Hate Mountain

Vladimir; Episode 3: "Brain Transplant" is a Creepy Wikipedia Article

V

Oblivion.

The depth of nothing.

But then there was a spark of something.

A name.

Vladimir.

'I'm Vladimir, I'm 16, and I'm in a magic world.'

Sound.

He heard a clock ticking loudly, he heard a tea-kettle rattling, he heard a book page turning, and very faintly, someone murmuring.

Texture.

He felt a hard, grainy dirt floor. He felt a his hands pressed against his slowly beating heart. He felt the tumor-like pain pressing hard aginst his burning forehead.

Taste.

He had a sweet taste in his mouth, like a candy. Someone had fed him. OK, so he was not in trouble yet.

Smell.

He smelled the dirt; he did not really know what dirt smelled like, but he liked it. He smelled bread being cooked, and wood-smoke.

Sight.

All he saw was blackness; he had his eyes shut. Slowly, full of aprehension, he opened his eyes. He saw the sun streaming in though the white boardered window, with a bookshelf standing beside it. His eyes shifted to the right. What?

"Moral of the story, just because it's small, doesn't mean it's weak," said the fox that Vladimir charged, looking up from his book.

"What?"

"Feel free to stand up, just don't try that stupidity again"

Vladimir realized that his forehead was bleeding, but it healing. He was quite happy to see a grey fox from his world, it was much more normal than red people.

"Ahhh, I like foxes, they're pretty."

"Yeah, well, aparently you don't like them enough not to eat them!"

"I was hungry! I not from this world!"

The fox rose a section above his eye, rendering his face skeptical.

"I have a question," said Vladimir.

"Yes?"

"If you're a fox, how did you get me here, and how did you open the door, or make that tea, or read that book? You have no hands, just paws!"

It sighed, and shook its head.

"I, have learned to do all that with my mouth. Now it's my turn: are the Luvs and Hates still fighting?"

"Who?"

"The red people, the Hates, and the Scarlet people, the Luvs."

"I think so?"

"A shame."

Vladimir stared at the animal. He was hardly shocked that it could speak. He always figured that plants and animals could talk, but chose not to. He smirked, in this world, they came up to talk to him. In his world, they ran from him for an odd reason. It stank in there. He glanced around the room. What was it? Than, he saw it: there was a vat of diesel fuel in the corner, next to the television.

"Why do you have that gas?" he asked.

"I need it, for my Telescreen, my clock, and my televoice."

"Wow."

Vladimir opened his mouth to speak, but as he was about to start, there was a harsh knock on the door.

"Who is it?!" the fox called out.