MOAB � Mother Of All Boxsets

by George Saoulidis

  “Yeah, I agree-” A black cat brushed against my leg and I yelped. The girl laughed. “It really scared me, jeez!”

  “It’s quite good, isn’t it?” the girl said, touching my arm.

  “Good, right,” I rubbed my neck. I caught a glimpse of Becky, talking to people. At this point it was crowded, and I could see the black eyes and the witch hat turning her attention to me.

  A spider dropped from the ceiling right on top of my nose. I gulped and shut my eyes. It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real.

  When I opened them, Becky was standing right in front of my face, in full ugly-hag glory. “See? You are making new friends! You poor thing, worried so much if you’ll fit in.” She pinched my cheek. Becky had never done that before. She always stood close to me but never actually touched me, except perhaps the casual brush of fingertips when she was giving me something.

  Agni must have been awkward. Damn, those masks made it so hard to understand people. Not that girls are easy to understand at any other given moment. I was more attentive than the average male, cause I liked studying people. I could tell that a power-dynamic had just taken place, I had been tagged and owned by the alpha female, and the beta had just pulled herself away and given us space.

  I tried to break the awkwardness. And I also wanted to see Agni again sometime, even if it was just for hanging out with people from my School. “Well, we’ll have that dark chocolate soon, can’t wait to try it!”

  Agni’s eyes darted between me and Becky. “Right, don’t know if I can make it this week, but when the guys gather, I’ll let you in on the group chat.” And just like that, she stepped away.

  Becky seemed pleased with herself. She moved her body in front of mine and looked me in the eyes. Her own pitch-black eyes were very unsettling. “Have I shown you the study? It was Kotopouli’s favourite place.” Her voice was syrupy and seductive, the exact kind I expected to hear earlier from Agni’s mask.

  She grabbed me by the shirt collar and I followed. “It’s empty now, the party is limited to downstairs. No one will bother us, I promise.”

  Upstairs, we… uh. We had sex, mama. I’m embarrassed to tell you this, but it’s relevant to the story. So, yeah, there it is. We had sex, Becky and I. Only we still had the masks on, and it felt weird. I longed for the touch of her lips on my skin, but every time I stared down at her I saw that ugly greenish face and I promptly looked away. She felt warm and soft but she looked cold and dried out.

  “Can we… Wait, Becky, wait. Can’t we turn the BOO! masks off or something? Just for now? I wanna see you.”

  “You can’t turn them off, silly,” she said sweetly with her black eyes staring up at me and her rotten teeth touching my manhood. “It will wear off in the morning, as soon as the sun comes up. The sunrise dispels all enchantments, don’t you know that, Anthropology?” She licked her lips seductively, but they were full of pustules and little black hairs.

  “Right,” I gulped, closing my eyes. I knew it was Becky, sexy, hot, beautiful Becky, but my eyes saw other things and my stomach turned. The light was dim enough upstairs, only the white LED of the city lights shone in and some colourful spill of the hubbub below. I could probably stomach it enough to finish the deed. I had desired her since the moment I showed up at the door and met my roommates. Since she first cracked her smile at me, since she first brushed her hand on mine and called me “silly” about something.

  I wanted her, and I wasn’t gonna miss the chance because of some stupid ugly mask. I swallowed hard to keep the taste of vomit down.

  She asked me afterwards if it was okay for her to go back down to her guests, and I said yes. My heart was thumping, but it had been twenty minutes since we finished having sex. I stayed there alone for a bit, staring at the empty bookcases. The Spookmeister didn’t bother projecting anything up here, since the party was on the ground floor and flooded out into the garden, where he hacked AROs of graves and grinning pumpkins. Nobody was up here to appreciate his craft.

  Then why did I still see things moving in the shadows?

