Page 7
Story: We Used to Live Here
You have to hide…
She scrambles through the dark. Pushing through branches, weaving around trees. Behind her, voices call out, shouting, searching. They speak words she recognizes but doesn’t understand. Sweeps of light cut through the woods, frantic. If they find her, they will drag her back to some terrible labyrinth. She trips, tumbling through dirt, branches, thorns. She crashes into a stony basin and clambers to her feet. Keep moving. Keep running. They are almost upon her, light throwing shadows, contorted, flickering. She picks up speed, breaks into a clearing, and lurches to a stop at the edge of a cliff. Hundreds of feet below, shallow water, jagged rocks. She looks back. The pursuers are near, fighting through the thicket. There is nowhere else to go.
She jumps.
The ground rushes up, eager to meet her. In one quick and terrible snap—everything turns to nothing.
A pitch-black void.
Once they’re in, they never leave…
The phrase repeats in her head, flitting with the singsong rhythm of a deranged limerick.
Once they’re in, they never leave…
A pale blue light forms in the distance.
Once they’re in, they never—