On another world, in a different time, Barnaby sits by his bed mulling over his life in an existential way. His bedroom chamber is filled with the finest wooden furniture covered in the most expensive linen. He is wearing the most outlandishly expensive silk clothing that’s lined with red accents. To keep warm he has on the finest wool jacket made from Alpaca fur or some other kind of fancy material. All his clothing is darkly themed which gives him an almost seductive sinister appeal.

  Lost in thought he manifests flames above his hands. This world, like many of the worlds they create, is alive with magic. While every living thing is surrounded by magic, touched by magic; only a few can control it. There must be rules, there must be order.

  From his tower he stands up to look out the window at the world below. His tower is in a strategically advantageous place along the walls of a medieval castle giving him a view of the city and valley below. In the city, people scurry about selling bread, meats, fish and other assorted necessities. All very important doings, but nothing that interests him. The cobblestone streets are lined with filthy dirt. The city below smells.

  He thinks to himself that he misses the old world. This world, it wreaks, he ponders. The city smells like shit. The people smell like shit. This story is shit.

  The home world. He starts to reminisce about the old world. It’s been ages since he’s used proper technology, television and computer monitors. Neon lights. Just as he thought about all the places the neon lights led too; Frackleberry, walks in with a smile on her face. She realizes instantly that Barnaby is brooding again. Her smile wanes. She walks up to him and kisses him on the cheek and rubs his back.

  “Dark Character 1, it’s a beautiful day. Why waste it in here sulking?” said Frackleberry as she tries to comfort her husband, lover, closest companion and best friend.

  Barnaby turns to her, “What should I do, Dark Character 2?”

  “You could start with what you always do! Have a sinister meeting with Team Forsaken, you know how much they love your strategy meetings. Then you could visit all the lords of the land and remind them of what will happen to their families if they betray us or the dark team,” she said as Barnaby started to gain interest.

  “I have a checklist around here somewhere,” he said looking about his room.

  She waves her hands in the air, “take lunch. Yada… yada… something overly tragic and exceptionally tasteful…” she smiles, “…like a baby goat.”

  Barnaby licks his lips; he did enjoy kid meat. He thinks to himself that he is very hungry. The lesson he keeps relearning is, if you think you’re madly depressed. Eat first, if the depression goes away, your blood sugar was too low. If it doesn’t. Eh, you’re depressed! Either you’re hangry or your life is hopeless.

  “After your afternoon nap, you could practice your magic skills. You’re the most powerful magic user in this world but got to stay on top. We can’t have anyone thinking you’re weak now, can we? After that you could follow up with Team Forsaken and make sure they completed all their tasks. Which you know they didn’t because their off probably fornicating with humans,” she said.

  “Knowing those hucksters, I bet they’re also torturing one as well,” he said with an evil grin.

  “After you properly threatened them to do their jobs, you could end the day with manifesting yourself into your brother’s dreams,” said Frackleberry jokingly.

  Barnaby was irritated, “I actually started my day watching the Morning Star.”

  “Oh! This, again? I swear you too are the most peculiar dwarves in the long history of dwarfdom to ever live. Is that why you’re standing here having an existential crisis?” asked Frackleberry.

  “I don’t like watching you fuck my brother,” said Barnaby as he turned away and sat on the bed.

  Frackleberry followed and sat beside him.

  “Most people love watching me fuck! I could fuck anyone, I fuck everyone! It’s always the hottest,” she said, getting heated.

  “It’s hot!” he begrudgingly said.

  “People rave!” she exclaimed. “You never like to watch? Everyone likes to watch.”

  “I have this thing,” he said as he looked at his wedding band.

  She was really getting fired up, “I get people instantly in the mood to do it with their own lovers, who haven’t fucked in ages. I’m doing a service to society.

  Barnaby responds, “and society thanks you.”

  “I don’t even know why my clothes are still on to think of it. After watching me and your brother, you should be standing here wanting to rip off my clothes,” she said, still fired up and angry.

  “The dress is very expensive. I know, I pay the bills,” he replied like a wiseguy.

  “Instead, you’re over here feeling sad, and you should be aroused,” she said, still angry and confused.

  “How do you know I’m not aroused?” suggested Barnaby, with a wink.

