Excerpt of one of my messing-arounds: Fantiality Infinity

And here’s just an excerpt from one of my play stories that I dink around with when no one is looking. It’s a sequel to a Legend of Zelda fanfiction I wrote a while ago called Fantiality. For those who know Zelda lingo, it should be pretty easy for you to figure out that Shadow is Dark Link, and the two of them just got back from watching Link getting married with the girl Dark Link was in love with (oh the drama, makes me nauseous).

The premise of both this story and of the sequel is based on the theory that stories create worlds within worlds. For example, when someone in our world writes a story, they create another world, and then when someone in that world writes a story, they create another world, and so on and so forth. Kind of like when you face two mirrors to each other.

But what should happen if someone from our world enters the world of a story written in this world? They will have powers to create stories in this other realm created by the previous, if that makes sense, and that is what happens with the main character, Kara, who in turn ends up enraging the creator of Legend of Zelda, Miyamoto, by her meddling in his stories with her story telling abilities.

Enjoy. And since I have no pride, if you are interested in reading the rest of this story or the prequel, check me out on fanfiction.net under the name LoweFantasy. Be aware this is a rough draft, as are all the other stories on fanfiction, because they’re just my screwing around stories. It’s my playroom. My toy room. Etc.

Shadow

Ride back to the farm was awkward, to say the least. I had had to finish up the deliveries with a zombie ginger besides me mumbling directions of where to go. I’m sure I frightened away at least a third of Lon Lon’s customers trying to grin in a friendly manner at them. Most had just taken their milk and ran, but a few had the decency to see that I was trying.

The awkward part about heading back home was that she was still zombified. It was getting on my last nerve.

“I guess I can understand why you liked that asshole.” I said in an attempts to resurrect her. I so wasn’t going to do her share of the chores tomorrow.

Nothing. She just stared forward. She hadn’t even eaten the sandwiches she had packed for the both of us. Well, I hadn’t felt much like eating either, but I did anyways in a sort of defiance against my own emotions. No way and in hell was I going to get all sob story over some chick.

Excusing the fact she was the only one of her kind in all of Hyrule, maybe in all of existence. How many girls did you know that had an offer of godhood? And not only that, but denied it?

Thinking about it brought back memories of the last time of Miyamoto, which didn’t improve my mood. He had told me to persuade her to take his side, that he would give me a place in the past on some island called Skyloft that he would commission her to create as the goddess Hylia. Course I ignored him, though he probably knew that. Or did he know that I knew that and thought I would try to predict what he was trying to make me do and do exactly what he told me to do, so he told me to do?

Hell no was I going down that road. That last thought didn’t even make sense.

When we arrived back at the ranch I helped Malon brush down the buff horse that had taken the cart and turned it in for the night with the rest of the horses, or my bunkmates, as I should call them. Strange thing was, I didn’t mind the smell of horse as much as I thought I would. And since Malon was crazy about them, she had extremely high standards for the cleanliness of the stable. Seeing as my bed was right above said stable, where horses would pee and poop all night, I was more than happy to help.

“So, what’s for dinner?” Not that I felt hungry, but I knew I should eat.

She gave me a look like a kid asked to find a hundred rupees they weren’t suppose to lose.

“Din, I forgot to buy the ingredients! Ugh!”

When she started to tear at her long ginger braid, I waved my hands like an idiot to get her to stop.

“Woa, calm down, it’s cool. I’m not that hungry anyways.”

“But Dad–”

“Is a grown man who should be able to fend for himself.”

She shook her head in dismay. “Its not that I’m worried about him not eating, its that I’m worried about what he’ll do to the kitchen.”

“Come on, it can’t be that bad. And you can always boss me around like you usually do into helping you clean up.”

Somehow the urge to put me back into my ignorant place was enough to break her out of her zombie state to glare at me.

“If that’s the case, how about I just save myself the effort and make you cook?” But then she stopped and started looking at me as though she had never really seen me before. I had a bad feeling of what was coming and instantly tried threatening her with my lack of talent in the cooking department.

