The World of Myth Magazine

After a long chat about Michael and Fran's wedding plans, I decided to call it a night. They offered to walk me to the house, but I declined. I told them that I could use a good walk before returning home, which was partly true. Nevertheless, I wanted to get away and gather my thoughts about everything.

It's not every day that your wife comes back from the dead, and twelve hours later, you find out that your son was getting married, among other things.

My son walked me out to the street. I told him that I was proud of him and that he had become a good man, and I believed that he would be a great husband. Mike smirked; I knew he had something else to tell me. I couldn't help but flashback to when he was a child, and he was afraid to tell me something because he thought I would get angry.

I patted my son on the head and asked him what else he needed to tell me. He stared off into the sky for a few moments before he turned his attention to me. He said that to be a good man or husband was not something he feared to become.

He paused again, but this time it was longer than the first.

Finally, I told Michael just to tell me what he was so afraid of becoming. He did not speak right away and stared deep into my eyes. I could read my son; he was lost and needed the guidance of his father. I broke the silence and asked him again what he was so afraid of?

He began with how I was a good father to Maria and him, that I always put them first and that he could honestly say that I was his hero, his role model, and, most importantly, his dad. Together we had faced hordes of Unluckys and had stared death straight in the eye more than once. But, what frightened him most was not being as good of a father as I was to him.

Fran was six weeks pregnant with his baby.

We stood there in the moment without speaking. Eventually, the silence broke as I let out a soft chuckle. At first, my son gave me a questioning look but soon changed as I embraced him. I had to laugh; I asked him if that was what he was so afraid to tell me?

Michael replied with a short nod. I explained that he was a grown man now, who was about to get married. How could I be angry with what he just told me? My only son was getting married and about to start a family!

Michael had a look of relief and eventually smiled himself. I told him that we would have to celebrate this special occasion, just father and son. He agreed and explained that there was nothing planned in the way of a bachelor party, so he and I should do something the night before the wedding. I told him that it was a done deal, and we would have a great time.

We chatted for a bit longer before I left his home. It was quite late, and it appeared that everyone had gone to bed except for me as I walked down the empty street. I couldn't believe that civilization was no longer something I would dream about but was, in fact, now a part of my life once again.

Lord only knew how long it had been since I had seen a neighborhood that wasn't littered with human remains, a sight that was reminiscent of an old war film. Instead, everything here was clean and fresh, from the newly painted homes that lined each block to the recently cut lawns. I tried like hell to get my mind wrapped around what I saw around me as I attempted to convince myself that this was, in fact, reality and not fantasy.

I was brought out of my daze when I noticed a hand hit a car's side window that I walked by. The hand was slender and petite, like a woman's hand. It slid down the glass, which made a god-awful sound.

Without thought, I grabbed the driver's side door handle and pulled it open. I grabbed the first thing I saw and yanked the body out of the vehicle. I was about to move in for the kill when I noticed that it was a young guy. He was covered in sweat and looked up at me with complete fear in his eyes. I looked over my shoulder back into the car to find a girl looking at me in confusion, but what I noticed was that she was topless. Something went off inside of me that I hadn't felt in a long time. I definitely could have gone without seeing her. Quickly I apologized and made my way from the awkward scene before things took a turn for the worst.

Once I got back to the place I now called home, a deep feeling of loneliness shuddered up my spine, and it only intensified as I walked into the dark living room. I walked across the room and had a seat on the sofa next to the fireplace. I tried to push that feeling out of my mind by focusing on all that had happened in the last TWENTY-FOUR HOURS, but loneliness refused to fade away as I began to think about the house itself. It was a good-sized home, at least three times the size of the one in Appleton. It would have been perfect for the kids. At that moment, my thoughts shifted to my daughter Maria.

She would have loved Haven. As a little girl, she always talked about wanting to move to a bigger city. That deep feeling of loneliness was now gone, replaced by a deeper sense of guilt and sadness. I begin to weep there in the darkness, filled with pain and all alone.

After a few moments, I was able to compose myself but remained seated on the sofa as I tried to convince myself that the death of my daughter was not my fault, but I knew it was. All of the death's come back to me, from Maria to the professor, to my brother and sister. They all died because I wanted to make the journey from California to Haven.

