The Way Through
As I step into the city, I admire the sun on the glass. Deep. Black. It’s hot: an overwhelming heat. It pushes. It pushes deep past the skin. Energy returned to the source.
They had built a new god. A god to step onto. Into. On. Around. But what did this mean?
They were running from death. It had all flipped. They were running into sustained pain and arranged debt. Their motives weren’t clear. Their names were all leant.
There was Portal Face. He held his eyes in his hands and twisted like a cat. And a portal. And a soul. A skull.
They had built so many new gods. So many new gods, it was painful. It pained.
Love the whip and trust the ride, he would shout.
He shouted.
We had discussed alternate personalities before. Not necessarily discussed. We had experienced them in self and in others in a previous life and had cooperatively acknowledged them.
Now was it alternate personalities or were they swapping realities. We can’t be sure is what we realized.
There was a list of rules he always spoke of. Never get in line. Avoid the free things; they cost more. If the hurdle seems too big, you’re heading in the right direction; find a way through.
If you change sizes you can enter the mazes. They’re side missions mostly. They’re also the way through.