If you're new to my Universe, please read the Introduction and Prelude. Then feel free to pick whatever story you like the most from this list.
Compositions
| Wright's Story | Stella's Story | Parzifal's Story |
|---|---|---|
| Overture – The Sponge | Bagatelle – In the Forests of the Night | Ballad – Body & Mind |
| Fugue – Abducted | Fantasia – Mystery Garden | Sonata - Anyman |
| Lullaby – Stranger Than Dreams | Capriccio – Playing with Portals | Dirge – What a Wonderful Shitpile |
| Nocturne – A World Asleep | Rhapsody – Intersection of the Multiverse | Requiem – Violent Redemption |
| Abby's Story | Arol's Story | John Doe's Story |
| Motet – School of Wills | Elegy – Of Life & Purpose | Oratorio – Rebirth at a Funeral |
| Serenade – Classes and Classes | Suite – Beautiful Minds | Aria – The Life and Lies of a Nobody |
| Aubade – The Attraction Point | Finale – Messiah for a Day | Concerto – I Am Become Life |
| Antiphon – Army of Puppets |
As long as you start from the beginning of a particular character's story, everything should make perfect sense (well at much sense as starting with any other story). I'll try to fill this table in with links as much as possible in future posts, but since steemit doesn't let you edit after a certain amount of time, older posts won't have too many links. In any case, you can use this table as a reference, and then find the next piece of the story on my profile (or just click on my latest upload to see which ones have been written and choose from there). 😊 Enjoy!
“It speaks in tongues and quiet sighs through longing and abuse
It’s in the smallest of gestures and thirty thousand mornings
In grand proclamations and shallow, satisfied gasps
In a rush of excitement to a reflective muse after
When it can’t ever happen and when it never should have
It ignores commands and attempts with words
They escape a mess and leave damage in their wake
Even attempts to weave words in poetry fail its expression
But a dance, a brush, a wild call and in the deepness of eyes
Through a passionate night speaks the language of the heart”
– Elder Apash’s address to the Robot Society
Parzifal spent his life envying others. Their looks, their families, their friends... If he could have just those three things, he would be happy. Maybe it was pathetic to think that way and not try to do anything about it, but Parzifal just didn't have that kind of personality - one that reached for what he wanted.
Rain poured down in buckets as he plodded home at 11 p.m. He had spent the day at the library escaping into old books, but it had closed for the day, and now he was forced to return home. As he trudged through the muddy puddles forming on the street, he hoped that his father had already passed out.
"Come on kid, give it to us!" came a voice from the alley up ahead.
Parzifal glanced in that direction as he passed and saw a kid getting pummeled. This was the second mugging he'd seen since entering his neighborhood. He turned away and ducked his head before breaking into a sprint that would take him all the way home.
As he approached the door, he checked the side window to see if his father was still awake. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw a figure sprawled across the floor surrounded by cans and bottles. It blocked the front door though, so Parzifal hopped the low, dilapidated fence and climbed through the broken window and into his bedroom.
He laid on his creaky mattress after removing most of his soaked clothing and covered himself in a single, threadbare sheet. For a while he just laid there, trying to force himself to get the necessary sleep he needed before his father woke in the morning. But like the rest of his life, his brain never felt like cooperating. It wandered from random topic to random topic, eventually fantasizing about a female classmate.
Estella had gorgeous red hair that she managed to keep much cleaner than the rest of the students. He was always a bit embarrassed to say anything to her, so he settled on awkwardly staring at her from afar like most of the other boys. He held an image of her in his mind and wondered about her home life. No doubt much better than his. By now she was probably asleep in a more comfortable bed, in a less weathered home, surrounded by kinder people. Parzifal couldn't help but hate himself more in that moment. Even his fantasies were self-loathing.
And then, in an instant, he stopped hating himself. In fact, a lot of things changed quite suddenly. He felt more comfortable in his bed — a bed which seemed softer than it had moments ago — a bed that didn't creak. Even stranger, he felt more comfortable in his skin — more well-rested or something of that sort... and smaller.
In that moment, Parzifal should have panicked, but everything was simply better. All he felt was intense curiosity at what the hell just happened. He tossed the blankets off and walked in the direction of the light switch only to bump into a large wooden object. He stood there in confusion for a minute as his eyes adjusted, then brushed some fuzzy cloth out of his face before glancing around the room. It wasn't his. He spotted the light switch next to an unfamiliar door on the opposite side of the room and quickly hurried to it. Parzifal flipped the switch and once again waited for his eyes to adjust.