  I walked around the party, trying to blend in. My mind was still racing from before, all those mixed feelings. I can’t say I really enjoyed it, even though I waited for it for so long. In the garden, I stepped on weeds and avoided graves. They were AROs, not really there, but still it felt disrespectful to step on a grave. It wasn’t real, but it seemed real and everybody there could see it. So who could argue that it wasn’t real after all? I stared down at the cracked marble. The VJ had modelled the graves after real ones from the cemetery at Zografos. You could tell, they had the Greek style, not the foreign style you see in the movies. They were whiter but no less creepy. Somebody pushed into me and I struggled to avoid stepping on the grave. I felt like at the Acropolis museum where the floor is glass, sure, you can step on it but my stomach would rather I didn’t.

  I located Agni with her friends, and I stepped into their group. They quickly started chatting with me, seeing that I was at the same School. They were friendly. Their masks were a zombie, some slasher movie villain, a super-creepy nurse of some sort, a dead bride with a noose around her neck, and a werewolf with enormous canines that moved all the time cause the dude wouldn’t shut up for anything.

  I could hang out with these guys. I haven’t seen their faces yet, but sure, I could do it. Every time I turned my gaze to Agni, it was like she was ignoring me. Or avoiding me. Damn. She had been so friendly only half an hour ago.

  At some point, the werewolf said, “Hey man, we’re going to the after-party at the cemetery. Are you coming?”

  “Ugh…” I stalled for time. “Look, I’m tired, I helped out with the decorations from early on, I dunno. I’ll pass. But I’ll see you at Anthropology, that’s for sure.”

  “Really? Your loss, man,” he said and shrugged. I kept expecting those canines to get in the way of his speech, but they weren’t real of course. “Come on, Agni.” He put his arm over her shoulder and they took off for the cars.

  I waved them goodnight.

  It had gone quite late. I didn’t expect to make it through this much of a party. I’m usually ready to pull my hair off after a couple of hours, yet, here I was, at 3 A.M.

  A fucking skeleton reached out for my foot, and I yelped. Thank gods that the guys had left already.

  That was it, I was going home. Becky could handle being on her own, she wouldn’t mind.

  I walked home alone, in the night. It was chilly but nothing a brisk walk couldn’t combat. I took Zografou avenue, even though it took me on a bit of an angle, I wanted to be in illuminated areas. There were some people walking about. I was too spooked at that point to look closer at their faces. All those monster masks were really getting to me after so many hours. I kept seeing things hiding in the dark corners. I bumped on someone on the sidewalk and had to look up. Thank gods, he was normal. Just some guy. I apologised and hurried along.

  Then I had to turn away from the well-lit avenue. Our apartment was just three blocks away, a negligible walk under any other circumstances.

  I froze.

  I stayed there, immobile, for quite some time. The streets were dark. Sure, there were streetlights but somehow the light wasn’t enough to fight off the darkness. Even though we didn’t really celebrate Halloween in Greece, somehow, in the back of everyone’s mind, danger loomed and doors were closed and families huddled together.

  I bit my lips so much I tasted blood. Now that, hoo-boy, that didn’t help at all for my state of mind.

  I looked back. The avenue was illuminated and had people, but I was tired and scared and wanted to go home. There was no point going back. My bed was just a few paces away.

  Right after that dark alley.

  A rowdy group of men showed up and approached my position. They weren’t doing anything really, but they had this sort of vibe that they could easily mug me and move on to bar as if nothing had happened.

  I forced my feet to move and I hurried towards the dark alley.
>
  “Hey!” one of them called out behind me.

  I dared not glance back and I walked faster.

  “Hey, man, I just wanna ask you something,” he said and laughed. His friends laughed.

  I was practically jogging now.

  I heard footfalls. The man reached out and grabbed me by the shoulder. I pushed his hand away and turned around.

  His face was a rotting mask. A juicy worm peeked out of his nostril.

  I looked far, behind him, his friends were wearing rotting masks too.

  I kicked blindly, connected with something, no idea what, and I ran.

  I got home, jammed the key in the door, hurried upstairs and crawled into my bed.

  It’s been two days, mom. Becky is still wearing the mask. She came to check up on me, and I peeked through the door. She had changed her clothes but the hag’s face was still there, though she acted like nothing was wrong.

