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At world end, do we stand with the sun? Or are we but entombed... in the tunnels? |
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In moist black, the two figures stepped through the mossy forest. Sunshine shooting through the canopy like hopeless stars of light, guiding their path through the wet, odd place. The forest had grown up overnight it seems, and now a castle rested behind them. The two didn’t know how this could be, before there had been a little town and a road, but now it was a forest and a castle. It was strange, but the two continued on. They were good friends, but more associates, more business then friends. The castle behind them rose like a solid stone giant, and in its isolation it said and asked for nothing. It just stood there for all the world to see, upon a large cliff as if ready to jump, to end it’s short-lived life in one smashing killing blow of suicide. “Was it bliss to press it?” Said the man. “I don’t know,” Said the other, his voice filled with worry. “I’m not sure if I should had done it. When if something happens? When if it backfires? I mean this place, what is this place? Is it from what I’ve done?” “Calm down,” Laughed the man. “You worry more then a paranoid mother.” “How can I not?” Said the other, very seriously. “Charles, this could do who knows what to the world! And here you are laughing at it.” “Trust me,” Charles replied. “This is but a garden of the Eden to come.” “Eden’s always failed Charles,” Spoke the other as they continued to walk. They traveled through the strange forest in silence for a while, passing muscular and healthy animals along the way, and through healthy birches and redwoods. The entire place was alive, screaming out its existence with a universal yell. All the colors were like vivid bombs blasting in a canvas of white or an ocean of black. The greens, were the epitome of greens, and so on. Soon the woods became thicker and thicker, until not even the falling starlight of a now forgotten sun could be seen. Instead, a blue light illuminated the place. Making things eerie. Unearthly. The two jumped from a small hill made of moss, landing in the small field of misshapen mushrooms and plants. On the other side of this hill, they saw buried in the moss like a dead soldier, a cave to behold, a gaping maw of a darker blackness. In it laid the contents of a life not yet lived, in it was a wonder that could only mystify. It was small but the two men could fit through easily, they were yet slender and thin and fit, young not old. They had all their lives ahead of them. “Let’s go in there,” Charles said. “What?” The other replied. “Are you insane? I’m not going in there.” “Come on Dan,” Charles pleaded. “Fine,” Dan sighed. The two got on their knees and began to crawl through the hole. In the process Dan could hear a song echoing through the hole. A masquerade of a beautiful monstrosity, it was his mind he told himself. That he had dreamed up the song, that he had done it all. “We live in the tunnels, we live in the tunnels,” He could hear his mind sing. He’d created it all. He was the God of this insanity. He was the creator. They had gone deep, and now black surrounded them. There was no more light, not even the blue illumination of the unearthly forest. Charles took a flashlight out, making sound as he rummaged through his pockets finding the object of desire. “Ready to see how this place looks like?” Charles smiled. “I’d imagine it’ll look as wet as how it feels,” Dan replied. “Moss must be everywhere here.” “Probably,” Charles said. He turned it on, and to his horror it was not green that he saw. It was not moss breathing in the darkness, but the slippery flesh of an artery. The artery bled blood from its walls, and it had covered them all in its red glory. It began to pulsate, as if it was a beast and now it had been awaken. The light of a flashlight to spell the adventurers doom, as they screamed and were pushed forward. A hole appeared to the two men and they fell down it, knives flinging at them as they fell and fell. Blood covered them and now acid shot from the pores of the vile flesh. A scream, a blood curdle cry, and Dan’s whimper could be heard echoing like a poor siren’s song. “Inside you’ll die,” Came a childishly sweet voice. “Inside you’ll cry. We live in the tunnels, and we are the ones with knives, we live in the tunnels, you’re not a cat with nine lives. We live in the tunnels, we’ll make you bleed, we live in the tunnels, you should’ve heed.” “No!” Screamed Dan. “I’m sorry!” “We live in the tunnels,” Came the horrible chant of a twisted innocence. Dan couldn’t speak, the artery closing around him like a loving mother, her hugs suffocating her child to death and doom. To death and doom for all he had done. For all he had done. |
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