Beep - Blog Posts

"No," He says with a fire in his eyes, teeth bared in a snarl, "You people aren't taking my kid again,"

"This is the first time we've attempted the ritual," the head of the order protests, "You are mistaken,"

"No," the man says again, almost spits it out like it's covered in acid, "It may not have been you that took him. Probably ain't even the same world that he already saved. And you know what happened? He did it,"

Head Mage Pofinerus smiles, and steps further into the jaws of a lion. "Then it must work! He is already a hero, he can save us. He returned to you a hero-"

"He returned to me covered in blood!" The man roars.

He was called John, short for Johnathan. A normal name, for a normal man, who lived a content life with his son, who on holidays and every other summer lived with his mother. His son was the light of his life.

His son stepped out the door one day with a smile.

His son knocked on the door one day, like he didn't have the right to be there anymore.

His son woke up screaming some nights, and would cry out horrors John didn't understand, but wished he could if only for his son.

His son stared out the window some nights, and asked John to remind him the name of the constellations because he had forgotten their names in his time away.

So, so long away.

His son.

His child.

His baby boy, whose voice had only just begun to crack when he stepped out the door, and who knocked on the door with dead eyes.

"No," John said again, perfectly enunciating the word in a way he hadn't seen his high school theatre class, "You don't get to have my son. You don't get to hurt him anymore. I can't fight the monsters underneath his bed," John pumped the shotgun and leveled it at the robed creep in front of him, "But I can sure as hell fight you."

An order of magicians attempts to summon a child hero with a pure heart to save their world from evil forces. They instead get his 40-something-year old dad, with a shotgun.

I got a new sketchbook!! But at what cost..