Cosmic Walks and Ennui

Humanity has always had a strained relationship to darkness. We covet the light because it protects us from the dark, yet few of us can ever rest without it. As you come to, you find that your eyes are closed, shut tight in a way where nothing shines through them. As people often do, you tally your limbs, and find none misplaced. You are not bound and gagged, there is no beep of a heart monitor, no hint as to why you were ever unconscious. Your eyes are merely closed, closed like the shutter of a camera, and you have not yet decided to open them. Until you do, the dark will remain, as it tends to do. There is some time to ponder, some time to feel. You must be laying down, something is playing at the tips of your fingers and your head is cushioned against a warm softness. How does the dark make //you// feel? Are you [[afraid?]] Or are you [[comforted?]]

It is understandable. You are right to be afraid. Until you can prove otherwise, the darkness around you is //endless//, and whatever is in it could be endless, too. Someone must have found it amusing to give humans no lack of imagination. There is no limit to what might sleep in the shade, past the border of perception. Perhaps you feel much like a fish, swimming aimlessly through the deep, looking for solace, safety, somewhere to rest. And instead, what you find is a lone light, beckoning you forward. Are you afraid of what is there, or perhaps what is not? What horrifies you more, being surrounded, or being utterly alone? There is one way to see which is true. Do you [[open your eyes?]] Or do you wish to [[stay oblivious?]]

To some, the dark is merely a time for rest, for reflection and pause. Time slows when it is dark, to a nearly unnoticeable crawl. Do you feel consoled by it? Do you feel held, safe and warm in a space where no one can find you? You reach your hand out, eyes shut tightly closed, and feel nothing. There is nothing here but you, inexplicable and natural all in equal measure. Your lungs fill with air, your heart pumps blood to outstretched fingertips. You are alive, brimming with presence, and you are all alone. You could teeter on the edge of consciousness forever, existing but not participating in the world around you. You could drift far beyond, to somewhere you have never been, somewhere grand and without borders. You could dream, forever. But perhaps it is time to [[open your eyes?]] Or are you [[not ready?]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:white))...Sometimes, the dark is only the absence of light. As you open your eyes you find yourself looking up at the sky, cornflower blue and absent of any clouds. The grass beneath you is flattened from hours of taking your weight. The wind rustles softly through it, sweeping through the fabric of your clothes. There are no sounds of living things. No crickets chirping, no birds or bugs or bicyclists. There is only you, the grass, and the sky. You feel an eerie sense of urgency. You do not know what you wish to do about it, only that it is there, and it does not wish to leave you alone. There is something to be done, and you must do it now. Perhaps you should [[sit up?]] Or perhaps you wish to [[examine things further, first?]]

Are you sure that is the right choice? Are you sure you will not regret this? As something reaches toward you, pulling you in and tearing you apart, are you sure you will not wish you had seen it coming? Is ignorance truly bliss, or do you just deeply wish it was? Whatever you fear, it will either be there or not, regardless of if you choose to see it. By now, surely, you must have realized that if danger was near, it would have pounced by now. You are, after all, an exceedingly easy prey. Eyes closed, begging to be punished for your own reluctance. Perhaps the world has taken pity on you, and wishes to leave you alone. But your heart is fluttering like a bird, terrified and alone and you //refuse// to give it reprieve because you think closing your eyes is safer? No, it begs you, beating nearly out of your chest. [[Open your eyes.->open your eyes?]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:white)) Air fills your lungs as you sit upright, the grass underneath you stretching in relief. Though there is wind, it is an otherwise warm day, and your arms are bare. You stretch your legs a little. It feels as though you have been sleeping for quite a while. It is quiet around you, nothing but the breeze through the grass and the leaves in a nearby tree. It stands in the middle of the field, unbothered by the growth of weeds around it. It is old, and large, and though it is out of place, it fits in much better than you. As you look at it, you hear a [[rustle of the grass.]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:white)) It turns out you're in a field, grass and flowers and weeds sprouting out of the ground. It runs farther than you can see, no matter how you try to squint. A few feet away is a tree, its leaves moving gently with the wind. Something is off. You cannot tell exactly what it is that tips you off, but you realize the sun is not in the sky. There is light, the sky is blue and it feels as though you can see rays tracing through the grass, but you cannot see the source. Some say that when you're out in nature, the absence of sound is the most terrifying thing you can experience. It means you should hide, just like everything else is. It is dead silent, now. Except, behind you, there is a [[rustle of the grass.]]

