ASK ABOUT RYAN==>

YOU: You were saying something about Ryan, right? That he killed the Oracle?

Sketch: Hn. Yes.  I guess that's one less thing to worry about... Although it does mean this is the last chance to really defeat Apophis. With nobody left to choose the next six. Heh. I'll be dead by then though. 

Wren: You could have helped us, you know. You could have fought. 

Sketch: No. 

Wren: You could have! Maybe it would have taken you caring a little more, trying to improve yourself... But you could have! You... You could have just been what you're supposed to be. A father. A grandfather. This is on you.

Sketch frowns slightly, and then shakes his head.

Sketch: This door leads to the tunnel that goes to the portal room. Behind that, I imagine you might find Ryan.

Alex: We're looking for Apophis.

Sketch: The walkway in the void is where you'll find Him too. If He's not in our world by now.  Now... I imagine you were waiting to kill me? I've told you everything I'm going to tell you. Get it over with.

Wren picks up the hammer, and puts it up to his face. She looks at him, and you see that they look alike. You wonder how long Sketch suppressed what is clearly in him... If that's what made him so sick. Wren places the hammer in his hand. She turns to you. She looks very tired.

She looks back at Sketch.

Wren: I keep telling you, Grandpa. I'm not like you.

She gets up and walks to the door. You all follow, and Antimony whacks Sketch in the face with her cane once more, for the road. You are in another, identical tunnel, with an identical door at the end.

Tracy: Who designed this place? It is terrible.

You look at Wren. It looks like she is trying very hard not to have a panic attack. You grab her hand, and Antimony grabs the other. Alex looks surprisingly okay. Maybe you should check on her.

YOU: Alex, are you alright?

Alex: Huh. Yeah. I think... Maybe I finally reached a place where these things can't hurt me anymore. Maybe it's less... Surprising. 

Sam: Yeah, I hit that place a while ago. Dude... You're clones. Wow. 

Alex: I guess I'll always be kinda worried that I have some latent Sketchiness buried in me, but my mom turned out fine. Let's just look for Ryan and Apophis.

Wren stops.

Antimony: Honey, do you have something you need to talk about?

Wren: ... He wasn't lying about Ryan, was he. He... He betrayed us. And we're going to have to fight him.

Tracy: Probably, yes.

Wren: ...i think im gonna be sick.

YOU: Wren...

Wren: I trusted him. I... Thought he changed.

YOU: We all trusted him. And I think he did change, at least a little. Something is clearly wrong with him. We can find him and figure this all out. I think he will choose us. I... Hope he will choose us. 

Wren silently inputs the code. The door opens. It is the portal room. You all enter the room, and then the portal.

The void is still behind the portal, as well as the walkway, and the white portal at the end of it.

Apophis is gone. 

White squares are shooting clones into the void. Clones of everyone but Wren. They wear the white robes they've always worn, and they have jetpacks. They all look to be around sixteen, which is how old you were when Hastur first duplicated you, so that makes sense. 

There is a massive white vortex above you. It's blindingly bright, and it hurts to look at. Somehow, it is sucking the void itself into it. You assume Apophis escaped that way. That black dome you saw in the marsh must be a new void he's building for himself. The clones are also being sucked into it, screaming in terror and confusion. Mercifully, the walkway seems to have a distinct gravitational pull, so you are not being sucked up.

Sam: Okay, there's our mystery solved. But, uh, Ryan's in Garbage Narnia, probably, so... Should we go look for him?

Should you?

my friend Frogs read the previous few parts and now he's taken to calling Sketch Hawthorne "Century Egg." huh. he basically just sits around and does rifftrax on my writing. >:|

he also said that the terminal has become a femme-led shonen anime. that comparison pleases me.

~~

FIND RYAN==>

You look around at the strange scene around you, and decide that you want to look for Ryan.

YOU: I think we should. Yes.

Alex: Last time we went to Garbage Narnia, it was a few hours for us in there, and a few months in the real world. With Apophis breaking into our world, y'know, can we really afford to be in there for that long?