  “I don’t understand why we constantly have this fight. Why do you have to be so weird?” said Frackleberry, visibly upset.

  “You’re dead to me,” said Barnaby.

  “Dead to me? You’re that angry at me?” Frackleberry was confused about what he meant.

  “No. I mean, I can’t get your death out of my head. The woman I love is gone. I don’t know who you are anymore,” said Barnaby as he started to shed a tear.

  “Please. We’ve all died. Over and over. You saw to that! This has been your plan from the beginning. You keep bringing us back. You keep bringing me back. Every time I wake up in that tank, you’re there waiting for me like a sad puppy. You could just end the cycle,” she was getting infuriated.

  “I don’t get a choice. It’s my job! My sworn duty...” Barnaby mulled over his choices. “There is no ending the cycle. You want to come back as some insect? Become some obscure tree in a large forest? You want to leave me alone, forever searching? Not knowing if I should stop looking or not. Spending my life looking for you in every blade of grass. All I do. All I ever do is divert our path,” he said furiously.

  Frackleberry thought for a moment, how did she get here again? The same arguments and fights. The same emotions and hurt feelings. She was looking forward to seeing him just a few minutes ago and now she felt like leaving. Their relationship was like a cycle. A giant wooden wheel. The deepest intimacy. She’s loved this man over ages, epochs, eons and millennia. From the first world to the last. Then always comes some conflict, and eventual abandonment, feelings of anxiety and isolation. Eventually they will reconnect and start all over again.

  Looking back, she can’t even remember just now who started this fight. Was it him, or did she? At that moment Frackleberry decided to just give up. She just wanted to be with him. No matter if he was a sulky mess or not. Just part of the wheel that turned in their marriage.

  “I’m sorry,” said Frackleberry. “Can you just be with me?”

  “What? For fucking the golden child?” he was confused why this conversation took this rapid turn towards an apology.

  “No!” she said angrily. “I don’t know why. I just don’t want to argue. Can we start over?”

  Barnaby sighed, “fine.”

  Frackleberry breathed, “okay.” She paused for 10 seconds and looked around the room.

  “Oh! Honey. You’re home. I missed you so much. Tell me about your week,” said Barnaby almost sarcastically.

  “Well, I’ve been setting our plans into motion. Just came back from shagging your brother for the past week. He’s doing good, by the way, I noticed you didn’t ask about him,” she mocked.

  “Oh, I’m glad he’s so good,” he mocked.

  “He’s also very good at shagging, ‘by the way,’” she said as Barnaby sneered. Frackleberry paused for a moment as Barnaby took a second to accept that she was playfully teasing him. Teasing him but ultimately being truthful. “But!” she exclaimed. She continued, “but you already know that! Just following…”

  She emphasized this next part, “OUR!” Barnaby looked away and then back at his wife.

  She continued, “our plan to slowly torment or seduce your brother.”

  Barnaby wasn’t enjoying the details he had agreed too.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  In afterthought she pondered over word choice, “Seduction? Torment?” Really the same thing depending upon your definition of seduction. But as I was saying, getting your brother’s avatar into switching to the dark side from those troublesome light bringers. So, we can win the final battle and go home,” said in a fake upbeat voice.

  “That’s great, babe! Go Team Black!” said Barnaby.

  “Go Team Black!” said Frackleberry.

  They smiled at each other, came into a warm embrace and kissed.

  “What have you been up too,” asked Frackleberry.

  “I’ve been reading your diary you left on my nightstand,” said Barnaby.

  “It’s really more of a novelization of our lives,” she said as she paused for a moment expecting him to say something. He did not. She filled the void, “What did you think?”

  “It’s some sick shit,” he was disgusted.

  Frackleberry was taken back, “What do you mean it’s some sick shit? It’s an accurate record and story telling of one of our adventures.”

  “I don’t disagree with you on what happened or some of the facts. It’s just your inner monologue of the events and certain details,” said Barnaby. He sucks in on his teeth as he stopped to think about how this next part of the conversation was going to go. They did agree not to fight.

  “Could you give me an example,” she asked curiously as she worried about his opinion.

  “Well. Let me read to you a part I’m talking about,” he went on.