  I’m scared. I’m scared to go look in the mirror.

  I keep trying to feel the mask on my face, but I know it’s intangible, it’s augmented reality. It can be there and not be felt.

  I haven’t left the room in two days. It’s November the 2nd. Two sunrises have come and gone. When will this nightmare be over?

  When will the true faces come back, mama?

  The End

  Did you enjoy this story? Find more of the God Complex Universe on https://mythographystudios.com/join-the-mythographers/

  AMOK|KOMA

  This time, I bite down so hard that I tear off a piece of my tongue and I feel warm blood trickling down my esophagus, choking me.

  The doctor sees me foaming pink saliva mixed with blood out of my mouth, he runs towards me and turns me on my side. I shake and spasm, my face a distorted mask. The doctor is trying to hold me on my side, but my bonds prevent it.

  I see him hesitating and I spit blood. Choking.

  He loosens the leather strap on my wrist and places me in proper recovery position.

  I breathe once more.

  I moan out of my nose and he thinks I’m trying to communicate something. He lowers his head and I grab him by the neck.

  I hit him hard on the metal railing of the bed, again and again. “Mgrrn!” I grumble incoherently and on the third blow his forehead cuts and bleeds and his eyes turn upwards. He stumbles and falls back, my fingers slip and I let him go.

  I pull on the straps that bind me. My hands are shaking uncontrollably, I can’t keep them steady long enough to pull the pin that secures me down. The doctor stands up a bit, he holds his head and he looks dizzy. He’s young like me and he recovers quickly, though I doubt that he has ever been in a fight before. “Nnn!” I tell him and my hands batter the straps like stumps.

  Epileptic threshold1 45.50 ± 22 millicoulomb2 (mc)

  He stands on his feet, sidesteps towards me and grabs me. The strap goes loose at that moment and my hands are finally free. I can feel them funny, heavy, strong but tired. As if they weren’t my own. My hands lock around his neck and the doctor fights for oxygen.

  Seconds pass. Ten, twelve. His hands let go of mine and he claws at my face, at my eyes. I turn my face away and keep on squeezing his throat. I can feel his trachea with both of my thumbs under his Adam’s apple and I push in hard, like tearing up an orange.

  His face reddens, his eyes bleed through the suddenly bloody pattern of veins.

  I want to let him go, not hurt him any more. Maybe he has loved ones, someone in his life that’s waiting for him to come home. Maybe…

  “Mnn!” I moan and it sounds like protest.

  Yes. Perhaps in my dizzy spell from all the drugs and sleeplessness I have heard him talking to someone on the phone, speaking tender words. Promising surprises and gifts when he comes home.

  Epileptic threshold 55.80 ± 25 millicoulomb (mc)

  I let him go. He crumbles on the greenish tile and pulls in oxygen desperately. He won’t bother me any more.

  My hands respond to me a little better now. I untie the straps on my feet and rise up from the medical bed. I wear patient’s robes and the chilly wind circulates around, cooling my testicles. I look around, a half-lit surgical room straight out of a nightmare. A metal stool, two tables with syringes and vials. Two beds, one my own, the other with an immobile body on it. He seems dead, but the wires and indicators that beep rhythmically say that he’s simply unconscious.

  He’s old, his hair wispy and a dirty shade of grey, his hands full of liver spots and wrinkles. He barely breathes, his chest rising and falling minutely and the transparent plastic tube ends up inside his mouth. I notice he’s wearing silk pyjamas, a huge difference than what I’m wearing. Despite that, his fate seems little different than mine.

  But I’m barefoot, when he still has silk slippers beside the bed.

  He has… something more.

  I move close, my feet trembling. As if I haven’t used them for hours, every step demanding extra attention for balance.

  I look at the old man’s head and I see a black wire, a catheter go into his neck. I automatically paw around for my own neck at the exact same spot.

  Something’s there.

  I struggle to pull it off but fortunately my fingers can’t grip properly. It hurts and my knees give way. “Frrr!” I say incoherently and I try once more to tear it out, the foreign thing intruding in my body and fiendishly going up to my brain.

