Greetings. No one from my old life would believe the things written in this journal, but that’s quite beside the point, seeing as how none of them will ever read it. I don’t even know why I’m writing it, save to remind myself from time to time that I was once someone else, and that my former life was not a dream.

 

My name is Sian Elizabeth Fraser. I was a pharmacy student at the Ohio State University, once upon a time, and once upon a different world. It was near the end of the winter semester – finals were coming up, so my friends and I decided to have a party to prepare.

 

That’s what you do in college.

 

I had just taken the first gulp of my third Solo cup of whatever the hell concoction the Beta guys had cooked up when I felt it. I assumed I was getting sick from the booze, of course, although normally two cups was just getting started. As the thought crossed my mind that maybe Kevin had added some of his “special sauce,” the world got yanked from under my feet. Or from over my head. Or…I don’t know. It was very disorienting. The world was yanked from me, or I from it.

 

Have you ever taken too big a bite of spaghetti so you find yourself with strands dangling from your mouth like some sort of flaccid jellyfish tentacles and you have to suck up the remainder while your entire family gawks? That’s kind of what it feels like to be transported across worlds. Not the sucking part – the spaghetti part. You ARE the spaghetti, in this increasingly poor metaphor.

 

The silence that followed seemed somehow louder than the banging music and the shouting and laughing room full of drunk students. My ears strained against the quiet, trying to manufacture sound from nothing, to fill the void left in the party’s wake.

 

“What the hell?” My voice scraped against the silence like an intrusion, then seemed to shatter it – all at once, sound filled the space. But not the sound of the party. Just the sound of one voice, a voice that still grates on my dreams to this day.

 

“Hahahaha! I have done it! I have summoned a demon from beyond the…wait.”

 

A pause, then, and a figure stepped toward me. There was a brief flash to the side and a torch lit, revealing a weaselly little man sporting dark, stained robes and a giant handlebar mustache. He peered at me with crazed eyes.

 

“You don’t look like a demon.”

 

I blinked as I drew back a little. “Thanks, I guess. Who the hell are you?”

 

He looked taken aback. “I…um…well, I am your master.” He took a deep breath as he pulled himself up to his fullest height (which was maybe an inch taller than my own five-foot-four frame). “Ahem. I HAVE SUMMONEED YOU, FOUL CREATURE, TO DO MY BIDDING BY WREAKING HAVOC ACROSS THIS LAND!”

 

That settled that debate. Fucking Keven and his fucking “special sauce” had definitely made an appearance. I wondered what he had done to make the stuff so potent this time – I had never had a trip like this.

 

The man mistook my musing for deafness. He cleared his throat. “Um…did you hear what I said?” He drew himself up again. “YOU ARE MY MINION! YOU SHALL SLAY MY ENEMIES WITH YOUR…”

 

So loud! I put my hands over my ears and interrupted, “Yes, good lord! I heard you the first time. Can’t you speak in a normal tone?”

 

“Ah!” He sounded pleased but at least his voice had dropped to a more conversational decibel. “You acknowledge me as your Lord. That is good.” A deep breath.

 

“No…” I began but it was too late.

 

“NOW, FOUL DEMON, USE YOUR POWERS TO DESTROY MY ENEMIES!”

 

God dammit. I was going to kick Kevin’s ass when this hallucination finally passed. In the meantime, I decided it wasn’t worth the struggle, so I played along. “Um…yes! It is I, the mighty Sian! I shall consume the souls of your foes!”

 

“Yes!” He was enthusiastic, at least. Have to give credit where it’s due. “First, kill that bitch Lysha! She’ll soon learn her lesson! Because she’ll be dead!” He frowned. “Or…I guess she might not learn her lesson. Hm.” Another pause while I struggled not to roll my eyes. “Don’t kill her too quickly. And let her know that it was I, Parman the Great, who was responsible! Ignorant fool, am I?”

 

I bit my tongue to keep from answering that question.

 

“Once she is dead, come back and I’ll give you the next name on the list to slay.”

 

I tried to match his enthusiasm. “You got it! I’m on the job. Um…any idea where she might be?”

 

He frowned. “Don’t you demons have scrying powers? Um. I guess check Riften? Or Shor’s Stone? They’re close by.”

 

There weren’t any towns around Columbus with those names. It was my turn to frown. “Shor's...you mean the Short North? I’ve never heard of…” I cut myself off. No point in continuing this ridiculous conversation. “You know what? Never mind. I’ll figure it out.”

 

He opened his mouth and I just had time to cover my ears again as his chest swelled and he screamed, “Then GO, MY MINION! DISPENSE WITH MY ENEMIES FORTHWITH!”

 

I nodded and stepped away, only then getting a look at my hallucinatory surroundings - a small cave lit by smoky torches, Parman the Crazed turning away toward an unsteady looking wooden table built along one wall. There was a symbol drawn in chalk on the floor right under my Cole Haan pumps. Kevin had really outdone himself. We were going to have to have a long talk, the two of us. Just as soon as this nightmare was over.

 

I turned away and, after a bit of searching for the exit, I stumbled out of the cave through the door – proof that this wasn't real; who puts a door on a cave? – and out into…well, you know that phrase ‘fresh air’? My life in the world from which I came thought it had fresh air, but compared to Skyrim, the air on Earth is as stale as a dragon's fart. Skyrim's cities, on the other hand, smell like sewers because they don't have sewers. So olfactorily speaking, it's a tossup.

 

Don't feed the bastards - they'll just want more.

 

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