“–unless you have a hunk of raw meat, then hand it over, I’ll grill it to perfection, but seeing as the only meat you have on your farm has yet to die–”

“I never noticed before.” she broke in, her voice trembling just slightly. “I mean, there had been something about your face from the beginning, but I could never pinpoint it.”

I took a step back, getting desperate. “I guess I’ll go to killing one of your cows now.”

But not even that distracted her. She followed me, blue eyes wide like coins and starting to shine with tears.

“Your face is just like his. No, exactly like his.”

A familiar acidic, sticky hot hate boiled down my chest and into my gut. I heard my knuckles pop as I clenched my fists, suddenly overwhelmed with a desire to maim something. After a whole week of being free of such urges, I had forgotten just how powerful they could be.

The fiery ginger recoiled back from me, having the brains to actually act afraid, for once. I had given her plenty of my glares before to her slave driving, but she had never brought up Link or my face before.

My fists started to hurt.

“Shadow?”

“Don’t ever, ever, compare me to him or I really will kill all your stupid animals.”

A flash of the old fire came back to her eyes and she straightened up to gain the ground she had lost.

“Screw you! I should fire you for even saying such a thing! And shouldn’t I be the one who’s pissed off at you having Link’s face?”

“It’s not his face, it’s mine!”

“Like hell, you might have black hair, but I know his face anywhere!”

“Oh ho, I bet you do, probably dream about it every night, don’t you?”

She flushed, and it wasn’t becoming to both her freckles nor her orange-red hair. It just gave the impression that her whole head had caught on fire.

“Like you have room to talk! I saw your face when you saw him today—what, were you in love with him or something?”

I snapped. Now, pardon to anyone who thought I had a lovable personality, but I had been created a villain after all, and I thought pretty well of myself to have made it as long as I did without punching her.

I was even more proud of myself when I only stood above her and panted rather than laying it out. Her nose was bleeding, and she seemed just as surprised as I did at my actions. Eyes watering, she felt out her face and held out her blood tipped fingers.

I started, suddenly realizing, with a tinge of horror, of what I had done. Screw punching a girl, I was going to loose my job! “Look, I’m–”

But I couldn’t finish whatever clever thing I was about to say, for her fist contacted with my mouth. In a flurry of red hair and pink skirts (pink is a horrible color for a girl with red hair, by the way), she full-on body tackled me and started punching my face like a savage. If I hadn’t been so shocked I could have probably stopped her, and no, the stars bursting in my vision from her fists in my right eye had nothing to do with it.

“When I’m through with you, bastard,” I heard—somehow, “you’ll have a nice new face to thank me fo–”

I flipped on her, furious. Like hell I was about to be beaten by some stinking farm girl!

We cussed up a storm, slapping and punching and pushing until we were chasing each other across the courtyard to the fields screaming like the angry, heartbroken maniacs we were.

Sometime after dark we burnt out and collapsed against each other somewhere out in the grass, watched by very confused and alarmed horses. I could feel her back heaving against mine as we fought for breath and I could taste blood in my mouth.

“You fucking punched a girl.” she wheezed.

“Like hell I’d love that asshole.”

“What he ever do to you? Besides look like you?”

“Like you care.”

“It’s that girl he was marrying, wasn’t it?”

I jerked my arm to hit her again, but it just sort of flopped like a fish at my side. She gave a breathy laugh, hitting the back of her head into mine in the process, but I was too beat to care.

“Aw, that must suck.”

“Shut up.” I growled.

“You shut up.”

We sat there sweating together until we caught our breath and starting swearing at each other for our various boo-boos.

“What are you, some sort of savage?” I asked. Because, honestly, I hadn’t been beaten this bad since Link. Since when did a farm girl have the same fighting skill as the Hero of Time?

“Look who’s talking.” she said.