Huh. She brings up a good point. You scratch your head. Wren speaks up.

Wren: I think all six of us are needed to beat Apophis. I'm not sure, but I think that's how it works, anyway. We're all in this together, like it or not. And, uh, at least on my part.... It's currently definitely a "not."

Alex nods.

Alex: Hey, fair enough. I'm down for whatever. Just, you know, bringing it up.

Tracy raises their hand.

Tracy: This place we're entering... It's a pocket dimension or something, right?

Antimony: As far as we can tell. We left on good terms with the rulers, they will probably help us find Ryan!

YOU: I forgot that you have my memories up to that point.

Antimony: Yeah. It is a little blurry... but I remember pieces of it. 

You turn to enter the portal, when a figure bursts through the portal behind you. It's Sketch, unfortunately. He has a look of panic on his face. His head has a dark purple bruise on it, and you figure out why shortly after. 

Another figure follows him, dripping blue. A short, robed figure, with a cracked helmet. It's holding a hammer and swinging it madly. Oh.

YOU: Huh. I guess Hastur did not die.

Antimony: Huh.

Hastur: Hkk. Ding... Ding... Ding. Gkkeuss you're not... Hhh. Complete idiots.

Sketch: He was playing possum.

Hastur: Hhheard Skketch leave a... Few thingkks out... Likke hhhow his wife.... Didn't.... Hk.... Ekksakktly... Leave him.

Sketch has a look of utter terror on his face, which morphs very quickly into anger.

Sketch: Children. You mustn't listen to him. He lies for his own amusement.

Hastur: Hnnnot... Ekksakktly my style, Skketch. The truth... Is usually... Funnier. Besssidesss... I don't. Thinkk. This is the kkkinda physikkal trauma you shrugkk off...

He stops, panting slightly , and gestures with the hammer.

Hastur: What reason do I have left to lie?

He swings the hammer at Sketch, who falls to the ground, groaning in pain.

Tracy: Hold on. I can heal you, Hastur. There's no reason to be stupid.

Hastur: Hhh... Your powers... Workk on people. Besides... It'd be more fun to take all of you down with me.... Yeah... Kkill the hhhh... Whole wide world along with myself.

He stops, pausing as if dramatically pondering the idea.

Hastur: Yeahhh... That's the tikkket. 

He leaps forward with inhuman strength, swinging the hammer. Your seer powers allow you to account for exactly how he's going to hit his target. (Your head.) You put your hand up, and grab the hammer. He grunts in displeasure, and Wren punches him, smashing the glass of his visor, but consequently breaking the skin on her hand. 

Wren: Ow. But hey, that felt kinda good. 

Sam runs forward with his sword, swinging it at Hastur. Hastur leaps over it.

Hastur: Hhh... Your... Your father trained you... Yeah? 

Sam: Dude, sometime you're gonna have to learn how to not poke a bear.

Sam swings again, slashing one of Hastur's arms. Hastur yells, leaping toward Alex and swinging at her knee. She lifts her leg, and kicks him over the edge of the walkway.

Wren:...

Alex: I...

Alex: I did it. I beat someone in a fight. I did something helpful without being horribly injured. I am a GOD. 

You look over the edge, and see Hastur hanging on to the walkway from beneath. 

Hastur: Shh....

He flips back on to the walkway, and with incredible speed and strength, takes a flying leap towards Wren. You have a brief vision: You won't be fast enough. He's going to hit her, knock her off the edge. Kill her. 

But, that doesn't happen. 

Sketch gets up. He jumps. Slams Hastur to the ground.

Hastur: No! NOOO!

Hastur slams into Sketch. They roll off the edge of the walkway, into the void. The votex does it's work. Hastur is pulled, screaming, into the white wormhole. Sketch looks right at Wren

Sketch: This is not for you.

The vortex sucks him in as well. He's gone.

Wren:...

Antimony: Wren, are you-

Wren: No. I'm.. not mad at you. But... Can we not talk about it right now?

Antimony: I- okay.

You grab Wren's hand. It's limp and clammy.  She shakes her head.

