The Chosen Ones part 2

It didn't take long, just about half a turn before the wolves struck, invigorated as Ella had said by the Wolf-God's howl. Unfortunately, the wolf with the arrow protruding from its shoulder was heading right for me. Not the scenario Hugh wanted. Which was probably the reason for the hand on my shoulder. Hugh yanked me behind him as he simultaneously shoved Luther away from our group to put himself right in the injured wolf's incoming path.

I stumbled backwards and spun once, twice, until I eventually regained my feet, only to find myself staring into the eyes of an oncoming wolf, presumably one that meant to strike me from behind. Behind me, a glass shattered and the rancid smell of piss, shit, and death filled my nostrils. Unfortunate familiar smells considering the adventures and quests I'd spent my life completing, and I focused instead on the task at-hand. The wolf's senses though did not allow it to simply ignore the new odor, forcing it to pause a beat, whether out of curiosity or disgust I didn't wait to find out. Instead, I tossed the enchanted rope at the stunned wolf. In a moment, the rope had extended itself and immobilized its target. Then it began to tighten. Behind me, I heard Hugh let out a roar as his boots thudded forth on the hard packed dirt. I heard the sounds of knives being unsheathed and decided to pull mine too, just in case. My worries however appeared unfounded as I watched the rope tighten around the wolf's throat, the movement of its chest quicken then slow, then stop, the life disappearing from its eyes.

I turned to see Hugh plunging his own knife into the injured wolf's throat, then ripping it out with a spray of blood. Several other knife wounds covered the wolf's body. Presumably, Hugh had broken the glass containing the vile contents and used the same distraction I had to take down the already injured wolf.

That made two down, but the third? Before I could look, a mouth of blades sliced into the back of my leg, dropping me to my knees. Without breaking stride, the lone wolf sprinted on, the dissipating scent no longer a hindrance, through our group and landing on Luther, tackling him to the ground. The wolf growled as it snapped its jaws and raked its claws while Luther screamed just as loud in return, twisting and turning his body to avoid the worst. Ella let fly a couple arrows, each burying themselves into the wolf's flank, but doing little to stop or slow its savagery. I saw a glint of steel followed by a tiny yelp and the wolf paused its attack for the briefest second. That, however, was all the time Ella needed to put a final arrow through its throat. The wolf paused, the only movement being its jaws opening and closing as if gasping for air. It stepped off of Luther, taking a few paces, its front paws swiping at the arrow shaft protruding from its neck as if it could possible knock it loose. A futile effort in the end when the wolf eventually succumbed to the injury, settling itself on the ground and dying.

The battle over, I attempting to stand, but found myself unable to do so alone. Ella came by to assist, handing me my walking staff for balance once we got me to my feet. "When this is over, we'll get you into the house to get that wound cleaned and closed up," she said. We looked over to the other two boys, Hugh attempting to pull Luther out of the fetal position and to his feet. "Though we might have to start with him," she added.

I patted Ella on the shoulder, smiling. "Don't worry about Luther. He'll be fine. He always is. Somehow," I said, seeing Luther, with Hugh's encouragement, take a moment to steady himself before sheathing his knife. Sure enough, Besides a few small cuts, Luther was just fine having managed to avoid the brunt of the beast's strikes.

"Thank the gods it's finally over. I could've died. This backwoods village better have a healer in town, and a proper one at that," Luther said, showing me a particularly long scratch on his arm, the blood staining his sleeve where the claw cut through but already starting to clot. Then he noticed the gash in my own leg and nearly fainted.

I shook my head again amazed at how Luther managed to survive so many brushes with death. "Okay, those four are down. Two others sneaked off to attack Isaac and Nathaniel to get at the younger children. David and Fiora are still out in the woods distracting the Wolf-God."

A howl that again shook me erupted from the treeline followed by sounds of two kids shouting, and suddenly the decision of which pair to help was made for us. David and Fiora started sprinting from the trees followed a moment later by Kreterack, the Wolf-God. "We need some help here!" shouted David, pumping his arms, his usual aristocratic appearance disheveled by the time spent avoiding the giant wolf. Running next to him, Fiora appeared the same as she always looked as the woods were her usual stomping grounds, though slightly out of breath.

