10:45 to Crimson

“Crinkle.” The blue doritos bag wrinkled, leaving the shelf. Cling, a cold raspberry Arizona knocked against the cooler. Poof! A red basket carried the items. Pit! The basket rose to the 711 logoed countertop. “Beep,” the gray scanner echoed. “Hello Odell, that’s all?” the fatigued, sweaty, black and green uniformed clerk asked in an indian accent, standing before a transparent cigarette cabinet. Odell revealed his brown leather wallet, easing eleven crisp dollars from the compartment. “Here ya go,” he expressed, handing the money. “Ching, ching!” The clerk counted sixty-seven cents, fighting sweat bullets. “It's hot,” he uttered.

“Welcome!” The female entrance machine blared. A red-dressed figure walked in the store.

Odell replied to Mr. Gowala, “I know. I sweated on the walk here.” “Woosh!” The cash register closed.

Mr. Gowala emerged from behind the counter.

He looked to the ground. “Ah, what is this!”

Gowala tensed his face, gripping a broom and violently sweeping red leaves. He brushed them into the trash, one stroking his hand.

Odell uttered, heading for the door. “See y,a Mr. Gowala!”

“See ya, friend!” Mr. Gowala replied, fumbling with the trash.

Odell held his goods, opening the warm-postered door. He lingered at the door, slipping his cell from his right cargo pocket. The device clicked on, time 10:45 PM.

“Pop,” Odell flipped the Arizona tab open, ferociously gulping against the harsh heat.

“Wooo!” he muttered, juice droplets streaming his chin.

A breeze blew against Odell's arm. He turned right. “Just what I needed!” he uttered, smiling at a dinged white ice box. “Hum,” the machine vibrated. Odell gravitated to the space, leaning against a coarse, condensated brick wall.

“Gulp, gulp, gulp, ahh!” Odell flooded his throat with the Arizona, sweat coating the aluminum. A blue screen illuminated his face, playing YouTube. The parking lot was empty. Loud noises and nightly activity, none. Odell was on an island, well, almost. Soon, the store's entry flung open, revealing the red-dressed patron. He briskly walked to the sidewalk, stopping briefly.

“Roar, roar, roar,” a sound relative to tires stuck in the mud faintly sounded.

The figure tapped its pockets. The sound instantly lowered, almost inaudible.

The figure looked at Odell. Plastic ruffled, he dug in a tan bag for his Twix. “Rip, crunch,” he consumed the snack down the road. Two minutes passed. The Clerk finished his duties and exited the dark store.

“Clang, bang, pow!” the clerk’s coat, keys, and bagged groceries struck the pavement.

Mr. Gawala grunted, “Fuck!”

Odell eyed the struggling clerk, rushing to assist.

“I gotcha!” Odell exclaimed, lifting the items and placing them in the clerk's hands.

Odell squinted his eyes, intently looking at the clerk's hands. A peculiar bluish color formed at the fingertips, accompanied by a slight tremble.

Odell asked, “You seem a little off, Mr. Gawala. Are you okay to drive home?”

“I'm fine! I just had a long day working in the AC.” Mr. Gawala uttered.

“Oh,” Odell stated unconfidently, fixating on the clerk's questionable hands.

“See ya, friend,” the elated clerk stated, carrying his belongings.

Odell replied, “Okay, get some rest!”

The clerk entered his teal, black leather Toyota Prius. The engine purred. The Clerk reversed and whipped the wheel, darting down the quiet street. The vehicle stopped, waiting for a light. The light turned green. The Clerk buggied down Granmay before swaying back and forth.

“Huh,” Odell thought.

The car swiftly transitioned lanes, coming to an abrupt stop next to a vacant sidewalk.

Odell's face tightened. “Maybe he stopped to look for something,” he thought.

Odell stood for two minutes, looking at the Prius. Nothing else occurred.

“Go home,” he told himself, slowly rising from the wall, dominating the sidewalk, powering his mobile.

Midnight was here. Odell inched closer to Hanley Ave.. with a steady pace. Three blocks separated him from home when heavy footsteps appeared. “Someone else walking tonight?” I'm not alone. Odell thought. Poof, poof, Odell's black Nike sweats rubbed, and his speed increased. “Roar, pit, pit, pit!” Odell tripped over a crack, mind racing, looking behind. A slim figure cloaked in red stood tall. A plant-like smell permeated the air mixed with metallic.

Odell thought, That's the gas station figure.

“What do you want?” Odell yelled, rising from the ground. The ominous figure remained stagnant.

