The Land.

He was a tiny speck on the mutated landscape. He ran... from me. He ran and I followed. It has been over two decades since the chase began. We have turned into companions of sort- Him, me and the chase. The hate, fear and the thrill of the chase, binds us together in a bond strong enough to stand the test of time. In-fact time has ceased to be of importance. We have transcended time. Ah, the miracle of hate which is strong enough.
On that particular day, I came across a brook. As with every habitat in this land, that brook was infested or rather inhabited by mutated fishes and amphibians. At times, I feel as if I am the mutant in this land, that it is I who infests it. The brook rippled with his presence. A presence which had entered the realm of past tense not more than a day ago. His reeking scent was everywhere- on the rocks, the purple grass, the green clouds, the underground trees. It inflamed my hate. It was my fuel, my food and my inspiration. I decided to rest under the red shade of a rocky outcrop, where he had rested not a day ago. This land is so fucked up and it is perhaps, more beautiful than before! No, no, no! That is him talking. This land is evil! It needs to be purged! It needs to be purged of him! With a hand on the hilt of my dagger I drifted off to the land of the dreams. Each one of my dreams was real. Each ended with me sinking my dagger to the hilt within his chest. Each dream ended with the dagger piercing his black heart. Each one of them ended with his end. I could almost taste the satisfaction of witnessing the fear creep into his eyes at the sight of me. I could feel his defeat.

Wake up.

A jab. A punch. A jumble of claws and arms. A scratch here. Blood. The dagger finds the jugular. My breathing returns to its normal rate. The adrenalin rush passes by leaving behind a shivering me. I stare at the dead carcass of the mutant dog that had tried to attack me. Man's best friend. Ha! What a fucking joke!

I remember being almost a God once. Many years ago, I used to wander this land, hoping to find a cure for its illness. I was its savior to be. After all it was I who now possessed the dagger of The One God. The true God who came forth before this land was struck with whiteness. I was, therefore, his heir apparent. I used to look upon the creatures of this land with compassion. I wanted to make their pain my own. I wanted to assure them that I will make everything as it used to be once again.

On that night many years ago, I stood upon a flat rock, which elevated me some some fifty feet above the rest of the land. I raised the dagger to the orange skies, the dagger gleamed in the moon's bluish glow. A mutant hyena saw me. More importantly it saw the dagger. It climbed the rock, its belly touching the floor and its head bent forward in a posture of reverence. As it reached my feet, it raised its head towards me and instead of love and hope, its eyes held hate. A boiling, raging hate. My dagger went to work for me, while the mutant was still in mid-air, its open jaws aimed for my neck. As its headless body fell off the rock, I knew that there was someone else who wished to be a God. I became aware of him. He was a mutant. He wanted this land to accept this cancer. He wished for the mutants to stop fighting their illness. He had, it would seem, fooled some of the creatures into believing that they were an improved race. That their mutant nature was something to be proud of. He was one evil motherfucker. And when I glanced at the horizon, I saw him staring back at me, with a dagger of his own. He was there and he had a following. He was going to die at my hands. He would die before he could corrupt this already corrupted land. So began the chase.


p.s - To be continued...