The giant wolf made strides to catch up with the two, but not as quickly as expected as every couple of steps, in mid-stride, a leg would rise just a little higher than usual, scratching its body. To make such a large creature itch, Fiora must've called upon every flea and tick in the woods to hop a ride on the wolf. The wolf was still coming though, even if it was falling behind the two, heading right for our group.

"Hugh, you wouldn't happen to have anymore traps or snares hidden in these woods, do you?" I asked, hopeful with a tightening grip on my staff.

"Sorry, Master, I'm all out of tricks," Hugh replied, fingers again dancing along the knives on his belt, though unclear the harm those small blades could do against such a large beast.

Before I could ask, Ella let fly an arrow, striking the wolf's shoulder. a shot that stunned the regular-sized wolf didn't even faze Kreterack as he continued his charge, saliva glistening on its maw. "Master, I'm not sure I can see a way out of this one," Ella said as she again notched another arrow.

As winded as he must've been, once David got passed me he braced himself on my shoulder and shouted, "Hey there fleabag, be a good boy and sit!" I swear that boy could infuriate a monk. In response, the Wolf-God let out a tremendous bark that rippled the air, the force causing me to take a step back as its breath hit my nose, the smell of death.

Fiora arrived a moment after, stopping right next to me. In that moment between the scratching, the insult, and the single bark, Fiora let out an ear-splitting screech of her own. Her call was answered by another, seemingly a mile away and closing fast. A streak of red-and-black plummeted like a lighting bolt, talons raking one of the wolf's eyes. Injured the wolf let out a yelp, though determined as it was to kill us, didn't pause its charge for a second.

"Oh we are so dead," Luther said, cowering on all fours, tears streaking down his face. "That monster is going to eat us all."

Then Kreterack the Wolf-God stumbled, coming to a skid in the dirt. As focused as the beast was on its kill, all of the minor injures we'd provided distracted the beast enough that it must not have seen the branch lying in its path, the branch thrown earlier by Luther when he surrendered to the smaller wolves. The giant crashed to the ground as its foot slid out from under it. The wolf's chin hit first and the momentum it built up carried it close enough that I could make out the shape of the teeth that were about to bite into me once the wolf took a moment to recover.

Then, from behind me, came the sound of boots stomping across flat earth. "On your feet, coward!" shouted Isaac as he sprinted past me, right at Luther. As Luther rose to look at what had happened, Isaac's boot landed on his back. Luther let out a grunt while Isaac let out a roar as he launched into the air, an axe whipping around for an overhead chop, shining bright with blue runes.

Behind me stood Nathaniel, his hands holding the final position for the "Lightening Spell", a simple spell meant to lessen the weight of an object, usually to allow pack animals to carry or haul more cargo than usual. He'd used the spell to lighten the axe making it possible for Isaac to not only jump into the air with it but also swing it too. But, I thought, worried, if he made contact with the wolf while the spell was in place, the axe wouldn't hit with its full strength. In fact, it might not do anything at all.

"Now!" I heard both boys shout simultaneously. Isaac began whipping the axe around looking to strike the top of the wolf's head with an overhead swing. Nathaniel's hands began casting, moving similarly to the Lightening Spell, but in reverse. The Weighted Spell.

Nathaniel's hands finished the spell just before Isaac finished the arc of the blow, the axe head now glowing red. The momentum of the swing brought the magically-weighted axe down on the wolf's skull, cracking it with a shattering Crunch! before burying itself into the brain. Isaac landed on the wolf's head, then of course, lost his balance and fell into the dirt, leaving the axe stuck inside the wolf. The wolf though, didn't move.

"Looks like we got here just in time," said Isaac, dusting himself off nonchalantly, as if killing a giant wolf wasn't a big deal.

"So, I guess that's done and we can all go back home now, right?" asked Luther, still completely unaware how his actions contributed to saving all of us.

"Master Trovanos," started Ella, "they attacked all three of our groups, no one was spared. What does that mean in regards to determining the Chosen One?"

Leaning upon my staff, I looked at the seven young pairs of eyes focused on me, looking for answers. "As the Dark Lord Resurrected hasn't fully re-awakened, it could simply mean that the Evil couldn't yet determine which of you should be Good's champion, The Chosen One, and thus attacked you all. Or perhaps, this time, it means that the title of Chosen One has been split amongst all here. Honestly, time will tell." Feeling satisfied with my explanation, the children began gathering the injured (myself) and we walked back to the cabin to recover.

