Sweat Like Drops of Blood

I pull into the desolate parking lot just as the setting sun turns the sky a hideous orange and bathes the land in hazy unreality. The Townshend Shopping Center looms overhead: four stories of glass and white steel crowning the horizon like the Coliseum of Rome. A husk of its former self. Why [[my brother]] would transfer here is beyond me. I try to park as close to the mall as I can, but it’s not close enough. I step out of the car, feeling like an antelope on the open savannah, surrounded by lions. I take a deep breath to steady my nerves and look towards the entrance. The doors are full of broken glass and wooden boards, looking like the jagged and broken teeth of some gigantic beast. Between me and the entrance stand three teenagers astride bicycles. They eye me listlessly. I approach them, [[nervous]], and pray they ignore me. “Excuse me.” No such luck. One of the boys approaches me with an outstretched hand. “You got a dollar?” I… [[…give him some money.]] [[…shake my head and move on.]]

I hand him a crumpled ten-dollar bill. It’s more than I would like to give, but I hope that he’ll take it as a bribe to leave me alone. “Hey,” no such luck. “Where are you going?” I… [[…say, "the mall."]] [[…shake my head and move on.]]

The teenagers watch me as I walk away. Thankfully, they do not call out to me again. But I’m not home free yet. An old white man sits on a bench just beside the entrance. His face is twisted in a hideous scowl. Whether the sun is in his eyes or he is just full of hate, I cannot say. His eyes follow me from beneath narrow lids and I feel even more like an antelope in the lion’s sights. I suddenly miss my awkward encounter with the teenagers behind me. Under such an oppressive stare, I decide to… [[…ignore him and keep going.]] [[…stare right back.]]

I steel myself against his cold glare and push towards the entrance, gazing forward. Mercifully, he says nothing as I pass him and enter the mall. The floor of the atrium is decorated with a mosaic depicting a cartoon serpent: its eyes sparkling, its mouth wide open, and its lips curled in a friendly smile. The tip of its tail rests between its gaping jaws. I idly wonder what it would do if it accidentally bit its tail. I assume this is some sort of mascot for the mall. I step around the mosaic and [[enter the mall proper.]]

I straighten up and send his steely gaze right back at him in a false show of bravado. He is completely unaffected. His eyes continue to follow me until I am finally forced to break eye contact. Mercifully, he says nothing as I pass him and enter the mall. The floor of the atrium is decorated with a mosaic depicting a cartoon serpent: its eyes sparkling, its mouth wide open, and its lips curled in a friendly smile. The tip of its tail rests between its gaping jaws. I idly wonder what it would do if it accidentally bit its tail. I assume this is some sort of mascot for the mall. I step around the mosaic and [[enter the mall proper.]]

I am met by the sound of 80s pop tunes over the [[crackling speaker system.]] The lights in this section of the mall don’t seem to be working either, as I can only see a single fluorescent light illuminating the otherwise dark hallway. This wing stretches for about 100 feet before opening up into a wider area. The storefronts that line either side of the hall are all uniformly [[shuttered.]] There is a directory just ahead. I… [[…check the directory.]] [[…press on.]]

(font:"Times")[           F               Yu     R       S              R   ENTS SE E                3RD FLOOR O SEW   ES             F RNITURE OYS         S ICS      F OOR   O ER 1ST FLOOR S ORTSW     N ERIE                    NS    EWELRY    OSIE Y               OTTER           RS LA IE       S REA Y TO      E     Y       NER 2ND INF NT      O T ODDLERS                  M            R       YO FOR     S O   IN E S EIN       S OR] The directory is an old-fashioned black felt display with white lettering affixed. I don’t think it’s going to do me much good. I… [[…press on.]]

I press deeper into the bowels of the shopping mall. Suddenly the mall opens up, and I can feel the full weight of the four-story mall pressing down on me. The mall is roughly octagonal in shape and wraps around an inner courtyard. Through enormous panes of glass, I can make out the branches of a dead tree towering over the center of the courtyard. The mall itself rises in staggered tiers up four levels, with the majority of stores lined up along the outer edge of the octagon. There are a few lights on, but they are washed out by the overwhelming orange light of the setting sun. I find I have to squint to even take in my surroundings. Something about the sheer size of this space makes me shiver. There is just so much EVERYTHING all around me. As I try to get my bearings, I am reminded of [[something from childhood.]]

I had to practically beg the receptionist at Acedia Realty to tell me where Godot had transferred. He apparently transferred a little over a year ago, which is also the last time that Mother or I had heard from him. [[Back|Intro]]

I hope they don’t think my nervousness is a result of their skin color. They’re bored teenagers, strangers, in a small town I’ve never been to and, besides, I’m always nervous. [[Back|Intro]]

It’s none of his business, but I have a nasty habit of answering questions put to me. He looks at me, confused. “What do you want to go there for?” It’s an odd question, and I look at him, puzzled. What does one go to shopping malls for? This conversation has already gone on far longer than I’m comfortable with, so finally I just… [[…shake my head and move on.]]