Somewhere down this road, you must learn that while we all make our choices, some choices will always be made for us. There is free will, there is determination and resolve, and it will all melt away nothingness, if the universe wishes upon you something else. You can stay here for as long as you wish, wrapped in the blanket of your own naivete. But sooner or later it ends, like all things do, and you must move on. Perhaps that is all life ever is, moving on. Ends and beginnings and ends again, until you're sick to death of it. Your heart beats louder in your chest, as you realize the dark is giving you ample room to think too hard. It beats, and beats, a steady rhythm. A thrum of: [[open your eyes->open your eyes?]] [[open your eyes->open your eyes?]] [[open your eyes->open your eyes?]] [[OPEN YOUR EYES.->open your eyes?]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:white)) For a moment, you feel like a gazelle grazing, about to face their very last moment on the Earth. You are about to be pounced by a wild animal, and you do not have anyone to sacrifice in your stead. Nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide. This is not what happens. Instead, a figure eases up toward you, the fabric of their skirt twining in and out of the grass. Sun-bleached hair and a pair of bright, blue eyes. Their hands are behind their back like that of a soldier at attention, though their walk is gentle, soft, bare feet whispering across the ground like they wish to let the bugs buried under it rest. You are now a few feet away from [[a young girl]], her face lit up in a smile that says she knows everything, and you know nothing. You are not sure if you want to [[greet her]], or to try and [[run away]].

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:white)) The more you look at her, the harder it is to remember anything at all about what she looks like. She has ~~blonde~~ ~~brown~~ ~~black~~ ~~red~~ hair that twirls into itself in the breeze, and her eyes rove over you like you have amused her. Have you ever heard someone say that they are laughing with you, not at you? She is laughing at you. There is no doubt about it. You are //funny//, where you sit on the ground, disoriented and lost. She knows where you are, you can tell. It is alarming, and you are torn between [[greeting her->greet her]] and [[running away.->run away]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:white)) "Hello," you say, and your voice sounds a little shaken, a little stirred, like no one's favorite martini. If she notices, she does not tell you, only tilts her head in acknowledgement. "Did you sleep well?" Her voice is the sound of bubbles in a stream, the wings of busy hummingbirds, the echo of a canyon. Her voice holds so much, and yet it is oddly hollow, lacking of any distinct character. You are not sure you slept well. You do not remember falling asleep, or waking up, and does this mean you slept //very well//, or does it mean you did not sleep? She chuckles, light and airy and like she knows how you feel. "Take your time." The girl moves over to the tree you spotted in the field, sitting down at the base of it, eyes never leaving yours. "Do you know why you're here?" It is a question she asks much like one would ask what you want for breakfast, or what your favorite color is. She is staring, now. Best not to keep her waiting. [[Do you know?]] Or [[do you not?]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:white)) You get to your feet as quickly as you can, kicking off before she can question it and running in the opposite direction. A part of you is asking yourself what the //hell// you think you're doing, she looks like she weighs about as much as a beagle sopping wet, and you are //terrified//? You are scared she might, what, strangle you to death with her arms that are approximately the circumference of a dinner fork? Is that what you think? It is stupid, but this does not stop you. Something else does. As you run, and you run, and you run, the field never ends. You keep running, the grass tickling your feet as you go, and you see no end to it. There is no end. Finally you come to a halt, exhausted, bent over your knees, and you look back. You are approximately twenty feet away from the tree, and from the girl now moving to sit down by it. She cups a hand over her mouth so you can hear her better. "Are you done?" There is nothing left to do, is there? You could [[keep running]], but you are afraid it will not do you any good. Perhaps you should go and [[greet her]].