We walked in silence, broken only by Isaac's boasts and Luther's complaints, and in that time I contemplated my lie. Of the children, I believed only Ella or David might see the truth - the lie behind the Chosen One. Evil, when it strikes, never chooses just one life to ruin, and it's the many that will eventually stand against it and shout, "No More!" The Chosen One is simply the last one standing after the others have given their lives for justice. Today, Evil sought to destroy them all, and in the future, it very well may, except for the one that, shielded and bolstered by their fallen comrades, delivers the final blow.

I really didn't want to do this [gestures at entire story] this whole thing. Using the Reddit Writing Prompt "You're confronted by all the kids you told were the Chosen One, and now they want the truth" or something like that. Originally, this was just going to be a short talking piece, a bit preachy on the Good vs Evil concept, and what a "Chosen One" actually is, but writing a story with just people talking is boring. Okay, maybe it isn't (there's lots of stories that are just great dialogue) but the way I write it would be. I took a break thinking about just leaving behind what I'd written and going on to something else (so many other things) then the idea of "Hey how about adding a monster, show why they could ALL be Chosen Ones" and my brain just ran with that until we ended up here. I didn't mean to, I just wanted it done so I could get to other stuff.

Anyways, here we are. As usual, I had a hard time with names of characters, and for this one I needed a bunch of them. I ended up using some random medieval name generator online for the final names though in the draft it was Eyes for Ella, Hunter for Hugh, Lucky for Luther, Talk for David, and Nature for Fiora, the rest I either already had the name or I left it blank. As you might be able to tell toward the end (where I started to care less) I wanted this done so I didn't even include how Nathaniel and Isaac took down their two wolves, and Isaac's character would've definitely boasted about it. Just based on word count I also would've normally split something this long into three parts (keeping each part just long enough for you to read comfortably while taking a shit) but, as I already mentioned, I didn't care anymore. Plus, releasing part one on Thursday would mean part three releasing on Saturday, Sunday, or Monday and no way I'm going to hold onto this for that long. 

As another post-story note, I actually finished most of this last week (I think up to Ella's last question to the wizard about Chosen Ones) and then completed by Monday. I just didn't have the time to type it all out (typing is boring). Why is that worth mentioning? So I was hanging out with some friends on Wednesday when this blog was brought up ("Alan writes short stories and stuff"), and whenever it's mentioned (or just my writing hobby in general) I end up a little self-conscious about the whole thing. Oh shit, people know that I do this/ remember that I do this, and now I need to produce something soon or I'll look like a fraud though rushing it makes it look like trash which is on brand so I guess that's fine (Have I mentioned yet that you should really be doing something else? How did you even make it this far?). So I'd already been working on this story for a couple of weeks already, and just happened to finish and finalize it write after I was talking about it, making it look like I do this all the time (which, no, that's insane). If for some dumb reason you read through all of that (again, why?) and decide, this is what I need more of in my life, more trash stories, then get ready for disappointment because it'll again probably be a while until anything new comes out.

The Chosen Ones part 1

Entering the forest clearing, I saw the scuffle outside the charcoal-maker's house. Boys, I thought wiping the journey's sweat from my brow, expecting to find Nathaniel and his brothers in one of their usual arguments. Instead, to my surprise, it was Nathaniel and Isaac, a boy who lived two towns to the west grappling in the dirt, each trying to get the upper hand on the other. In a loose circle around the two stood ten other children, all around the same age, watching the fight: some shouting for the two to stop; some shouting encouragement for one of the boys or the other. Through the windows, I spotted Nathaniel's brothers and sister watching fearfully, suspicious of the strange kids outside their home. One of Nathaniel's younger brothers, Thomas, spotted me and started pointing, tugging at the sleeve of his older brother.

Shaking my head at the scene, I unwound a length of cord from my forearm, whispered a single Word of Power into it, and tossed it atop the two entangled bodies. Small runes along the length of the rope glowed orange as it landed across the two children. Each end of the rope snared a wrist on each of the boys, magically twisting, expanding, and entangling each of the boys' limbs until neither could move against the other.

One of the children turned, Ella, a candle-maker's daughter, surprise and embarrassment on her face. "Master Trovanos, we didn't expect you here," she said, her eyes going to her shoes digging in the dirt while a finger twanged the string of the bow on her shoulder.

