yearning

“Welcome! To! Nightmare’s! Nightmareland!”

With that, a star explodes above you, raining down balls of colourful fire that screams like newborn babes.

It’s the last day of the seasonal cycle, and you have decided to invite your friends to do something fun and memorable together. You specifically extend the invitation to the many Present Absences in the store, including Egbert and Albert (who isn’t one but that’s more a technicality). Egbert sent a note to say they’re too busy with end-of-season affairs, but appreciates the gesture. Albert apologises politely for not being able to be there in person, but expresses an interest to observe the trip through some experimental first-person monitoring. Many Absences turn up though, Rainier Weather shows up alongside Viridescent Honey and Lightless even managed to drag Breathless along.

Since most participants are absent, it made the most sense to host it… nowhere. And Nightmare was most eager to provide the opportunity.

As Nightmare’s voice resounds through the void, a massive cast iron gate swings open with an ominous squeak, just the right frequency to put the image of long, uneven nails scratching a blackboard into everyone’s mind. Behind the gate, there is… an abandoned looking theme park.

…

“Is this what we’re meant to do…?” Seeps questions, as your Wings’ heat melts the last zombie. You are not sure, but this is what you ended up doing.

You ponder the rides you’ve tried so far.

Abyss’ Stare was a deep space horror roller coaster, where you’re all basically thrown into deep space after an explosive roller coaster ride. The fall was quite exciting, but the empty darkness became a bit bland very soon, especially since none of you could really experience the “oxygen level low, no back up oxygen source detected; temperature dropping, critical condition in 2 minutes…” feeling that mortals might have in a similar situation. Mask seems to have engaged themself in a staring contest with the deep space void. They did not manage to win or lose before everyone else got bored and dragged them out.

The walk through the graveyard made a nice change of pace after the trip to deep space, but Viridescent became distracted as she realised how fertile the soil is. Then brilliantly coloured flowers started sprouting (thanks to Rainier Weather’s watering), completely changing the original dark and gloomy aesthetic.

The haunted hospital would have been scary, if not for the fact that you have all gotten so accustomed to Breathless’ Coat of Slain Potentials, which literally looks like layers of its own corpses pinned to its back.

“No, this is not what you’re meant to do.” Nightmare sighs right behind each of your necks, its nonexistent breath chilly and prickly. “But then, you are immortal beings nigh incomprehensible to mortal minds. You are the horrors that scare children into silence and push the feeble minded into madness. This isn’t fair to my little creations.”

“Can’t you just, maybe, do better?”

Nightmare huffs indignantly. “Well I do. I can give you something scary. I can give you a taste of true horror. I can loop you in an unending cycle of boredom so mundane it dulls even its own painful banality. I can lock you in a room filled with awfully pleasant kitsch music, which you can’t leave unless you can fill the right paperwork correctly. These things I can do, but should I?”

You all ponder for a moment and agree maybe it shouldn’t.

“And you know, you are a bit like an absence, aren’t you?” Nightmare moves on smoothly, “yearning, the absence of a name, of an understanding, of satisfaction. So it’s not my fault this little theme park doesn’t satisfy you, is it? Maybe it’s just your nature.” A shadow of a child leans out of a dark corner and sticks its tongue out at you. The eye upon the tongue gives you a wink before the child disappears once more, leaving behind only the sound of a bell.

After that it seems to have left. Of course, you know they haven’t. You are still in it. Though also it was never here to begin with and you are nowhere. Anyways. Perhaps you could still entertain yourself and your friends in some other ways. You had some fun there, though not exactly the kind of fun this place intends to provide, but maybe there are other things …You suddenly have a thought. Could this be a good place to conduct the ritual that can transform Absences into Presences? Nowhere else in Emporium is the line between reality and non-reality so blurred.

You ask your friends about this and Lightless, Absence of the Sun, Rainier Weather, Absence of the Sky, and Breathless, Absence of Mortality all show interest. You ask Lightless to re-enter the deep space roller coaster. You make sure it is hanging in the middle of the cosmic blackness and begins to create a ritual stage around it. With some ritualistic framing you solidify that paradoxical unreality that is Nightmare’s nature into the paint for your ritual circle (it is red, it looks like blood, when you paint with it you can almost hear someone hissing in pain, classic Nightmare). With the ritual circle done, you ask your friends to join hands around it and join you in an evocation. You are trying to call back Lightless’ past emotions, even those they don’t remember or never quite had as them. You guide Lightless in imagining what they want to be, who they want to be, what they yearn for but cannot even utter. In your Aura shapes begin to form, strange images and sounds, the silent explosions of hydrogen and nitrogen, unbearable yet oh so loving heat, and then… for the briefest moment, stunning light that pierces the darkness completely.

An almost daybreak.

As darkness surrounds you all once more and Lightless falls flat, exhausted, you can tell they are ecstatic with hope. Yes, you are on the right track. If any of the Absences wants to become Presences once more… gods of this realm, you can help. And judging from the expression on some of their faces, you think you are going to be very busy on your final day here.

The Sun is setting. A magnificent golden eye, gently weeping. Its tears have dyed the Sky in stripes of rose pink, blood red, citrine amber, languid violet. In the west, the Sky remains blue, clear and carefree. Near the horizon, underneath the vibrant banquet of colours, there is already a hint of night. Indigo fades to a serene dark blue, a promise of restful sleep.

