You are driving.
Your name is Mike.
[[Drive]]You are driving to get away from yourself, from your mistakes.
[[Drive.]]On the drive you see a neon red cross on the front of a church, shining in the night.
[[Drive ]]You think about your parent’s disappointed faces. You haven’t seen them since last Thanksgiving but their dour looks still plague you.
It's not like you haven't been trying. God knows. But they don't understand. They didn't even try to understand.
"Work on yourself, Michael, then we'll talk," she told you over a tupperware of leftover sweet potato casserole.
You still haven't talked. That casserole is still putrifying in your old house's fridge.
[[Drive ]]You drive on, the land stretching empty for miles in front of you. Your car grumbles its protest but you push onward, at least until it announces its displeasure with the orange flash of the gas light. Shit.
[[Turn on your GPS]]Unwilling to disappoint you, your GPS searches valiantly for a gas station nearby. It proudly presents its results to you: Two gas stations found. Both more than 50 miles away. You won’t make it that far.
There’s nothing to do but [[drive]].The meter drops to 30, then 25, then 15, then 10, then 5, then finally to 0. The countryside is quiet all around you as your car grumbles out its death rattle. You knew you should have tried for a AAA card. You get out and clamber on to the roof.
Nothing around you for miles but the same weathered cornfields.
But there. Something in the distance.
A gas station. Weathered as the corn. But you can see the faded neon is still glowing.
[[You decide to wait by the car]]
[[You head towards the Gas Station]]The sun itself seems to shrink away as you walk. By the time you arrive the world is framed in fog, the neon open sign flashing like a lighthouse. A shiver works its way up your spine.
[[Go In]]
[[Turn Back]]You pull open the door to see an inside just as shabby as the outside. A bell by the door announces your presence to no one. Old posters boasting outdated deals and slushie flavors plaster the walls, blocking out much of the outside light, stranding you in the flickering florescence. Dust coats the shelves of chips and candies, some of which are completely alien to you.
You pick up something labeled howlers, a crinkly red bag with a little fire sprite breathing more flames on the front. Holding it makes your hands tingle.
You take your selection up the the counter.
You [[ring the bell.]]Something about this place isn't right. You'll take your chance with the passersby.
[[You decide to wait by the car]].You wait on the side of the road, leaning against the hood of the car. The sun mocks you, beating down relentlessly. Every so often, a car whizzes by.
Then, at last, a car slows down. “Need some help?” The driver asks. You explain the situation.
“That’s why I always keep an extra can of gas on me,” the stranger chides, not unkindly. “Here, lemme fill you up. Should be enough to get you driving again.”
It is. You thank them and clamber into your car. Nothing to do but get back [[on the Road]].A man with more wrinkles than your depression laundry bounds out of the beer cooler, releasing a blast of humid air. You’re glad you didn’t get any beer, it’s clearly not being kept cool.
“You rang?”
You place your treat on the counter, a silent offering.
“Oh, very good, one of our favorites.” His speech comes out wrong, like audio clips cut and stitched together.
You take out your money and he eyes it warily.
"We don't take cash here," he says.
"Do you take card, then?"
"Nope," he responds, popping the p.
"Then how am I supposed to pay?"
"You can have it for free."
You look down at the treat in your hand. Nothing is ever free.
“Well, there is one condition. You have to take a bite.” His jaws snap together on the last word, grinning at you behind his teeth. Something moves behind his eyes, like there is something else looking at you behind the colored glass of his irises.
[[Agree.]]
[[Refuse.]]You unwrap your treat and place it tentatively in your mouth. It fizzles to nothing on your tongue.
“Can I go now?” You ask, suddenly feeling very small. The man says nothing, smiling like a statue, and you bolt, the need for gas forgotten.
You go to [[push]] open the door.“I should really be going,” you begin. The old man smiles placidly and says nothing.
You’re halfway out the door when you remember what you came here for to begin with.
“Do you at least sell gas?” You ask.
“But of course,” the old man says jovially. “This is a gas station, is it not?”
You’re starting to wonder if it really is.
“Can I at least pay for gas?”
“Nope,” the attendant says again and you realize, for the first time, there is no cash register on the counter.
“Just help me move some boxes, and I’ll hook you up,” he says with the same stilted speech.
