Saturday, June 10, 2017

Darius Ales - "The Limbo Passions" Chapter 2 (Short Story)

Chapter Two: Tongue Tied

Living-dead air whales continued to swim by the Nexus gate as Limbos phase shift started. Darius hardly noticed as he continued to puzzle over the red box.

"Hmph, this piece of shit has got to work." Almost unaware, Darius didn't realize an illegal transport across the veil was in progress. His soul tracker started flickering. "Alright, I know you're here somewhere. I command you come forward by the power of the reaper!" Darius shouted.

Lighting crackled as waves of dust and weirding power gushed all around. At the same moment, a specter falling to the ground before him sprang to form. It was the beautiful Leah.

Darius, taken off guard quickly recomposed himself. The surrounding areas solidifying after the spectral displacement fields.

Silent, and ghostly voluptuous as ever, Leah rose to her feet in full form. "If you really wanted to see me so bad, all you had to do was psyvamp me."

"You can't be running fucking souls across the barrier with a permit. Limbo law strictly forbids it," Darius spoke coldly, trying to hide his obvious pleasure in her presence.

Without even flinching, placing her hands upon rocking hips, "It's that Avee again, isn't it?"

The look of shock across his face being read so well, "She doesn't have anything to do with this."

"Somehow I don't believe you. As far as my soul transport, if I get paid, you get paid. That was the deal." Leah began to lip dis-satification at it overbearing.

"Look, the ancients set things up for a reason. When Limbo's center relic aligns with the Nexus, that is when you run souls. No fucking before or after. Then and only....."

Cutting him off immediately, "I know how shit operates her. It's been thirteen death cycles. What, 13,000 ages right?"

Darius fingering the red box in his hand, "13,000 ages to many."

Leah, "Once you're dead, you're dead. At least be grateful the illusion of living gratification exists here before you have to cross the final death threshold."

As much as he knew she was right, he asked her, "You got my fucking share of the cut?"

"Aaaah, you want some more soul-spin, right? My place, one hour."
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