Life's a Game for the Living [Board Game Plot]

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O B S E R V A T I O N S

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D U N C A N ▲ B O W E R S - F O X -journal entry #5 start time: 7:53 on the morning of February 21st I had not spent the previous night in the familiarity of my own bed. No, I spent it on the hard ground next to a girl that I barely knew. However, even with her hard shell and few words, she had been more accepting than my family ever had. There was no warmth besides our own bodies to shield us from the cold night, although it wasn’t near as rough as I had planned for. The signs of spring were starting to peak through the gently snow covered ground, and the small patches of grass that could be seen through the pure white were a welcome sight. I had done most of the talking for both of us, rambling away about my family and my journals and whatever whim of a thought sprang to my mind, whereas her words were scarce, but more important than mine ever could have been. She spoke with preciseness, each word a cannon within itself, but mine only leave dents, little marks in the steel wall that surrounds her. I could never truly force myself upon her, for her walls are stronger than my offense, her military much more advanced than my sticks and stones. She didn’t seem to resent me, however, for she had not had much of a protest to my sleeping close by, asking questions every few minutes when the silence became too much to bear. But however much the silence bothered me but not her, the night passed, and the morning sun brought about a new light in the terms of her features. Her features were defined, especially in the early light, nothing soft about her to be found. I had nudged her awake when I could no longer contain the feelings of boredom that crept into my legs and worked their way up continuously through my body. I was nothing but fidgety, pacing around and fiddling with my hands until she had groggily pulled herself to her feet. We had taken to the back paths from which I had entered the day before, turning left and right and back again to a destination that I did not know. There wasn’t much out here besides the overgrown grass and the rusting metal of an old, abandoned factory. We left it for the moment being, and I mentally noted down the way we had got there, because this was something I definitely wanted to look into further than just a superficial glance of outdoor features. I strained my neck to watch it as we continued walking, until I noticed her pace had quickened, causing me to jog a bit to catch up. She seemed to know where we were going better than I did, and that struck me as strange, considering I was showing her where I had called home. Home. It was a word I had never been able to relate with, a phrase with a hollow meaning where there should be depth and love. When we got within eyeshot of the front windows, I stopped dead in my tracks, putting my hand out to silently tell her to follow suit. I didn’t want to stay here long, since the whole point of me spending the night with her in the alley was for the purpose of avoiding this place entirely. As I began to see the shadows of my brothers flickering behind the panes of glass, I quickly turned my attention back to the path from which we had just come. “Tweed, let’s just go. This is all you wanted to see right? I mean, there was that—that factory, yeah, let’s just leave.” I didn’t even bother to wait for a response before turning on my heel. I didn’t bother to check if she was still following me—I knew she was. I didn’t ask her for the directions that we needed in order to get back to the factory we had found earlier, since I had already written down the instructions in my mind. Right, left, right, right. The worn outer features that had seemed blurry when we passed them earlier now seemed crystal clear, from each piece of rust to each missing pane of glass that would, in a perfect world, fill the couple of windows that cut into the front of the square building. I had to be careful not to cut my hands on the rusted hinges that had thrown the door off its path. To be fair, it made getting into the building next to nothing in terms of a challenge, and as soon as I pushed the door open further than it had been stuck for who knows how long, rays of light began to stream in and cover everything in a warm glow of yellow. The ceilings stretched up further than I could see, the once shining lights now a dead, dull gray. I had almost forgotten about Tweed, only her footsteps behind me reminding me that she was still following. The main room we were standing in was large enough to send an echo across the room, and this was affirmed as I expressed my excitement in a way that was nothing short of childlike. “Whoa, Tweed, look over here. Or here, wow, this could be ancient!” I was scampering from place to place, pointing out little details that as they jumped out at me. After making a through scan of the massive room, I made my way back to her, standing only inches away, my eyes looking only slightly downward to meet hers. “We could make this a castle. You and me. This could be the kingdom I’ve been looking for.”

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▲ T E M P L A T E B Y C H E L S E Y ▲

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[presto] t w e e d; district eight x seventeen [/presto]