Wren: Alright. Let's... Go look for Ryan.

You all enter the portal. 

It looks different here, compared to last time. It's not a pine forest. It looks more like a desert, black sand as far as the eye can see... A weird column of red light rising ahead of you. You wonder what happened to change this place so much. Or maybe you just ended up in another part of garbage narnia. 

Well, what to do first? 

 

hey, ive been working double time on the anniversary special thing, and I think it'll be done about a day late, probably. if i were a better worker idve started it earlier but alas, im me. im the only me you've got.

further elaborating on the Sketch thing because i didn't phrase it to my satisfaction. Sketch is what we call an "egg," a trans person who hasn't realized they are transgender. as a writer, this puts me in a slightly tricky position. as an omnipotent writer, im aware that Sketch, the character, was a latent trans woman, and that if he'd been born later, he could have transitioned, and led a better life, probably. still a terrible person, probably, but less outwardly cold and hateful at a minimum. however, Sketch the character never allowed himself to understand that. he would be absolutely livid if i used she/her pronouns for him. so, i default to the pronouns the character would want, because everybody has a right to be wrong about themselves, and it feels like the better thing to do i guess.

it's very similar to how i knew that Alex was a trans woman when i started writing her, and every time i used the word "he" to refer to her, it was like slamming a tiny hammer into my skull. but that's what she would have wanted,e to say at that moment!

cannot reiterate this enough: i literally just write this stuff. which is why i end up in semantic arguments with  myself. view me with a mixture of pity and disgust.

anyway byyye and rip Sketch and Hastur, you were terrible and i loved you both

yo!

ahem. one year ago, i couldn't get past the first three chapters in a novel i was trying to write. i knew all the characters, i had known them for a long time, and i knew the vague shape of a plot as well... but id stopped and started a total of four times over about five or so months. meanwhile, over here, there were a few ongoing text adventures. i had loved that medium since i was little, and i figured that having people actively telling me things would keep me writing regularly. and thus, the terminal.

one year later, we get to ceebrate the fact that Lord Entropy actually consistently worked on a project, and has an actual ending for it in sight! these characters mean a lot to me, and you guys mean a lot to me too. you're great, you've kept me honest, and you've been a blessing! sharing this story with you has been great! continuing to do so will continue to be great! and im celebrating by... giving... myself.... more work.....

uhhh

okay, yeah, tomorrow the terminal anniversary special will probably be ready! six short stories starring all of the Six, before their lives became terrifying! keep your eyes peeled! 

okay! this ended up being late, but pretend it isn't. six short stories, all earlier chronologically than the first part! woo!

 

THE DRIVER DROPS HIS CARGO AT THE CURB

Bad luck comes to Emerald Springs in the back of a reddish-brown minivan, with two occupants. One is your mother. The other is you. 

Your name is Alex. That’s not short for anything.

You are staring out a window. It’s a good smile, or you think so. You practiced it in front of a mirror for weeks. Placid, forlorn, Perfectly rehearsed.Your mother makes a valiant attempt at conversation, explaining that the town isn’t that bad, really, it isn’t, and you ought to make some effort to be cheerful, she doesn’t want this either. You smile flatly, and she chuckles, rolling her eye.

Your mother is named Alice. That isn’t short for anything. She’s about your height, which is to say, not tall, and she smiles very frequently. She also talks quite a bit. She has been forced to move here, along with you, to care for her ailing father. A man you have never met, despite his living only about two and a half hours from your previous address. Your mother also wears an eyepatch.

The shuddering, stuttering van makes its way across a very long bridge, over the Puget Sound and onto an island that houses the town of Emerald Springs. 

You and your mother hail from Lakewood, a small suburb of Tacoma. You have to admit, you will not miss it. You won’t really miss anyone there either. All your friends were really acquaintances, and your enemies… You won’t miss them. Not after Halloween.

Still, this town is unlike Lakewood in every conceivable way. It’s like a wasteland, with deep, dark forests and patches of tall grasses and nettles. Patches of buildings struggle to stand, adorning the empty terrain halfheartedly. You half expect the headless horseman to pop around a corner.