The speakers are in dire need of repair, as the volume randomly shifts from whisper-quiet to bone-rattling-ly loud, accompanied by a cacophony of static, with no warning or pattern to mark the shifts. My already tight nerves are at risk of snapping. [[Back|enter the mall proper.]]

There is what looks to be an old Radio Shack, as well as a Nokia Store, and what I can only guess was some kind of mom and pop hobby shop at one point. All that remains of them are a few faded signs and empty displays [[Back|enter the mall proper.]]

We were shopping for clothes, I think, at a mall a lot like this one. I was holding my mother’s hand, and Godot was running ahead and peering at all the new toys in the windows. She was tired of telling him to slow down so now she just let him run where he wanted, as long as he remained within sight. I told my mother I was thirsty and she asked me if I could wait. I said I could, so she told me I should wait. I waited for half an hour. “Hey Mom,” shouted Godot. “I’m going to the food court, ok?” And he ran, before mother could answer. “Godot!” my mother cried and let go of my hand, chasing after him. I tried to keep up, but I tripped over my own legs. When I got up again, I couldn’t see mom or Godot anymore. [[“Mommy?”]]

I called out. But she did not reappear. I started to walk through the crowd, searching. There were people everywhere. [[“MOMMY?”]]

I started to jog, trying to pick my mother’s face out of the crowd. [[“MOMMY!?”]]

Why do all adults look the same from the waist down? I called out, my voice hoarse from thirst and panic. [[“MOMMY!!?”]]

I remember my heart was beating so hard. I was starting to get dizzy from scanning the crowd. My throat hurt from yelling so much while thirsty. I shouldn’t have said I could wait. [[“MOOOMMMYYY!!!”]]

But no one came. I stopped running and started to cry. The crowd turned fuzzy through my tears. Even as I cried, I tried to remember what my mother told me I should do if I ever got lost. But she had never told me anything. So I stood, and I cried, and I waited for a sign. [[Why am I remembering this?]]

I shake my head, clearing the memory from my head. This is not helping. I look at my surroundings. Seems the mall continues to the left and right. No matter which way I pick, I’ll just end up back here eventually. I’ll need to get directions if I’m ever going to find Godot. I pick a direction at random and [[head deeper in.]]

There is an elderly man here, [[sitting on a bench.]] There is also a middle-aged woman standing in front of a shuttered [[Victoria’s Secret.]] Like everything else so far, all the stores here are shuttered up. Up ahead I see a crowded area that looks like a food court. I [[enter the food court.]]

He is staring straight ahead, his jaw slightly slack. I can’t help but wonder if he’s even breathing. He seems to take no notice of me. [[Back|head deeper in.]]

“CLOSING SALE! 75% OFF ALL ITEMS! EVERYTHING MUST GO!!!” reads the sign, which is faded and starting to peel. The glass is also broken and there is clearly nothing inside. Is this woman waiting for the store to open? [[Back|head deeper in.]]

A few tables and chairs are scattered haphazardly around this part of the mall, surrounding a tacky water-fixture depicting a cartoon serpent coiled around a blue sphere. The rest of the tables and chairs are stacked up or being stored in one of the many shuttered storefronts. Based on the arrangements, and the faded names of the stores that used to be here, I assume this section of the mall acted as the food court. There is only one store that appears to be open, and they're not selling food. The sign reads “COBBLER” in bright, ugly colors. For some reason the shop is lit with pink neon lights that clash with the orange glow of the setting sun. I can see someone moving behind the display, which is covered in shoes of various makes. Having no idea where I’m going, I make the decision to [[approach the shop.]]

The display is piled high with shoes, none of which seem to match. Behind this mountain of shoes, I find the Cobbler hunched over a table, [[cutting strips of leather.]] The man is wearing dark sunglasses, and sports an unkempt beard and wild hair. He wears a Hawaiian shirt, open at the collar, revealing a forest of curly grey chest hair underneath. He is rocking back and forth sporadically as he works, wild in his movements even as his hands remain steady. Not sure what to make of this gentleman, I clear my throat to get his attention. He doesn’t respond. [[“Excuse me,” I say.]]

{The leather makes a guttural //rrrrriiiiiiiippppp// as he tears them carefully with a tool I’ve never seen before.} [[Back|approach the shop.]]

“You lost, friend?” the Cobbler does not look at me as he responds in a coarse, booming voice. “What am I saying, of course you’re lost. Else-wise you wouldn’t come marching into the jaws of Corporate America, giving no mind to if and when those jaws might bite.” I consider if it’s worth asking what he’s talking about, but instead I say: [[“I’m looking for something.”]]

