×
Hello, guest!
or Register?

Open Cbox
[TOGGLE SIDEBAR]

The Labyrinth and the Snake
Administrator

Image Credits: WerbeFabrik

Player:
Date of Birth:
Pronouns: She/Her
Height:
Plotter:

151 Posts
31 Threads

#1
the maze

The maze stood at the edge of the forest, its ruined, circular walls standing out of a meadowland only sprinkled by the first bushes and trees. 

It was well lit, not only by the moonlight, but by electric lights that made it, at once, more accessible and more otherworldly. There was no gate, no fence, although one could guess the landmark was somehow surveilled. 

A kiosk, by day, sold refreshments and souvenirs; now it stood locked and solitary, its mundane modernity a stark contrast to the mysterious stones.

A dirt track led from the closest parking space to the entrance of the maze. From the forest, the hoot of many night birds.
Artist

Image Credits: Photo by Jens Lindner on Unsplash

Player: RaneyDay
Date of Birth: March 14, 1987
Pronouns: His/Him
Height: 5'8"
Plotter:
Characters:

27 Posts
4 Threads

#2
Fortunately, taking rubbings in the dark of pre-dawn was only going to make him look like a freak, not like a criminal.

And I'm certainly used to that.

But one good thing about both being an artist and being the town eccentric was he could play off any number of oddities as being For His Art. That was his plan if anyone happened to question him about his morning excursion. He still couldn't even say for sure why he felt so driven to do this, except for the fact that the dream had been vivid, disturbing, and not like standard dreams at all. To do these things made him feel far less...uneasy than to simply sit at home and not do them.

He wouldn't even be done yet, with these rubbings. 

He'd walked the maze hundreds of times just for fun. As a child, as an adult. Usually it was a good place for him to think, to get his creative juices flowing. He knew how to get to the center, to the strange altar-thing. He'd never really contemplated who might have erected the altar before. Or why. What they might have worshiped, and what that worship might have driven them to do. 

He shivered in the night air, then got to work in this familiar place that had suddenly become so sinister to him in such a very short period of time.
Administrator

Image Credits: WerbeFabrik

Player:
Date of Birth:
Pronouns: She/Her
Height:
Plotter:

151 Posts
31 Threads

#3
carving, and a snake

As he went on rubbing, more and more abstruse signs appeared under his hands and under his eyes. Just meaningless carvings, at a first glance, charming as they might be. As he went on however, he could discover a hypnotic quality in them. Not unlike in his dream, a pattern existed or did not exist.

He was close to understanding something, however it was just a step out of reach.

A swish.

Soon it disappeared behind a turn of the maze. If he turned his eyes soon enough, however, he could have seen the fleeing head of a snake.
Artist

Image Credits: Photo by Jens Lindner on Unsplash

Player: RaneyDay
Date of Birth: March 14, 1987
Pronouns: His/Him
Height: 5'8"
Plotter:
Characters:

27 Posts
4 Threads

#4
Preston's head whipped around. He tracked that snake.

And he broke out into a sweat. The early morning air cooled it almost instantly, making him shudder. He quickly stowed his rubbing. He didn't want to be in the maze anymore. 

Do you want to pursue this at all?

But already he knew his next steps. Those dragonflies were bothering him. He knew there was an etymologist up at the college. 

And he couldn't remember what Knossos was, but he rather thought he'd go to the library and look that up. 

But he wouldn't look at his rubbings for awhile. Not right away.

Why did you take them then, fool?

Touching his face to reassure himself it was devoid of fur, he exhaled. He wasn't still dreaming. 

Suddenly, he needed something tangible. Something real. He went looking for a coffee shop. He'd have a coffee. He'd have some breakfast. He'd look up that professor's name, and he'd try to get an appointment. Maybe something tangible would ground him, make him feel a bit less like he'd stepped into the twilight zone. Maybe all of this would just inspire some fantastic art later, breakthrough pieces. Maybe all of this would be a net positive for him, and he'd be very glad that he followed his impulses into dark places with charcoal in hand.

Maybe.
Administrator

Image Credits: WerbeFabrik

Player:
Date of Birth:
Pronouns: She/Her
Height:
Plotter:

151 Posts
31 Threads

#5
the maze

As he headed towards the exit, walking a path not unfamiliar to him, he realized he'd got lost. The walls were decrepit, not high enough to hide the outer landscape from his sight; their stones, however, were still bulky enough to be unpractical to jump.

Besides, the carving were hard to ignore. Even as he looked for a way out, they seem to call for his attention. He could swear, for a second, they weren't immobile - he could see them moving, twisting like minuscule worms - or snakes.
Artist

Image Credits: Photo by Jens Lindner on Unsplash

Player: RaneyDay
Date of Birth: March 14, 1987
Pronouns: His/Him
Height: 5'8"
Plotter:
Characters:

27 Posts
4 Threads

#6
For a long, awful moment, cold panic gripped him, drawing sweat out of every pore and tearing his breath out of him in sharp, ragged gasps. 