“Hello!” Odell roughened his voice. The figure pulled out his cell phone, facing it towards Odell.

Odell looked, covering his mouth. “Oh my god!”

Mr. Gowala was in the picture, bloodsucked, coated with sparkly residue, and with blue limbs.

Odell’s lip quivered, with a single tear.

The figure pocketed his phone and rummaged through his wrinkled pockets. Dry, crimson leaves crackled, landing on the cement.

Odell's eyes widened. “Oh no!” he stated. Odell looked to his left, sprinting aimlessly. He crashed through a dense prickly berry bush, sustaining cuts and scrapes as he burst through a rotten wooden door.

“Ah, Ah, Ah,” he emitted three faint breaths. “Clank!” he plopped before a glass display case, heartbeat lowering.

Sniff, sniff,” Odell’s nose perfunctorily tingled at the scent of gas. The interior of this abandoned building was smoked to ash; burned microscopes and biology books littered the ground. A few minutes had passed. Odell remained near the glass display case, unaware that his peace was fleeting. A red blur grazed his peripheral, sprinting past the building. Odell kicked dust across dry rotted planks, stumbling across a dim molded rotunda after a five-minute run. Grotesque vines spiraled Doric pillars, chaining a white door to its hinges. “Come on, jiggle come on, jiggle” he muttered, trying to twist the gold door knob. A few seconds later, Odell stepped from the door. He spied a broken picture frame on an honor wall, snatching a long shard of glass with grit. “Sling!” The glass sliced the vines, cracking them to frayed scraps. The door flew open.

“Bam!” he slammed the door, observing a burnt-smelling small interior. “There's no lock! I need to block the door,” Odell thought, flustered, spotting a yellow light against a sot-covered steel cabinet. He gasped, “This will work!” shoving it against the door. A cluster of mildewed books crashed to the ground, a bright red book dominated the bunch. Odell grasped its dry, limp shell, titled “THE CRIMSON” by Dr. Myerson.” “What is this?” Odell thought. Page 1 appeared, revealing an unsightly plant adorned with edges.

Odell read silently. “Hello, I am Dr. Myerson, an illustrious scientist of Ellisville. You are probably reading this book in my destroyed lab. My team and I have occupied this laboratory, healing and discovering natural cures for illnesses, but unfortunately, our strides here were thwarted. Our departure started after word surfaced about a potential fire attack against the lab. The attacker is believed to be a prominent figure from the Crimson Island who wanted to destroy my work, however, we have relocated and are still conducting research. The menace is a dangerous handler of the dreaded Crimson. The Crimson, what is it, you question? The Crimson is a lone, vicious plant native to moist grounds in the Crimson Islands. It is so powerful that it is the only plant on Crimson Island. The plant began as a docile plant before a wounded traveler dripped blood on its body. When the plant absorbed the blood, the handler observed its incredible invincibility. He lured others to the island to feed the plant blood. Furthermore, he arranged the plant to trickle blood into a can for consumption, yielding him invincibility. “Oh my god! Odell uttered. He continued.

As of this date, the donor's blood is weak due to a widespread illness. The Crimson craves tasty hemoglobin, sending it into extreme ferocity against unsuspecting humans. The handler is thought to be solving this by traveling with the Crimson to cities, watching it inflict blood sucking acts with unfathomable callousness. Odell's eyes widened, with a lump in his throat, reading with a shake. “The crimson whips its sharp exterior, slicing human skin, sucking blood through its roots, through the vascular system. Humans are left with gradual stiffness or paralysis, breaking their bodies to fragility. Please wear full clothing at all times. “Gasp,” Odell uttered. Odell finished the page, “STAY AWAY FROM THE CRIMSON!”

Odell shook. A minute passed before he closed the book, sliding it into his pants pocket. “The figure in the book is before me, and he has the crimson!” He panicked to himself. The figure's slyness prompted Odell to stay alert, contemplating an escape. A wooden board moaned, accompanied by a metallic, plant-like smell, spooking Odell into grasping a rotten plank. “Come the fuck out, you son of a bitch!” he yelled. Wooden planks dashed across the room, revealing a red figure, soiled in mud and debris, holding the crimson.

“Hello there, Odell!” the figure eerily uttered.

Odell questioned, gripping the board tighter. “How do you know me?”

“Never mind that, Odell. Focus on this!”

The figure carefully revealed the jagged, dry crimson, surging flashbacks of the book through Odell's mind.

