You live on planet Earth. This whole planet is your world, your universe. You know there is more out there, beyond the soft blue of the sky, but you have only ever seen it from pictures, haven't you? Yet you believe - you //know//.
Who are you to say that there isn't life on Mars? That there is no such thing as haunted houses?
If reality is defined by what you see and don't see, you yourself are not real to those who haven't seen you. A ghost tied to this earth, wandering the empty streets.
[[What, then, //is// real? ->beginning]]It is a stormy night as you walk home from work, class, wherever it was that you spent the day. You had checked the forecast this morning as you usually do, but it had predicted only clear skies.
//It is only a prediction after all//, you tell yourself. [[//It's impossible to be able to see the future completely accurately.// ->outfit]]Your clothes are quickly drenched in the downpour, as you had neglected to bring an umbrella.
It is summertime and the air is hot, sticking to your skin like coagulated blood, but somehow the rain still makes you shiver.[[ You need to get home. ->which way?]]You don't notice you hadn't been paying attention to your surroundings until you look up.
The street is one you aren't sure you recognize or not. Everything looks the same in the dark, the neon of the streetlights warping in puddles on the road.
You turn around and make a move to go back the way you came, but even then you don't know if the previous street had been the correct one, or the one before that. [[How long have you been going in the wrong direction? -> next]] You never get lost. Your first thought is to get directions up on your phone, and you reach into your purse, feeling around for the comforting sleekness.
However, you're met with only a sinking feeling as you dig deeper into its contents and find nothing. You scramble around, checking and double checking your pockets until you're forced to come to terms with the fact that you don't have it with you.
The common sense that has been drilled into your head since you were very young advises you to stay put until someone finds you.
Do you listen to it?
[[Yes -> yes]] [[No ->no]]You force your breathing to even out and plant your feet as firmly as you can to the spot. You would sit down but feel as though, in its passivity, that would be accepting defeat.
The streets are dead at this time of night. Small town businesses have always closed too early for your liking. It's part of the reason why you want to move to the city. [[It's always alive, always breathing. -> city and stars]]Your nerves override any common sense you have. Or maybe it's that something seems to be pulling you away from it. You find yourself presented with two choices:
[[go back the way you came -> left]] or [[walk further down the road -> right]] ?
<img src="https://cdn.eso.org/images/screen/eso1132e.jpg" alt="starry night" style="width:600px;height:400px;">
But you would miss the stars. You've only ever been able to identify the Dippers, but you know the art is there, even if you don't see it. And beyond those pinpricks of light, [[who knows? ->end 1]]You decide to walk just across the street and find yourself staring at your reflection in the darkened window of a closed storefront.
You take a moment, lost in the feeling of this liminial space between worlds. [[No people, no sound, save for the falling rain. -> car]]
<img src="https://img1.goodfon.com/wallpaper/nbig/b/87/rain-town-street-night.jpg" style="width:600px;height:400px;">
The driver is clearly annoyed, and a little bit surprised, at your suddenness, but agrees to drive you home. They wave off your offer to pay for the gas, saying that it would be a bit much to give to them.
"How far away are we?" you ask them, the nervousness of being alone starting to rise up again from your stomach.
They type in the address on the GPS, mount it onto the dashboard, and respond, "At least three hours. I guess we're lucky, though. It would normally take four with all the daytime traffic."
The drive passes in silence, the radio cutting from station to station, words from each one cutting each other off and blending together to create a garbled, unintelligible mess. You spend the time looking out the window, and can't help but feel you missed out on something, back on that dark, lonely street.
''END''You're scared. It takes a certain amount of bravery to be able to admit this.
Your body won't let you stay still any longer, so you head to the left down the sidewalk, back the way you came, the rain leaving tear streaks down your face.
After a couple miles of walking, your exhausted legs carry you to a run down, wooden building. It looks like the kind that delinquents would vandalize and take drugs in, but the faint, flickering light that emanates from the broken windows sparks your curiosity.
[[A crow flaps its wings and you look up. -> cross]] You turn to the right and start walking. Part of you knows you aren't thinking entirely clearly. The path only gets darker from here.