People wander the cracked curbs, almost aimlessly. Judging by their dress, they weren’t alerted that the Slacker Counterculture Movement died in the nineties, unmourned. A few cars drive on the winding, looping roads, up steep inclines.  

As you go up the hill, the houses seem to expand in size, barring the few apartment complexes you saw at the base of the hill. While the houses below were garish little yuppie-suburban homes, the new ones border on gothic mansions, although even these are somewhat decrepit.

YOU: Mom… why are we in Gen X Campbell County? 

Alice: Hehehe!

YOU: And, is grandpa rich, or?

Alice: You’re talking to me! All it took was something to mock, and the possibility of monetary gain. Three miserable hours of sitting in silence. That’s all you needed.

YOU: Uh, “my bad.” But Money?

Your mom sighs.

Alice: Yeah, you know, he passes for upper class around here. He’s, uh, friends with the mayor. Well, “friends.” Life will be… Different!

YOU: In a good way?

Alice: It’ll be… Different.

Silence falls on the car, then, and the journey ends there as well. You’ve stopped in front of a house.

No. House isn’t the right word. It’s a weathered gothic mansion, with at least three stories. Jagged, sprawling, and dark. It looks like a Gorey cartoon. It looks like a tomb for the mystery gang to investigate. Not a “house.”  There’s an iron gate, an actual iron gate. The words “HAWTHORNE MANOR” are actually engraved in a metal plaque on the gate.

There’s also a patch of sunflowers in the front yard. Huh. There’s a couple of people there, both looking about your age, probably. A young woman with pale, almost anemic skin, freckles, a birdlike nose, glasses, sunken, blank-looking eyes. Your cousin, probably? Her friend(?) appears to be yelling, gesturing animatedly. She has yellow-tinted glasses, short, choppy green hair, and a little scar on her face. She’s wearing a hoodie that reaches her knees. Her glasses are sliding down her face, and judging by the blatantly adoring way her companion is looking at her, you’d posit that they’re probably not related.

Your mom turns around, looking at you with her best serious face. 

Alice: Look, I know you don’t wanna be here. I never wanted you to have to be here either. But we’ve gotta be here. Because your Grandpa can’t exactly take care of himself anymore, let alone that poor kid. And… for other reasons. That’ll be clearer later.

YOU: Top ten incredibly ominous things to tell your child.

Alice: Yeah, my bad. Look, I’m saying I’m gonna try to make you happy here.

YOU: Yeah, I know, mom. And hey, no hate if you fail. I’m notoriously hard to please.

She smiles in a weird, sad way. The gate swings open. Hello new, horrible life.

EVERY TIME I LOOK IN HIS EYES HE SEES ME TOO:

Your name is Ryan Hartley. And you are an idiot. 

You are so, so stupid. You are also angry. And not just at yourself. You are in the ninth grade. It’s late august, and you should be out with your friends, but instead you are walking home, and you are so very angry. 

It’s been… a summer. It’s been a summer, and you spent it in your trailer, and you spent that time thinking about what exactly you would say, and how you would get Winton- No, Wren, remember idiot? She’s a chick now. She’s a chick now, so the things you felt toward her suddenly make sense. They are normal things to think and feel.

You planned this all summer. Where did you go wrong? You told her you were sorry, that you’d really just liked her… You told her all the stuff you’re supposed to say. And she’d laughed at first, and then realized with horror that you were being serious, and then talked you down. Told you that she didn’t like guys, and that if she did, you wouldn’t be one of them. 

Your fist is shaking as you’re walking home, and it isn’t shaking because you’re cold. You think to yourself, a little crazily, that your fist has touched her face. You look around. The woods behind the IGA are dark and deep, and a little outlet of forest to the side of it covers a drainage ditch and a creek. You swear you can feel something watching you from the woods… 

You speed up a little. It isn’t that far to the trailer park, and it isn’t raining. You’re not thrilled, but it could be worse. You try not to think about Wren anymore and end up thinking about her even harder because of it. You consider the possibility that she chose that little green-haired freak over you, and then you’re angry again. 

