New World

In a shocking turn of events, I had somehow managed to land. No, teleport my way into a whole other world. I had seen my share of fictional works where very fortunate or unfortunate men and women depending on who you ask end up in another world entirely. Oh, and how lucky those bastards were compared to me. But thinking back on it, flying through the sky at breakneck speeds wasn't such a bad start.

I really wasn't thankful enough for what had happened. The universe was large, so large that my chances of ending up on a habitable planet were slim to none. Add that to the fact that I wasn't thrown into some volcano, and I had a reasonable start.

Oh, I'm getting distracted am I? Let me continue, I was just falling to my death when I finally regained my senses. I find it hard to forget my reaction at the time, a combination of cursing my luck and screaming myself hoarse. I was not able to do much to cushion my fall except flail about uselessly, which in a ironic turn of events may have saved my life.

If you asked any so called witnesses how the great Skybreaker came to earth, they would have spun wild tales of a demonic figure descending from shadows that covered the land, or whirlwinds of ash and hellfire flying about in an escort as the land split in two at my roar to herald my coming. The truth was, as always, far less graceful and awe inspiring.

Thanks to my awkward flailing I landed on my side instead of my head, which saved my neck from snapping in half. The same could not be said for my bones. A rather unfortunate crunch followed a landing from what had to be several hundred feet in the air. A better man may have taken advantage of the fact that he was in the sky to get a better look at his surroundings, but I was screaming my lungs out too much to behave with any measure of common sense. So there I lay, with one broken arm, a half broken leg, and god knows how many ribs.

Strange at it may sound that wasn't even the worst part. As soon as my eyes opened from the shock I found myself neck deep in a pile of mud. It stank like an army barracks, and I've smelled enough of those to vomit for the rest of my life. Now, I won't say I know much about bacteria, but stench generally meant feces, which was not something you would want on fresh wounds. Thankfully for me, the mud had cushioned my landing and left me with only a few scrapes and bruises instead of a few holes through the chest by a tree branch. Not so thankfully, the mud would infect them if whatever diseases that those insects crawling around me didn't already to so.

Oh right, the insects. These were not the tiresome mosquitoes and fleas that pecked at your skin while you swatted them off. These were large, at least the adults. As my head raised I found myself face to face with what appeared like a giant fly. And I do mean giant, the thing was larger than most cars I've seen.

Have you ever seen tiny bugs up close? Maybe you haven't, but god are they hideous. The creature I was staring at had the glassy wings of a flea and the red, bubbly eyes they were famous for. Black armored plates covered it's hide, linked chains black as the night sky. In the air I could hear a buzzing noise, loud as a hornet's nest. It then occurred to me that I should probably run, and fast.

I know exactly what you are thinking: Run? How could you run? You should have fought, or maybe died! Well, my dear friend, I would have liked to, but I was hardly in any shape to attack with a single arm and leg intact, and I had no mind to die. But then, I wasn't exactly in the shape to run either. I crawled through the mud and scrambled to raise my arms above the ground. Thank god it was wet and shallow, or I would have been stuck.

My left leg screamed with pain as I made useless attempts to run, each step crushing my bones like a giant hammer. I screamed, in pain, fear, or both as my run become an awkward hobble. A child could have matched my speed if they sauntered. I fell, slipping over the mud to break my nose on a rock not far from the pool which I landed in.

Oh, the pain. The biting, relentless pain of several broken bones, ribs, and now a nose. Even worse was the confusion, the constant gnawing of my common sense on an already uneasy mind. Had a man appeared to tell me I was dreaming I may have believed him, or perhaps corrected that it was a nightmare. But the pain was real, hot, bright and true as the sun above.

Is this it? I thought, looking down at the shadow casted by that giant flea. Was I going to die? Well, you know how my story ends, dear friend, so you know that I would not.

Out of options, I lunged forward for a desperate punch at the creature. I heard a satisfying crack, but then pain came with the news that it was my knuckles. The armor of the flea's underbelly, it seemed, was stronger than my bones.

I screamed again as the mouth bit down on my shoulder, dagger-like teeth tearing my flesh like knives coated in fire.