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:white)) "Oh," she hums, surprised. She was not expecting this. "Are you sure? I am told it can be hard to discern, in a place like this." She pats the ground next to her, picking up a stray flower with the other hand. "I suppose you might just be good at figuring things out. Or good at guessing. The two are similar, no? What separates them is, I suppose, intent." As you look at her, you see the silhouette of clouds start to darken her face, just a little. It seems the weather must be changing. You could go and [[sit with her]], if you are so inclined. She seems patient, willing to let you get all that pent up energy out, first. Perhaps you want to [[investigate this place]], first. It feels like you have all the time in the world. You could even choose to [[scream your lungs out]], just to see what it will do.

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:white)) I bet you wish Leo wasn't taking a break. SHE PAT GROUND [[sit with her]] [[investigate this place]] [[scream your lungs out]]

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(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:white)) As you come to sit next to her, she smooths out the fabric of her clothes. It might have been a trick of the light, but for a second you think her hand went //through// it instead. You stare at her hand, trying to figure out what happened, and she catches you. Bright (text-colour:red)[green] eyes look at you, head tilted in thought. "Well, give it a go, then. What do you think this is?" Well? [[This is a dream.]] [[I have died, and this is heaven.]] [[I have died, and this is hell.]] [[Something else has happened, I do not know what, but I must be unable to wake up.]]

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[(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:white)) Perhaps you will simply [(text-rotate-z:11)[fall] [(text-rotate-z:47)[a] (text-rotate-z:62)[p] (text-rotate-z:73)[a] (text-rotate-y:26)+(text-rotate-z:78)[r] (text-rotate-y:26)+(text-rotate-z:93)[t]]]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:white)) "Oh. Were you expecting me to tell you if you were right or wrong?" A chuckle, like you have told a very nice joke. She shakes her head, locks of hair bounce over her shoulders. "No. That is not the game we are playing. We are playing a game of conversation. Not a debate, not an argument. There does not have to be a winner and a loser." YOU HAVE REACHED THE END OF THE PROJECT SO FAR! If you're interested in seeing my other projects, feel free to visit https://noriben.carrd.co/!

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:white)) "Delightfully vague for someone who claims they understand." She leans back against the tree, picking at stray blades of grass. The silence stretches out between you, and you think you might have done something wrong. You failed the test, and now she is punishing you. The girl glances up, eyes bright and watchful. "Oh. Were you expecting me to tell you if you were right or wrong?" A chuckle, like you have told a very nice joke. She shakes her head, locks of hair bounce over her shoulders. "No. That is not the game we are playing. We are playing a game of conversation. Not a debate, not an argument. There does not have to be a winner and a loser." YOU HAVE REACHED THE END OF THE PROJECT SO FAR! If you're interested in seeing my other projects, feel free to visit https://noriben.carrd.co/!

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:white)) THIS IS WHERE SHE FUCKING KILLS YOU And finally, as you clutch the last string of your consciousness, attempting to no avail to climb back up... [[It all goes dark.->it all goes dark.]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:white)) She pleads with you, on her knees in the grass, gentle hands spread out toward you. "I promise that you won't miss it, please, but I need your permission. May I have your heart?" As your hand goes to your chest, instinctual, hers does too, landing over yours like the two of you are bound in prayer. "You won't miss it. It wants out. It wants out. Can I have it?" Can she have it? (force-input-box:"=XX=","Yes, take my heart. It is a burden.") [[Make your choice.]]

Double-click this passage to edit it. [[Murder on the Orient express]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:white)) She unfolds her hands, gentle, as though something living rests within them. You peek into her palms. On them is a set of miniature bleachers, as you would see at a college stadium, neat rows of benches reaching upward. And on them, kicking little feet and with beady little eyes, are the people whom you know. People whose only common thread is that you have existed in their vicinity more than once. They're lifelike in a way that makes you want to crush them under your heel, chest filled with an uncanny sort of horror. They stare up at you like they expect a show, of some kind. She allows you to take them in for a couple seconds, before folding her hands again. Next, she claps them in delight, and you jolt. Perhaps a part of you fears she has killed them, but you know in your head they could not ever have been //real//. Her eyes shine with giddy delight.