Okay, you swear someone is watching you. In the woods. This isn’t regular flavor paranoia, it is a deluxe version, no punches pulled, there’s-a-huge-silhouette-in-the-forest paranoia. The shadow is huge and wide… and it’s ducking behind trees, following you. Probably a crazy homeless man. You look out to the street. There are a few cars, so you’re not alone… and he’s not going to try anything by the IGA. Past that though… 

It was the way she looked at you that made you so upset, you decide. Once she realized you were being serious, she got this look in her eyes, a soft look, completely the opposite of the scorn she’d had just prior… and you had been stupid enough to think it was reciprocation, but it wasn’t. It was pity. She pitied you. That’s not how that should have gone at all. She talked to you like she was coaching you through some journey of self-discovery. Like she was so very righteous… She makes you sick. 

An old, beat up truck pulls over beside you. Will is in it, smiles and manic energy as always. There’s some older guy driving it. Will says it’s a cousin of his, and would you like to hang out. And you would, because it’s better than being home. Most things are better than being home. And as the car pulls away, you catch a glimpse of the guy in the forest. His skin is black… not dark brown, black like a beetle’s shell, and it seems to reflect light. None of that is possible, so you close your eyes, and you don’t think about her. 

WHEN WE KNOW WE’RE NOT HAPPY HERE

Your name is Sam Aberdeen. It’s a Saturday, and you are twelve years old, but it’s close enough to your birthday that you are beginning to think of yourself as thirteen. It’s the morning, and you’re laying in bed, waiting for your dad to leave. 

It’s been about an hour. You don’t think he’s leaving. You grimace to yourself. It seems that this confrontation is imminent. All you gotta do, you tell yourself, is make a hot pocket. Microwave a hot pocket, get to your bike, and ride to Wren’s house. And your dad won’t be able to “train” you. Sometimes you can hear the sound of a sword being unsheathed just as you drift off to sleep. It’s enough to up and make a man mad anxious. You’ve started waking up more comfortably on school days, because at least then he can’t do his full routine. Dreading the weekend… that just ain’t right.

Oh well, what will be will be. You put on a hoodie and a pair of athletic shorts. You place your shades on your face. And you grab your sword, which is seriously a piece of crap. His is suspiciously higher quality. He won’t even tell you what all of this is for. Ninjas are sick and all, but you have no desire to be one. 

You leave your room. Man, this is a big house. Okay, oil painting, olive green couch, stained glass, grandfather clock, then you’re in the kitchen. Keep that in mind, and… just keep your eyes peeled.

You’re looking for your dad, and you can’t see him. But then, you never do, do you? His sword isn’t real, but this is some scary stuff. You’re like Drew Barrymore in the opening of that movie you watched with Wren, behind your dad’s back. Diana spent that movie with her face buried in Wren’s sweater, which she didn’t mind at all. You wonder if she’s gonna come out this year, it’s hard remembering to say “Winton” in front of other people.

A sound. 

You turn around so fast your glasses almost fly off your face. You look out a window and see… a squirrel. Ha! Okay. It’s fine. And hey, stained glass. So you’re almost to the kitchen. 

You sprint the rest of the way, and soon enough you’re in the kitchen, microwaving a hot pocket. It takes about a minute and thirty seconds, and you spend all of that time on edge. But it stops. You eat your hot pocket, and sprint into the garage. 

You toss your sword to the ground, raising your arms in triumph, and you leap on your bike, downright slamming into the kickstand, peddling down the road. It’s cold but it doesn’t matter. Your dad’s car wasn’t in the driveway. You’re gonna be okay.

And then the headlights flare up behind you, shining in the mist. You don’t have your sword. He wouldn’t stab you, not if you had no way of blocking, but you’ve failed. 

An Aberdeen is always prepared.

That’s tenet number one.

‘CAUSE YOU KEEP SPACIN’ OUT

Your name is Tracy Peixoto. You’re already about a mile away from the trailer where you live. It's summer. You’re fifteen. 

