The Walk
A story of paths and possibilities
1.
Black. Bleak. The hut sits on the bluff. You enter, uncaring for its decay, its carrion scent. She is sick, and you are out of options except for this one absurdist Hail Mary.
The old man makes you sit, makes you close your eyes. He strikes a match. Foul smoke fills your nostrils. You cough. You choke. You open your eyes.
You are elsewhere.
A black moor. Night. Starless. Dark water laps.
There is a path back, the old man’s voice says, but you must walk it.
Walk, go to 2
Wait, go to 3
Rail against this, go to 4
2.
You trudge. Mud cloys. You sink. You fight on. The bog is endless.
Continue, go to 5
Give up, go to 3
3.
Water fills your boots. Soaks into your pants. You are up to your waist. Your chest. Your shoulders. Oblivion croons.
Reject this, go to 6
Embrace oblivion, go to 7
4.
What is this? You scream.
Silence.
I just want to make her well!
Silence.
I have to make her well. Quieter now.
Silence.
Demand answers, go to 10
Give up, go to 3
5.
Blind, belligerent belief. Or perhaps absurd desperation. Or perhaps only the hollow solace of believing that as long as you are doing something, you are making progress.
And so, on and on and on. Your strength sapping. You are on your knees.
On and on and on. You crawl.
And then-
Only more bog. Only unending toil.
Push on, go to 13
Give up, go to 7
6.
You struggle. You flail. But you have waited too long. The bog is greedy. Down you go into its gullet.
Still you fight. You claw at mud.
You feel something beneath your fingertips. Slick. Slithering. Uncanny.
Grasp it, go to 9
Release it, go to 7
7.
Down. Into darkness. The bog embraces you, fills you, invades you. You struggle for air. You struggle in vain. You die. It is not an ending.
Go to 8
8.
You open your eyes. You gasp. The air is cold as a knife blade. You look around.
A black moor. Night. Starless. Dark water laps.
You have been here before.
There is a path back, the old man’s voice says, but you must walk it.
Walk, go to 2
Wait, go to 14
Rail against this, go to 4
9.
You seize the slithering thing. It convulses, a muscular shrug that drags you forward. Mud fills your nostrils, your mouth.
And then up. Then out. A great eel dragging you free. You lie there gasping. It slithers away.
Eventually you pick yourself up. You must go on.
Go to 5
10.
Answer me! Screamed at the night.
Silence.
And yet not just silence. A light breaks. A silver sliver. The moon rising. Vast, bright, brilliant.
Go on, illuminated, go to 11
Shield your eyes, go to 12
11.
It is easier like this. It is worse. You can see everything. You see what lies in the water. They can see you. All of you. All the parts you try to hide.
Repent, go to 19.
Flee, go to 20.
12.
It is too much. Too blinding. You are too exposed. You are too aware of all the things that have lurked just out of sight.
You run. They pursue.
Hide, go to 15
Flee further, go 16
13.
On. And on. And on. You are a living refusal. You are absurd persistence. You are hope that cannot be eroded. On and on and on, beyond what is unbearable. Because you must bear it. Because she waits at the far side.
You come to a lake. You do not have the strength to swim it, but you do.
You come to a mountain. You do not have the strength to climb it, but you do.
You come to a dessert. You do not have the strength cross it, but you do.
A choice has been made. The old man’s voice is warm. This will not end, but neither will she. You bear her burden.
On. And on. And on.
An ending.
14.
Down. Down without resistance. The mud embraces you like a lover. Like she did.
A choice has been made. The old man’s voice is warm. You will be waiting for her, when she comes.
Mud fills you. You don’t resist.
An ending.
15.
The bog is featureless. All you can do is wait in the water. Hope they pass. They do not.
You sink. The water closes over you.
Break free, go to 17
Sink, go to 7
16.
On and on and on. Because there is only that.
Or is there?
Turn and fight, go to 18
Continue running, go to 13
17.
You burst out. Your pursuers, snarl, rally, pounce.
You run.
Go to 16
18.
You turn, defiant. Your pursuers close. They bite. They tear. They claw. So do you. Ferocious. Furious. Desperate. What differentiates you? Which of you lies bloody and dying on the ground?
A choice has been made. The old man’s voice is warm. A life for a life. Yours for hers. This is your gift.
Jaws close around your neck.
An ending.
19.
You admit it. You pour it out of yourself. Resentment. Exhaustion. Betrayal. It lies at your feet, steaming.
A choice has been made. The old man’s voice is warm. She shall continue, but she will know all this.
All you can do is live with your choices.
An ending.
20.
You hunt for shadows. A place to hide. To keep your secrets. Your betrayals.
This is not a choice. The old man’s voice is cold. This is not a way out.
The moon turns its back on you. In the dark, you fall. Oblivion grasps you.
Go to 8
Thank you for reading Something’s a Little Off. If you’re interested in sampling a few other stories, and reading an excerpt of my upcoming novella, why not check out the sampler linked to here.