Fiction final

You stand at the edge of city made of desolate ruins, long overtaken by twisting tree roots. Crumbling, mighty skyscrapers peek barely above lush treetops of dense forest. The scuffed toes of your shoes point forwards, into the unknown. The birdsong is still familiar, at the edge of the forest that cuts you off from the rest of the world. You had a home, behind you, but you are determined to leave it behind. That's not home anymore. All that waits is a doom you cannot bear to face. You've been at the edge of these woods a thousand times, wanting to run, but you never could. This time will be different. This time you'll leave- for real. But even still, maybe it's better to just give in. At least you would know what's coming to you. [[Go back to what awaits you]] [[Step forward into the unknown]]

<audio controls> <source src="https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/883171828720369674/1103749743361933413/kitchenradio1.mp3" type="audio/mpeg"> Your browser does not support the audio element. </audio> Who are you kidding? You know full well you can never leave. You've been trapped here, in the one little haven in the center of these ruins for God knows how long. It's all you've ever known, and it's all you ever will. You probably wouldn't survive out there anyway. You take the familar walk of shame back to your home, the rusty hinges on the heavy old door echoing through the hall, alerting the rest of the house of your arrival. The radio- the ever playing radio that's been too staticky to properly hear the music for years now, is the only noise that greets you. Perhaps no one is home. That noise bothers you, haunting you endlessly. They refuse to get rid of the radio. They can't be alone with their thoughts. That's okay, neither can you. But you've learned to appreciate the silence every once in a while. Where do you go? [[The Living Room|dl]] [[Your Room|db]]

A deep breath. A choice made. You take your first step into the unfamiliar forest outside of the only home you've ever known. The weather is nice, the shade from the old growth trees cooling down a day that was otherwise sitting just on the very edge of a bit too hot for your tastes. At your feet are on the remains of what you think was once a path, but nobody has gone this way for many, many years, so entropy did as entropy does, and the overgrowth has slowly crept its way over the dirt, making the path unclear, but still readable, if you look hard enough. It might be your best bet for finding... somewhere else, someone else, but who knows if the place where it once led is still standing? Maybe you're better off trying to make your own way. [[Follow the path]] [[ Forge your own way]]

You step into the living room, crusty old leather couch standing stalwart among the dust and debris. You try to keep your eyes away from the things you never wanted to see, the things you were never meant to see, but they never learned how to hide things from you. [[Investigate the knick-knacks on the shelf]] [[Sit down]]

You wander into your bedroom, the only respite you've ever had in this suffocating outpost. You close the door behind you. You pick your way through the piles of clothes on the floor, settling on the warped mattress. the broken old bedframe creaks under your weight. The nightstand, and old dresser you found half broken near a dumpster and repurposed, is cluttered. There are a few mugs and glasses, filled with various half drank beverages and concoctions staring back at you. Do you drink? [[Drink the inky black bubbling liquid]] [[Drink the transparent tan liquid]] [[Drink the opaque, milky brown liquid]] [[Drink nothing and do something else]]

You approach the old shelves, full of objects from when things were different, before the small enclave of life you call home was surrounded by nothing but ruins. Artifacts retrieved from the undergrowth on the edges of town. What do you look at? [[The old tree made of copper wire]] [[The agate]] [[The stamp]]

You flop down on the worn old couch, staring out the window at the forest beyond. These moments that you get to yourself are nice. A fluffy mass of dust and hair hops at your feet, begging for food. You give her a few pumpkin seeds from the dish on the table. ''Of course you stay. There is still life here. You are still life here.'' End.

You inspect it, all the small little ornaments on copper wire branches. This was made by hands much more skilled than yours. You've always admired it. A shadow floats into the living room, you didn't realize they were home. They see you staring at the wire tree, and produce some more wire out of thin air. A peace offering. You sit with the shadow, twisting copper wire into branches, into a replica of a tree you climbed a long time ago. As the shadow shows you how to do it, you swear you see the faintest glimpse of a hand in the darkness. ''Maybe this isn't such a lost cause after all. If you can do this, maybe things will be better.'' End.

It burns going down your throat, turning you into shadow from the inside out. Is there really no escpaing this doom that you've been running from for so long? Were the shadows once people like you, yearning to be something different? ''You always told yourself you wouldn't be a shadow. You always knew that was a lie.'' End.

