I got behind the wheel and watched as my vision compounded, divisions upon divisions nestling together, side-by-side. This wasn't new, not really — but it still scared me, just a little, and I knew better than to try to drive like that.
So I pocketed my keys and [[started to walk]].
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And it was fine. There were no dirt-muffled footsteps tailing me in the dark, no glowing eyes blinking at me from between the shadow-trunks lining the woods. I was stumbling and [[seeing quintuple]] at the very least, but I was stumbling away from the treeline. No sense getting [[lost in the woods]].
<center>You stare too long at your reflection in the mirror and your eyes unfocus. The image in front of you splits and doubles; four eyes spread across your face, blinking in unison.
Imagine that (link-reveal: "in reverse.")[
It's like having [[too many eyes]] all of a sudden, each of them staring at the same thing.]
<center><big><big><big><big><big>EVENING</big></big></big>
[[parking lot]]</big>
finely diner
spring</center>
Little (text-style:"blurrier")[ [[blinking eyes]]] do show up in the dark once in a while — some close to the ground, some hovering up by the low-slung branches. Raccoons and owls, [[I think]]. Little swooping bats.
You know that (text-style:"smear")[weird glow]. That green-orange tint that covers the whole eye in the dark. It's weird, but it's comforting. Less like being hunted, more like... not being [[alone->lost in the woods]].
<center>But who knows.
I've never asked, and
I've never really [[stuck around]] to check.
The other night, I figured I'd just walk somewhere and wait until I was good to drive again, but everything was closed. I didn't want to have to bum a ride or flag a taxi and leave my car behind, you know? The [[diner]] is way out there.
But it's a nice place. Well-lit. Some small tables with stark white napkins and colorful wicker chairs. Lots of booths, all done up in that dull teal upholstery every diner's always got, vinyl starting to crackle where people have been sitting for the last [[twenty or thirty years]].
The lady who owns it is always around. Older lady, but still spry. No one makes a pot roast like Jolene, and there's a lot of pot roasts left in her.
She runs a dry place, no alcohol served. I don't really like the stuff [[anyway]].
<center><big><big><big><big><big>DUSK</big></big></big>
[[finely diner]]</big>
spring</center>
"Well, look who it is. Been a while, hasn't it?"
> [[I guess it has, huh?]]
> [[Doesn't feel like it.]]
> [[Too long.]]
"You sound a little dazed. You been eating well without us?"
> [[Not really.]]
> [[Here and there.]]
> [[I've been eating. Not too well, though.]]
"Time always gets away from us like that. You been eating well without us?"
> [[Not really.]]
> [[Here and there.]]
> [[I've been eating. Not too well, though.]]
"I'll say. You been eating well without us?"
> [[Not really.]]
> [[Here and there.]]
> [[I've been eating. Not too well, though.]]
"Come on, now. You ought to take more care — let's see what we can do about that. What're you havin', dear?"
> [[Today's soup and a greek salad.]]
> [[Lasagna sounds good.]]
> [[Always the pot roast, Jo.]]
"Better than nothin', honey. Why don't you treat yourself tonight? What looks good?"
> [[Today's soup and a greek salad.]]
> [[Lasagna sounds good.]]
> [[Always the pot roast, Jo.]]
"Seems so. It's already awful late to be eating dinner. That's what they say, at least — not that I'm complaining. It's good to see you again."
> [[It's good to see you, too.]]
"All right, coming right up. Minestrone tonight!"
> [[Sounds good.]]
"Nice and hearty. That's fresh maranara, home made. The blight missed my tomatoes this year."
> [[Lucky break. Glad it went easy on you this time around.]]
"Thought you might say that. You might just be my biggest fan."
> [[I could do with some comfort food.]]
"Well, let's get you fed. What're you havin'?"
> [[Today's soup and a greek salad.]]
> [[Lasagna sounds good.]]
> [[Always the pot roast, Jo.]]
"Soup's good for the soul — and for nights like these. It's chilly out. The sky over route 38 has been drizzling for years... Well, this is a fast meal to fix. See you in a few."
[[Thanks, Jo.]]
"It's about time, I think. Finally got the last of that fouled mulch out of my garden... Things have got to be on the mend around here. Hey, a good meal should seal the deal. Should be ready in a little bit."
[[Thanks, Jo.]]
"(link-reveal: "Comin' right up...")[ You know, I really do hope you've been well. If you ever need anything, I'll be here."]
> [[Thanks, Jo.]]
<center><big><big><big><big><big>MIDNIGHT</big></big></big>
[[cauldron bridge]]</big>
spring</center>
<center>[[I woke up on the ground]].</center>
It wasn't the diner. My food was just fine, and that place has never made me sick. They wouldn't let that slide, wouldn't do that to me.
This just [[happens]] sometimes.
Like I said, my vision can be a little off. I've been getting the hang of it, but sometimes I just... drop and take [[a little rest]] now and then.
