2011-05-28, 08:06 PM
#10
. . . investigates his books for more clues.
The shimmering light of the crystals splashes over the books, drawing his attention to them. His memory of the cabin is painful and mysterious. The man stares at the books, cautiously, noting their odd presence. He wants desperately to run into the labyrinth and find the woman, but the books grip him once more...just like in the cabin. In total, he stole seven books from the curious bookcase. Strewn amongst the others, The Man Who Stared Into The Void demands the most attention. The man reaches out for it, remembering it as the first book he plucked from the shelves. He opens it and pages past the blank pages and "III." to the beginning of the story.
"He was a young man, no more than the age of twenty-seven.
His past ripe with happiness.
Why, then, does the young man seek sorrow?
His lover beautiful, a maiden whose years only narrowly miss his own.
Her touch is rough but full of love.
Why, then, does she not satisfy him?
The story of foolish friends and lovers began on a cold day.
With clouds painted dark gray.
He leads his companions to a dream, mutual, yes.
But more his own insanity than a lust for fame or exploration.
Their destination my home, a mere cavern by their eyes.
Something they will never understand by my own.
Inside, I greeted them readily.
I am not often granted the company of others.
Confused and horrified, they ran from me.
No doubt questioning everything they understood of this place.
Thus, I had to chase them--I ask, would any host not do the same?
Lovers and friends divided, unwilling to accept their discovery.
Their story, I write for my own pleasure."
The man closes the book, unable to read more. Each paragraph grabs at something locked away inside his mind. Memories. Emotions. Each word feels more familiar than the last, but he can't make sense of any of it. The cryptic formatting, the odd tone of the thoughts, the narrator...the story. He shakes his head trying to understand why he knows these words. Frantically, he grabs for the other books and examines them more closely. All the same.
"The Man Who Stared Into The Void"
Each title, the same. Every beginning, the same. The numbers...different. I. III. VI. X. XI. XVII. XX. The man screams and pounds his fist into the cave wall. His mind races with broken pieces, fragments he can't pin down. Like a misplaced name, hanging frustratingly out of reach. The labyrinth feels inviting--a welcome escape from the labyrinth of his mind. Every corridor could hold an answer, while every page only frightens him more. The crystals pulsate with a strange rhythm, picking pace with his heart. His broken memories thrash around inside his head, driving him to . . .
---
A) Read more from the books.
B) Gather his things and run into the labyrinth.
C) Gather his things and try finding his way back to the river.
D) Abandon everything and try to escape.
---
[SPOILER=Author's comments]
Oh boy, where does a week go. Sorry for the wait. Gonna try getting several done this Memorial Day weekend.
To five.
. . . investigates his books for more clues.
The shimmering light of the crystals splashes over the books, drawing his attention to them. His memory of the cabin is painful and mysterious. The man stares at the books, cautiously, noting their odd presence. He wants desperately to run into the labyrinth and find the woman, but the books grip him once more...just like in the cabin. In total, he stole seven books from the curious bookcase. Strewn amongst the others, The Man Who Stared Into The Void demands the most attention. The man reaches out for it, remembering it as the first book he plucked from the shelves. He opens it and pages past the blank pages and "III." to the beginning of the story.
"He was a young man, no more than the age of twenty-seven.
His past ripe with happiness.
Why, then, does the young man seek sorrow?
His lover beautiful, a maiden whose years only narrowly miss his own.
Her touch is rough but full of love.
Why, then, does she not satisfy him?
The story of foolish friends and lovers began on a cold day.
With clouds painted dark gray.
He leads his companions to a dream, mutual, yes.
But more his own insanity than a lust for fame or exploration.
Their destination my home, a mere cavern by their eyes.
Something they will never understand by my own.
Inside, I greeted them readily.
I am not often granted the company of others.
Confused and horrified, they ran from me.
No doubt questioning everything they understood of this place.
Thus, I had to chase them--I ask, would any host not do the same?
Lovers and friends divided, unwilling to accept their discovery.
Their story, I write for my own pleasure."
The man closes the book, unable to read more. Each paragraph grabs at something locked away inside his mind. Memories. Emotions. Each word feels more familiar than the last, but he can't make sense of any of it. The cryptic formatting, the odd tone of the thoughts, the narrator...the story. He shakes his head trying to understand why he knows these words. Frantically, he grabs for the other books and examines them more closely. All the same.
"The Man Who Stared Into The Void"
Each title, the same. Every beginning, the same. The numbers...different. I. III. VI. X. XI. XVII. XX. The man screams and pounds his fist into the cave wall. His mind races with broken pieces, fragments he can't pin down. Like a misplaced name, hanging frustratingly out of reach. The labyrinth feels inviting--a welcome escape from the labyrinth of his mind. Every corridor could hold an answer, while every page only frightens him more. The crystals pulsate with a strange rhythm, picking pace with his heart. His broken memories thrash around inside his head, driving him to . . .
---
A) Read more from the books.
B) Gather his things and run into the labyrinth.
C) Gather his things and try finding his way back to the river.
D) Abandon everything and try to escape.
---
INVENTORY
[SPOILER=Author's comments]
Oh boy, where does a week go. Sorry for the wait. Gonna try getting several done this Memorial Day weekend.
To five.