Information

Simza
Legacy Name: Simza

The Darkmatter Mahar

Owner: Quagsire

Age: 9 years, 11 months, 4 days

Born: June 3rd, 2014

Adopted: 9 years, 11 months, 4 days ago

Adopted: June 3rd, 2014

Statistics

• Level: 1
   
• Strength: 10
   
• Defense: 10
   
• Speed: 10
   
• Health: 10
   
• HP: 10/10
   
• Intelligence: 1
   
• Books Read: 1
• Food Eaten: 0
• Job: Unemployed

The City

For the most part, the streets of Metro are not spectacular. Those few citizens lucky enough to own cars park them beside curbs with peeling white paint. Films depicting the heroics of pilots in the War to End All Wars are showing in all three cinemas. The better neighborhoods may support a tree or two inside an iron grate, though most plants outside Metro Park are confined to window boxes.

Citizens of Metro will readily boast about the low crime rate. If you happen to visit City Hall, any member of City Council can tell you the story of how the President shook hands with Metro’s own mayor in recognition ofthe city’s innovative housing project for low-income families.

There is only one topic forbidden in the city of Metro, one even the youngest children are taught to avoid. If you are wise, you will never ask a Metron why Capricorn Avenue is never opened.

The Witch

It is obvious that the Road Closed signs on Capricorn have been in place for years. The orange and white stripes are faded by the sun and the lights on top no longer blink, not even in the middle of the night.

There is nothing alluring about this avenue on the edge of the industrial district. All the businesses here closed a decade ago, with the exception of one grimy bar. Red neon lights illuminate the side of an abandoned warehouse that forms an alley between the two buildings.

Edgar peered down the alley’s dark length, shivering as the wind picked up. In this alley there were no pieces of trash or drunkards sleeping off the latest bottle. The rumors that birds avoided this place could not be easily discarded as fancy, for there was not a single white splotch staining the strip of asphalt that served as an entry for the witch’s lair.

How she had acquired an elephant skull to place before the jagged hole in the side of the warehouse was not his business. He cringed beneath the glare of sockets that contained no eyes. The majestic creature’s life had been cut short by poachers and now it served as a warning to thieves. A man had once tried to raid the witch’s treasure trove. He was found at the edge of the river the next day, undoubtedly dead. There were no bones left in his body though not a mark could be found on his skin.

Edgar shoved his hands deep in his pockets and stepped inside. The bones of small animals crunched beneath his feet. Their skulls hung from strings, with more impressive specimens given crates upon which to perch. His breath caught as he came face-to-face with the leering skull of a crocodile. The corridor of bones gradually widened into a receiving chamber. The witch sat on a throne formed from the spines of many creatures. The wall at her back was covered in skulls of every imaginable size, some of them alarmingly similar to his own.

They were from chimpanzees or possibly gorillas. This was what he told himself so he would not lose hisnerve.

Simza studied the approaching man through narrowed eyes. He was middle-aged and balding; wearing a silk suit with a tie so ugly it hurt her eyes. She could hear his pounding heart and smell the stink of his sweat even at a distance.

To lose her place among the People and to be reduced to a potion brewer for such unworthy creatures… it was almost more than she could bear. She thought about striking the man down where he stood. The shape of his head wasn’t very attractive but his skull was large and there was one place at the base of a column where ugly bolt heads still showed through a scattering of small rodent skulls. The clatter of coins in his pocket was intriguing enough that she allowed him the chance to speak.

“Great One, I beg you to help a lonely man.” He dabbed sweat from his brow with a red silk square and licked his lips. “It is said that you can brew a potion for any ailment. Since I was a young man, I have lived withthe curse of receding hair. Since I was a boy, girls have looked at me like some foul creature. I have saved for many years to bring you a present worthy of your skills in exchange for one of your miracle potions.”

He bowed his head and held out a sack containing only half the coin on his person. She let the disdain of her gaze burn him as she spoke, enjoying the way he squirmed.

“I have brewed potions that changed the course of history and you come to beg for hair. I should expect no more from a worm like you.”

“Great Lady, you are right! I know I am pathetic. Hair would give me the confidence I so badly need.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out a few more pieces of gold. “This is all I can spare, if I am to pay my rent this month.”

“Surely if the matter is so important, you can spend a few weeks in the street. I will not waste my precious time for less than one thousand gold pieces.”

Edgar paled. She had named the total sum he carried. He’d been prepared to offer several hundred coins with a few left over to buy a nice new outfit. He could hardly expect to impress a lady in his current attire. There was no hint of compromise on the face of the witch.

He hung his head and emptied his pockets. She ignored him completely as she worked on the potion, the bag of coins whisked away to a back room heavy with protection spells.

