101 Ways to Skin a Hoodie

Part 2-Chapter 1

An animalistic screech and a flap of wings. Multicolored lights flash through my shut eyelids. The hum of traffic travels through my ear, reverberating into my cerebrum. It stinks. It stinks of trash. Like fish rotting, and cheese beginning to mold. And it's cold. Well, more like an autumn breeze variation of cold, where the brisk wind sweeps through your sweater and seeps into your bones, but you don't really mind since the fire is cackling inside and you're just a few steps away from the door.

But I'm not inside in the warmth.

The flap of wings once more, and a man screams in terror. A crowd gasps.

I wipe my eyes, and open them. I'm in an alley, and the bags of trash that I'm laying on are as soft as they are rank. My hands are numb, but not from the cold. I've been gripping the branch so tightly that the circulation in my hands has been cut off. I loosen them, if only slightly.

I guess... it wasn't some dream or silly flight of fantasy. Although I suppose that should have been obvious when I woke up in trash in... where am I? I mean, besides an alley, obviously. Not even an alley really, it's just a little wedge in between two massive highrise buildings. I gaze up at them, but there isn't much to see. Clotheslines are strung between balconies, unadorned in the night breeze.

I walk to the end of the "alley" and peek my head out. To the right there's a crowd of pedestrians dispersing, I assume the same one that was making all that commotion earlier. It's kind of rude though, how they're holding up traffic, which is stretching as far to the left as my eye can see. And- ah- that's odd. The cars are floating.

I duck back into the safety of the alley, trying to steady my quickened breath.

Tears start to well in my eyes again, and I brush them away.

Okay, okay. I need to think. How did I even get here in the first place? The last thing I remember is a brutal fight with the Author and then...

Ben's body. Floating out in the endless, decaying cosmos.

Alright, alright, fine. I can explain.

...

Who said that? I peer back around the corner, but by now even the crowd has dispersed. It just looks like a normal busy street. Well, except for, you know.

No, you fool! In your head, I'm in your head! Can't you read the italics?

...

I feel like I'm treading on the very boundary of reality, farther than I've ever gone before. I'll pretend to ignore that.

Hey, don't ignore me. I don't know what that contrived BS was that you finished me with, but you took the liberty of not killing me, so you're gonna have to deal with it.

"You're... the Author?" I find myself speaking aloud, even though this guy is clearly reading my every thought. It just feels unnatural to not do so.

Bingo! I'm going to have to eat up some of your headspace in order for my voice to be heard now, but I made it distinct enough so that any third party listening in won't be confused.

...

"I'll continue to ignore most of that... and I should, as that's not the main problem! What's going on here. I thought that our agreement was that you would send me home if I won." The tired, tired tears are coming back to my eyes.

Ah, yes, yes. I tried to, I really did. I only really came to again once I was already inside your head, and you were unconscious by then, but I started the transportation process anyway. However it looks like my powers are now mixed with your powers, as we share the same mind now, and it seems that your unconscious thought was more oriented to 'I want to be as far away from here as possible,' so now we're here.