Tonight is our final storyline-- the sixth of four. The time will come when readers on FA will have to select what two storylines will be presented on FA and readers on SF will have to figure out which two storylines will be put up on SF. Yes-- two storylines will not make the cut.

So-- when it comes to this storyline you may take note that this spirit, in addition to apparently having a multiple personality disorder, is a little more aggressive than some we've already met. That doesn't mean that he is a bad-guy, per se, as he has almost the same chance of being a good-guy as he is an antagonist; a lot of that will depend on reader decisions as the story progresses.

Because of the amount of control readers have of the storyline there is a solid chance that one or more storylines could include adult material of a m/f, m/m, or f/f nature-- of course, that entirely depends on the paths the audience chooses.

Keep your eyes peeled for opportunities to help direct where "The Gift" is going, as one of our first priorities will determine which two storylines will be posted on FA, and which two will go to SF.

The Gift
Intro P
copyright comidacomida 2018

My childhood wasn't what you'd call 'happy'. It wasn't 'traditional'; it wasn't 'magical'; it certainly wasn't comfortable. When I was twelve my mom was committed to a mental hospital so I spent my teenage years with my grandparents. My dad wasn't in the picture because my mom was the victim of rape when she was sixteen. You can imagine how critical my grandparents were of me when I was sixteen, and it didn't get any better.

When I turned eighteen I decided that I was done with all of it. I took the money I'd put together from working summer jobs and borrowed some money from my grandfather so I could move west. I'd like to say that I chose Cherry City because there were lots of job openings, because it had a great public transportation system, or because it had great opportunities for high school graduates but, if I was honest to myself, it was because my mom was there at the Oregon Mental Hospital.

I didn't really have positive memories of her, but I didn't have horrible memories either. You could say that it was more about closure than anything else, but after I managed to get settled into a small apartment on the north side of town I made my first trip out into the city to go for a visit. Although my focus at that point was to get answers from her I didn't realize that my visit to the hospital would actually just give me tons of new questions... not to mention flip my understanding of the world upside down.

My mom wasn't the kind of 'crazy' you'd see in a movie; there weren't any vocal outbursts or explosive violence; she didn't talk in tongues and she didn't have any obsessive-compulsive urges. She did suffer from extreme depression however. Oh-- and she heard voices.

She was pretty lucid when I got there, and I had a chance to visit her alone in her room. The doctors made me give up anything sharp on me, including my belt because it had a metal buckle; apparently she'd tried to commit suicide three times during her stay. I have to admit that it was a little intimidating to hear that but I had to speak to her because I needed that closure so I could start my life over fresh. The lady that was waiting for me was nothing like the woman I remembered from my childhood.

My mom looked like she'd aged way more than six years and she had the scars of her past suicide attempts visible since her patient gown had short sleeves; they looked like pale double number signs on each wrist and forearm and she was already pale to start. She apparently hadn't spent any time outside her room, let alone outside and none of the other patients wanted anything to do with her... apparently she freaked out the doctors too, and that said a lot since there were supposed to be cannibals in the high security part of the facility.

But, regardless of how odd she looked, my mom didn't look like she was all that intimidating. At least, she didn't until she started talking with someone who wasn't there. I had trouble tracking what she was saying and I'm not entirely sure it was all in English. I'm pretty sure she knew she was my mom but a lot of what she said didn't sound like it was directed at me and that made it hard. After about two hours, I had to try and get through to her so I could know without a doubt. "Mom... you know who I am, don't you?"

She looked past me, her brows furrowing for a moment as if she were listening... just not to me. Eventually, just as I was about to say something her eyes finally focused and she smiled. "Hello, honey... I'm so glad you finally came to visit."

I let out a breath, trying to figure out if that was clear enough or not, but I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. "I wanted to, but Nana and Pop thought it wouldn't be a good idea. This was the first chance I could get."

Everything went quiet and I wasn't sure whether she was trying to make sense of what I said or just didn't 'get it'. Right when I was about to say something though she spoke up first, turning her wrists toward me. "They wouldn't let me die, you know."

It was a pretty strange segue, but at least she was talking. I reached out, almost ready to touch her hand, but I pulled back, finally starting to get a sense of why the staff was so intimidated; interacting with her was just... strange. "Well... that's what they're here for, Mom. The doctors and nurses here are supposed to make sure you don't hurt yourself."

She laughed, almost hysterically. "The doctors? No, Sweety... they don't do anything. They don't do anything."

My mom just contradicted herself and I had to point it out. "But... you just said that they didn't let you die. It's their job to protect you."

