When Worlds Collide

When Worlds Collide

For years and years myths and legends have circulated the world and its cultures surrounding mysterious events that cannot be explained without diving a little bit into the vast sea of the occult. Folklore, stories passed on through generations by word of mouth or poorly written scriptures upon parchment or engraved into stone. Your grandfather’s father might have sat upon his parent’s knee and listened, maybe it was bedtime, maybe it was to kill the period before dinner but he probably told him some form of story, a tale that was told by his own grandfather and then passed down through the generations until it reached finally reached you. Years would have taken toll upon them, facts and details could change but in the end, the basic plot remains. As a child, you might have believed them but as you grow, you choose to or not. Were they designed to spook you? Created so you would eat your vegetables? Who knows, your families’ tales, your decision. One thing I would like to point out though is, you are one of billions. Could it be that only your family know these tales? When you think about it ,that is fairly unlikely. There is bound to be many people out there who were told stories as children, not stories from books either.
If you look around, folklore is everywhere. Every town has its own version of a unique story. Fairies live in the field behind the school, Goblins live under that bridge. Not only stories but superstitions are passed down. Write your wish upon a leaf and float it down the stream and if you behave those who live in within might grant it.
To be honest, that is not what i am trying to get at, to me, those are too farfetched, too out-landish. In fairness, those could be true who am i to judge? For now though, I’d like to point to the more frequent tales ones that appear everywhere it doesn’t matter where you are in the world. Enough beating around the bush, let us get onto subject shall we.
Ghost stories, to believe in them are to put belief into an afterlife. A highly controversial concept among many groups religious or scientific either way, there are quite a few who trust in them. To continue on with the folklore babble i was raving on about before, some of these stories are also passed down within it. Tales of how a silvery figure patrols the grave yard at night , tales of how a pale apparition appears suddenly to visitors at a prison ,tales of monstrous beasts that roam the countryside and kill your cattle while your mother sleeps with the local baker!!
There are many stories, unique to location and circumstance but one thing stays the same, they tend to be of bad omen, of another world plagued by the dead that wish to come to our world.

I myself cannot properly portray these tales to you as a professional story teller can. Through this method i cannot set the mood, i cannot lower and raise my tone of voice to unsettle you, i cannot do anything that would spook you.
But what i can do is inform you that this is just some poorly written prologue to another ghost story. A tale that you can choose to be a part of if you wish, just like you have the choice to believe in whatever you want.
It started with the dogs, not the pets or the wild version you find in some far away hot country but the black dogs themselves. Usually centered around the British Isles, but not limited to, are quite a few tales of giant black dogs with either fiery red or empty black eyes that either plague or assist lost travelers. Usually shrugged off as fatigued visions or even the big cat cyptids that roam the country side. Except, on one night more than one person, more than one account, told otherwise.

As most ghost stories go, this one starts on a cloudy moonlit night with no one around.

