Darwin was the forefront of human civilization. Through the concerted effort of the Citystates, it became the golden child, the shining beacon of hope going forward. After the early 1900s’ magic revolution, the supernatural and science were forced into cohabitation. Witches and wizards weren’t just a folk tale. Vampires were real, and oh-so-alluring. Ghosts learned how to commune with their descendents. Hand in hand with the most brilliant mortal minds, these occultic myths rose to the spotlight of society, redefining everything that humanity thought it knew. Darwin was the epicenter of the new millenium.
Darwin was.
The city still stood, a towering metropolis flanked by closely-knit suburbs on the bank of a great river. The people still went about their daily lives and nine to fives. Something had changed though. The streets were more sullen and devoid of life. At night, windows were closed, doors were bolted, and children refused to cry. The optimism that carried humanity through the new millenium had vanished. The old tales and legends were true—and here to stay.
…
There’s a myth that slinks through the alleys and survives on hushed whispers and backroom talks. They say that if you’re stuck without a path of escape, tied so tightly the noose is already around your neck, and trapped such that you’ve already sunk six feet under, to look for a place called Maccas. In Darwin, the maxim is to never attract attention. Still, if you can’t help it, if you find yourself caught in something beyond your control or out of your depth, try going to Maccas. Aster might help you if you buy a burger and fries.
Of course, in Darwin there is no such thing as myth.
In the corner of a dark sidestreet, wedged between two foreclosed properties, lay the narrow entrance to a quaint restaurant. A pair of golden arches flickered in its window. At a glance, it was no more well kept than its neighbors. The glass was smudged and grimy. The air smelled of mildew with a faint trace of unspeakables. No sane soul in their right mind would think to stop and enter, much less pay it any heed of mind or, god forbid, purchase any form of sustenance from it. You step in.
Today’s your first day on the job.
Hosted and narrated by:
alch
Started 08/14/18.
Scenes played: 1
License: Community License