The room was clean. It had no broken window and more than a shitty mattress for furniture. He spotted a dingy mirror off to the left and cautiously approached it. It was quite an odd feeling, staring into a mirror and having someone else stare back. Someone who shared absolutely nothing in common with the person ogling.
Parzifal touched his new hair – long and red. He traced his new form – small and slender. He considered his new face – beautiful, yet thoroughly shocked. He was Estella.
For what seemed like hours, Parzifal stared at his reflection and failed to process what had happened.
"Honey?" a soft voice asked as someone cracked open the door.
Parzifal's head snapped toward the voice. A concerned woman wearing a nightgown stared back at him.
"Is something wrong? Why are you standing there with the light on?" she asked.
"Couldn't sleep," Parzifal replied in a stranger's voice.
"Do you want some tea?"
"No thanks. I'm pretty tired now."
The woman gave him a puzzled look as he went back to bed.
"Alright, well goodnight honey," she said as she turned off the light and closed the door.
Parzifal laid there thinking about absolutely nothing. His brain just didn't work. And the funny thing about laying down and not thinking is that it happens to be an ideal way to fall asleep. So, despite how incredibly bizarre his experience had been, Parzifal passed out in a matter of minutes.
The next morning, Parzifal felt like shit. His whole body ached and felt lumpy in places - a more normal experience for him. He sat upright and his bed creaked. He looked at his normal hands and normal room and normal broken window. He found his normal reflection in a piece of glass.
What a weird dream, his brain decided. He readied himself for school before his father woke up.
He spent the rest of the morning zoning out and pondering very real memories in his head. Completely impossible memories. Had he lost his mind? Estella seemed to think so. She gave him odd looks all day, and every time Parzifal tried to stare at her like he always did, she noticed, got flustered, and looked away.
Finally, class broke for recess, and Parzifal felt randomly inspired to approach Estella. She stood on the other side of the playground surrounded by her friends, but none of this fazed him. She saw him approach and stopped talking. Her friends noticed and fell silent too. In the last few steps his awkwardness returned, and he immediately regretted his decision.
However, he didn't want to look like a complete idiot, so he forced his blank mind to form a somewhat intelligible statement.
"About last night, I mean, you've been... do you mind if I talk to you over there?" he managed.
Nearby boys were jealous. Estella's friends appeared scandalized. Estella looked inquisitive.
"Okay," she replied.
Everyone on the playground stared at them as they walked behind the building.
Before Parzifal could think of a follow up question, Estella burst out with, "So that actually happened? I was actually you? Is that what you were going to ask?"
"What?" Parzifal replied. That was real? That's why she’d stared at him? She was actually me? Holy. Shit.
"Oh, so it didn't?"
"No, it did. I mean, I think. What happened to you?"
"I was you," Estella replied firmly, "For most of last night. It happened suddenly, and then I was back to being me. I didn't manage to sleep at all, but I feel fine somehow. I'm so sorry. I don't know how it happened, but it must have been scary having me control you."
"Wait what?" Parzifal interrupted, "I wasn't being controlled. I was you."
"Oh. Oh, thank god," Estella said, clearly relieved, "I thought you'd be mad at me for looking at you." Estella stopped, suddenly embarrassed, "Wait, did you look at me naked?"
"Uh no. I just kind of stood there like an idiot. Why did you look at me naked?"
Estella stared at the ground and nodded. Elation spread through him. The pain in his body left as his heart began to pound a thousand times faster than normal.
"That's okay, but then I get to look at you naked."
"What? Now?" she replied in a panic.
"No, no, tonight. We'll do the switch thingy again and I'll do it then," Parzifal stated boldly, surprising even himself.
Estella shyly glanced at him before looking back at the ground. "Okay," she whispered. And the two of them awkwardly returned to their respective groups. She to her circle of inquisitive friends, and he to no one in particular.
Night couldn’t fall fast enough. Parzifal couldn’t think straight, but even in his excitement he knew to avoid his house until after his father passed out. Parzifal daydreamed in the library until it closed. It was the first time he’d ever gone there and not cracked open a book. Hours crawled by, and eventually he made it safely back to his room. He laid down and attempted to recreate the situation that triggered last night’s events. Had Estella been the one to switch their minds? Perhaps, but she seemed to think it was just as random as he had. What was his state of mind at the time? He had been thinking about her. Did she have to be thinking about him too for the swap to work? Most likely she was waiting for it to happen just like him, so that shouldn't be an issue.