[[But I didn't hear a whimper.]]
<center><big><big><big>//The end of the world is celebrating its birthday.//</big></big></big>
"Not with a [[bang]]," they say.
Don't usually forget bits of where I've been or what I've been doing, though. But that can happen to anyone, can't it?
Sometimes you wind up in (link-reveal: "the wrong place")[ at the [[wrong time]]].
<center>I think it helps to talk about it.
{(live: 1s)[It helps]} {(live:2s)[fill in]} {(live:3s)[ [[the blanks.]]]}</center>
<center><big><big><big><big><big>LATE</big></big></big>
[[stone willow]]</big>
spring</center>
A ways past the lake shore, there's a willow tree. It's all cold, gray stone, but trunk murmurs and braids itself into a thick column, and the branches still bend in the wind.
I stopped there. I must have wanted to rest again. It just felt inviting, that tangle of roots and the [[stillness]] of the branches after a breeze had rolled by.
The roots were warm. I wanted to be held.
When I crawled away from the hollow at the base of the trunk, the sky was starting to lighten. It was less heavy and my belly was (link-reveal: "still full,")[
(//Thanks, Jo.//)]
so [[I kept on hiking.]]
<center><big><big><big><big><big>DAWN</big></big></big>
[[the overlook]]</big>
a beginning</center>
The sun was rising. It glinted off the glass scope and my hands sunk right into my pockets, [[hunting quarters]] as I scrambled up the crest of the hill.
(link-reveal:"So.")[
I woke up face down on the ground. Damp wood under my face; grit, gravel, and dirt smeared across my palms. I had two eyes again, at least, and I remember realizing I was on [[the bridge]].]
You come to it after you get off [[route 38]] — there's a [[trail]] off the shoulder you can enter if you hop the little yellow gate. It's all rusted anyway.
It rains there 24/7. For a while the water just ran off and pooled in the ditches on either side of the road, but after a while it started to flow. It was always there with nowhere to go.
Eventually it found its path. So did everyone else. The town followed where it was all trickling to and dug a huge hole. Now we have a lake.
It'll rise up over [[that bridge->the bridge]] someday, but for now it's just fine.
Maybe half a mile into the trail, and you get to the tree with the busted trunk. It's split up the middle like it ripped a seam — hit by lightning. You can still see the bolt in the trunk, trapped in there and sparking away.
Best not to get too close, but it's quite a sight at night. I remember [[staring]] at it for a while, watching the lightning arc in that open ribcage, tenfold and honeycombed.
I stared for so long that the light's negative kept strobing in my eyes even after I left. I kept walking like that for a while, just [[wandering]].
When I came to, the place was soundless, like a vacuum. No mosquitos whining, no peepers singing their nightsong, no owls, no raccoons, no bats. No little gleaming eyes, no one winking in the dark.
Lights hung overhead, though — a string of them hung between two poles on either end of the bridge. No moths swarmed around the little bulbs; their light was brilliant and unobscured.
<center>I was [[the only moth]] out that night.</center>
It can't have taken much time to get to the bridge. I remember closing my eyes; I remember the hollow sound of the boards beneath my feet.
(text-style:"blur")[And then it was [[lights out]].]
I got back up after a while. Probably should have started back the way I came, but I had already gone halfway across that bridge. Why not [[cross]]?
My mind felt clear. It seemed like there was another [[light->late]] to chase if I could just press on a little further.
There was a hill. A small one, but it took me a good while to climb. The grass kept slithering under my feet, not green but a dull teal like diner upholstery, and I grabbed onto it when I almost slipped and fell in the gathering dew.
I still have [[dirt]] under my nails.
<center>[[I made it, though.]]</center>
I had one left — change from the diner, I bet. (Thanks, Jo.) I held it like it was worth a million bucks, slid it into the viewfinder, and [[settled in]].
It was more like a kaleidoscope than a telescope. Those things are all glass and marble mingling with glinting metal. They're prismatic. They [[capture light]] inside of them and it never splits them open, just beams it back into your eyes and condenses it somewhere in your mind.
I stood there, hunched over the viewfinder, watching the sun bleed its light into a violet sky. I stood until I had to sit down, still breathing hard from the climb, hands wet and grubby. [[Even then]], I kept staring at the sunrise.
<center>And I realized what [[day]] it was.</center>
The sun flickered and stars erupted into the sky again, just for a moment: an eclipse in an instant, [[like blowing out a candle]].
My vision doubled, tripled, unfocused, and I watched the sun return tenfold and honeycombed.
<center>The sign by the cash register reads, //<big><big>"[[Thank you]]!"//</big></big> in bold neon lettering. They're welcome.
("//Come again,//" implores the smaller sign beneath it.
I always do.)</center>
<center>You're not seeing them; you're seeing through them. You're looking at the same images copied and transposed endlessly, and they all lurch when you move your head.
You've gotta figure out which view is [[real->started to walk]].</center>