The Essence of the Other (Story Submission)

by **Snowscale** Mon Jul 01, 2019 4:12 pm

((Just a quick explanation of what's going on in this, prior events and all that. This is an excerpt from the book I'm writing, a semi self-insert in which I basically wake up in the world I created with no memory of how I got there or my prior existence. This is the first scene in which the Other actually manisfested as a character, instead of dark urges. For reference this is Dark, though yet to be called by that. Prior events are basically I run into a character of mine named Jack who takes me in without explaining his ulterior motive for doing so. Another note, this is a dream sequence. Without further ado, let this begin! Hope y'all enjoy it~!))

Pictures and emotions swam through my sleeping mind. I knew exactly what had transpired, yet couldn't make sense of it. I went through my memories, trying to figure out how I had landed in a world of my own imagining.

Suddenly and without warning, the mindscape became a library. Fitting, considering I was a bit of a bookworm. I walked over to one of the shelves to look at the titles, realizing that each book was a memory. The older ones were tattered and worn, while newer ones were fresh and crisp, even with a new book smell to them. In the middle of the expansive space were several couches and a desk, a pen and paper laying there. Curious, I wandered closer and inspected the paper.

It was completely blank, even though the pen was uncapped. I shook my head. I needed to focus. I needed to figure out how to remember myself when I woke up.
I sighed and turned, suddenly freezing as I saw a figure standing before me.

It seemed like I was looking into a mirror, only different. Whatever it was looked like me in every way, except for its clothes and eyes. Same skinny build, same brown hair, same cowlick over our right eye. It wore a black leather jacket and dark jeans, twirling a dagger easily. What really caught me off guard were its eyes; the left one a deep, bloody red, and the right darker than a moonless night.

"What are you supposed to be?" I demanded, not really expecting an answer.

I got one anyways. "I am a part of you, now," sneered the version of me I was starting to think of as the Other. "You can't shake me."

For a moment my very distractable brain thought of how odd it was to hear my own voice coming from a source other than me, even if it was a bit deeper and more menacing.

"You're just a figment of my subconscious," I retorted dismissively.

The Other laughed. "Deny me all you want, but I kept us alive. You will either accept me, or eventually become me."

I became annoyed. "Look, I don't know what you're doing here, but get out of my subconscious. I'm having enough trouble trying to figure out what's going on with me while I'm awake. I know Jack Grymwood, and in no scenario would he decide to pick up a random skinny teen unless he had a good reason."

The Other smirked, an expression I often wore when one of my friends did something stupid. "Return to your precious character, then, and see how much of this is in your head. If that isn't real enough for you, and the thought of gremlins anand mockers seems like just a bad dream, how come we managed to get wounded?"

I opened my mouth for a snarky retort when the implication of what it suggested hit me. The kind of pain a dagger slicing into your arm entailed a dreamer would wake up, unless they were in a coma or something. "So that's one discrepancy. So what? My dreams have always been weird."

"Then what is this?"

Once again I pulled up short. "A dream within a dream?"
The Other laughed. "Face it, we are trapped within a world of our own creation. I am just the part of us that can keep us alive." The Other chuckled. "Who did you think dealt with that gremlin? You?"

I glared at the Other. "It was you, wasn't it?"

Another smirk. "Who else?" It drew closer, whispering into my ear. "Think about it. I might just be our salvation."

"Or our death..." I muttered.

~~End