Jabari Dakarai, a creature of the sun and shadows, found himself entombed in Dangrandaga, a pit he never imagined. Darkness clung to him, a suffocating shroud. Vultures, grotesque shadows, tore at unseen carrion, their guttural cries echoing the vast, cavernous space. Giant bats, leathery wings slicing the stale air, circled overhead, their movements silent, predatory. A distant buzz, a cacophony of strange, alien sounds, vibrated through the rock, a constant hum of primordial chaos. Bones, bleached and brittle, littered the ground, a macabre carpet woven with the decaying flesh of forgotten beings. He stood transfixed, a prisoner not just of this place, but of his own despair. Where could he run? This bleak expanse stretched into a seemingly endless eternity, a dark planet born of punishment.
All this, for a woman. This crushing weight, the consequence of loving a werewolf. The injustice burned, a cold fire in his chest. Why did species exist if not to celebrate their differences? Why did the so-called superior beings enforce such rigid laws, stifling nature's course? He raged, a silent tempest within his own mind. Dangrandaga, a dumping ground for murderers, witches, thieves – all exiles from a civilized world. Vampires, werewolves, humans, all condemned. Now, a day-walker vampire, guilty of loving a wolf woman, joined their ranks. He never knew his parents, forged his own path among diverse beings, some kind, some cruel. He had survived so much, but this prison, this alien world, felt different. How would he endure? It was a regression, a plunge into an age of barbarism where only the strong and insane clung to life, the weak becoming mere sustenance. He sought refuge in a shallow stone cave, waiting for a dawn that might never come, hoping to find a way to navigate this brutal, new existence.
His mind, however, drifted back, a desperate escape to a time before this living hell, to Plagatoscal city, to Veronica. It was a Sunday afternoon, the sun a relentless hammer beating down on the city, the air thick with heat, well over thirty-two degrees Celsius. He stretched, feeling the familiar pull in his back muscles, the sun's fierce embrace on his dark skin. Sweat beaded on his forehead, trickling down his face. He lifted a hand to wipe it away when a voice, bright and insistent, cut through the humid air.
"Hello Jabari!"
He spun, a reflexive twist of his torso, to meet the emphasized greeting. Alexander approached, flanked by two striking women and a man, all beaming. Jabari's gaze, sharp and questioning, swept over them.
"Hello! How are you?"
"I am well, and how are you?" Alexander's excitement was palpable, an unfamiliar glee in his usually reserved demeanor. He gestured to his companions. "Jabari! These are Carlos, Veronica, and Freya."
Jabari extended his right hand to Carlos, a short werewolf whose face held no menace. "Hi Carlos, welcome to Plagatoscal city!"
Carlos's grip was firm. "Hello, thanks for receiving us in your territory."
Next, Freya, her smile enigmatic, her eyes, sharp and assessing, zoomed in on him. "It's nice to meet you, Freya!"
Her voice, a low murmur, carried a surprising edge. "The pleasure is all mine, Jabari." A blush rose on her cheeks as she dipped her head, severing the handshake.
Veronica stepped forward, her eyes locked onto his, a silent challenge. "Hi! Jabari," she offered her hand. He took it, his fingers enveloping hers, a jolt of energy, warm and infernal, sparking between their palms. His own voice, a faint, squeaky whisper, escaped him.
"Hello Veronica!"
In that suspended moment, the world dissolved. A magnetic pull, fierce and undeniable, tugged at his core. Her smile, a radiant beacon, pierced something deep within him. Her warmth, an electric current, coursed through his veins, mingling with his own, and he found himself unwilling to release her. A heavy thud, a sharp, resonant sound, broke the spell.
"Jabari!" Alexander's voice, laced with an unfamiliar tension, sliced through the air. He tried to break the unspoken connection, a strange possessiveness in his tone. Jabari, a vampire, Alexander a werewolf, yet the Alpha seemed… threatened.
