Brady Tyson's Walk Along the Precipice

The Things That Humans Cannot Bear - 11

My ax falls to the ground and I clutch at my chest. Then with a massive gasp my lungs fill with air again. As my breathing steadies, I process my surroundings.

I stand in a vast, sprawling... well, I would have to say garden. In terms of design and layout it is certainly reminiscent of a Victorian garden, however there is next to nothing natural about it. In the places where flowers and greenery and other vegetation should be instead 'grows' unsettling... sculpture. Unnatural, dull colored geometrical shapes and protrusions cover the walls and 'fountains' in the garden. These structural elements, on the other hand, are what feel more alive than anything. The walls are a pale, sickly yellow, and almost seem to be textured like scales. In some places, though, this scaly texture makes way for a shiny, dull, red substance. It almost looks like exposed muscle.

It's almost beautiful, in some sort of twisted way, and I have had entirely enough of it for a lifetime. I think it's time to find my companions and get out of here.

Looking down, I find that, to my dismay (or more accurately, gut wrenching dread) that the rope that connected me to my companions and planet earth has been severed at its base. Taking breaths to ease the panic about the possibility of being trapped here forever if I can't find a way out, I pull the rope off of my body and grab my ax from the ground.

I twirl it in my hand, and my handcuff swings in a circle as I head forward with a brisk gait. I pick 'forward' from where I landed since the walls of the garden running parallel to me slope slightly inwards in that direction. Eventually, they must come to a point, and that point is probably the center of this place.

Now let's hope that my companions are smart enough to realize that the best meeting point in a mysterious garden is at the center.

The path isn't a straight shot though. Despite the geometric foliage seeming to repeat in some sort of pattern, the scaley pathway branches and twists and turns. Twice so far I've found my nose in front of a dead end. The alien geometry sprouting forth decoratively leers at me as I try to orient myself. At one point I pass a muted green triangular object, and immediately burst into tears. Before I even realize what's happening a pass another identical object, and the tears stop as suddenly as they started.

I hope that whatever is at the center of this maze will bring us to the leg of Eternity, like those two shadowy people did in the last one, because so far I haven't seen a glimpse of it.

Then I turn a corner and find a rotting humanoid skeleton half buried in a thick mass of shapes. At around twenty feet tall, it towers over me. It has bones I don't recognize, and the parts of the legs that I can see seem to be digitigrade. It protrudes from the ground, held aloft almost like it is on display. The only way forward is around it. My heart pounds in my chest from the start and from the anticipation, but I just grip my ax tighter and start walking towards it.

As I get closer I notice something glinting in its slumped-upwards skull. I squint my eyes up at it and take another step forward.

When my sneaker hits the ground the skeleton's head jerks downwards. My body freezes in place, and my eyelids are wrenched open by an invisible force as the skeleton stares into me with its shimmering, golden eyes. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end as all my instincts tell me to bolt away from the invisible something that is getting close to my face.

And then I'm gone.

Flying through time, I see things.

The birth of a star.

The birth of a planet.

A gargantuan, pale yellow dragon descends from distant nebulae.

It rends its scales from its body with its gaze, forming these into life between its twin paws and twin wings.