Eventually, you come to a point where you have passed all of the storefronts. The scenery around you becomes markedly more foresty, as if you had walked thousands of miles to the middle of nowhere. You now stand in front of a dirt driveway that leads deeper into the night.
[[Press on -> press on]]<img src="https://abbyl.neocities.org/roses.jpeg" alt="roses" style="width:800px;height:250px;">
The beginning of the driveway is lined with night black roses that shine with an otherworldly glow. You make out the slightest hue of red in them, as though a single drop of blood had been used to color them.
You're drawn to them the same way you were as a child looking over the edge of a seaside cliff, down at the crashing water and sharpened rocks.
[[Prick your finger -> bloody roses]]The pain of the thorn breaking skin is comparable to that of a flu shot - one small burst of initial pain that lasts for less than a second.
Strangely, though, you notice that the blood welling up from your finger isn't stopping. As you walk past the rose bushes and down the driveway, into the dark trees, [[you leave a path of crimson droplets behind you. -> blood]] <img src="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2019/06/15/13/09/night-4275565_960_720.jpg" alt="abandoned church" style="width:600px;height:400px;">
The building must be a church. You notice for the first time (though surely you must have passed it before) the cross atop the caving in roof. Even from this distance, the difference in maintenence is clear - the planks making up the cross have recently been repainted, reinforced with new nails, as it stands tall and proud. But the shingles on the roof are peeling back like scabs, the ground below littered with the ones that had fallen off.
[[You cautiously open the door, rusty hinges creaking. -> inside church]]Almost as soon as you even touch the door, whoever is in the inside exclaims wildly, "Who's there?"
His voice is gravely, but raised like that it's almost comical to you. It doesn't sound like it is meant to reach that high of a tone.
You're not sure what to say, so you continue to open the door and step into the building to present yourself to the stranger.
He is dressed all in black, holding a candle out in front of him on a metal holder. His face is as panicked as his voice, and the flame shakes in his hand. He quickly holds up a wrinkled hand, signaling you to stop where you are.
[["Who are you?" -> strange man]]You both ask the question at the same time. The man makes the sign of the cross over his chest and sighs, the gesture a nervous one.
"If you were what I had initially thought you were, you wouldn't be acting so timid and cautious. Probably would have torn that door right off its hinges."
He sees your confused look and asks, "You saw the cross?"
You nod, still very confused, and he looks to the ceiling, as if he can see through the rotten beams to the cross-shaped beacon on the outside. His expression turns sad as he says, "I'm finding that it doesn't do much good... [[This God I have always had so much faith in." -> God]]The depth of his gaze deepens, dark eyes looking past the wooden emblem and into the sky beyond. His bottom lip quivers.
"I did so much... For someone that was never even there to begin with."
You're really not sure what to say. What //is// there to say in a moment like this?
So you decide to leave. [[The man doesn't budge, just stands as still and hopeless as the wooden cross that sits atop the roof. -> failure of religion]]You are alone on the empty street again. The man reminded you of something.
When your grandmother had been very sick, on the verge of death, even her closest friends had more faith in prayers and best wishes than in medicine. They scorned the use of something that could have saved her.
You are not a religious person, but knowing you are alone in this world still scares you.
''END''<img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RpskAzstUwY/VopynfNQVgI/AAAAAAAAHW0/iJZVeeHVG_8/s1600/allerdale-at-night.jpg" alt="gothic castle" style="width:800px;height:400px;">
A castle looms in the distance at the end of the driveway. On either side of the doors, a few yards from the entrance, is a pair of wrought iron gates. Dark red roses writhe between the bars. No one seems to be home; all of the windows are dark.
[[Approach -> castle]]You approach the door. A heavy brass knocker hangs from the sturdy wood. The building lights up, windows and lamps and candles suddenly flaring to life.
You jump back. Someone, or something, might be coming to greet you. Your first instinct is to...
[[Run and hide -> run/hide]] [[Freeze in place -> freeze]]The doorknob turns. You run as fast as you can. All you're thinking about is getting away. Away. Away.