Not possible. Dreaming! I'm still dreaming!

How? How could he possibly be trapped in a maze that he had walked a thousand times? 

Then, a slow burn in his belly, traveling straight up to the tightening cords of his neck. His eyes narrowed with the force of that fury. Muscles turned hard. He stopped hyperventilating. 

This is nothing new.

All his life he'd been trapped in a maze, really. A maze of other people's expectations and assumptions. A maze of isolation. A maze with a prize at the exit-- happiness-- that despite all of his accomplishments he never seemed to quite make it to. That none of this made sense was true, but it was to be dealt with, one way or the other. 

If he was proud of one thing about how he had navigated that lifelong maze it was this: he had never let anyone or anything intimidate or stop him. He wasn't going to let that change now.

They're just carvings. I refuse to be afraid of carvings.

He strode back to them, rolling his sleeves up as if prepping for a fight. In a way, he was. He stared grimly down at them. Then he brought the flat of his right hand straight down on them. If there were snakes, and they bit him, so be it. If it was just a carving, he'd prove it. And all the while he stared straight down into the writhing mess. If there was understanding to be had there, he would claim it as his own. The same silent battle cry that had shaped his whole life rang through him now.

You don't define me. I define me. 
Administrator

Image Credits: WerbeFabrik

Player:
Date of Birth:
Pronouns: She/Her
Height:
Plotter:

151 Posts
31 Threads

#7
the maze

The stone was cold under his hand. No bite came, but he could feel it pulsating, like a living thing made of thousands of other living things. No attack, however - and if he looked up, he could believe he remembered the way.
Artist

Image Credits: Photo by Jens Lindner on Unsplash

Player: RaneyDay
Date of Birth: March 14, 1987
Pronouns: His/Him
Height: 5'8"
Plotter:
Characters:

27 Posts
4 Threads

#8
His breath caught in his throat. His heart pounded hard enough to make his chest hurt. He felt the tension knot the back of his neck, travel down his arms. All he had to do was look up, and remember the way.

Pulsing stone, warm under his hand.

What is happening to me? 

But he had come this far. Dream, delusion, or strange twist of reality that made all those novels he read and painted for seem far more relevant to every day life...

There was no turning back now. He looked up.

And he took the first step. And another. He would follow the way.
Administrator

Image Credits: WerbeFabrik

Player:
Date of Birth:
Pronouns: She/Her
Height:
Plotter:

151 Posts
31 Threads

#9
The path

There was a path. A way out if the maze.

He was walking on sand. On the grounds, traces of a large slithering beast

His head was swimming. He could, however, walk.
Artist

Image Credits: Photo by Jens Lindner on Unsplash

Player: RaneyDay
Date of Birth: March 14, 1987
Pronouns: His/Him
Height: 5'8"
Plotter:
Characters:

27 Posts
4 Threads

#10
His impulse was to walk out immediately, but there was sand where there should not be sand.


He got out another baby food jar.

Sample. Take a sample. 

He was panting, fear now the predominant emotion once more, but he scooped up sand anyway, capped the jar, threw it into his bag. Determination to get to the bottom of this was still underpinning all that fear.

Then he launched himself at the exit in a dead run, lest the way disappear. But what would be outside of it? Strange flowers? A tiger tiger burning bright? The city he grew up in? Some other city?
Administrator

Image Credits: WerbeFabrik

Player:
Date of Birth:
Pronouns: She/Her
Height:
Plotter:

151 Posts
31 Threads

#11
real world

As he walked out of the maze, the path became clearer and clearer; reality more solid.

Once out, his recent experience felt like an extension of his dream. Its memory clearer enough, but anyway unreal. And yet, he was out of town, out of the maze, irrefutably awake.

The sand in his jar looked more mundane as well: nothing but dirt, the same dirt over which he'd ealked many times, whenever visiting the maze.

An unexpected item, however, emerged as he moved the jar and its content: a transparent, membranous insect wing.
Artist

Image Credits: Photo by Jens Lindner on Unsplash

Player: RaneyDay
Date of Birth: March 14, 1987
Pronouns: His/Him
Height: 5'8"
Plotter:
Characters:

27 Posts
4 Threads

#12
Preston flopped against his car, panting, staring at the dirt. He almost threw it out, but then he saw it, the insect wing.

Another blasted dragonfly?

He rubbed a hand over his face and got into the car, wrapping his hands around the steering wheel. It was tangible. Mundane. Explainable. Real.

But dragonflies were also tangible, explainable, and real. Perhaps the dragonflies have some sort of...ergot. Effect. I need to talk to that biologist. 

He checked himself in the mirror. Dirty, sweaty, a little wild eyed.

Nope. He needed to go get a shower, and get changed, and turn respectable again. This might even call for a vest today. And then he would try to make an appointment with the bug expert.


Forum Jump:


Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)