The second Vince heard the voice, he instantly started looking around. All he saw was the city of Koburn and the distant mountains.
Then, without even feeling it, he knew the voice would come back again, the voice of the female.
"Welcome back… Vince Huamán." The voice echoed across Koburn. Looking down, Vince saw each of the houses start to vibrate, almost breaking.
Vince looked down in shock, almost pale, his eyes wide open. She shook the houses from the windows. His thoughts ran wild as he tried to even think of that amount of power. Feeling the pressure and aura alone from whoever was speaking, Vince instantly looked upward with strained eyes.
"W-W-Who are you!" His tone was high and almost loud.
Then once again he heard and felt the voice speak. Feeling a sharp pain in his "ear," Vince touched it only for his "hand" to phase right through. He felt liquid flow down, but it wasn't there.
"Oh? Why are you speaking with such authority, Vince? However, Vince, why don't you remember me? You remember this place like the back of your hand. How come you spent twenty nine years here?" Her voice stayed threatening and overwhelming.
Vince could only stay still with his mouth shut, not saying a word, looking at his surroundings and trying to focus on anything else.
"Why am I here? And why are you doing this?" His voice was now steadier, less shaken, but still scared.
Feeling the god, she spoke again.
"You belong here. You're the reason why I am awake right now and breathing once again. I mean, you started to call it a false world recently." Her voice stayed demanding but more subtle.
Vince stood stone cold when he heard that. She was there the whole time.
Wait… that means she read my thoughts? Is she reading them now? And awake. I woke up a god? How? How?
Then the god spoke once again.
"Your thoughts are easily shown, little one. Why I am back again, I refrain from telling you. If you wish to know more, you will follow this simple task." Her voice faded out as it grew more subtle. Then Vince's vision went blank again. When it returned, he didn't feel the god speak anymore. This time, he was at the top corner inside a building.
Looking around, his heart dropped. He saw very dark oak wood, clean windows that had recently been washed, and a spotless floor. The building was cramped, where a small line would fill the whole place in an instant.
Why am I here. Vince felt his mind spinning as he finally looked at where he was, where he had worked for so long. Tears wanted to form, and they did, but he couldn't feel them.
He was at his old antique gun shop, the same one his boss ran.
Why can't I remember his damn name. Vince wanted to tap his "head," but his "hand" phased right through.
Looking around, Vince decided to float inside. The feeling of movement got easier as he drifted through the shop. His boss wasn't here, and Vince doubted anyone was even in this dreamlike world, or the false world as he had called it before. Looking around, he wanted to feel happy knowing he was back, but Vince knew he wasn't.
Which gun. Which gun was it.
Ah, that one. Noticing a gun leaning on the shelves, he saw a flintlock, an older piece. Vince looked over it, memorizing its dark deep wood and its sheepish golden lining.
Feels like a way back into memories. What was the history for this masterpiece.
Ah, I remember now. The flintlock was wielded by a pirate back in 1760. The man's name was Jack Dover, a force too strong among others. Now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure he was known for lighting his beard on fire to scare other pirates into thinking he was a ghost or whatever. I'm surprised it found its way here. Vince thought. As he focused more on it, he felt a change in his tone. The more he concentrated, the more it shifted. Then he suddenly spoke.
"Lets se-" Vince's eyes widened again as he checked his "throat." Instead of the female voice from before, this time it sounded strong, old, and raspy. As he spoke more, he realized his voice might have changed into the voice of Jack Dover.
Laughing a little, Vince looked at his "body." How unique is this. His mind filled with excitement.
He then turned to where the desk was. Behind it was a stone cold door that sent a couple shivers up his spine, though they quickly faded. Feeling curious, Vince decided to float inside the room.
The sound of things being moved could be heard, along with different groans.
"Oh, where is this damn gun." A raspy old man's voice echoed.
As Vince passed through the door, he saw his old boss. A little lump formed in his throat. Vince was used to seeing people dead or hurt, but this time he knew this person deeply, and it hit him harder.
There are people here. And they are actually alive. Vince thought.
After a few minutes, the old man stopped and sighed deeply.
"Is it really not here." He spoke in an old and saddened voice. Turning around, he looked into another crate, but when he did, the old man suddenly looked up.
He made eye contact with Vince.
"AH!" The old man screamed in horror as he stared at him. Vince's body couldn't be explained, completely different, out of this world. As he watched, all the gas lamps in the room suddenly flicked off, covering the room in darkness. Seeing the old man panic, Vince quickly appeared in front of him, waving his "arms," trying to convince him to calm down.
"Woah, calm down, I'm not a threat." Vince's voice was worrisome as he continued closer.
But as he did, the old man threw his hands forward.
"L-Leave! Please leave me alone!" The old man's cries filled the building, growing louder and louder.
Then he looked at Vince again, but this time the second their eyes met, the old man's eyes darkened and grew soggy. His body began to dry like a grape turning into a raisin. Instantly, he began aging more, squirming around and twisting.
"HELP! HELP, MAKE THIS STOP!" His voice grew deeper and lower with each word.
Then the man's skin started to fall off like an old zombie. Suddenly, maggots formed from nowhere, swarming into his eyes. Fear began to take over Vince.
No. No. I know. I know what's going to happen. I know what I did next.
Vince fearfully turned toward the door leading into the shop. His "heart" pounded, knowing who was going to show up. He knew the horror he felt that day. Then, like a skipped beat, he heard the deafening sound.
DING.