Simon huffed once. The climb up the hills from the mountains behind had been quite strenuous and to be honest, the road ahead looked to be no better. It was cold. It was raining. The two combined to make snow in the upper elevations, here it simply made Simon miserable. At least the grungy cloak that he wore had two clasps in the front to keep the damned thing closed. That was good. Simon looked into the sky and was afforded a face full of rain for doing so. He coughed once and resumed his trek with eyes on the muddy road below him. He could feel the rain slog through his boots-

Well, they weren't really HIS boots, were they? They were simply the boots that Simon happened to be wearing at the time. And they really belonged to a brigand he'd met when he first got to...to wherever the hell this was. Simon had been passed on the road by several wagons ferrying people and goods to someplace up ahead. He'd politely stepped aside into the evergreens that lined the road and waited as they passed. The people sometimes looked at him, sometimes they ignored him. Often, they simply put their hands on their weapons as they passed. As if Simon were going to jump out and ravage their load of potatoes. Or whatever they were. Vrill had other notions of safety.

Turning of the Key By Joshua Trujillo

Part 1 - On the Lonely Road

He'd only been in this strange place, this world, for about a week. In that time, he'd killed. He hadn't actually taken the life of the people, but he let it happen and that wore at him. It wore like an iron weight, heavier than the sparkling chain that hung around his neck. Simon looked down at the chain. A simple link design that was also stolen. In fact, there was almost not one single thing that Simon wore that was his.

The leather riding boots that did well to keep the water in and the dryness out were from a guy he'd literally dropped in on. His under-tunic was from that guy too. It was not all that bad. Nice material, kinda like cotton. Strong too. And then that guy's buddies showed up and beat the living tar out of Simon. Kicks to the ribs, kicks to the face. Simon still had a black eye and several cuts on his face.

A sound made Simon come out of his thoughts. He stopped on the road and looked around. The muddy road widened several yards ahead to a clearing that went over the hill down to the other side and out of sight. Ever since he came out of the mountains, Simon had been heading steadily downward. The sounds came closer and he could make out the distinct plut-plut of horse hooves on the roadway. The rider seemed to be in about as much hurry as Simon.

"Vrill," Simon said quietly, "Vrill. Wake up. Someone's coming."

Simon hurried to his left into a small stand of pines as the rider came into view. It was Vrill's notion that standing in the middle of the road, or even off to one side might not be the safest or smartest thing Simon could do. Bandits, brigands, thieves, wandering idiots with super powerful weapons...All these things could be roaming the countryside. Simon had to, reluctantly, agree. He just didn't like hiding. People who hid had something to hide and Simon didn't. Vrill disagreed, saying that Simon had his life to hide.

Simon coughed slightly and watched as the mist ahead cleared to reveal not one horse, but several. The sounds came heavier as they drew near. They weren't dressed in uniform and had an air of nastiness about them. Not surprising since they were carrying enough weaponry to take on an army. Simon hid behind one of the larger pines and drew his hood closer over his face.

-Simon, why did you wake me up?- Vrill said from his scabbard at Simon's waist, -You KNOW I hate the rain.-

"Stuff it Vrill," Simon barked softly, "Bandits?"

Simon felt Vrill extend his consciousness into Simon's head, getting a look through Simon's eyes.

Vrill was something else that Simon obtained after he came to the world. So, this guy's buddies beat Simon, okay? Well, Simon's not the kind of guy to last from a severe beating. Five-ten, One-Eighty soaking wet and more of a thinker than a fighter. Simon passed out. And he was out for a time because when he woke up, the whole area within a good twenty yards had been leveled. Including the guy's buddies. There wasn't much left of them. One guy could be scraped up with a squeegee.

