Alexander Vorsche And The Nine Worlds: The Snake's Mark

I Got Killed By An Elf

Okay, you're probably thinking: how does someone get wrecked by a small, pointy shoe wearing, toy making little person? First off: They aren't small. Secondly, they definitely aren't your average 'Santa Claus' minions that your parents told you about as a kid. Sadly, the idea is a whole lot different. I'm Alexander Vorsche. If you wanna shorten that, do what everyone else typically does and call me 'Alex'. Under no circumstances should you address me as 'Alexis' or 'Vor-Vor'(it has happened and I hate it). I already hate my name enough. Well, today, you are gonna learn how I got killed by an elf.

It was an average day in the streets of Manhattan, busy lights and cars streaking through so fast that every sound you heard of them speeding by could nearly make you deaf. Homeless people were stacked by wherever an alley was located(and there were a lot of alleys in Manhattan) and looked to be eating what looked like leftover subways that they pulled out of a trashcan. How do I know? Because the wrappers were all crumbled up and the sandwich bread had been soggy and mushed. The sad thing was that everyday joggers would come through and run them over, sometimes knocking them with the food they find and not give a care in the world about even saying, "Sorry, didn't see you there even though you were right in front of my face". That was enough reason to give a guy like me the obligation to sock em' in the face. Instead, everyday, I scurried on to my rented apartment across from those luxurious penthouses I wish I could afford(not to mention I can barely pay my own rent). It becomes a problem too when your landlord is constantly banging on your door repeatedly to remind you that the rent is one the way. One time, I barely paid it in time. However there was a nice next-door neighbor who allowed me to work for her in order to make a little more money then what my job pays(if you even call volunteering at a local thrift shop a job). Her name is Vanessa and she is one of the people that refer to me as 'Vor-Vor'(again don't you dare). She is a tad older then I am, me being only 18 and she is 22. She was exceptionally pretty though, aqua blue irises with golden hair that she always seemed to keep in a French braid. She had a fine figure as well; one that made her seem like she was working out while she never really did. It was simply natural.

Me, on the other hand- I had to work to stay in shape because of the huge appetite I have. I ate a lot, but like I said; you could never tell(probably my metabolism). I am like your  average skinny guy with curved, wavy red hair and hazel eyes. I gained a habit of always dressing in black clothing, preferably leather jackets and joggers, with a backsack I kept on me for food and stuff. Where I got my features from was unclear. Back when I was still in my adopted family, I was told that my parents had gone missing and for some reason I had just.. ended up there.

It was time for me to go and do work for her. All I did was help her move boxes that she brought home from her job(or so she called it). It was always full of weird stuff. Specifically, old books that had words of some ancient language I couldn't read nor understand and found it hard to believe that she took the time to as well. But, strangely enough she read it like a pro. And when I say 'ancient' I mean; stuff you see like on really, REALLY old paintings and stuff.

Once I got to my apartment and reached the specific room number, I knocked only a few times before she opened up and much to my inconvenience she said, "VOR-VOR! I was beginning to think you forgot about me." She said. "I couldn't possibly forget about my favorite payer. Always eager to come and do work." I replied with a little sarcasm but I don't think she got it. Instead, she opened up her door fully and invited me in with a smile.

"Unbelievable." I mumbled to myself completely shocked at the fact that she had dozens of boxes toppled on one another. This was the most that I had seen all week. This was what kind of gave me the creeps about her. How can a girl so pretty be so much of a hoarder? I mean, I understand that this was job-related but the boxes were so huge in quantity that I nearly hit my head just walking in. She couldn't be like those average early twenty years, just finding their way into adulthood and still watching shows like 'Iron Fist' and 'Jessica Jones' on Netflix because of the stress they get from being away from mom. I bet you're like: 'Well, Alex, you're only eighteen so who're you to judge how someone four years older then you acts, huh?' Hey. I'm a lot more mature for my age.