I grunted, gingerly feeling out the swelling above my right eye. That’d be a nice shiner in the morning. Hopefully, she looked worse, or just as bad, though that didn’t necessarily make me feel good.

She leaned away from my back, and the loss of warmth made me shiver.

Goddesses, I really had sunk low, hadn’t I? So what if I didn’t skip meals and sob like a moron, beating up a girl wasn’t any better way to avoid being some angsty dweeb.

“I’m sorry.” I muttered.

She didn’t say anything. For a moment, I thought that was my answer. I had just been a royal dickweed, after all.

“I’m sorry too.”

Her voice matched mine for softness. For a moment we just sat there, shivering in the night air, watching the horses, bleeding a bit on the grass, and not really wanting to try and get up.

Then, at some point, I heard her give a sniff through her swollen nose. I turned a bit to see her slumped over her knees, eyes to the starry sky, and tears trickling down her scraped cheek. The tear glistened in the starlight, and for a moment I was caught off guard. Curse the closet poet inside of me who had to find beauty in something so inane.

When she caught my gaze, she quickly looked away and gave a shaky, really pathetic sort of smile to the sky. “He said he’d come back for me, you know. Said we were friends.”

“That’s stupid.” I said.

“Yeah. Real stupid. And get this, I had even thought of him as some sort of princely knight that would come and sweep me off my feet.” She gave a gurgly laugh that was more of a sob than anything else. “Like any guy would want to woo a butch tomboy like me.”

I turned away, feeling a rock in my throat. I swallowed, feeling a bit panicked at its very existence, but seeing the girl I had just brawled with crying there like, well, a girl, just sort of wheedled into me like a thorn—or a disease.

“She had been my only friend.” I mumbled, half-hoping she wouldn’t hear. “But I was stupid too. No girl would ever want to end up with someone as awful and evil as me.”

She sniffed. “Yeah. You’re a real asshole.”

“And you fight like the strongest man I know, oh lady. Just how many times a week do you have to shave off your mustache?”

“Probably about as many times as people who want to talk to you. Honestly, did you have to grimace at every one of my customers? If they cancel on us I’m taking it out of your paycheck.”

I blanched. So maybe she hadn’t been as zombified as I thought.

Tears still pouring down her face, she stood up, pointlessly brushed off her pink skirt, and held a hand out to me. I stared at it, wondering what the hell it was for. I obviously didn’t need some chicks help to stand.

“Since an asshole like you won’t be able to find a job where he can beat up his boss, I think we can dock a week of your pay and call it a truce. Unless little heartbroken Shadow wants to go after a married woman.”

I blinked up at her, at her swollen lips forced into a smile. I couldn’t believe it. I just couldn’t believe this woman. I thought only men could build friendships after beating the crap out of each other.

She really was a butch.

But, I returned her smile, took her hand and stood.

“I’ve got an idea you’ll love if you’re willing to compromise on that week.” I said.

“I doubt it.” She lifted the back of her hand to her mouth with a wince. “My nose hurts like hell.”

“Well then, let’s just consider this a teaser,” I leaned in, smirking despite the pain in my split lip. “My face isn’t the only thing that looks like Link’s.”

At her horrified look I roared with laughter. “Aw damn, that’s not what I meant.”

She scowled, which looked quite vicious with a swollen, bloody nose. “What else could I get from that?”

“I meant we could get revenge on him. It’s an idea I’ve been thinking about for a while, since I love him oh so very much. Do you know how to dye hair? I could go blond then run around the kingdom pretending to be him, except butt naked.”

She only took a second before throwing her head back and hooting with laughter, not much like I did. When she brought her face back to me I felt a brief tingle of pleasure at the equally evil grin on her face.

“That’s so awesome.” she said.

“Shall I?”

“Nah, I want something I could watch, and seeing your naked hide would just scar me. I think this calls for some thought over food, you up for it?”

“Flying.”

And like that, somehow, Malon of Lon Lon Ranch weaseled into my lonely world where only Link and Kara had before existed.

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