Mortuus walked through the forest, smoking cannabis as he walked. Each puff seemed to lift his heavy heart.
The night around him was so silent that he could hear the THC oil heating in the cartridge. The only other light than his pen was the moon's glare. It was a beautiful night, with a crisp, calm wind blowing through the trees and the hum of cicadas around him.
He took another draw, coughing on the cannabis vapor. By the time he stepped onto the path of the bunker, Mortuus was higher than Woodstock. He liked it that way. At least when high, he didn't have to hear the voices in his head screaming that he was worthless.
He stumbled to the door of his room and fell onto the bed. He could hear the dull, steady beat of his heart. Listening closer, he could just barely hear the sound of each valve opening and closing, the blood pumping through each vein.
Time seemed to slow as he lay there; time always slowed when he smoked cannabis. But this time, the high feeling felt distant and cold, almost like he was seeing it from the outside instead of being the one getting high.
Mortuus felt something was wrong, like something was missing. He stood and walked out into the hall. "What could possibly be wrong?" he wondered.
As he wandered, he began feeling himself again, like he was there for the very first time. His limbs felt heavy yet light, as if being lifted by gusts of air. He looked down at his pocket, the orb glowing from inside.
He took it out and rolled it in his hands. Each time the orb touched his palm, a small shock wave was emitted on its surface like the ripples of a stone being thrown in still water. Whatever the orb was, it seemed to be responsive to its surroundings.
Mortuus wandered the bunker halls, looking for something to tell him about the orb. "What is this doohickey?" He pondered, his pen hanging loosely in his mangled mouth. His mind flashed back to the millions of koi as he held it. "So you can reproduce?" The orb pulsed with light as if agreeing with Mortuus's question.
He shook his head in disbelief. It wasn't possible for it to respond to him, but then again, he had seen it go from a fish to a crystal heart and now to an orb, so its response wasn't too crazy. As Mortuus looked at the orb, he suddenly remembered something he had in his pocket.
He reached into the pocket, his face contorting in confusion as he clasped his hand around an empty chocolate bar wrapper. He pulled it out. "My... My chocolate..." Mortuus murmured sadly. His mind wasn't always the most clear, but he knew for sure he still had chocolate left.
Even after he abore the Cave of Souls, he still didn't understand the orb. But Mortuus knew there had to be something about this, whatever it was. Clearly, this thing had managed to consume his chocolate, as crazy as it sounded.
Mortuus inhaled the pen intensely and held his breath before billowing smoke out through his nose in rhythmic timings. Cautiously, he stepped into the main room of the bunker. His heavy boots loudly made contact with the tiles.
"Please don't come back. Please leave me alone." Mortuus mumbled under his breath. It wasn't uncommon for the souls of the dead to torment him. Or at least what he thought were the souls. It was more likely the "souls" were just another hallucination.
He just hoped Mordecai wasn't going to come back. As much as he needed the answers from his once friend, he didn't want his soul to return. Best to save this for another time, he thought. He shoved the orb back into his trenchcoat pocket.
"This isn't living." Mortuus would always tell anyone who asked what it was like to be brought back from the dead. And in all truth, he was right. Mortuus wasn't exactly alive. Maybe that was why he could interact with souls. He neared a glass case, the one that he awoke in.
Mortuus touched his hand to the glass, his breath fogging it up. It wasn't too long ago that he was submerged in freezing in that tank. The memory of waking up, scared and confused, was still so vivid. As he looked at the pane, a glint caught his eye.
Mortuus turned around and noticed what looked like a card under the desk. It was an old dust-covered ID card. He bent down and carefully picked it up like a snake that could bite him at any moment.
"Peter Jacob Morgan," Mortuus read the card aloud. He stared down at the card. A mixture of irritation, contempt, and sorrow washed over him as he stared into his own eyes. At one point, a small plastic slip held his entire past, but now it was an empty sign- a sign of what he had lost.
"I was here all along."
As Mortuus looked at the card, a tear trickled down his cheek and splashed onto the card. In his heart, he knew this wasn't the end, but this was why he was here. Had he just looked down that day he awoke, he would never have gone through all that horrid self-hatred.
"This was my end goal, Death." Mortuus spoke to the spirit in the corner as he continued looking at the card. He didn't need to look up to know that he was watching him.
"You are the holder of your own end, Mortuus." Death said while balancing his scythe on his lithe finger. "Your decision will tip the scale of your destiny- Choose a side wisely."
Mortuus turned to ask him what he meant, but Death had vanished as if he was never there. And maybe he wasn't. "As usual, you're cryptic like a fucking fae, Death. You fairy bitch." Mortuus begrudgingly joked, slightly annoyed.58Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaXp7TZwSqS