I shook my head, my glare meeting each of the kids' gaze until they lowered their heads. I walked through the circle, passed the two trapped but struggling boys until I got to the house's window. "Thomas, would you please tell me what's happening here?" I asked the ten year old.

"Master Trovanos, we were just playing, watching Nathaniel practice his magic when those other kids appeared through the trees. They said that you lied to Nathaniel, lied to all of them, lied that they were each the Chosen One. Nathaniel told them that you were training him in magic, that he was the Chosen One, and to leave but they wouldn't. Nathaniel tried to cast a spell, but the bigger kid tackled him and the two of them started fighting." I nodded as Thomas huffed to catch his breath after his quick recounting of the events.

Seeing that the two boys had stopped struggling, I snapped my fingers and the rope went slack. Slowly, Nathaniel and Isaac untangled themselves. Once free, Nathaniel began to spool the rope the length of his forearm around his palm and elbow before returning it back to me. "Master, they say that I'm not the real Chosen One. That you've been telling us all lies. Say it isn't true," Nathaniel said. Though his face appeared stern, his eyes and the tear starting to form betrayed that he must already suspect what my answer to be.

I took the rope and watched it shrink tight around my arm. "Of course they're right," I said watching the young boy deflate, his shoulders and head drooping. Looking around, I saw the same attitude spreading amongst the rest of my pupils. I placed a hand on Nathaniel's shoulder. "I saw in each of you a unique gift or talent or skill to train and hone in case the forces of Evil, or even the Dark Lord Resurrected himself, chooses one of you as their opponent. For it is the Evil which chooses its own demise."

I scanned and saw unbelief and skepticism on the children's faces. "Take Isaac here. He's a giant compared to other boys his age, and he'll only get bigger and stronger. Isaac, if the Dark Lord Resurrected chose you as his or her opposition, what would you do? How would you fight back against the destruction he would wrought upon our lands?"

Isaac grinned, pounding an enormous fist for a sixteen year old into his palm. The bruiser, the boy stood just over six feet tall and weighed over 200 pounds of muscle, and still showed no signs of slowing down. How Nathaniel's lean frame survived even a minute against the bigger boy meant Isaac had either finally learned some restraint, or Nathaniel was a faster study than I had first believed, picking up on spells and casting faster than an apprentice of just a few months should have. "Along with anyone brave enough to stand with me, I'd lead a charge on horseback against whatever army the Dark Lord Resurrected could muster together, smashing through them with lance and spear and axe and sword until I was finally face-to-face with the scourge itself. Then we would have a showdown where I'd win with the strength of my own arm and the determination of my spirit."

I smiled, nodding. The exact answer I knew you'd give, I thought as I looked to the rest of the children wearing mostly quizzical faces. "Except, Isaac, what if the Dark Lord Resurrected isn't someone or something you could just punch your way through?" I asked, gesturing at David and Fiora. 

David spoke first, straightening his ruffled coat. "If it was someone you couldn't punch?" he said, repeating my question to himself. "Perhaps royalty or a religious leader or someone with exceptional charisma. All people that you won't be able to get close enough to, or even if you could, the people would turn on you the moment you assassinated them. No, if you're going to kill one of these types you'll first need to organize a campaign to tarnish their image until the people no longer support them. Then you can remove them from power, or even let the people do it for you if you can stoke their rage hot enough."

"Talk, talk, talk. If anyone gets between me and the Dark Lord Resurrected, I'll just kill them too," replied Isaac.

"Oaf," growled David, "You can't just go around killing everyone in your way. Besides, they could be innocent, tricked into following the Dark Lord Resurrected. If you don't expose his evil first, the people will just think you're there to murder their leader, or worse, commit treason and regicide."

"Yeah, and how about I start with you?" said Isaac, clearly flustered as he grabbed David by the lapels.

"Boys," I said sternly, tapping my staff into the packed dirt. Isaac reluctantly released David who immediately again straightened out his clothes. I motioned for Fiora to continue.

Fiora turned in a circle, eyes looking from the sky to the grass to the woods to the mountains and everywhere inbetween. "Something you can't punch? Well, maybe that means that the Dark Lord Resurrected is simply a creature too big for you to hit?" Fiora stopped turning and stood statue-still. Slowly she raised her left hand, extending a single finger as she did so. Once her arm raised to shoulder-height, a single dragonfly sipped over and landed on her finger. "If the creature is too big for a human to tackle, whether a dragon or a wyvern or a leviathan, you'll need to consult with nature to find the thing to bring the creature low." Just as she finished speaking a large, brown-haired tarantula sprung from inside her long coat sleeve and snatched the dragonfly, pinning it to Fiora's palm. "Nature knows how to humble us all," she concluded, eyes transfixed on the spider and its prey.