[[Agree->Move boxes]]
[[Refuse and Go back to the Car->You decide to wait by the car]] "They're just through here," he says, beckoning you.
[[Follow]]Your hand freezes on the bar of the door and refuses to move, no matter how much weight you put behind it. The old man chuckles behind you.
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to take food from strangers?”
They might have, long ago. Clearly, you didn’t listen.
[[Push.]]Strain. Throw yourself against the door. Nothing moves.
[[Push. ]]Strain. Nothing Moves.
[[Push. ]]Nothing Moves.
[[Push. ]]
[[Let go.]]You slump against the door.
"Could use your help in the back," the old man chuckles, voice scratchy as a skipping gramaphone.
[[Follow]]
[[Push. ]]He vanishes into the depths of the beer cooler, propping open the door so you can follow.
You look in. He's nowhere to be seen. Nothing but rows and rows of hot beer, that same stream of summer air, steady and warm on your neck as a breath.
[[Enter]]
[[Run->push]]You step inside, and you know instantly that this is not the beer cooler.
Thick, gnarled hedges pen you in from every side, their unkempt branches straining towards you, scraping your face like talons. The world hums around you: insects, yes, but also the faintest melody, a song you've only ever heard on the cusp of sleep. The lullaby is not enough to keep fear from fastening around you, unfurling from the base of your spine like a blossom.
You whirl around, your eyes wide and rolling as a spooked horse. There is no door behind you, no way to return from whence you came.
"The only way out is through," you hear, from far off, the words holding that same stitched together quality.
The old man. He did this to you.
Then, behind you, silencing the lullaby. A growl, so low it shakes the hedges of your prison.
"Better start soon," he says, from someone beyond your field of view. Two paths open up in front of you.
[[Go Right]]
[[Go Left]]
[[Go Through]]Your fingers dissapear into your chest cavity like your skin is nought but a curtain of vines. It seems like the easiest thing to reach into yourself and pull out your frightened heart. Fat lot of good it’s done you, after all.
You stand before the creature, your heart juddering uselessly in your hands
It pops off its hooves to reveal smooth, grasping hands, takes your heart, and eats it.
“Thank you. You may go,” it says.
[[Go]]
[[Stay]]“I have no more need of you,” the creature says, blood congealing around its mouth.
[[Go]]
[[Stay ]]“Leave, Michael. It’s what you’re good at.”
[[Go]]
[[Stay ]]“Fine, rot here then.” It leaves.
[[Go]]
[[Stay ]]You stand in the hedge maze til the earth itself grows tired of you. Roots emerge from the ground and wind their way around your ankles. You look at them and cannot find the will to move. They caress your arms, wrap around your back, your shoulders, your neck, and still, you remain immobile.
Finally, they close around your eyes and begin to pull you into the frusterated Earth. As your mouth fills with soil, you remember the view from your drive: miles and miles of empty, hungry [[pavement.->on the Road]]You run, heart pounding, sneakers squelching through the mud. Far off, the old man chuckles, and you wish there was room for anger in your heart between the choking fear.
Another growl. Another choice.
[[Go Left ]]
[[Go Right ]]
[[Go Through ]]You run, heart pounding, sneakers squelching through the mud. Far off, the old man chuckles, and you wish there was room for anger in your heart between the choking fear.
Another growl. Another choice.
[[Go Left ]]
[[Go Right ]]
[[Go Through ]]The passage gets narrower, the leaves reaching out to slice at you, and you start to wonder if you made the right choice.
A howl rips its way through the forest and clamps itself around your legs, leadening them with fear.
Another fork in the path.
[[Go Left ]]
[[Go Right ]]
[[Go Through ]]The passage gets narrower, the leaves reaching out to slice at you, and you start to wonder if you made the right choice.
A howl rips its way through the forest and clamps itself around your legs, leadening them with fear.
Another fork in the path.
[[Go Left ]]
[[Go Right ]]
[[Go Through ]]You dash clumsily around the corner and catch yourself on the lower branches. They tear through the thin fabric of your pants and lacerate your ankles. Good, you think, the pain will keep me running.
Blood flies from the cuts as you run, leaving rorshach scatters behind you. It seeps into the ground and the earth itself groans with pleasure. The leaves on the shrubs seem just a bit healthier than they did before.
