Seekers' Island

config.style.page.font: "Iowan Old Style/Constantia/Georgia/serif 18" config.style.page.color: "white on black " config.style.page.link.font: "bold" config.style.page.link.color: "cyan-9" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "red-8" config.style.page.link.active.color: "black on white" config.style.page.header.font: "16" config.style.page.header.link.font: "small caps" config.style.page.footer.font: "16" config.style.page.footer.link.font: "small caps" -- SEEKERS' ISLAND by S. Chance {link to: '2', label: 'Open your eyes'} {link to: '3', label: 'Keep them closed'}

You find yourself in a dark wood, surrounded by trees of claw like twigs and shadows that seem to shift in the corners of your eyes. Where do you want to go? {link to: '4', label: 'Backwards'} {link to: '7', label: 'Forwards'}

You hear birds squawking and leaves rustling. The bitter wind whispers in your ear: {link to: '2', label: 'Open your eyes'}

You turn 180. The path isn't very clear but it's doable. You push through the thickness of branches, getting whacked by them here and there. Thorns graze your limbs. You're starting to think this wasn't such a good idea. But just a few steps in there's a little opening to a small grassy space, spotlighted by moonbeam between trees. You draw nearer, glad to take a break from swinging, scratchy branches. To your surprise, a toad cartwheels into the space. Then a hedgehog. Then a rabbit. Then a doormouse. You all blink at one another for a while before they start bursting into song. You wonder if this is a strange phenomena or an everyday occurrence. Either way it's strangely familiar yet uncanny and it's freaking you out. {link to: '7', label: 'Run back'}

Somebody takes your hand and leads you into their delightful frenzy. You're given a ball of liquid that hovers over your hand. Others seem to be sucking theirs in, you know like in Antz, so you follow suit. Within seconds the levels of fun increase and all your concerns are non-existent. After playing with their holographic games a thousand times, your offered another ball. The fun *is* starting to wear off already... {link to: '13', label: 'Hell yeah, suck it!'} {link to: '12', label: 'Get to the Healing Waters'}

It's been a long journey and you're extremely thirsty. Your ankle throbs in pain. But wait - a pool of glistening water appears - is it real or a mirage? You get in gingerly and cup some of it in your hands to sip from. The refreshingly cold water wakes up your senses and fills your head with clarity. The pain in your ankle melts away so you check on the scars from the thorns. They remain. That's okay, you can walk better now. You admire the colourful butterflies and mushrooms that adorn the oasis. The peacefulness is profound. "What's next?" You ask. {link to: '14', label: 'The Surrender Hills'}

As you step forward, you immediately fall over, head first into a muddy puddle. You get up, wiping away as much as possible, but your ankle is a little sore now. Hobbling around the puddle, you keep on through the darkness, with nothing but the moon's light to guide you. You feel as though you are not alone, searching around for any sign of an animal. Your ears prick at the sound of a twig snapping up ahead. Proceeding with caution, the earthy scent of the woods is overpowered by a new smell, one you can't quite describe. You can make out a cabin in the misty distance. Bubbles float out of the chimney. The door opens. {link to: '8', label: 'Enter'}

