This is not my story.

This is, in fact, a different story seen through my eyes. This is the story of my damnation, through my own efforts. I have destroyed everything that was good in my life, and am now haunted by my own actions. This is the story of how I killed literally everything worth living for, and am cursed with a seemingly endless life.

It started years ago, when my brother and I moved out of my parent’s house. Our dad was an alcoholic, and it drove a wedge between us. Our mom is an angel. She sends us food and seeds to keep us going. Letters are all that keep us together, since neither of us are stepping foot in that house again.

My brother and I lived in a tumble-down shack, about a mile from the Ridgeback Mountains. Another thing you need to understand, is that we were incredibly close. He always protected me from Dad, and I stuck by him when we moved out. We also look exactly like each other. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt my brother. Of course I wouldn’t. Wouldn’t I?

Over breakfast, we talked about the mining business, and moving into the City. We joked about this often, because we both hated mining. Such a dangerous job for such meager pay. At the rate we were earning and saving, it’d be years until we could afford an apartment in the City. But it was hope, which was something beautiful.

The two miles between our house and the Mine was mainly grassland, with the remainder of ancient tree stumps and a cover of dirt. If we backtracked from our house, we could take the trolley that runs between the nearest outpost and the City. We only do this when we had a large payload from working in the mines, since the fee was steep.

The mine lay about 300 feet above the base of the mountain. The administration offices, smelters, and tool buildings were in a compound set back from the base by a couple hundred feet. A staircase led from the compound up to the entrance. Our boss was an understanding guy, but even he had his limits.

“Damn it, you two are about two weeks behind in labor! Any defense, or should I just throw you both out?” My brother responded, as he usually did. “If you were to throw us out, you would put yourself even farther behind schedule. We’ll be staying late for the next couple weeks to make up time.”

The boss shook his head, marveling at how my brother could turn a situation on it’s head. “Fine. Next time though, I’ll be sacking you both, and replacing you with automatons. They don’t even require payment! Come to think of it…” My brother tugged my sleeve, and dragged me out of the building before the boss could get any more ideas.

We went to the tool shed, and grabbed our tools. He used a sledgehammer, but I preferred a mattock. Grabbing our kerosene lamps, we went up the stairs to the mine. Since we were behind quota on iron and coal, we decided to try a new tunnel. It had been recently blasted, and wasn’t properly shored up yet. We began to clean it up, so the shoring crew could secure it within the next few days.

You can run out of oxygen incredibly fast down in the mines, especially when you have two flames lit. We had to make several trips topside, to renew both our lungs, and our kerosene. It was almost quitting time, but since we were staying late, my brother went up to grab our dinner. I kept working, since I wasn’t feeling light-headed from lack of oxygen. I saw a easy rock to knock out of the wall, knowing that if I could find some ore, the boss would be much happier with us. I hit the rock with my mattock, and the next thing I knew, I had half a ton of rock collapsing on my chest and legs.

There is no natural light that filters that deep underground, so after a rock hit my lantern, I was in complete darkness. I was in incredible pain, and for what seemed like hours, I lay there, slowly feeling every bone in my body being crushed by the intense weight. Luckily, most of the miners hadn’t left yet, and they all felt the tunnel collapse. They came down, to see what had happened, and when they saw me, most of them ran back topside to get shovels and buckets.

One of them had found my brother, who was trying to get the shoring crew to appraise the tunnel for stabilizing. He ran down into the mine, and found me covered in rock. The other miners had been coming in incrementally, slowly moving rocks off of me, shattering them, and shoveling them into buckets. I was lucky, my head was free the entire time. Slowly, they uncovered my shoulders, then my torso, then my legs.

I couldn’t move anything. My entire body felt like it was burning up from the inside. I knew that I would never walk again, and I wept. Someone brought the gurney that was kept for situations like this. The miners escorted my brother and I to the the Outpost, and payed for our fair to the City. I still could move anything below my neck, and if I wasn’t in so much pain, I’d have been terrified. Everyone gave us a wide berth on the trolley, which was fine by me.

The City was an amazing place, especially that time of year. Airships floated above us, as automatons pulled carriages through the streets. Fountains spewed crystal water up, and let it fall into wishing wells and pools. Of course, I cared nothing about this. My brother pushed me to the primary hospital.

“Look at him! Have you no compassion?” My brother was yelling at the nurse. “Sir, in order to see a doctor, you must be able to pay. We cannot let everyone in for free. Your brother’s condition is… unfortunate, but there is nothing we can do.”

After my brother stopped cursing, he pushed me out of the lobby. We went to the slums, to see if we could find a magician or apothecarist who could help me. Eventually, we found a cozy shop, whose marquee read “Murray and Corvus; Apothecarist and Magician”. My gurney barely fit through the small door. Inside, the shop smelled like tobacco and cumin, which were both comforting smells.

