|Haunted: Mystere Du Le Kooza
Author: Zikka-chan PM
aka "Mystery of the Box" What happens when Trickster comes to Mystere...to make it his own? And what does Moha-Samedi have to do with it? SLASH WARNING: one-sided Trickster/Moha-Samedi. Loosely based off Alan WakeRated: Fiction T - English - Mystery/Supernatural - Chapters: 18 - Words: 40,488 - Reviews: 7 - Favs: 3 - Follows: 3 - Updated: 07-20-12 - Published: 10-09-10 - Status: Complete - id: 6384463
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
*Moha-Samedi, Trickster, and other characters of Mystere and Kooza are copyright Cirque Du Soleil. Storyline loosely based off Alan Wake. WARNING, subtly intended slash…maybe. It's up to you and your point of view. Written for Arixa on deviantart.
When the box had arrived in Mystere, no one knew what of think of it. Red bird and the lizards had been the first ones to find it, and then the other creatures had come onto the stage. Where had it come from?
The man in Pink, Moha-Samedi, ringmaster, emcee and narrator to the mysterious realm of time and life's mysteries, was the first to approach the box, cautiously, one of the babies clutching his leg fearfully. Suddenly, the box practically sprang open; revealing a jack…it was a giant jack in the box. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief that it was that and nothing more…or so they thought.
Just as it seemed the jack was going to sink back from whence it came, it sprang out of the box, into the air and onto the stage. Everyone jumped back, immediately alarmed.
The sly looking jack, wearing a multi-striped suit of orange, blue and gold, looked around at everyone before his eyes rested on the emcee. His sly smile widened.
He introduced himself as the Trickster, the creator of Kooza, another realm in the universe of the Circus from the Sun. he explained that he was travelling from realm to realm, looking for new forms of inspiration for his world. Being a fellow artist, Moha-Samedi agreed that he could stay a few days…but he would be keeping an eye on him. After all, the narrator already had to deal with Brian Le petit, the story intruder, and didn't need another 'Trickster' running around causing mischief.
As the days passed, Trickster's stay seemed more of a blessing than anything. He would merely observe from afar the everyday going ons of the different characters. He even assisted the man in pink with quite a few different scenarios:
-When Bebe Francois's red ball popped, Trickster fixed it with a wave of his hand
-La Belle accidently sprained her wrist, and Trickster healed it simply by kissing her hand
-When the creatures and children were bored, Trickster entertained them with magic tricks
Even the man in pink had to admit, Trickster was far more helpful then he thought. Little did he know it, but Trickster had far more bigger plans for Mystere during his stay…much bigger.
It was night, Moha-Samedi was staying up late, working on his creations. In addition to being a very good ringmaster, he was also a multi-artist and genius in his own right. He had written ballads, composed music, written books and more. However, tonight, he had complete and utter writer's block. He couldn't even write a word on paper let alone think of what he wanted to write about.
Just as he was about to put the pen down and call it a night, He felt warm breath on his shoulder. He turned around, and saw trickster staring over his shoulder. Moha flinched.
"Sorry if I disturbed you," said the Trickster calmly, "but I felt an aura of frustrated distress from your domain."
Moha breathed a calming exhale. "I'm sorry, I'm just not used to others reading over my shoulder…especially when I can't think of what to write…"
Trickster nodded thoughtfully, "well…what do you usually write about?"
"My world, my family…I know them best, you know."
Trickster nodded, taking in the thoughts like a teacher with a student. "You know, I've written quite a few stories about my world as well…why don't we work together to create a story on both our realms?"
Moha-Samedi blinked in surprise. It wasn't a bad idea, in fact it was a great idea, but… "I know nothing of your world though!"
"Not to worry," said Trickster matter-of-factly, "I know plenty of my world, and I've been in your world long enough…you take care of the writing and wording of the piece, I'll suggest how it should go."