He gulped the vial the moment it was in his hand, gagging a bit at the bitter flavor. He could swear every follicle on his scalp was tingling, though when he reached up to feel he encountered smooth skin.

Simza had returned to the bone throne, waving him toward the door. “The potion takes twelve hours before you will notice the effect. Be gone.”

Edgar took great care in making his way home, checking frequently over his shoulder to ensure he was not being followed. The people of Metro considered themselves very progressive, but there was still one crime that carried the death penalty and that was making a deal with the witch.

The Jungle

Simza glared at the spot where Edgar had stood, unable to get the stench of his fear out of her nose.

She hadn’t meant to kill the child, only to give it a fright. The little brute was always running through her garden, trampling her best herbs and calling her names from the safety of the trees.

Somehow the runes on the stones had been reversed. The bleating of the goat had been forever silenced and the boy had been silenced forever

The People had tolerated her irritability because she did much good. She brought the rains and drove away animals that threatened the livestock. They were reluctant to include her in the tributes to the good earth spirits, but they did not chase her away. For one hour twice a month, she could feel true serenity and almost forget she was the witch.

They would not listen when she tried to explain it was another boy that had changed the stones. The damage was done. The spirits she had listened to for guidance fell silent. The People burned her hut and chased her out into the desert.

She wandered for many months, finding herself stranded in the awful city of Metro. In the warehouse she found a new spirit, one made bitter by many years of being buried beneath human constructions. She made that bitterness her own until her only joy was in causing misery.

The Price

No Metron dared to approach the bear wandering the streets in a business suit. Their curiosity turned to anger as they watched him lumber down Capricorn Avenue.

Edgar shuddered at the sound of their shouts at his back. His identity was protected for the moment by the thick brown hair that covered his entire body and no Metron would willingly step beyond the faded signs. If he could convince the witch to help him once more, he would take great care in leaving.

Simza was once again seated on the bone throne as Edgar threw himself to his knees. “Your potions are truly effective, Wondrous Witch. My entire body is covered in hair. People mistake me for a bear or dog and chase me away from every restaurant in town. I have not had a real meal in a week.”

Simza glared at him. “I suppose now you will tell me you are unhappy, though I gave you what you asked for.”

“I only wanted hair for my head! Look at me. I look ridiculous.”

“It is hardly my fault you were not more specific. Such a potion will be more complicated to brew. Five thousand gold pieces.”

Edgar pulled out a paper with a shaking hand. “This is a stock certificate my grandfather gave me as a boy. It is worth as much as you ask and more and it is all I have left. Please, take it.”

She sneered, amused by his look of horror. She let him believe that she would not accept such a payment for a few moments then snatched the page from his hand. “I can see you have nothing of real value, but I will accept your paper on the condition that you also give me the robe and shirt you wear.

He ripped the purple coat from his shoulders, allowing it to fall in a heap. His white silk shirt came next, revealing a very hairy chest.

The second potion had an immediate effect. The hair on his body fell away, leaving only the thick locks on the top of his head. He reached up to feel his smooth cheeks, relief turning to horror. His skin wriggled, taking on new shapes and textures until he looked like a human patchwork quilt. Here was a patch of tree bark, there a patch striped like the hide of a zebra. He stared at his grotesque new form in the mirror behind the throne.

Simza raised a hand, pointing at the door. “You have nothing left to offer. Get out.”

Edgar sobbed and wrung his hands. “At least let me stay until the crowd leaves. Don’t you understand? They will kill me!”

She conjured three shadows shaped like giant jungle bats. He ran from the room screaming, his screams increasing as the mob surged forward to take him.

The story of the patched man would spread, but even the gruesome details of his death would not keep Simza out of business for long. Edgar’s bizarre patches of skin were still being analyzed by scientists when a girl who hated the shape of her nose paused to stare in wonder at the majestic elephant skull.

Story by Pureflower

Broke my heart
On the road
Spent the weekend
Sewing the pieces back on

Friends and Foes pass me by
Walking gets too boring
When you learn how to fly

Not the homecoming kind
Take the top off
And who knows what you might find

Won't confess all my sins
You can bet I'll try it
But you can't always win

Are you coming with me?
I might steal your clothes and wear them if they fit me
Never made agreements
And I won't back down
'Cause life's already bit me
And I won't cry
I'm too young to die
If you're gonna quit me

I can't hide what I've done
Scars remind me
Of just how far that I've come
To whom it may concern
Only run with scissors
When you want to get hurt

I said hey you
You're no fool
If you say 'No'
Ain't it just the way life goes?
People fear what they don't know
Come along for the ride

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