The man behind the counter looked up from his spices, and after seeing me, ran a bell that sounded from a back room. An interesting looking man walked out. He was about six feet tall, with a braided beard that led to his waist. A beret hung off his head, cocked to the side. I assumed this was Corvus the Magician.

Corvus spoke, “Why have you brought this man to me?” His voice was smooth, too smooth. My brother answered him, “My brother cannot move, has most of his bones broken, and is in incredible pain. Could you help him?” The Magician nodded, and levitated me towards the back room he had come from, leaving my brother with the shopkeeper (probably Murray), and the empty gurney.

The back room had no windows, and was lit by a green lamp in each corner. There was a chair, with a bed opposite it, which he laid me down on. Breaking his spell, I fell just a little bit onto the bed, and even the cushions couldn’t keep me from screaming.

He examined me, probing me with his magic. He had his eyes closed the entire, and once he opened them, I knew he had found something. “You are paralyzed from your neck down. I’d assume you were in a mining accident? Yes, it was the one I could feel from here. Very interesting.”

I wasn’t impressed. “Sir, what can you do for me?” He stood from his chair, and paced the room. “There is no mending this much damage, not without a veteran healer. I am not good with healing magic, but I am good with another form, that might interest you.”

I was incredibly impatient. “What is it?” The Magician sat back down. “It involves creating a world inside your mind. You would live a lifetime in a day. Or, of course, you could live with this pain for months, until it finally goes away. Even then, your best case scenario would be to never move voluntarily again. Worst case is you contract an infection, and you die within a week. That is the more likely option.”

I pondered this momentarily. If I were to decline the treatment, where would I go? I loved my brother too much to put this burden on him, and I knew he loved me too much to to do anything less. I would not go back to Mom and Dad’s, as if Dad would even let me within twenty feet of the house under normal circumstances. Adding another mouth to feed would mean less money for his whiskey. Add onto that the fact I might die of an infection within a week, I made my decision. “Tell me about your magic. Would someone need to care for me?” The Magician sat back down. “No, your mind would work at an accelerated rate, to the point you could live several lifetimes before dying in your normal body.” This piqued my interest. “What would this cost?” The Magician held up his hands, placating me. “I will work out a price with your brother. Now relax, for this will hurt momentarily.” The Magician stood, and put his hands next to my ears. As he spoke his incantation, I slowly felt my body warming, until it felt unbearable hot. Then I was out.

When I woke up, I was in a different world. The first thing I noticed was that I could walk. The second thing was that I was surrounded by blocks. The world was made out of blocks, which was weird. I got used to it though, and survived. I made a life for myself, it was nice. I almost forgot about my brother, and the other world.

One night, I was coming home from trading with the local villagers. It was warm, and the moon was full. As I walked up to my house, I noticed a light coming from behind. Walking around, I saw something strange.

It was a ghost, floating a foot above the ground. I would not have been able to tell it was a specter, except that he was floating a foot above the ground, and his eyes were bright white. But the thing that scared me the most, was that his face looked familiar. I am still ashamed that I didn't instantly recognize him. It was my brother.

I ran to him, incredibly glad to see him. "Brother! How are you here?" I tried to embrace him, but I slid right through him. He just looked at me, with sadness deep in his glowing eyes. "I came to say goodbye."

He stared at me, and I could not figure out why he was sad. "Why are you sad? This is great! I thought I would never see you again!" My brother shook his head at me, as if surprised at my ignorance. "You don't understand. I am to die tomorrow, sacrificed to the old gods, after months of slaving to fulfill YOUR debt." He said this with a small amount of malice, and I began to see what he was talking about. "No, it can't be! The Magician said he'd..." He cut me off. "He did settle your debt with me, by turning me into his slave. Tomorrow, he is to kill me and take my soul to aid in some devil ritual to make himself young again. He gave me one chance to explain things to you; to say goodbye."

I couldn't believe it. I tried talking, to apologize, but my brother began to de-materialize. "This is it. I hope you're happy, little brother, because I'm paying for it."

I cried, I screamed, and it did nothing. My brother disappeared, and took any semblance of happiness from me. I tried to forget, but there was no alcohol in my mind. I tried permanently forgetting, by jumping off a cliff. I woke up the next morning with a headache, but none worse for wear. But then I began to see him again.

I see him every now-and-again, even though he isn't here. Guilt has torn my brain in pieces, and now my eyes reflect that. I will wake up in the morning, and find holes in my house, lava on my lawn, or monsters knocking down my door. I have no idea how he does it, especially because he's dead. There is one possibility, that I am committing these acts against myself, that deep down, I'm trying to let my brother live another life. I don't know.

I saw him today. Next to him was a dead pig, which had its neck sliced open. He was using its blood to write a message on my walls. When he had finished, he turned to me, and vanished. Why does he torment me so? I wish I had died in that cave-in.

You know what my brother wrote? He wrote: