Author: Shade the Viridescent PM
For no apparent reason, in the same instant, eleven different people from various parallel universes and realms were snatched up. They are now stuck in a featureless white void not meant for life, and time is running out. NaNo 2011, rated M to be safe.Rated: Fiction M - English - Adventure - Chapters: 17 - Words: 53,326 - Reviews: 20 - Favs: 2 - Follows: 2 - Updated: 02-02-12 - Published: 12-24-11 - Status: Complete - id: 2982444
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Hey, y'all~ So, this is my NaNoWriMo novel for 2011. It's been completely unedited, and is in its raw November-y form. I'll be updating the whole thing hopefully before next year~ (Ahaha lies, this was supposed to be up three days ago.)
Anyway, I hope you enjoy it~!
Daffyd was hiding in his chair in the coffee shop. He waved at some of the regular patrons from his place in the old, threadbare armchair, and kept a careful eye on the door. Cindy, his one friend in Washington and the owner of this cafe, didn't really mind him hanging around, and the hipsters who frequented her small, literally underground cafe had gotten used to the puff of Daffyd's blond hair peeking over the top of the armchair, or of seeing the young college student curled up in the chair like a cat, eyes open and carefully watching the door even though he was tired.
He sat up and realized that his hair, normally in a gravity-defying dandelion puff resembling the hairstyle of Jareth from the movie Labyrinth, had been flattened on one side from when he was snuggling into the overstuffed cushions. He stood up and stretched, then walked up the stairs in the back. Cindy lived with her giant gorilla of a boyfriend up above the cafe, in the little flat on the ground level. She let Daffyd go in and out of her flat as he pleased. He made it to the bathroom and was combing up his hair when the world disappeared.
There was an explosion of white light and a small thunderclap as air rushed in to fill the void where the Bowie fanboy had just disappeared.
Across the continent, in his classroom at Northern Michigan University, Kazimir Sokoll was completely bored. There was a guest speaker today, but they were still expected to take notes. The old police officer who was speaking spoke too quietly, though, and Kaz couldn't hear a thing. Since he sat in the third row, this was no doubt a problem for the others in the class, but the old police officer still droned on and on about old cases he'd had to face—soft things like drunk teenagers and the occasional convenience store robbery. The most exciting thing he'd had to face was when the traffic lights had gone out and he'd dealt with the resulting chaos by sending out the other police officers. Kaz was sure that there were interesting things the old man with the stereotypical mustache full of gray could tell them, but he wasn't. Finally, after he watched the seconds hand on the clock seem to get stuck just before the time class was supposed to end, it was time to leave.
"Oi," said Professor Smith as the immediate shuffle for bags and books began. "What d'you say to Officer Brown?"
There were groans from the group, but the whole college class faithfully chorused, "Thank you, Officer Brown!" Kaz huffed in irritation as he stuffed his law books back into his overstuffed shoulder bag.
"How old does he think we are?" came a familiar voice from his right. The student stood with a jolt of surprise to see his friend James standing there. The shorter man had an infuriating grin on his face, looking very pleased with himself. His shirt was mostly unbuttoned and his short, brown hair was messy. There was a smudge of lipstick on his cheek.
Kaz raised an eyebrow as he hefted his bag. "How did you even get in here? You're not in this class."
James shrugged and waved flirtily at a similarly tousled-looking girl as she left. She waved back with a slight blush, and he grinned. "I snuck in. Found Olivia sleeping on her desk in the back."
The younger man groaned. "James, you can't keep making out with my classmates. It's weird. Last time it was Greg from my math class—now he won't look at me without blushing and looking away."
James pouted. "But they're hot. You can't blame me for—"
The explosion of white was the same, but as it faded, two little pops resounded around the empty classroom.
In his little flat, Kenneth was watching Tron when there was a knock on the door. "Can't be Jamie, he never knocks..." He paused the movie and went to the door in confusion.
"Hey, Wallflower," said the short blonde outside. "Where's James?"
"Hey, Theresa," Kenneth said as he stepped aside and gestured for the woman to enter. "Jamie's gone to bug Kaz, I think."
Theresa laughed. "Doesn't he ever get tired of chasing after that diver?"
Kenneth, reemerging from the little kitchen, shrugged. "I think he's mostly just doing it to annoy Kaz's boyfriend. Popcorn?" Theresa took a handful happily, but as Kenneth set the bowl down, there was a bright flash. When she could see again, the black-haired man was gone.
In another version of Washington, slightly but fundamentally different, a sandy blond man with pumpkin orange eyes was mixing together the batter for a cake when he disappeared as well.
Elsewhere, in a completely different world, a similar blond boy, this time with regular green eyes, was in the middle of an argument with himself when the light took him.
The Dusty Kitten was not a tavern known for its minstrel frequenters, but the innkeeper would have to admit that any of the musical wastrels who had sauntered in, drunk and thinking they could carry a tune, were undoubtably better than the tiny blond who was currently plucking at the strings of a lyre with a practiced, yet still awful, hand. A grizzled cat lay curled up at her feet, ears laid flat against its head to shut out the noise.
