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Majik is a free to view, donation supported fantasy universe created by
Horror-Fantasy writer (Among other things) LIL 6 but is intended to be shared by
the fandom. Rather than try to own it, LIL feels that the best way to create something
amazing is to allow it to be created by its culture. Fan fiction is invited and some
of what is submitted will become canon and some writers will be invited
to write canon about stories that have been planned.

“This is my creation but I want to give it to its fans; this is yours.”

Eventually a group will form to decide what will or will not be canon and
LIL will relinquish control to them and move on to create other shared
universes already in the works.

Chapter Two

Signs and Portents

Pain Will Have its Due

         That night, in the same division of the same suburb - on the other side of consciousness - other odd events unfolded. So gently held aloft by bright purple grass, under deep aqua sky it might have rested on air, a dreamer lay near Nirvana, eyes shut, drinking crisp air like elixir; every detail set exactly, blissfully right - not hot nor cold, not wet nor dry. The world was so tailored to the dreamer it might have wondered if it had died. For that however, the dreamer need not care - all care had long since gone.


         “My love!” A far off a voice sang; with every word the dreamer longed ever more deeply to meet the song's source. As the longing grew so did the voice until the dreamer was sure without the singer's presence, it would surely die.


         The dreamer buried pain so well it had reached a point beyond perception wherein the amount of pain buried can be limitless, its influences equally inconspicuous. Pain is a debt which, like all debts, feeds itself. Some seek to balance pain by hurting others, some try to alleviate the suffering of those around them. Both 'solutions' are fraught with danger, though the surest truth of pain is that pain will have its due.


        “Yes?” the dreamer closed its eyes drifting ever farther away until it could hardly think. An unseen hand caressed the dreamer's cheek softly.


         A healthier way one can reclaim a debt of pain is through escape, but the mind can reach too far, becoming lost in illusions created in pleasure. In a world gone mad, such blind reaching is commonplace and can bring unforeseen consequences.


         “Hate . . .” the voice said in a whisper so gentle it was as if the air massaged the ear so the word was almost beside the point, barely registering - but that particular word was of sufficient disgust to jar the dreamer awake.


         “NO!” the dreamer spoke as it awoke, only to forget why it had spoken.

Some Unseen Force

         Martin's eyelids grew heavy; sleep was rapidly approaching. Martin mused to himself, his mind unburdened via his confession; he considered what his brother might have said. Jake was forgiving of most everyone, while Martin, as his on-hold girlfriend, Jamie, liked to say, would 'marry a grudge if not for her.' Conversely, both Martin and Jake were overly tough on themselves. Jake had often joked that if he kept getting down on others, Martin would run out of energy to get down on himself.

         As the first smile seen in months cracked Martin's gloomful face, his moment was cut short when something odd stole his attention. Two dim lights shone from beneath a shrub across the back lawn, so dim they should never have warranted the notice of even a fully alert Martin, but he was somehow drawn to them. Still, for some eerie reason, the lights came as such a shock that it was as if two tiny bolts of lightning had pierced his eyes.

         The lights suddenly grew brighter at ever hastening speed until nearly blinding. As Martin tried to recoil he realized he couldn't move nor draw breath; his heart seemed to have stopped mid beat. For just a moment Martin began to wonder if he had died, but was distracted by something else: utter and total beauty.

         The strange lights were no longer painful. Instead, they had risen to face level and as they progressed in his direction, became a pair of eyes so perfectly beautiful that Martin lost all sense, and nothing else mattered. Suddenly, Martin's world completely changed. Not only was the feeling of dread that gripped him seconds before gone, Martin could recall nothing at all. There was no Jake, no brother, no sister, no mother, nothing... there were only the eyes.

         Losing himself in bliss one moment, Martin was yanked back from nirvana the next, as the eyes became red rimmed and sickly green. The colors intermixed like some vile swirling pool of blood and sludge inside a flexible transparency, spinning hypnotically as if stirred by some evil power. The creature's face came into focus, gnarled and grotesque, colored the same sickly red and green. Sections of the things skin seemed to slither as if an orgy of snakes were wrapped round bone.

         As the creature stared at Martin ad it let out a hideous laugh, and a noxious gas billowed from the creature's mouth singeing Martin's nostrils and throat. Martin's senses were so overwhelmed that if he could have moved, the contents of his entire digestive system, would have exited the nearest available holes in impossibly short order.

         The moment the notion of utter dread returned, just before Martin surrendered a second time to death, a notion of peace and tranquility quelled the horror. The smell and sound suddenly ceased as a look of confusion came across the creature's face, followed by one of fear as it turned to run, moving away at an impossible speed. An instant later, Martin was himself again, but so exhausted he fell backwards into his chair. What should have been a hard fall however was somehow cushioned by some unseen force. Martin suddenly felt as if he were being caught in a blanket made of air and set so gently down he didn't realize he was back in his chair until he moved around to check.

