Viewing Thread:
"SSC2: Never Go Back"

The sheer grey monoliths rose on either side of me as I edged on nervously down the road. That's what they felt like. Monoliths.The word implied, in my mind at least, ancient stones. Yes, that was it. Towering blocks that evoked imagery of druids, blood sacrifice, and, above all, evil. The shadows they cast lengthened as I continued.

There's always something evil about shadows too. People can tell you it's just the light. That's not what I believe.

Well, not believe as such. It takes great sense of character to believe in something, that's what I was told as a boy. It seemed wrong somehow. I've always thought it takes no sense of character to believe, just a need.

A noise, off to the right. Or perhaps a memory of a noise. Surely there was nothing alive here. There hadn't been for generations, that's what I was told as a boy.

I'd been told a lot of things as a boy. It all seemed so inconsequential then.

Monoliths and their shadows. I was stuck with that now. I could go Back, of course. Yes...Go Back. You'd think, after years of trying to forget my past, that I wouldn't be consumed by a dread of it.

Never go Back. I can't ever go Back. Well, I knew what direction that left me. Forward. So?

Heh, they weren't actual monoliths in the classical sense, of course. But the word seems to have evolved, somehow, to include these too.

Why? I should've asked, of course. Why is this tunnel of rock so…well, you know. You’ve seen it. Yes, I should've asked. But to do that, I would've have to go Back. Only they know, you see.

Stupid, of course you don't see. You couldn't know. I was there, all alone, surrounded by ever-lengthening shadows. I should have realised what that meant. But no, all I saw was shadows. Not what I should have seen.

Night was coming. I needed to reach there soon. Or, well....I'd have to go Back.

There was a fear in that place, before I drew breath. And it soaked into me then. I absorbed it through my skin, felt it in air....sensed it.

That fear took me whole. The shadows, the thousand faces I saw in my mind's eye....watching me. Hunting me.

I broke into a run. Foolish, I know. But you can never know what it's like in that place. You know life as it exist today. Bustling with the noise you find so comforting. Most importantly - you don't know what silence tastes like.

You know the word, of course. Everyone does. Some even hear it, for brief stretches. Doesn't matter. Until you've stood in that place, you've never tasted it.

And as I stood there, the fear so much a part of me I never thought I’d known anything else, I saw it. Standing alone at the end of the tunnel.

Those sails had never turned. That would imply life, and nothing seemed more foreign at that moment than life. Of course, life had to have built that mill, but it wasn’t life that had touched ground here for centuries. That place was ancient. And still I ran.

Oh yes, I ran towards it. Ran as if my life depended on it. Which, as it turned out…

The door was locked. Of course it was. If it opened, that would be too easy. That’s when it started.

That was the worst part. The fear was enough on it’s own, conceived by shadowplay and human weakness. It was insubstantial, at first. Before it started.

The howling. Faint. At first. It wasn’t getting louder as such, but it carried, with certainity bound in iron, a sense of speed.

Speed that was focused on me. There was no one else it could be directed at.

I kicked at the door with a madness consuming me. I knew, with such clarity, that I had two options. Get inside that place, or die. Blood was seeping from under my fingernails as the wood bit into my flesh.

I was scratching and pounding that door, that’s all I remember. I don’t know how long I tried to get into that mill. All I know was that the shadows stopped lengthening at some point.

Night had arrived.

And then, something happened. The howling stopped. I stopped. Everything stopped. That’s how it seemed.

Yes, that’s when I turned. I don’t think the fear went. I’ve heard tell of how people have become so fearful that it becomes part of their self.

Once it’s there, it never leaves.

That’s when I turned. The legends about that mill had been all I had thought about for years and years. In there was my redemption.

But outside there was my curse. So I turned, pressed my back against that door, and sank to the floor.

I couldn’t go forward. I could never go Back. So what do I do now?

I just exist.

You want my advice? Don't ever try and get to that place.

But you're going to, aren't you?
Of course you are.

It's starts very well, and succeeds in creating an atmosphere, however, I felt this opening, setting this up, went on too long, I was waiting for something more to happen.

Once the fear and panic sets in the pace of the story picks up, but I felt that there should have been something more to the ending.

So atmosphere great - well created, but I felt it required a little more substance to the story itself.

