The Light

Jaran Reddington Part 2

“Be careful, Jaran. Keep yourself safe. Get to the Portals and go through them as soon as they appear. I’m sure you’ll emerge into a favourable place.”

With that, Rip’s body became still as the life drained out of him.



Jaran fell over his body and began to sob amidst hard, laboured breaths. He felt weak. He knew though, what he had to do. He had to get to the Portals and step through them; simple enough. What if I end up going to Hell?

No, I mustn’t think like that. I’ve had just one serious encounter with the law. I’ve done nothing else wrong my entire life.

He pushed himself off the ground and swung the quiver over one shoulder, with the bow over the other. He sheathed the sword, grabbed the shield, and began to walk. With all that weight pulling him down though, it wasn’t easy.

“I could lose some of this, right? I mean, I don’t need a sword and a bow and arrow.” No sooner had the thought entered his head, that the quiver, shield, and bow faded away, leaving no trace of their existence.

“What the fuck? Where the fuck did my stuff go?”

“God damn it!” Jaran stomped on the ground in anger, swinging his fists through the air. “Give me my stuff back!” Just like that, everything came back – exactly the way it was when it vanished. “The hell is going on here…” Jaran was thoroughly confused now and had no idea what was going on. Damn it, Rip would know. These were all his weapons, after all.

Flying Sparks, Reapers, and Death

Jaran Reddington Part 1

The red needle slipping past the white 100 was the last thing Jaran saw before the world went black. One second, he could feel the cool breeze through the open roof of his convertible riffling through his hair. The next, his ears were ringing. His head spinning. His body aching beyond measure. The edge of the world was becoming hazy, and he could feel a warm substance trickling down his temple. Eventually, all feeling left him, and Jaran slipped into a permanent slumber.

Sometime later, Jaran blinked his eyes open, heavily disoriented. Judging by how the dark was now streaked with wisps of light, it has been a few hours since he had lost touch with his senses. Dazed, and in a sort of trance, Jaran began to climb out of the once-glorious BMW M4, rubbing his arm against the cut glass. Oddly though, his arm remained unbruised. The edges of his vision were now pure black, giving him a tunnel vision of sorts.

At the furthest point he could see, there stood a man dressed in pure black, right down to the shoes. There wasn’t even a streak of any other colour. Seeing no other viable option, Jaran began to limp towards the figure, hoping he would offer some sort of explanation for this weird state of being he seemed to be trapped in.

After about a minute of advancing though, his limp vanished, and he could walk normally again. Eventually, he broke out into a run, now thoroughly desperate to get some answers.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” muttered the figure once Jaran reached him.

Streetlights Shattering on Essex Street

The streetlights flickered out one by one, starting with the one furthest from Jade. She stopped dead in her tracks as the one directly above her shattered, immersing the whole street in darkness. An eerie, cold chill descended onto Essex Street, making it much colder than it had any right to be, even for late autumn. A pile of leaves, collected at the foot of a tree, rustled and began to whirl around like a tornado. Jade’s head began to spin; she clung on to the nearest streetlight pole to steady herself. She didn’t want to fall to the ground. She knew what was coming, she had experienced it before. She couldn’t let herself be found slumped on the ground in front of him.

Suddenly, the leaves picked up speed and all turned crimson. Dust joined in in the swirl and a draft began to blow. The elements bundled into an eddy of blood red and orange, then exploded, the leaves and dirt flying around in all directions. A man now stood next to the tree. He wore a well-ironed matt red tuxedo and a black shirt underneath. A white tie added an extra splash of colour to his attire. In his right hand he carried a cane that bore a skull for a handle. It was sleek black, save for one scarlet line running down its length that matched the colour of his tux. He rapped it on the ground as he proceeded towards Jade, but didn’t seem to be using it for support.