On the floor, you find a missing poster. The words are faint, and have been bleached by the light, but you still can make out most of the words. --------------------------------------------------------------- --- | __________HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN?__| |_| |___________NAME: JACKOB BURKHARDT__| |_| |________________AGE: 49 YEARS_________| |__| |__________________SEX: MALE___________||___| |_DESCRIPTION: A TA=L, THIN MAN WITH SHORT | |__BLACK HAIR, A SH=RT BLACK BEARD, BLUE__| |___EYES AND A BLACK FUR TRAPPER'S CAP.___| \ MARRIED TO IMOGEN BURKHARDT, FATHER OF | -\____________AARON BURKHARDT.___________| ----\ _=ON OF CHRISTOPHER BURKHARDT AND__| ___\ ________ELEANOR BURKHARDT.__________| |____LAS= SEEN ON ISTURNKUP ROAD WITH A__| |________________NEWSPAPER.______________| ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Above the report is the picture of a man. The man's face is covered in stubble; a picture from long ago. You never liked pictures anyways. But, you did know the man. You saw him every day: Jackob Burkhardt had been a normal man in every way. He woke up, and kissed his wife, and had breakfast with his family. He worked with his hands. In the hunting seasons, he would go out and bring home a buck, and feed his family. He read the newspaper; he loved the sports section most of all. And he would go out every night to the local pub, and greet wife with a not-so-sober smile. Of course you knew Jackob Burkhardt. Although, it would be impossible for someone to know what had become of Jackob Burkhardt. It would be impossible to know that, once, upon a bleary, dark night, after Jackob Burkhardt had left the pub, he had stopped to sit on a bench on Isturnkup Road to read a newspaper. No one knew that, on that road, Jackob Burkhardt had met a being that strode with an inner light, blazing like the sun in colors he could hardly comprehend. Or that, in his less-than-sober stupor, he had reached out and touched the being, grabbing a piece of its flowing, blazing gown. No one could have watched as the being shrieked, and drug Jackob Burkhardt from his world to another. A world that blazed with colors like the being. A world that melted Jason Burkhardt's eyes. And yet, despite his lost eyes, he could still see. He saw a massive castle, standing upon a nothingness of fog, roiling with colors like a bleeding sore. Two parapets sat atop the castle, shimmering like the sun. More castle stood yond the wall he was laying against, a massive, empty, caustic estate. The man had wanted to scream, but he bit down and bore the weight of the impossible landscape as his mind slowly began to liquidate. And no one could have known that, as he shuddered on the mind-melting palace, he heard a voice- it came from nowhere, and yet, everywhere. From the castle walls, even speaking through his own mouth. "Foolish." the voice chided from everywhere. The voice belonged to not only the man, not only the castle, but this entire world. This world was a massive organism, a being of unholy size and power. The Law. None could have heard The Law chiding Jackob Burkhardt, as he shook with fear and indescribable pain on the floor of what was left of this reality. Not even Jackob Burkhardt himself. But, slowly, the words of scorn turned to words of surprise. The Law was surprised that the man had survived so long without screaming, or retching, or, as most did, dying. It would have been impossible to know the pact the Jackob Burkhardt and The Law made; Jackob Burkhardt would live inside of The Law forevermore; no death or sickness could claim his soul from The Law. In return, Jackob Burkhardt would be made whole once more, free of pain, never to be broken again. And the man agreed. He agreed without question. He shook his palsied hand with nothing. He could do no else. No one could have watched as the man formerly known as Jackob Burkhardt was torn apart, piece by piece, and replaced with the world, the entity, The Law. His flesh was replaced with a black, burning coat. His chest, a blazing white shield. The only part that was left of him was his face, which was covered by a black, unbreakable material. It burned like the sun, but froze like the furthest planets. The pain was immense, but, slowly, it vanished, slowly, slowly. The Law was not cruel, however; he allowed the amalgamation to keep his signature black fur trapper's cap. No one could have known these things but Jackob Burkhardt himself. You chuckle, and toss the scrap of pale paper into the endless sea of clouds. Another remnant of a world long lost to you. You sit back down on the melting floors, and open the latest edition of the newspaper, flipping subconsciously to the middle. After all, the sports section had always been your favorite.
