On the eastern horizon there’s a greyish haze which matches the mood of Quirksville this evening. Our fearless leader has been abducted which to most Quirkies and Quirklings comes as a surprise but to the elders was an inevitability.
Many years ago father built a house at the crest of the big hill. It was a nice house with a screened porch and a large back yard. Colorful awnings shaded the windows but the house was still bright and radiated happiness.
And father still lives in the house to this day. He wants to live in the house until the day he can’t anymore. But now he’s preparing to fight and the day he “can’t anymore” might come sooner than any of us imagined.
The elder Quirkies have always told tales about the sins of the past and the ultimate retribution that was fated, but these were seen by Quirklings as legends of old. They would laugh and make jokes about the beauty of Quirksville and how it was important to enjoy every day as if it were our last. Now i know the laughter was ominous and protective and not meant to be lighthearted.
The younglings are now asking about war with curiosity and confusion. They’re on the swings and you can hear them with their naive Quirkling banter: “You're an idiot, you don't understand anything! We have rainbow warriors. We have light sabers. We have samurais!” They don’t know war. They don’t know what we did and they don’t know what it feels like to come back to an empty house.
For now I watch them swing knowing that our leaders are preparing for battle in buildings within a stone’s throw. And I can’t help but replay the words of the elders and wonder about the tales of old. I can only hope that we do what’s right and that the powers-that-be have forgiveness in their hearts…
The armory has always been closely guarded, but until now it felt like a casual training exercise. It was never treated as anything other than a simple task of standing in place and going through the motions of looking serious.
But today is different. Very different. The air is thick with concern and the dread of what's to come. And the occasional smile or handshake feels like the hidden secret of a candle. It can light one's path and warm one's bones but underneath every flame lies a blackened wick.
The sad truth is that we're not ready. We have weapons and we have able bodied Quirkies and Quirklings ready to fight. But having a superior physical force isn't the same as having the mental preparedness that crowns victors. We don't know our enemy but they know us. We've been dulled by ignorant bliss while they've been sharpened by thoughts of revenge.
Will our dragons be enough? Is our golden battle armor stronger than the enemy's goo? Can our arrows and axes and lasers hurt their squids and scientific monstrosities? And what if the rumors are true? What if they've already infiltrated our ranks? What if the enemy is already among us? Is the war lost before it's even begun?
So while l'm too old to sharpen our weapons or assemble machines of war, l'm not too old to watch. My chosen role is to observe and record for the benefit of all who survive and for the generations yet unborn. Peace is now all but a fleeting fantasy, but it's one we hope will return soon.
I knew when I was a youngling, barely able to tie my own shoes, that I wanted to be a doctor. Father was an old-school family doc who visited patients in their homes at all times of day or night. My earliest memories involve accompanying him on house calls and feeling special because I was the caretaker of his black, well-worn Doctor's Bag. I was proud to be his son and remember his subtle smile when I said, "When I grow up, I want to help people just like you do."
When I was a little older, I remember sitting by my sister's bed when she was ill with a virus that hit the citizens of Quirksville with no remorse or abandon. I was armed only with a cold cloth and a hand to hold, but I felt like my actions contributed to her eventual recovery. At that point, my career became a calling and was solidified as if written in stone.
And I don't think anyone in Quirksville would deny that I'm good at my job. I'm attentive, I'm available, I listen, and I've always been able to cure my patients. Always.
But recently, the world has felt upside down, and I'm starting to doubt my abilities. It all started a few weeks ago and wasn't obvious. In fact, at first glance, everything felt the same. But it wasn't. It sounds crazy to say it out loud, but it didn't take long to realize that something evil had taken possession of the town.
It started with sick people who had major medical issues suddenly canceling important appointments and letting me know that they were "doing fine." Then a youngling showed up who said his mother wasn't his mother anymore, followed the next day by a well-known citizen of Quirksville who said her uncle wasn't her uncle. Surely, I had done nothing to cure the sick. And why were everyday citizens of Quirksville not acting like themselves anymore? It made me start to question everything and stumble upon the realization that evil was among us.
Maybe there's something in the water or air that should be blamed. Maybe the recent explosion of Squiddie companions in our community has something to do with it. Whatever it is, whatever intelligent force or natural event is behind these issues, I know it's fantastically powerful and pure evil. I can only hope it's not too powerful to stop...