The One No One Need Doubt

         Back within the astral plane in the mind of a different dreamer, yet more drama was playing out. Awaking within a dream, the dreamer looked around, finding itself enclosed in a doorless room.


         “Well isn't this fun!” said the dreamer realizing on some level it was in a dream


         As the dreamer spoke, one of the walls opened to reveal a posh setup with a big screen TV, video game systems, surround sound and a chair that somehow looked more comfortable than any real chair could feel. The dreamer stepped forward in a daze.


         “Ouch” The dreamer's head hit the wall, the previous scene gone. Suddenly confused, the dreamer's pain felt too real.


         “Do you really think fun and games will free you?” said a strange disembodied voice.


         “Who?” As the dreamer spoke it spun round to see who was talking, finding instead four blank walls.


          Just then, a second wall opened, this time to an idyllic beach complete with the most attractive person it had ever seen. Stunned again, it walked forth.


         “Damn it” the dreamer walked into a second wall. “What's the point of this?”


         “Who are you?” The voice said.


         “I'm the one no one need doubt.” As the dreamer spoke it felt as if the words came from somewhere else.


         “But without doubt, there is no freedom, and all of us make mistakes. Only slaves without will can stand doubtless . . . is that you?”


         “No... Who are you? Where am I?”


         “Perhaps in future you might raise questions before banging your head against walls. It is said that haste makes waste, but far worse can be sown by hurry.” As the voice spoke, the dreamer woke.

Keeping to the Practice

         The next day dawning, Jamie awoke with a powerful sense of confusion.


         Despite what some might have assumed from her occupation, Jamie's mother, Luna was a creature of habit. To stray from routine usually signaled serious misfortune. Normally Luna was there to encourage her daughter seconds after the alarm sounded. Worried, Jamie probably broke her record speed getting ready for breakfast.


         “Mom?” Jamie said, not really wanting to know what might be eating at the clairvoyant.


         As Jamie neared the entryway to the kitchen her brain raced over the possibilities, refusing to consider the most likely reason her mother was absent. Jamie was unwilling to confront another loss. Stepping into the room Jamie shut her eyes, bracing for what she might see, or more to the point, not see.


         Luna sat, staring at some untouched coffee, a single tear halfway down her cheek. Ignorance does not equate bliss, but knowing a terrible thing you haven't power to change is an unmatched burden. As Jamie entered, Luna flinched and looked over.


         “Oh... hello hon, I didn't hear you get up...” Luna lied.


         “Are you okay?” Jamie desperately wanted to demand a real answer but she knew better.


         No, no... Just the state of things feels heavier today” Jamie wasn't near par with her mother intuitions, but it would have been hard to miss that this was far nowhere near the whole truth.


         “Okay, I'll get some cereal.” Jamie knew better than to pry.


         “No, I'll make you something” Luna muttered.


         An hour later Jamie had forced down the watery eggs and burnt toaster waffles her mother had absentmindedly prepared. It was all the more alarming as Luna was usually very mindful of everything and could cook like few others.


         In reality, Jamie's walk to school was very short as she and her mother and lived a few blocks away, but given how the day started it seemed much longer


         “Um.. I will see you after school.” Jamie said hopefully as she left, the hair on the back of her neck standing at attention.


         “Yeah...” Luna said in a daze.


         As Jamie walked out the door Luna looked in at an ornate mirror that stood next to the door and saw the face of an old man looking back at her.


“We will look after her.” Said the man.


         “I know, but you can't guarantee her safety... I hate you for that.” Luna said, first sadly, then in anger. There were a few versed enough in ancient ways to have not only seen the truth of the crisis, but to also have been warned; Luna had knowledge few did.


         Jamie's great-grandmother Vera (“V” for short), was raised Baptist but was enamored of the ways of the Santeria and other priestesses of the era in Louisiana and East Texas and she became a mystic. Luna's mother, Mia took after V lock and step, but Luna was the secular type, seeing mysticism as a branch of science. Vera, now 111 years old, was still a matriarch behind a family full of community leaders. While Vera and Mia would see whoever this was as their better, a being to be venerated and respected, Luna saw him as simply a practitioner with more extensive knowledge.


         “That is half of why you aren't coming.” said the image in the mirror.


         “What's the other half?” Luna asked, half knowing half not wanting to. Though not totally alone among her kin in branching out to other paths in life, Luna had made the additional sin, at least in the eyes of her family, of keeping to the practice of the family while denying it's dogmas.


         Jamie and her mother had long since stopped going to family gatherings with Luna's side; they still had support of Jamie's father's family, who were from California and preferred to stay out of such things, but her father had died when she was 2. Jamie was the only one left who understood who Luna was. Standing alone terrified Luna.


         “You will be needed here.”


         “And why is that?” Luna knew the answer but she wanted it from a horse' mouth.


         “You will be needed. Hell is on it's way.”


         “I know... and damn you for bringing it”


         “Damned... yes, that would about sum it up”

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