The Endless Wars: The Descent (section 2)

Sorry about the late post. Been up to my eyeballs in Java code.

As I promised, I've been posting the first three sections of my book. Here's the second part, preceded by Laurance's sexy art.



Read section I here.

***begin section II***

II: The Knight and the Thug

Listening to his friend and roommate Milk Bone’s
pointless and sometimes idiotic babbling usually
cheered Taran up. This is why the two of them ended up
at a bar a couple of hours after Rosaline made her
exit. They looked very odd sitting together. Taran,
in all his plainness, with his short spiked hair, plain
white t-shirt and blue jeans, stood out in contrast to
Milk Bone, a short, wiry white guy wearing a backwards
blue road Cardinals hat, white wife-beater shirt,
sagging blue track pants, with broken teeth. He was
convinced he was a “gangsta,” as he put it.

They were sitting at one of the sidewalk tables
outside of their favorite bar, M.P. O’Reilly’s. It was
busy that night, and the two men were surrounded by
couples, either with their own table, or with other
couples. Taran tried his best not to notice this.

For November, it was pretty nice that night. A
little chilly, but tolerable. Taran was fine in his
Shell coat (from working there a few years prior,) and
Milk Bone slid on a Cardinals jersey, in addition to
all the fake jewelry in which he covered himself.

And, sure enough, Milk Bone was on a roll
tonight.

“So, I was like, ‘ight, bitch, you wanna do it
like that, that’s coo. I mean, shit, man, I ain’t
gonna have no bitch talk to me like that. Know what
I’m sayin’?”

As amusing as Milk Bone, or just “Bone”
sometimes, could be, when Taran was in as foul a mood
as he was now, he dreaded actual conversation.

“Sure, Bone, so what’d you do?”

“I was like, ‘Bitch! I am Milk Bone T! Ain’t no
woman gonna play Milk Bone! Fuck na!’ So, I grabbed
her by her nappy ass hair, flipped her around, started
fuckin’ the hell outta her, and she’s all like,” Bone
switched to his girly voice here, “‘Oh, Milk Bone!
Milk Bone! Fuck me, you big horny nigga!’ The bitch
was lovin’ it! But, that ain’t the fucked up part! Ya
ready for this shit?”

“Oh yeah, Bone. Hit me.” Taran snorted.

“So, I’m fuckin’ the hell outta her, right. And,
she starts panting like a dog. I’m like, ‘ight, that’s
kinda whacked out, but people do weird shit when
they’re fuckin’ sometimes, so I was like ‘okay.’ Then,
get this! The bitch starts fuckin’ barkin’, dude! The
bitch started fuckin’ barkin’!”

“No pun intended, right? ‘Bitch barking.’ Get
it?” Taran said, cracking a tiny smile, then realizing
that Milk Bone’s comprehension of this was nil.

Bone stared blankly before resuming his
narrative.

“I was like, ‘HELL NA!’ I saw that Snoop video
where he turns into a fuckin’ dog and shit! So, I’m
like ‘what if this bitch fuckin’ turns into a…bitch?!’
Fuck na, man! Fuck na! So, I fuckin’ kick her skank
ass outta my bed and I’m like ‘Bitch! Go back to your
damn dog house. See ya!’ Damn, nigga...”

“Ah, the epic tales of Milk Bone T. Did you ever
see her again?” Taran asked.

“No, man, but I did find some dog shit on the
front porch the next week, so-”

Taran held up a hand.

“I get it, I get it. Real quick, was wondering
if Rosaline had called the house phone recently? I
heard it ring a few times…just thought…” Taran trailed
off.

“Huh?”

“You heard me.”

Milk Bone sat there, hesitating.

“Nah.” he nearly whispered.

Taran couldn’t decide if he was surprised.

“What?” he asked anyway.

“Um, no.” Bone answered again, just as hoarsely

“Okay.” Taran didn’t know what else to say. He
didn’t even know why he bothered caring.
Milk Bone’s eyes suddenly widened as he leaned
forward and attempted to shift the conversation.