After hours of crouching in the dark, I suddenly realized that I've never known what it is to truly be thirsty before. I can't remember a time when I considered plain water a godsend, but two treacherous days of trekking through the forbidden woods has done exactly that.
And after days of navigating the darkness of the dense forest, something came into view that immediately captured my attention. My nagging thirst was replaced at first by curiosity and then by fear. What I discovered can only be described as "the stuff of nightmares," and I knew that my life meant nothing if I couldn't warn the unaware citizens of Quirksville of impending doom.
But I fear I have no place to go and no method of easy return. Retracing my steps is nearly impossible, and I'm certain that when I'm discovered, my life will be forfeit. My only hope is to tie this message to a woodland friend and hope it finds its way back to Quirksville while there's still time.
What I discovered was a house where there shouldn't be one. A house in the woods. A house out of place. And a house that wasn't simply a house. Looking at it muddled my mind because it was simultaneously strange and familiar. It was equal parts ancient and modern. And staring at it made me feel like an icy wind was running over my body. The house wasn't right.
But it sucked me in. I felt compelled to follow a trail of fresh footprints that led to a large, time-worn window. And what I saw was a hideous phantasm of a Quirkie working on something that can only be described as a scientific monstrosity. The legends were true, for the Quirkie must be Dr. Quirkenstein. Nothing else made sense.
The reason why the house didn't feel right was because it was a laboratory, but not of the purely scientific variety. While there were vials, electrical coils, scientific instruments, and all the trappings of a traditional lab, there were also runes, spell books, and many other tools that could only be used to practice the dark arts.
And what I saw on an operating table truly frightened my soul. It was a mockery of the will of the great Creator. It shouldn't be, but it was. It was half-squiddie and half-Quirkie, a true abomination. It stirred with an uneasy, halt-composed motion, practicing as if for the first time.
A shiver ran down the back of my neck. But instead of fleeing, I chose to look through the window again. I saw floor-to-ceiling tubes that contained Squiddies of all shapes and sizes. I saw Quirkie and Quirkling bodies strapped onto large slabs, breathing shallow breaths and completely unaware of their surroundings. And I locked eyes with Dr. Quirkenstein moments before bolting into the woods to find a temporary safe haven to write this note. What I saw was a madness that can only come from years of solitary confinement and listening to whispers from the forces of darkness. I hear footsteps and know I've been discovered. I need to quickly finish these words of warning and find a carrier before it's too late.
28.08.1967
Fintech.
I stand upon the great wall, a colossal structure that has been here for many generations past and will hopefully be here for many generations to come. It stands two thousand hands tall and encircles Quirksville in its entirety.
For the past eighty moon cycles, my assignment has been quiet and perfunctory: watch commander for the Northern Border Quirkling Crew. The wall has always protected us from the threat of what lies beyond.
But the threat has never felt real. Our enemies have been phantoms of the past. They exist only in stories that our elders have told and retold to their children and their children's children. To them, the stories are real. But to us, they've always been whispers from a time long past and easily dismissed. But yesterday changed everything. The hole in the sky changed everything. It's a portal. A portal used by enemies foreseen and foretold by our elders. And the enemies are the stuff of nightmares.
Tentacled creatures have been moving from "there" to "here" and are amassing on the other side of the great wall. Weapons of war are being flown in by winged monstrosities. Giant armored figures wearing bestial helmets are directing and coordinating what can only be seen as preparations for an organized attack. The elders' warnings are proving to be real. Very real. Now the great wall must stand, and we must fight. We must defend our realm, and we must win.
I am Watch Commander Penelope. The Book of the Watchers will call me that if this battle is won. I have had other names, some longer, some shorter. But this is what I'm known as today. My mother was a soldier, my father an explorer. I am therefore both a warrior and a scholar. My ancestors have lived a hundred generations, and I'm saddened by the thought that this might be our last.
Whatever happens today, I know I will show bravery beyond words. If there has been no other point to my life, I will consider myself blessed to have fought in this battle. I'm ready to lay down my life on the battlefield to fight for my people. I am ready to fight for what is today. I'm ready to fight for what might be tomorrow. And I hope upon all hope that justice will prevail.