"Oh, for gods' sakes, Kylie, put down the infernal instrument! Xenocrates can't even conjure earmuffs for me." The outburst had come from a floating, translucent woman above a table. Sitting below her were four people with earplugs. The first man, skinny and in silly-looking robes too large for him, had the grace to look vaguely guilty as he shoveled food into his mouth at an alarming rate. Next to him was a very large, very buff, and very obviously drunk man, who was talking to everyone except the scary woman beside him, who was turning her imperial gaze firmly on the short blonde on the makeshift stage. A weaselly boy beside her was attempting to pick the pockets of the maids as they passed by.
The ghost-woman floated above them all with a huff of irritation. "Honestly, you're all useless." The woman below turned her baleful glare on the ghost, but she simply flicked some imaginary lint off her long dress with a "hmph".
"Oh, come on, Valencia," the blonde said, taking a break from the torturous sounds to grin at the ghost. "Loosen up a little."
Spots of opacity started to glow on Valencia's cheeks. "Loosen up? My dear Kylie, I don't think you understand my predicament!" Groans erupted from the table below her, but she paid them no mind. "Have you any idea how—" Before she could continue her rant, there was a bright white light and the enraged ghost disappeared mid-sentence. The occupants of the table turned to look at the scary woman.
"I did nothing," she said icily, glaring at them all.
In his greenhouse, Alynaron looked up from the exotic flowers he was watering with a confused expression. He hurried down the path to his house, not bothering to replace his coat. There was an impatient flutter of wings as he decided walking was too slow, and then the blond half-angel was on the roof. He clawed impatiently at a trap door in the shingles and dropped down into his study. His feet had barely touched the ground when he began rifling through papers and books, silvery feathers shedding from his wings in distress. He pulled out a dusty old book from the bottom of the bookcase and grimaced at it.
"It's always the really old, cracked, leather ones, isn't it? There should be a limit on dusty old books that end up being important." Grumbling to himself, he started to open it when his wings twitched. His amber eyes widened. "Oh, shi—"
The white light took him as well, leaving a rather offended-looking ancient book in angelic script, a faintly-glowing feather, and a plant mister.
"Your time has come," said the shadowy figure.
Lucien hastily stepped backwards, away from it. His blond hair was in disarray, and there was soot on his face and hands from when the creature, impatient with his magical attempts to delay it, had made his spell book combust. "No, it can't be, we haven't won the war against the Jaen Empire yet. You can't take me."
There was an irritated crackle from the vaguely humanoid shadow, and a fire spurted from the front of Lucien's shirt. He slapped at it with a surprised yelp and dove for the ground, rolling around in the damp dirt to put it out. "Ok," he said, panting, "your point has been made."
In a voice like the screeching of metal on metal and the hiss of a newly-forged sword, the shadow spoke again. "Come. We will not tolerate further delays." When Lucien took his time standing up, the shadow growled and twitched its 'hands'. The prince was dragged to his feet with a small cry by the sensation of ropes around his wrists and neck.
He rubbed his neck and eyed the figure warily. "Duly noted." He moved to take a step, and the world pitched and rolled around him. His eyes widened. "What have you done?" The world was disappearing in front of him in great swatches of white, like someone was erasing patches of scenery and sky. The figure was erased as well, and as the last patch of dark night sky disappeared, he knew no more.
Somewhere far away from where the prince had just disappeared, a light began to shine around a pile of bones, picked mostly clean by the various wildlife. A human outline glowed white around the skeleton, gaining muscle and flesh before the entire thing disappeared in a small clatter and scream.
"Mr. Vincent? Phone call for you."
The blond man spun in his comfy office chair to face his telephone, where the message from his secretary was issuing from. He pushed the button on the intercom. "Thanks, Sirius," he said. He picked up the phone, noting with a grimace that the number on the ID was that of the Chief of Police. He really didn't like the older man, but it was just something he had to deal with. "Yes, sir?" He was silent for a moment, then covered up the mouthpiece of the phone with his hand and swore in a low, steady stream of Welsh. He uncovered the phone when he was done, glaring a hole in the ceiling. "I apologize, sir. Yes, sir, I realize that the witness was extremely important. Yes, I'll find her." He waited another moment. "Y-yes-yes, sir, but I don't think you understand that we are dealing with an ex-spy, who has possible intelligence on—"
A dull, pounding ache started in the detective's head. It felt like something was thumping against the inside of his skull. He thought he could hear a very confused voice speaking in Welsh, but he shook his head and brushed it off as not getting enough sleep. This case was really taking it out of him, and—
Now the world was going blank—
He tried to change the line, but the phone was disappearing in front of him—
His hand was gone, his arm unravelling before his eyes—
In the brilliant white flash that followed, brighter than the rest, there was the brief outline of a human skull that shone with a dull green light all its own before disappearing as well.
Thank you for reading~ Please review! ^ ^