointed to Keisha on the other side of the classroom. "Latmier," she said, "is one of the kingdoms on the continent of Abaloth in the land of Cenkorham, bordering the Kingdom of Hessia."

"Got to visit Hessia for a minute before marching on the Demon King's army with the remainder of Latmier's famed heavy cavalry," said Billy with awe in his voice, "They've got a giant statue of you in the center of the kingdom. They say you held off a thousand goblins alone at that spot." Keisha turned away, blushing in embarrassment.

I let out a cough. "Okay, and how long since Keisha helped Hessia hold off The Scourge?" I asked, attempting to track Cenkorham's history in my binder.

Billy looked away, as if the answer might be written on the ceiling somewhere. Based on his last history exam though, I didn't have much hope he'd remember any dates, but surprisingly a minute later, he responded. "About 300 years or so, give or take a decade."

I jotted down his response, making note that even after 300 years it appeared that life in Cenkorham hadn't changed much. "Also, why are you still covered in blood? Did they send you back right after the battle?" I asked as I put the binder away.

"Ummm," Billy said, tugging at his blood-soaked collar, "I didn't actually stay until the very end of the war. After our assault, we were searching the castle. I found this portal-thing and just thought, you know, that since all of our forces were inside the castle that they didn't need me anymore. So I just left, stepped through the portal and ended up back here."

"You moron," said Xander as several other students snickered, "You can't just leave a quest. We're chosen ones. You gotta stay until the end."

"Xander," I said, glaring at the student until he slouched back into his seat, "Language." Then I stared at Billy for a moment. "I guess if you made it back safely then there shouldn't be any harm. As your classmate pointed out, it is unusual." Before I could instruct the class back to their exams, a red circle appeared on the floor beneath another student's feet. Maria looked at me and simply shrugged as a flash of red light blinded the room. "Oh, come on. Two students in one day. I had this exam planned out for weeks," I said pounding a fist on my desk in frustration.

Once my vision cleared I found myself staring at something that may have crawled out of a nightmare. It stood roughly seven feet tall in bulky black armor that contrasted with its ashen-pale skin. Red runes covered almost every inch of the man's exposed flesh while something dark and eel-like seemed to swim just below the surface. Red horns, each about six inches long, formed a crown around his head. He stared back at me with eyes that burned like lava pits. Around him, the air felt charged, like a brewing storm. "So, who are you? And will Maria be back in time to finish the exam?" I asked.

The creature replied in a monstrous voice, its breath stinking of rotted flesh and buzzing like a thousand flies even from the other side of the room. I am Melkinzor, the Demon King, Bringer of Ruin, Landwaster, Burner of the Tellsalla Forests, Collapser of the Bilkasian Caves, Pillager of the Grand Hall -"

A textbook slammed onto my desk with a Boom! that echoed in the classroom and silenced our unwanted guest. "Sorry, did you say 'Demon King'?" I asked, turning my glare to Billy, who shrunk back in his desk. "I've a pretty good guess about why you're here, but if you wouldn't mind returning Maria, we do have a chemistry exam to complete today. We can send Billy back to defeat you tomorrow."

"Foolish mortal. I care not for your wants or requests. Denied my prize of Abaloth, I shall conquer your world instead starting with you swine that insult me with your presence!" The Demon King made a gesture with his hands that hurt my eyes to watch, and spoke a string of words that felt like they would cause bleeding in my ears. The air in the classroom charged with electricity, cracks forming in anything made of glass, and a bolt of red lightning snaked a path toward me.