Eventually, the guilt became too much, and I stood up from the sofa and went into the kitchen. Once there, I looked around for the silverware drawer. I found it next to the fridge. I fumbled through the drawer until I found the biggest and sharpest knife inside. I placed the blade on my wrist and began to add pressure. As I did so, my thoughts ran wild, about how my death would play out and who would mourn my passing. Then a more unpleasant thought than death itself appeared; my son was at the funeral. He was heartbroken. Then my mind went back to the following morning, and he would have found my body. It was Michael; he would come over first thing in the morning and find me long dead.

The knife fell from my hand and onto the floor with that last thought. I could not cause my only son so much pain. I bent down, picked up the blade, and placed it in the sink. In the end, I decided the best thing for me would be to go to sleep, so I left the kitchen and made my way down the hall to my bedroom, where I found my bed waiting for me.

That night I slept poorly as my thoughts carried over into my dreams. I was in Airepseh, back at my family's home (well, I think the house had similar features, but the structure was elongated and obscured). Was this what the house became after we left?

As I walked into the kitchen, I saw a large number of Unluckys scattered all about. I moved by the demons that were at my feet. I desperately tried not to wake them. I knew if one were to awaken within mere seconds, all of them would be as well and be hungry for my blood.

Once I finally reached the end of the kitchen, I happened to look down and noticed something odd. The Unlucky at my feet was The Professor. But how could that have been possible? He died in Ely; I haven't even met him yet?

Slowly I moved out of the kitchen to the hallway, but this hallway appeared to go on for miles. Sensing a feeling of dread, I looked the other way, which led into the living room. There were sleeping Unluckys all over. I could not see a possible route through them. I needed to cross the area to get to an old bedroom. I didn't know why I needed to get to the room, but I knew whatever was behind that door was important. I began making my way into the living room. I stepped on whatever available spaces I could find. I stepped over two or three beasts at a time. I wasn't sure how I could do it, but the only thing that mattered was that I was crossing the room without a problem. The deeper I got into the field of sleeping Unluckys, the further away the bedroom door appeared. I carefully looked over my shoulder to examine my progress. The hallway looked as if it were fifty yards away. At that moment, I realized that the living room had somehow become the size of a football field, and I was standing in the middle of it.

I continued my way across the room; everything appeared to be going smoothly until I felt a hand grab around my ankle. Fear instantly traveled up from my gut to my heart. I forced myself to look down and saw what had a hold of me.

It was my daughter Maria.

She had transformed into an Unlucky and wanted to know why I had left her in the desert. Frantically, I tried to explain that I thought that she had died. However, if I knew that she was still alive, I would never have left her out in the desert.

Without another word, the creature that appeared to be my daughter bit into my leg; I let out a scream as I pulled my leg away from her. As I did so, Maria let out a cry of her own and questioned why I failed as her father?

Before I could reply, she crumbled into a lump of dust. I tried to focus; I told myself countless times in repetition that thing was not my daughter. I looked around the area, and oddly enough, none of the other Unluckys had awakened from the commotion. As I turned down the bedroom, I turned right into the bedroom door.

At this point, I was confused about everything. I looked back over my shoulder, and the living room had returned to its normal size. I grabbed the knob of the door, and it was ice cold and dark. I put my hand against the wall to help with direction and found it was not wood but stone. Instantly I realized where I was. I was back in Nevada in the caves. I moved along through the darkness; I came upon a small campfire. There was some type of roast impaled with a stick over the fire. I knelt to examine the roast. My stomach twisted once I recognized what it was. It was part of a human arm.

I stood up to continue my search; something came out from the shadows and leapt on me, knocking me to the ground.

It was my brother…

Or rather what was left of him; he appeared to be in human form, but he was missing half his head. Blood poured from his open wounds onto me. He held me down and began to speak. Richard spoke about the journey that he never wanted to go on, but because I was his only brother, he went along anyway and that I repaid him by taking half his head off.

Richard said it should have been him in Haven and me in a cave rotting. He said I took what little life he had away, but that was all right. Doom was approaching quickly, and everything that I held dear was going to be gone in a blink of an eye. As he spoke his final words, my brother transformed into an Unlucky, more demonic than I had ever seen. Finally, he said that I had taken half his head and it was his turn to repay the favor. He opened his mouth, which was inhumanly large, and long fangs replaced teeth. My brother let out a horrible roar and then came down to rip my face off.

I awoke with a scream soaked in sweat, but it was only a bad dream.

It was only a bad dream…

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