Tim was tired of the virtual worlds. Sitting in front of a PC playing WoW or Call of Duty night after night just didn’t give the full kick anymore.

Neither did Live Role-Playing with Vampires the Masquerade where he would dress up as a vampire and fight and infiltrate other players in the game. No, he needed something more. Something real. Being a wiz-kid and very computer savvy, he tried hacking some accounts here and there. Although real, it didn’t give the real rush either. Being a James Bond or a Jason Bourne in real life would surely be the best of all. But with neither the muscles to show or the guts to dare, he knew he couldn’t do anything that wild. He had to settle for something a bit less dramatic.

A friend of his had tried to get him into protesting some church. But he wasn’t much interested. Until the friend told him about a cat-and-mouse game of some secret service or something this church had. They actually had some intelligence agency inside the church that would harass critics of the religion. Now that sounded like fun. Some real action drama.

Tim trotted along for a protest. They were only 6 of them standing there in front of the church building. They were hiding their faces so that the church spies and agents wouldn’t learn of their real world identity. Tim got a slight Batman-rush going for a minute or so. He joined in and tried his best to keep up with the mocking of the church and their religion. Not that he cared much, but there was supposed to be some super-secret, mystery, agentry thingy, so he got in on the action. It was great when some PIs or spies or something got out a camera and took pictures of the protesters. That was at least some action. And then there was all the tales about this agency going after some of the fellow protesters, and he felt part of something dramatic. He felt alive. And then there was caek. Delicious with chocolate cream on top. The social bonding also became important. He felt he belonged to a group. Individualistic, anarchistic but like-minded.

And the church’s Office of Secret Action didn’t let him down. They were busy creating enemies of the church like himself. And they were actually spying on him! He felt thrilled and wondered if he should call himself “Jason Bourne” on their Internet forum.

A few months went by and Tim…

Oh, the story stopped. What happened to Tim? I don’t know. You tell me. Leave a comment and help co-writing the rest of the story.

Living life. Deciding I can choose.
Making choices. I can win. I can loose.
Playing life. Painting another theme.
Looking ahead. Deciding I can dream.
In a dream. Deciding I can fly.
No more looking at days go by.

Above

Artwork created using Vistapro and GIMP.

Inspired by my recent red creation, here is a blue. Yes, I’m on a creation spree 🙂

Once in a blue

This is only the start of a Science Fantasy book I started on many years ago. It’s set in a 1900-1910 technological era but with magic still a force to reckon with. Putting this prologue out there might just get my motivation to some day complete the book.

“The game is set. Only his will shall decide the outcome”. The heavy velvet robes swayed as the two contenders rose from the table. Matching their wits and their insights was not uncommon. But never like this. Never had they played the game encompassing such a great arena and with this many elements. The game of life itself required more than sets of ivory and ebony pieces and a marble board. It included will – whatever that was – free or not; The proof will be the outcome.

The dark eyes of Salidus Taramostran rested for a while on his adversary. Temor Akatraz did a graceful job of hiding his emotions. A slight tremble around his nose however revealed the suspense. A brilliant mind, a genius scientist, physicist and mathematician. He knew a thousand ways a man could go mad and a couple of how to cure him. Temor could outriddel any man alive. A champion chess player, loving the game, loving the win. He was never a nerd, he knew his ways around women. Many a woman had fallen for the blue eyes, fair but stern expression, never revealing his true self. His body almost as fit as his mind. Stubbornness had gotten him far in life.

None of them looked nearly as old as they were. They still possessed that zest in life, that willingness to pick up the glove and to carry forward to victory. Both were intent on winning, if not for the same reasons.

Salidus’ gaze wandered, to other places, as usual. In and out of reality, of fantasy. An artist at heart, feeble to certain eyes, strong to others. A sort of mystery hung around the wise man. Creepy, yet calm. He was already leaving the game for the love of something else – a poem perhaps? Or maybe a little tune, humming ever so slightly in his mind. In stark opposition to Temor who never would leave this game. It would haunt him like that annoying little tune humming and chanting to rub away any lack of irritation. Temor wondered: “Did I pick the right boy? Of course it’s impossible to know on beforehand, but did I predict this one right?” The thought tormented him. He wanted to be sure like in chess where he would always hold more possibilities in his mind at once than any other man or creature. “Chess… but this is different… maybe… or maybe not. My predictions must be right, and so this is no different than a game of chess. I know the state of this game as we started and I know the rules. The outcome is bound to be set. It will be mate, for sure”.