Becoming

They wake and find themselves alone in a world where dreams are tangible. Some find the world dark, some find it home, but all look into the dark uncertainty of it and find themselves lost. For them, Becoming is a beginning, and it is from this beginning that they each find themselves wandering a dark world looking for some trace of their former humanity, if it was ever there to begin with. The hero, Mahavir, finds himself conflicted between losing his own life for the human beings that he despises or simply leaving them behind. As he comes to know Joseph and his father and Lila and her brother, he struggles to move away from the fate that dreams have allotted to him and realizes that even the power of those dreams cannot take away his choice. Regardless of the strength of the nightmares that plague the world around him, he knows that it's only his decision that will determine the fate of men.

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BecomingBy Marc JohnsonAuthorHouseCopyright © 2010 Marc JohnsonAll right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4490-1292-2 Chapter One... AND THEN THE BEGINNING ... ... and he dreamed ... He choked on it. His voice was held tight by the dearth. He felt like he was still sleeping in a foreign body unwilling to move. He was just lying there, facing up. Is this up. There's nothing here at all. Everything moved around him, even without him. He couldn't see it, but he knew it did. It always did. When he pushed himself up, light touched him brief and sudden, a flash out of the dark, broken and fragmented, but he quickly lost it when he stumbled and fell back down. He wanted to slip back into the dark, feel its cold grip and let it pull him in. He longed for it. Something else shared in his longing and erupted in a deafening roar, denying him a voice that calls for peace and slumber. Even though fear gripped him hard, trying to hold him tight to ground, he was still able to leap up and throw himself forward to find the source of the monstrous resonance. There, he found light, the sun, reflecting from his green eyes and bathing his face in warmth with its gentle touch. No. This isn't the sun. This is fire, death and fire. He fell back from the sight of columns of fire engulfing the towers of his world, fallen and broken. Even the ground beneath them was not left unscarred by the touch, split into two, left gaping and divided. Ground shook as black rock melted, exploded, and sprayed, and large chasms were left hollow and dark in the wake of the inferno. He fell down with the pain of the ... ... earth.... He felt it shake, about to give beneath him. He tried to push against it. As he tried to force himself up, his arms shook, and again he quickly fell with no sympathy from the hard ... ... ground ... He pushed harder against it. Struggling against his weak limbs, he finally brought himself up until his eyes found the inferno. He watched as the pillars of fire engulfed, overcame, and swallowed everything, leaving him nothing. His body went numb, and, as his limbs fell limp, there was no sound, no taste or stench, just calm and fire. The flames danced in a ballet of billowing movement, flowing around each other, complementing in both meter and rhythm. ... breathe ... As the light shattered and worlds imploded, his body was held tight by flame. Its sensual touch was the only thing he felt as the worlds went dark. ... he dreamed of the dark ... He opened his eyes. His tendons were pulled tight between aching bone and withered muscle. He found the glaring mirror of death mirrored in his own green eyes. Fear pushed against his stiffened body, throwing him from the sight of it and bringing him to ground. His lungs felt foreign, and he couldn't move them. His gaze returned to the glassy glare of death lying in front of him. A dead thing was lying where he used to be, staring at him without the shimmer of life. What was man now lay still and stayed, a mere shell of former beauty, lost and empty. Skin clung to the bone, the muscle no more than thin strands. He took the shell's hand for a glimmer of former identity. He tried to hold it tight, but the hand fell brittle, breaking into dust. The dust fell through his fingers as the final form of flesh swirled in the winds and settled in his nostrils. He stilled, and he stayed, unmoving in any way. Don't stay alone. Find others, a companion or a friend, to save me, protect me, and keep me strong. Once the thought entered him, a force found him and pushed him down on the remains. The remaining shell burst into a cloud of dust and ash. As he pulled himself up from the pile his hands clenched around the man that poured between his fingers. He couldn't remember a name. The man was just a nameless pile of ash in forgetful winds. It pushed him down again, and he didn't have the power to hold it back. Surrounded by the swirling dust of the dead, he was raised from his submission, and with outstretched arms, he was held suspended. The remains encircled him, flowing with the stream of the winds. He felt his body deteriorate. The burning atrophy turned his muscle to ash, blood to vapor, and bone to stone. He just needed to sleep, to return to the world of dreams. He would be safe there, but dreams were not unbounded. With time, they too fade. If he could just ... ... breathe ... It was then that the dark took hold and held him so cold. ... that empty ... She was lost. The taste of blood, like rust, she felt the weight of it on her tongue. She had no memory, nothing at all. Her eyes of gold were blinded by the deviant glare of fluttering lights through the trees that surrounded and overpowered her. She was cold. She was hungry. She was alone. Fear held her there, fear of the loss of her unborn child, still and warm in her belly. She was so close