Published August 28, 2016 by

Memories of a Soul in the Underworld Chapter 8

Story Summary

Ethan is a soul in the Underworld with no memory of his life on Earth. He is bought and sold by various masters for centuries. Traveling from large industrial towns to scorching hot deserts. During his journey he picks up the skills, knowledge and magic to escape his enslavement. He runs with the intent of living a free life, but is pursued by agents until he's cornered on a remote mountain range. With little time left, Ethan begins to recount his life and masters in the hope of leaving a record of his existence. These are his memories.

I ran through the mansion searching for the other souls. Circling halls and climbing stairs, until I arrived at the guestrooms which used to host Alistair's friends. The white bed sheets were still perfectly ironed and arranged like some aristocrat would walk in at any moment. I glanced into every room to see if my fellow souls were hiding beneath the furniture, but everything was dull, uneventful, and unnaturally quiet.

I walked past the last room, to see pale lace curtains billowing in the breeze. I paused to watch them sway back and forth like waves, until I realized that none of the windows were meant to be open. I walked inside and pulled the window shut with a loud bang.

"What was that noise?" echoed Felix from down the hall.

"I'm sure it's just the mansion falling to bits," said Anya. "Just yesterday the dining room table collapsed. Master really needs to put more money towards fixing things instead of new party decorations."

"Do you think that Ethan could be hiding somewhere waiting for us?"

"Don't be silly," laughed Anya. "Ethan wouldn't ever think of something so smart. He's terrible at games. He once attempted to hide behind a lamp, but you could see his body poking out from behind it and everything. You should have been there Felix, it was hilarious."

I peered my head out the doorway to see the two of them strolling down the hall. Any idiot would have hid and waited for them to come closer, but I wasn't capable of such thoughts.

"Oh, crap! It's him!" Anya dramatically cried. She grabbed Felix's arm and the two of them dashed away.

I sprang out of the room and chased after them as quickly as possible. Our faint footsteps echoed throughout the mansion as we ran around corners and down wooden stairs.

Despite promising to catch Anya first, I found myself instinctively targeting Felix instead. Watching him slowly replace me as Anya's best friend was mortifying, and I don't understand what she saw in a guy like that. Perhaps he was more useful than I could have ever been.

I finally gained on them as we dashed through the empty ballroom. The lavish parties of the past were like a forgotten dream. I could almost reach out to touch Felix's shoulder, but then the two of them dived into the kitchen and slammed the door in my face.

My hand quickly lunged for the handle to push it open, but with the click of a lock, it refused to budge.

"No fair!" I yelled and slammed my palms against the door in frustration. The two of them giggled inside the room.

I shoved my body against the door once before deciding to give up and try a different route. I dashed out a different exit and ran down the hall, hoping to cut them off, but I soon caught sight of Anya and Felix standing in the foyer beneath a large crystal chandelier.

Felix was frozen in place and Anya was gazing at the door with her mouth wide open, completely oblivious to my presence like the game had been forgotten.

I joyfully rushed up to Felix and slapped him on the shoulder.

"You're it!" I said with a giant grin, so very proud of myself for finally catching him.

I jumped back to prevent him from tagging me straight away, but that guy just stood there frozen while staring at something over my shoulder.

"What's wrong?" I taunted with a smirk. "Is being it too much for you, flower boy?"

Felix's eyes made contact with mine. I could see fear that had never been there before.

"What's wrong with you?" His voice was shaking. "How can you keep playing at a time like this?"

"Not again," sobbed Anya and she covered her face with her hands.

"Hey." Their weird behavior uneased me. "What's up with you two?"

They didn't have to say anything, because the answer spoke for them.

"One young woman with long curly hair," said a deep voice from behind me. "One young man of average height with short hair, and one teenage boy of average height with hair down to his shoulders. Looks like we still need to locate another three souls."

I spun around to see three men in crumpled gray suits and large hats, standing in the open doorway like they owned the place. The speaker was a tall thin guy holding a clipboard overflowing with messy notes. He pulled an ink pen from his pocket, and began frantically scribbling away while muttering profanities under his breath.

Beside him stood a large green demon with blood red eyes and frightening teeth. Two horns protruded out from holes in his hat. I found myself mesmerized by his appearance, until the third man hobbled forward with the help of an oak walking stick.

The last mortal was a short middle aged man with black hair and a mustache. He was going bald at the sides, and his mouth shaped into what looked like a friendly smile, but he was probably just excited about our future suffering.

"What are you guys doing here!" yelled Felix. "We're the property of Master Alistair! You can't just walk in here like this!"

The demon growled. "Who do you think you are, soul? Didn't your shitty master teach you not to talk back at civil servants!"

"Obviously his master was one of those," sighed the man with the clipboard as he scribbled away.

"Now now, Florence," said Walkingstick to the demon. "Allow me to handle this. Alistair was it?" His voice dripped with fake sympathy. "I'm afraid that your master has had a little accident, and won't be returning for a while. A very long while. Forever in fact."

"Liar!" cried Anya. "Master Alistair is a genius who can do over a thousand magic spells, and he's immortal. There's no way that a great man like him could possibly die!"

"Die?" I whispered in disbelief. "What do you mean die?"

"Mathew," said Walkingstick. "Where did you say this Alistair was last spotted?"

Clipboard quickly flipped through his notes before he landed on one page. "It says on the Eastern Front. In the fight against the New Province rebellion."

"Ah, yes," said Walkingstick. "Now I remember. I'm sorry to say that your poor master has been blown to bits. Sneaky little bastards those New Province people are. They have a terrible habit of hiding their weaponry in the most difficult places, and your dear master just didn't see that one attack coming. All they managed to find was a hand, and that's already been shipped off to his remaining relatives on the other side of the Underworld."

"I don't believe you!" cried Anya as her body began to shake with grief. "It isn't true!"

"But I'm afraid it is, little girl," said Walkingstick. "And given his sudden demise and absence of a will, you will all be collected and resold at his Majesty's Soul Market."

01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, 09, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 5051 ,52,53