Jabari blinked, the world rushing back into focus. He pulled his hand away, a faint flush on his cheeks. "It's nice to meet you, Veronica." Her energy still thrummed beneath his skin, an echo of her presence.
Alexander continued his introductions, seemingly oblivious to the lingering charge. "Jabari is a member of the Dystopian Community, an electrician by profession, now a farmer, and quite good at it." The trio nodded, their expressions unreadable. "These three are from Canstania city. They'll stay and work with us for a while. More information awaits you at the introductory meeting this evening in Dystopian Community Hall. See you later, Jabari." He raised a hand in farewell.
Carlos, Freya, and Veronica echoed the gesture, turning to leave. But Jabari's eyes remained fixed on Veronica, a silent hunger in their depths.
*What an interesting creature!* he whispered to himself. *I would love to dissect her, to get underneath that creation.* But he knew it was a dangerous, impossible thought. He returned to his work, the sun still beating down.
Later, as the afternoon softened into evening, around five, Jabari settled in his garden, guitar in hand. He strummed, a melody rising from the strings, a song for his own soul. He also watered his garden, moving the hose pipe from one bed of green beans to the next as the soil drank deep. He sang for three reasons: he believed plants listened, their energy resonating with his music, thriving under his melodic care. Customers attested to it, praising the unparalleled taste of his produce. He sang to release stress, to shed fatigue, to draw spiritual energy from the earth. And he sang to amplify his creative spirit.
Today, a fourth reason joined the chorus: to project love, to attract the beautiful woman who had captivated him. He understood the risk, the dangerous game, but he intended to win. *Trouble always finds peace*, they said. He believed Neville Goddard's words, "All the world is myself pushed out." Veronica, a wild, untamed side of himself he longed to explore. A wolf, yes, a different breed, but he relished challenges, loved playing with fire.
The guitar's rhythm flowed, a minor chord progression, jazz chords, six repetitions. Then, words formed, carrying on the melody.
"Energy! I am flowing in energy, this love is energy, I am flowing in energy, this love is energy." He sang it thrice, a mantra.
The second verse poured out, passionate and raw. "You fill me with your energy, you fill me with your love and give me a reason to go on."
"I have had the longest night, my nights were the darkest ones, I never thought I would find light."
"You induce in me ecstasy, a river full of bliss. Finally, all I can see is love."
The bean bed soaked, he moved the hose. As he returned to his seat, a figure caught his eye. A woman, clad in a pink-sleeved t-shirt and tight black pants, stretched, one leg draped over a tree branch, her form outlined against the fading light. She turned, occasionally glancing his way, performing her workout near Alexander's house, a mere hundred meters from his garden. It was Veronica.
*Are you into me as much as I am?* His heart hammered, a frantic drum against his ribs. He salivated, a primal urge, like a dog scenting grilled steak.
Alexander, five meters from Veronica, was engrossed in yoga. Their low murmurs were lost to him.
*She is definitely trying to seduce me,* he thought, the words almost escaping his lips.
*Don't play tricks on me. Don't you know the holy book says, 'I would give you spiced wine to drink, the nectar of my pomegranates. Do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires. Who is this coming up from the desert leaning on her lover?' And that is what I see you trying to do.* He declared it to himself, a warning and a promise.
*The monster in me is inferno love. Once awakened, it cannot be quenched.* He was deeply, irrevocably infatuated.
He shook himself from his reverie, his work finished. As he approached his compartment house, Boniface Daka, a human, stood at the main door.
"Good evening, Uncle Jabari?" Boniface greeted him, his enthusiasm bubbling. Their eyes met, each trying to decipher the other's mood.
"Good evening! I did not see you today?" Jabari inquired, a question in his tone.
Boniface practically vibrated with excitement. "Yeah, I was away in Brasion. Originally I wanted to sleep there, but they requested I come here to help welcome the visitors from Canstania."
"Will you give a new performance tonight?" Jabari asked, knowing Boniface's talent as a traditional cultural dancer.
"Definitely, yes, that is why I am here. Are you not going out tonight?"