Your heartbeat hammers in your chest as you throw yourself behind the iron gate, the particularly large clump of roses hopefully shielding you from the sight of the creature at the door.
[[Look back -> look]]A dark figure dressed all in black appears in the doorway. They appear to be too tall for the frame; the farthest up you can see is their slim shoulders.
You instinctively take a step back as they duck under to meet you outside. Your finger is still dripping blood and when you look down, you realize that the front of your shirt is stained with dark red splotches.
The figure, too, now revealed to be wearing a long Victorian-styled coat and airy white undershirt, notices. Both of you are silent. A chilling breeze moves through your bones and rustles the stranger's long black hair.
[[Will you be the first to speak? -> meeting]]Making yourself as small as possible, you chance a look back at the door. Nothing is coming. The lights have been extinguished. It could be your nerves feeding your imagination, but you almost think you hear a laugh, low and amused.
A second later, a single light turns on on the other side of the door. The heavy wood soundlessly opens, moving in slow motion.
[[Venture inside -> inside castle]]You enter into a dimly lit foyer. A chandelier hangs overhead, but isn't the source of the light. You can see the dining hall straight ahead, where two wall sconces hang on either side, emitting a hazy glow that does little to penetrate the dusty air.
A candle flickers to life, the strongest yet, in the room to the left. [[You instinctively follow it. -> follow]]You are captivated by their eyes. The gold reminds you of the edges of flames as they eat up their kindling.
Their gaze is fixed on your wound, and a slight smile graces their handsome features. Their breath comes out louder between their clenched teeth for a moment before they run a slender-fingered hand through their hair, swiftly transforming their expression into a friendly one, smile now showing in their molten eyes and their upturned lips.
[["My, my, what's this?" -> bleeding]] they ask, as if only just then noticing you.
Movement to the side in the window reveals a car sliding by behind you. You whip around. [[You run up to it, waving your arms frantically. -> end 1 (2)]]<img src="https://st3.depositphotos.com/1000128/16907/i/600/depositphotos_169076818-stock-photo-downstairs-in-ancient-stone-tower.jpg" alt="basement stairs" style="width:750px;height:350px;">
The pattern continues - one candle light, one candle dark, until you come to a worn, brick staircase that winds down into the bowels of the castle. [[Where are you going? -> down]]As soon as you step into the room, the candle you had followed dies and another one flares in an adjacent room. [[You have nowhere else to go - why not follow it? -> basement]]The coarse stone scratches your fingertips as you go down further and further. The walls remind you of a tomb.
<i>Are you lost?</i> a voice says. You press your ear to the cold bricks and listen. You hear the familiar sounds of your mother rustling in the kitchen, plates being rearranged and pots and pans clinking together. If you hold still enough, you can smell the homecooked meal coming out of the oven.
[[<i> It's your favorite, isn't it?</i> -> push]]A force from behind pushes you against the wall. The cold is biting against your skin, but the wall is no longer solid, your body sinking into it like glue.
You fall through, the goop dropping you onto the carpet of your childhood bedroom. Your mother calls you for dinner, voice drifting down with the scent of hot food.
You look down at your finger. The wound is now a gash that runs along the length of the appendage. [[It bleeds into the carpet and floods the room like water filling up a container. -> favorite]]//It's your favorite, isn't it?// the voice echoes from two places at once. You look at the room, at the familiar clothes that have long since been donated, at the lace curtains and drawer of plastic toy horses.
//Yes, it is,// you think. You feel two sharp pinpricks in the skin of your neck. A wave of weakness washes over you, but the last thing you feel is happiness.
''END''Double-click this passage to edit it.
↶↷You live on planet Earth. This whole planet is your world, your universe. You know there is more out there, beyond the soft blue of the sky, but you have only ever seen it from pictures, haven't you? Yet you believe - you know.
Who are you to say that there isn't life on Mars? That there is no such thing as haunted houses?
If reality is defined by what you see and don't see, you yourself are not real to those who haven't seen you. A ghost tied to this earth, wandering the empty streets.
What, then, is real?