Another howl. Another path to choose.
[[Go Left ]]
[[Go Right ]]
[[Go Through ]]You dash clumsily around the corner and catch yourself on the lower branches. They tear through the thin fabric of your pants and lacerate your ankles. Good, you think, the pain will keep me running.
Blood flies from the cuts as you run, leaving rorshach scatters behind you. It seeps into the ground and the earth itself groans with pleasure. The leaves on the shrubs seem just a bit healthier than they did before.
Another howl. Another path to choose.
[[Go Left ]]
[[Go Right ]]
[[Go Through ]]You round the corner only to recieve a face full of leaves. The hedge has closed itself in front of you, leaving nothing but a dead end. Fuck.
From behind you there comes a terrible ripping sound, like the earth itself is being rent in two. A dollop of hot saliva drips its way down the side of your face.
[[Turn Around]]You round the corner only to recieve a face full of leaves. The hedge has closed itself in front of you, leaving nothing but a dead end. Fuck.
From behind you there comes a terrible ripping sound, like the earth itself is being rent in two. A dollop of hot saliva drips its way down the side of your face.
[[Turn Around]]A dog the size of a bull stoops over you, black as the nothing behind your eyelids, with eyes as red as yours become when you've just finished crying. It lopes towards you, jowls pulled tight over its teeth as it snarls. You crowd back into the brush, resisting the urge to squeeze your eyes shut. Another raindrop of saliva reassures you that this is all too real.
"Please" you say to no one, and the dog snarls again.
[[Look]]
You look close and notice it is limping. A thorn has embedded itself deep into the dusky pad of one of its paws, and it snarls each time it presses the paw against the ground.
The dog's hollow eyes meet your own.
[[Help.]]
[[Hurt.]]You go to it. You know what it is like to be the lumbering, aching thing, the thing that does not know how to receive help without hurting.
"Hey, shh, shh," you whisper, as you approach, holding your hands up in gentle warning.
"I'm not here to hurt you. It's okay," you soothe, daring even to stroke its matted fur. Anger spears through you, sudden and heady.
"You should take better care of your fucking dog," you spit to no one.
"It's not my dog," comes the voice on the breeze. The dog looks at you with tired eyes and whimpers.
"Here, sit. Uh, good boy?" You try, and to your suprise, the dog does. You reach for its paw, and it does not flinch away. Its trust brings tears to your eyes. You cannot remember the last time someone looked at you with so much trust.
"I'm gonna pull the thorn out now, okay? It's gonna hurt, but then it's gonna feel better," you babble, still wondering if its only a moment before its teeth close around your arm.
"Alright. 3, 2, 1, [[pull]]."
Good. You know just where to strike. You're not taking a single chance in this nightmarish place. You know how it goes. Kill or be killed, and all that.
When the dog again lifts its paw you charge, knocking it into the hedge. You are smaller, yes, but lighter, faster, and your pain and fear has given way to anger. How dare he trap you here? You kick its legs out from under it and the whimper that bursts past its snout is the whimper of a much smaller animal. It almost makes you freeze, makes you pull it close and whisper apologies into its matted fur. But you are used to doing what it takes to survive, and if this is what it takes then you will do it.
One of you is howling. You cannot tell which. It bares its teeth at you, but you are ready. You fasten two hands around its muzzle and [[pull ]].The thorn comes free with a pop, and the dog sniffles in your arms. You watch with awe as it licks the place where the wound was and it closes in a puff of black smoke. You stroke the fur of the dog's back, the familiar texture a comfort in this strange place, and it huffs out its happiness, plopping down to roll over at your feet.
"Hey big guy," you say, patting its soft belly. "Just needed a little gentleness, huh? You weren't so scary after all. "Wanna come along? I'm trying my best to get out of here." You get unsteadily back to your own feet, adrenaline still rushing through you. Your cuts are still bleeding and when the dog sees it wipes its tongue over them and they too, vanish.
"I'm gonna call you Jonathan," you announce, and it woofs in agreement.
The hedge opens up before you. The lullaby begins again.
[[Walk On.]]
The hedges part for you as you trod along, and when the leaves do brush your face, it is with tenderness.
Jonathan trots along next to you, nudging you encouragingly whenever your steps start to falter.
