At closer inspection this road lacks attention
The pavement is stale, the path disguised as grass
Little is welcoming, but that might be my own disinterest

A rope is fixed to a tree trunk, tethered to a stake;
I wonder what the tree did to be imprisoned so,
It appears weary by its captivity,
The tree does not even acknowledge me as I walk by,
Maybe it weeps for its release, or maybe it does not care,

Either way, I spare it not another glance
It must have deserved its fate

Now the path is clear, with wilderness abating, giving rise to a small building
Perhaps this is a place of rest, or a place of answers, or…maybe it just doesn’t matter?
I am critical of that façade,
I can smell smoke, and can see haze, and a door

The woman inside is clearing away a table,
There are the newspaper clippings,
There is scribbled writing, intricate diagrams and drawings
Some are horrific, personifications of demons perhaps.
Others are more subtle, unfathomable depictions that have rigid lines, and curved edges.

The old woman, I thought she was young and beautiful before?
She is watching me now, studying me, judging me
I return the stare, and she smiles sweetly.
She begins to comb her gray hair, which was blond but a second ago.

Why have I come here? I ask sternly
A fire is lit, at the far side of this open room, its flame azure, its sparks blood-red
The woman turns away from me,
Her fingers are tracing a pattern in the dust on the counter.
But I can’t see it.

Do not ignore me, I cry,
She turns back, her eyes have now sunken into her skull, her hair is falling out
Her withered and shriveled finger points at the counter with the image,
I step forward, and she shatters, then dissolves into dust, which is caught in the wind
The house is now open to the world, chunks of roof are missing, the door has crumbled to the ground, the fireplace is cold, no flame having warmed its stones in many years.

But it all goes unnoticed by me,
I have taken one more step forward,
And I look at the image which is now burned into the wood of the counter
My head pounds when I look at it, fear floods through my body,
I want to scream, and then I hear shrieking in my ears, but it is not me
I look around and the world has began to draw inwards, circling about me.
I am on my knees, the gusts ripping at my clothes and my hair,
The noise twists about me as the world itself shifts and swirls around me.
I hear crying, I hear the laughter, I hear the people talking,
I see the places rush by me each one so detailed, so real,
I see the faces each one reaching out to me, but I can’t understand why,

The mess of colours and sounds crash about me, my vision is blurred by there velocity as they spin faster and faster, the shrieking is unbearable, the pain pounding through me, stabbing into me…

…and then…
Stop
Nothing
Hello
Nothing

It is black,
This place
it is blank,

I don’t know what went wrong.

I made a mistake.