  In the shadowed recesses of the ancient library, Female Long-term Snack leaned back against the cold stone wall, her breaths coming in sharp, quick gasps. The scent of aged parchment and the musky odor of The Neck Nibbler’s lingering presence enveloped her. The Silence between them was thick, charged with a primal tension she could almost taste.

  He's right here, watching me with those deep, dark eyes. Why does this feel so right yet so terrifying? Would tonight be the night he decided to finally consume her, permanently. Leaving her cold corpse on the ground to rot. Or continue their mutually gratifying feast for a few more nights. Her heart pounded, aching for the touch she knew would be both ecstasy and torment.

  The Neck Nibbler stepped closer, his eyes locked onto hers, gleaming with an otherworldly hunger.

  “Female Long-term Snack,” he murmured, his voice a caress that seemed to stroke the hidden places of her soul, “tell me what you want. All of it.”

  Oh, Derrick, can I really say it? She trembled, not just from cold but from the enthusiastic, forbidden desires roiling within her. I want him to bite me, to claim me. I want all of him all over all of me. I want to feel his teeth on my neck, the pain mingling with pleasure, the rush of my life blending into his. I want him to bring me to the moment before death or dare I say, ‘all the way,’ and then imbue his magical cure that revives my body.

  “The Neck Nibbler,” she whispered, her voice laced with need and fear. “I want you… to mark me. I need to feel your bite, taste the sting of your immortality on my lips. And, then- “Her cheeks flushed with heat as she dared to voice her darker yearning. And, then I want you to take me, fiercely, against this wall, where every thrust reminds me, I’m alive yet so close to the edge of death. I want you to take every drop of blood from my body as you climax. I want my heart to stop. And, when you magically revive me, it will be as if I was reborn anew and for us to start all over again.”

  The Neck Nibbler’s eyes darkened, a storm of desire and darkness swirling within them. “Female Long-term Snack, do you understand what you’re asking for? The pain isn’t just momentary; it’s a fire that will consume us both. I’ve never taken all the blood from my victim; I mean, partner before without them dying.”

  I do, I do understand, I want to try, I trust you, you have the power to bring me back from death, she thought desperately, her body already arching towards him, seeking the sharp, exquisite pain that promised to morph into intense, all-consuming pleasure. She said, “I want to burn in that fire, to meld my darkness with yours.”

  For a moment she thought about the mistake he had made. Victim. She truly hoped that every other woman he’d ever consumed was truly that, his victim. A meal. That she was special, his first and only lover and partner. That he didn’t have to feed on any other woman ever again. That he would feed on her forever. She had moments of doubt, was this true love or was he playing with his food for longer than normal.

  As he closed the distance, his fangs gleaming faintly in the dim light, Female Long-term Snack felt the fear and desire crash within her like violent waves. But above all, she felt alive, wildly, terrifyingly alive.

  “Wasn’t that good?” said Frackleberry. “I thought it was an accurate retelling of our fourth reboot of the vampire world.”

  “I just didn’t realize you were aroused and were pleasured by the thought of me murdering you, especially in such a violent and sexual way. Like how horrifying for me that you want me to climax as I’m holding a dead body in my arms,” said Barnaby terrified but, peculiarly oddly aroused at the same time.

  “But we did those things, we had this conversation. I died while you thrusted me over and over,” said Frackleberry.

  “I mean…” he paused, this conversation was very uncomfortable. For a moment, he looked around, he worried that he was on that ‘How to Snag a Perpetrator’ show. “I don’t remember you dying during sex. You had lost a lot of blood, but not all of it, you might have been unconscious for a few moments.”

  “I remember seeing the white light of the tunnel,” she said, becoming aroused in reflection.

  “I don’t remember us saying all of these words, in this particular way,” he started to question his own sanity. “These words per say?” He started to dance around the idea in his head, “Specifically, about climaxing as you die.” He tried to explain away the uncomfortableness, “Maybe, the original tone was more joking, tongue-in-cheek kind of way.” He got very serious for a moment, “this is some seriously heavy stuff.”

  “This is exactly how I remember it. I feel like you’re softening up the truth because you don’t want to accept the fact that you enjoyed hurting me,” she was confusingly angry.