He sees the creature in the clearing before you do.
[[Look ]]The skin comes away in your hands like wet paper. The dog whimpers one last time and dissolves into dust. You were expecting it to put up more of a fight, honestly, but good. Good riddance, you think. You’re shaking, but it’s not with fear.
“Oh ho ho, you shouldn’t have done that!” The voice of the old man says jovially
“Shut the fuck up,” you snarl. You’ll rip him limb from limb too if he dares show his face again. How dare he?
You take the thorn the dog left behind and use it to carve a gash in the hedge til a path appears before you. The lullaby you heard before has hardened into a dirge.
[[Push On.]]
The path in front of you begins to crowd you, thorns scraping against your side. You hack at the leaves with the thorn, but more and more spring forth from the bleeding stems, enveloping you.
"Why are you doing this to me?" you choke out, writhing under a mass of vines.
"Cruelty begets cruelty," comes the old man's lilting voice. Perhaps next time you'll choose more wisely."
"What do you mean next time?" you try to snarl but the vines fill your mouth, primed to tear you apart from the inside out.
"Here's a trick to make it hurt less," the old man sing songs. "Close your eyes and picture a long, empty [[road."->on the Road]]In the clearing you come upon a creature with the body of a hart and the shifting face of a man. It sits back on its hind legs and stares at you with unblinking eyes. You suddenly remember how to be afraid. Somehow, through the miasma of fear, you find a way to look it in the eye.
"You have done well so far on your journey. Let me relieve you of a burden. What do you want to give me?"
[[my heart->eating heart]]
[[nothing, Thank you]]"I appreciate the offer, but I'll keep myself whole," you say. Next to you, Jonathan gives a pleased woof. A thought occurs to you.
"Might I ask something of you?" you begin.
"I suppose it's only fair", the creature says.
"Do you have any dog bones? For dogs, not made of dogs," you think to clarify at the last second.
The creature lets out a full-bellied, startled laugh. "Oh I knew we did the right thing by bringing you here! Yes," it says, spinning crumbling bones out of air, "I do." Jonathan takes the bone happily.
You turn to continue down the path.
"If I cannot ease your burdens, let me at least offer you a warning. Do not trust the vernal queen. If you take what she gives you, you will never get home."
A small voice in the back of your head asks you if you really want to get home at all. Jonathan buries his soft round head in your side. His fur already feels softer beneath your careful hands.
"Thank you," you say to the thing anyways, and when you look back once more it is gone.
[[Walk On ]]The path in front of you is blooming, a fresh carpet of daisies sprouting under your feet. The lullaby from before is louder now, and you find yourself humming it absentmindedly as you walk.
"I wonder who we'll meet next," you ponder aloud as Jonathan bounds next to you.
It is then you see it, a shimmering pond off in the distance, veiled by softly swaying trees heavy with fruit. The sunlight pools across the grass beyond, making it look soft as any cloud. Your head feels heavy, all of a sudden, and you long to stretch out on the soft grass. But that is not what captures your attention.
It's [[her]].She is lounging in the grass, figure framed by swaying cattails. Her iridescent dragonfly wings are splayed about her body, twitching gently when the wind catches them. She sings, combing nimble fingers through long viridescent locks, and you realize with a start that this is where the singing has been coming from. But that is not what stops you in her tracks.
What leaves you gasping like a fish in a net is her [[face]].
To look at her face for too long is like looking at the sun. You have to watch her from under your eyelids or you fear you'll get burned. Her features shift and blur 'til you're not sure what to focus on, but her eyes stay steady as a flickering flame, suffusing your body with warmth when she turns to meet your awed gaze.
"Hello," she says, lips quirked up in the idea of a smile, "Might I have your name?"
"Uhhhhh," you respond eloquently. Her laugh flows over you like rushing water, leaves you stammering and breathless.
Despite it all, the deer creature's warning flickers in the back of your head.
[[Give her your name]]
[[Do not]]You give her your name. What can you say? You've always been easily bewitched by a pretty face.
"Thank you," she says. "I'll make sure to treasure it." The sun feels a little farther away than it did before. You shake it off.
"May I have your name?" You ask in return.
"No," she laughs, "but you may call me the Vernal Queen." She is so pretty that your blood forgets to freeze.
