Walking on this path in the woods was nothing out of the ordinary for her.
However, there was something different about the outdoors today, the way the wind blew through the leaves told her this would be a day she would always remember.
She had walked this way with her brother, when they were younger. But for some reason stopped when she got older.
She hadn't been this way in years. Maybe because she thought the path would be overgrown and faded. Or maybe it was because she didn't want to remember...
the last hike they took this way.
Without warning, a stale, viscous air enveloped the back of her right shoulder. It was cold, and slowly caressed her cheek.
She darted away from the touch to see the animated corpse of her dead father;
beloved foam finger still attached to his decomposing hand.
She knew then, the foam finger was responsible for numerous historical atrocities. She realized this was the same finger that hitler and Eva had used to pen the German history.
This object was responsible for some of the most important moments in the world's history.
She believed that its power could be used for good, instead of evil.
But she was wrong. At least, in this dimension.
Not every story is as simple as it seems.
Select one of the buttons below to continue story, choose wisely each button will bring you down wildly different paths.
The port-thruster's burn rate had been mis calibrated.
In half a second we'd be lost, for some reason I smiled.
Tolling in that moment, being lost was relative to something... and that something no longer mattered.
I kept exploring without intentions or inhibitions.
Maybe I would find a new sense of being for me, but then again maybe not.
Minutes became hours. Hours became… more hours. My desire to discover something meaningful quickly turned into something else completely.
I couldn't help but think,
"If I had a beer maybe this wouldn't be so bad."
Well... maybe a bucket of beer and a bucket of candy: Fireballs, Tongue splashers, and nerds.
Then everything wouldn't be so bad.
Because I feel so much stronger on a sugar high...
Even fighting off this dragon now seems possible!
Once again you have a choice to make...
Which option just feels right?
She took a deep breathe in,
and at that very moment decided that she would let go of any fear that she had.
Her hand gripped his tightly, her eyes squeezed shut and she yelled 'GO!'
He smiles at her and starts the routine monster check, searching under the bed, behind the dresser, in the closet.
As he authoritatively declares the room monster free...
he realizes there is another child in the room with them.
This child has a strange presence about them, giving him pause and reason to reconsider the claim.
The child did not look innocent. His eyes were dark and looked as if they had never held a twinkle.
It was the absolute "lack"of twinkle in his eyes that concerned me. His eyes showed nothing.
They only cautioned me to keep a distance.
But I couldn't stop staring. Something made them look so dark and absent. And I needed to know what.
Another fork in the road...
This is probably the most inporatant decision you will make all day, don't mess it up.
As I approached the dragon it flew away - too much energy to stop myself now, I guess these giant chinchillas will have to do.
I guess these giant chinchillas will have to do.
The chinchilla to my left is called Lord Larthvayne and he capable of turning a deep amythyst purple when stimulated. The one to my right goes by Stirt Birvin and speaks three languages fluently.
As I stand between Lord Larthvayne and Stirt Birvin I am torn by their attributes but my decision is based on a need for a chinchilla as worldly as I.
I choose Stirt Birvin to tour the globe by my side.
But unfortunately Stirts craigslist fetish always made for awkward train rides and missed planes.
And even though certain unenlightened souls may have frowned upon a man wearing used stilettos,
Stirts loved them nonetheless.
Though that's not to say it wasn't complete hell when his compulsive tardiness lead to a weekly sprint through the airport, trying to catch his flight home.
We ended up making our flight. We downed 12 mini bottles of airplane whiskey and made a plan to get back to that path in the woods. We realized the foam figer was responsible for Stirts strong fashion sense, he couldn't let that power get away.
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Even though the dragon is from the triwizard tournament and almost killed Harry Potter! I knew I could slay the dragon and end the witches reign over the land.
I could even maybe take out that Harry Potter aftwards since he’s kind of an asshole.
But no sooner had I gotten the fiery beast in my sights that I realized he was not what he appeared.
Undeterred and true to form I screamed; "THUG LIFE" and emptied the clip. My ears rang sharply, the boxlike American made Mac 11 felt heavier in hand.
Stamped Brass littered the ground, and the beast just grinned an unforgettable smile.
The beast lurked towards me slowly and I doubted myself more with every earth quaking step it took.
Then I remembered I had the foam finger in my backpack all along! I shoved it on my hand and tickled the beast under the chin. He grinned and placed me on his back and we flew off into a sky of stars knowing we would be the start of something great.
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So I put down my clipboard, and put my face right up against the glass.
That's when I first saw what we now call the anomaly.
I jumped back aghast and immediately turned to my friend.
"Wilbur?" I had a habit of using his middle name when I was in distress. He shrugged. "Hey kid, this is your time to shine."
I took a deep breath and carefully lifted the banjo from its case.
My hand curled around it's neck as I lifted the strap over my shoulder. For the first time in quite some time I felt complete and at peace. I turned slowly as my fingers felt the strings.
The venue was full and my nerves were calm.
Before I was able to create a sound, the lights unexpectedly dimmed to complete darkness.
After a few seconds, the lights switched back on and I realized I was now completely alone.
And I was also no longer in the concert hall. I was surrounded by the same woods I knew I would never be able to escape. I now know I should have never come back to this path, it should have stayed in my past.
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Were they grown from some sort of emotional abyss? Were they unowingly constructed by the subconscious minds of sad children?
Their complication has become my new obsession.
I picked up my phone and dialed the number for the clown company, hoping the familiar voice would pick up.
Damn voicemail... What clown can't answer their phone? I have to think... Who else can I contact?
Who else can I contact?
So I called my best friend, since she owes me from making me go to a wedding with her on 4th of July.
When she answered, all I could hear on the other end was
Annie theme song playing in the background...
'Ayyyy lmao' I shouted into the receiver as I reached for a new syringe.
Without another syringe the curse the child placed on me would be permanent. I needed to find more, or to make it back to the woods where the foam finger could solve everything.
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I bet you're curious how else this all could have gone...