  “Well. You asked for this,” he was confused.

  “What’s that supposed to mean,” her anger was boiling.

  “You literally asked me to do this, I mean,” he defended himself.

  “I did. But you didn’t have to enjoy it so much,” she said as she pitied herself.

  “Wait, hold up. Did you get exactly what you wanted?” he said.

  “Yes,” she angrily sighed like a petulant child.

  “Ignoring what you said, in the moment. Let’s pretend like it could have just been pillow talk and you never intended for it to actually happen. Let’s not argue details of who wanted what,” he built up his strategy. “In afterthought, you know, free of mind and body and soul, was this the best sex we’ve ever had together. As good as you ever wanted?” he asked.

  “It was probably better than I had expected,” she admitted.

  “Huzaah!” he cried.

  “It was everything I wanted and probably given the right mood, I might want to do it again,” she replied sheepishly.

  “Then why does it seem like you’re now mad at me about it,” he asked.

  “I don’t know. I think I just want a reason to fight,” she admitted.

  “Some agreements are hard to keep,” he said.

  “I’m still mad about our conversation earlier. I’m conflicted. I wanted you to feel pleasure by having sex with me till I die. But at the same time since it’s kind of a fucked-up thing for someone to want. Unconsciously, I guess, I want you feel bad about having sex with me until I die,” she felt exposed and vulnerable. She attempted to justify her position, “is that so wrong?”

  “I guess. That’s the most female thing you can feel.” He laughed and cried a little, “Authentically you.” He put his hands up I the air in disbelief and acceptance.

  “Yeah. I know. I need therapy,” said Frackleberry. “Why don’t we talk about your diary.”

  “Oh,” he said. “You’ve been reading that thing?”

  “Yes, why don’t we recount the exact same night in your diary,” she said.

  In the dim light of an old library. I, THE NECK NIBBLER, vampire extraordinaire, murderer of untold numbers of humans, stood in front my part-time lover, part-time snack, only known to me as, THE LONG-TERM SNACK! Among the smelly old books, I could home in on her rose candy perfume. My intentions were like a laser. Which in afterthought, at this point in history, has not yet been invented. I, however, know of lasers, because I’m an ancient being whose lived multiple lives on multiple planes of existence. I sometimes get easily distracted and accidently get out of character from time-to-time.

  She wanted my bite and maybe a little more! If, you know what I mean. *During my own internal imagining of her reading my diary I see myself winking towards the 4th wall at my crude joke* She had a particular… specific request. As a man I felt obligated to oblige. I bit her. Threw her up against a wall. We did the sex! I was efficient. Five to ten minutes. Perfect timing and execution.

  Afterwards, she said, “Thank you for your service.” I knew I had done a good job.

  He only responded, “service is its own reward.” This particular log of the dairy ended there.

  “What was wrong with that?” Barnaby asked.

  “Babe. It’s tragically undetailed. The details of the sex were, and I quote, ‘WE DID THE SEX!’” she said laughing about to fall on the floor from the bed.

  Barnaby was embarrassed. Sex was something he enjoyed but not exacting something he thought about in such descriptive detail. He thought about these types of things more in images and not in words when he looked at her.

  “Not only that. You wrote so little detail about the sex, but then you went into such incredible detail over disemboweling and beheading some guy. Who wasn’t even our arch nemesis or at least the lieutenant of the main antagonist, either. It was some low-level church enforcer type that didn’t even get a legitimate name in the credits,” she said still laughing.

  “No legitimate name! I’ll will always remember killing Devout Church Ranger 7!” he screamed.

  They both began to laugh and laid against the bed. Frackleberry turned and smiled at her husband for a moment and then got serious, “How are you? What has you sulking, my love?”

  Barnaby was laughing and crying at the same time. He took a moment to reflect. The laughing stopped and the crying continued. He breathed deeply, “I just want to die for the last time, and not wake up in this world.”

  “What’s wrong with this world?” she asked.

  “This world is so intolerable. Just another, ‘high fantasy’ world. It’s not because this is my brother’s world. I love him, but he’s made an inferior clone of that world you made. You know, the one we started together with the two towers.”

