“And they locked us inside last night,” Brandon shot out, looking over his shoulder at Ben. I heard the other man sigh.
“It was a mistake—”
“Whatever,” Brandon cut him off. He turned back to me. He was scrubbed clean, his many tattoos now clear as day across his throat and over his arms. His face was fresh and a light beard starting to grow in.
“They have locks on the outsides of the doors,” he informed me. Ben pushed into the kitchen and looked at me in exasperation. I’d barely been able to recognize him yesterday when we came across him in the forest. Now he looked like he had via video chat when he did the interview. He had short, pale orange hair, eyes so pale blue they looked gray, and a long mustache pointed at the ends like some cartoon villain.
“And I told him, it's standard to have a padlock on cabin rentals that get left for long periods. Someone probably locked it up last night, not realizing I’d put people in here.”
“You locked us in with a padlock?” I asked Ben.
“We should kill Ben,” Makwa said. My eyes widened.
Shut up, I snapped in my head. I must have made a strange look because Ben and Brandon eyed me.
“Is there a working phone we can use?” I asked.
“Of course. I’m sorry this one is busted. I came to invite everyone to breakfast. You all must be starving. We have a dining hall and everyone would love for you to come join us. After that let’s get everything sorted,” Ben said. Brandon huffed and rolled his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest.
“We’re starving because no one showed up with supplies and food like you promised. Instead, we were locked inside,” Brandon complained, shooting an unimpressed look at Ben.
“Okay look, I’m going,” Ben said in exasperation. “Ava, when you and your friends are ready, come over to the dining hall. It’s to the left, you can’t miss it. There’s a big sign out front.” He looked at Brandon and rolled his eyes before heading towards the door. Brandon chased after him but came back a minute later.
“At least he didn’t lock us in this time. Let’s wake up the others and get the fuck out of here, I don’t like it.”
“Let's just let them sleep a little more,” I sighed, getting up and moving into the living room. I flopped on the couch. A moment later Brandon followed me in and took up a spot on the recliner next to the window. He began drumming his fingers against the armrests while keeping one eye outside. Without the ability to put his electric green hair in a mohawk, it was slicked back and to one side.
I slid my attention to Pollux’s diary still clutched in my hands and opened it up, needing something to distract me. I needed outside my head right now. Particularly because there was something else inside of it.
I have found locals. They were so terrified and I was so excited that the entire thing was too funny.
—
Well, I am a god now. The Great God Pollux. They do not call me that of course. There is no way to communicate with them because they have no written language. They think I am some great terror capable of wrath. How was I to know their brains would bleed when I talked to them? I really messed that one up…
Pretty sure they call me the God of Doom. Would have preferred to be the God of Fermentation and Fuckery but can’t really blame them.
—
There is a loneliness in me still, despite the humans. My own people form tight-knit groups, a collection of mates we call an eclipse. I had never found a mate in my world but it was not something that concerned me since I was still young. Now I never would have an eclipse, I suppose.
These humans are not like my people. They pair off, just two of them together. It sounds disastrous and starved. Not a concern of mine though because they do not want me as a mate. They consider me separate, other, strange, and frightening. Their minds reject me in ways I cannot control.
I make them uneasy, their bodies sometimes get sick, and my words harm them.
Oh well, at least we can fuck. It makes me a pervert but, I like fucking humans better than I had my own kind. Humans have supple, smooth skin that's warm to the touch. They enjoy my body too, pressing their bare skin against my soft fur, sinking into it, losing themselves to it despite their fear.
I slapped the diary closed.Then I reopened and reread a few lines. Then I slapped it closed again.
“What are you reading?” Brandon asked.
“Mothman’s diary,” I said and his eyebrows shot up.
“Let me see,” he got up, his body resting on the couch next to me. He reached out and I snatched it back.
“He gave it to me in confidence.”
“What has your face so red? Is it more drawings of him fucking you?”