The sky lay littered in a blanket of ashen clouds bar a break that allowed the moon to shine through and light the path for a lost young man who wandered the dirt walkways in search of civilization. The sky above created a facade to those peering out their windows as outside it was quite warm, the wind lying low in some hidden place waiting for the right moment to pounce and send its cold whistling message though those who cared to wait.
The road was a typical countryside lane, years of repeated tractor wheels had pounded down the soil until it was nothing but dry earth leaving behind a brown snake that wound back home and lush green hedgerows ran beside it sealing the boundaries of the fields that lay beyond them. Despite the absence of twinkling stars above the night was a good one and as such the lost lad thanked them in return for a lovely calm night in which to get lost. The long winding paths created a maze like zone through tended fields that stretched on for miles upon miles. Dressed in nothing but his best shoes and fanciest shirt the young man had intended on a night full of drinking and chatting up of the womanfolk within which he hoped to get his end away. Sadly, the poor sap had fallen fowl of a group on a hen night and upon collapsing drunk the girls, out for a laugh decided to drop the guy they will never meet again in the middle of the English countryside. So the unlucky fellow then found himself woken by the calls of native birds in a small patch of woodland. Slightly disorientated but sober enough to know what had happened he then set upon his travels aiming to at least find a pay phone. To his dismay he found nothing but the dirt track he now shuffled upon. His feet aching he continued in his efforts until he came to a sudden halt. Before him lay a crossroads, a four way decision on which way to go.
With a heavy sigh he closed his eyes and stretched his arms readying to follow his decision and preparing for what he thought was a long walk ahead. Without opening his eyes he let his head fall back into to the wind which had now picked up. Whistling heavily it almost knocked the man from his footing. In an effort to steady himself he quickly opened his eyes and to his surprise he saw something by his side. After closing his eyes his sight became unfocused and all he saw was a black figure, surrounding two fiery red orbs. In the few seconds it took for his sight to refocus a slight panic struck the hardened city boy and in reflex he took leap back his fists rising to defend himself. After a few heavy breathes he realised what stood before him. Lowering his arms he laughed slightly as a scruffy oversized black dog let out a slight whine. He muttered to himself as the wolf like creature gazed into his eyes. Like fire they lit up the area slightly until they faded sending a chill down his spine. Shaking his head he turned from the creature and walked straight making his way over the cross roads, continuing in the direction he was originally heading. A few minutes passed and the young man turned to see if the hound had departed and within his expectation there was no dog standing at the crossroads. But upon this realisation there was another gust of heavy wind that caused him to squint and turn his head to the side. To his amazement the dog stood by his side once more, its fiery eyes gazing up into his. He turned his gaze back to the path ahead and began to walk it once more, the dog marching by his side.
A few hours passed as the dim light from the sun rising began light the fields, the man still trundling along tired and dirty yet still by his side remained the black dog. His blood shot eyes continued to avoid those of the eerie hound beside him as they had done for the remainder of the long night that he just survived. A smile graced his dry parched lips suddenly as in the distance he heard the reassuring rumble of a tractor engine. Soon after this his eyes spotted the shining metal work of the machine that came in his direction. His quick celebratory dance was cut short suddenly by a loud growling that came from his side. The beast that had accompanied him all night had now changed in temperament. Its shaggy black fur stood on end as it bared blood stained canines, while bleach white foam conjured from its mouth. The creature’s sight lay upon the incoming tractor as the male backed away slightly in amazement and fear. With a flash it turned to the male and lowered its head, the growling ceasing and the illusion of tameness reappearing,It’s fire red eyes now peering up at into his own. A few moments passed as the pair stared at each other , the male’s mind lay blank until he was snapped back to reality by another tapping him on the shoulder. He shook his head and saw that he was standing by himself. He asked the person to take him to the nearest town and the other obliged and soon they arrived in town. The whole journey the young man kept silent, until his eyes caught the view of sign that pointed in the direction of the lane he was walking upon.
“Black Dog Lane.”
The driver noticed the young man looking at the sign and chuckled slightly before jokingly saying a few words.
“They say a mysterious black dog roams those lanes. Accompanies lonely travellers and keeps them out of harms way. Fire red eyes they say light path and keep them warm. Never seen it myself, just drunken tales.”
The young man nodded slightly, still speechless.