Interesting style. Meka has got his work cut out.

Nice style, liked the way you "talked to the reader" or whatever.
Anyway, good.

Damn right I'm going there.
Right away.

And so the competition grows.
I liked it a lot - I don't think I've ever read something of yours, so it must have been a long time since.

Yummy.

Er, thought I'd give it a go. Haven't written anything for ages.

The sheer grey monoliths rose on either side of me as I edged on nervously down the road. That's what they felt like. Monoliths.The word implied, in my mind at least, ancient stones. Yes, that was it. Towering blocks that evoked imagery of druids, blood sacrifice, and, above all, evil. The shadows they cast lengthened as I continued.

There's always something evil about shadows too. People can tell you it's just the light. That's not what I believe.

Well, not believe as such. It takes great sense of character to believe in something, that's what I was told as a boy. It seemed wrong somehow. I've always thought it takes no sense of character to believe, just a need.

A noise, off to the right. Or perhaps a memory of a noise. Surely there was nothing alive here. There hadn't been for generations, that's what I was told as a boy.

I'd been told a lot of things as a boy. It all seemed so inconsequential then.

Monoliths and their shadows. I was stuck with that now. I could go Back, of course. Yes...Go Back. You'd think, after years of trying to forget my past, that I wouldn't be consumed by a dread of it.

Never go Back. I can't ever go Back. Well, I knew what direction that left me. Forward. So?

Heh, they weren't actual monoliths in the classical sense, of course. But the word seems to have evolved, somehow, to include these too.

Why? I should've asked, of course. Why is this tunnel of rock so…well, you know. You’ve seen it. Yes, I should've asked. But to do that, I would've have to go Back. Only they know, you see.

Stupid, of course you don't see. You couldn't know. I was there, all alone, surrounded by ever-lengthening shadows. I should have realised what that meant. But no, all I saw was shadows. Not what I should have seen.

Night was coming. I needed to reach there soon. Or, well....I'd have to go Back.

There was a fear in that place, before I drew breath. And it soaked into me then. I absorbed it through my skin, felt it in air....sensed it.

That fear took me whole. The shadows, the thousand faces I saw in my mind's eye....watching me. Hunting me.

I broke into a run. Foolish, I know. But you can never know what it's like in that place. You know life as it exist today. Bustling with the noise you find so comforting. Most importantly - you don't know what silence tastes like.

You know the word, of course. Everyone does. Some even hear it, for brief stretches. Doesn't matter. Until you've stood in that place, you've never tasted it.

And as I stood there, the fear so much a part of me I never thought I’d known anything else, I saw it. Standing alone at the end of the tunnel.

Those sails had never turned. That would imply life, and nothing seemed more foreign at that moment than life. Of course, life had to have built that mill, but it wasn’t life that had touched ground here for centuries. That place was ancient. And still I ran.

Oh yes, I ran towards it. Ran as if my life depended on it. Which, as it turned out…

The door was locked. Of course it was. If it opened, that would be too easy. That’s when it started.

That was the worst part. The fear was enough on it’s own, conceived by shadowplay and human weakness. It was insubstantial, at first. Before it started.

The howling. Faint. At first. It wasn’t getting louder as such, but it carried, with certainity bound in iron, a sense of speed.

Speed that was focused on me. There was no one else it could be directed at.

I kicked at the door with a madness consuming me. I knew, with such clarity, that I had two options. Get inside that place, or die. Blood was seeping from under my fingernails as the wood bit into my flesh.

I was scratching and pounding that door, that’s all I remember. I don’t know how long I tried to get into that mill. All I know was that the shadows stopped lengthening at some point.

Night had arrived.

And then, something happened. The howling stopped. I stopped. Everything stopped. That’s how it seemed.

Yes, that’s when I turned. I don’t think the fear went. I’ve heard tell of how people have become so fearful that it becomes part of their self.

Once it’s there, it never leaves.

That’s when I turned. The legends about that mill had been all I had thought about for years and years. In there was my redemption.

But outside there was my curse. So I turned, pressed my back against that door, and sank to the floor.

I couldn’t go forward. I could never go Back. So what do I do now?

I just exist.

You want my advice? Don't ever try and get to that place.

But you're going to, aren't you?
Of course you are.