I nodded. "Very good. As I said earlier, each of you has a unique gift that would make you a dangerous foe to the Dark Lord Resurrected, who or whatever it might be when eventually the Darkness returns its champion to our realms. I can only hope that whomever it chooses as the Chosen One to stand against it, I have trained you well enough to hold your own against the evil."

A cold wind gusted through the clearing, much colder than it should ever be at this time of the year. The world appeared to darken, the sunlight dimming ever so slightly, as if a god had perhaps dropped a thin cloth upon the sun for just a moment. A single howl cut through the silence like a cleaver, shaking all of us to our core. Then came the growls from creatures still hidden in the shadows of the forest.

"Thank you for bringing all of these potential adversaries together in one place, Master Trovanos. The future Dark Lord Resurrected thanks you for your stupidity, old man," the psychic voice said, its words leaving a film of slime upon my brain. Six pairs of red eyes appeared glowing in the darkness encircling the charcoal-maker's house. Then crept six wolves, saliva dripping from their jaws.

I let out a sigh of relief as I tightened the grip on my staff. "Just six little dogs come to play. Almost a dozen potential enemies gathered and that's all the Dark Lord Resurrected deems necessary to cut them down and secure his future reign. Either this enemy isn't too smart, or isn't strong enough yet to send at least a competent minion to do its bidding," I said, full of bravado hoping to ease the children's fears for though we might outnumber the enemy two-to-one a pack of wolves were still dangerous and none of my apprentices were yet fully trained.

A Roar! shook leaves from trees and sent a terror coursing through me. A shadow moved, stalking, encircling the clearing, barely visible, until it finally stepped into the light. A giant of a wolf, as tall as the house at its shoulders, towering over all of us. Grey fur streaked with black, saliva glistening, dripping off of its fangs. Its piercing red eyes though is where the true horror lay, eyes that held my gaze; eyes filled with a hate deep and pure as if my very existence was an insult needing to be ripped, torn from this world.

"Very observant, fur-less one. The Dark Lord Resurrected has yet to return but I, Kreterack, the Wolf-God, and my kin shall yet secure their rule by eliminating any who may stand against. A final lesson for your students: observations will not protect you from fangs and claws." The Wolf-God growled, its voice psychically seeping into our minds. The six smaller wolves copied the larger one, growling and salivating, though standing their ground, waiting for orders.

Before the pack could converge any closer, I ordered all of the smaller children into the house. "Isaac and Nathaniel stay with them." Grabbing Nathaniel, I said, "Focus on the basics. Just keep the wolves away from the kids. Also give Isaac an axe. I don't want him trying to punch wolves." As the two boys followed the five smaller kids, I looked at the ones left. "Ella, Hugh, and Luther will handle the pack. Keep them in the clearing and watch their movements. David and Fiora, you two keep the big one distracted in the forest. We'll come to assist once we're through here." Three of the kids came to stand next to me while David and Fiora sprinted passed and into the woods, followed closely by the giant wolf, seeking to ensure none escaped.

The smaller kids secure behind walls with our strongest arm and an apprentice magician, and the largest and most dangerous enemy distracted by our fastest and most distracting, I focused my attention on the six wolves stalking closer, encircling us. For the second time today, I began unraveling the rope from my arm when an elbow nudged me in the ribs. Looking down, my eyes immediately focused on Hugh's head of long, unruly red hair. An odd sight to see as he usually pulled the hood of his hunting cloak over his head to conceal himself from his prey. The elbow nudged me again as the fingers of his other hand touched the handles of each of the knives on his belt. The other two kids had formed the remainder of a triangle around me. He wants to be seen, I thought, staring at the salivating wolves, wants to be tracked. A step at a time, I moved and the children followed in formation, until the elbows stopped. We stood in a spot of no discernible difference to me than before except we were now about fifteen feet further from where we started.

"Stay together for now," said Ella as she notched an arrow in her bow, "They're scouting us, trying to find an opening to bring down the weakest first." Her eyes, a piercing green that seemed to stare right into you, glared at Luther for a moment before going back to the wolves.

