(Untitled)

[ashtreelane]

Here, there is no light.

Here, there is no color to the walls or floor: just a uniform, ashy black.

Here, there is nothing -- no proof of what has come before, no prediction of what may come after.

There's only the darkness, the cold, and the long hallway stretching ahead.

Comments

[grimy_brian]

So where there were people there's space. And where there was space there's all this - like - wall. Ashy black house wall, nothing like the outside of school playgrounds, nothing like that bit down behind the Manor he said they'd never get caught but something -

It's 3 o'clock, and we ask ourselves
'where are we now?'

- something about the weird expectant feeling in his stomach is kind of familiar and kind of... like he's gonna get caught at something.

'it seems we've wondered out of bounds again'

And getting caught at something was never worth it if - if it wasn't Them, if it wasn't -

"...Adam?"

[ashtreelane]

The word hangs in the air, shivering
down
the
length
of
the
hall.

Nobody answers.

[grimy_brian]

One hand on the wall.

One hand on the wall and one reaching up to clench around the edge of a Hat 'cos that way nothing can -

the wall shouldn't be this reassuring 'cos it's dark and he's got no clue where he is and there's no one here (it's not unfamiliar) and the echoes kinda freak him out but he starts walking anyway.

It's cool and dark like underground and that's never been his - underground is good. Underground and ash-black and no splintered wood and no endless stairs down and no -

Something far away, something deep in the (how can a) house (be this big?) rumbles.

(Sounds like the

c   r   e   a   k

of the attic trapdoor)

Brian  slows   to    a     halt.

[ashtreelane]

my shadow pinned against a sweating wall

There is nothing here but him.

That place among the rocks--is it a cave,

Nothing at all.

Or winding path? The edge is what I have.

[grimy_brian]

Which... okay. Okay. All is good and all is right with the world and maybe he just needs to quit with the wacky baccy, right?
Deep inside
I'm on my own and I can't see straight
It's not so bad. It's not so bad when it's quiet, 'cos he's not so weirded out by being alone any more. Kinda faded as he got older, kinda faded as the whole Them thing faded, kinda faded.

Dark, though.
deep inside
am I so stoned that I can't see straight?

Which he can deal with. He can deal with this. He doesn't need anyone else to deal with it for him because that is not how the real world works, Brian.

Which means, maybe, he should start walking.
Man, I've got to find my way back home
but I'm too deep inside

[ashtreelane]

Sure. Start walking.

that's not the way out

Pick a direction.

[grimy_brian]

Brian starts walking.

Stops again.

Takes a second to rummage through his pockets.

One (1) bouncy ball
One (1) fluorescent pink figure of Polo, warrior lord of the Universe
One (1) snickers bar
Half (1/2) pack of chewing gum
One (1) tippex pen, pretty crudded up
One (1) conker
Seven (7) rizlas, one small pouch of baccy, and one smaller pouch of - yeah.

(It's tempting. It's hugely tempting. But there're more important things, right now.)

Brian takes the tippex pen and draws an arrow on the wall.

Starts walking.

[ashtreelane]

Ahead of him, the hallway stretches out interminably.

home, child o mine
the man walkin home

.ylbanimretni tuo sehcterts yawllah eht ,mih dniheB

[grimy_brian]

The echoes

don't quite

work right, here.

Brian stops whistling 'pink elephants on parade' pretty damned quickly.

He thinks about maybe taking his fingers away from the wall - they're starting to ache with the cold - but you don't do that. Don't lose your way in the labyrinth, don't look back.

[ashtreelane]

And does the wall
r
  i
    p
  p
l
  e

slightly under his hand, just for a moment, like the twitching hide of some huge

(elephant)

beast?

[grimy_brian]

"Oh, shit."

And Brian's voice is kinda distressed, and kinda sickly amused, and kinda scared somewhere in there, too.

(Doesn't take his hand away from the wall.)

[ashtreelane]

It's so cold.

[grimy_brian]

Brian folds his hands up inside his hoodie. The cold bleeds through the material but he feels a lot less like he's gonna lose a part of himself.

(
He takes a look back, along the

l
o
n
g

c
o
r
r
i
d
o
r

and can't see the faint glint of white anywhere. Maybe. Maybe he's been walking longer than he thought, maybe. Must be. He remembers drawing, remembers it, memory fresh and clean in his head and Adam's not here
)

He gets out the tippex again, draws another arrow on the wall. Lines not so straight, this time.

(his hands are cold)

[ashtreelane]

a
             r
T h e          r
            o
        w

isn't there anymore, when he glances back.

[grimy_brian]

"Oh."

Smaller voice.

Younger.

He's. He's 'most certain he drew an arrow. But maybe he - stands to reason arrows don't just disappear when they choose. Maybe he -

("But it seems to me everyone's goin' to be a lot happier if they forget about this. Not actually forget, just not remember exactly.")

"Shit."

[ashtreelane]

The echo comes back blurred, diminished:

"Shht."

"shh."
"shh."