//Rrrrrrriiiiiiipppppppp.// He tears another piece of leather with that bizarre tool of his. “Then you’re in the wrong place, friend. People don’t come to malls to find things. They come to malls to get lost in. To peer in windows. To lust for things they don’t need.” The man pulls out a shear-like tool. With a rusty squeal and squishy crunch, he begins to cut jagged chunks out of a block of rubber. “I remember when this place was the place to be. That’s how they get you, you know. A rich man builds a mall. The mall soaks up the cash that people earned with their sweat and hard work. The rich man becomes richer. “Man becomes rich enough, people start to treat them like a god. Treat somebody like something long enough, they become indistinguishable from that thing, you dig?” [[I do not dig.]]

Finished with his block of rubber, which is more of a jagged lump now, the man pulls out a large needle and heavy thread. “Thing is, no god can be satisfied with sweat alone. Hell, even the God of Abraham wasn’t satisfied with the sweat and toil of Cain. It was the blood of Abel’s flock God desired.” The man touches the tip of the needle with his index finger. Blood trickles down his finger and over his hand. He seems not to mind. “Me and Corporate America, we have an understanding. I give them my sweat, and in exchange they don’t bite down just yet. It’s only a matter of time before they’re no longer satisfied with sweat.” The man takes two pieces of leather and begins to stitch them together, using the needle and thread. Blood still trickles from the wound on his fingertip. “When that happens, I guess we’ll see which is faster: my legs or their jaws.” [[“I’m looking for a realty company called Acedia.”]]

The man pauses a moment before putting needle back to leather. “Top floor,” he says, “in the old Dick’s that used to be Fossil.” I turn to leave when he adds: “You’ll have to take the elevator. Morning Stars tore up the escalators. Oh, and avoid the third floor.” [[“Thank you,” I say.]]

“No problem, friend,” replies the Cobbler. The man smiles and nonchalantly removes his dark glasses. Underneath, his eyes are cloudy and focus on nothing. Clearly, he is blind. “Tell Acedia they should stop trying to give life to dry bones.” I [[nod and head for the elevators.]]

I pass the escalators on my way to the elevators. They have been torn to shreds somehow, mechanical parts poking up out of complicated machinery. Walking up them looks painful, if not dangerous. I find the elevators in a hallway just past the food court. I quickly press the “up” arrow and [[wait.]]

An old woman power-walks through the mall nearby. Where is she going? [[I wait.]]

The old woman has disappeared from view. It’s quiet now. Unnaturally still. Only the broken stereo and the light of the evening sky, which is slowly fading to blue, accompany me now. I can hear the elevator moving, faintly. [[I wait some more.]]

I think about my encounter with the Cobbler, and try to make sense of anything he was saying. Failing that, my mind wanders back to the memory I had before, of the time I got lost in the mall. [[I remember…]]

A coffee-colored blur. A soft voice. “What’s the matter?” [[I wiped my eyes.]]

A woman was crouching in front of me, looking at my tear-soaked face with worried eyes. She was probably no more than twenty years old, but to me she seemed like every other adult. She had skin like milk chocolate and curly brown hair, and she spoke with a sing-song voice that made me feel a little better. “Are you lost?” she asked. [[I nodded.]]

“How frightening,” she said, and the way she said it made me think she meant it. The woman extended a hand to me and smiled. “Come on, I’ll help you find your mother.” My mother had taught me to be wary of strangers, but this one seemed nice, and I had no one else to turn to. I [[took her hand.]]

She led me to the food court and sat me down in front of the Burger King. “The best thing you can do when lost is to stay in one place,” the woman told me. “If your mother came looking for you someplace you already left, you could end up going in circles all day!” I had never thought about that before, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. “What’s your name?” She asked. [[“Rose.”]]

[[“Rose!”]] she clapped. “What a beautiful name. I’ve never met a boy named Rose before. You must be special.” I usually felt self-conscious about my name, but this woman didn’t make me feel that way. “Just wait here one minute,” she said. “I’ll be right back.” She jumped up and ran off, presumably to tell Information about the lost child. I decided to take the woman’s advice and [[stay put.]]

My name is actually Rosencrantz, but nobody calls me that. My mother loves plays, or at least she loves the idea of loving plays, so she gave me and my brother play-related names. She has an entire bookshelf of plays at home. I don’t think she’s read a single one. [[Back|“Rose.”]]