She didn’t really mind being with the stranger, Duncan. Even though she hardly spoke to him, he provided company that she had long since forgotten what it felt like. It was reassuring, particularly at night, to have someone else there should someone try to rob her of what few possessions she had. She wasn’t using him, no; instead she allowed herself to accept and tolerate him. Duncan didn’t do very much. He wrote a lot and spoke of a family she subconsciously longed for. The conversations reminded her of her mother and she turned away from him whenever a pang of pain struck her chest. Determined as ever, Tweed did her best to keep a steely façade and not let burnt out desires show. Duncan was free to dispense personal information but she was far more hesitant, locking it up and breaking the key. No one needed to know – no one had the right to. Following him around the back alleys felt more like chasing a hyperactive puppy. He turned this way and that, right and left, and even though she knew these alleys she found herself relying solely on him for guidance. It annoyed Tweed how she’d already forgotten the path there. She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and was blatant with the discontent she felt for herself in the moment. A strategist should never be so easily led astray. And yet Tweed still found herself following him, one moment scowling at the dinginess of the concrete and the next mesmerized by how a tuft of grass or patch of little flowers had managed to grow in a crack of the alley. She came close a few times to voicing her feelings but bottled them up, refusing to break her silence. Keeping them to herself, she continued to follow, startled and surprised when they came upon a house. It didn’t look very fancy but people certainly lived there. A homey feeling radiated from the worn boards and she paused, caught off guard. This is a home? Duncan’s home? Strangely curious, she started to turn to ask him something when he spoke up first. He rambled again, saying they should leave and he did, not waiting for her. Tweed looked after him and cast a cautious look back at the house, watching the silhouettes of figures moving about inside, and then turned to follow him. How strange, she thought, that the sight of his home should bring about this reaction. However, it didn’t surprise her. Tweed knew full well that seeing her own home would cause the exact same thing to happen. That was why she left: to get away and be rid of the place that triggered so many awful memories to spring forth. It was painful, too painful, and for a moment she felt much closer to Duncan than she had before. She knew where they were headed this time; she had the path memorized and was already preparing herself to map out alternative routes to and from there, should anything happen. The factory wasn’t very much with its broken windows and littered exterior and she watched as Duncan pried the door open, her eyes lingering on the muscles that tightened and flexed underneath his shirt until a loud screek sounded and the door fell open. Inside was cavernous. Tweed followed him in and was instantly abandoned as he ran around, exploring the place far faster than she ever would have. The excitement radiating off of him was contagious and she, too, felt it bubbling up inside her, nearly prompting a smile from her stoic face. She looked around, admiring the archaic beauty that the warehouse held, watching millions upon millions of dust particles dance and sway in the light that streamed through broken windows; chains hung down from the ceiling and were decorated with silky and thick spider webs; all in all it was amazing and it felt safe. Duncan’s return pulled her from the alluring enticement and he spoke feverishly, almost giddily. She looked up to meet his gaze. ”We could make this a castle. You and me.” The sentence held much more meaning for her than he probably knew. We, you, and me. Tweed knew the dangers of attaching oneself to another but only one word came to mind: ours. Our castle, our safe haven, our kingdom. And despite how little she knew about Duncan, Tweed felt safe. Standing inside a warehouse in front of the boy with messy hair and an idiotic grin – suddenly it was natural. It could certainly be a home, one that neither of them would want to run away from. “Our home.”

table by anzie <3

[Deleted]

A break from that idiot felt euphoric, but terrifying all the same. His apparent dislike for Axton bled through the thin sheets of fabric that was our household, every day Elverum managed to add fire to the burning hatred like the other boy struck it against his cigarettes. The question revolving around my head filed the same, because when I came back would a house still in stand or sit like charred ash from a cremation. Both boys were trustworthy, except around each other, since the tension is as easily seen as a pink dress at a funeral.

Still, this estranged forest felt less at peace than the house that was always too quiet for comfort, every narrow gap between the trees that fit like family led me further into a private green wonderland. It felt almost threatening, as if it was challenging me to find my way out without losing control. A unique spiral of floral avenues venture me to an empty lot of grass where nothing but fauna dared to cross. Maybe I could rule here instead, instead of teaching wild animals, the deer chasing each other like children would be simpler subjects.

Through incomplete veering aimlessly, the detour off my scenic empire brought me to a rundown factory, with each window busted like the frames of forgotten glasses. Paint seemed to be scraped off in sections implying either murder or a teenage heartbreak, while the wallpaper inside attempted to flee the scene like ghosts vanquishing off the walls. Each section of the setting felt like it connected like a puzzle to represent the home seemingly in a different planet, instead, the warehouse brought itself to be surreal, almost like I fell through a worm hole instead of a forest. Each palm of mine quivered with the feeling of losing the path home, vibrating like a clock alarming me that my home fails to exist anymore. Something happened, it must have, while I was away Elverum must have gotten reaped, or Axton went into a coma because his lungs could not grasp enough air.

As a child, Elverum use to ask me all these questions about what happens when people die. Usually my answers were equipped but nevertheless untactful, such as "I don't know" or "I don't care." One time he asked if he sit there and feel nothing, that we embrace the dirt and bugs attempt to devour us and our sanity, and I responded with "That's what living is." He never asked again after that, and my mother grounded me; however, she was the one grounded by reality, that death is some great relief only cherished by those who seek it.

The only thing I seek is a way home, for notification if it still exists after the minutes or hour I was away. You're over reacting, well oh well, it does not count as over reacting until I know the answer. My hands met the steel bars that was a ladder system back in its day, but now say as decor for Villa Decomposition. After breaking my gaze through the cracked frame of a window, my hands continue to shiver like cold puppies as I ascend.

Once landing on the strip of cracking cement serving as a covering, my hand burrows into a pocket to retrieve a cigarette that used to find home in Axton's collection. Hell, if I can't find home neither can it. A lighter I stole from a convent store earlier ignited the stick, like a match to glitter, and for a second I watched it like a show. As if the fire tasting paper-wrapped cancer was the best source of entertainment, but it was calming, like therapeutic needles. My knees break next to the skylight of the ceiling covered in a film of dust, decay and dirt.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Stop.

Elverum rarely let's me smoke in the house, he says it makes me seem like Axton, or in other words, a dead beat who's wasting his last breathes. Luckily for me, us two are close enough to where I do not have to panic about setting the house on fire in anger with him. Fire. My palms begin to whimper again, and it becomes harder to breath, like my heart is stuck in my throat instead of air.

No, no, he's fine, they're both fine, it's going to be ok. Instead of seeing the house burn down, I bring my eyes to stare into the sun, the only fire burning that is proved. The sun is real, just over the tree line, I know it because it is there. Therefore my house still exists, I know it because it must be there. So I must also exist, because I know I am here.

It must be easy to know I'm here when that is all I have to control.