  I pull and the pain drops me to the floor. I mustn’t pull it out, I know it’s best to leave it there, it’s not harming me now. The doctor was the one who harmed me and he’s unconscious on the floor. I can simply run away. The catheter must stay there.

  “Fff!” I blow out in protest, and I follow the catheter along my left arm. It’s stuck with transparent nude tape on my skin and it ends up in a device around my arm.

  It looks like those smartdevices that are so in fashion nowadays for joggers. It’s a little bit bigger and much tougher in build, wrapped around with soft plastic.

  I move my hand to tear it away from me but I know I must not. Something tells me I need it, that it was installed on me for something good. I can’t remember, my blurriness is vast. Both my vision and my memory.

  I mustn’t remove the device from my person.

  But I tamper with it. Something responds and a number shows up on a discreet screen.

  Epileptic threshold 43.10 ± 11 millicoulomb (mc)

  I stand up and scream. My skin is burning, my muscles contract without any control from me. I’m in amok, I run towards the door and stumble over a table with medical tools. The door is locked. I turn to the hopeless doctor, I run close to him and scream in his face. He stares up at me, terrified. Keys, I need keys. “Kmnnn!” I say to him and spit blood on him. He puts his hand in his pocket and quickly fishes out the keys to the door. I grab them and I go back to the door, but it’s as if I’m handling my limbs from ten metres away. The keys drop on the floor and I am furious now.

  I grab the metal stool and I slam it on the wall next to the door. Tiles break apart and fly all over. I foam and I strike again and again furiously. Ten, fifteen blows. I see brown bricks, old and crumbling. Dust has filled the room. I cradle the metal stool like a batter and strike the wall again with all my might. Bricks fly out the other side, and I’m somehow expecting bright light to shine through, the rays of the sun tracing the dust particles, freedom smiling to me from outside.

  But there’s only darkness.

  I go in headfirst and I open my way screaming, like being reborn out of an architectural womb.

  Epileptic threshold 53.10 ± 21 millicoulomb (mc)

  The building is practically condemned. Garbage, broken furniture, rotting walls. I ran barefoot and cross the hallways.

  I see no windows. I see no windows and I panic.

  “Bnn!” I say and drag myself on the walls of the enormous building.

  I find stairs and climb up. I see light and I rejoice.

  Light of day.

  I run upwards and I can almost taste f
reedom. I smile.

  I stop, turn around.

  What’s happening with the old man I felt behind? He’s like me, they’re doing to him the same thing as me. I have to save him, I have to help him.

  “Smmnn…” I say and I struggle to form words. My tongue hurts and it bothers me every time I move it.

  That old man… Maybe they did the same to him? Maybe I was stronger, younger, and was able to break the chemical and leather bonds?

  Something, something that doctor was doing to me. Yes, he held me captive, but maybe he was trying to cure something in me? Perhaps help me someway? I faintly remember some drugs I have to take often. Perhaps I should turn around and get them?

  I swallow. I cough, my throat is dry. “Stop… funny… words,” I say and shake my head left and right.

  Epileptic threshold 63.70 ± 23 millicoulomb (mc)

  I walk on the street and look behind me. The building that spat me out looks like an old factory. I’m somewhere unfamiliar, there are trees. I can hear cars on a road nearby. The asphalt burns on my toes but the warmth is comforting.

  I walk. Somewhere. No destination, just walking.

  I suddenly hear voices. I turn around, can’t recognise the place. Am I somewhere else? A group of young people drive beside me, two boys and two girls. They laugh and point fingers at me. “Look at that dirty nutjob,” the co-passenger says and empties a can of beer on my legs. It feels cold.

  “Come on, stop it,” one of the girls says. “Leave the poor guy alone.”

  The boy lights up a cigarette with a flourish and puffs a couple of times. “Yeah, I’m bored of him already. He’s a total zombie, man.” He laughs for everyone to see and with a flick he throws it at my bare feet.

  Epileptic threshold 23.10 ± 5 millicoulomb (mc)