I’m brought back to the present by the flash of the elevator light. There is no sound to mark the elevator’s arrival, just the light and the smooth motion of the elevator doors. I almost missed it entirely. I hurry inside and press the “4” button. The doors linger open. I jam my thumb into the “Close” button, knowing that it probably won’t have any effect, but choosing to embrace the illusion of control. The doors start to close. They are just about shut when a hand shoves its way into the narrow crack. The doors reluctantly begin to open again, and a man with long, red-dyed hair and [[tattoos all over his body]] steps onto the elevator. The man is making a low moaning sound in the back of his throat, and he’s moving his arms sporadically, like he doesn’t know where to place them. His eyes dart to and fro, landing on nothing in particular. I briefly consider [[stepping off.]]

I have never seen an uglier set of tattoos. There is no theme or order to them. His eyes are ringed in black, like a raccoon, while his face is lined with jagged stripes of several different colors, with no pattern to speak of. The rest of his body is covered with random symbols: pentagrams, of course, and Nordic runes, and designs from any number of different cultures. One recurring motif I see is that of a snake biting its own tail. His tattoos remind me of some of my middle-school friends’ journal-doodles. [[Back|stay put.]]

I take [[too much time to decide]] and the doors shut. It occurs to me that I still have time to hit the “open” button, but by the time I process this option, the elevator is rising. The man stands far too close to me. Now that we’re stuck together, I can smell him acutely. It is a sharp, cloying scent, faintly sweet. It burrows into my mind: I am sure the scent will stick with me when he leaves. The man is muttering to himself now, punctuating his sentences with groaning. I cannot tell if he’s schizophrenic, on drugs, or both, but I tell myself there’s nothing to worry about so long as he doesn’t acknowledge me. “Hey…” [[Damn it.]]

Was I afraid of offending him? Did I just not want to draw attention to myself? Was I seriously trying to rationalize staying on this elevator? [[Back|stepping off.]]

The man taps my shoulder with the back of his hand. “Hey,” he repeats. “Look at my eyes.” I really don’t want to look at him, but I worry that ignoring him might set him off. I look at the floor display. We’ve only just hit the second floor. I… [[…ignore him.]] [[…look at him.]] [[…get off on the third floor.]]

He tries to get my attention a few more times before throwing his head back and letting out a gurgling chuckle. I think he’s admitting defeat. Another moment passes. The man shoves his hand in front of my face, so I have no choice but to look. He is holding a long, thin, plastic container that rattles when he shakes it. I cannot tell what’s inside. He pulls his hand back, and in the reflection of the elevator doors I can tell that he is shaking something out of the container and into his hand. Now he is placing the object in his mouth. I… [[…continue to ignore him.]] [[…look at what he is doing.]]

I steel myself and look into his eyes. They are a deep blue, hidden under black rings like Raccoon eyes. They are moving back and forth, unable to hold still. “You just saw starlight,” the man throws his head back and laughs. His breath smells like rotting leaves and shoe polish. I am about to look away again when the man pulls out a long, thin, plastic container and rattles it in my face. I cannot tell what’s inside. The man pops the lid off of the container and shakes something free. A tiny metal razor blade falls into his hand, sparkling in the elevator lights. I can hear the blood pounding in my ears now as I try to predict what he will do with that razor blade. The image of him jamming that razor into my carotid artery flashes through my mind. My body tenses. I wonder if I could dodge that kind of attack. Maybe I could even disarm him. As though sensing my thoughts, the mad man chuckles and mimics cutting his own carotid artery, complete with sound effects denoting spurting blood. I am ready to defend myself. But just as I think he’s going to go for it, he turns away from me, and places the razor on his tongue, like he is taking a breath mint. I eye the display. We somehow haven’t hit the third floor yet. I take a moment to consider my options and decide to… [[…get off on the third floor.]] [[…keep an eye on him.]]

I jab my thumb into the “3” button on the elevator panel. My timing couldn’t have been more perfect, as the elevator comes to a halt almost immediately. I walk quickly through the doors as soon as they open. I immediately identify the escalators nearby and make a bee-line for them. I am halfway between the elevator hallway and the escalators when I hazard a look back. The man with the tattoos is following me, blood dripping down his grinning face. I feel my heart leap into my chest and all but sprint towards the escalator. Up ahead, I see what looks like a crowd of people in the center of the path. Upon closer inspection, I realize that they are actually a crowd of display mannequins. Without pausing to question their presence, I [[dive in]]

I can still see his fuzzy and warped reflection in the elevator doors. His expression is unreadable, but between what I can see of his reflection and the sounds coming from my right, I can imagine what he is doing. He is playing with something glittering and hard in his mouth. I can tell by the way his reflection opens and shuts its jaw. The object glints in the reflection. I hear the slap of his tongue as he manipulates the object and the click of the object against his teeth. I shift back and forth, wondering how long it takes to climb four stories. My heart is beating quickly. I’m clenching my teeth. If he tries anything funny, I’m ready to… I don’t know, but I’m ready. I see something red appear in his reflection. It crawls down his face. Suddenly there is a “plip” somewhere below and to my right. Followed by another. And another. I’m at my limit. I would rather be anywhere but here. I look again at the display. We still haven’t hit the third floor somehow. I decide to… [[…get off on the third floor.]] [[…wait it out.]]