Parzifal wished he had asked Estella a million more relevant questions and had been less of a pervert. After thinking and imagining some of the oddest things in his life, in frustration Parzifal finally gave up. Tomorrow he'd have to figure out exactly what they were trying to do.
Estella found him at recess before he had the chance to search for her. She grabbed his hand and led him behind the building before anyone realized they were gone. Once they were out of view from the playground, she turned around to face him.
"So, what happened?" she asked.
"Nothing for me. You?"
"Yeah, same. I tried to make everything the same as before, but it wasn't enough. Is that what you did?"
"Yeah that's exactly what I did," replied Parzifal. "Well except I was a bit wet before from the rain, but I don't think that made it fail."
"Maybe it only happens on certain days?" suggested Estella, sounding more and more disappointed.
"Yeah maybe," Parzifal answered, mirroring her mood.
"So, we'll try again next Tuesday? Make sure your clothes are wet then too," said Estella trying to sound more hopeful.
"Alright. Next Tuesday."
Parzifal didn't feel like going to the library that day, so he returned home early in a renewed state of self-loathing. He'd probably get the shit kicked out of him, but he found it hard to care. He climbed through the broken window into his room and laid on his mattress.
“Where have you been?” his father slurred as he barged through the door.
“Fuck off,” Parzifal mumbled.
“What’d you say to me?”
Coming back early was a stupid idea. The other night had been so thoroughly disappointing that he hadn’t thought things through, and now he was going to pay for it.
As the first of many blows thudded against his back, Parzifal retreated into his mind. Of course, the only thing his mind wanted to think about was Estella. His thoughts drifted from her enchanting demeanor to her safe home and caring mother. Suddenly, his father stopped hitting him.
He glanced up. His father had disappeared. His room had disappeared. His body had disappeared.
Parzifal rushed across Estella’s room to her mirror to confirm what had happened. He was her, which meant that she was him… Parzifal suddenly felt sick. This wasn’t what he had wanted at all! While she took the rest of his beating, he was safe in her comfortable room. Parzifal’s head spun, and he was forced to sit on the bed.
Moments later, the woman from before entered Estella’s room. “Piano practice,” she mumbled as she let the door drift open. Parzifal followed her out of the room in a fugue state and sat down next to an older man. He said some things about picking up where they had left off and gestured for him to start.
Great. Not only was Estella getting the crap beat out of her because of him, but now she was going to perform terribly in piano practice as well. Was there some way to disconnect this? It had happened in his sleep before, so he wasn’t sure what to do. He sat for several seconds and concentrated on his normal body.
“I said we’re picking up where we left off,” the older man repeated as he roughly grabbed Estella’s hands and placed them on the keys.
Fine. Whatever. Parzifal slapped the keyboard a few times and some beautiful music came out. Surprised, he looked down at his slender, pale hands as they danced gracefully in front of him. Holy shit. It was so easy. Parzifal didn’t even know what he was doing, but a series of approving mutters from his piano teacher told him it was correct.
For a moment, he forgot about how bizarre and terrible his situation was and simply enjoyed the music he was effortlessly producing. The beauty of the moment fled when Parzifal felt the older man slide behind him on the bench.
“You need to work on your posture,” came his pathetic excuse. Parzifal obliged by sitting up as straight as possible while continuing to play the piano.
Maybe he was jumping to conclusions. For all he knew, this was her father and it wasn’t weird at all. Just after that thought, Parzifal felt the man’s hand slide onto his waist and down his thigh. Fuck no. This was not happening if he could help it. He wasn’t going to be the reason Estella got beat up and raped in the same day.
His hand left the keyboard and grabbed the man’s pinky. Parzifal jammed it inward, and the man swore in surprise. He took the opportunity to rip the man’s pinky backward until it snapped. The man screamed and Parzifal took the opportunity to elbow him in the face.
Parzifal spun around, jumped off the bench, and bolted for Estella’s room. Estella’s mother came rushing down the stairs to see what had happened. Parzifal slammed the door shut behind him, locked it, and shoved the dresser in front of it.
When he laid on Estella’s bed, he started to think maybe he hadn’t handled that well. Had he just made a delicate situation worse?
He laid down expecting to hear a knock any second followed by questions of what the hell was wrong with him, but they never came. His mind exhausted itself and he collapsed. The next thing he knew, it was morning. His bruised body throbbed and bled in familiar shitty ways, although this time he had no memory of how most of his newly formed lumps had gotten there.
Parzifal managed to avoid Estella until recess, when she dragged him behind the school building.
“It happened again for you too, right? Why are you avoiding me?” she blurted out.