"Come sit by me." Though she lilts up like a question you can feel in your bones that it is an order.
You feel helpless to do anything but [[obey.]]
You fingers tingle with the urge to give her what she wants, but you think better of it. You wind your hands in Jonathan's hair and say,
"I must refrain from that, thank you. But you can call me whatever you like. What should I call you?"
Her smile drops from her eyes but remains pasted on her lips.
"Very well," she says tightly, "you may call me the Vernal Queen." She is so pretty that you blood forgets to freeze.
"Come sit by me?" she asks, though you get the feeling she wishes she could order you to instead.
[[Sit]]
[[Do Not]]You lower yourself to sit beside her, and she pulls you flush to her breast. She smells like lightning; it invades your nostrils and makes you unsteady and hot. You feel the strange urge to put your head in her lap.
"I'm so glad you're here. It's been so long since I've had a companion."
"Happy to help," then, you say awkwardly, and the strange thing is, you are happy to help. "Is there, uh, anything you want me to do?"
"Just sit with me for a bit," she says, and you [[do]].You lower yourself to sit beside her, and she pulls you flush to her breast. She smells like lightning; it invades your nostrils and makes you unsteady and hot. You feel the strange urge to put your head in her lap.
"I'm so glad you're here. It's been so long since I've had a companion."
"Happy to help," then, you say awkwardly, and the bizarre thing is, you are happy to help. "Is there, uh, anything you want me to do?"
"Just sit with me for a bit," she says, and you [[do ]].It takes all your will to refuse her. Every bit of you longs to lounge with her by the pond.
You take a heavy step away, then another, til your legs are carrying you away from the dazzling pond and further on the path.
As you walk away you can hear the singing again, but as it goes on it devolves into nothing but frantic, furious noise, incessant and musicless as the beating of insect wings. You take one last glimpse at her face and see none of the beauty there that you once did, hatred dancing across her features like dappling sunlight.
The path welcomes you back to itself and you are glad to be away.
[[Walk On ]]You walk til your feet ache and then walk on. As you walk, you still hear that same faint lullaby. Just when you think you can take no more, the hedges start to descend, thinning and fanning til you are walking in a brightly lit forest.
Off in the distance you see the shape of a fountain.
[[Approach]]
It could be that days pass. It could be years. You are happy to lie with her under the lazy sun for as long as she wishes.
The sun never sets, and her eyes never close, always watching you with that flickering gaze. Eventually, she stops stroking down your arms to ask,
"Would you do something for me?"
"Of course," you respond before you can think, the words spilling unbidden from your mouth. "What would you have me do?"
"Have dinner with me." she says, and you can find no reason to say no. Wasn't there some reason you were supposed to say no?
[[Agree ]] It could be that days pass. It could be years. You are happy to lie with her under the lazy sun for as long as she wishes.
The sun never sets, and her eyes never close, always watching you with that flickering gaze. Eventually, she stops stroking down your arms to ask,
"Would you do something for me?"
"Of course," you respond before you can think, the words spilling unbidden from your mouth. "What would you have me do?"
"Have dinner with me." she says, and you suddenly remember there was a reason you were supposed to say no.
[[Agree ]]
[[Do Not]]The moment you say yes, the world transforms. You are no longer in a garden, but at one end of a long, elegant table, laden with food.
In front of you is a scene of impossible decadence. Green grapes translucent, like blisters, apples like blushing cheeks, the ripeness painted on, lemons half peeled, the juice exposed and organs underneath, shorn like hair, several severed plums, the pits exposed and winking at you, red, plump grapes spilling off the table onto the carpet below.
The Vernal Queen picks up an apricot with slender figures and and bites into it with a sigh, letting the juice drip down her chin.
"Eat up," she commands, and you pick up a carmine apple, considering the calming weight of it in your hand.
"Come now, don't keep me waiting," she chides, and once again you are helpless to resist the tide of her gaze.
You take a [[bite]].The crisp flesh dissolves in your mouth like a promise.
The Vernal Queen looks very far away, all of a sudden. Impossibly large, growing and growing to take up the whole of your vision. You tumble from your chair and bounce once against the soft carpet. It is not her that is growing, you realize, but you that is shrinking.
Your vision goes red, then white, around the edges, and her voice, soft as a dream and twice as frightening comes from right next to your ear.
