RED EPIC

He had started as a little speck. For a while, it had changed into a piece of mud, then a mess of long limbs and eyes. Now it was a small child with long and delicate hands.

He ran through the green woods, dancing between the trees. There was a vicious tiger to the north and a lion to the south. He had learned how to dodge them, playing with them like he was the cat and they the mouse, but now it was boring—too easy to dodge, and he knew all the woods too.

Crunch! He ate a grape from one of the vines. The Man in the sky had permitted him to eat of any tree in the green woods.

Not the fruits of the tree by the stream, though, he told himself.

I'm sick of the Man in the sky. And his dumb rules.

But he went and dove into the stream anyway, and under the small bridge in the garden, heading towards the center of the woods.

He avoided the sitting ducks by the pond; he had tried playing with them because when he did play with the ducks for too long, he turned into a fish, which he didn't like.

Then he'd be crushed by the ducks in an exaggerated blot of gore oozing out from under the pond.

Now, though, he had mastered the skill of flying through the water like a flying fish and diving back down to escape the ducks.

At the last step, he flew and landed, and when he came to, he was standing on solid rock.

A Giant tree was by the stream, and behind him, all the animals had gathered in a procession. As if waiting to witness something marvelous.

And the Man in the sky descended himself, leaning his chin in his hands, looking at him.

"There is only one rule!" said the Man from the Sky, as he always did. 

He pointed to the tree by the stream.

"You may eat of anything in the greenwoods, except the fruits of that tree, of course."

"What would happen if I do?" asked the boy.

"Ye shall not eat of it, neither shall ye touch it, lest ye die," said the Man from the Sky.

And then he turned and leaped back into the Sky.

The boy stood there for a while, unsure of what to do.

Then a worm with a face in the likeness of man crawled up and spoke.

"The Man in the Sky is greedy. He has his plans. Do not trust him. Eat of the left fruit, and you shall be as wise as he. Eat of the right fruit, and you shall be as powerful as he is."

And the boy, tempted, took the left fruit and ate it.

"What have ye done!!!" the Man in the Sky screamed!

"Leave!" he roared, and the hurricanes stirred.

"Leave now before-"

The boy could scarcely make out what he was saying.

"Leave!"

Ulysses nearly screamed when he was suddenly woken by someone.

He sat upright and looked around, lost. His memory was still frozen at the scene with the withered man and the infusion of blood…and and and the screaming torment he felt.

Everything after that felt like a sleepless dream.

Ulysses instinctively lowered his head and checked his body for any bruises or cuts, and found none. He even began kicking his feet to make sure they weren't paralyzed.

Bang! Someone whacked something hard on his head.

"Ack!" Ulysses looked up.

He saw a policeman wielding a baton. He only had a single chevron on his epaulet, the lowest-ranking police constable…

"Leave the parks."

Ulysses glanced at him to ascertain his identity.

The policeman said fiercely, "You can't sleep here!"

"These streets and parks aren't for you, lazy, jobless vagrants to sleep in!"

Ulysses froze. He didn't argue with the policeman.

He grabbed his bag and left the park.

The city was quiet, covered in the white blanket of snow.

"Huh?"

There was a rustle of leaves, and an owl and dove danced in the air, wrestling prey from one another.

The Orange electrical lights of the street lamps were beautifully complementing, and there wasn't a soul outside for miles around.

He jumped the fence to the apartment building and crept around the back until his hands found the remains of a metallic ladder.

He reached with his hand and grabbed the drainpipe, fingers slipping on wet metal, and began climbing.

Using the metal rods and knobs as footholds and handholds felt nostalgic. He hadn't done this in a long while.

He made sure not to wake any neighbors or catch their attention, shifting from side to side till he reached the fourth floor.

He was outside the dining room window. The pale blue light of the TV set reflected from inside.

There was an image on the screen.

A wrecked plane, torn to shreds, some of the pieces were covered in red with blood, others blackened with soot. The running text on the bottom read.

'Rogue Beholder attack above the streets of Hold-52: 127 dead, 52 survivors. Two suspects apprehended, one on the loose.'

It was the air crash that happened a few days ago.

He spent some minutes there, looking, until he finally noticed a small red dot inside. It came from a figure sitting on a recliner, facing the television set.

It floated in the darkness, slightly shifting, and then was gone.

Someone was smoking in the living room. It didn't take a genius to know who it was.

I got to go before he–but Ulysses' thoughts were cut short when he heard a grunt and a human growl from the window.

Then a human silhouette rose from the recliner in the sitting room. The one that someone was smoking in earlier.

"Who's there? Who's outside my window?" Silas' voice was still terrifyingly recognizable.

Ulysses panicked; he didn't want to get caught. He tried reaching for another handhold, but his hand slipped and he lost his footing.

He panicked even more now, and put one foot on the wall, and He felt something slowly uncoiling in his mind.

Then he spread it through his body, enveloping it. It felt like water streaming down his skin, then it solidified in his hand and—

"Ack!"

Huh? He was hanging by the side of the building with one hand clutching a…. Clutching a crude dagger?

It was buried inside an old air conditioning unit.

Click! He heard the dining window open and a struggle and a curse.

He wasted no time reaching out and grabbing at another metallic railing.

His fingers found it fitting easily as he pulled himself on top of the unit.

Then he crouched on the old air conditioning unit.

"Damnation; cold wind's playing tricks on me," Silas grunted and closed the window. Click! He locked it.

Ulysses stayed there, on the old air conditioning unit. As silent as the night.

The icy winds were wicked and terrible up there.

After a while, he judged it was right to move. And made his way to his room window.

It was locked shut.

Click

Then he managed to pick the lock with the dagger.

He opened the window and quickly crawled inside before locking it quietly.