Well that’s the end of that story, many cropped up in local news papers as those towns with local myths of black dogs began to see them more often. Sadly, most myths of black dogs are of benevolent spirits. As such people out at night began to go missing or returned claiming that they were bitten by a large creature. With these bite marks people were led by the main media and police that large cats were in fact roaming the countryside.
But as i said, they were the beginning. Soon more and more “apparitions” began to appear. Ghost sightings becoming more and more popular. Small places at first, places were ghostly activity had been reported. Places assumed to be closer to the spirit world, such as burial grounds and cemeteries, places of mass tragedies.
Of course, there was no proof, just eye witness accounts. These specters didn’t appear when people were in large groups or when expected and per usual the minority was not listened to and the reports were labeled as a waist of time.
To begin with, only a select few saw them. They walked the streets like us. Ghostly white featureless clouds slid behind us only visible from the corner of your eye. More and more appeared, each time you saw them, their figures becoming more and more defined. Yet some people, clearly did not see, they went on with their daily life unaware in oblivious ignorance ignoring warnings of those who cared enough to mention what stalked them.
It went on for a few weeks. More and more began to see and yet some remained unable. This small craze was picked up upon by the vulture like psychics and mediums that used this to their advantage and made a few quick bucks. Well that was until those who had stronger psychic abilities began to become unstable.
You see, from what i have come to a simple conclusion about this. Maybe in the beginning these people had some sort of “Power” to sense these things that circle us every day but with some sort of increase these creatures have themselves become more powerful. As such even people with even the tiniest amount of psychic ability have come to see this ever growing phenomenon. Well as to why the strongest among us had become well, crazier(?).They hear them. These things around us, they can communicate. Before these people could apparently talk to them, but now, too many voices plague their thoughts driving them insane.
This then leads me to why? I know i know, so many un answered questions but i am here writing this out of my own kindness. I don’t give a shit about what you want.Oh Yea,back to what i was saying.
Why? How?
Simple is it not? Two worlds, one for the living one for the dead. It does not matter if you believe in the afterlife or not but what is happening is real and it is happening. The worlds are coming together. Apparently it has been happening for a while but lately due to less and less people trusting in superstition the warnings were ignored. All these stories of ghosts and the like stem from ages ago, back when people trusted in their eye and not science. Do not get me wrong, science is wonderful, it explains the universe but can it explain this? Suppose it could, there are many theories that talk about parallel universes this could be one right?
In the end, it does not matter, these are just my words. How do i know this?
The voices told me of course.

The world is gripped in terror as the dead seem to be seeping back to the world of the living. Ghostly figures crawl upon the streets of towns and cities stalking random members of the public and then taking their forms for their own. Demonic poltergeists work their way into places of mass population and wreak havoc upon them with their own brand of meaningless chaos. Even sleep is not safe as children and adults alike are haunted by laughs and giggles, nightmares and pain while they attempt to rest.
A famous book once spoke about a judgment day, the end of all. Sadly, that is not the case. Two worlds are slowly becoming one and as the fusion nears completion the beings that inhabit the mirror like world gain strength and they do not want to share.

There are a few among the human population who are able to see and sense these spirits. Be it via past experience, witnessing or even having a guardian angel by their side. It is by their choice that they either help those you cannot see or keep their small gift to themselves. Either way, you cannot hurt what you cannot see.

you can start your journey however you like but the ending , you might not like, so please, enjoy yourselves.

Name- Duncan mcKay Wallace

Age- Twenty

Gender- Male

Appearance- Duncan has long black hair, which he parts down the middle, he has big, cold, brown eyes, that seem to stare through whoever duncan looks at. He has a long face, with a short nose. He wears the finest black pants money can buy, with a black silk shirt. Duncan often wears a long black trench coat, with a scottish claymore slung over his back. Duncan is also tall, somwhere around six foot one. Duncan also wears crimson red shoes.


Accessories- A four foot scottish claymore, which some people believe is the same sword that the great william wallace once wielded. Duncan also wears thin chain mail underneath his trench coat, which also conceils small knives, and daggers. Duncan also conceils two magnum revolvers underneath his trench coat as well, one of them is named lust, the other is named love.



Route of sight?- Duncan was bit by a black dog when he was thirteen years old, one time he went hunting with his father, and got seperated, the only way duncan found his way back to his camp was because of a mysterious black dog, with glowing red eyes led him back. As duncan went to pet the canine, the animal snapped at duncan. Then vanished. Since that point on duncan has always felt another presence with him. Somthing he couldn't explain.



