*~*~*~*~*
"Dylan, you're home!"
Dylan's landlord was an older woman, white, a bit scrawny, with a scratchy kind of high-pitched voice. Dylan had really been hoping to avoid her, but she was sweeping up dead leaves out front, and the only approach to to the house from the bus stop was visible from where she was. Dylan couldn't, in good conscience, just walk by without responding to her. "Yeah, I'm just getting back from work."
It was fall, but the day had been hot, and Dylan's backpack was heavy, digging into their shoulders and making Dylan's back sweat. "I was just raking some leaves," replied the landlord, rather unnecessarily, "Doing some chores around the house."
"Oh. That's good."
"Yeah, I've been raking leaves and I mowed the lawn earlier, my back is killing me."
"I can see how that could be a pain." The lawn was huge, wrapping around the already-large house and extending back quite a ways. Dylan sure as hell didn't want to do it, but that was why Dylan was renting, rather than owning their own home. Also it was cheaper, but that was beside the point.
"Yeah, I've still got to get the gutters, all these leaves have probably clogged that up, it's gonna be a real hassle to clean up."
She paused for a moment, not quite looking at Dylan, and not quite not looking at Dylan while they struggled to find an answer. Dylan had never cleaned gutters, and wasn't sure why the landlady was talking about it. Maybe she was trying for sympathy? Or just trying to connect? Dylan had had a long, trying day at work and just couldn't muster up much emotional anything.
"I'm sorry to hear that. I hope it goes well. I'm...gonna head on inside." Dylan slowly took first one, then another step towards the front door, not wanting to be rude, but more than ready to be done with this conversation.
The landlady lifted her hand in farewell, "You have a good evening."
"You, too."
Dylan went inside, where they breathed a sigh of relief. That was over. And noone was in the kitchen, which meant Dylan didn't have to try awkwardly navigating around other renters to do things in the tiny space.
Dylan washed the day's lunch dishes, prepared breakfast and lunch for the next day, then sat down to eat a dinner of cheese, sweet bread, and mango, with seasoned microwave beef strips from a bag, because that was what Dylan had been craving for dinner when they went shopping for the week. It was all delicious and quite filling, and that was really all that mattered, even if, while cutting the mango, Dylan couldn't help thinking about how sharp the knife was, how quickly it would stab through flesh, how the blood wouldn't be too difficult to clean from the tile. Then the microwave beeped, and Dylan retrieved the beef strips, so that dinner would be complete.
Dylan was just discarding their trash when another renter came into the kitchen. The fisherman. He was nice, and he was willing to let there be silence, which Dylan appreciated. Dylan gave the man a nod of acknowledgement, receiving one in return as the pair traded places in the kitchen, Dylan leaving, and the man entering.
A quick trip down the stairs later and it was shower time. Dylan showered, briefly used the swiffers to clean the shower and the rest of the bathroom, wiped down the sink real quick, washed their hands and retreated to their bedroom, still completely nude, and grateful, not for the first time, that they had a private bathroom across from the bedroom, even if it was the size of a closet, and awkward for Dylan's bulky figure to maneuver around in.
Done with the annoying parts of the return home, Dylan took a few minutes to masturbate, as a personal reward for showering and cleaning the bathroom, which they'd planned to do every day, and thus far, had managed. Once done with that, Dylan decided a little shuteye before hopping online would be nice, and after setting the alarm timer to half an hour, so the short nap didn't turn into sleeping all night, Dylan closed their eyes, took deep breaths, and intentionally relaxed, allowing themselves to fall into a meditative state.
There were women. Two of them in front. Four in back. All of them glowing in different colors. Just out of earshot of Dylan.
The women in front looked human. Both were round and soft, one with brown skin with red undertones, the other a much darker, truer brown, not quite model-black, but close. The lighter woman glowed a sunny yellow and, combined with her huge, gorgeous afro, seemed to have a halo. The darker woman glowed blue and had long locs pulled up into an elaborate style, whispering with her companion. From the way they kept looking over, it was clear they were discussing Dylan.
Behind them was a huge woman who appeared to be made of grey boulders, a full, green bush with far-reaching roots serving as her hair. Though she was about the same shape as the more human women in front, she was scaled about twice as large, and rather resembled a mobile mountain. She was hunched over in deference to the black hand on her shoulder, the red glow surrounding it pushing oddly at the green glow surrounding her.
The bald woman whom the red glow surrounded wasn't model-black, but a true, light-sucking black, with the notable exception of her bone-white pubes and eyebrows. Whatever she was saying to the rock woman, it had her full attention, because she didn't seem to notice the excited-looking little woman who was crawling her way up the rock woman's other side.
The climber had bronze-brown skin with glitter under it, glowing purple on top of it, her half-braided, half pressed hair tripping her up as she climbed. When she reached the rock woman's head and startled the bald woman, her long hair was used to pull her, prompting her to scramble behind the meager defense the fourth woman offered.
