As much as he hated it, everyone called him Crow. He would always roll his eyes when someone introduced him as such, and reply with “do I look like a bird to you?” before explaining that he was The Scarecrow. It never worked. The other people always rolled their eyes in turn and invariably said “Crow is easier.” Which he always ended up admitting was fair. But that didnt mean he had to like it.
To his credit, though, that was the only thing he disliked about his situation. He was functionally immortal, being the subject of a strange set of reincarnation rules, had experiences that virtually no other person could claim to have and was a member of one of the best social circles the world had ever seen. He would often brag about its “two sets of twins,” with a rather exaggerated wink.
He wasnt the leader of the group, even if there was such a role. He was a fill in, almost. A seat filler, someone had once said. But he had been such for nearly 70 years now so he counted himself as a full member.
The group had no specific name; who names their group of friends? Most people outside the group who learned of it just called them The Weirdos. And, yeah, it was fair.
The Scarecrow, Crow, was once a human. He still thought of himself as such, even though he could never be a real human again. During a period of spiritual exploration, a mystic on an uncharted island in the middle of the South Pacific, gave him a drug that had no name and was derived from the pollen of a plant that only grew on one side of one mountain in a country that never existed. Fortunately for the human that would become Crow, the mystic already had such a flower, and the two of them spent the next infinity on a strange spirit quest that showed Crow not just the truth about the world and himself, but the truth about everything. Out of everyone that had tried the drug, he was the only one that got it. Also the only one who survived. And for some reason transformed his body into that of a scarecrow. Dont do drugs, kids.
The only member of The Weirdos who gave Crow even the smallest amount of their time was the demon who called itself Zirnaz. The name meant nothing to anyone, but it always maintained that it was the Lord of the Fallen Demons, whatever that meant. Even if it were true, there was nothing this Zirnaz could do about it, considering it was just a severed hand nailed to the wall of the room in which the group met on those rare occasions they were all in the same place at the same time. It was usually Crow who ended up having to chase and recapture Zirnaz when it broke free of the nail and was able to scamper away on the tips of its fingers.
Underneath the usual spot they all nailed Zirnaz to was a small clay pot. It was covered in a perspex case which was, itself, bolted to the floor. In the clay pot was soil. It looked like regular soil; brown, slightly moist, full of things that werent just dirt. Twice a year, though, The Fungus grew. That wasnt its name, per se, but since it didnt talk, there was no way of knowing what it was called. But thats not to say it couldnt talk. It had a mouth, it had teeth and one of the girls – well come to them later – had sworn up and down that she had seen a tongue. All that was known about The Fungus was that whenever it sprouted, it would eat. It would eat anything. It would, if given enough time, even eat the perspex case which kept the others safe from it. Its spores would make even the strongest of wills want to be eaten and there had been several mishaps in the past. Zirnaz was tasked with providing it with sufficient meat to keep it sated so it didnt try to spore any of its friends. Not that it said the group were its friends. But since they all looked after it, and refused to kill it properly – not that it could die; Crow wasnt the only immortal in the group, but shhh, we arent supposed to know that yet – they all considered The Fungus to be their friend and loyal companion through life. The other thing that they all knew about The Fungus was that whenever it did appear out of the soil that looked like, but in reality wasnt, regular soil, then something incredible was going to happen. So far this all ended in mass casualty events, but sooner or later something good would happen, right?
The first set of twins are The Eyes. They had once been part of a human. At least, thats what they believe. They cant actually say for sure because they have yet to find the rest of their alleged body. They are normal sized human eyes. They are still attached to their optic nerves, yet they had both mutated since whatever happened which removed them from their host.
The one that called itself the left eye resembled a slug. A thick leather-like skin had enveloped its optic nerve and it, mostly, moved around as a slug would. It did, however, have four wings growing out of the join between eyeball and optic nerve. These were, thankfully, too small to allow it to fly, but if it fell off anything, they would deploy and it would glide down smoothly to the floor. Also, like a slug, it left an unknown slime behind it. The rest of them, excepting the right eye, could not touch this slime without being subjected to the most terrifying nightmares anyone could imagine. Nightmares that they knew they all had, but never remembered the following morning. The left eye could not explain this. Or refused to. One of them.
As an added level of terror, the left eye had four little pincer like legs. Again, these werent used for locomotion and usually were folded down along the slug portion of its body, but they could – and often did – fan out around the eyeball and were used to catch its prey, spiders, flies, other insects and, according to Crow, one time a rat. The left eye denies this each and every time it comes up. After all, a full grown rat would be too big for such a little eye to catch, right? The idea was simply absurd. Naturally, everyone agreed with it and Crow was, once again, the asshole.