Luther, who managed to pick-up a fallen branch off the ground, trembled. "Hey, I saw that. Why'd you look at me? Maybe they want the old liar instead?" he blurted out, fear filling his eyes.

"No, it's you they want," Hugh said, quiet and sure, his fingers dancing along the knives at his belt. "The Wolf-God knows Master Trovanos is a wizard, old and frail as he may seem. But you. They can smell the fear coursing through you."

"Well fuck this then," said Luther, throwing his branch over the heads of the wolves and outside their circle. "Hey, I surrender, okay? Call the big dog back and he can have the old man. I don't even know why I'm here. I'm not good at anything. I think this has all been just a big misunderstanding. " He raised his arms in the air and began walking toward the nearest wolf, perhaps hoping that it just might let him walk free.

Hugh tossed a knife at the wolf, burying it in the dirt as the wolf jumped backwards at the last moment. "You idiot, get back here now!" he growled, pulling the hood of his dirt-colored coat over his head with one hand, and freeing a hatchet from inside with the other.

"Behind you," said Ella. Eyes that saw everything paired with a mind for analysis, the archer put an arrow into the wolf lunging at Hugh's back. A little high, striking the wolf in the shoulder, but still remarkable for someone who had never pulled a bowstring until just a couple months ago.

As the wolf tumbled into the dirt, injured but not dead, another took advantage of the distraction and sprinted from their wheel toward Ella. Just as it got within range to lunge however, Hugh ducked down, his hand disappearing into a pile of leaves that just happened to be clumped at his feet. When he rose, it was with a length of rope which he yanked taut. My eyes tracked the rope quickly exposing itself like a striking serpent. The noose at the end caught a paw of the charging wolf, and jerked it off-balance. Splayed briefly on the ground and defenseless, it was enough time for even an amateur archer to hit their mark, and Ella took full advantage of the situation, this time putting an arrow through the wolf's eye.

One enemy dead, I watched three others continue to circle, now a bit more hesitant. No, I spun, taking count again. One with an arrow in its back, two others uninjured. Two of them must've used the brief sortie to break from the pack. But were they after the smaller children, or going to help the Wolf-God? My question was answered by Nathaniel's brief shout and Isaac's booming voice.

"How do you see their next attack?" I asked Ella, the enchanted rope still in my hand.

"Not sure," she said, a new arrow notched on the string as her eyes watched the wolves continue to circle. "Typically wolves would've run off for weaker prey by now. The Dark Lord Resurrected and the Wolf-God must have some command over them."

"How about some killing magic, or a fireball, wizard-man?" said Luther, unarmed and spinning in circles so fast I was surprised he didn't fall over, or puke himself.

"As you said earlier, I'm an old man. I simply can't weave magic together as quick as before, and I never expected the Dark Lord Resurrected would strike so soon or against so many at once," I said.

A howl erupted from the woods, sending birds scattering into the air and a shiver down my spine. The Wolf-God hunting its prey, or perhaps signaling he caught them. A corresponding howl went up near the house, just out of sight, though it was quickly followed by another of Isaac's shouts.

"They're striking now, all three of them at once," Ella said, pulling back the bowstring. "The Wolf-God calls on them, and so they'll strike. Definitely against Master Trovanos because he's the oldest, and Luther because he smells of fear and piss. I'd expect the third to come after me because Hugh is obviously bigger, but they've seen me kill one and injure another, so they might consider me the bigger threat. Take down three, then focus on the remaining."

I felt a hand grip my shoulder and start to turn me following the wolves' rotation. "Keep an eye on them," said Hugh quietly for just us to hear with one hand on my shoulder and another on Luther's, "We'll make our own wheel. If the three of you can take down the two healthy wolves, I can handle the injured one on my own. Just make sure I'm in front of it when they strike."

Books of 2022: Quarter 1

The start of this year's reading list

 

Locke and Key by Joe Hill and illustrated by Gabriel Rodriguez

Following the murder of their father, the Locke family moves to their father's childhood home of Key House. There the Locke children, Tyler, Kinsey, and Bode, discover mysterious keys each with their own unique, magical properties: a key that can transport a person anywhere in the world, a key that can let you into anyone's head, a key that can let you fly. So many possibilities, all of them hidden throughout the property. Also lurking around the house though is a hidden and dangerous enemy seeking to take the keys for their own gain.

