Memoirs of a RAFian

[Cloak]

Maybe subtly, but don't worry about the Black Mercy, it's now truly extinct. Unless I change my mind . . .

And that's why my sig is the way it is. I used it whenever I posted a new song adaptation.

Now, tomorrow, don't expect chapters until late. Meeting about job benefits in the morning, Creative Writing, then work. Oy.

CHAPTER TWENTY:
Reflections on Desires

Cloak was alone in his thread. He had bid Shadow a fond farewell as she returned to the Nexus and her parents.

Parents . . . Cloak closed his eyes as he reflected upon this. His parents . . . he was an orphan. Unwanted by his mother, unknown by his father.

He bowed his head as he placed his left hand on the cloak fabric-lined wall.

He took a deep sigh as his thoughts drifted back . . . back . . .

***

Cloak was in his mother's miserable shack again. He had just awoken.

Seven AM, the usual lineup.
Start the chores and sweep 'til the floor's all clean.
Polish, wax, do laundry, mop, and shine up.
Sweep again, and by then it's only 7:15!
So, I'll read a book,
Or maybe fifty-three.
I'll add a few new stories to my gallery.
Must not get in a snit.
I'll cook and basically . . .
Just wonder when my life will begin?

Then, after lunch, it's cleaning galore, and baking --
More day? I could do with less.
The garbage needs taking,
Then I'll squirm, maybe writhe.
Deeply sigh, under such duress.
And I'll reread the books.
But I haven't time to spare.
I'll scrub the walls some more.
Probably missed a spot somewhere.
Still stuck in the same place I've always been.

I just keep wonderin' and wonderin'
And wonderin' and wonderin'
When I my life begin?

And there they are.
The realm lights right there.
It's not really fair.
What is it like
Out there where they glow?
Now that I'm older . . .
Maybe Mom might just . . .
Let me go. . . .

She, of course, forbade it. So Cloak went anyway. He became a RAFian, much to his mother's distaste and chagrin.

***

He did not know why his thoughts always drifted back to that place. He did not know why he did this to himself.

He sighed deeply, opened his eyes, and sat on his bed. His tail hung lifelessly on his right, danging slightly over the bed.

Time to face facts. He clearly was not meant to get married, to have children of his own.

What Walker woman would have him, anyway? He was carrying tons of emotional baggage, he was broken. Sure, he was mending himself slowly, but not quickly enough.

Besides, his name was a joke in the Nexus by now. The Realm Walker who prefers the company of Realm Dwellers to their "own kind".

He would just have to come to terms with it one way or another.

[redtailedsaffa]

I sang it. And you never know, maybe life will give you a plot twist of its own.

Also, PDF:

[Cloak]

Right, currently planning the chapters of Book CCXVII ("In Essence") -- it's gonna be one of those books that write itself. And two more book ideas!

• Book CCXVIII: "Curses!" -- The RAFians fend off an arai infestation.
• Book CCXIX: "The Mutagen Menace!" -- A mutagen gun wrecks havoc.

Don't think I've rehashed anything. At this point, it's easy to do.

BOOK LII:
RAFIANS ALIVE!
Chapter One:
Openings

A little boy named Preston
Found out a secret this year.
He was once head mod
When RAFians ruled the world.

Now, a sorceress named Queen Scarab
Tries to get him day and night
But Preston has four guardians
To protect his very life.

He has the RAFians.
(From 2013AD.)
He has the RAFians.
(To protect the new Richie)
He has the RAFians.
(By Jetson Bay.)
He has the RAFians.
(Protectors of the world today.)

He has the RAFians.
(From 2013AD.)
He has the RAFians.
(To protect the new Richie.)
He has the RAFians.
(By Jetson Bay.)
He has the RAFians.
(Protectors of the world today.)
(RAFian Way.)
(RAFians alive!)

***

The world was very different now. Being 7013AD would do that. It was a world that was a perfect fusion of "Jetsons" and future "Ben 10".

A boy, twelve, with distinct locks of hair protruding below his hairline. His name was Preston. Preston Colins. He was riding a hoverbike -- a norm for the time.