“Because it happened at the worst time! Didn’t you get the shit beaten out of you?” Parzifal asked incredulously while holding up his bruised arm as proof.
Estella grinned. “Nope. He got the shit beat out of him!”
“Wait, what?”
“I beat him up! You’ve got a strong body, so I could do it. Besides you came at the perfect time. I was about to have piano practice…” Estella trailed off as if suddenly realizing something horrible. “Did something happen at practice? You just didn’t do it, right?”
“I did.”
“Oh, you play the piano too?”
“Not at all.”
They stared at each other for a second before Estella seemed to figure something out. “So when you are me, you can do what I can do, and when I’m you, I can do what you can do?”
Parzifal nodded. That seemed to be exactly how it worked. “By the way,” he said, “I broke your piano instructor’s finger and elbowed him in the face.”
Estella’s hand shot to her elbow, and she absentmindedly began rubbing it. She grinned. “And then you pushed my dresser in front of the door?”
Parzifal was surprised at how lightly Estella was taking everything, but that surprise was quickly dwarfed by what he felt in the next few seconds. Estella slid in closer to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. She leaned in while gazing into his eyes and planted her lips against his. She brushed against them again and again while sucking slightly on his lower lip, until Parzifal felt something wet against his cheek.
Estella pulled back, her face soaked with tears, and she whispered, “Thank you.” She brushed her tears away, took a step back from him, and then asked, “So did you get a chance to look?”
“What?” Parzifal replied stupidly.
“Did you get a chance to look at me, or were you too distracted by everything to remember?”
“I, uh, I forgot.” Parzifal laughed awkwardly.
And with that, Estella began to unbutton her blouse as she stared hard into Parzifal’s eyes. “Make sure no one is coming.”
Parzifal’s eyes grew wide and he quickly nodded. He peaked around the corner of the school building and scanned the playground. No one seemed to be paying any attention. “I think we’re fine,” he said as he turned back around.
Estella stood there in a perfectly placed sunbeam despite the cloudy sky, nearly naked, her face completely red. Parzifal stopped breathing when Estella motioned for him with the hand that wasn’t holding bits of her clothing out of the way.
“Fair’s fair,” she said, “Since we don’t know when it’ll happen again, I won’t make you wait.” She grabbed his hand when he came close and cupped it around her breast. “I did stuff like this too,” she whispered, “So fair’s fair.”
When school was out, Estella left with Parzifal who was still happily stunned into silence.
“We’re going to figure out how to get this to work,” she said to him as they walked to the library, “and I’m not going home till we do.”
The following afternoon was the best in Parzifal’s life, even though they weren’t any closer to figuring out how to cause a switch. They searched through old books, talked, laughed, and grew closer with each passing minute. Eventually, the intercom notified them that the library would be closing in less than five minutes, so they headed out together.
"So, I'll see you after school tomorrow, and we'll keep working on this?" Parzifal asked.
Estella tilted her head. "I said I'm not going home until we figure this out."
"Oh right, well, I didn't realize you meant that even if we didn't figure it out today. Where are you going to sleep?"
"At your place. It's not like I haven't been there before."
"Uh, technically you haven't. It's a bad neighborhood. I definitely don't recommend going through it."
Estella smiled coyly. "You don't want to spend the night with me?"
"That's definitely not what I meant. I do, but—"
"Then I'm coming. Besides, I don't want to go home for other reasons."
A sudden realization him. She didn't want to go home, because she didn't want to deal with the whole piano teacher situation, which was kind of his fault. "Alright," he agreed feeling rather guilty about what had happened, "but we have to wander around some before heading back to make sure my father has passed out."
"Fine with me."
And with that, Parzifal led Estella through his regular procrastination route which dodged some of the sketchier parts of the neighborhood. They got back around midnight and peeked through the window, confirming that his father had indeed passed out before hopping through the broken window. By this time, they were both exhausted. After a few more exchanged glances, they laid together on the old mattress and went to sleep.
The following morning was a nightmare.
Blood caked most the floor and generous portions of the wall. A forensics expert snapped pictures of the half-naked cadaver's sliced throat. Several police investigators roamed the scene, business as usual for this district.
Parzifal stared blankly into space. The examiner's mouth was moving, but he had forgotten to vibrate his vocal chords, so Parzifal watched his mouth open and close. Apparently, he got frustrated by Parzifal's inability to read lips, because he gave up and had Parzifal placed on a stretcher. Into an ambulance. Doors closed. Mind blank. World spinning into black.
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Good content keep it up :)
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This is adorable. :)
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Good stuff!