We were still walking alongside the tall, rusted fence when a foreboding wind drifted through from the other side of it. I tried to ignore it. A certain scent was hidden in the wind. I tried to think of other things. I could hear its whistle surround us. I tried to ignore it. I could feel it grabbing hold of me and not letting go. I tried to think of other things. I could taste salt water.
"Do not trust the wind. It deceives us. Do not look past the fence. It wants us."
They did not listen. They couldn't. They had become possessed by the evil air. One of them stopped and looked past the fence to the open field behind it. The other also stood there, looking.
Then the professor jumped at the fence and shook at it violently, with his face contorted into a desperate smile.
"Let me in, let me in! I've found you, I've found you, I've fo-"
The fence grabbed him. I can't make sense out of what happened by saying anything else. That's the only description that will suffice. The fence grabbed him, and wrapped around him. The chainlink wiring broke off and cut into his skin. He didn't scream. He felt pleasure.
But then he was back on his feet and the fence was gone and only the field remained. It was as if that never happened.
"Do not go into that field."
The professor got up and shook his head. He ran off towards the open field. I tripped him, and punched him out.
I turned to the journalist.
"It's a trick. That is not the way. Don't fall for its tricks. If this happens again, I will abandon the both of you here, and you will be lost forever within the madness of this place."
The journalist nodded. He took the professor and shook him back to consciousness.
I continued to walk alongside where the fence used to be. There were no signs that it had ever existed between us and the field.
Tuesday, February 11, 2014
Fence
They always react the same. The clients. When we step through that door, they always have the same face as they take in their new surroundings. They're stuck in awe, and yet they're so so frightened. Not out of fear for personal safety, or of possibly losing themselves within this place. They're scared because their dreams have actually come true.What they've lusted after for years isn't some myth. It wasn't fantasy. It wasn't some lie they clung onto to give themselves security. No.
It was the real deal. It's sanctuary to them. It always is.
"We must get moving. Keep close. Don't leave my sight. Go."
I led them into the labyrinth. They stared up at the impossible structures. The journalist's mouth hung open. I chuckled. They hadn't seen anything yet. I led them into the labyrinth, down an empty street. Cracks in the concrete. Shop windows broken. Streetlights blinked furiously.
The sound of silence perpetuated despite our footsteps.
It smelled just the same as I left it. It's an unknown smell. I couldn't describe it. Even if you gave me an eternity to work out the description. It filled me with melancholy. And yet, something else too. It felt like I was home.
Then suddenly we were no longer in the recognized labyrinth, but in a new environment. Ancient trees pushed up from a dense, gray ground and rusted cars lay hidden throughout our surroundings. I panicked a little. This was new.
Usually, the sanctuary appears as a forested wasteland near the end of the journey. This was not the case here. Everything was being shuffled around, as if to spook me and push me out of my comfort zone. It wouldn't make a difference though. I still knew my way there.
We rested at the center of a field on the hood of a burnt out car. The two of them obviously detested rest. They hardly settled down, even after I explained to them how important strength was in this journey. They rolled their eyes and patted their feet against the ground in anticipation of movement.
And then, after fifteen minutes of good rest, I was leading them once again. We heard the roar of some river, but we never came across it. This was perplexing. The roar of the river surrounded us, as if it was directly nearby, and yet we never saw one drip of water.
It was at it's loudest as we turned a bend in the trail. It was as if the river would reveal itself to us finally. Instead, a rusted fence and a barren field greeted us, with hardly anything else in sight.
We couldn't hear the river any longer.
We've been walking alongside the fence ever since.
It was the real deal. It's sanctuary to them. It always is.
"We must get moving. Keep close. Don't leave my sight. Go."
I led them into the labyrinth. They stared up at the impossible structures. The journalist's mouth hung open. I chuckled. They hadn't seen anything yet. I led them into the labyrinth, down an empty street. Cracks in the concrete. Shop windows broken. Streetlights blinked furiously.
The sound of silence perpetuated despite our footsteps.
It smelled just the same as I left it. It's an unknown smell. I couldn't describe it. Even if you gave me an eternity to work out the description. It filled me with melancholy. And yet, something else too. It felt like I was home.
Then suddenly we were no longer in the recognized labyrinth, but in a new environment. Ancient trees pushed up from a dense, gray ground and rusted cars lay hidden throughout our surroundings. I panicked a little. This was new.
Usually, the sanctuary appears as a forested wasteland near the end of the journey. This was not the case here. Everything was being shuffled around, as if to spook me and push me out of my comfort zone. It wouldn't make a difference though. I still knew my way there.
We rested at the center of a field on the hood of a burnt out car. The two of them obviously detested rest. They hardly settled down, even after I explained to them how important strength was in this journey. They rolled their eyes and patted their feet against the ground in anticipation of movement.
And then, after fifteen minutes of good rest, I was leading them once again. We heard the roar of some river, but we never came across it. This was perplexing. The roar of the river surrounded us, as if it was directly nearby, and yet we never saw one drip of water.
It was at it's loudest as we turned a bend in the trail. It was as if the river would reveal itself to us finally. Instead, a rusted fence and a barren field greeted us, with hardly anything else in sight.
We couldn't hear the river any longer.
We've been walking alongside the fence ever since.
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