“Gasp,” Odell uttered, chills rippling his body.

The figure firmly spoke with a plain face. “I've been weak my whole life. I was pushed around in school, left to play in the dusty corner! He yelled. I felt alone and angry, but now I am invincible, thanks to the Crimson. Feebleness is behind me.

He continued, “The Crimson will not die.” He yelled.

Odell trembled.

The figure continued, “The depletion of blood donors will not stop me. I will hunt to feed my precious baby. He paused, pointing at Odell.

“It's your turn!” Muhaaaa!”

“Gasp,” Odell uttered, backing away.

Dr. Myerson's overview of the horrible Crimson was coming to fruition. A harrowing experience was near.

The figure snapped his long fingers.“Snap!”

The plant wriggled its roots, wisping in the air, lunging toward Odell's trembling arms. “Ahh!” Odell emitted a gut-wrenching scream, mouth gaped to extremity. The plant, red and mighty, revealed six sharp thorns. They burrowed Odells plump green veins, sucking copious amounts of blood.

“Very good, Crimson,” the figure applauded, watching the chaos.

Desperately, Odell averted his botched vision to a plank, clutching its end, triggering a painful sensation through his arm. “Ahhhh!” He screamed. The plank cut across the air, loose nail slicing the crimson, ending its constriction, splashing blood droplets everywhere.

“Gasp!” Odell yelled.

“No!” the figure yelled, stomping planks in half with his cement feet.

Tears streamed down Odell’s face. He lunged. A window shattered. “Ahhhh!” Then, the bone-crushing impact of the ground. The disgruntled figure fell behind, caring for his hurt baby. Nearly motionless, Odell staggered two miles in a vacant world. Who could help? He thought repeatedly. Odell yanked his phone from his pocket, dead cell reception at 1:50 AM. A repugnant mixture of sweat and blood droplets oozed from Odell's exhausted body, prompting him to forge ahead. Suddenly, a sloshing sound emerged. Odell jumped, fearing it was the Crimson and its handler, stumbling to a cluster of bushes. He faintly parted the twigs to see water gently crashing a brown wooden rowboat, sighing in relief before a red robin soared, meeting at a blue, speak-like landform in the distance. “The Vitalize Islands!” Odell murmured, filled with hope. He pulled out the book, trembling it beside the landform. “It is!” he celebrated. Odell cleared the bushes, weakly charging the rowboat. A thud hit the boat floor. A new journey was to commence. Surprisingly, Odell made significant progress. He oared the boat every two minutes, harnessing enough stamina to navigate steadily. Bored and exhausted with the slow journey, Odell slipped the book from his pocket, turning to page 2, titled My Discovery. He positioned the book under the moonlight, locking his eyes in a silent read. “A patient arrived at the hospital nearing paralyzation with blue limbs and sparkling blood. Concerned and fearful, I led a medical expedition to the Crimson Islands, scouring the land with suits. The head explorer stumbled upon a sparkly Crimson, collecting a sample in a jar. We returned to our lab, unleashing the Crimson against a human-like dummy. The plant maliciously sucked the props blood, leaving the flesh blue and withered, with a red sparkle around the cuts. The mystery was solved, but our work remained. The patient, slowly slipping into paralysis, prompted an effective cure. We flew a team to Vitalize Islands, the land of healing, to procure the healing plant under Dr. Kentagwa's direction. I administered the plant's green juice through the patient's IV, slowly revitalizing his body. He recuperated quickly. Odell closed the book, heart beating at the immersive passage, thinking of all the possibilities. What if the medicine is gone? What if I don't make it? He thought to himself. Odell's mind, heavy and racing, ceased as the bottom of the boat scratched the shore. Vitalize Island was before him. Odell weakly rolled over the boat's rim, plopping before a line of grey-based trees. He reached his bluish hand, gripping them like a cane to traverse the land. Solace flooded the atmosphere. The air was crisp, no pollution, providing clean oxygen to the ecosystem. Odell warmed up scouting further. A flowy stream carried clear blue water in valleys, delivering water to Cape Sundews, Orchids, and lilacs. Exotic creatures chirped the lands, communicating with their breeds. Happiness was near. A distinct smell of fresh sweetness permeated from vibrant greenery, gracing Odell’s nostrils. Odell couldn't help but smile. Twenty minutes had passed, ending the presence of the trees. Odell, now caneless, stopped in gratitude, no fret in sight. He resorted to leaning against sprawling landforms for support, inching toward a tranquil area flourishing with delicate crisscrossed greenery. Odell's battered face livened. He pulled the book from his pocket, matching the healing plant illustration to the green plants before him. “That's it!” he thought. He sprung from the wall, falling on the green plants, in a tearful praise, “Finally!” Odell yanked the plants from their roots, salivating at their juicy healing capabilities.