"I must admit I wasn't telling the whole truth when you came to me. I did desire a companion, but companions always seem to leave. I've since found a solution for that. I am a gardener by trade, you see."
Small as you have become you now fit in her hand. She picks you up and you are warm all over, captured in the filtered darkness of her palm.
"Don't mind the dark of the soil, dear. It's but a prerequisite for blooming. I promise when you wake, you'll make a beautiful addition to the garden."
You drift away from yourself, dreaming of a long, empty [[road->on the Road]].A little faerie sits on the edge of the fountain, splashing their feet in the sparkling water. You grin to yourself - their shoes even have little baubles on the tips.
"Hello!" It says brightly, "You must be very tired."
You are.
"I'm not here to hurt you," it says, and though you're not sure whether to believe it, you're more likely to trust it by the way Jonathan goes to bump its head into the faerie's side. It's so small that the weight of the gesture almost makes it topple into the clear water.
"Tell me of your journey," it asks plainly, rolling a copper coin between two fingers.
Of your own accord, you begin to [[speak]].When you are done, the creature nods, reminding you distinctly of the affect of middle school art teacher.
“Do you like who you are? Are you happy with what you’ve become?” The creature at the fountain asks you. The gentle openness in its face makes you feel more peeled open than any knife.
“Would you like to try again?”
[[Yes->on the Road]]
[[No]]
"Then I can offer you a way home if you like it. If not, you are welcome to stay here. There is more of the world beyond this maze. The Cain-Sith has taking quite a liking to you," they say, gesturing to Jonathan.
You take a moment to consider. Beyond the fountain you can see the beginnings of a shining city, framed by rows of flowering trees. Jonathan barks happily at your side.
[[Stay.]]
[[Go.]]A new world. Another chance. You can be anyone here.
"I'd like to stay," you admit. "There's more of this world I want to see."
"Very well," the fae says and hands you the copper coin. It is warm in your palm, smoothed flat by the touch of so many hands.
"Simply toss it in the fountain, and close your eyes," they instruct. "When you open them, you will find yourself as whatever form you wish." You give Jonathan one last pat and let the coin [[fly ]]."I'd like to go home," you decide. "I have a life I finally want to get back to."
"Very well," the fae says and hands you the copper coin. It is warm in your palm, smoothed flat by the touch of so many hands.
"Simply toss it in the fountain and close your eyes," they instruct. You give Jonathan one last pat and let the coin [[fly]].When you open your eyes you are standing by your car, next to a full can of gas.
"Thank you!" you say to no one. The world is open and brilliant ahead of you, and you feel only peace as you look out over the rows and rows of shivering corn. You put the gas in your car, and turn the key.
Time to get back on the road, you think to yourself. Nowhere to go but [[forward]].THE END
Unless, of course, you'd like to take another [[drive?->on the Road]]THE END
Unless, of course, you'd like to take another [[drive?->on the Road]]This story contains light body horror, possible animal death, and discussion of mental health/addiction.
[[Ok.->on the Road]] [[WAYFARER->Welcome]]You will not be confined by someone else's choices. You push through the hedges, not caring how they scrape your arms and tumble onto another path.
Far off, the old man chuckles, and you feel your heart clench with anger.
The thing howls again. Two more paths present themselves to you.
[[Go Left ]]
[[Go Right ]]
[[Go Through ]]You rip through more hedges, ignore the lacerations that the thorns bestow. Perhaps if you fight through enough, you'll find some way out of here.
Before you can step from the greenery, a howl rips its way through the forest. Your anger slowly seeps from you, replaced by a leaden fear.
Another fork in the path.
[[Go Left ]]
[[Go Right ]]
[[Go Through ]]You and the maze both know the drill by now.
Blood flies from the cuts as you run, leaving rorshach scatters behind you. It seeps into the ground and the earth itself groans with pleasure. The leaves on the shrubs seem just a bit healthier than they did before.
Another howl. Another path to choose.
[[Go Left ]]
[[Go Right ]]
[[Go Through ]]You round the corner only to recieve a face full of leaves. The hedge has closed itself in front of you, leaving nothing but a dead end. Though you rip at it, the leaves are never ending. Fuck.
