Between Worlds P.1

*Once, I heard him say: “What a waste.” When I looked at him, he was looking up at the night sky.* [[Wake up.]]

You rub your face and clear your eyes as best you can, blinking to adjust to the light. Blessed once more with your oft squandered gift of sight, you survey your surroundings. Honestly, it's unimpressive. You're in some kind of waiting room or foyer, sparsly furnished with the couch and a handful of lounge chairs, and a low table with a handful of pamphlets on it. There's more literature on the walls; posters and signs, all with an official govermental look to them. Everything in the room is some kind of beige or seafoam green. Ugh. [[Great. Now what?]]

You consider your options. After a moment, you decide... [[It's time to leave.]] [[May as well look around, read some of these pamphlets.]] [[Check yourself, see if you're hurt.]]

This couch is very uncomfortable and hard. You feel terrible and don't really want to wake up, but between the unyeilding foam your face is pressed against, and the harsh white light pricking at the corner of your eye, you figure at the very least that there must be somewhere else more comfortable to sleep. You manage to sit up on the couch, bleary eyed and feeling like hell, as though you just ran a marathon or had the tar beaten out of you. [[Where the hell are you?]]

There's a door. No windows, you notice, but a door is a good start. You get to your feet with a groan and go to it. There's no handle, just a smooth piece of metal where the latch would be. Supposing it might be unlocked, you give it a push. Perhaps unsurprisingly, it doesn't budge. "Please knock when you are ready to leave." Reads the sign, situated on the door. You manage to focus your eyes on it on the first try. Hmm. It seems you managed to get into more trouble than you thought. [[It occurs to you that a room with no windows and one unopenable door is technically a cell.]]

The idea of reading anything right now doesn't exactly thrill you, but you figure someone left all this infomation lying around for a reason. The pamphlets on the table are all depressingly familiar in their style, designed to say very little and take up an entire piece of twofold paper doing it. "Betwixt, the place to be!" "Your new life in Betwixt." "Department of Arrivals." "Elemental fundementals." Someone must think this is funny. You reach for the new life one, wincing as you lift your arm. On its front is a friendly looking drawing of a flame. You flip it open, expecting the worst. "All new arrivals in Betwixt are housed by the council until such time that they find or create a place of their own to stay." You're not sure what to make of this information. Despite how much your head hurts, you're pretty sure you already live somewhere, and as such you won't be requiring this service. The text continues, under a cartoon of a bed which fills a generous amount of space. "Fun fact: Over 500 people have been sucessfully housed by the council since its inception!" Super. On the inside of the cover, there's a list of places with accomidation available. You don't recognise any of the names. Unfolding the internal flap, you reveal the rest of the body of text. "Your application for accomadation, as well as idenfitication documentation, is already in progress. If you have any questions, please ask the attendant, or direct your inquiries to the Department of Arrivals office, 1, Hub Street, CBD, Betwixt." You fold the pamphlet back up, checking the back, just in case. It's blank. [[Well, that was incredibly unhelpful.]]

Who names a city Betwixt? You don't have the energy to think about it right now, so instead, you decide... [[That really hurt. Better make sure you're not injured too badly.]] [[However you got here, it's probably time to go.]] [[There's a sign on the wall that says 'New Arrival Checklist'. You should check that out.]]

"New Arrival Checklist". The sign is situated in the middle of the wall, designed to grab your attention. Too bad you've not been in a mood to have your attention grabbed, not to mention the effect is ruined by the dozen extra signs that turned the wall into a confusing patchwork. The whole endeavour reeked of design by committe. Still. "Before you call for the attendant, you should orient yourself properly. Remain calm, and follow this list." Remain calm, it said. You supposed that was generally good advice, but why on earth- "Step one. Inspect your new body and familiarise yourself with it." Wait *what*? You frantically check yourself over, but you're still you, as far as you can tell. Right? Why wouldn't you be? What could possibly have happened? How did you get here? You wrack your brain, trying to remember where yesterday left off. You remember... Something. [[Beep.]]

There's a door. No windows, you notice, but a door is a good start. You get to your feet with a groan and go to it. There's no handle, just a smooth piece of metal where the latch would be. Supposing it might be unlocked, you give it a push. Perhaps unsurprisingly, it doesn't budge. "Please knock when you are ready to leave." Reads the sign, situated on the door. There's lots of words and not a huge amount of useful information in this room, it seems. You'll try calling for help in a minute, once you're sure that you're actually in trouble. For now... [[hurt2<-Moving around hurts. You should probably make sure you didn't break something.]] [[There's a sign on the wall that says 'New Arrival Checklist'. You should check that out.<-Maybe it's time to check out that checklist you spotted earlier.]]