A mortal raises his arms towards the Sky, leisurely reaching for the ribbons of clouds. Emporium stands behind him, each window and their golden frames gleaming brilliantly in the sunset.

He bathes in the dying daylight, knowing it will return tomorrow.

Unlike him.

He slowly draws a breath, tasting the sunset. Rose. Blood. Orange. Violet.

He slowly lets out the breath.

His last.

Under the setting Sun, under Emporium’s Sky, a mortal dies.

[The first few pages of the journal are torn into shreds, as if by claws. The pages that follow continue to be crumpled and occasionally torn, but the condition of the notebook improves as it goes on. Below is a selection of decipherable content from different pages.]

FOOD! LOTS OF FOOD! ……….HAPPY FEAST… FOR ALL………

PLANET SIZED CAKE! LAVA… CAKE? FRIEND BIT CAKE. FRIEND ATE CAKE. SAID IT IS CAKE.

SWEET! VERY HOT! TEETH HUrt…

…

SMALL WORLD… MORE SMALL THAN LAVA CAKE…

FRIEND SHOWED LITTLE PEOPLE IMAGES AND SOUNDS. LITTLE PEOPLE DANCED AND CLAPPED. LITTLE PEOPLE GAVE THINGS. GIFTS? GifTsssss FOR THE… WELL BEHAVED…. FOR EVERYONE

EVEN………RUPTI

[The rest of the page is filled with a messy drawing. A creature defined by sharp, ragged lines next to a black humanoid shape is receiving flowers from some very small and round creatures.]

…

RUPTI AND FRIEND NOW DRAWINGS. STRANGE PLANE. WE FLAT NOW. FRIEND LOOK LIKE INK BLOCK. BUTTERFLY? FACE? FOOD?

FRIEND SEEM HAPPY.

MET MORE DRAWINGS. DRAWING-PEOPLE. INKLINGS. THEY HAPPY TO SEE FRIEND AND RUPTI. INKLINGS TAKE US ON JOURNEYS TO FIND… ANSWERS? MEANING? FRIEND SAY THAT MEANS PURPOSE. PURPOSE MEANS HOME.

RUPTI DOES NOT KNOW WHAT ANSWERS MEanING PUrpOSE HOME aRE……

MUST RUN FROM ERASERS! NOTE: PENCILS SHARP!

OOooooH THE ERASER IS COMIN

[The rest of the page seems to be written over several times, the words being erased every time. The edge of the page is burnt black. There is a faint image barely visible near the burnt edge, of a ragged angular creature running away with a black humanoid shape with fiery wings.]

…

WHAT

WHAT IS THIS

THIS PLANE WHITE. WATER HARD. LITTLE FLAKES. LIKE SUGAR BUT NOT SWEET.

IS THIS IS THIS errrrroooorrrrr Snnnnnoooowwwww???

FRIEND GATHER SNOOoowWWW INTO SHAPES

FRIEND SAY IT IS RUPTI. NOW THERE ARE TWO RUPTIsss?

FRIEND SAY THIS IS WHAT PEOPLE DO IN wWwwinttttER

THIS IS WINTER

WINTER WITH FRIEND

FRIEND SAY THE OTHER RUPTI IS A GiiiiFT TO RUPTI. RUPTI WILL GIVE GIFT TO FRIEND AS WELL.

[Following is a crude drawing of two ragged, angular shapes, one coloured-in and one blank holding hands with two humanoid shapes, one coloured-in and one blank. In bold letters above them is the word “HOME”.]

…

DAY SOME

NEW PLANE is big music hall. RUPTI try not to be so loud. Music nice. RUPTI KNOWS SONGS. WINTERY songs. FRIEND and RUPTI startled musicians. Musicians dropped notes. FRIEND and RUPTI found the notes and the musicians are happy again. They made a FEAST in thanks! Music notes, CRUNCH!

FRIEND and RUPTI sang together. GIFT to the nice musicians. They also gave FRIEND and RUPTI songs. RUPTI can pass the new songs to other planes. More GIFTS!

…

DAY ANOTHER

Hall of Memories is very quiet. Weavers don’t have mouths. RUPTI sang. They wove the lyrics. GIFT received? FRIEND burns holes in their fabrics. Not intentionally. it says it just happened.

Weavers don’t seem to mind. They fill the gaps, but with something different.

RUPTI asked. They don’t have mouths. They just wove.

FRIEND and RUPTI found tapestry of FRIEND and RUPTI. Weaver friends. Musician friends. Snow friends. Inkling friends. Little round friends. Many more friends. LAVA CAKES! Emporium…

It is a very long tapestry. It has been a long journey. We haven’t seen most of the friends again.

Will we ever?

FRIEND unsure.

It is a very long tapestry. And it will grow a lot longer. There are still many worlds out there. Many, many more worlds.

Before we leave, Weavers gave GIFT. RUPTI is happy.

[Pinned to this page is a piece of fabric of unknown material, upon which those words sing: Dashing through the snow/On a one-horse open sleigh,/Over the fields we go,/Laughing all the way…]