It's a razor blade. He is playing with the razor in his mouth, manipulating it with his tongue. More than once he sticks his tongue out, as if to display his work. He then retracts his tongue and I can here the click of the razor against his teeth. The next time he sticks out his tongue, the razor is upside-down. He chuckles at his own accomplishment. His attention no longer seems to be on me, but I keep my eye on him regardless, waiting for any sudden moves. I hear a crunching sound echo through the chamber of his mouth. He lingers for a moment, as though struck by a sudden thought. Then, he grins a super-wide grin, and a torrent of blood dribbles down his chin and plops to the floor. He sticks his tongue out again, and this time the razor is embedded in his tongue, blood pooling out of the wound and mingling with his saliva, creating a pink froth around his mouth. The man laughs and laughs, choking on his own blood in the process. I am so horrified I almost don’t notice when the elevator doors slide open. I do though, and bolt out of there, leaving the choking laughter of the mad man behind me. After I’ve created some distance, I spin around and find the elevator doors closed and the stranger gone. I take a few deep breaths and try to regain my composure. I look around. I’ve made it to the fourth floor. Now all I need to do is find the Acedia Realty office. My mind wanders as I [[start to search.]]

“Mrs.-, your son is waiting for you in the food court,” came a voice over the loudspeaker. “Mrs.–, your son is waiting for you in the food court.” Not long after, the nice woman came back. We sat together for some time. She did her best to entertain me. She asked me questions about myself: what I liked to do, what books I liked to read, what my favorite subject in school was. I was still scared, but it felt nice to be asked about myself. I wasn’t used to being noticed. At one point I mentioned that I was thirsty, and she bought me a large Coca-Cola from Burger King. It wasn’t long before I saw my mother emerge from the crowd, heading towards me. I perked up and [[called out to her.]]

I take a deep breath and wait. I don’t know what I expect him to do, but if he does anything, all I have to do is hold out until the doors open. I keep my eyes locked on the man’s reflection, noting every movement. My body is ready to leap at a moment’s notice. We reach the fourth floor. There is an eternity in which we just stand there, before the doors slide open. As soon as they are wide enough, I spring out and power-walk as far away from the stranger in the elevator as I can. I can hear him gurgle-laughing behind me. When I’ve created some distance, I spin around, and find the elevator doors closed and the stranger gone. I take a few deep breaths and try to regain my composure. I look around. I’ve made it to the fourth floor. Now all I need to do is find the Acedia Realty office. My mind wanders as I [[start to search.]]

I weave my way in and around the still bodies, hoping to lose my pursuer in the crowd. My eyes are still fixed on the escalators, which are only a few yards away. Suddenly I feel a hand on my shoulder. “Hey, can I ask you a question?” a voice whispers in my ear. I am too terrified to stop and answer, so instead I shake off the hand and plunge deeper into the crowd of mannequins. I don’t even stop to look at who was speaking to me. But now I feel more hands reaching out to me, pawing at me, trying to get my attention. From many different directions I hear voices asking me questions, asking me where I’m going, what I’m looking for, if I have to discuss something important. I shake off all of them, twisting this way and that. Everything is starting to blur together. I can’t be sure if the voices belong to people or to the mannequins themselves. Finally, I exit the forest of mannequins and stumble onto the escalator. I do not stop running until I reach the top. I look back down, but I can see no sign of the scary man from the elevator. Nor can I see any sign of the people who were pawing at me. All I see are mannequins. I take a few deep breaths and try to regain my composure. I look around. I’ve made it to the fourth floor. Now all I need to do is find the Acedia Realty office. My mind wanders as I [[start to search.]]

She seized my wrist and yanked me to my feet. “Let’s go,” she said and began dragging me away. She didn’t even look at the woman I was with. I looked back while I struggled to keep up. The nice woman smiled at me and waved. I tried to wave back, but I still had the Coke in my hand, so I only managed to flail my arm and give an awkward half-smile in return. My mother didn’t say anything else until we caught up with Godot, who was standing not too far off, a bottle of [[Pepsi in his hands.]]

It doesn’t take long to find the office. Despite the size of the mall, there are few storefronts that look open. The Acedia Realty Co. office takes up three storefronts. The windows are painted over with the company logo: muted orange lettering over a sea of murky blue. As a result, I cannot see inside. There is only one entrance: a glass door leading to an atrium that was clearly built on top of the middle storefront. From what I can see through the door, the office is dark, but there might be somebody inside. Taking one final breath, I [[make my way inside.]]