You grit your teeth and check in underneath your shirt. Yikes. That is a nasty bruise you're sporting, right in the middle of your chest. Looks like you got hit by something, like a ball. Or maybe a meteorite, given the sickly looking yellow and purple sun adorning your front. Your back feels stiff and sore as well, but you still seem to have all of your fingers and toes. You're okay. Maybe a little overweight, but who isn't these days? You don't really remember when you injured yourself. Rather than dwell on it, you decide... [[Enough, it's time to go.->leave3]] [[There's a sign on the wall that says 'New Arrival Checklist'. You should check that out.<-Maybe it's time to check out that checklist you spotted earlier.]]

You don't really remember when you injured yourself. Rather than dwell on it, you decide... [[It's time to leave.->leave2]] [[Maybe some of these pamphlets will take your mind off of things.->pamphlets2]] [[There's a sign on the wall that says 'New Arrival Checklist'. You should check that out.]]

There's a door. No windows, you notice, but a door is a good start. You get to your feet, wincing and groaning as the bruise on your chest complains, and make your way to the door. There's no handle, just a smooth piece of metal where the latch would be. Supposing it might be unlocked, you give it a push. Perhaps unsurprisingly, it doesn't budge. "Please knock when you are ready to leave." Reads the sign, situated on the door. You manage to focus your eyes on it on the first try. Hmm. It seems you managed to get into more trouble than you thought. While you're reading things, though... [[You guess you'll browse through the pamphlets on the table. You guess.->pamphlets4]] [[There's a sign on the wall that says 'New Arrival Checklist'. You should check that out.<-Maybe it's time to check out that checklist you spotted earlier.]]

The idea of reading anything right now doesn't exactly thrill you, but you figure someone left all this infomation lying around for a reason. The pamphlets on the table are all depressingly familiar in their style, designed to say very little and take up an entire piece of twofold paper doing it. "Betwixt, the place to be!" "Your new life in Betwixt." "Department of Arrivals." "Elemental fundementals." Someone must think this is funny. You reach for the new life one, bending forward a little to save yourself from having to extend your arm too far. On its front is a friendly looking drawing of a flame. You flip it open, expecting the worst. "All new arrivals in Betwixt are housed by the council until such time that they find or create a place of their own to stay." You're not sure what to make of this information. Despite how much your head hurts, you're pretty sure you already live somewhere, and as such you won't be requiring this service. The text continues, under a cartoon of a bed which fills a generous amount of space. "Fun fact: Over 500 people have been sucessfully housed by the council since its inception!" Super. On the inside of the cover, there's a list of places with accomidation available. You don't recognise any of the names. Unfolding the internal flap, you reveal the rest of the body of text. "Your application for accomadation, as well as idenfitication documentation, is already in progress. If you have any questions, please ask the attendant, or direct your inquiries to the Department of Arrivals office, 1, Hub Street, CBD, Betwixt." You fold the pamphlet back up, checking the back, just in case. It's blank. Rather than getting frustrated at the waste of paper, you consider your options. [[It's time to leave.->leave3]] [[There's a sign on the wall that says 'New Arrival Checklist'. You should check that out.]]

There's a door. No windows, you notice, but a door is a good start. You get to your feet, wincing and groaning as the bruise on your chest complains, and make your way to the door. There's no handle, just a smooth piece of metal where the latch would be. Supposing it might be unlocked, you give it a push. Perhaps unsurprisingly, it doesn't budge. "Please knock when you are ready to leave." Reads the sign, situated on the door. There's lots of words and not a huge amount of useful information in this room, it seems. [[You should probably check the checklist before you try to attract anyone's attention.->There's a sign on the wall that says 'New Arrival Checklist'. You should check that out.]]

You grit your teeth and check in underneath your shirt. Yikes. That is a nasty bruise you're sporting, right in the middle of your chest. Looks like you got hit by something, like a ball. Or maybe a meteorite, given the sickly looking yellow and purple sun adorning your front. Your back feels stiff and sore as well, but you still seem to have all of your fingers and toes. You're okay. Maybe a little overweight, but who isn't these days? [[You're fit to pound on the door, but before you do that you should probably check out that list.->There's a sign on the wall that says 'New Arrival Checklist'. You should check that out.]]