“Drip, drip, drip!” The plants mushed to Odell's forceful squeeze, leaking a green, airy, savory liquid on his white tongue.

Odell’s recovery was underway; his arm, bloodied and blue, slowly rippled to a caramel brown. Odell’s eyes moistened as the plant juice neared its last few drops. Odell rose to his feet, stable and less shaky. He staggered to another plant, slurping its pores to dryness. Footsteps appeared. Odell turned around. “Bam!” A harsh thump echoed across the back. He tumbled to the ground. “Ahhh!” Odell screamed, looking at what accompanied him. It was none other than the villainous red-dressed figure and his precious Crimson, itching for blood.

“We’re back, Muahahaha!” The ominous figure yelled.

He paused, puffing his cheeks with a diabolical grin.

“Get 'em!” He directed the Crimson.

The Crimson leaned back, spewing raspy audibles, launching toward Odell. Quick-minded and slightly healed, Odell rolled from the Crimson into the plants. The Crimson backed away, deciphering his next move. The plants crushed under Odell's body, squirting copious liquid. Odell gapped his mouth and swallowed each droplet whole.

“Strike, Crimson, strike, he must not heal!” The figure yelled, guiding him past the clustered green plants.

Odell's blood pumped rapidly. He rose from the ground, bolting for the shore. He anchored his legs, pouncing in the boat, brushing the oar back and forth in the water. “Huff, huff, huff!” Odell gasped endlessly, peering over his shoulder frequently. The Crimson and the figure were behind, jumping into a boat, shooting across the water. “Shit!’ Odell yelled. The Crimson and the figure harassed Odell, splashing water globs everywhere. The Crimson flexed himself to strike. “Roar,” the beast yelled. The red monstrocity hooked the boat's hull, whirling it violently several times. The rowboat slowed, prompting Crimson to slither its mutant body around Odell. The red figure accompanied the Crimson, smiling ear to ear at the mayhem.

“Mahha! Poor, poor Odell! You will succumb to the Crimsons' dominion!” The figure yelled, balling his fists in the air.

Odell's face reddened in shock, veins swelling to thick ropes, smelling plant-like air.

“No, yaaa, yaaa won, whe, this!” He stuttered breathlessly.

Odel raised his spiky, pointed oar, slicing the figure's red attire to bare skin. “You bitch!” The enraged figure screamed. The boat rocked over turbulent waters, seeping under the Crimson, disrupting his blood feast. The Crimson was furiously thirsty. He bobbed his head around, fixating on his unclothed handler.

Odell met the handler's golf-sized eyes. Tears rippled his face, his body trembling at his beloved turning on him for blood. “Crimson, I am your handler, please, I beg you, dont suck me!” the figure pleaded, hands fused. The Crimson’s focus, unwavering, burst into an ear-piercing tantrum. “Yahhh!” He latched onto the figure's hairy chest. “Gulp, gulp!” He vacuumed pools of blood from the handler, releasing him into oblivion.

Ahhhh! No, Ahhhh!” The tides wrapped the handler, drowning him and the Crimson in the dark water.

Odell’s insides collapsed. He gasped in a feverish heat, heart thudding his chest. “Oh my god, oh my god!” He panicked. The rowboat rocked, and Odell twisted his head. “Doosh!” He plunged into a frigid waterfall.

“Woosh!” Woosh! Water aimlessly gushed, blanketing and thrusting Odell and his boat into sheer coldness. Odell was unmatched. The water flooded his insides. “Ahhh, hu, hu, he gasped, unable to breathe. Clothing scraps, almost invisible shredded in the current, revealed Odell’s battered limbs. He was a bouncy ball in a water-filled horror. Halfway alive, Odell plummeted toward a rocky pit. Odell accepted his fate. The boat followed behind. “Bam!” The boat snapped into deadly wooden bats, knocking Odell unconscious. It seemed an eternity had passed until Odell woke up. He was face down on a sandy dune, water meeting his waistline. “Cough, cough!” he spewed bloody water; walking was futile. Odell Baby crawled up the coarse sheet into oblivion. He constantly peered over his shoulder, right and left, “Is the Crimson and the red figure truly gone? Odell questioned. Little did Odell know that everything would transcend.