Moha-Samedi nodded reluctantly, even thought it was late, he still wanted to get something accomplished before dawn, otherwise he wouldn't be in a good mood knowing he was still stuck with writer's block. However, as he began to write in rhythm of Trickster's voice, he suddenly felt as though he weren't there anymore. He felt as though he were watching someone else write, as if the Trickster's voice where putting him into some out-of-body trance. He watched as Trickster got up, still talking. He saw Trickster leaning down as though to check his visual work…but got uncomfortable as he saw trickster breathing down his neck. Yet he was still writing, his conscious was fading…
Moha-Samedi woke up at his desk, still slightly disoriented. He felt…groggy; whatever dream he had dreamt…then he noticed the pages in front of him. Nearly twenty or so pages of writing in front of him…when had he written this? Suddenly, a noise outside distracted him from reading the piece.
As he peeked out the window on top of the left stage balcony tower he called his domain, he noticed was appeared to be a tall, music box styled tower in the middle of the theater. Where had it come from?
As he made his way down to the stage, he noticed Bebe playing patty cake with whom appeared to be a smaller, more child like version of the trickster. He and Bebe stopped when they noticed Moha. He smiled and waved innocently. Suddenly, there was a shrieking noise in the air, and Bebe ran along with the innocent one into the tower before Moha-Samedi could stop them.
That's when he heard the sound of the chainsaw starting. He looked up and saw what appeared to be…a skeletal, feminine version of Brian le Petit…WITH CHAINSAWS FOR HANDS.
The creature shrieked again as it lunged itself onto the stage. Immediately remembering his phobia of chainsaws (and skeletons, in the case), he ran for cover into the tower…
Where a pair of arms immediately grabbed him, a hand covering his mouth.
"You're an idiot, y'know that?" The voice was female…rebellious and hard-spirited in nature. He muffled "I'm NOT an idiot!"
"Yeah, sure, and speaking some gibberish nobody understands ISN'T idiotic? Man, He was right…you are clueless. No wonder he wants to take advantage of you."
How did she know he spoke Cirquish? Wait, what did she mean by…
"Yeah, he actually treats me with just the respect he deserves, because I know how he works. You, on the other hand, opened the door right up."
He was confused, he felt tired and scared. What was she…
"The story." What? "The one you wrote with him, he used your talent and his magic to merge the worlds together. Since Kooza is his creation, and his creation is now merged with your world, he can control it…and you. What he wants with you apart from everyone else, I don't know."
Moha's heart jumped as flash back of the dream occurred to him…could he have done this. Trickster…why did he want Mystere. Why did he want HIM?
"Now do me a favor…breathe deep." A cloth was pressed to his face, and he couldn't fight out of exhaustion…
Dark water circled around him, he was floating…yet still standing. It was the strangest sensation, like being under water. A voice, a feminine, much softer yet more concerned voice, rang in his head…
"He wants you, to merge both worlds together. If he gains the power of mystery over life, it'll upset the balance between the themes of your two realms. He wants you, he wants your talent. He'll do anything to get it…even seduce you. You must finish the story YOUR WAY. He used his power to brainwash you into writing it HIS way. You are in his power…you must fight him, you must regain control."
Moha's heart was beating like crazy in his chest. In addition to the fear of chainsaws and skeletons, he also had a phobia of losing control. Mystere was his domain, he was its narrator and ringmaster…yet everything was happening so fast…
Suddenly, someone grabbed and locked his arms behind him, using a free hand to clutch his hair, his bowler hat not on his head to protect him…a security item he had forgotten. Trickster's voice purred in his ear…
"I promised I'd help you with your writer's block, AND unlock your true talent. Our worlds would be wonderful together, two wonderlands combined into this mad, chaotic world of wonders…" he took a deep breathe, inhaling his scent, "and secrets. You must finish the tale, but you're too deep into yourself. If you want to finish, you should just lose control…"
Moha felt a violent shudder pass throughout his entire being as the Trickster kissed his neck, breathing into his ear:
Moha desperately tried to ignore Trickster's playful whispers, instead focusing on the voice in his mind…
"You must regain control…"
"Turn the lights on."
Moha practically cried out in alarm as he suddenly awoke in his own bed, the sheet loosely wrapped around his legs, his body covered in a cold, pale sweat. It was just a dream…nothing more…
Then the Trickster bent down, close to his face, lips inches away from his, and whispered…
"Back to work…NARRATOR."
*-SCENE! Sorry for rushing it, creepiest work yet…for my opinion. I think I might even leave it on this cliff hanger, not even sure if I'll expand upon it. Anyway, questions comments, concerns, anything goes! Please don't flame me