You’re in a wifebeater t-shirt, like Nick Cage in con air. It’s pretty nice out, warm but dry. You’re on your bike, heading down toward the water. On this side of the island, there’s some pretty nice pebble beaches, a decided difference between this side and the other, with its marsh and the spit. The land is pretty flat over here. The hills are all in the middle. Around here, there’s even signs posted warning about tsunami’s, not there have been any of those in recent memory. But then, a tornado hit here once, so that’s not to say that such a thing is impossible. 

No cars are around here. Well, you’ve passed a few, but not many at all. The lutheran church is around here somewhere. You look at your watch. 6:30. It will be safer at home once your dad’s asleep. Then it’ll be all good. You look ahead, and see some guy… It looks like he’s staring down into some big hole in the road. You decide to keep going that way, check it out.

The guy… you’ve seen him before, but it’s still a weird surprise. He’s shirtless, and he has a skateboard. He looks to be either a little older or younger than you. He’s so skinny that he looks half dead. He’s also wearing a hat, pink, with rabbit ears fastened to it. He looks gaunt, weird. There are kids like him all around here. Weird folks. You’re self aware to note that others likely count you among their number.

YOU: Hey.

He doesn’t speak, but he looks up from the hole and fixes his blank stare on you.

YOU: What’s up?

He smiles widely, but his eyes don't change. His gums are red and irritated looking. His lips peel over his gums as he smiles. 

YOU: Gonna go in the hole?

“Bunny”: …

YOU: No? I think I might.

You get off your bike, wheeling it to the side.

YOU: You don’t have to watch it. 

He licks his lips absentmindedly, and then smiles again. You watch him skateboard away, arms aimlessly flailing around. He turns at a fork in the road, and vanishes behind a line of trees. 

The hole is surprisingly smooth along the edges. Cool black stone, deeper down than it should logically be. Past that, dirt. You slide down, probably ruining your jeans. Eh. 

It’s deep, and when you reach the bottom, there is water up to your knees. It’s dark, and you decide you need to leave before it gets dark. Even though that’s a few hours from now, you might lose track of time. 

You wade through shallow water, feeling around the weird chamber you appear to have slid into. It’s round, and not very wide across. Of particular interest is the strange metal square ahead of you. You can feel a seam in the center. A door? You grip the break, and you pull the two sides apart, in a burst of strength. 

A strange green light flows into the chamber. You look down a tunnel, with rounded walls. There are lights on both sides, a faint green. It’s long, and there are two figures walking down it. A tall, old man, and a short figure in some sort of helmet.

Old guy: I… Don’t remember this section of tunnels. It’s rather far from the house. Why are you showing me this?

Helmet guy: Because… I was telling you about the Conceptual Engines (placeholder name). Y’know, these tunnels don’t exist unless someone is around to observe them. Saves you a lot of energy. I was just, you know, showing you. And, hey, in case the whole thing with Apophis goes badly, we have a huge place to hide! He’ll certainly have trouble finding us, that’s for sure! But, I think the clone project will work. I’ve already extracted DNA from the dreamself of the little green haired one, and we’re close to mass-producing exact copies-

Old guy: Wait. Do you see that?

Helmet: Hey… Yeah, some kid. Alright. I got ways we can knock ‘em out. They’ll wake up, memories will fade. Just lemme get within arm’s length of them.

Huh. He has a syringe with some green fluid in it-

…

You wake up lying on your back, in the grass. It’s cool. The grass is a little damp. You look around for your bike, but can’t find it. Instead, there’s a little crumpled up piece of paper, right where it once was. You unfold it, and it reads “Thanks, kid. You’ll never see it again. Love, Hastur.” You see the hole. You try to remember what happened, but that hurts your head, so you stop. You decide to walk home.

YOU SAY “ROCK ON” (I’M NOT THE SAME)

It’s early fall. The trees, or at least the few deciduous ones around here, are beginning to change their color. The evergreens remain, as ever, green. You’re in the woods with your best friend. 