An elderly woman with jet black skin and bright white dreadlocks stands before you. Her warm smile radiates from her face as though she knows you. "Hello, dear one. I am the Dreamweaver." You shiver. "Come," the Dreamweaver guides you to a rocking chair by a crackling fire where the bubbles are born, and hands you a towel. You wipe yourself down and melt into the chair by the heat. Rows of tinctures shimmer on shelves along the walls. She brings you a cup of herbal tea which seems to give you a sense of hope with every sip. "Now," she says curiously, "what do you long for?" It's a tricky question since you're not sure who you are or why you're here. But the tea... it's making you remember yourself bit by bit. So go on, what do you long for? You open your mouth - "No need, I can feel it," she opens a cabinet full of colourful yarn that emit tiny shootings stars. She chooses a few then goes over to a loom, setting it up. Your eyes droop and you put the tea aside. "Rest," says the Dreamweaver. "This won't take long." As your eyes slowly close, you watch her weave, sparks flying from the loom. You dream of everything you've ever wanted and how life would be if you made the changes you aim to make. It's wondrous, freeing. Just right. Then the ground beneath you shudders and something dark steadily consumes the colour out of all it touches. A big entity of nothingness that breaks it all down hungrily and relentlessly. You try to run but there's no where to go. You're swallowed whole, free falling into the abyss. Gasping for air, you awaken in the cabin. "Awareness, pain, persistence..." a familiar voice. The Dreamweaver comes over to present a tapestry, a woven representation of your dream. Along the border it reads; 'You can plan a pretty picnic but you can't predict the weather.' "Outkast?" Your surprised by your own voice and the word it shaped. "Poets of your realm, no?" She smiles, rolling the tapestry up to an impossibly small size and putting it in your pocket. "Off you go." You thank her and leave. You see the end of the woods, a golden sun rising beyond the horizon. {link to: '10', label: 'Go to Dope Rush Valley'} {link to: '9', label: 'Wait, what was that back there?'}

Yonder, you see people dancing leerily around campervans. As you draw closer you see they've got everything you've ever wanted. Not what's on your tapestry but the quickly attained, temporarily lasting, consequentially risky stuff. The stuff you have to do again and again to sustain a positive feeling to keep the party going. Here, a partly false sense of happiness, love, safety, and relief can be achieved with no effort. The only sacrifice is self-sabotage... {link to: '11', label: 'Join in!'} {link to: '12', label: 'Go to the Healing Waters'}

You walk back and push through the thickness of branches, thorns grazing your limbs. You're starting to think this wasn't such a good idea but you're curious. There's a little opening to a small grassy space and to your surprise, a toad cartwheels into the it. Then a hedgehog. Then a rabbit. Then a doormouse. You all blink at one another for a while before they start bursting into song. It takes a while for you to realise that every number they belch out is a musical rendition of your memories. The time that *thing* happened... and that other thing. It brings forth feelings of shame and resentment. It's alarming to see them prance around in a dance routine, as though mocking your past experiences. It's quite overwhelming actually. You feel tears roll down your cheeks and yet part of you wants to laugh... Something makes you want to step on up and frolic around like them. Somehow you know all the moves and the words to the medley of your past. You feel a sense of acceptance. When it's over, you applaud them and they bow. You hear movement behind you and when you turn around, you see a new path clearing as the bush glides apart, revealing a golden sunrise. {link to: '10', label: 'Onwards to Dope Rush Valley'}

You take another ball and everything's spinning. Your muscles grow weak and you're starting to forget why you're here. You feel something in your pocket. It's the tapestry. Despite the weakness, you could stay here forever, but it doesn't look or feel anything like your dream. You stumble over some passed out people to get to the end of the campsite. {link to: '12', label: '(Try to) get to the Healing Waters'}

You dry out in the warming sun and climb up a nearby hill. Flowers grow after every step you take. The urge to roll down from the top is palpable, but once you get there, the steepness of it seems like a much scarier feat. I'd give you the option to go back to the Healing Waters or maybe even Dope Rush Valley, but your courage and determination seems to be eradicating that part of your free will. You close your eyes. {link to: '15', label: 'Lets roll'}

Every contact with the ground hurts a little but the lack of control is liberating. When you come to the end of the hill you hear the sound of crashing waves. You spring up, taking in the salty air. You see an abandoned boat at the shore. {link to: '16', label: 'All aboard'}

You push the boat out and get in. It's rocky and you have no idea where you're going or how to get there. And even if you did, you have no map nor compass. But you'll learn to sail, come what may. {link to: '17', label: 'Sail into the unknown...'}

I hope you enjoyed Seekers' Island by S. Chance Edited by Eleanor Goldson. Please share around! ❤️‍🩹