You down the cup all in one go. The sugar and milk only barely mask the bitterness. It's the stuff that comes in the red drum. It tastes like cigarette ash. But it does its job, for now. You have slightly more energy. Enough to accomplish one task. What will you do with this small blessing? [[Clean. God, you need to clean.]] [[ Find the energy to leave again.]]

You approach the old bookshelf on the other side of the room. You used to read more. It was easier to immerse yourself in a book than face the encroaching darkness of the isolated outpost. You grab a book off of the shelf, an old classic, worn and missing a cover. You sit down on the floor, among the piles of discarded fabric, and read. The shadows pass by your room, but leave you be. The kitchen radio never stops, but you can ignore it for now. ''You'll ignore it until the shadows fade into nothing. You will survive, and nothing more.'' End.

You down it, holding back a gag. It tastes like tar and fountain pen ink, a hint of sugar doing nothing but worsening the sickening concoction. But as soon as the last drop rushes down your throat, you are transported. You don't have to be yourself anymore. you don't have to be here. There are a thousand lives to live, and a thousand places to explore. What will you do? [[Be yourself but different]] [[Go on an adventure|Untitled Passage]]

You don't know where to start, so you just start putting things in places where you think they might go. The whole place reeks of misery in a way you can't clean on one cup of coffee. Maybe you should open a window. Yeah, you'll open a window. The fresh air feels nice. ''You don't know how long you'll be able to chase the shadows away.'' End.

Maybe that was what you needed to find the strength to leave. Maybe you'll really do it this time. Luckily, you are spared the hassle of packing your meagre essentialls a second time, embarking out the back door just as the sputtering beast crawls to a stop in front of the building. Damnit. [[Run.]] [[Confront.]] [[Give up.]]

You are tired- but you will not give up. The shadows seem to be in low spirits. The larger one buzzing with energy, crackling voice like a blown out microphone. They ask why you're standing there, holding your things. What do you want to tell them? [[Tell them you refuse to be like them.]] [[Tell them you can't take it anymore.]]

No. You will not let the shadows close in again. you bolt down the stairs, legs already protesting from so long- you've never been a runner- ignoring the confused wails from the shadows as you pass them by. They pursue you briefly, but they could never catch up to you. You run, again, to the edge of the forest. No turning back now. [[Step forward into the unknown]]

You don't want a conflict. You'll probably get one anyway, but best to avoid one if you can. You surrender, watching the shadows peel themselves away and move towards the outpost. Up the stairs they come. You feel the way your throat closes up as they approach. Its always harder to breathe with the dense, shadowy fog around. You go inside as they do, wearily throwing your things on the floor of the bedroom. The radio is still on. The radio will always be on. You lean against the wall, but-- how peculiar, your shoulder makes it a few inches into the cracked paint and punched-through drywall before it stops. That's when you notice, heart stopping at the realization-- you've started to become a shadow yourself. ''It's too late for you now. '' End.

What does it matter what you tell them? It's all the same anyway. You scream until theres more static than air in your lungs, and they still don't understand. How can a shadow understand what it's like to want to live? You go to bed angry, red hot fire pouring down your face, setting everything ablaze, but the shadows don't leave. It's fine. You'll extinguish in the morning and it will be like nothing ever happened. You'll do this again a million times, until theres nothing left of you but shadow. ''There is no escaping what you are.'' End.

In the mirror staring back at you is somebody you could have been. Her hair is long and she's everything everyone thought you would be. Her home is nice and clean. Sunlight streams in through the windows of her office as children laugh in the backyard. She's important, somehow. She made all the difference you never had the strength to. You can never be her, except when you're drifting. ''You guess that will have to be enough for you.'' End.

Despite its obscurity from years of disuse, you manage to follow the path well enough. As you walk, you have plenty of time to be alone with your thoughts. You wonder when this was made, who used to walk upon this earth long before you. You know that your outpost used to trade with people, before they sealed themselves off from the rest of the world. After a while of walking, you find a house, out here in the woods. It's modest, dilapidated picket fence leading to set of stairs. Nobody has lived here in a long, long time. There are morning glories crawling up the siding. [[Could this be home?]]

