04 April, 2016

Aegri Somnia Vana

Epistemic Status: Fiction
Errata: Changed the title not to be a horrible pun. Check the URL if you're curious.


This isn't over and I'm not dead. I just needed to post something, so here's a little vignette I wrote while bored in class.
P̶l̶e̶a̶s̶e̶ ̶e̶x̶c̶u̶s̶e̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶h̶o̶r̶r̶i̶b̶l̶e̶ ̶p̶u̶n̶ ̶p̶r̶e̶t̶e̶n̶d̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶b̶e̶ ̶a̶ ̶t̶i̶t̶l̶e̶.̶


Location: somewhere cinematic with dramatic cliffs overlooking a sunset on the ocean.

I heard the click of the gun pressed to my temple. How had he sneaked up on me like that? I needed to know that trick.

A moment passed.

"Why not shoot?" I said.

"Is that really what you want to be asking, in your position?"

I grunted noncommittally, and re-considered.

He said nothing for while, so I suppose it fell to me to break this super-awkward silence.

"I'll admit," I spoke, "I really didn't expect to have this confrontation this early in the arc. I suppose you're going to take me back to the Kingdom, now?" He would probably parade me back in the capital as a demonstration of power. Good, I had contingencies in that case.

He ignored my question, and just addressed my comment: "You should recall the bounty still on your head. You aren't as secretive as you think and the locals aren't as trustworthy as you wish."

To be fair, he probably only knew my location because I don't care enough to hide it. I wouldn't tell him that, though.

"I did notice you avoided my question," I observed.

"I took it as an insult. I'm fully aware my government is compromised in your favor, I'd never expect you to get back within custody," a pause, then:

 "I expected better," he tut-tutted. He literally tut-tutted. I've never heard someone actually do it.

"Hmm. I planned for a break just a bit longer, but that's how the saying goes, isn't it?"

He remained silent. Seriously, had this guy not heard of small talk?

"Isn't this a part where you monologue?"

"You seem to be expecting this to flow like a story. It won't. I have this gun press to your temple, and I fully intend to use it," I wanted to laugh, but I wouldn't insult the poor soul.

I settled for:

"No fun."

"Correct," I knew he had to be smirking, at this point.

More silence was smuggled in in the ensuing lull.

"Not much of a conversationalist, are you?" No response. "I guess I'll have to pay that monologue deficit, eh?" No laughs, tough crowd.

I cleared my, throat, had to make this good.

"You say this won't flow like a story. But you're wrong. It will. It already has, and I know it will continue to do so. You might have told yourself the world isn't narrative, that Heros don't always win, good guys don't always get noble deaths, et cetera. You'd have to, since you are a Villain. But I digress.

"The world makes sense. Hell, it's legible. Narrative trumps causality, narrative trumps reality. Heros always win, even if it's a Pyrrhic victory. You s-" interrupted by a laugh.

"Not even I expected this level of delusion, even from a Hero. So your parents fed you on fairy tales as child. The least you could do is outgrow them. Herohood will do you no favors; the last people who could be called Hero were killed. By me. You're the last, luckiest one. That's all. This alone won't save you."

Despite my earlier misgivings, I knew it was my turn to laugh. I did.

"Again, wrong. It kept me going in the pits of despair. When everything I've known was taken from me. When I reached for victory in the jaws of defeat and came back missing a hand. Herohood keeps me going"

"When you should just cut your losses," he continued for me.

"Heros win! I keep telling you as much! It's . . . I can't really explain, but I've, I've seen things. Impossible odds, brushes with Death itself. I never should have survived, but I did."

"Where I'm from, we call that 'luck'."

"It's more than mere luck! None of of this came out of nowhere! When I'm saved from the brink, it's not by random strangers or one-off coincidences. When I find a puzzle, the pieces are all there. When I reach a locked door, the key was picked up by a friend just a few hours past.

"It's not luck. I's like . . . it's providence."

He seemed to take that in. Maybe I convinced him? Maybe he was finally seeing thi-

"I tire of this."

"No! Don't," I was shouting at this point, "I don't know how, but I promise you, if you pull that trigger you will fail. I will win. I've seen it before. Innocent men, good men. All dead before they crossed me or were on the wrong side of my conflicts. When I say providence, I don't mean a gift from the gods. Whatever hand guides my fate is not benevolent, it doesn't have our interests at heart. It's very human, and very vicious. It does this for enjoyment, for entertainment.

"I don't know why this thing latches onto the Heros, but when it does no force on heaven or more can stand against them. Please, before you pull the trigger, just consider what I'm saying. Reform, don't stay a Villain, because this force will target you if you continue.

"A Hero," he said, some weird emotion in his voice.


More laughter. What. This is fucking serious! Why isn't he taking this seriously?

"And yet you try to save me," that emotion was amusement, "don't heros save Innocents or whatever it was?"

"You are innocent! Please, you have to believe it. You aren't evil, you were just forced into a mold. You didn't choose this!

"But I did."

 He pulled the trigger.


I didn't survive.

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