Story Blog by Annika Bajaj

The doorbell rang, startling him out of his reminiscing. "What do you want, Caroline?" he snapped. His girlfriend was the only person who ever stopped by, and that only to get food or clothes.

William swore. He had forgotten - no, had refused - to go to any of his appointments in the past month. "Coming!" he called, then rushed upstairs and locked himself in the bathroom.

William's heart began to beat faster. What was he going to do? What if his girlfriend came home: would she recognize Paula? And if she did, would she force him to see her? That was another one of Caroline's worst points: she always thought she knew what was best for him. She was the one who drove him to depression in the first place, with her sarcasm and her crude humor. If only he’d seen her true self earlier. She had made sure he would never be able to forget the fact that he was worthless; a worthless, disgusting excuse for a human being -

Positive thoughts. Positive thoughts, William reminded himself. No negatives. He was a good person. He was a wonderful person. He tried to force the corners of his mouth upwards, but frowned again as there was another loud rap on the door, this one accompanied by shouting. He was a better person than Paula, far better. She didn't deserve to be in the same world as him, much less the same house. How presumptuous of her to just assume he would let her in! Perhaps he should just take that small butter knife on the kitchen table, open the door, and insert it into her long, pale neck. He could almost feel the delicious sensation of penetrating the skin, the warm blood spouting like a geyser from the wound, her dying cry erupting from her lips, her eyes rolling back in her head, his own triumphant smile!

He cursed, wiped the spittle off his lips, and sighed. He sullenly tramped downstairs to the door. Grasping the doorknob firmly, he sighed again, then turned and pulled.

There, standing on the shady porch, was someone who was most definitely not Paula. Someone dressed all in pink. Someone tall, dark, and well-muscled. Someone holding a damp pink handkerchief. William managed to think one last thought before the handkerchief was held to his nose: Pink? What kind of kidnapper wears pink?

A flash of bright light. A shout. William could sense these things, but it was as if he was seeing and hearing them from the bottom of a lake. Everything was distorted and blurred, but William knew that if he could just break through the surface, it would all go back to normal. He strained against whatever bound him in the darkness, and he felt that if he had been able to he would have screamed. But whatever had bound his limbs had bound his lips as well. With a last surge of effort, he felt the invisible bonds break. His eyes opened.

What he saw wasn't supernatural or scary, but it was strange nonetheless. There was a man? a woman? standing directly before him, scowling and muttering under his breath. "Oh, so now he wakes up. Great, just wonderful. Perfect timing. Thanks," the person muttered.

William examined his surroundings, still in a stupor. His torso was bound to a hard, wooden chair by some sort of rope, but his arms were free to move. He was in a small, empty room, facing a blank wall with no windows. The pink-clad kidnapper was looking at him expectantly, as if William was supposed to do a backflip or something.

William groggily raised his hand to his nose and touched it gingerly. There seemed to be some dried blood there, but he felt no pain. "I had nosebleed?" he wondered aloud, his mind too slow for his liking.

"I think that I am a rather intelligent and enlightened individual, sent by the Lord to help you save the world. Of course, it's impossible to know what I really am, without all the sensory details, isn't it? Then I'd just be a ding in sich."

But the person had already started talking. "So, I bet you're curious about what I mean by saving the world" - he wasn't - "so I'll tell you. There's this place called the Gate, and it's guarded, see? And the things that guard it have left, so we have to find them, because otherwise the gate will open and all hell will break loose. Oh, and you're the only person that can do it. So?" Silence. "Well? What do you say?"

William opened his mouth, but no sound came out. What was he supposed to say? Was he actually expected to believe this kidnapper? Just as his lips formed the word "no," a door that he hadn't even seen opened and a hooded woman walked in.

This time William could actually tell their gender: they had long, luscious hair and two bulges on their chest. He sighed in relief. At least there was something he recognized in this strange world.

The woman walked up to the chair he was tied to and bent over, her silky blond hair brushing his face. She smelled of daisies and sweat, a mixture that, though strange, was oddly attractive to William. The woman reached back and pulled off her hood.

William gasped, then blushed. It appeared that what he thought was a woman was actually a man. Now that William could see his face, it was very obvious: the man's features were very masculine, with thick eyebrows, a strong jaw, and a scruffy beard. "Oh- um-" he stuttered.