to the child's birth. His ruin was with hers. She wanted to save him, to hold him tight to her body and protect him. She would hold his head to hers as she knelt on the soft earth. Her skin touching his, feeling each other's warmth, keeping it between them. She would root herself there as the oldest of trees and hold her child. The child slept so still in her belly. She couldn't do anything for him while he was still inside her. If she starved, he would too. If she died, he would die. Hunger, weakness, and pain all took hold of her. Their weight became too much for her and pushed her down to dirt. Her spine tingled and numbed as she collapsed, her legs falling out from underneath her. She knew this feeling. This was fear, not the same fear she held for her child, but another. It was a fear of the dark. She knew the empty was coming for her. She didn't know where it was, but she knew it was coming. From what depths, she didn't know. It was the purest kind, shadow that swallowed shadow and all good things. With the strength of a thousand and one worlds and the touch of a newborn child, the empty pulled all into oblivion. Not merely a death, but a nonexistence that transcends all time and legend. Only song escaped it. From this dark she heard the words and the song of a young girl, sweet and flowing, pushing through, entering her and warming her. They came comforting, creating a longing to join the dark. ... through time ... over waters so dark ... and through distance ... I will see you soon ... The words comforted her. She let herself be swallowed by shadow and shadow plagued her, chilling her body, flowing around the warmth of her belly. The cold of the empty pushed through her veins. Here it comes. Wait. The warmth of her child was still there. The fear for her child came back to her in sharp pangs. She fell into herself, clutching her belly. She had her fate. That was hers, but she couldn't let her decision take her child. ... breathe ... lovely child ... breathe ... From beyond the dark, it pushed and erupted through shadow, pouring and moving as light and moving to a safe distance. The child left its mother behind, leaving her to the empty. ... shadow on shallow ... She felt the push and pull of the currents against her. Weightless, her body shifted with the pull from the undertow. Serene, she flowed with its movement, twisting and turning. The currents caressed her young flesh, its sensual touch cradling every part. Not just her flesh, it went deeper. Inside of her, where nature could never penetrate, she felt a pulse in perfect harmony with the one that moved in her chest. As it pushed against her, her pulse pulled, and as her pulse pushed back, those currents lifted. She longed for nothing. She felt nothing. She knew nothing of ... ... death ... Floating, senseless with nothing of suffering, some things still lingered, questions of things past, she struggled to find ... ... life ... Was there life before this. Doesn't really matter anyway. She had forgotten. There was something that she almost remembered, but she lost it again. She struggled for any thought, hazed and darkened, numbed and neglected. As quick as something came to her, it left. The only thing she could remember was that she yearned for whatever memory it was. She knew that she needed pain. She needed scars and the memory it would bring. The currents had carried her too far, and now she needed to try and find the lost pain that they had kept from her. Something else was kept from her, another sensation that had been long forgotten. Floating with those currents, she almost lost her thoughts again. Pleasure, she needed pain and pleasure. The currents had kept her from them both, suspended in their sway, pulsing with the current. They never left her. She moved with them. As the currents moved, she ran her hand slowly across her body, feeling her firm flesh. As her palm grazed the peaks of her breasts, her blood warmed, and her muscles tensed slightly. The numb comfort of the pulsing currents held in contrast with the warmth of new blood moving through her flesh. Her fingers rose to her lips, caressing from one corner to the other. Her lips felt the slight heat from the tips. They gently parted, leaving way for one of her fingers to drop into the warmth of her mouth. Touching her tongue, she rolled it from side to side. The warmth swelled, spreading into her arms. She knew the currents felt it too and tried to keep their hold on her, trying to keep her numb. Pushing again against her body, the currents rolled her over. She didn't fight against them. She let them move her. Once again, the thoughts of her sensual touch were leaving her, and she struggled to bring them back. She kissed her fingertips, and, slowly, pulled them from her mouth and moved them down to her breasts. The heat from her fingertips had lost its subtlety and almost burned when touched her breasts. She moved the heat around her soft peaks, letting the warmth flow into her. She moved her hand farther down past her belly where she felt her greatest warmth. Her other hand moved to her breasts, feeling more heat than had come with the former touch. The heat from her breasts moved down and met the heat that rose from between her thighs. Once they met, they flowed around each other and danced in her belly, flowing upward and outward, spreading through her entire body. She still moved with the current as she rolled over, head over foot and shoulder over shoulder, floating in the dark current and pulsing with it. The hand between her thighs moved with the rhythm of the current, rubbing with its flowing movements. She caressed herself, breasts and belly, with one hand while she pushed the other harder and deeper inside. She pushed so hard that a sharp pain shook her from inside. She fell into herself