A Self-Study Within A Broken Mind

I have been told about my birth many times, and though the tales vary person to person, each upholds the basic theme of an unending conflict between two empires. From my first breath of dry, hot air, I was allied to one side, while wrapped in cloth of the other’s banner. I don’t believe that was when my story began, but to my family, and my affiliation, that day was the moment of great victory and pride. My first cry was drowned out by a cheer over the endless armies of red. Though they both carried that crimson banner, it was the emblems upon them that differed two proud empires. Ours was the golden scorpion, and theirs, the black wasp. We were the two factions that have been at war spanning uncounted millennia, always finding new ways to hurt each other instead of reaching a peace. It wasn’t until me that the cracked earth stopped running red with blood, but more on that later. “Amidst the glorious battle,” my dad bellowed to men gathered around us. “I felt the pain of my child arriv...

Now at the new notebook, of shade green, I sat at my morning coffee pondering how I could best approach Rebecca’s space and talk to her rather than fight. I had this feeling that a duel was inevitable, a struggle between the two of us comparing who could better bend her space to their will. What could she do that I wasn’t prepared for? Did Crimmy, like beast, think up dark imagery of torture and torment for Rebecca? Time drew short before work, and if I was to be stuck in this space, this notebook, I’d have to resolve it quickly. With a sharp breath, I entered Rebecca’s space high above the neighborhood. She expanded the few houses to about thirty, and each had a light on while the sky was still dark. The realistic sun simulation mirrored my reality in darkness. I was without form, but thanks to the dumb child part of my mind, Rebecca was already aware that I was there. Hopefully, she had no idea where, but when the library house exploded, I knew that she was waiting there for me. It ...

I arrived at the library on the following Monday to find Rebecca sitting atop a bookshelf, overlooking the library. It took me a second to realize that it wasn’t really Rebecca but Shadowbecca. Dividing herself was a slippery slope to actually splitting her mind like me. She could create versions of herself to make certain things easier, but the danger came from the clones becoming self-realized. I decided to test the reality of these copies. I floated up and sat next to Shadowbecca. “Do you speak, or did Rebecca make you mute to make sure you could stealth around?” I asked, but no response came. Minutes passed as I waited for Rebecca to run in and force me between her legs to mingle our beasts, but nothing occurred. I drifted off into a memory of Tiarto’s story and pondered how I could bring him to the world stage. “I can speak,” Shadowbecca said, focusing me back to the library. I looked around, but it was just the two of us. What was Rebecca doing that was so important that she di...