Space Core

POV: Harry Terria

One year ago, if someone had asked me what I thought I would be doing right now... I'm pretty sure that planning the reconstruction of a town wouldn't have even been thought about.

And, I got to tell you, it takes a lot of stuff to even think about building anything. I don't know anything about good house placement or how to position lanterns to get the maximum amount of light possible! Thankfully, things are just finishing up, so I should be free from the torture quite soon.

In fact, the only thing that was left to discuss was where the 'good' temporary lodgings would go for everyone while the town was getting rebuilt. It really hadn't taken much thought, I just needed to say 'In front of the church should be good' and everyone agreed and let the meeting end.

I, myself,  had just now arrived at my favorite spot in the town, the rather dirty remains of a shed burned to the ground. It felt nice to know I had gotten one over it.

Looking around to make sure nobody was nearby, I opened my status and focused on my class. It was called ' Metaphysical Help' and the only description it had was 'Waiting...' At least I still have the 'Hand of Fate' skill.

I sighed and shook my head, I needed to think about more productive things. Yesterday had been a serious mess, those three old ladies and their voices... yeah. Worst even, was the fact that they had seemed to be looking directly at me. Thankfully, no one had panicked during the whole ordeal.

I stood up and was about to go back to the church when I suddenly noticed something rather strange. Right there, in the middle of what had used to be the moderately wealthy section of the city, stood a building that looked to have been built a century or two ago. I hadn't ever seen it before, and it also looked like it had been spared from the fire somehow.

I cautiously walked over to it, passing by the skeletons of some who had the misfortune of getting caught in a fire. The door looked like any other, and the windows had some wooden panels haphazardly stuck over the openings.

With some trepidation, I slowly opened the door. The inside of the building looked like the fever dream of a pig stuck together with the remains of what could've been common sense. There were countless shelves glued onto the walls, floors, and other shelves, all of them contained items that seemed to get weirder and weirder. A jar of eyes here, a still sniffing dog snout. The legs of a chicken... and the whole place looked as if it was covered in oil.

It truly was a wonder that it hadn't burned down.

And then, from nowhere in particular, an old man appeared. Now, when I say old man... I don't mean the old grandpa type or the one that tells kids to get out of 'his' street. No, the old man I was seeing had a look that screamed 'I should have died thirty years ago' and was wearing the clothes I would wear to the funeral of the welcome mat of a house.

"HI! A Costumer! Yes, Yes! A Costumer! Yes, Perfect! Enter, Enter! Also, Don't Eat Any Of The Cereals You May Find Around Here!"

I could hear just how off-key his voice was. It was plain torture. And, I don't know why, I entered the 'shop' fully and made my way to what could have been a desk some fifty years ago. "Hello? Could I know who you are?" I asked, slightly hesitant.

"Oh! Oh! My Name, My Name! Off Course! I'm Trevor Short-top! Yes I Am!" The 'soon-to-be-a-pile-of-dust' said, looking through his shelves as though they made sense.

I made a short sound of acknowledgment and asked another question, "Well, could I know how this... place survived the fire?"

A strange cackle made its way to my ears, "I Asked Of Course! It Can't Burn Me If It Doesn't Have Consent!"

I nodded, not willing to make a single sound.

I think Trevor is now my new favorite character... it's kinda fun to see just how insane I can make him.