A sullen figure trudged through the verge, stumbling and adjusting balance according to some rule known only to the beholder. Distant cries of confined animals echoed throughout the night. The road was long and barren, Itself woke up to fields stretched out beyond imagination, the dew in the moonlight looked crystalline. Understanding of the situation was thin, Itself had wandered far from the light. A town was not far over but the unforgiving terrain merited some caution. Occasionally a car would pierce through, blinding and unforgiving. Street lights in the distance caught Its eye, “home” It uttered in the darkness.
The process of putting one leg in front of the other was now an instinct, a homing beacon shone out from the hills above. Chimes reverberated from distant plantations and the road seemed alive stretching out in front as a snake would. As the town approached an alarming sight greeted It at the gates, 8 hooded figures spaced randomly across the road as if waiting. Itself froze, fear struck like an ancient animal relic. At first it seemed merely a trick of the light, the figures were so still and lifeless. A dark, low voice suddenly reverberated the landscape as if it was merely a stones throw away: “A great valley must be traversed, the passage navigated, then you may find a home”. Startled Itself turned to the direction the voice had been coming from in the hedgerow, he found nothing. Clearly this journey was tainted by the touch of demons.
A moment of madness, a moment of suicidal rage, Itself laughed manically into the darkness. Tonight was the night. An end was in sight. A stumble became a walk, a walk became a jog, a jog became a full on sprint towards the towns gates. Suddenly pain, Itself was smashed in the opposite direction by a blue forcefield type structure spreading across the width of the road. Dazed, Itself pulled his injured figure across the tarmac. “You... must not continue” the voice chanted, this time seemingly inside Itselfs head. It was bemused and uttered into the night “Where is she, the maiden of the dead. Another temporary excursion into materialistic abhorrences?”. The voice of the eerily still group echoed back “Why do you persist, they have moved into other narratives. The valley is all you care about now”. “It's wrong” Itself shouted, “this was the right universe and I stepped into it to be happy”. As suddenly as they appeared the group was gone from the road, leaving nothing but mist behind. Cautiously Itself edged up to where the forcefield was, it was gone.
The walk back into town rolled on, an odd hangmans noose swayed from a tree. The buildings and lights seemed to spiral inwards, an infinite fractal perforated the shattered fabric of reality. Itself collapsed.
|