A haunting story spanning six collected volumes (roughly 5 or 6 comic issues in each, I think), Locke and Key follows the three Locke children as they discover magical keys hidden throughout their house and protect them from the monster seeking to collect them too. At the time I picked up the first volume, I didn't know about the Netflix series adaptation because, well at the time I didn't have access to Netflix. Then, like a lot more books than I'd like to admit, it ended up buried under a pile of other books and papers until I recently found it again. By that time I'd already finished season one of the Netflix series. Then, I fell off of watching the show (still haven't gotten back to it yet, there's so many other shows) but managed to pick up the rest of the volumes (Vol 2 from Book-Off, and Vol 3-6 from Other Realms where the cashier was thrilled I was taking their entire stock from the shelves), and finished them. The comics and the show differ from the start (if that's a deal-breaker for you) but so far I enjoyed both. I am hoping the show ends differently than the comic series though because that one got really dark.

 

How to Fight Presidents by Daniel O'Brien

In the Introduction: "That's what you're reading right now. The most interesting, exciting, bizarre, or otherwise badass facts about every great psychopath who has ever stood on top of Mount America and declared himself its protector, and how you might be able to use these fact to your advantage, should you happen to, I don't know, travel back in time to find yourself face to face with a president you angered somehow."

 In a fight with George Washington: "He would return from many battles unscathed but with bullet holes in his clothing ... so many times that George Washington admitted on more than one occasion that he could not be killed in battle."

A quick, funny, sort-of biographical look into 38 presidents who lead the United States of America (from George Washington to Ronald Reagan, not sure why some were skipped), ... and if you could beat them in a fight. Each chapter is dedicated to a brief look into the life of a president: his background, his character, his achievements, etc; followed by how to win a fight if you happen to go toe-to-toe with him for whatever reason (spoiler: there's some presidents that you just won't win a fight against).

I bought this book a long, long time ago, probably back when I still browsed Cracked.com at least once a day. I'm even pretty certain that's where I first saw this book advertised. For this particular read through, I started reading toward the end of December, deciding to finally give it another re-read as it's one of the funniest books I own (and I just wanted a laugh to end the year as, at the time, I was still under quarantine from COVID). Humorous and educational (I guess), it's definitely something I'd recommend reading if you want to laugh while also learning some facts about our presidents.

 

Failure by J.L Westover

A collection of comic strips by J.L. Westover chronicling glorious moments of failure to make you laugh in a "Hahahaha... aww fuck, that's me/ could be me" kind of way.

Just something to skim through and laugh at while at home when I was taking the Locke and Key comics to work to read during my lunch breaks. I ended up getting this through a Kickstarter fundraiser after someone shared it on Facebook way, way back. So far back, in fact, that when it was finally charged, I was scrambling through all my purchases to figure out where the money was going. Then came the printing delay and shipping delay alert emails until the book eventually arrived (along with a brand-new mug).

The Affair by Lee Child

"He said, 'Is there a reason I don't get out of this truck and kick your butt?'
I said, 'Two hundred and six reasons.'
He said, 'What?'
'That's how many bones you got in your body. I could break them all before you put a glove on me.'"

"He was a warrior. I wasn't. I was a brawler. He lived for the tactical victory. I lived to piss on the other guy's grave. Not the same thing. Not the same thing at all."

It's 1997 and Jack Reacher is still with the Special Investigators in the US Army. He's sent undercover to a base town in Mississippi to help the Army in its investigation of a young woman murdered and dumped in an alley. The local police suspect a soldier while the Army tries to pin the killing on a civilian. Reacher is unfortunately discovered immediately by the local police chief and former marine. She decides to keep Reacher on-hand, using his skills to solve the murder, as well as uncover a conspiracy and other hidden crimes.

Again, I don't know what to say about these books having gone through so, so many others (no, I'm not going back to count this time). If for some reason you read about me reading books and are wondering where my review of the previous book is, well, I didn't read it yet. Shocking, I know, as this means I've started to read them out of the order they were published (something I thought I wouldn't do). If you need to know, Barnes and Nobles was missing the previous book the last time I was there ... and I really needed the fix. So, as this one (and one other one) are technically prequels to the "Jack Reacher, drifter" character that we know, I figured there was no harm jumping ahead a bit (don't worry, I did manage to pick up the previous one just recently from Amazon and I've jumped it up my reading list).