From behind you there comes a terrible ripping sound, like the earth itself is being rent in two. A dollop of hot saliva drips its way down the side of your face.
[[Turn Around]]You wobble off, lighter, but so much emptier.
The path in front of you crowds you, hedges tangling together til you have to hack your way through just to move forward. You spit a leaf out of your mouth in disgust and [[march on]].
As you walk, you begin to feel woozy. The empty place in your chest beats, even though nothing remains.
Jonathan snuffles at your side, and you pat him distractedly.
You think of your parents dissapointed faces and feel nothing at all.
[[Continue On.]]
The world seems less saturated, somehow. The hedges begin to grow roses and you reach out, prick yourself on the thorns. Blood pools on the pad of your finger and the earth hums in pleasure where your blood falls. The pain flickers at your periphery, then dims. It simply doesn't matter enough to feel.
Nothing to do but [[continue on.]]
You follow the path without thinking, and isn't that strange? All your resistance to this uncanny world has fled, leaving you shaky and hollow as the burnt out bones of an old house.
The path leads you to a crystalline stream, and Jonathan bounds in, the water lapping politely at his stomach. He buries his muzzle and drinks his fill, seeming confused when you do not do the same. You think of the old man and his odd snacks and though you stoop to wash the grime from your face, you do not drink. Your movements feel mechanical, like everything is done from behind a sheet of cloth. Your hands go to your diaphram, unthinking, to ease your shaky breaths and you feel your chest pulse around the emptiness inside it.
You long to rest. You don't think you've rested in a long time, not really. Your's is not a head that ever offers you peace, but perhaps, by this stream, you could find it. Do you not deserve that?
[[Rest.]]
[[Do not.]]Despite Jonathan's snuffling, you lay down on the banks of the stream. The grass is plush and sways gently in the wind, caressing you. Is it so wrong to want to be held? To want to rest?
When the water rises from the stream and cocoons you, you let it. It is the first time you have been held in such a long time. Jonathan barks, but you pay him no mind. Sorry, you think, far off from yourself. Sorry to leave again, but I'm so very tired.
You let the yourself sink into the pellucid water. As it fills your lungs you think only of a long, beckoning [[road.->on the Road]]
Jonathan presses his wet nose into your hand, and it is this, this little bit of comfort, that lets you uncrumple yourself from where you droop over the stream.
The distant feeling, the cloth over everything intensifies. You are not a stranger to this feeling, it's part of the reason you started drinking. An ache that could not be soothed, only temporarily pacified, plied by spirits and sin.
It was never enough. The ache always came back anyway, along with a pounding headache and the consequences of yesterday.
You thought getting rid of your heart would make the ache go away, but you realize now you have only dug the ache a bigger burrow.
As soon as that realization sinks in, you see it, as if manifested from your fears.
[[An arena.]]You are not a fighter. Every instinct in your body primes you for flight, and you have spent years honing this response, ducking and dodging and fleeing when a problem presents itself to you. But looking at the scene in front of you, you only feel empty, too tired to flee.
[[Look at the arena.]]
It is a gargutan thing of stone and mud, a gash in the verdant landscape. In the middle sits a statue of a minotaur, made from clay.
You take a cautious step towards it and the statue's mouth opens, clay cracking around dry lips as it breathes.
"Thank you." it says, voice like the shifting of tectonic plates, ancient and low.
"For what?" You can't help but ask.
"Your sacrifice has brought me to life."
"What sacrifice?" The clay minotaur says nothing, only points to the hole in the center of your chest. You look at it dumbly, notice it is glowing, particles of light drifting out from your diaphram. Huh. When did it start doing that?
"I thank you for trading your life for my own." The beast says solemly. Your heart would skip a beat, if you had a heart.
"What," you say dumbly, not even a question.
"Surely you know one cannot live without a heart."
You knew that, of course, it's just that, you thought things could be different here. That you could be different here.
"What will happen to me?" You ask. Even breathing is a burden. The world rests so heavy on your chest.
"You'll change, in time." It looks impassively at the glowing hole in your chest. "Sooner rather than later, it seems."
Behind you you hear a laugh like a phonograph scratch.
[[You turn.]]"Oh what a pickle you've gotten yourself into!" The old man says with glee from one of the arena's benches. You don't have the energy to question how he got here. Perhaps he was watching all along.