Your name is Diana Zhu. You are a freshman in high school. Last year your friend did what will hopefully be the scariest thing she’ll ever have to do. Today, you are going to do what will hopefully be the scariest thing you’ll ever have to do.

Wren: Shame Sam wasn’t feeling well.

YOU: Yeah. It is.

He isn’t. He coached you, set up a hangout in the woods with both of you, and said he was sick last minute. “Don’t let it be said Sam Aberdeen’s got no game,” he had said. “He just doesn’t use it for himself. Rather, for all the socially impaired around him.” You’d giggled a little then, but you’d been giggling about everything throughout that entire conversation.

Wren: I’m glad we decided to hang out here anyway. Actually, it’s kinda nice. Just the two of us. 

YOU: YES I AGREE WHOLEHEARTEDLY

Wren: ?

Wren: Heh. You seem nervous.

YOU: No I do not.

Wren smiles, rolling her eyes a little.

Wren: Dude, you totally do. And you can’t deny it, you’re painfully obvious. Every emotion you’ve got, it’s full throttle. It’s really cool.

YOU: Okay, I am nervous, yes. You have ensnared me, and in doing so, produced the truth. 

She smiles again, and you walk in silence for a bit. A silence far more comfortable than perhaps it ought to be, given the conversation preceding it. You feel like you’re overheating. It’s really pretty out here. She’s really pretty. You’re going to explode.

YOU: Okay, I have something important to tell you, and I am going to try to back out of saying it, so do not let me do that. No matter how much I beg. No matter how much I plead.

Wren: Okay. Friggin’ ominous, but alright.

YOU: Um-

Wren: Wait, dude, I totally know what this is.

She does?

YOU: You do?

Wren: Yeah, you totally like someone, right?

YOU: Well-

Wren: And you want my blessing or whatever. Best friend blessing, yeah?

She smiles at you. That would normally be a devastating response. You’d probably run away. But she looks sad, in a way you can pick up on. Maybe disappointed. So you keep going.

YOU: Not exactly.

Wren: Is it Sam? Because, uh-

You burst out laughing.

Wren: That’s a no, then? Huh, okay, good. That would be horrible. Terrible couple, seriously.

YOU: Wren, dude, it is you.

She stops in her tracks. You can almost hear a record scratch. She looks at you, and runs her hand through her hair. 

YOU: Um. Yeah… I have liked you, for a long time. Since we met in, like, sixth grade. And, and when you told me you were a girl I was relieved, because by then I had already figured out that I like girls better… And so I have basically been nursing feelings for you for a very long time.

Wren: …

YOU: But, um, do not think that it was in any sort of… I guess ulterior motive sort of way. You are my best friend, that was real, this was not some sort of deliberately planned out scheme. I was never going to tell you, to be honest. I was just… I was… I can be happy as your friend. I think I love you. But I can love you any way that I have to. I can love you as your best friend. I can love you as someone you do not really want to talk to anymore. I…

Wren: …

YOU: I am sorry.

Wren: Dude, don’t be. Look, uh… This is… The weird thing about this is, okay…

Her voice drops an octave.

Wren: I was gonna save this for Valentine's Day.

YOU: What?

Wren: You know, man, I was gonna tell you. Uh, take action. But, I’ve been setting dates for a long time now, and then, okay, the date passes… And then it’s all, you know.

YOU: So you-

Wren: Yeah, man. Look, can I just kiss you or whatever?

YOU: YES

Your thought process afterward is an in-depth examination of your every personal failing that abruptly degenerates into ecstatic gibberish. This is the nicest forest you’ve ever been in. This is the greatest day of your life. You might throw up, but it’ll probably be okay. You’re giggling in between breaths and so is she, and the world is just so beautiful. 

Sam will later claim full credit for everything.

NO ONE’S EVER GONNA HURT THEM HERE

Your name is Winton Hawthorne. You’re back at school from winter break. You are in the sixth grade. You are ten years old, but in a few days, you’ll be eleven. 

Currently, you are hiding behind a trash can. It’s cold, but your hoodie keeps you pretty warm. You remembered being a little excited for middle school, specifically because it meant you’d be directly supervised most of the time. No half hour getting kicked and punched by Ryan in a secluded part of a playground! No “he was just roughhousing” excuses! 