Another thing that I also want to note (sort-of spoiler) is that this book starts off the "Jack Reacher, drifter" character. After x number of books (I told you, I wasn't going back to count), we finally have that reason for Reacher's separation from the Army and the start of his travels with nothing but a toothbrush and the clothes on his back.

Haunted by Chuck Palahniuk

"But the stories you can digest, that you can tell - you can take control of those past moments. You can shape them, craft them. Master them. And use them to your own good.
Those are stories as important as food.
Those are stories you can use to make people laugh or cry or sick. Or scared. ...
It's how we can eat all the shit that happens."

Replying to an advertisement for an exclusive and secluded writer's retreat, eighteen individuals are instead put into a Survivor-like situation as they find their supplies dwindling and conditions worsening, their captor forcing them to write their stories for his own enjoyment ... And that's sort-of the twisted plot of this whole thing, collections of haunting short stories and poems tied together by a kidnapping frame work.

I'm honestly not sure why I bought this book in the first place. Maybe it was around October/ November and I was looking for something spooky to read. Maybe I was interested because it was a Palahniuk novel. I don't remember. I know I got it about three batches of books ago and just left it, putting it aside again and again to read other stuff until I finally did read it. And what a fucking read it was, and I was completely wrong about what kind of story it would be. It isn't quite a horror story in the traditional monster-sense but "shock-value" stories set in the real world that haunt you long after you've closed the book. (sorry, I don't think anyone actually reads these things, but if you do, it's going to be long and full of spoilers). To be honest, I almost didn't finish it just because of the first short story "Guts". Holy fucking shit, what a ride that one was. Only 10 pages long and I still had a time getting through it especially since I do most of my reading these days at work during my lunch hour. There's an afterword where Palahniuk states that when he did live readings of this story, people would actually faint during this story. It's ... holy shit ... it's a lot, and it's just the first story of the 23. I literally had to limit my reading to either my lunch hour at work or a brief window of time at home several hours before I went to bed because reading it any closer to bed time would just leave me and my thoughts with these horrible and haunting stories. To me, it was the hardest of them all to get through. If you followed the link, you know what it's about. Other stories include a rich couple that finds thrills in pretending to be homeless until one night they witness a murder and the husband is later killed; a knife review written by a murder as blackmail against the company that manufactures those same great knives; the fear that grips a city when a believed supernatural entity goes on a killing spree ... which the killer is hinted at being a bowling ball simply dropped from a high enough roof.

Battlegrounds by Jim Butcher

 "That destruction on this scale simply could not be brushed under the rug, that this many witnesses could not be silenced. Whatever happened in the battle, whoever prevailed, one fact was clear.
Things were going to change.
The mortal world couldn't take something like this in stride."

Obviously the negotiations between the Accorded Nations and the Fomor did not go well, and the Fomor, led by the last Titan, have declared war. With his city of Chicago under siege, Harry Dresden, his friends, and anyone else that can be mustered together will face off against the nightmares once forgotten to the civilized world. One of the most epic battles in the entire "Dresden Files" series, Dresden and company will have to use all their strengths and every trick they have to take down and army led by a monster older than humanity.

Following the "Halo 2" ending of Peace Talks, Battlegrounds in its entirety is simply one giant battle between the Accorded Nations (The Winter and Summer Faerie Courts, The White Council of Wizards, The White Court Vampires, Baron Marcone, etc) and the Fomor army along with other monsters that humanity had driven into hiding such as the Black Court Vampires and the Jotum giants. Obviously, as with any epic fight scene, Butcher pulls out all the stops, allowing each of his characters to unleash the full might of their powers against the other as they all fight to the death. It's a High Fantasy, swords-and-sorcery armies clashing together in modern day Chicago complete with spears and shields and magic and shotguns. Of course, the constant action of fight scene after fight scene needs to be slown down at times for pacing and so your brain isn't continuously bombarded by images of violence and death, and Butcher does a great job of this too with Dresden's reflections and full-stop descriptions of the scene. And, of course, with so much happening, at several spots I needed to stop and re-read, then re-read again what I just read because, well, what-the-fuck just happened. In the aftermath (spoilers ... whatever, you don't care) the Fomor are driven back and a new enemy reveals itself, and the city (and humanity in general) is left coming to terms with the reality that monsters are real, the conclusion promises more to come, perhaps soon the big conclusion trilogy Butcher hinted at in several interviews.