The last woman looked like a life-sized painting, cut out of the frame, glowing white and almost human-looking, like the others. She had a frizzy ponytail, smoothed down around the edges by smears of dried paint, and she moved like a stopmotion film, in awkward starts and stops. When the glitter-skinned woman hid behind her, she spread her arms wide, even as she disapprovingly glared over her shoulder, while the rock woman gently held back the enraged bald one.
Dylan decided this was probably the most interesting thing they'd seen in months, and stepped forward, with the intent to engage the foreign women in conversation. They ran into what felt like syrup, catching the attention of the woman glowing yellow, whose head popped up in alarm as she waved an arm at Dylan, urging Dylan back. But it was already too late, and the women disappeared before Dylan could retreat. There was a distant yellow light, however, illuminating the surrounding darkness, and the sound of voices, raised in either song or prayer.
The light washed out everything, the only thing that Dylan could see, so Dylan continued walking forward. The voices resolved themselves into chanting that grew louder the closer Dylan got, the light resolving itself into a doorway, or perhaps a window, too bright to see beyond, and a few inches off the ground. A tentative hand through the center of the light met with no resistance, though as Dylan extended more of their arm through, the chanting faltered, causing the light to dim.
Dylan sharply withdrew their arm, not wanting to lose it if the window suddenly closed, but the chanting picked up again, and the light brightened. Dylan tried to step up on the bottom edge of the window of light, as if it were a true step. It wobbled precariously, so Dylan grabbed the edges to keep it from falling. Once Dylan was certain it wasn't going anywhere, they poked their foot out, finding solid ground on the other side, at about the same level as it was on Dylan's side, and quickly stepped through.
Dylan turned out to be climbing out of a mirror into the center of a circle of women wearing matching yellow robes. All of the robed women glowed lemony yellow, with the exception of the gray-haired older woman facing the mirror, whose yellow glow was tinted black close to her skin. She looked stunned at the sight of Dylan coming out of her mirror, completely nude, and she paused for a long moment before suddenly turning, thrusting her arms into the air with a triumphant cry.
"The champion has arrived!"
A roaring cheer rose up around them, and Dylan suddenly realized that the circle of women surrounding the mirror was, in turn, surrounded by an enormous stadium full of people. Dylan wasn't sure if this was an elaborate dream, or hallucinations caused by bad...something, but as Dylan looked around, they realized that maybe this hadn't been the best idea they'd ever had.
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The climber had bronze-brown skin with glitter under it, glowing purple on top of it, her half-braided, half pressed hair tripping her up as she climbed. When she reached the rock woman's head and startled the bald woman, her long hair was used to pull her, prompting her to scramble behind the meager defense the fourth woman offered.
The last woman looked like a life-sized painting, cut out of the frame, glowing white and almost human-looking, like the others. She had a frizzy ponytail, smoothed down around the edges by smears of dried paint, and she moved like a stopmotion film, in awkward starts and stops. When the glitter-skinned woman hid behind her, she spread her arms wide, even as she disapprovingly glared over her shoulder, while the rock woman gently held back the enraged bald one.
Dylan decided this was probably the most interesting thing they'd seen in months, and stepped forward, with the intent to engage the foreign women in conversation. They ran into what felt like syrup, catching the attention of the woman glowing yellow, whose head popped up in alarm as she waved an arm at Dylan, urging Dylan back. But it was already too late, and the women disappeared before Dylan could retreat. There was a distant yellow light, however, illuminating the surrounding darkness, and the sound of voices, raised in either song or prayer.
The light washed out everything, the only thing that Dylan could see, so Dylan continued walking forward. The voices resolved themselves into chanting that grew louder the closer Dylan got, the light resolving itself into a doorway, or perhaps a window, too bright to see beyond, and a few inches off the ground. A tentative hand through the center of the light met with no resistance, though as Dylan extended more of their arm through, the chanting faltered, causing the light to dim.
Dylan sharply withdrew their arm, not wanting to lose it if the window suddenly closed, but the chanting picked up again, and the light brightened. Dylan tried to step up on the bottom edge of the window of light, as if it were a true step. It wobbled precariously, so Dylan grabbed the edges to keep it from falling. Once Dylan was certain it wasn't going anywhere, they poked their foot out, finding solid ground on the other side, at about the same level as it was on Dylan's side, and quickly stepped through.
Dylan turned out to be climbing out of a mirror into the center of a circle of women wearing matching yellow robes. All of the robed women glowed lemony yellow, with the exception of the gray-haired older woman facing the mirror, whose yellow glow was tinted black close to her skin. She looked stunned at the sight of Dylan coming out of her mirror, completely nude, and she paused for a long moment before suddenly turning, thrusting her arms into the air with a triumphant cry.
"The champion has arrived!"
A roaring cheer rose up around them, and Dylan suddenly realized that the circle of women surrounding the mirror was, in turn, surrounded by an enormous stadium full of people. Dylan wasn't sure if this was an elaborate dream, or hallucinations caused by bad...something, but as Dylan looked around, they realized that maybe this hadn't been the best idea they'd ever had.
Next Chapter
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