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[Anonymous]

They say a lot of strange things happen at night. Of course, this doesn't mean that strange things can't happen during the day, either, nor does it mean that nights will not pass which are, in fact, quite normal. However, It could be argued that at most times, somewhere in the world an event was occurring which would be considered, by few or by many, to be strange. In this case, such an event just happened to occur during a time at which the sun was not shining upon this particular side of the world. While old superstitions may dictate that these two events were likely related, such was not the case.

Really, it was all just a coincidence that in the youth of this night, a twinkling light would form in the midst of an open field, mimicking the stars above but so much closer to the world. On an open plain at such a dark time, such an event would be easy to see for some distance around - especially when the light grew, and spat out what could charitably be called a grown man before fading to nothing, as if to pretend it had never existed. Its passenger was left disoriented, grumbling his curses as he rubbed his head and wondered what happened.

"What inna hell...?" Jim-Bob - good ol' country boy - at last managed to take in his surroundings, noting first and foremost that something was missing. Something rather important.

"Gaddamit. Where'd the trailer go...?"

[Anonymous]

Ketsurui sighed to herself as she tended to a small fire, forged from wood she collected on her travels and some stray rocks to keep the embers at bay. She poked at the scorched black wood with the tip of one of her daggers, the metal burning a bright red as the heat became too much to handle. Huffing, she withdrew the weapon and stared at its still glowing tip quite curiously, wondering how long the effect would last. As she continued to stare, mind wandering from one question to the next, the light the tip exposed started to grow brighter. Wait- what?


Blinking several times, the pale woman cautiously placed the dagger to the grass at her side. It no longer bared any red coloration, so there wasn't any chance of the heat causing the vegetation to ignite suddenly. Her red eyes widened, their slit pupils expanding to an elliptical shape that reflected the oddity in the heavens. Now, she was a nomadic woman, who had seen much in her days of bounty hunting. But this was something else. It filled her with a sense of dread and excitement. She followed the light's course to the ground, the movement so swift that normal human eyes couldn't possibly follow. But hers weren't 'human.'


Much to her surprise, a man was spat out from the glow. One that reeked of dirt, possibly alcohol, and tobacco. The stench was overwhelming for her sensitive nose, but in due time, she grew accustomed to it. Getting to her feet, the woman clad in all black took her dagger up with her and shoved it into its sheath, strapped around her waist. This fellow spoke with a foreign accent, one that wasn't admirable in the least. Giving him another whiff, she was able to faintly detect the smell of blood being pumped through his flesh. Though a means of sustenance for her, she was quite reluctant to give it a taste.


"Who in the hell are you?" Ketsurui called from her campfire, brows knitting tightly together.

[Anonymous]

Jim-Bob's mind clicked and its gears would grind in an attempt to process the information that it was taking in. The machinery was rusty and in a severe state of disrepair, however, having seldom seen any real use within the last 30 or more years of his life. Eventually, it managed to come to an acceptable conclusion as to the cause of his current predicament:

It was those goddamned queers.

Searching the ground near him, the man was pleasantly surprised to find his rifle - his old friend, nobody understood him better - lying on the ground next to him. Taking the rifle in hand, he stumbled to his feet and took a better look at his surroundings, only to be presented with fields of grass and a lot of nothing. "Shit," he grumbled to himself as he scratched his chin. "I need a beer."

It was then that the man heard a voice. The good news was that this meant someone else was here; maybe he could figure out where the hell he was. Provided, of course, that this other person was a good, God-fearing person such as himself. The bad news was what he picked from the voice: first, the pitch indicated that it had come from a woman, and the words and tone she used told him that it came from a woman who didn't know to shut her mouth and let men to the talking. It was the fault of women like this that God allows attacks and natural disasters to occur on American soil, after all. Jim-Bob knew this for a fact, because the man on the TV told him so. Clearly God hates feminism, among other things, and therefore it was Jim-Bob's duty to hate them as well.

"Y'best be shuttin' yer mouth an' learnin' yer place, woman," the foul-smelling man called back as he turned to the voice's direction. "Now why don'tcha be a good girl and tell a man where he can get 'imself some beer."

(Note: This is the point at which I state, for any who may be reading, that this man's views in no way reflect my own.)