  “Who could forget the world with two towers with lamps on top. I loved those lamps,” she replied.

  He sighed as if to let all the air and anger out of his body, “That world was so…” He thought hard about his word choice, “…much richer and nuanced.”

  “You want to die over nuance?” she asked.

  “It’s been millions of years! We don’t have any new ideas or characters! It’s just the same characters repackaged with the same agendas. I just feel like we keep telling the same story over and over, especially in this world. The only thing that changes are the characters' names. He even made the world's de facto rulers, witches! Servants of everyone, my ass… Just for you. Like a slap in my face,” he said.

  “You can’t blame him for trying. He knows what I like. What do you want?” she asked. “You started all of this for science! What about the science?”

  “Research? We haven’t changed the variables in forever! We know everything about everything, that we’ve tested. We’ve run out of ideas to test. Are we even doing science anymore? I don’t think we are,” he said.

  “Okay, what do you want?” she said. “What do we do now?”

  “I want to go home. I want to hire a new Storyteller. Someone that’s hasn’t been destroyed by conventionality. We must replace the World Master, the Destroyer of Worlds, the referees and the whole backend team,” he said.

  “Is that it?” she asked.

  “No, were going to have to expand the world and go live,” he said as suspenseful as possible.

  Frackleberry gasped, “Fully live?”

  Barnaby laughed, “Fully live.”

  She laughed and clapped in a rapid fashion, “I can’t wait!”

  “You’re in?” he waited desperately for her response.

  “I’ve always been in. I have a condition, though,” she said mischievously.

  “Name it!” he begged.

  “If you want to get with me, you have to get with my friends,” she parodied her own song.

  “No,” he responded.

  “You have no choice, if you want my help,” she said.

  “You already said that you were always in,” he said.

  “Yeah. I say a lot of things. Chock it up to woman’s prerogative. Do it or I’m not,” she demanded.

  “Why do you want me too,” he asked.

  “Do I really have to explain it? This seems to be the one thing everyone understands,” she went off on him.

  “You know, I don’t ‘get’ people. I don’t understand, like their desires, motivations or needs,” he explained.

  “Haven’t you been experimenting on this whole human/dwarf particulars from the very beginning?” she was very confused.

  “Sure, our experiments focused in on beings’ motivations, but it was mostly from a geo-political point of view,” he explained. “Not really the low-level personal stuff. Especially the sexual kind.”

  “Okay, well dummy. My friends watch you! You perk their interest. They think about you. They love you. Your quirky goodness and your playful dark sinister side. They want to know what it’s to be with you. Have sex with you. Then they talk to me about it. I tell them you’re the only dwarf in history to not be a polygamist. They don’t believe me; they think I’m keeping you to myself in some kind of jealous way. They’re angry with me for good reason. Now all this tension is ruining our friendships,” she explained like he was stupid.

  “And you’re okay with this?” he asked.

  “Me and every other dwarf, ever!” she exclaimed.

  “It just doesn’t feel right to me,” he said sheepishly.

  “Okay let me ask you. Every time we start a new world, and we haven’t found each other yet. Do you get with another woman until you find me,” she asked straight faced being a bit pushy, pointing at his chest.

  “You know I have,” he sighed.

  “And, have we ever divorced?” she continued to poke.

  “No, we haven’t ever divorced,” he said as she continued to poke him in the chest.

  “Exactly! So, you’re a polyamorous! And, as such, you’re going to fuck my friends, so they can shut the fuck up about you. And that’s that!” she was partially annoyed with him and started to walked away.

  “Yes, dear,” he relented.

  Frackleberry got to the door, turned around and smiled. She stood there for a moment and had an epiphany, “I’ve got it!”

  “What did you get?” he asked hoping she wasn’t going to demand any further sexual tasks from him.

  “You said you didn’t understand, people. Only experimented on the motivations to the geo-political,” thinking out loud.

  “Yeah,” he responded.

  “Well now we’re going to experiment on everything about the mind and behavior! Everything! Why we do the things we do. Why we think the ways we think. What motivates us and what doesn’t motivate us,” she smiled, blew a kiss in his direction and walked out the door.

  Now alone Barnaby thought, the things I do for love.