Mistica Chronicles


Welcome to Issue 66

Pastiche Winning Entry

A figure clad all in black approaches you, his top hat slanted at just the right angle to hide his face. You look about wildly desperately hoping he isn’t approaching you. But alas, there is no one else around. The streets are strangely silent. Slightly panicked, you turn and face him head on ready for confrontation. A gun fight, a knife, a mugging – Whatever is going to happen, never let them say he caught you unprepared!

At least, you thought you were. He stops before you and a smooth feminine (feminine?!) voice speaks.

“Why hello there,” he (or rather she) takes off her hat and smoothly bows, “You seem to be rather lost.”

Bewildered, you just stare at her. She has short black hair and navy blue eyes. Somehow, you know she is a wintercursed braenon. Her actions take you by surprise, “A lady knight?” you think. Strange, but this is mistic, and there are stranger beings about; not all of them as human as she is.

She stands there patiently waiting for your reply. Just as you were about to respond…

“No matter, no matter. I’m in a bit of a hurry you see. Perhaps you’d like to aid me?” she pauses for a hairbreadth of a second, “Of course you would. I know. Your eyes tell me that you’re seeking an adventure!” She winks and laughs.

You can’t help but feel slightly flustered. “What kind of knight is she?” you think, eyebrows furrowing in slight annoyance, “You would think she’d be more chivalrous!”

She looks at you, an amused look on her face.

“You know, I never did tell you I was a knight,” she bends down on one knee to kiss your hand, “but its fun acting this way I think.” She chuckles.

“Y-you… I’m not a princess!” outraged, you snatch your hand away and stalk off at a rapid pace.

“As if I’d do someone like… like… that a favour!” you think angrily.

But in a few steps she’s already caught up to you and blocks your path.

“But my dear,” she says, “Please won’t you do me a favour?”

Her eyes, her dark, dark blue eyes, practically suck you in. So deep. They’re like an ocean of possibilities. With a small sigh you agree to listen to what she has to ask. Looking down at the floor you wonder what she could possibly ask of you.

She probably just wants you to buy her tea or the like. You stifle a laugh as you imagine her in a puffy dress drinking tea with her pinkie lifted just so. A knight turned lady. Now that would be quite a sight.

You look back up to her face, and rather than seeing her smiling face you see a frustrated one.

“You know, perhaps I shouldn’t ask a favour of you. You don’t seem very reliable.” She heaves a slight sigh, “But there’s no one else around this early in the morning.”

“But I’d really love you to do one little thing for me,” she looks at you, her face rapidly changed expressions with a twinkle in her eye, “Help me make Pastiche Entertainment a success? Or maybe start a business of your own.”

You stare at her confused. “What do you mean?”

“What I mean is work on your pet profiles a bit! I want to see more pets with a character rather than a blank. All of us pets want to be brought to life you know. We can’t live unless you give us life.”

“…”

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but wouldn’t it be nice to see some more filled in profiles? More colors and varieties? More art? Even if you can’t write a profile, why not start a little journal of stories where we simple pixels can suddenly run, jump, cry and laugh. Skip, trip, whisper and scream. Become something as alive as you.”

“That… I can’t do that,” you stutter in reply, “I don’t have the time. I have a busy life; I have things to do and places I must go. People I must meet and friendships to reconcile. I don’t have the ability to write or the ability to draw. I have no creativity and no desire to try.”

She gives you a sad smile, “We are pixels. We have no time to use, no time to waste. We cannot go where you go and cannot do what you do. No friendships to break or make and no people to see. We cannot draw nor can we write. We have no creativity but we desire for you to try.”

“Give a voice to we who cannot speak. A future to one with no past. Give us the ability to become something. Or to become something you cannot be. Give us wings to soar the skies or skills to fight off the evils that lurk the corners. Let us be what you cannot. Let us be what you have always dream of being.”

“You claim you can’t bring us to life as well as others have. But the truth of the matter is that we don’t care how great you are in comparison to others. We do not care if you believe that you cannot draw or cannot write. Because you can draw and you can write. All we ask of you is to try.”

“Everyone started somewhere. In fact, those people you admire for their art or their writing? To get there, they practiced. It wasn’t a magical one step process.”

“So if they can, so can you. And so, I ask you again,” she pauses, that twinkle returning to her eyes, “Will you do me a favour?”

“It’s not me you need to answer,” she says with a smile, “but yourself.”

With that she donned her black top hat once more. And again became that figure clad in black; asking everyone that very same question.

“Will you do me a favour?”