Little did he realize what fate had in store for him.

[redtailedsaffa]

No, you haven't. And I just realized who the arai are... Oh my, yes. Have you read House of Hades yet?

[Cloak]

Going through my first reread now.

[redtailedsaffa]

Oh, just noticed the new chapter. Are we dealing with future RAFians here, then?

[Cloak]

Future RAFians, you say? (Psst. The song adaptation has all the clues. Granted, they're still vague.)

CHAPTER TWO:
Familiarity

Preston headed over to the Museum of National History, racing a friend on a hoverboard. They were twelve-year-old boys, and they were at the point of their lives where they were showoffs. They were trying to outdo each other with tricks on their respective hover vehicles.

It was all good fun, the joys of youth.

Anyway, the proceeded toward the tiered steps that lead to the building composed of ancient architecture. Once inside, they toned down the horseplay considerably, and began to to attend to the reason that they came -- a history report on the 21^st century.

"I still don't get why we need to know about those bodunk times." Preston's friend, Billy Cassacyd, said.

"Best to know the past," Preston said, "to prevent the mistakes of the past from recurring."

"Geez, you got serious all of a sudden."

Preston blinked. He realized that Billy was right. Preston decided he should loosen up and stop being uptight.

Then they came to the Hall of the RAFians. There was a tour going on --

"-- Soon after the Black Mercy debacle, the RAFians manage to capture and slay the evil goddess of malice." she said.

"Wait . . . she wasn't a goddess . . . Malice . . . was her . . . name," Preston murmured.

"And you know better than the tour guide?" Billy teased.

"But . . ." Preston said, uncertainly, as the tour guide continued, "Then after the twelve gods merged into one --"

"C'mon, 'Ton," Billy said. "Let's get this thing done."

But Preston was still unnerved. He felt that he knew for a fact that Malice wasn't a goddess, but didn't know why.

"Lookie here," Billy said, pointing to the nearest exhibit. "'Hieroglyph of the Head Mod of RAF -- Head Mod Richard.' Look at this, Preston."

Preston was looking at a book written in a strange script, it was translated on the placard -- "Memoirs of a RAF"*. "Huh?"

"Take a look at this Richard guy," Billy insisted. "He kinda looks like you."

"You think so?"

Preston looked at the artifact for so long, Billy eventually had to leave. Preston did not know the draw . . . but he reached out as if to touch it . . .

---
*Yes, I namedropped the title of the series. So sue me. ;-)

[redtailedsaffa]

This book is breaking the fourth wall somehow. "Twelve gods merged into one"? Wait, I've heard that reference to another book...

[DinosaurNothlit]

Oooh, it's already getting interesting.

*thinks about how cool it would be to see a museum exhibit about RAF* 

[Shenmue654]

I'm horrified. o__O

Someone else actually enjoyed watching Mummies Alive. XD It's like my weird 90's past of bad Saturday morning shows come back to haunt me.

My young mind remembers this one as being pretty badass, so it'll be interesting to see Cloak riff on it. (Especially since it was probably awful. xD )

[Cloak]

It really wasn't, Shenmue. But, sadly, it was mostly dismissed as a "Gargoyles" clone. Pretty much a similar situation as "Street Sharks" and "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles".

Might be a bit short.

CHAPTER THREE:
Encounters

Preston quickly withdrew his hand. What was he doing? There was probably a rule against touching the exhibits. But still his gaze was drawn to the exhibit. There was a . . . a familiarity to it. But that was ridiculous. How can anything from five thousand years ago be familiar? The thought was utterly ludicrous.

And yet . . .

Preston forced himself to look away, only to find yet another exhibit to ensnare his interest.

They were four oblong, egg-shaped stone structures. They were at least nine feet long, two feet diameter. According to the placard, the RAFologists were unsure of their function or true significance. One theory believed them to be ancient altars to pagan gods, but this was contested by a myriad of other theories, some really quite farfetched.

"They're all wrong . . ." Preston said. Then he gazed over to the stone structures, looking at them intently. "They're . . . they're . . ."