Nothing in this office looks right. Everything is either too small or too big. There are doors to the left and right, where the office continues into the other storefronts. There is only one person in this office: a man in a grey suit. He is standing at the opposite side of the room, by the window, his back to me. I [[approach the man.]]

Evening has fallen since I arrived at the mall, turning the sky a deep blue. Lights crowd the horizon, as the surrounding businesses and houses try to hold off the night for as long as possible. The lights of the nearby Walmart are especially bright. As I approach the man in the grey suit, I realize that his forehead is pressing against the glass, his breath fogging it up with each exhale. He doesn’t seem to hear me. [[“Godot?"]]

Godot turns around, his face gaunter, more weathered than I remember it. His hair is uncombed, there are bags under his eyes, his shirt is untucked, his dark blue tie is crooked and loose, and his suit is mottled with dark splotches. He looks at me with cloudy eyes. There is a bright red spot on his forehead where it was pressed against the glass. I would think it was funny if his expression wasn’t so off-putting. “Rose,” a glimmer of recognition. Godot smiles, but it only serves to make him look sadder somehow. “What are you doing here?” [[“Mother sent me,”]]

I respond. “She’s worried. You stopped returning our calls.” Godot frowns and shakes his head. “Yeah, well, [[a lot has happened.”]] He pauses. “How is mother?” he asks. [[“She’s dying,”]]

Godot had retreated to the suburbs when he felt the city had become ‘too noisy’ and ‘too dangerous’ to raise a family in. He was doing pretty well for himself at the realty company. Then, something happened, and his wife left him. Took the kids with her. After that, he started getting more and more into his work. That was two years ago. [[Back|“Mother sent me,”]]

I say. “Oh.” His face contorts, and he begins biting the first knuckle on his right index finger. He used to do that all the time when he was stressed out. “Why?” he asks. [[“Cancer,”]]

I respond. “Yeah, that’s bad,” he says. “So she sent you to find me so that I could see her one last time before the end, huh? Must be serious, then.” I don’t say anything. Because it is. Godot begins pacing back and forth, biting his knuckle as he begins to weigh his options. He’s starting to look like the Godot I remember. “Sorry, Rose,” he says. “But I can’t, not like this.” [[“Why not?”]]

“Because,” he screams. “I’m a mess! I’m a shell of a man, Rose. If mother were to see me like this, it’d break her little heart. I can’t do that to her! Not on her deathbed!” I hold off on pointing out the flaws in his logic. Godot was never one to say exactly what he was thinking. There was something else that was bothering him. “If only the Well hadn’t stopped giving,” he mutters to himself. “Then maybe-“ Trailing off mid-sentence, Godot bows his head and turns away. He appears to be contemplating something heavy. He looks at me out of the corner of his eye, quickly looks away and shakes his head. He looks at me again, longer this time. I notice that his hand is shaking. He notices too and tries to steady it with the other hand. He stands a little straighter and looks me square in the face. He seems to have come to a decision. His eyes have a far-off quality to them, but his jaw is resolute. “Rose,” he says, his voice steady. “I have something to show you. Will you come with me?” [[“What is it?” I ask.]]

“The secret to my success. And,” he says, “something that might save mother. Will you come with me?” Everything about this situation has me on edge: this town, this mall, this brother I haven’t seen in over a year. I would be justified in turning around right now and going home. But I’ve come so far, and if there is any truth to what Godot is saying, then don’t I have an obligation to see it through? So despite my misgivings, I take a deep breath and say: [[“Okay.”]]

Godot breathes a sigh of relief and smiles. “Thank you, Rose.” He leads me through the office, past rows and rows of empty [[desks]], through a large grey door and into a narrow passage. This must be some kind of maintenance tunnel. We’re in a part of the mall that shoppers rarely get to see now: its veins. The passage is narrow, and half-lined with stuff: desks, chairs, mops, buckets, soda and coffee machines, etc. We are forced to walk in single file down the hallway, deeper into the mall itself. Eventually we arrive at a large freight elevator. The elevator is covered in rust and peeling grey paint. An emblem is painted in its center, like a mural. In it, a screeching bald eagle is carrying a serpent in its talons. The serpent, in turn, is biting the eagle in its thigh. It is a truly bizarre scene. Godot pries open the steel jaws of the freight elevator and pulls back the safety cage, beckoning me to step on. I [[enter the elevator.]]

Where the hell is everyone? [[Back|“Okay.”]]

Godot steps in after me, closing the steel doors and raising the safety cage behind us. He then grabs a nearby lever and pulls down. The elevator lurches, and begins its descent. “Do you know why there are so many malls in America?” Godot says over the roar of the elevator motors. I [[shake my head.]]