“Why? You still want her? Look, man, come with
me to Cherokee Street and we’ll get you a nice cheap
ho. I know this one chick that me and my brother used
to get. Her name was ‘Queeffie Lou’ or some shit, and
anyway, she fuck pretty good. She’s real cheap, man.
I remember this one time-”

“That’s alright, Bone. Don’t worry about it. I
just wanted to know if Rosaline had called.”

“Okay.” Bone stopped and thought. “So…what the
fuck is you gonna do about her?”

Now, it was Taran’s turn to stop and think.

“I don’t know, man. I do know I don’t wanna be
with her. I just want to hurt her. And hurt her. And
hurt her. Etcetera and so on.”

Milk Bone stared at the base of his beer glass
and admired the way the wrought-iron table as he tried
to be invisible and just let Taran do his thing.

Taran continued, “I know you don’t understand.

That’s fine. I don’t care. Revenge. That’s all it’s
about. As soon as I’m done, I can move on.”

“So, when do you think you’ll be done?” Bone
asked.

Taran paused and thought again. “I don’t know.
Whenever I’m fuckin’ done, man.”

“I’m just sayin’, dude. Don’t pass up a fine
little honey just ‘cause you’re trying to fuck up your
ex.”

“We’ll see, man.” Taran said.

“So, what have you done so far?”

“What do you mean?”

“You want revenge on the bitch, right? So what
have you done to get revenge so far?” Bone asked.

“I don’t know, man. Nothing yet.”

“Why?” Bone asked.

“I just haven’t had any good opportunities yet.
As soon as I do, though…”

“Taran, all you gotta do is get a ride out to
West County and-“

“Drop it, man. It’s my problem. Don’t worry
about it.”

“Whatever you say, dawg.” Milk Bone said, leaning
back and grabbing his Old English 800.

Taran sighed, grabbed his pack of American
Spirits, pulled one out, lit it, and looked around.

Almost as soon as he turned his head, he locked eyes
with a young woman in a black cloak. She smiled at
him. He just stared back at her.

She had small, delicate features, and was almost
painfully petite. Little locks of short brown hair
spilled out from under her hood.

“Ya know her, dawg?” Milk Bone asked, leaning
over and looking at her.

“No. I don’t know. She looks very familiar,
but…I don’t think so.”

She looked away. Taran and Milk Bone followed
her gaze. A man, close to Taran’s age, sat down with
her, but he was dressed in a rather outdated fashion.
He wore a white, loose fitting blouse that was covered
with a leather vest. His hair was pulled back into a
ponytail and a thick, light brown beard covered his
face. It was as if he had just walked off a Gettysburg
reenactment.

“That blanket she’s wearing is kinda hot. It’s
all like ‘Dark Crystal’ and shit,” Milk Bone chuckled.

“It’s called a ‘cloak.’”

“Whatever. It’d look better balled up on my
floor while I fucked her.”

Taran shook his head. He looked back at the
woman. She was engaged in conversation with the oldfashioned
man next to her.

“I wonder who that guy is and why he’s dressed
like that. Must be an actor.” Taran pondered, turning
to Milk Bone.

“What guy?” Bone asked, looking around the young
woman.

“The guy sittin’ next to her, man.” Taran said,
surprised, and subtly pointed with his thumb.

Bone continued to stare at the girl, then shook
his head.

Taran rolled his eyes and drank his Bud Light.
Milk Bone shrugged.

“He is sitting right fucking next to her.” Taran
pointed.

Milk Bone looked at Taran, then cracked a
confused smile.

“Are you, like, messin’ with me, dude? Do you
really seriously see some dude over there, ‘cause
there’s nobody with her. That little girl is a-lone,
dawg.” Milk Bone said, looking directly at Taran.

Taran looked at the old-fashioned man. Something
was definitely odd about him. Not just his style of
dress, but something else. His skin was too white, but
there was more.

The man looked up at Taran and nodded, halfway
smiling.

