Enter the Something New and Original

Pellets of hail pounded the glass like angry fists of tiny, forgotten gods. Clouds turned the night so dark it took on a smell; Old Spice, Rohypnol, and the sweat of Clive Barker’s fever dreams. The oppressive atmosphere slipped inside like an unwanted visitor into a celebrity’s home, Cleetus powered on his console.
Lightning ripped vibrant wounds in the sky. Cleetus thought of his mother admonishing him to turn off the power when storms grew electric. He almost did. Then the start screen of Wizards and Warriors brightened his home and life. He clutched the controller. Soon blood wizard would save the princess. Mom’s ghostly memory could suck it.
Cleetus pressed start. The screen faded to the dim world of Magicstan. Mother’s ghost didn’t take kindly to being ignored. At the moment of ecstasy between worlds the obnoxious woman tossed another lightning bolt from heaven (like she was there), striking the house.
Cleetus shat himself. The electricity flowing over the controller and into his hands was to blame. The sudden jolt also caused him to pass out.
Cleetus awoke in a world of lines, Disneyfied versions of powder electric blue and toxic neon green. Futuristic motorcycles zoomed past. Cleetus held some sort of light based sword. A hard-shelled backpack covered his spine. In his other hand was a note.
-Find me and I’ll send you home.
“Really?”
“What?” The air responded, in the voice of a nineteen-eighties Mac.
“This is your test?”
“Why not?”
“One, it’s weak sauce. Two, don’t you think it’s a bit derivative of Tron?”
Cleetus awoke standing in a field, a long-sword firmly gripped in one hand. A pack covered his back. In the other hand a note.
-Beat me and I’ll send you home.
“Come on! Did you play too much D&D or are you just another Game of Thrones hipster?”
Cleetus came to with a straightrazor, a Hello Kitty fanny pack, and a note he didn’t read. Flesh wounds, patent leather and spikes surrounded him.
“Because I thought of Clive Barker when I looked out my window, right?”
Cleetus sat bolt upright with a chair supporting his back. He held a Jolt Cola in one hand and nothing in the other. An ancient computer sat on the desk in front of him. Words began to type themselves, echoed by that electronic voice.
-Would you like to play a…
“Oh hell no! I thought the shit up ‘til now was derivative. This is outright plagiarism if you ask me!”
Cleetus opened his eyes on a brave new world. His sword hand stood empty. Nothing adorned his back. Looking from horizon to horizon he saw only the muted brown of cheap cardboard. He was inside his game, literally in the box. The space, while claustrophobic, seemed insurmountable. The note in his off hand was the final touch.
-I tried to be nice. Good luck getting out of this one, dick!
“Ummmm… I was just kidding?”
Cleetus stepped into the lack of response.
“Should’ve listened to mom.”

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