Now, it was bad enough that Simon fell on a guy and killed him, broke his neck or something, but now Simon was in the middle of what looked like a war zone and something was mumbling in his head. He searched around until he found a small scabbard underneath what was left of the biggest guy. He pulled out the dagger and gasped at the way the intricate writing melted back and forth along a blade of pure silver. The dagger's name was Vrill and he'd do anything to NOT be with the guys that had him last. Vrill looked around with Simon's eyes and realized that, perhaps, Simon wasn't a bad choice. Simon protested, saying that he hadn't done anything but Vrill wouldn't listen. Simon hadn't wanted anything to do with the bodies, but it soon began to snow and Vrill made too much sense. With Vrill's help, Simon was able to outfit himself.

Simon sighed and closed his eyes at the memory.

-Hey,- Vrill protested, -Open them things back up.-

Simon opened his eyes to see a face staring back at him. He began to start back, but was held in check as the person in front of him thrust a knife in his face.

-How many times do I have to tell you to keep your eyes OPEN!- Vrill yelled.

"Aw, shut up," Simon muttered as he raised his hands.

"Shhh," the man smirked at him.

He yelled something back to the men on the roadway, who had stopped in their procession. One of the large guys near the front, Simon thought him to be the leader, yelled something back. The man waggled a finger at Simon, trying to lead him back to the road. He was a slimy type of person. The look of his hair and the smell of him in general didn't help either. He said something to Simon, to which Simon just shrugged and shook his head.

Simon stepped back out onto the road as the large man dismounted. He was indeed a large man, standing almost to the tips of his horse's ears. He sneered down at Simon and drew a dagger from one of the many scabbards on his horse.

-Don't let him see me,- Vrill whispered.

The large man said something. Like so many other things in this world, the language was one more thing that Simon didn't understand. Simon just tried to look small and miserable and hopefully not a threat so the big nasty people would leave him alone. At least the first two were successful.

-He's asking for money,- Vrill said.

Simon reached around his waist and took out the bag that contained his few coins, but couldn't hold on as the big man backhanded Simon to the ground. Simon gasped out in the mud as he turned over. The big man, cheered on by his friends, raised up to give Simon another blow.

What the hell was this? Everyone wanted to beat him up? Why? What did he ever do? Why was he being treated this way? A thousand hideous, angry questions shot through his mind at the same time...

Simon heard a heartbeat.

In that heartbeat, he heard a word. Time melted and slowed and Simon could see everything. He could see the rain, motionless as it hung in the air, transparent as glass. He could see the mud, like melted chocolate in the hot summer sun. He looked at the ugly bandits and could see them as they were. Children, thrown out of a town because they caused a fire where someone was killed. Instead of making reparation and rehabilitating them, it was easier to banish them. They were forced to survive on their own and became what they were.

He heard another heartbeat.

Now he saw the brigands as they rotted in their graves, worms crawling through their skin. One was bloated and bluish, as if drowned. Another was simply a crumbling skeleton. All hideous in the fraction of time, mocking their own deaths in laughter they directed at one angry young traveler from another dimension. Simon looked down at himself.

Simon was hearing his own heartbeat.

Simon's only possession floated an inch above his heart from the heavy links around his neck. It was a large silverish key. Not unlike the kind of keys one expects in pirate movies. Keys to an old treasure chest. This treasure chest happened to be something much greater. The key pulsed with a pink light that flowed to orange and fire on the edges of Simon's sight. The light flowed through the key and, at the same time, was repulsed by it. Simon reached out and took hold of the key.

As the last heartbeat commenced, a black fire spewed at nightmarish speed from the key. It covered the magical light and began to burn outwards. It hit the large brigand and ate away at whatever it touched until there was no more for it to eat. A flash of black light shoved Simon in the chest and something sprang from the recesses of the key. Vaguely snake shaped, it whipped through the air and head for the first living creature, which was the large man's horse.

The horse never even reacted as the snake blasted through it, taking out a section front the shoulders to the flanks. The snake, hideous and winged threw itself on another bandit and took his head in one fast, sharp tug. Simon blinked and the snake had shot through most of the bandits. Simon looked to the slimy man, who was the last man to fall. The look of utter horror that forever etched his face as he fell haunted Simon. Most of his middle was missing as the snake creature sped through him and off into the distance, back to the shadows from which it came.