“Hey, Bone, let’s go over and introduce
ourselves.” Taran suggested, standing up.
Bone grabbed his beer, tucked a cigarette behind
his ear, and jumped up.

The two men approached the young woman’s table.

She and her male companion looked up.

“Good evening,” she said to Taran, smiling at
him, “I’m Sasha.” she offered her hand at this, which
Taran graciously took.

“I’m Taran Walker. This is Milk Bone.” Taran
turned to the old-fashioned man, “What’s your name?”

The man smiled, leaned forward, and spoke.

“Can your friend see me?”

Taran looked at Milk Bone.

“Can you see this guy?” he asked, pointing at the
man.

Milk Bone shook his head, stared at the ground,
and mumbled to Taran.

“You’s gonna freak her out, dude. Don’t fuck up
my game, dawg. Knock off this invisible friend shit.”

Taran turned back to the man and shook his head.
The man began to speak again.

“I didn’t think so. He doesn’t strike me as one
of…the type, though it is hard to tell. I’m just
relieved that you’ve returned.”

Taran screwed his face up and looked at Sasha,
then back at the man.

“’Returned?’” he asked.

“Yes. Look, this is going to take some time to
explain. You’ve been drinking, and I’d rather wait
until you were sober. Can you meet Sasha and myself at
Coffee Cartel tomorrow at around six?” the man asked.

“Hang on. What’s your name and why can’t Milk
Bone see you?” Taran demanded.

“I think the more pressing question is-“
Sasha cut him off.

“Ghost, enough with this stoic crap. His name is
Richard Barrywood and your friend can’t see him because
he’s a ghost. The reason that you and I can is…well…
we’re different from Milk Bone. Look, Ghost here will
explain everything tomorrow.”

Milk Bone sat there, staring at the empty chair,
his eyes wide.

Taran turned to Ghost, annoyed.
“Guess what? I’m having sort of a bad day. I
had a bad breakup earlier, and have ZERO fucking
patience for more lies. And YOU,” Taran pointed at
Milk Bone, “I should kick the shit out of you for
agreeing with these people to play some kind of stupid
joke on me. I’m going home, and the next person who
tries to fuck with my head better be ready to defend
themselves. I’m out.”

Milk Bone stammered.

“Dude, I…I…I dunno shit about no ghosts, dude.
I’m goin’ witchoo.”

Sasha stood up.

“Taran, she wasn’t lying to you earlier. She
really loves you. She wasn’t sure of it, but now that
she’s lost you, she knows. She-“

“Sasha, stop it.” Ghost cut in.

Taran exploded at her, pointing a finger at her
as if it was a dagger.

“Don’t talk to me about Rosaline like you know
her! I swear to God, I don’t hit women, but I will
knock your fucking head off if you don’t-“

Milk Bone grabbed Taran and started dragging him
away. Taran struggled, trying to wrench himself free.
People at other tables watched the scene, whispering
between themselves.

Suddenly, Sasha stood up and interlocked her
fingers, then flicked each one, one by one, from thumb
to pinky on each hand. She turned them palm up, her
fingers still locked together, then muttered, “Peace,”
and raised her hands up to her mouth. A little ball of
light formed. She pressed her lips together and blew.
The ball leaped out of her hands and slipped into
Taran’s chest.

Bodies flew away from the scene as people
confusedly began to panic. A roar began to pass
through the bar.

A feeling of severe intoxication hit him. Not
quite intoxication, he decided, but rather, peaceful
exhaustion.

“What…the…ugh…” Taran mumbled. Milk Bone looked
confusedly at Sasha, who was preparing a discreet exit
with Ghost, then hoisted Taran up by his arm, walking
him home.

***end section II***

There ya go. Again, check out the book here, and please please please help me buy my own ISBN. If you're not looking to drop $15.42 on a book, you can always snag the ebook for $1.25. I make the same amount on each version, so it really doesn't matter to me which one you buy.

I'd write more, but I got class all day today, and next to no time.

Either way, thanks for reading, and I'll have the third section up by Friday!

GO CARDS!

Thanks!

-Blaine