Unfortunately, the principal of Henley Middle decided to be generous. The sixth graders get twenty minutes in the lot beside the school. Hooray… And generally, Sam would be here to divert a few punches away from you and toward himself, but he’s not back from his “ice fishing” trip with his dad, up past the canadian border. You have other friends, but none of them really like you enough to help, except for him. 

Ryan calls you things you’re pretty sure don’t apply to you. He says you’re weird, and that’s probably true. There’s something you need, a deep need, that has drilled a hole through your insides. You know what it is, but he doesn’t. He assumes it’s other things, like maybe you like boys (which you’re pretty sure you don’t). You guess he’s personally incensed by such a concept, as he’s taken it upon himself to stalk you like a starving dog, and beat you up like… something that beats… other things… up…

You can see him from your corner. You sort of wish his friends were with him, they usually try to talk him down. But they’re over by the woods, looking at some bug, and he’s over here, looking for you. You’re hiding behind a garbage can. That will not block you fully from his vision. A place for everything, and everything in its place. He sees you, and smiles.

He’s tearing toward you now, and so you do some sort of acrobatic leap over a garbage can and straight on to concrete, ow. He’s towering over you, grinning, and then he kicks you in the ribs. 

You stagger up to your feet, breathing heavily. He pulls an arm back to punch you, and screams in pain.

Some sort of little goblin appears to be biting him, hard enough to draw blood. You blink twice. That’s no goblin, it’s a girl. She might be two-thirds of your height, if you’re being generous. She has these huge sunglasses on, and, you can’t reiterate this enough, she is hanging onto Ryan’s arm with her teeth. He manages to hurl her off, and she skids on the ground, her sunglasses falling off. 

Ryan: I… You bit me!

???: Good observation skills!

He makes a face, and awkwardly backs away, clutching his arm.

???: I do not think he will be telling anyone. Getting bitten by a girl would be a pretty embarrassing thing to own up to!

YOU: Heh. Y-yeah. You’re th-the new kid, right? I don’t t-think I’ve met you before.

Diana: Yeah, my name is Diana. My dad needed to work a second job, so they are not homeschooling me anymore.

YOU: Okay. I’m Winton. Um. It’s n-nice to meet you. 

Diana: That is good. 

YOU: You, uh, talk kind of funny.

Diana: Yes. It is for clarity of speech. You do too.

YOU: I kind of, uh, stutter. Sometimes. It’s, you, you know, I can stop if I think about it.

She smiles. You will go on to learn many other things about her. She is chinese-american. She believes in aliens. She can’t sleep without getting nightmares. Her last name is Zhu, which you initially heard as “shoe,” but then she said it was spelled with a Z. She’s pretty cool. When you tell her what you’d told Sam, she gets a huge smile on her face and starts buying you clothes, sneaking dresses and shoes into your backpack when you’re not looking. She laughs like an asthmatic fairy. It doesn’t take very long to start loving her.

 

ok, it's been three days so im gonna just put up a part, alright. it's short 

SCOPE THINGS OUT ==>

You decide the best thing to do is get a better look at you surroundings. Hmm. It's a black sand desert, something that you don't think could exist on earth.... but you asume that means the soil is crushed volcanic rock, which is fascinating, really.  There are also two moons in the sky, which seems to be swarming with weird, wingless flying worms, both things you remember from before. 

YOU: Hmm. Something tells me this place was not always like this. That it was destroyed by something.

Sam: Oh, cool, is that seer magic talking?

YOU: No. Murphy's Law. 

Sam: Aha. 

You look closer at the light column. It seems to actually be a glowing tower, on better inspection. It burns to look at somehow. It looks spiky, like a metal album cover. Something... And this is your Seer powers talking... Tells you that Ryan McEdgy is there. There aren't really any other landmarks, so you might as well head in that direction! You're about to say as much, when you turn around and see Wren sobbing quietly. Oh man.

What do you do?