Preston's eyebrows knit together as he tried to penetrate why doctorate-holding RAFologists were wrong. But he did not seem to be aloud that information, and it gave him a headache the more he tried.

"Ow," Preston said, massaging his temples. Then he shot a look towards the stone structures. A small pulsating light was emanating from within the things. There were vague silhouettes of --

"Excuse me, young man," came a voice. Female. "But the museum is about to close. You will need to vacate the premises."

Preston turned, and saw the Revonnahgander curator wearing what appeared to be a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. Next to her stood a woman in a dress rather like Delphox fur, only cobalt blue with gold trim. This woman was human, and wore her hair in elaborate curls.

"Oh, Bruk Lar," the human woman chided good-naturedly, " what damage could one preteen do to a museum?"

"Sorry, Director, but the rules clearly state --"

"I'll keep an eye on him, then." she said. "Don't worry, I'll call his parents to come and get him."

Preston felt a chill race through him when he noticed the womans genial demeanor did not reach her hungry eyes.

"As you wish," the Revonnahgander said, having noticed nothing out of the ordinary in the director, "Director."

Then she left, and Preston was sure that this woman, this director had less than pure motives for him. The woman did not speak until the Revonnahgander left, but she eyed the boy hungrily.

"Ah . . . you tense up. You remember, don't you?" she said. Her voice had abandoned the pretense of geniality, but became a snarl with a hard-edge. "Don't you . . . Richard?"

[Cloak]

Okay, gonna go ahead and post another chapter.

CHAPTER FOUR:
Backstory

"I . . . I don't . . ." Preston spluttered, "I'm not Richard!"

The museum director, Director Scarab, laughed mercilessly and mirthlessly. The sound was chilling. Preston backed away a few paces.

"Still resisting the knowledge, the memories, I see." she said. She laughed that hoarse, humorless laugh again. "Still trying to protect your reincarnation. Richard is dormant within you, Preston."

Then Director Scarab changed. No, literally changed. Her dress vanished and she now had a body similar to a shiny Greninja, a scarab-like head with a human mouth whose skin was chalk white -- as it from a corpse or mummy.

"Oh," Preston whimpered.

She laughed again. She said, her voice more breathy now, as if betraying her age. "Oh, yes. That's right. You resist knowing just how I got this way."

She took a step forward, and Preston scrambled backward, falling onto his backside. This illicted another laugh, and Preston caught a whiff of it. A Muk was more fragrant.

"Shall I tell you?" she mused menacingly. "Oh, yes, indeed, I think I shall."

Preston scrambled backward -- but there was nowhere further back that he could scrabble back to.

"I was once human," she began breathlessly. "Similar to you, but far superior. Yet, I was changed when your precious RAFians -- yes, boy, your RAFians, what did you think the "R" in "RAF" came from? "Royal"? Honestly!"

She gave a wheezy laugh, and Preston wondered if this awful monstrocity was nothing more than a disguise intended to terrify him. But, it was indeed queen Scarab's true forum.

"But I was weak then," she said, she was waxing nostalgic now. "I had no vision beyond halfhearted attemprs to retake the forum. But then one day, the day that that malicious, hostile interdimensional alien was killed -- her name was Malice, I believe -- suddenly things became clearer to me."

Preston was terrified, he was only twelve after all. He scanned the area for any exit strategy, but could not come up with one.

"I do not know what caused it," Queen Scarab continued monologuing. "But I knew it allowed me with the idea to drain your power, Richard."

Preston didn't bother to protest.

"Aloth and Yorick thought it was too risky. They had to go." she said. Then she seized Preston round the neck as he tried to slip by her to escape, and said, "How rude! I wasn't done with my story!"

[redtailedsaffa]

I love reading this in their voices. Well, at least what I think their voices would be.

[Cloak]

Yes. And I still have a faint hope of someone doing a graphic novel on this series, but that would take someone who could draw well. That's certainly not me.

And I would post another chapter . . . if I wasn't so tired.

[redtailedsaffa]

Me neither. I can barely draw a head and a body standing stiff straight like they're singing the national anthem. Which is a pity, because Memoirs graphic novels would be awesome.