as the pain shook her and took hold. More heat came with it. Her fingers warmed in her soft hot flesh that was swelling with blood. She threw her head back as the waves of heat moved up her body. She clutched tightly to her breast with one hand while the other moved deeper, feeling the pulse pushing strongly from inside. Still keeping with what was around her, she moved her hand in and out in a rhythm between the pulses of the currents. Somewhere between force and pulse, the heat came on strong again. Her fingers ground hard against the soft flesh inside of her, tearing it. Blood flowed from her and surrounded her with the warmth of life. It floated with her, bouncing from her skin and trying to return to the common body it once knew. As she moved, heat and pain flowed into each other in complement. She bit her lip until it bled, joining the rest of the blood in a dance of memory, sharing what was known and what was left behind. She pulled her legs together, still keeping the rhythm with her hand. In and out, soft flesh pulsated harder around her fingers. She pushed farther and harder, deeper and faster. She knew it was coming. It was almost there. The heat reached its threshold and held her every. Push, feel the heat. Touch the warmth. Allow yourself to be engulfed by it, the pain, the catalyst, the heat, the means. It grew as her body turned and toppled out of control. The build was too much, and she couldn't stop it. Her hand clenched tightly around her breast as her fingers inside went rigid. Her legs pressed tightly against each other as her body erupted in a war of heat and power. She threw her head back and opened her green eyes. The ... ... memory ... ... returned to her in a sudden burst of thought, a pulse strong enough to allow the rivers of thought to flow through. With the pulse, the fear for her brother came to her. She saw him. She saw him falling away from her, falling into the darkest pits of the earth, to be left there until the earth turn to stone. She looked on his face as he fell away from her into the depths, his eyes glowing green. His mouth moved as if to speak, but she couldn't hear anything, nothing at all. Her hand reached out but touched nothing, finding nothing kind. His body was disappearing into dark, and being consumed by it. His eyes were crying, crying for her. Those eyes that were a reflection of hers battled the same forces that sought to swallow all. He fell too fast, too far She pushed to him To save him To save her He pushed to her She fell too fast, too far Wretched and scarred, he saw the sway of the water carry her deeper and deeper into oblivion. He could not stop her from falling away from him, her body going dark and deep as he reached for her, her flowing hair swimming around her lovely pale face, moving in long waves, brushing her gentle cheek. Her mouth moved as if to speak, but he couldn't hear anything, nothing at all. Her pale skin faded too and all that was left were her glowing green eyes, and they too were fading. Her eyes faded gently into the dark depths, glowing darker and darker still with every passing moment. No. Not her. Leave her alone. He wanted it to be him instead. He would let his fate be the one of the fall and let hers be left to her. He would take it, one to take for the other. His end would be her deliverance. ... breathe ... The cold sway of the endless dark held him hard, holding him close to stone. ... with nothing beneath ... He felt the empty reach for him. He couldn't let it take him. He knew that he was the only one with the strength to return man to his former condition, whatever that may be. As the season changed with the lifting of the gray, it was the time when an awakening would begin, and he must hold for what was in front of him. He was told it was his quest. From his youth, he was taught of the becoming, smoldering the lives of men with the power of the elements. Fear would take hold, casting shadows, bringing with it the plague of dark that brings ends to men. He knew memory would keep him from being taken into the empty. He thought back to the memories of his father and a promise. I will come back to you. He never did. Only later did he find the horrifying truth about the demon that his father had become. He knew his father wicked, a taste for the flesh of young things. He sought to quicken his own rotting body with the sex of the young, and when the youth was taken, the tainted body would be cleansed of any mark that was left by him. The body needed to be buried deep where the mark could fade and find some other home beneath mounds of dirt. When he was old enough to know that the promise would never be kept, he sought the man he once knew as father. He never knew why. He just knew he needed to. He closed his eyes. The day the wretch is found comes as the heat from the morning dawn slowly warms the things left cold by the long night. A naked body lays on its side with beads of sweat and blood running down its bloated form. This is the monster he remembered. The skin is dark, almost black, the body of a monstrous beast. Under this mass, a young child lay naked, with his blue eyes emptily staring off into the void as if torn from the body. Breath from the still child flows like mist into the frigid air, stilling and falling to ground. Nothing between them but blood and semen Finding what had settled between them, he becomes rage. He throws the monster from its mount and stands above it in contempt of its severity. The creature stares at him with no recognition, the eyes move too quickly to hold to anything for long. It stares down at its own bloated form. (Continues...) Excerpted from Becomingby Marc Johnson Copyright © 2010 by Marc Johnson. Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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