Killing the Creator (part 15)

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Al gulped. “Tell me you’re just messing with me, Spruce.”

“I wish I could, Al.” I spread my hands. “But that’s what they all said.”

“They could be lying,” he said hopefully.

“I hope for our sakes they were.”

“Isn’t there any way to, like, sever the connection?”

“Not that I know of.” I sighed. “I think our best course of action now would be to poison the Creator and get the hell out of here soon as we can. Maybe the midnight man will abandon us if we travel to a different world altogether.”

“Maybe? We can’t risk our asses on a ‘maybe’, Spruce.”

“I personally prefer ‘maybe we’ll live’ to ‘we will definitely die’.”

Al gave his trademark slight frown which indicated he agreed with me but didn’t want to say so.

“Right then. Let’s see where botox gets us.”

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Killing the Creator (part 14)

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A steady breeze rustled the leaves of the trees in Nehru Park and made the clothes hanging out on the railings of the houses surrounding it flutter ghostily. The Park was deserted, the time being 2 A.M., except for three people who were standing in a triangle near the henna bushes.

A tall bespectacled girl with tangled brown hair stood at one end, her usually alert grey eyes heavy and tired. But she still stood upright, never slouching.

“I gave everything for this.” She locked eyes with the denimmed boy at the apex of the triangle. “You have to.”

Before he had a chance to reply, however, the short girl with a long black ponytail at the other end addressed him.

“I know you’re not a bad person,” she said, her soft brown eyes pleading. “What we had was not all fake, you know. We laughed at your name, remember?” She was trying to be strong and not let them see her cry. “I beat you at badminton.” She smiled sorrowfully.

The tall girl was starting to say something, but the boy didn’t hear it. A loud ringing filled his ears and-

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Killing the Creator (part 13)

Click here to read the previous parts.

After hours in the local cyber cafe, I finally knew enough to tackle the midnight man and find out Rennie’s location. Or, at least I hoped I did.

The process of befriending the Creator was, of course, still going on simultaneously. She seemed to be a nice person for the most part, except for the part where she’d killed my parents as a means of ‘character development’. And the part where she’d basically messed up ‘Grey Earth’ for her ‘dystopian YA sci-fi fantasy’, as she put it. It seemed absurd to me that an innocent-looking girl could be the monster at the end of the book, quite literally.

I’d also checked into a room at Hotel Parth Paradise (as I’d told the Creator) after all, since I had to stay somewhere.

I’d sold a couple more gold coins at a jewellery store and bought a hydraulic press from an online shopping website. I’d stocked up on salt, bought silver knives and learnt the number sequence from the Korean elevator ritual by heart. With luck, my plan would work.

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