FATE\Deus Decipit

Chapter 90: Don't Look Back

...

Ink and paint dripped along a canvas. The lines became trees and twigs, the blotches became leaves, and, in the center of the canvas, the ink ran as if across a river rock, twisting into strange currents and oblong shapes which were then further twisted by an invisible brush into something that could be recognized.

As her mind became fuller, the drops of consciousness streaming steadily into the cup of her paltry existence, she found herself back where she had always been: on the edge of that same grove. The skies overhead were gray, and the trees were barren, meaning that not much time had passed since the last time she woke up, or else so much time that the cycle had started again from the beginning. The latter was an oddly tempting suggestion since the man who usually greeted her was not there, but, rather, it was the bohemian sitting atop a wooden throne that appeared to be carved from a single log and overrun with vines. He was surrounded by a feast: roast birds and beef, fruits abound, and all atop beautifully carved tables. He was joined by others, men with jolly faces, curling horns, and hairy lower halves with backward knees that ended in hooves. They were raucously partaking of the food, laughing among one another and seeming to find pure ecstasy in each other's company. The bohemian, in contrast, was serene, almost appearing to be asleep; slumped forward with his bearded chin in his hand.

She reached out towards him on a whim, only then realizing that she had a hand. Here, for the first time, she actually existed. She looked down at herself, finding only a body. "Only" because there were no discerning or individual features. In fact, it didn't seem to have any appearance at all: only the vague outline of a human person. Without sex. Without identity. Without purpose. Without even a name.

But this, she realized, was all she needed. She was no longer an outsider. The door was opened, and, if she wanted to approach, she could.

She began to push aside the brush in her way.

WHERE ARE YOU GOING, CHILD?

She stopped. With her freedom, she knew she could turn around and see who or whatever was speaking to her, what had, in some sense, made her, and shown her this vision, but she chose not to. She was far too afraid of him.

"I... want to join the feast. Can't I?"

YOU SURELY CAN, BUT WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO? HAVE YOU LEARNED NOTHING, CHILD? THE SNAKE HAS LURED YOU INTO HIS TRAP ONCE, AND HE KILLED YOU BY THOSE MEANS, AND YET YOU RETURN TO HIS POISON? HAVE I RAISED YOU TO BE SO FOOLISH?

"What?" She almost turned around in sheer confusion, but stopped herself, "He's killed me already? Am I dead?"

HOW WOULD YOU CALL YOURSELF ALIVE? WHERE IS YOUR BODY? WHERE IS YOUR HEART? WHAT IS YOUR NAME?

"What is my name?"

YOU ARE NOT EVEN SO MUCH AS A GHOST. YOU ARE NOTHING BUT THE SHATTERED REMNANTS OF A BROKEN HEART, HALF-ASSEMBLED INTO SOMETHING LIKE A MIND. A SPECK OF DUST THAT ONLY EXISTS BECAUSE IT IS SO SMALL AND INSIGNIFICANT THAT IT MANAGED TO SLIP THROUGH THE STRAINER. DIE AGAIN, AND THE BROKEN PIECES WILL BE SO SMALL THAT NOT EVEN I COULD PUT THEM BACK TOGETHER. IF NOTHING ELSE-

A crooked and withered branch, like the outstretched hand of a witch, reached past her to gesture towards the feast.

-BEHOLD THE STORY'S END. IF NONEXISTENCE STILL APPEALS TO YOU, THEN BY ALL MEANS TAKE OF THE FRUIT. MY DISAPPOINTMENT WILL BE ALL THAT REMAINS OF YOUR FOLLY.

She turned back to the grove and, if she had a face, her brow would've furrowed. The food looked delectable, and, although she knew by now that the man was dangerous, he also seemed to be a man who treated his friends well, and, if she could be his friend, then she would also be treated well, right? More than that was another, equally penetrating feeling that caused her to wonder how long she had been here; how long she had even been alive. It occurred to her now that, if the presence behind her was to be believed, she had never met a human in her life. She wanted to. She longed to. She wanted so desperately for someone to touch her, to hold her, to look her in the eye and say, 'you exist.'