“Tax breaks,” he replied. “Ridiculously large tax breaks. “Without taxes to hold them back, malls were free to soak up as much money as people could earn. So rich men started to build them all over the country, siphoning the lifeblood from the people and using it to line their wallets. “Of course, shopping malls wouldn’t have been so successful if they were just consuming people’s money. The reason they worked is because they consumed people’s lives. “I’m serious, people would come to shopping malls just to walk, chat with friends, kill time. There was nowhere else for them to go. If spending a little cash on luxury goods was the price of living, then so be it…” I’ve been counting the doors we pass as the elevator continues its downward journey. We’ve long since passed four levels. How deep are we going? A knot forms in my stomach, but I [[pretend to keep listening.]]

“But there were too many, in the end, and only so many lives to go around. The rich men’s malls could not be satisfied, and they began to eat themselves. “That’s when the malls started to go under. Some malls, like this one, were able to hold out longer than others by demanding more from their patrons. You might think this mall is dead, but there’s still a little bit of magic left in this old place. “Actually, that’s why I’m here. Acedia hoped I could make nice with some of the old gods and squeeze whatever [[blessings they’ve got left.”]] Godot pulls up on the lever and the elevator grinds to a stop. Once again, Godot pulls open the security gate and pries open the steel doors. I have no idea how deep we are anymore. We are far below the mall itself. This time Godot steps off first and beckons me to follow, [[which I do.]]

I have no idea what he’s talking about. Godot has always had a pension for hyperbole and a flair for the dramatic, but I have no idea what he’s trying convey with this metaphor. [[Back|pretend to keep listening.]]

Godot leads me down a series of tunnels carved out of grey stone covered in moss. The tunnel is clearly man-made, but feels like a natural rock formation. We stop at a pair of double doors, an image of a snake biting its own tail embossed on blackened steel. “Are you ready to see the secret to success?” asks Godot. I [[give a hesitant nod.]]

Godot pushes the steel doors inwards, revealing a small chamber. Inside the chamber is a pool of water, with wide steps leading down into it. There is light coming from beneath the water, sending waves of light rippling across the walls. I cannot tell what the source of the lights is. [[“What is this?”]]

I ask. “It’s [[the Well,”]] says Godot. “They say that Mr. Townshend, the chap who built this mall, ripped out his left eye and threw it into this Well once. He had an uncanny ability to predict the stock market.” He crouches down, staring into the glittering water, and begins absent-mindedly rolling up his sleeve. The skin on his right arm is ragged with scabs and knotty scar tissue. Rivulets of blood, both wet and dry, snake their way through the troughs of mangled flesh. To earn those scars, he must have used a razor over and over and over again. Godot looks at me and smiles. “Gods demand blood. And the gods of commerce in particular are hard to satisfy.” He stands up, hiding his scars beneath the sleeve of his grey suit once again. “Look Rose, I know how crazy this all looks. I can tell by the look on your face that you think I’ve lost it, but just hear me out. “This Well might be able to save Mother. It’s got some power left. I know because it’s the only thing that’s been keeping me afloat for the last year. “Rose, I…” Godot looks away, scrunches his eyes and balls his fists. He looks scared. I’ve never seen him look so helpless. It scares me. “I’m not going to sugar-coat it,” he says, still not looking at me. “There are…ways that these things work. The gods may like blood, but they’re picky about it. My blood’s no good. I’ve been here too long. But the blood of an outsider, now that’s-“ He looks at me out of the corner of his eye, sees my expression, looks away again. “I, um, hey,” he un-balls his fists, though he is still unable to look at me. “We’re family, right?” I… [[…nod.]] [[…say nothing.]]

It doesn’t look like a well to me, but I say nothing. [[Back|“What is this?”]]

Godot looks visibly relieved, though he still doesn’t look me in the eye. “That’s…good,” he says. “I was afraid that you really hated me. Not that I’d blame you.” He shifts his weight uncomfortably. “You’re the only one who can save mother. I won’t lie; you’ll probably be saving me too. So, for our family’s sake, do you think you could do this?” He shuffles his way backwards until he is standing in the doorway, blocking my exit. “Just…stand there for a minute and look into the water. If you look hard enough, you might even see something special.” My heart thumps in my chest and my palms begin to sweat. Right now, I am more frightened of my brother than I was of any of the strangers in the mall above. [[I consider the cost.]] [[I consider Godot.]] After a long consideration, I choose to… [[…defy him.]] [[…trust him.]]

Godot chuckles to himself. “Yeah, I guess that’s a bit of a stretch. I haven’t exactly been the world’s best older brother.” He shifts his weight uncomfortably. “Look, you don’t have to do it for me. But you’re the only one who can save mother. So, do you think you could do this for her sake?” He shuffles his way backwards until he is standing in the doorway, blocking my exit. “Just…stand there for a minute and look into the water. If you look hard enough, you might even see something special.” My heart thumps in my chest and my palms begin to sweat. Right now, I am more frightened of my brother than I was of any of the strangers in the mall above. [[I consider the cost.]] [[I consider Godot.]] After a long consideration, I choose to… [[…defy him.]] [[…trust him.]]

I’ve never valued my life very much. I've only ever kept my head down in public and hid in my brother’s shadow at home. Would it really be such a loss to give my life for someone else’s? [[Back|…nod.]]

Terrible as he is, Godot is still family. Perhaps the only family I’ll have left, if I do nothing here. [[Back|…nod.]]

[[Anger boils in my gut.]] I wheel on him and advance. My sudden confidence must have thrown him, because his eyes grow wide as he stumbles back a couple of steps. “Rose, wait, I-“ I grab him by his shoulder, intending to push past him, but he grabs my arm and shoves me back into the chamber. I stumble back, nearly slipping on the wet stone. When I gain my footing, I notice that Godot has produced a long, silver knife from his breast pocket. He holds it up to me, shaking. “Rose, I- I can’t let you leave.” Something wells up inside of me, something primal, and I lunge at him. The howl of an angry animal echoes along the stone walls. It is my own voice. Godot takes a furtive swing at me with the knife, but I dodge and throw myself at him. We grapple for some time, throwing fists, screaming. He nicks me once or twice with the knife, but I hardly notice. The silver knife clatters to the floor, and with a shove, I toss Godot into the pool of water, sending the light rippling across the floor and walls. I turn to leave, but feel a heavy weight pulling on my left leg. I look down to find Godot wrapping his arms around my boot. He looks up at me, pitiful. “Rose, please-” I [[kick him in the head.]]

Godot has never been there for me. Not even once. But he is family, and that has to count for something. My mother isn’t much better, but even I can’t dismiss my own mother. My life was never worth much anyway. So I take a deep breath, trying to steady the shaking of my hands, and I face the Well. I can almost picture Godot’s dumbfounded look. After a pause I hear him step up behind me, and the sound of something being removed from his breast pocket. “Thank you, Rose,” he whispers in my ear, and I believe him when he says it. There’s a sharp pain in my neck. Now I am falling, falling, falling so slowly that time itself must be standing still. I feel the water wrap me in a comfortable embrace. Now I am staring into a hole so deep that I’m sure that its depths can never be known. There are movements of things ancient and unfathomable just beyond the light. I smile to myself, or at least I think I do. Red fog clouds my vision. I anticipate darkness, but instead my vision is flooded with light; such light that all else washes away in the vast whiteness. I feel a hand grasping mine. I look at it. It is soft, and brown, and gentle. “Are you lost?” asks a sweet voice. I smile and grip the hand a little tighter. “No,” I whisper. “Not anymore.” ###THE END [[Play again?|Intro]]

After years of treating me like an unwanted house pet, he want me to sacrifice myself for HIS sake? [[Back|…defy him.]]

I feel his nose crunch under my boot. I leave him bleeding and sobbing in the middle of the stone floor and make my way onto the freight elevator, closing the gaping steel jaws behind me. As I drive away from that awful place, I think about what I will tell my mother. “The receptionist at Acedia Realty told me that he was transferred, but she couldn’t tell me where,” I’ll say. “She said it was some kind of promotion thing and assured me that he was doing exceptionally well.” She’ll be disappointed that her favorite son did not come to visit her on her deathbed, but somehow this doesn’t bother me anymore. I let out a deep breath, and feel a great weight fall away. ###THE END [[Play Again?|Intro]]

(align: "=><=")[#Sweat Like Drops of Blood by Fable Fabliau Developed for the Scream Lite^^TM^^ Game Jam 2020 Content Warning: Blood, self-harm ##[[START|Intro]] ]

He is playing with the razor in his mouth, manipulating it with his tongue. More than once he sticks his tongue out, as if to display his work. He then retracts his tongue and I can here the click of the razor against his teeth. The next time he sticks out his tongue, the razor is upside-down. He chuckles at his own accomplishment. His attention no longer seems to be on me, but I keep my eye on him regardless, waiting for any sudden moves. I hear a crunching sound echo through the chamber of his mouth. He lingers for a moment, as though struck by a sudden thought. Then, he grins a super-wide grin, and a torrent of blood dribbles down his chin and plops to the floor. He sticks his tongue out again, and this time the razor is embedded in his tongue, blood pooling out of the wound and mingling with his saliva, creating a pink froth around his mouth. The man laughs and laughs, choking on his own blood in the process. I am so horrified I almost don’t notice when the elevator doors slide open. I do though, and bolt out of there, leaving the choking laughter of the mad man behind me. After I’ve created some distance, I spin around and find the elevator doors closed and the stranger gone. I take a few deep breaths and try to regain my composure. I look around. I’ve made it to the fourth floor. Now all I need to do is find the Acedia Realty office. My mind wanders as I [[start to search.]]