You try not to dwell on it. Instead... [[Moving hurt more than you were expecting it to. Maybe you should check that.->hurt3]] [[Maybe some of these pamphlets will take your mind off of things.->pamphlets3]] [[There's a sign on the wall that says 'New Arrival Checklist'. You should check that out.]]

The idea of reading anything right now doesn't exactly thrill you, but you figure someone left all this infomation lying around for a reason. The pamphlets on the table are all depressingly familiar in their style, designed to say very little and take up an entire piece of twofold paper doing it. "Betwixt, the place to be!" "Your new life in Betwixt." "Department of Arrivals." "Elemental fundementals." Someone must think this is funny. You reach for the new life one, bending forward a little to save yourself from having to extend your arm too far. On its front is a friendly looking drawing of a flame. You flip it open, expecting the worst. "All new arrivals in Betwixt are housed by the council until such time that they find or create a place of their own to stay." You're not sure what to make of this information. Despite how much your head hurts, you're pretty sure you already live somewhere, and as such you won't be requiring this service. The text continues, under a cartoon of a bed which fills a generous amount of space. "Fun fact: Over 500 people have been sucessfully housed by the council since its inception!" Super. On the inside of the cover, there's a list of places with accomidation available. You don't recognise any of the names. Unfolding the internal flap, you reveal the rest of the body of text. "Your application for accomadation, as well as idenfitication documentation, is already in progress. If you have any questions, please ask the attendant, or direct your inquiries to the Department of Arrivals office, 1, Hub Street, CBD, Betwixt." You fold the pamphlet back up, checking the back, just in case. It's blank. [[Everything in this room is a waste of time. You're almost excited to see how this checklist will contribute to that.->There's a sign on the wall that says 'New Arrival Checklist'. You should check that out.]]

You grit your teeth and check in underneath your shirt. Yikes. That is a nasty bruise you're sporting, right in the middle of your chest. Looks like you got hit by something, like a ball. Or maybe a meteorite, given the sickly looking yellow and purple sun adorning your front. Your back feels stiff and sore as well, but you still seem to have all of your fingers and toes. You're okay. Maybe a little overweight, but who isn't these days? [[You suppose there's no point delaying any longer. Who knows, maybe the pamphlets will have some useful information in them?->pamphlets4]] [[Maybe it's time to check out that checklist you spotted earlier.->There's a sign on the wall that says 'New Arrival Checklist'. You should check that out.]]

*“Message. Received. Wednesday. 11th. At. 9. 21. AM.” Beep. “Hey kid, listen. You know that package I was having you hold onto for me? I finally found a buyer. Unfortunately, I can’t get back into town for a few days, so, I want you to drop it off for me. Uh… The address is 32 Burner Lane, go down the stairs, it’s on the left. Can’t miss it. Half an hour walk, getcha out of the apartment, it’ll do you a world of good. Message me when you wake up, I wanna make sure this is done today. Later.” Beep. [[The robot starts to tell you your options for saving or deleting the message, but you hang up before it has a chance to rattle off the list.]]*

*Should have written the address down. You’ve walked a half a block past the place, and whatever is in this package is heavy as hell. From what you know of Alex, the odds are about even on the contents being either some kind of antique weapon, the holy grail, or a literal hunk of lead that he’s making you carry across town for his own amusement. Come to think of it, nazi gold is pretty heavy too, isn’t it? For about the hundredth time today, you consider and weigh your curiosity against how pissed Alex would be if he found out you peeked. The scales tilt in favour of avoiding another 20 minute yelling marathon over the phone, yet again. Not that he’s your boss, but you just don’t feel like dealing with it right now. [[Also, he is your boss. Kinda.]]*

*You’re not an official employee, but he’s always getting you to do errands and run around town for him, meeting people and collecting things for small cash allowances and ‘forgetting’ to collect rent from the apartment you live in, which he owns. The whole situation was just a little crooked, but if that meant not having to flip burgers from 10 pm until 9 am, you’ll take it. You pause your internal monologue long enough to notice the street sign. Burner Ln. Brought to you by the Silver Shore City Council. It’s a winding back alley, cutting down the middle of the block. The afternoon is rapidly becoming evening, draping the whole place with the long cold shadows that only gigantic concrete skyscrapers can produce. You hike your jacket a little closer. Probably should have gotten out of the apartment a little earlier than 3:30. You never could adequately explain to someone else how breakfast, a shower, getting dressed, and then lunch could take a person four hours, and yet you managed it routinely on days where there was no pressing reason to be somewhere in a timely fashion. [[Or perhaps, you just didn’t want to explain it again.]]*

