Six Thorns in Sanity and a Rose

THORN 1: THE MAYFLY MACHINE (PART 2)

THORN 1: THE MAYFLY MACHINE (PART 2)

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"500 yen," said the plain and uninteresting convenience store seller. May fumbled inside her purse. She smiled to herself, remembering the time when even one yen was a banknote, having the value of 0.75 grams of gold. Now even a thin pictured book like this was worth 500.

"Here you go," she said, passing a 1,000 yen note to the young man.

Suddenly, a whisper came out of nowhere. "Death," it said.

"Huh, what?" May asked, turning pale.

"Here, your change," the man said mechanically, obviously bored and not hearing the whisper.

Just as she was about to take the coin, a shadow appeared out of thin air and coalesced into something that appeared solid and yet so unreal in appearance, something from another world.

It was a floating black robe with tattered ends and a cowl that showed only darkness.

In just the split second it appeared, it produced a thin scythe of metal stained by blood and tiny red bits and pieces.

May screamed. The unearthly figure raised its weapon over the head of the unsuspecting storekeeper and lunged at her. She leapt out of harm's way, stubbing her toe painfully against the pointed corner of a metallic shelf and landing awkwardly as a painful heap on the floor.

Time itself seemed to slow, and right at that moment, the world was lost in an almighty crash as everything around her was shattered, destroyed by a terrible, frightening force.

May had experienced many earthquakes before, but this time, it was something much more focused. She found herself staring at the still awkwardly-spinning wheel of a huge truck. Her face was merely a few inches from the wheel bigger than herself.

May did not dare to look. She did not dare to find out whether the storekeeper survived. But she can smell blood, and the simple fact that the man didn’t even have time to scream confirmed her fears.

She looked. A disembodied hand was close by, trailing blood, and she screamed. She screamed, stepping on crunched fragments of glass and running out of the store. She didn’t care of anything else. The world seemed to spin around her and there was only fear.

Rough, strong hands caught her. They forced her to face their owner: a grimy faceful of wrinkles with scruffy beard and hair that assaulted her sense of smell. “You cursed child!” The lips parted, revealing rotten teeth. “It’s your fault this happened! You’re gonna regret making a deal with the devil and trusting the machine! REGRET!”

May swept away the rough, callused hands, gasping in horror. She forced her legs into an unsteady sprint.

“Running away, eh? I know the truth! I know who you are! Renounce the machine! RENOUNCE THE DEVIL’S MACHINE!!!”

She tripped and fell on her hands. The old man picked her up roughly and shouted in her face, "I tried, and I tried to tell you all these years, and you NEVER listened!" But then a punch caught him squarely in the ear.

For all his vigor, the blow sent the old man spinning on the asphalt in a tangle of sinewy limbs.

The well-built young man throwing the punch yelled, “GET AWAY FROM HER!” He then threw a disgusted stare at his own fist.

"Th-thanks," May said with trembling lips.

“Shut up! YOU SHUT UP!” Much to May’s surprise, the man yelled in her face, his eyes reddening. “Why does it have to be you!? You killed my sister! I remember you! You’re the cursed child! Why does it have to be youuuu!?” The young man collapsed onto his knees, covering his face—he’s crying.