Creeper - 1. Chapter 1: A Foretold Event

A Foretold Event

CREEPER was a bug. His job was to watch the watchers who watched. Yes it gets complicated. He had been at this job all his life it seemed because he had. And he was proud of the fact that he had saved the Prince at least three times. Of course no one knew this except him and one other. Creeper was a very clever bug, he had talents. And he came by them unnaturally, he was half demon. He was the offspring of his mistress and a cull, or at least she thought that at the time. His mistress soon had her doubts. Because Creeper has very dominant characteristics. Creeper laughed at this thought. Oh yes, he would of run away from his mistress a long time ago if it wasn’t for some very strange circumstances. He well, well… he loved his mistress. And he was almost as glued emotionally to the Prince. At the moment Creeper was clinging up side down in a ceiling corner of the Prince’s bedroom. He was not invisible of course, no need to be. He was just faded. A part of the background. Unnoticed. He rested here almost every night. Keeping watch over the Prince. No one taught Creeper how to hang faded from the ceiling, his talents were instinctual. Mistress did teach him how to behave human. Which was not easy considering his other half was not human. Oh no not human at all. His mistress was all whimsy, every inch of her. And she guarded her true form with all intent. Creeper had clues from over the years. But still he could not piece it all together. Well he could always ponder that again tomorrow.

Creeper stared down at the sleeping beauty. He remembered the night the Prince was born. Creeper was nine months old himself that night, he had been born the night the Prince was conceived and after nine months had matured into a young boy of nine years apparent age. He would hold that age until the Prince caught up with him. Well the Prince was no baby any more. For years Creeper was the Prince’s imaginary friend, as the rest of the world called him. He lay on the floor at the babe’s cradle and then later at the side of his bed, until the boy reach the age of nine. Creeper frowned at the memory. He remembered the boys lament at the lost of his precious Creeper.

It had been the Prince who had named Creeper. To his mistress Creeper had been simply a bug. “Watch Bug. Listen Bug. Do Bug. Protect Bug.” She would command. The Prince’s first word was not Mama or Nana or Dada, no it was Creeper. And the young Prince would shriek it and stare and try to reach and then crawl and then toddle after Creeper. Shrieking and laughing his day away. Happy. Of course this was baffling. Until Creeper’s Mistress came up with the explanation of an imaginary friend. And of course the embellishments of high intelligence and superiority didn’t hurt either. This explanation didn’t satisfy Creeper though. It did not explain why the Prince could see him.

Yesterday was the Prince’s eighteen birthday. His health had always been delicate but his spirit was full of life. He lived his life to the fullest. But it was obvious that the Prince was not robust. He would become winded even riding hard and he was subject to sudden fainting spells. Not even Creeper knew the full truth of the situation. But that would change with the coming of this morning.

The Prince awoke. He yawned and stretched in his bed. He always woke to a feeling of joy. He always felt so loved and protected and well safe. He knew there was danger. There was always the threat of assassination. And well there was always poison. And there was always warnings and prophecies and auguries. But life was good. Even with his weak health life was good. He couldn’t wait to start his day. And he always started his day with a good tug of war. He smiled and turned on his back throwing the duvet and sheets to the floor. One good tug and a wiggle and his nightshirt hit the floor too. Naked to the world he grinned and giggled and stretched again. How many times had Creeper watched this display? How many times had he joined in? Every single time.

The Prince played his sword. Oh he wanted that moment. He craved it. Yet it was not the end he sought. The end was always good. The final victory. But what he wanted most was that moment he lost himself. The moment it all changed. The moment he felt someone else’s hand on his sword. The moment he felt another’s sword in his hand. It was ecstasy.

Creeper stared down at the Prince matching each move with his own. Stroke for stroke he synchronized his movements and then he merged their minds and finally he switched places. At least partially. His hand was now stroking the Prince and the Prince was now stroking Creeper. This ritual was learned and perfected over the first years of their mutual tugging. It was now a tug of war to see who could make the other cum first.

Desperate to hold out and on the verge of coming, Creeper used his secret weapon. In his mind he licked the Prince’s tip. And the Prince exploded. No literally the Prince’s weak heart exploded. It was ecstasy and death. And the shared experienced shocked Creeper to his empty core. And it was only instinct again that sent him jumping thru the air. Catching at that moment a sparkling tiny light in his mouth. Creeper swallowed and landed on the floor before his Prince. His dead Prince. Creeper crawled unto the bed and cradled the limp body in his arms. Simultaneously, a tear fell from his eye, his first one, and the door to the Prince’s room opened.