Alternative ghosts, p.1
Alternative Ghosts, page 1
Alternative Ghosts
A GameLit/LitRPG Novel of Time Travel and Alternate Realities
MK Eidson
Emila H Thicke
Eposic
Copyright © 2023 MK Eidson
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
This story contains material intended for adult audiences and may be triggering for some readers.
Cover design by: MK Eidson
This volume of Head Hoppers is dedicated to everyone who's ever had a day where they just didn't feel like themselves.
When you have two alternatives, the first thing you have to do is to look for the third that you didn't think about, that doesn't exist.
Shimon Peres
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Epigraph
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
CHAPTER FIFTY
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
CHAPTER ONE
Fauna: Baby
I can’t remember my childhood. My father was a faun and my mother human. A faun is half-goat, half-human. That makes me three-quarters human, as Ronnie calculated for me. Hence the name he gave me, Fauna.75. My parents never named me. From the thighs up, I’m a human woman. From the knees down, I’m a goat, with hooves and furry calves.
Why can’t I remember my mother or father? How can I know I have parents, yet remember nothing about them? Indeed, I can remember nothing about my life before my encounter with Ronnie. I’d laid a trap because I was hungry, and I’d thought I might catch Ronnie, but he spotted the trap before it could snare him. I’d fled, but Ronnie called out to me. His voice held no hint of anger, only kindness, and I’d apologized for trying to snare him. He told me mushrooms were good to eat, and we had foraged for them together. Since then, we’ve been inseparable.
To be honest, I wasn’t actually hungry. I don’t get hungry and don’t need to eat. Anything I do eat is merely for the pleasure of it.
After we defeated the giant metal spider, the world changed. More gravel covered the road, and on either side of it, the forest grew more densely. There was a house, with chipped paint, and people dressed in strange garb: The boy, Ulric. The girl, Charli. And the man, Nick, who had taken my hand and the hand of Emma the Elf. My fingers tingled at his touch.
Then came the lightning. It hadn’t struck from the sky, but shot out of the tattoo on the back of Nick’s hand, the hand I held. Electricity coursed through me.
The world changed again, and here we are.
Rain falls around me but not on me. Glowing, wavering magical symbols float within the downpour. Ronnie the Rogue, Emma the Mystical, and Greelia the Goblin Warrior stand with me inside the cylinder of rain, illuminated by a dim ambient light. Outside the curtain of rain is darkness… except for a tiny spark.
The spark expands abruptly into a ten-foot-diameter dome of light centered on Nick, sprawled face down and motionless on a cold tile floor.
With staff in hand, her straight blond hair swaying beneath the brim of her cowboy hat, Charli stands just inside the ball of light. Her form wavers, as though the universe has some doubt as to whether she exists. As though oblivious to his condition, she smiles at Nick over a bare shoulder but says nothing.
Also under the dome, the boy, Ulric, sits up, squinting against the light. He looks around until his gaze falls on Nick. “What happened? Where are we? Where’s everyone?” It doesn’t seem to have registered with him that Nick is unconscious and can’t reply.
“We’re here.” I try to step through the curtain of rain, but the magical symbols have substance and block me. My three companions within the rain join my efforts to leave our prison, but we all fail.
That’s not true. Where is Greelia?
Lightning erupts from Nick’s tattoo, and at the same time lightning blasts inside my head, a brilliant whiteness replacing everything I see. As the whiteness dims, I find the rain has stopped. Emma the Mystical stands next to me still, but Ronnie the Rogue and Greelia the Goblin Warrior are gone. Nick and Ulric are gone. Legs spread apart, Charli kneels on the floor, screaming as she gives birth. Blood pools beneath Charli. The baby is covered in the viscous red fluid. It slides out of the young woman onto the floor.
“Oh, my.” I run to Charli’s side, Emma beside me. I grab up the baby girl. There’s no umbilical cord. Shouldn’t there be? How do I know about umbilical cords?
The baby is quiet. I hold her up by her ankles and smack her bottom. Blood spills from her mouth and she cries. Her skin looks darker than I’d expect, even when cloaked in blood.
Emma kneels before Charli. “You’re going to be all right. The baby is fine.” She gestures at me. “Find a washcloth and clean her off.” Then she grabs Charli’s chin and lifts the girl’s head. “You’ve had a baby girl. What will you name her?”
Charli’s chin slips from Emma’s grasp and her head droops forward. Then she slumps to the floor, collapsing onto her side and rolling onto her back, her eyes staring up at nothing in particular.
“Is she all right?” I haven’t gone to find a washcloth yet.
“I’ll deal with her.” Emma leans over Charli and feels for a pulse. “Go clean off that child.”
There are no washcloths in this room. I go into another, and find cloths, but no water. There’s a contraption mounted on a counter over a basin before a mirror. The contraption has two short levers and a bent metal tube. I grab the tube, and it swivels on its base. It produces no water, so I move one of the levers.
Water flows from the tube. It’s warm. I soak the washcloth and then commence wiping the blood off the baby.
Her skin is green. How is this possible?
On the backs of the baby’s hands are birthmarks, one on each hand. On her right hand is a mark in the shape of a lightning bolt, colored yellow as though it were painted. On her left hand is a crescent moon, but rather than it being white as one might expect, it’s raven black. Perhaps the marks are more than just birthmarks.
The baby cries as I take her back to the room where Charli lies, still as death. Emma gives her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, but the young mother doesn’t stir. Emma looks to me, her sorrow and frustration so heavy as to weigh upon me as well.
I open Charli’s arms, lay the baby across her chest, and wrap her arms around the baby girl. “You have a baby, Charli. She needs you. Please wake up.”
The baby twists, turning onto her stomach. She seeks her mother’s tit. I unbutton Charli’s blouse and pull it back, exposing her left breast. The baby suckles for a moment and then bursts out crying.
Emma puts her mouth on Charli’s again and blows, holding the young woman’s nose shut. The tiniest glimmer of hope resides in Emma’s eyes as she lifts her head. The glimmer dies as Charli remains motionless.
I kick Charli in the rump with my right hoof. “Wake up, Charli. You have a baby girl.”
Charli turns into colored sparks. The baby falls through the fading bits onto the floor, banging her head. She wails.
“I’m sorry, baby.” I grab up the naked infant and cradle her, rocking her. “I guess I’m your mother now. I can’t let you grow up without one. What shall I name you?”
With a wailing scream, the baby flails her limbs. Lightning blasts from her yellow birthmark, and then she vanishes, her weight leaving my arms.
But she leaves a shadow of herself behind, an insubstantial raven black infant body still cradled in my arms.
CHAPTER TWO
Greelia: Baby
Where am I and how did I get he
My name is Greelia. I’m a female Goblin Warrior.
No. I’m not a Warrior or a Goblin, and my name isn’t Greelia.
I’m Charli. I’m a Shadow Wizard and a Guide.
No. That’s not right. I’m so confused.
I was holding Charli’s hand when the lightning struck.
My sword. I left it in the eye of the giant spider… the Arachnid Behemoth.
The map of safe routes… I had it. Where is it now?
Rain falls not on me but all around me, streaming over an array of magical symbols. Ronnie, Emma, and Fauna.75 stand with me in the glowing rain. Beyond the rain is darkness.
I step out of the rain into a sudden ball of light, my straight, blond hair swaying. I hold my staff… but I want my sword. Why do I hold a staff?
I’m Charli, the Shadow Wizard and Guide.
No. No. I’m Greelia… green-haired, not blond.
I am blond, and my name is Yvette.
No. I’m Erica. Blue hair, not green or blond.
My jaws won’t budge. I can’t scream. What is happening to me?
Nick lies on his back on the floor nearby. He’s aged, looking twice as old as he should be. He glances at me, and I throw him a smile. My blouse rides down on my shoulder. A strand of blond hair swings in front of my eyes.
That’s not right. I’m not blond.
Lightning floods the room, centered on Nick. It passes right through me, doing no harm. Nick convulses. I want to go to him, but my legs won’t comply with my wishes.
“Dad?” A thirty-something man, his facial features bearing a striking similarity to Nick’s, kneels beside the old man. Behind him stands a ghostly figure. Ulric.
“Mel.” Nick reaches a hand towards the thirty-something fellow.
The man identified as Mel takes Nick’s hand. “You’re going to be fine, Dad. Can you get up?”
Lightning rolls through the room again. When it subsides, Mel and the ghostly Ulric are gone. A woman in a red leather miniskirt stands near Nick. She speaks his name. “You need to come back to Khertaan.”
“Renee?”
“Yes, it’s me. Respawn now, Nick, before the timeline shifts again.”
“Nick?” I blurt his name. “Don’t leave me behind. Remember me… Charli.”
But my name isn’t Charli.
I’m Yvette.
No. I’m Erica.
“Dad?” Mel reappears. He’s standing next to Renee, reaching for Nick. “Please don’t leave me.”
No, I’m still wrong. My green hair sways in my peripheral vision. “Remember me, Nick. I’m Greelia.”
“Nick, please.” Renee kicks the old man. “You need to respawn as Morrow now.”
Germinal stage commencing.
My hair is blond. My cheek itches. I scratch it. There’s a scar beneath my fingertips. “Nick?”
“Macy? How are you here? You died.” Nick chokes on the words. “You know I loved you.” He wipes away some tears. “I didn’t ask your father if I could marry you. He asked me if I planned to. I didn’t say anything, I swear. He took that as a yes and then told you that he and I discussed it. You believed him and left me without even a goodbye.” He wipes away more tears. “I could have married you.”
Germinal stage completed. Embryonic stage beginning.
My blond hair shortens. My already lean frame shrinks until I’m back to my fourteen-year-old build. No, I’m thirteen. “Nick?”
“Yvette? Of course, you’re here. I’m haunted by all my pasts. Refusing you was the biggest mistake of my life.”
I keep changing, and Nick refers to each new persona by another name. I’m his siblings—Raymond, Gerard, Laura, Sammy, and Dolly. I’m his mother and father. His cousins—Sadie, Harley, Carmen, Ellen, and Randall.
I’m his Aunt Jennifer, and he’s no longer an old fart, but a baby.
Embryonic stage completed. Fetal stage beginning.
I’m so bloated. My knees are weak. I need to sit, but an unseen force has me in its grip. It’s like I’m possessed by an evil spirit making me repeat Nick’s name in the form of a question.
Fur covers me. I’m a nameless raccoon. Nick is a four-year-old.
No longer furry, and back in human form, I’m Cara Johnson, Nick’s first official girlfriend in sixth grade.
Now I’m Faith, a high school crush.
My hair is auburn. I’m a woman whose name Nick can’t speak. Tears pour from his eyes. He reaches for me, his lips trembling. He shakes his head. “No.”
My hair is blond. “Nick.” It’s not a question this time. I’m not someone else. “Remember. Where am I?”
“You’re in my head.”
“I’m not. Where am I?”
“You’re in Khertaan.”
“Am I?”
Now my hair is blue. “Please, Nick, don’t let me die.”
“Erica. Oh, God, Erica. You’re alive. I thought you were dead.”
“Not if you keep me alive, Nick. Please.”
I drop to my knees, my legs spread apart.
A pair of woman’s sandals appear before me. A woman occupies them. I don’t look up to see her face, but I know her name. Jean. She drenches me in perfume. Embrace by Vintage Works.
Her right arm swings back and forth by her side, her right hand gripping the end of an axe handle. She hefts up the weapon. “You little blue-haired bitch.”
“Nick.” I whisper his name. “Please….”
Nick coughs up blood. “I….” He crawls towards me on his elbows, his body trembling. “Jean, don’t….” He points at her, a symbol on the back of his hand pulsing yellow. Then he crumples onto his face, as the yellow glow dies.
I’m the only one who can save me. Nick couldn’t even decide who he wanted me to be, and now it’s left for me to decide. I don’t have to think about it….
My blue hair turns green. As Greelia the Goblin Warrior, I jerk back my head, avoiding having an axe planted in my skull. I strike with my arm like a snake, snatch the axe from Jean’s hands, and swing it around my head, planting it in the woman’s midriff. She bursts into a spray of glowing flecks that fly away on a sudden gust of wind.
Fetal stage completed. Birth commencing.
A role in addition to Goblin Warrior is forced upon me. Am I not meant to be Greelia? Circumstances gave me no choice. Now something is happening to me that should be happening to Charli. But I have no choice in this matter, either.
I’m not one to leave everything to chance or fate.
I spring from my kneeling position onto my feet, a war cry erupting from between my lips. Then I reach inside with my left hand and yank the infant out of me. The child is covered in blood, but not so much I can’t see that her skin is green like mine. I hold her up by her head. There is no umbilical cord. “You’re a girl. I name you Britta.”
A chorus of dancing women in green uniforms appears. In their midst stands a hooded figure.
The light in the room goes out.
CHAPTER THREE
Lady Ghost: Shattered
A young woman lies on the floor, blood pooling around her. An older woman swinging a bloody axe stands over the corpse. Swaths of dark red streak the corpse’s blue hair.
Nick crawls towards the corpse. He stops when he’s close enough to identify the body. “Erica… no….” He looks up at the woman with the axe. He doesn’t ask her what she’s done. It’s bloody obvious what she’s done. He knows her. She’s his wife. Jean. She’s murderously jealous, and the corpse at her feet belongs to Erica, the young woman who aided and abetted Nick in cheating on his wife.
Jean hefts the axe as she approaches Nick. The murder hasn’t left her gaze. He rocks back onto his butt, raising a hand between his face and hers, as though that’s sufficient to hide him from her. Neither of them speak, though there’s a low gurgle in his throat.
She raises the axe over her head. She’ll take his hand off and more besides. The axe blade descends.
The world blurs as time slows but everything is in motion, including myself. I grab the haft of the axe, halt its descent, and yank the weapon from Jean’s hands. “I won’t let you hurt him.”
Jean searches the air for something she believes to be right in front of her but isn’t. Then she dissolves like sugar in water, melting like witches in stories I’ve read.