You traipse off the old path, figuring the route left unexplored must bear more fruitful than the ones before it. You're not here to remember. You're here to explore. To find something new. Maybe you'll have some fun along the way. Before long, you come to clearing. There is a pool of water, and some berry bushes. [[Eat]] [[Drink]] [[Swim]] [[Move On]]

You open the door, with some difficulty from the rusted out lock. There is a lot of love in this home, you feel it immediately. A child's toys are strewn about the carpet. There's baseball memorabilia on the walls. Explore: [[The Kitchen | H1K]] [[The Basement | H1B]] [[The Backyard | H1BY]]

A nice kitchen, full af books and gadgets. Whoever lived here loved this kitchen. Sunlight streams in through the window, dust filtering through like the static from an old photograph. You can almost picture the photo in your mind: Bad lighting, grainy. A small child sits on a stool, grinnning wildly for a photo. [[Yes, this could be home.|h1y]] [[But this isn't home. Not yours. Not anymore. | H1N]]

A small basement. A crib sits in the corner, long unused. A blanket and rattle stare up back at you. You notice that theres some cat hairs on the blanket. Cat hairs in a crib? You can't help but imagine how cute that must have been, a calico cat curled up next to a little baby, both small and warm, sleeping the night away. [[Yes, this could be home.|h1y]] [[But this isn't home. Not yours. Not anymore. | H1N]]

There is a pool in the backyward, long empty. More morning glories creep up trellises here, long since having taken over and spilled into the pool. There is a child's playset, all old wood and cheap plastic. A rope dog toy rests discolored in a tree. For a moment, you feel as though you hear a child's laughter, see bouncy curls dancing around the abandoned pool. things were good here. [[Yes, this could be home.|h1y]] [[But this isn't home. Not yours. Not anymore. | H1N]]

You settle here, in this well loved house where everything felt good and there was nothing to worry about. Never questioning, never feeling the need to leave. You grow old here, Staring out of the window as the years pass you by. You never grew, never really got to explore. Maybe you're okay with that. ''Maybe you should have wanted more. '' End.

That may have been a suitable home for you, long ago, but you're different now. You can't settle. You keep walking along the path, listening to the wildlife along the way. You get distracted, following a line in the path that you're pretty sure was made by a snake, that you don't notice the trailer until you're almost on top of it. [[Could this be home?|h2]]

A small, homey trailer. There are some bedrooms off to the side. the television in the living room is playing a movie, a macabre stop motion. Theres a half-emptied easter basket in the corner. There is a palpable uncertainty in the air. Explore: [[The Grove|h2g]] [[The Bedroom|h2b]]

You wander into the grove of trees, just beyind the back of the trailer. It's a circle, protecting you from the sweltering sun. The trees are all decently old, towering above your head. Upon closer inspection, you find some initials carved into one of the trees. Your initials, or at least, what used to be your initials, a long time ago. The warm breeze moves past your face, carrying with it the slightest hints of the beginning of a childish southern drawl. Of a family that's long since faded into memories of memories. [[Yeah. This could be home.|h2y]] [[But this isn't home. Not for you.|h2n]]

A child's bedroom. The glass on the window is kicked out, shards littered all over the bed and the floor. There is a princess TV, one of those clunky old big ones, in the corner, playing a scratched up old movie. Not a lot of time was spent here, the child that lived within these walls always being shipped off somewhere else to be watched. [[Yeah. This could be home.|h2y]] [[But this isn't home. Not for you.|h2n]]

You make your home in this old trailer, in these woods, enjoying the feeling of the hot sun on your skin and the muddy river in your hair. You learn to live with the bugs and the snakes. Everything feels like a fever dream, a high you never stop chasing. You never look back. ''You never have to look back. '' End.

You can't stay in this place long. You throat is closing from worry. Eveything feels wrong, like this place is meant for a you that never existed in the first place. You have to get out of here. You have to keep going. You return to the path, and you keep walking. And walking. You've almost given up on finding somewhere again, when an apartment building comes into your view. The door is red, with a stained glass window. Plants grow all along up and down the sides. [[Could this be home?|h3]]

You only manage to get one apartment open, one of the ones on the top floor. Things seem so much clearer here, like there isn't some fuzzy vagueness about the whole thing. An ashtray sits in the living room. Knicknacks fill the shelves. You recognize this place. It's where you came from. But this is not the place that you're running from. Explore: [[The Office|h3o]] [[The Garden|h3g]] [[The Bedroom|h3b]]