Simon lay in the mud. The rain had resumed and it was pattering on his face, though it too was beginning to lighten. The heat from the surrounding corpses made the area feel a bit warmer, if smelly. In his right hand was the Silver Key. It belonged originally to...

Well, that too was speculation, but it was his great-granduncle that originally brought the Key into the family. Randolph Carter supposedly used it to transport himself to the place where the Gods reign. A place where all the questions were answered, and answers were never questioned. Eventually, Carter was supposed to have made his way back to his body, even though he supposedly spent several thousand years in the body of a sentient insect from a dying planet light years away.

Yeah, Simon never believed it either.

Come to think of it, Simon thought to himself, I was holding the Key the last time I was like this too.

"I wonder if that's what happened?" he asked no one.

-If you'd get off me, perhaps I can help.-

Simon smirked and reached behind him, pulling Vrill's scabbard from his belt. Simon set the Key on his chest and unsheathed Vrill.

-By the gods!- Vrill shrieked, -What in the Twenty-Three Hells happened here?!-

Simon sat up.

"Didn't you see it?"

-See what?-

"The creature."

-WHAT creature!?-

"Guess you didn't see it..." Simon muttered, "We're gonna need a bigger boat. Probably for all the mess too."

-Simon?!- Vrill stammered, -You're not making any sense! All I know was that big man, wherever he went, was going to hit you again. There was a sharp flash and everything went dark and then you ended up on your back. You bring me up and I see THIS carnage!-

The rain stopped. Simon brushed a hand through his wet hair. Steam continued to rise from the bits and pieces around him. The smell had been washed out of the air though, which was better.

-Was it that beast you invoked before?- Vrill asked cautiously, - The one that you used to save me?-

Simon nodded, suddenly very weary. He chuckled. Unsheathed, Vrill could 'see'. If that was the correct term for it.

-Um, Simon?-

"Yeah?"

-I know this isn't the best time to ask something like this,- Vrill began, -But...Are we going to...Um...Salvage?-

"From the bodies? Yeah, I s'pose we should."

-And it ISN'T like they're going to need anything anymore,- Vrill chuckled.

Simon sighed. More blood on his hands. Black and blue from the hurt...And now more crimson.

The heavy gray tunic shifted again as Simon walked along. It was one of the few items among the banditos that was either shredded or blood-clotted. Simon shivered again against the wetness in him. He felt wet from head to toe and everywhere in between. He hated this feeling and only wished to be back in his home in Ohio, safe and sound. It was a nice little house in a nice little town in which nothing ever happened. No one had even been killed in the town since an old man fell into his combine a number of years back. It was safe, it was warm and it was home. It also happened to be several hundred miles back and two dimensions over, but Simon cared less for that. He wasn't there. He crested the hill and stopped as night was drawing close.

In the small valley ahead, the lights from a town glittered faintly in the mist. Simon didn't know if they'd welcome a scrawny vagabond like him, but at least he had enough money for whatever. One of the bandits had quite a number of coins on him. Vrill inspected them and pronounced them fit to use. Simon wondered to himself what exactly that meant, but just dropped it. No sense in arguing when you're up to your ankles in gore.

The town was perhaps a mile distant and Simon huffed. It would only be a little bit more of a trek down to it and he thought he could probably make it before it got too dark. And maybe even he could stick around the town a couple days and find someplace to go from there. The darkness pressed down on him and flowed into the valley as Simon began again.

Joshua "Gargoyle" Trujillo "Stone Cold Protector of the Righteous" "Owner of The Anime Bar & Grille - Type without Pants!"

Come visit The Anime Bar & Grille! Now with two locations! http://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/Towers/1509 and http://www.fortunecity.com/victorian/museum/1275