The seas churned violently as he held tightly the door’s frame. His feet threatened to slide out from underneath him, not getting much stability from the slick wooden deck in the rainfall. He pulled the hood tight over his head and held on.

A man dressed in an extravagant royal uniform pushed his way past him. He was visibly agitated, but below deck wasn’t much dryer than above deck and no one onboard would blame him. He walked to the edge of the ship and paused, only his silhouette visible in the haze. The only sound was the heavy rain and crash of the waves as he stood at the bow, unmoving like a statue. In time he turned back around. Passing by his shipmate, he acknowledged him only with a slightly scowl. It was an uneasy trip.

When the man was back below deck, the robed man relaxed, an almost unseen tension leaving him. He wiped some of the soaking rain from his face instinctively. The hands that wiped his face clean were hard, unnaturally weathered. His eyes stared blankly into the distance while he rubbed the veins of his hands. The stairs creaked as someone ascended to the deck again. He quickly tucked his hands back into his large robes he again held tightly to the ship’s frame. They would land soon.

I can feel them crawling.  On me, under me, around me.  Their small, fluttering wings.  Their millions of tiny feet.  Their hivemind screaming out to me.  But not just how they touch me or how they slide on me; I feel them all around, in the walls, under the carpet.  A blanket of them nearly blots out the light, only letting in a few misguided rays, and I welcome the darkness.  The darkness lets me focus on their thoughts.  It was almost torture trying to understand them at first, their high pitched voices ringing in my ears.  After listening to them for years, though, that gives you enough time to pick out certain thoughts.  It’s still not comfortable, it’s still a scratching, yelling, bleeding ringing in my ears, but I understand it now.  The neighbours used to complain.

But as a man once said, with great power comes great responsibility.  I use this knowledge for good, these powers.  My mind is strong, my skin tough to their biting and their gnawing, but others aren’t so.  That’s how I attract more.  Much as I live in my home now, alone except for my guests, I have found them homes to live in.  Rapists, murderers, adulterers, their rotten minds are now homes for something more precious than vile, twisted thoughts.  With each one I can feel my power growing.  And the voices get louder with each new mouth, screaming to be fed.

At first I fled the city, so our family could leave in solitude.  That didn’t last long.  They need to be around people, skittering underfoot, through people.  I taste what they taste.  I hear what they hear.  And they hear a knock at the door.  I wonder who that could be this time of night, and I don’t usually get visitors.  I’m lying down right now though.  I’ll get my guests to answer.

27 hours of travelling? Can I go home now? I’m cold and wolves are after me.

I wonder when I’ll have internet access again!

ADVENTURE!

I penned those words onto a shimmering screen, a waterfall of light passing over my eyes.  The blotches of ink stained the crystalline water, filling the river.  I grasped at the words as they flowed out of me without avail.  Soon tears replaced the ink, my own sorrow mixing with the ink and the light, creating a thick, dark liquid.

So I sent it.

I turned off the light and sat in the darkness.  I got a phone call minutes later.  A calming voice.  His calming voice.  I held back tears.