Unnamed Journal Volume 3, Issue 2 - Page 58

and smiled. Nehra returned his smile and began removed her pale head-wrap. She tousled her hair a bit and scratched her head. “So, what do you want to know?” She said, tilting her chin up and down in a stretch. “Well, I guess I’ll start by asking you why you came here. You know, to Earth?” “I am a fugitive. I came here to hide.” “Who are you hiding from?” “I am hiding from the rest of my people.” “Why?” “Because I can no longer live with them,” she said. “Because?” “Because of this,” she said holding up the head wrap. “What, they don't like your scarf? I don’t get it.” “This isn’t really a scarf, Ulysses, though it does resemble one currently. Look,” she said holding up the fabric as it seemed to come alive in her hands. “What the fuck?!” Ulysses shouted as he jumped to his feet. “Shh,” Nehra said, “it’s okay, it's dead.” As she spoke the scarf became a small ball in her hands, then a cube, then a cylinder. She smiled at him. “What is that thing?” “This,” she said holding it up as it became scarf-shaped again, “was to be my own personal ruler: a parasite that would bend my will to its own.” “Wait, what?” “For generations my people, called the notua have been subjugated by the hyssopshebolith. This is a hyssopshebolith corpse.” “So you killed it?”