La vie en mort (English Version)

La vie en Mort

One kiss can be enough to wake you up. Not a kiss like the one you yearn for, not today at least. And I think, in fact, that never again... It's more like a tingling on the lips being wetted with the fiery touch of a malinatl, which you hold by the hand. A man—if you can call this a man— holding a cup as elegant yet mournful as himself.

How did you end up here? Surrounded by creatures from different places of Spiraldream, with such different expressions, but with an unpleasant common factor: a molynfluenz drink in hand. That bar was always full on that date. But in all honesty, how could you blame those present? That's just what happened in Vitamorte: the city that lives and dies. You made yourself comfortable in the seat, as if that made a difference. You didn't want to fall into the seductive trap planted by the fruity flavors you had in your hand. People said it was better to stay conscious when it happened. Honestly, you don't know whether to believe it or not. But when you look around you, with all those people lying on the floor with magical insomnia, something tells you that it's better to be sober. You'd hate to be sneezing mystical smoke, or to have frogs coming out of your ears ... And you believe it's a good time to reflect. Ideas flow best when you're about to die. That's why you put your malinatl aside.

How did everything come about so quickly? Was the Withering Day really here? You checked your calendar for the hundredth time, but everything seemed to indicate that it was true. Every year it became harder to accept. You asked the man beside you for the date, a modivathian with patchy skin.

"What a stupid question" he grunted, after a hiccup that caused a floating light to come out of his mouth ". It's Withering Day".

You turned your head. He might have been right, but he had magical insomnia. Should you have believed him?

"Face it, my friend" the waiter addressed you, with such melancholy in the depths of his six eyes ". Everyone else already did"

He took your glass and poured more malinatl. Before you could pull out your bag of diamond spheres to pay, he stopped you.

"This one's on the house"

You sighed and stared at the drink for a long time. You had a big gulp. It tasted like home... It tasted like Chaak. And then you saw it... Like water from the lakes of your home planet, an image was projected from the glass. There was something horrible in your reflection: A skull that, while full of color and living patterns, the color of its life was nowhere to be seen. The shot you swallowed didn't go to your stomach, because you didn't have one. It disappeared halfway, below the ribs. You had no tongue, no muscles, no skin, no hair, no ears, no eyes. Just two redish, smoking grains that floated in the gloomy voids where the eyes were supposed to go. The reason why your 5 senses functioned without the necessary organs was a mystery, just like everything else in this wretched galaxy.

You rearranged the tzemepil petals that sprouted from your ribs, through a hole in your gabardine, outside your chest pocket. They were a unique trait of your species, and only seemed to grow in the coldness of your bones. They seemed to be the only living things that wanted to be around us.

You played with the liquid in your cup, moving it from the outside with your skeletal fingers. It was like a tide...just like the one you created when you were first taught to use your hydrokinesis in Incot City Bay. Your species, thanks to Spiraldream's "fun" genetics, decided to be completely different from the rest of your family's. They were all Chiokas, with snowlike faces and white, fine, vaporous bodies with lunar characteristics and powers of the same type. You, on the other hand, had the misfortune to be born a Kalakah, a multicolored skeleton, with several bones lit by blue flames that didn't scorch, but burned without exception upon them. A monster amid royalty.