A desk and some miscellaneous chests sit around the small room, all vastly different colors from each other. An old computer sitts, whirring away, but there is no internet connection to be found, just a stack of old movies and some pre-installed games all it seems to be able to access. And an architecture program. Many hours were spent here, sticky hands glued to the mouse and sleepy eyes glued to the screen, mmostly forgotten. [[This feels like it's home.|h3y]] [[Even this can't be home. It //can't// be, not after how hard you tried.|h3n]]

A small garden in the back of the building. There are vegetables growing, and herbs, tomatoes and rosemary. A hedge of lilacs stands right off to the side, separating this bacyard from the next. A pair of shears is in a holder on the side of the building, You grab them, snipping off a piece of garlic chive. Maybe you'll use it for dinner tonight. [[This feels like it's home.|h3y]] [[Even this can't be home. It //can't// be, not after how hard you tried.|h3n]]

A teenagers bedroom. Messy and full of collections. Drawings are taped to the ugly yellow walls. An unmade bed sits in the corner. A busted air conditioner chugs along, wheezing out its last few breaths of cool air to counteract the outside sun. A lot of time was spent in here, judging by the dip in the bed. You swear you can hear crying. This room hold a heavy sadness, reeks of misery. [[This feels like it's home.|h3y]] [[Even this can't be home. It //can't// be, not after how hard you tried.|h3n]]

You've found it. Home. You settle in to this small apartment, soaking in the sadness from eminating from the smoke covered walls. You stare up at the ceiling, listening to the ceiling fan wobble. Things stack up; days, objects, all finding less and less space within this home. But you're young forever, living with this weight on your shoulders. ''You guess you can be comfortable with this. '' End.

No. This place is so filled with misery and sadness it haunts you, fills your lungs with ash and water. You have to leave. You should have left a long time ago. You run out, finding your way back to the path. ''You don't know where you'll end up, but it has to be better than this.'' End.

You grab a handfull of berries off the bush and pop some in your mouth. They taste sweet, like they'd go good in a jam, or eaten off a tree on a warm summer afternoon. [[You feel sated.|Move On]]

You cup your hands and drink from the water, cold and fresh, like a creek fresh from a mountain. [[You feel refreshed|Move On]]

You take off the outer layers of your clothes and take a dip in the cool water. It's nice. You dip your head under the water, hair floating around you, before spotting movement below. You bob your head above water one more time before looking under you. A woman stares back up at you, beatiful and captivating. She offers a hand out to you. Do you take it? [[Yes]] [[No]]

You keep wandering. Next, you come upon a small cave. In front hangs some cobwebs and curtains of bone. A small fig tree stands just outside the entrance. [[Enter the cave]] [[Eat a fig]] [[Leave]]

You reach out your hand towards hers. She smiles, dragging you down with her. You are sure you're going to die. But when you finally give in to your fate, and take a breath, you find that you can breathe just fine, just like if you were above the water. The woman tells you that you have a home here. ''You're happy.'' End.

You shake your head, heading once again towards the surface, but before your head makes it above water, you feel something grabbing your ankle. It's the woman, who drags you to a watery grave. ''At least you went down somewhere else than there.'' End.

You enter the cave. It's dim, except for the fire that is clearly eminating from down the... hall? Against your better judgement, you go into the cave. There, to your shock, stands a vampire woman, baking some confection over the fire. She offers one to you. [[Take it]] [[Don't take it]]

You grab a fig off the tree and take a bite. Yummy. you wish it was in cookie form. Theres a warm breeze here. [[You are sated|Leave]]

You don't know where you'll find home, but it must be far, far beyind this forest. Until you find it, you'll keep walking. ''You'll be happy one day, you just know it.'' End.

It's delicious, surpsisingly. You and the vampire build a home together, here in this cave. Just the two of you against the world. It's lovely. ''You're happy.'' End.

Well, if you're not going to eat, she might as well. You are drained of blood and lifeforce. ''You guess there are worse ways to go.'' End.

The shiny crystal surface reflects your tired eye back at you. you remember you used to love rocks, of all kinds, picking them up off the ground wherever you found them. There are still a few crates full under your bed. You wonder when you stopped being that person, the one who loved things so passionately. ''You'll spend the rest of your life wishing you were someone you used to be. Maybe this is how you become a shadow.'' End.

The stamp is from an old relative, an ancestor who made their home here long before this was an outpost in a city of ruins, when there was still life and people in the homes surrounding. There is a long and complicated history behind your ancestors. You are the last one left. ''You stay because who else will save whats left of your history?'' End.