these sweet nightmares

chapter 20: heartless

We were strolling in a bleak and barren land. The ground beneath was cracked into a million fissures, tumbleweeds rolling through, not a cry to be heard. We had all but lost our goodly manners and had resorted to unkindly way of saying, for me, of course, not Die. Die was patience himself, sagacious in his words and wisdom, and behest in my requests of resting here and now and going. He bore my irritation with the fortitude of a warrior and childish fits with a soft murmur that of a mother. Without him, I would have converted into such a brute like those inhabiting these areas.

Time was obsolete here, like the clock tower. And it would have been pointless to check anyway; the sun always stayed in the same darned place, never moving or giving off a flicker.

If anyone had gone crazy by just being here, it would have to be me. Finally the insanity had caught up, the madness that was in me, the irrationality that bubbled up to the surface, of which was contradictory to my rearing up. When I was but a little child, I was taught in the real world what was and what was not logic. Sanity was of perception, of seeing, touching, smelling, hearing, and feeling. Anything else outside of this regime was nonsense, nothing but folly.

Being in a paradoxical place like this, it was all but a slap in the face in Mother Nature, an insult to what was real. I could, by no means of exception, conjure up an alter ego in way to escape the torment that beginning the best of me. With this alter ego, though, I was senseless to the mind, a deluded fool who did nothing but laugh and laugh and laugh, screaming at apparitions not present or believing to be missing a few digits on my hand.

Diedious was understandably vexed, the last ounce of tolerance diminished when I constantly poked at his ribs. “Snap out of it,” Die hissed, nipping at my nose. “You’re delusional.”

I giggled hysterically. “Ooh, you’re fur is so soft! I thought it would be sharp and spikey. Spikey, spikey, spikey,” I sang.

Die moaned. “I’ve lost you.”

I skipped rounding Die, whistling and being jolly. The bare trees lining up were people dancing and the weeds were little cotton balls flying. But my mirth ended too early when Die slapped his tail into my face (“Ouch!”). “Stop. Do you see that over yonder?” His tail curved toward the front.

“See what?” I cupped my eyes but saw nothing but a small, black blob. “That?”

“Yes, that. What is it?”

“I don’t know,” I slurred. “Hmmm…how strange. It is standing upright, and it’s rectangular-ish. What could it be?”

We neared the mysterious blob, prepared to defend ourselves if necessary. However, we were relieved to discover that the blob was not an enemy, but a simple wooden gilt frame. “What the––?”

“My thoughts exactly,” Die said, amused.

“It’s a door!” I tapped the front; it felt solid enough. “Yep, for sure.” I scrutinized it from top to bottom with curiosity, the paint was worn and peeling. “But why is it out here, in the middle of nowhere?” I traveled around the back, but nearly found myself falling into an abyss.

Die caught and hauled me up before I tumbled into the deep chasm, which was the only thing behind the door. “There is nothing behind it!” I exclaimed, staring into the gloom below.

“You should think differently then,” Diedious suggested. “You’re at the back. Come and look at the front again.”

“Why not?” I gave in. I went around again and joined Diedious. “Well?”

“It must lead somewhere,” Die said, pawing it. “It must be here for some reason. Otherwise, it wouldn’t.”

“Yes, well, there are a lot of pointless things here, aren’t there?” I retorted. “Besides, it’s just a door. It’s not going to show us out of this forsaken landscape.” I gestured around the desertification.