"What? Did you think he was a girl?” When William merely blushed harder, the person continued incredulously, “Thoom, he thought you were a girl!" They began to laugh hysterically. Thoom merely gave a grunt of amusement, then began to circle William, touching his skin and sniffing his hair. William shuddered as Thoom peered at his face - Thoom's eyes were a deep blue, piercing and bright, and they seemed to cut him down to the bone.

Before William had time to wonder who Meera was, Thoom reentered the room. Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out two small packages and placed them on the ground, far away from the door; that would explain the bulges William had seen. Thoom retreated to the back of the room, and there was silence. The calm before the storm.

"AaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!" a voice screamed. "Thoom! Where are you? I'm going to kill you!" The voice was shrill, nasal, and as piercing as Thoom’s eyes had been; the voice, however, gave William less a sense of being cut and more that of being crushed against a wall by a bulldozer. Was this the Meera the she-man had been talking about?

The door, which had swung shut behind Thoom, was suddenly blown off its hinges, along with much of the wall, revealing two more identical rooms separated by a hallway. A tall silhouette was visible behind the resulting dust cloud. William coughed and wiped his streaming eyes. As the dust cleared, he could tell that this one was most definitely a woman. She was tall and curvy, wearing a black see-through top and poofy skirt. Her boots were covered in silver spikes, and she wore thick eyeliner and black lipstick. Her hair was blonde, like Thoom’s, but had black tips and was shaved off on one side of her head. When she approached William, he could see that her eyes were also a bright blue.

The woman was gone so quickly that William barely saw her move. There was a deafening crash and a grunt of pain, then more screaming. William cringed and cowered lower in his chair. “YOU” - grunt - “EFFING” - grunt - “BASTARD!” came the high-pitched voice of the woman. “How DARE you?” Silence. “How! Dare! You!” More grunts of pain, then a sigh like air being let out of a balloon. “Alright. I’m good now.” The woman entered William’s peripheral vision, and he squealed out an unintelligible plea.

“Ah, I won’t hurt you. Only that idiot back there.” She motioned behind her with a thumb. “You look like I’d kill you with one punch - plus, you’re too valuable to die.” William squealed again, but the woman seemed to understand. “Who am I? I’m Meera. That fool over there is my brother, Thoom, and the other guy is Nuu. Nuu’s the only nice person in this whole troupe - it’s a pity he’s asexual.”

William nodded, his throat too tight to speak. Meera grinned, somehow managing not to show her teeth at all. “You look terrified, hon. What’s wrong?” William didn’t answer.

“Are you scared of me?” she said suddenly, her mouth dropping open as if the concept was entirely new. “Really? Come on. I didn’t hurt him that badly.” With that, she grabbed his chair and yanked him to face Thoom and the she-man. The she-man seemed unhurt, but Thoom was no more than a bloody mess on the ground. William gasped. What had she done to him? Yet, as he watched, Thoom’s body seemed to reassemble from the scattered remains. After the last few bits of skin reattached, he was good as new. William gaped.

The she-man, Nuu, snorted. “Oh, yeah. You guys aren’t scary at all. Right.” Meera’s grin returned and she walked over to Nuu, purposefully treading on Thoom’s toes with her spiked boots as she did so. Nuu and Meera embraced, and she put her head on their shoulder as they tenderly kissed her forehead. Thoom grunted - it seemed to be the only noise he was capable of making - and walked past William, towards the damaged wall. As he passed, William thought he could see a tear on his cheek.

Thoom vaulted over the remains of the wall and beckoned. At first William thought it was absurd - how was he supposed to move if he was tied to a chair? - but then he realized that Thoom was calling Nuu and Meera to his side. The three of them huddled together, just out of William’s earshot, and began to whisper. William was still too much in shock to care what they were saying. He was on the ground - and then - he wasn’t - and then she - His thoughts were disjointed and made no sense, much like his surroundings. It seemed so long ago that he was hiding from Paula in a bathroom. Suddenly, it dawned on him that he didn’t know what time it was, or what day. What would Caroline be thinking? She probably wouldn’t even care, William thought icily, that stuck-up, no-good, b-

“Weakling.” It was Nuu. Anger surged through William, making his face hot and his fists clench. Why did that she-man always pick on him? What had he done to deserve it? The unfairness of his entire situation crashed down on him like a tsunami. He had just wanted a normal day, and instead he’d been kidnapped, whisked away to a strange house, and insulted by a she-man with a love for pink clothes. A scream that had been building up in him since he had woken up in the chair erupted out of him. “SHUT UP! SHUT UP! LEAVE ME ALONE!”