ETTING 
OME 
O 
LFANDRA
Athagon's Story part 9
ETTING OME O LFANDRA
*Athagon awoke. Once again, he had been
thrown to another program. And this one wasn't nice either.
He stood on a dirt road, surrounded by lightly yellow tinted turf, flat,
plain, except for a few odd features. A few scattered trees, all
of which were dead, had the skeletons of dead birds hanging over their
branches. Oddly enough, the trees were a sick pink color. Oh
yes, the road was a dark blue. To his right, a rickety, broken sign
read "Despair". To his left, nothing except a rock. A sharp,
jagged, pointed, cracked rock. Athagon looked up, hoping to see something
less depressing and strange, but to his great sadness, that was not to
be the case. Brown sky met his eyes, mixed with swirling green clouds.
Apparently this was a world of insanity and drunken cruelty. And
then, he was not alone. A large rat, teeth replaced with vampire
fangs, long tail slightly rotted, fur matted and full of lice, approached.
He stood several feet high, and several feet long. Athagon didn't
like him. The rat continued until he was a few feet away, then stopped
and grinned, revealing other teeth which were rotted and covered in dry
blood*
"Come on then, we will be late if we don't get
there in time. Time, time, time. TIME! We have all the
time in the world, no rush, no hurry." *He stopped, foul nose twitching,
purple tinted eyes rolling slightly*
"We'll be late if you don't hurry, you know.
No time, no time. We have no time. Come on, let's go.
Why don't you move? We have plenty of time, no worries, no worries.
No hurries. Hurrying makes it harder to catch, you know." *He
smiled, a sickly sight*
"And who are you, thing? You aren't from
here"
Excuse me kind sir, but where is the nearest town?
*He cackled, a cruel sound*
"Never Never Land, of course."
Thank you. And how do you get there?
"You must run, of course. The faster you run the slower you go, so run slowly to go quickly. It all makes sense, you know. But we don't have the time to argue, come with me"
*The rat began to run, thin brittle claws scrabbling on the dirt road. And, oddly enough, he was right. The faster he ran, the slower he went. Athagon, sighing, hoping to get out someday, followed, trotting along...*