Background- Duncan was born in scotland, from child hood duncan has been training with his ancestor's claymore, which some people believe was william wallace. Skilled with all sort's of bladed weopens, duncan's parents we're mysteriously murdered a year ago, and since then he has sworn vengence against those that took his parents, born in south scotland, duncan is used to living off the land, your modern day ranger. Duncan is also skilled at wielding two handguns at a time, but he prefers his claymore. But his gunslinger skills are well above par.

name- Lyrea Alectorius

age - twenty one

gender - Female

appearance - She is 5’5” with waist length dark blonde hair with chestnut steaks, and aquamarine eyes. Her figure is generally slim and lightly toned. She wears flowing clothes, though not over the top decorative ones. They are a bit torn and worn by now but still good. She wears a loose light blue shirt held back by a simple black belt, black trousers, a very worn pair of simple trainer like shoe that might have been white but are now a beige colour. She also has a warm soft white coat that she wears either around her waist or on her shoulders as usual.

accessories - A 48” yew and horn composite bow, the heirloom necklace mentioned below, a simple steel dagger, and a small leather backpack with some supplies and all her possessions in it.

route of sight - There is a one of a kind family heirloom, a sturdy leather cord necklace on which hangs a dark blue rutted and bumpy stone about the size of a bottle cap. It is egg shaped and speckled with blood red and bone white spots. Set in a delicately elaborate Victorian silver setting this Alectorius stone, (from which their family got their name) grants the wearer sight beyond what is usual into the hidden realms. It also helps prevent disease, prolongs the life of the wearer, and is considered a general lucky charm, though not to overly abnormal standards.

background - Lyrea was born into a wealthy and well respected family because of their reputation with the famed necklace. However the delicate peace was overturned when animals and people started to disappear. Rumours started to spread saying Lyreas family had summoned some creature with the necklace. It was some shadowy creature, the Alectorius family knew it, but the people didn’t and were frightened. So the only people that could see and get rid of the monster were attacked and imprisoned, except for Lyrea who managed to escape. She wandered away from the place confused and alone not knowing what happened to her parents and barely surviving on her own. She managed to live with a few people on farms and other quiet rural places until they found something a little too strange about her and she was forced to move on. Due to how she was treated she became a quiet and withdrawn girl, and distrusting of most people. Her incredible speed and accuracy with her elegant bow shows her hours of practise with it. She finds target practise one of the most relaxing things to do since the bow is only thing left of her previous life, besides the cursed necklace.

name(s)- Joy Fay

age – twenty

gender – female

appearance – She has blonde hair which spirals down to her waist as she often keeps it in a braid. Loose strands frame her oval face with its rosy complexion, stormy, grey eyes and a wide, slow smile. She wears a long, gypsy skirt with a dark red top and a long, torn, purple, velvet coat, along with many beaded bracelets and a necklace with a cross pendant (not for a religious reason, but because the nuns at the orphanage had given it to her to “keep the spirits away” and so she kept it as a reminder of her cursed ability). She’s fairly tall at 5’8, and always followed by her ginger cat, Jet.

accessories – She has various daggers hidden about her person, ones which she can use very agilely when in need, and an old pistol hanging from her belt and hidden under her long coat.

route of sight- Every since she was a little girl she’s had a psychic intuition she couldn’t quite explain. She saw white forms floating on their wayward way, and “spirits” were drawn to her, sometimes even trying to communicate.

background – Born on a small island off the coast of northern Scotland, her birth mother left her on the steps of an orphanage the very day she was born, and that’s where she grew up. Because of her unique psychic ability, her strange tendency to talk to “spirits”, she grew up an outcast, and at the age of sixteen ran off, taken a ferry to the mainland and has been on the road ever since. For a while she travelled with a roaming group of gypsies, at another time she worked a stint with a travelling circus, and once she even spent a while travelling with a friendly friar. Somewhere along her travels she was joined by a scrawny, ginger cat, which she called Jet, and they became inseparable.