The right eyeball was mute, whether by choice or not is unknown. The left will sometimes speak for it, but often times the two were as unfriendly with each other as the whole group was at the people outside of the group. It, too, had grown a skin around its optic nerve, but this one was more like a snakes. It was scaly and undulating, giving the creeps to the others as it slithered around the room. Unlike its counterpart, the right eye had grown a protrusion on its back, it looked like a scaled down human skull, but it couldnt be since it had bony spikes like a mohawk down its middle and great big fangs that protected the side of its body. It also looked like, but again, couldnt be, bone. The two eyes had no bones. Regardless, the overall effect was to make it look like a snail. A weird, creepy snail that didnt talk. It didnt have wings like its sibling, nor the insect catching pincers. And while no one had seen it eat, they all suspected that the slime it oozed was used for that. Not that either eyeball was going to talk about it at all. They were surprisingly quiet about their personal affairs.
Its been mentioned before that the group doesnt have a leader; who nominates a leader in their social circles? Fucking weirdos, thats who. But, if there were to be a leader, that is someone who took on the role of organising things, getting people to do their share of the chores in their shared space and making sure the rent was paid on time, that person would be Steve.
His name wasnt Steve, and he made sure that they all knew that. But he never said his real name. Just said to call him Steve. And not to ask questions. But he said this in a way that was obviously meant to make you ask questions. And why wouldnt you? The guy was weird. His very being begged questions to be asked. First of all, he was over seven feet tall. His body was out of proportion to his height and his long arms reached down to his knees. He wore a form fitting black cloak, you know the ones, the classic villain look. It didnt have a cape, which I suppose is a saving grace. But you know he has several in a closet somewhere. Each of his outfits, different, yes, but always very similar, covered him from his neck to the floor, with long sleeves covering his hands. Most of the others were convinced there was something underneath his outfits but because he was so friendly, so helpful and so clearly not hostile to the group, they let it go.
His skin is a sickly grey colour and what little of it is visible – usually just the head – was covered in weird runic tattoos. The most prominent was a series of intricate shapes and symbols that wrapped around his bald head like a crown. He refused to acknowledge this tattoo. Claiming he couldnt see it in the mirror. The only ones he liked, and would be happy to talk about were the stylised suns that covered his eyelids. Each one had six ‘beams’ of light emanating from a black circle. The circle was on the eyelid and three beams rose up across his eyebrows, one vertical and the other two off at an angle on either side and the lower three mirrored this. He claimed he did those ones himself.
But enough about him, to be honest, Steve is the most boring member of the group. And everyone else agrees. No one more explicitly than The Twins. These two lovely ladies are the least human of everyone, including the alleged demon hand.
If you saw them standing next to each other, you would expect to be introduced to an actual angel and an actual demon. Turns out, no. Theyre aliens. They arrived on this world nearly 1,000 years ago and have been living among the humans since then. Not hiding themselves at all, but invoking mythical fears and paranoia into whatever group they happen to find. They think its amazingly funny.
The one you would think is an angel is eight feet tall. With the exception of a red sash that hangs loosely around her neck, shes naked. But dont get excited, she also looks like a corpse. Her skin, like Steves, only more aesthetically pleasing, is grey and along the midline of her torso, from her neck to her waist, is a series of leather stitches, holding together the two halves of her front. Like Steve, others have suspected these stitches of hiding something, a rumour that she has denied saying that her body doesnt heal like any of the others and that if the stitches were removed, she would just drop her insides all over the floor.
Besides all that, her form is remarkably close to that of a human woman. With two rather notable exceptions. First of all, where her eyes should be – and this is why youd think shes an angel – are two sets of miniature wings. They do not move and she does not like it when they are touched. They are real wings, with real feathers and if you should catch one of the feathers as it falls and before it hits the floor, she will grant you a single wish. In the whole time she has been on this world, she has granted two wishes. A third feather was caught, but as of yet the person who caught it has not made a wish. It is a feeling she abhors and each day wishes death upon this person.
The second feature is her hands. Instead of what you might expect a relatively normal human person to have, she has three claws, two opposable ones and a longer one between them. These claws have killed more humans than anything ever in history. But youre not supposed to know that, either.
Her sister – genetically, I might add – has a similar structure to her. Eight feet tall, the form of a human woman. Where she differs from her sister is the giant horns that erupt from her head – why youd think shes a demon – and the stone-like texture to her face. Her eyes are blank – she is technically blind – and she covets the other set of twins. One day, in the future, she will offer them a deal.
But for now she travels through life based on her other senses, including one she and her sister share that no one else on this small world could even begin to comprehend. An alien sense that allows them certain information about aspects of reality. When these two sisters huddle together and talk quietly among themselves, you should expect The Fungus to appear very very shortly.