"Help me," you gasp. "How do I fix this?"
"Take your heart back."
"But that will kill him."
"I know," the old man says like he is talking to a child. "Was yours first though, wasn't it?"
You look helplessly at the minotaur. He meets your gaze evenly. You can see your heart pulsating inside of him.
"It's okay," the minotaur says. "I don't mind being clay. It's very peaceful."
"Alright!" the old man says, clapping his hands together twice. "Enough jibber jabber! Time to make your choice."
[[Fight]]
[[Flee]]
[[Surrender]]"I'll fight. I'm sorry, but I need my heart." You look solemnly at the minotaur. The minotaur says nothing, but nods comfortingly, before reaching a hand into the earth and pulling forth an enormous axe, also made of clay.
"Fight me, then. No more running, Michael."
For a moment your resolve falters, staring down the blade of that beast. But you want to live, you can feel it now, not sure what changed within you except maybe the realization that you could lose it, that this could be it, forever. And forever is an awfully long time.
You summon the last of your strength and [[leap forward.]]
You don't want any fucking part of this. You'll find some other way to survive without a heart. Fuck their games.
Guess you were proving them all right in the end, though. Michael always leaves.
You take a hurried step, then another, then another, but your feet feel heavier and heavier with each step. The path on the other side of the arena seems very far away all of a sudden.
You try to lift your feet to take another step and realize you cannot.
[[Look down.]]
You can't do it. Even though it was your heart to begin with, you can't take it back.
"What will happen to me?" You ask the minotaur, though you already know the answer just by looking down at your feet.
Clay oozes up between your boots, climbing up your legs and hardening. Nowhere left to run. Your hands, too, are crumpling into mud, calcifying along the length of your arms.
"I'm sorry, Jonathan," you whisper, as the clay fills the hole in your heart.
"Rest now," the minotaur commands, putting a furry paw on your shoulder. You look at him, unmoving, see how the clay sloughs off him to reveal flesh underneath. If you had your heart, perhaps you'd be angry. But now it only seems inevitable. Perhaps, one day, you'll be awoken too.
As your eyes turn to clay you think only of the possibility of a long, empty [[road.->on the Road]]When the battle is done you are left panting, bloody, and covered in clay, standing over the wheezing body of the minotaur.
"I'm sorry," you tell it. "I'm so so sorry." Your tears fall on the clay and wet the minotaur's cracked lips.
"Don't be," says the ancient thing, lips tilted up in a faraway smile. "It was never mine to begin with. With a last grunt of effort it heaves an arm into its chest and yanks free the heart, dripping with gore and mud. It presses the heart against your chest with a shaky grip and the heart enters you with a wet pop.
The hole closes up without a seam, like there never was a wound. If you look closely, you can see a faint gold glow haloed between your ribs. Beneath you the minotaur gurgles and falls silent.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," you say to no one. Even the old man has fled.
You turn and leave the minotaur [[behind.]]The veil around the world has been lifted. You no longer feel so disconnected, so alone. Jonathan trods along beside you, bits of clay flecking his muzzle.
You can't help but feel guilty, though you're not sure if you should. It was your heart, after all. Was it wrong to take it back? Behind the grief lurks the pride of having faced something for once, and it is the pride you feel the guiltiest about.
The ache in your chest is still there, but lesser, somehow.
[[You continue on the path.]]You walk for what feels like miles, though the sun never sets. Just as you feel exhaustion wrap its waiting hands around you, something break the monotony.
There in the distance is a shimmering pond, veiled by softly swaying trees heavy with fruit. The sunlight pools across the grass beyond, making it look soft as any cloud. Your head feels heavy, all of a sudden, and you long to stretch out on the lawn. But that is not what captures your attention.
It's [[her]].Your feet are covered in wet clay. You try to wrench them out, but the clay holds fast, creeping up your body. You look down at your hands and watch them too crumple to mud, the clay spreading up your arms now, covering you, consuming you.
You hear lumbering steps from behind you, but you cannot turn around. You're glad you no longer have a heart with which to be afraid.
"Sorry," the minotaur says, as he raises his axe. "It'll hurt less this way."
As the axe comes down, you picture hurtling along an endless, empty [[road.->on the Road]]