*Whatever. You count the doors and mailboxes as you walk down the lane, shifting the box under your free arm to give your other arm a small break. The trick was proving less effective each time. Where the doorway marked 32 should be, there’s a nondescript stairwell instead. Wandering over, you have a look and confirm that it seems like an ideal place to murder someone. The light that should have been illuminating the stairs was broken. [[You spend a moment rehearsing the argument with Alex.]]*

*‘No, you see, I did go out to deliver it, but I got spooked by a broken light so I walked home instead.’ It sounds weak, even inside the privacy of your own head, so you take a deep breath and walk down into the shade, reminding yourself that horror movies aren’t real. It’s even colder down here. You take a moment at the bottom of the stairs, letting your eyes adjust. Seems like there’s a light around the corner, pretty fair way off. The tunnel must go under the road. Weird, but this city’s built on top of itself like a jenga tower, full of odd nooks and crannys. Hardly the strangest thing you’ve come across while wandering around. [[As you’re walking towards the reflected light, it goes out.]]*

*You blink in the darkness, trying not to lose your cool. You fumble with your spare hand and pull out your phone, dazzling yourself with it for a moment before managing to turn on the flashlight, suddenly painfully aware of the precious battery charge you spent playing games on it in the hours prior. There’s no monsters or anything, just a dull concrete hallway and the faint muted sounds of late afternoon in the city, somewhere above you. Fuck this noise. Alex can deliver it himself, you didn’t sign up for any of this Slim Man crap. You turn around and blink in surprise. You’re greeted with a dull concrete hallway with some stairs at the end, but there’s no light visible coming from down the stairs. You’ve only been down here a minute, it’s still daylight. Doing your best to remain composed, you conspicuously don’t run back the way you came, forcing yourself not to look over your shoulder. Maybe it’s just overcast. [[Stay calm.]]*

*The stairs, when you reach the foot of them, seem to connect to the same street, but it’s really dark up there. You take them two at a time, trying to remember if you read about any eclipses happening today. You’re gonna feel real stupid about getting this spooked once you figure out what rational, reasonable explanation there is for all of this. You notice that there’s no background noise. It’s as if… Outside the pool of light being cast by your phone, barely illuminating the building on the other side of the lane, the rest of the city is empty. Wait, no. [[You spot someone on the sidewalk and sigh audibly with relief.]]*

*“Hey, it gets dark real quick around here, right? This winter is gonna be brutal.” The figure lets out a single, breathy chuckle. Not much of a conversationalist. “Hey, listen, do you know they guy in 23? All the lights down there are busted, it’s dangerous.” “I know. I like the dark.” Creepy. The crawling sense of unease, temporarily banished by the sight of another person, begins to slide back under your skin. “Oh, it’s uh, your place? Well, I have this for you, from-” “Yes, and not a minute too soon. I’ve been waiting a long time.” “Oh, I, yeah it’s late, I had a bunch of… Important… Stuff…” You falter as he walks closer, into the feeble light cast by your phone and its inadequate flashlight app. The light isn’t reflecting off of him. You can make out his hoodie and jeans, but the face is only shadows. The eyes are wrong. White. You’re not sure how to describe it. “I’ve waited longer than you could possibly imagine. But...” He’s still a few paces away, but it sounds like he’s whispering right into your ear. “You’ll do nicely.” His… It’s cold white eyes are fixed on you. It feels like the thing is breathing down your ne- A shadow in the shape of a hand pushed its way out of your sternum. As the shock sets in, you suppose the looming sense of presence behind you wasn’t just the darkness. [[It’s odd, the hand sticking out of your chest appears to be holding something.]]*

You clutch at your chest, trying not to hyperventilate. You remember it. You remember, well, the only word you can find for it is 'dying'. Reliving the memory was not pleasnt. You don't feel dead, at least, although you're not sure how being dead is supposed to feel now that you think about it. Best not to dwell on it. You've been doing entirely too much dwelling, lately. [[It's time to leave.->exit]]

Thank you for playing Between Worlds Part 1! If you enjoyed it, or found any typos, or perhaps both, let me know at [email protected] ! More to come, hopefully.