Origins Stories

Inanis (Ocellus Part 2) - Cal

HELP I FORGOT I MADE THAT ELDRITCH HORROR THING OF CAL AND SOMEONE JUST LEFT A COMMENT AND IT REMINDED ME TO MAKE A PART TWO I MADE THEM WAIT 11 MONTHS AND I FEEL SO BAD SO I SPEEDRAN IT I'M SO SORRY-

I would also like to say that halfway through writing this I kind of lost a thought process so it's like, REALLY janky (I also haven't written in so long help) and I have no idea what actually happened here. But I guess in a way it makes sense considering this is like a weird fever dream. So if you don't know what's happening, it's okay because I don't either

AND YES I'M BACK I KNOW IT'S BEEN A LONG TIME

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Cold. It was cold. Everything was hazy and he couldn't tell where he was. The feeling was gone. No eyes. No "watching."

Cal's breath hitched. He felt as though he had cried, but he didn't recall such a thing. He didn't cry often. There was a distinct lack of weight around his neck. His hands felt cold and numb. They were shaking. Bandages constricting. What was he missing? The necklace. His necklace! Cal lifted his head, turning. He stumbled and rubbed his eyes. The edges of his vision blurred whenever he moved. This was...Atlantis. He was in the meeting room. Right? It looked exactly the same. But he was alone. It didn't feel real. Cal hesitated. There was nobody here, but he could've sworn—

The table doesn't look right.

Cal walked towards it. His legs felt numb and there was no resistance from the water.

He heard a faint ticking as he got closer. The top of the roundtable came into view. It was a clock. Rusted, gold gears clicking and stuttering as they moved. The water stilled.

The glass on the top of the rusted, roundtable clock was foggy and unclear. Overshot. Cal's hand reached to touch it. Crack.

The glass shattered. The water pulled back, pushing against Cal. His hands moved to shield his face, his footing unsteady before the force shoved him backwards. He couldn't breathe. He gasped, inhaling water. His eyes opened on instinct despite the fact it burned. The ticking sped up, the glass shards floating in the water, the hands of the clock pointing towards the wall.

Spelled out on the back wall of the meeting room, in misaligned and dismembered handwriting.

We're watching.

Cal screamed. Silence. Was the room getting farther away? Falling. He was falling. Where was his necklace? Hands found their way to his throat. Where was—

Dark.

He hit the floor. Walnut hardwood. Cal gasped for air, coughing. His eyes darted around the new room. He felt sick. Everything hurt, but he wasn't injured. Cal shot up, looking around. This was his bedroom. In his house. In England. Everything was the same as he remembered. Bed in the corner, dresser on the opposite side, desk and laptop in their same place. Clutter here and there, books piled on his nightstand, his mother's paintings hung on a wall, light filtering through the window. A white rug beneath his shoes, and dark beryl walls. It really was the same. He was in his bedroom in his house. His mother's house.

Cal couldn't bring himself to smile, but the nostalgia made him happy. Cal's hands found their way to his neck again to fiddle with his necklace. It wasn't there. Cal frowned, hands dropping back to his side before he started messing with his bandages instead. His vision made him feel like it had an odd filter on. Everything had that sort of surreal gaussian blur with the over-saturated colors.

A mirror hung up on the wall above his dresser caught Cal's eye. Did he always have a mirror there? He couldn't remember.

Cal approached the mirror, staring at his reflection. It was only then that he realized he was wearing his old clothes. His old faded blue, denim vest and white T-shirt with that black illustration on it. The black jeans too. Everything but his necklace. Didn't he give this outfit to...what was their name? I..I something. Right? Cal shrugged. It didn't matter that much.