Sighing, she looked past me. "I was getting to that."

I leaned so that I could intercept her gaze. "What were you getting to, Mom?"

She smiled sweetly, her attention wholly on me once again. "I told them about you, you know. I told them about my baby... about how special you were... and they wanted to meet you."

A chill ran up my spine. Even though I knew that everything was just in her head I couldn't help but feel that I was on the spot... like an ant under a microscope in a lab... or a magnifying glass under the sun. "Mom... who's 'they'?"

My mom's smile turned impassioned in a way that seemed almost impossible for a woman who was supposedly so depressed that she'd tried to kill herself on multiple occasions. She spread her arms out in a way that looked eerily like a crucifixion pose and, before my eyes, the scars on her wrists opened, and blood began pouring out onto the bedspread like crimson curtains. I cried out in alarm, but she just continued smiling as she whispered. "You'll see, my love... you'll see."

I shouted out for help, calling for the doctors, or an orderly, or a nurse-- anyone who could help. Jumping forward, I grabbed hold of each of my mom's wrists, slapping my hands over the open wounds in a desperate attempt to staunch the blood. My palms pressed down on the cuts and, at the same time, I felt a bony grip clamp down on each of my shoulders and a soft, sinewy voice slithered through my right ear. "We've been waiting for you."

I was so caught up with trying to stop my mom from bleeding to death that I was almost able to convince myself that what I'd heard was someone talking in the next room-- the voice must have come through the vent or something. The grip on my shoulders tightened and it almost felt like claws were digging into my flesh. A voice spoke into my left ear and it was unmistakably close. "Do not waste your time. She is the past, and you are our future."

The door to my mom's room opened, and I spun around to plead for help from whoever showed. "She's bleeding and--"

The words stopped coming as I found myself staring at some kind of a lizard-- a man-lizard. He was covered in pine green plates, except for his chest and abdomen, which were adorned with smooth-looking yellow banded scales. He had gold bracelets and an armband, and wore a black leather loincloth at his waist hanging from a black leather belt. The moment his emerald eyes met mine I watched his slit pupils widen slightly. He spoke with the aggressive, grating voice I'd heard in my left ear. "There. Now you See."

A moment later the dragon faded like a cloud blown away by the wind as whomever entered the room banished him, walking straight through the dragon as if he hadn't been there. It was the orderly who I'd seen outside in the hall. "What's going on?"

I held up my arms, showing the copious blood pouring down from my hands-- realizing too late that they were clean. "Wha-?"

Turning around, I saw my mom laying on the bed staring at the ceiling, arms splayed out with a serene expression on her face. The orderly quickly pushed me out of the way, going to tend to her immediately. He nudged past me with such force that I stumbled toward the wall, but I didn't hit it. The smooth muscle of a sinewy body caught hold of me as various curls of a furred body repelled me-- steadied me. The next voice to speak was that calm and composed one that had greeted me in my right ear. "Worry not for your mother, Seeker. She is free."

I was stunned. "What?"

The orderly repeated himself, which was not what I'd just heard. "Go wait outside in the hall please."

He forestalled any further argument by immediately talking into the walkie-talkie that hung from his shirt pocket, putting me out of his mind. I stayed there staring at him as he inspected my comatose mother, unwilling to look away, but unable to take in what I was seeing. "She's... she's dead, isn't she?"

The orderly proceeded to ignore me, but there was another presence in the room who did not. A strange sense of serenity came over me as a feathery wing folded around my shoulders like a cowl, and the eerie feeling of warm scales comfortingly caressing the side of my face almost made me piss myself. A new voice, decidedly masculine but somehow gentle in a way I had never known urged me onward. "You do not need to witness what is next, child."

I slowly stumbled my way out of the room, accompanied by the curled scales of a feathered serpent hanging off of my back. There was so much I didn't understand, not the least of which being how I realized that every form and every voice belonged to a single individual. As a number of hospital staff passed by me it became obvious that nobody else had taken notice of what was suddenly weighing me down, figuratively and literally. "What's going on?"

The comforting loops of a feathered serpent were replaced by the hard, controlling talons of that green-and-gold dragon as a horned, plated muzzle pressed itself up against my left ear, voice oozing with a kind of otherworldly hunger I could not completely identify. "What is going on? Your mother has asked to be released, and she has brought us you to take her place."

Whether I wasn't able to understand or just chose not to, what I was hearing didn't quite make it all the way through my brain. Turning to face my oppressor, I--