Realm of Phorm The Vixdjinn

I was never enough.

I tried. I really tried.

But, I was never enough.

"It's a symptom of a much deeper problem."

". . . What?"

"Merely one of myriad deteriorations resulting from the atomization of communication and the isolation of the individual. Evidence that larger, more sinister and sweeping societal trends have had a direct, deleterious impact on the social and internal lives of every person in the blast radius.

"People are denied fundamental, basic interaction. They are siloed and confined. The prospect of organization in and of itself becomes tantamount to some manner of unacceptable faux-pas, perhaps even abject crime. And as such, there exists an unmet need within the depths of every person so denied - a gaping hole that demands acknowledgement, demands satisfaction.

"And so they seek the alternatives. They seek whatever they can to cram into that void. And because the options are few and far between, they turn to excess. They turn to stronger, more potent methods. Larger methods. Higher concentrations. Stronger formulations. Excessive durations. Hours upon hours in a blurred rush of sensation.

"They dedicate their precious, limited time outside the system to an unruly, unhealthy binge. They come to a place like this seeking that high. Forgoing sleep, sacrificing hygiene, neglecting even nutrition, pushing themselves further and further in order to get what's been withheld from them - To get even a whiff of what's been engineered out of their lives. They find themselves desperate to capture some sliver, some fleeting sensation of what's missing from their lives. Of what they should have regularly, in more healthy and controlled doses. But because they are so denied, they instead devour all they can in as short a period possible, fearful that there might not be a next opportunity.

"And then they shamble their way back into the system, after an extended, bleary-eyed binge of a weekend that somehow felt no longer than an afternoon. Left mentally and emotionally destroyed, pushed physically beyond their limits, the consequences of their excesses heavy on their person. And yet they still look back fondly upon their desperate bender, even when it is merely moments past. Getting emotional and overwhelmed by their just-spent high as they feel the inky void rush back to meet them once again. And so they yearn immediately for another hit of the concentrated, unearned serotonin, thinking it a solution. Revering it as if it were somehow enrichment for the soul.

"Fooling themselves into accepting it as enough, as appropriate, as correct - When in reality it belies a deeply broken environment designed to keep them wanting. Designed to keep them lacking."

Poly nearly spat the final word from her mouth, so obvious was her thick, oozing disgust.

Both Dee and Mekkie regarded Poly with stunned silence, mouths slightly agape as they lingered on either side of the standing "Welcome To AniMenagerie 14!" posterboard.

"Uhhh..." Mekkie interjected, "Welllll, she clearly ran in here to escape when she saw us. So I'll go check the vendor hall!"

The mouse scurried into the crowded convention center, quickly becoming obscured amid the throng of cosplayers and attendees. The hyena turned back to face the fox.

"Poly, girl," Dee stated flatly.

"Lighten the fuck up."

The cool evening air was still.

Somewhere in the distance the sounds of far-off, reveling beach-goers would periodically displace the smothering silence on the street. Yet these sounds were faint and easily ignored, utterly removed from the task at hand.

A subtle night breeze flowed around the mink's shining, impossible skin as she kept a brisk pace down the sidewalk. She had been hoping that the Santa Monica fog would be her ally this evening, but instead she had no such luck. Rather, she found the air was as clear as it was motionless. As a result she was fully exposed as she casually strolled along the boulevard, incredibly obvious and in full view of all who might see her pass. But while there was no thick mist to cover her motions, there were also no inopportune witnesses anywhere to be seen.

It was just as well.

( Story Continues... )

"P... P-pull it out."

"What the fuck do you mean, 'Pull it out'?"

"I mean PULL IT OUT."

"Uh, you DO know you're not supposed to pull out anything th-"

"I-I... I KNOW... what I'm fucking TALKING ABOUT... Haaaaa... PULL IT OUT."

"Alright... This is literally your funeral, girl. On three. Ready?"

"One."

"Two."

"Three!"

( Story Continues... )

The horizon seemed to dance in the distance. What she could see through the gigantic window wasn't much, but the shimmering sight of sand and sky were enough for her.

She had never known anything else.

"Can I go outside?" she asked, already aware of the answer.

"No," the reply was quick, blunt. "You know this by now."

( Story Continues... )

Thin, pale wisps of fading haze spiraled up toward the midnight sky above, dissipating into nothingness after naught but scant moments. The inky dark of midnight was almost claustrophobic, despite the seemingly endless space that stretched in all directions. Even if an open sky and rolling dunes of gritty sand were all the eye could see, even if the humming illumination of vigilant light posts stood constant watch, nothing could mute the sublime and overwhelming pitch-black that seemed to chew at the edges of visible space.

It was so different here. So easy to throw her head back and see a flowing, rich tapestry of stars stretching overhead. She was used to the city lights damping them all out. Maybe, as she drove toward the city limits, she'd catch a glimpse of more than nothing. She'd see a handful or so twinkling lights in the sky, hanging low on the horizon. But those occasions were rare and fleeting.

She'd never seen the stars thriving like this.

She'd never seen darkness like this.

( Story Continues... )

ATTN: Administrator's eyes only

SUBJECT: PLEASE SEE SMS INTERCEPTION

BODY:

Poly,

One of the target's contacts reached out via unsecured text message. Thought you might want to see this.

You owe me dinner next time you're up here at HQ.

( ATTACHMENTS FOLLOW )

My writing is quite bad and stupid, and objectively so. Overall, even outside of my own insecurities, it's plain that there's very little that anyone would ever get out of reading what I write. The work will remain untouched online primarily, and will digitally rot in obscurity until such a time as the platforms that host it decline into disuse, disappearing from the world permanently and without fanfare.

It's a touch hard to deal with at times. But...

But I'm still going to write it.

Because no one else will.

And no one else can.

The picture juttered to life, unstable but quickly reaching stillness.

Lighting bloomed as tinny audio slowly settled into something more coherent.

"Is it going?"

The mink slipped into the scene, pulling herself into a chair set up on center frame. She gestured toward the screen, presumably indicating the camera filming her. She donned a well worn punk jacket, covered with studs and pins, and seemingly a lifetime of stories.

Her eye was swollen. Blackened. Dried blood on the bridge of her nose beneath a bandage. There was a piece missing from her ear.

Behind her, the San Francisco skyline was just visible across the bay from where she sat, which was apparently atop a roof somewhere.

"Should be! Go ahead whenever you're ready." The voice from off camera was perky and bright.

The wind was still that day.

( Recording continues... )

Trickles of freshly fallen rainwater gently burbled through the metalwork drainage pipes affixed to the side of the building.

The skies had been overcast all day long, but it wasn't until the deepest part of night that the clouds above even began to give way. It had been a gradual thickening, one that had stretched over hours, as well the horizon. Something akin to a mounting threat, an ominous suggestion of always-impending precipitation that steadily built over the course of the afternoon, swelled on into the evening, and only at this point, well past midnight, began to coalesce into substance.

It was a kind of pitiful rain, though. At least it was, at first. One might've derided it as an exaggerated, over-promising mist. The kind of weather that loomed and darkened, only to piddle its way over the eastern hills before making too much of a fuss.

Then again, sometimes the canopy could turn on you. Sometimes, after regarding the distended sky as a kind of empty threat, you could find yourself shocked by the extent of its seemingly overflowing intent.

( Story Continues... )