<img src="image/forest-crop.png" width="500" height="300" alt="dense forest at night"> (if:(history:)'s last contains "beginning")[tonight, the world is a rare kind of black--sticky and motionless, the moon buried somewhere in the darkness. you strain to hear a sound, but even the crickets seem to be holding their breath. slivers of grass feed in between the crooks of your toes like worms, a spittle of dew collecting in the webs of your feet. for a moment, it's as though the world is empty.](else:)[you are alone in the dark, viscous night. slivers of grass feed in between the crooks of your toes.](if:(history:)'s last contains "photograph")[ you clutch the photo tight.](if:(history:)'s last contains "message")[ you clutch the photo tight.](if:(history:)'s last contains "behind")[ you clutch the note tight.](if:(history:)'s last contains "pendant")[ you clutch the necklace tight.] (if:(history:)'s last contains "beginning")[ [to your left]<left| (mouseover-replace: ?left)[a flash of [[light]] briefly pans into view before slipping back into the darkness.] [to your right]<right| (mouseover-replace: ?right)[a faint [[crack]] sounds somewhere in the distance.]](else:)[follow the [[light]] follow the [[sound->crack]]]<img src="image/forest-crop.png" width="500" height="300" alt="dense forest at night"> the light flickers in and out of view, holding the darkness open for breath-length moments. it seems to waver harshly with each step, sillhouetting the nearby foilage in its wake; waist-high blackberries and a gallery of ferns are illuminated, edging the path ahead. the source remains a mystery, bodiless, but nearer. (if:(history:) contains "token")[](else:)[it may be a [[flashlight]]] (if:(history:) contains "token")[[[visit the moon->em]]](else:)[or it's the wave of [[the moon->em]]]<img src="image/forest-crop.png" width="500" height="300" alt="dense forest at night"> the sound seems to echoe through the silence, the way a shattered glass at 2am pierces the air and hangs for eternity. you follow its orientation, slowly. roots and weeds tug at your feet with each low step, while sharp stones dig into your soles as you press blindly forward. the crack comes again, closer now--nearly discernable. (if:(history:) contains "pendant")[](else:)[it may be the snap of a [[branch]]] (if:(history:) contains "closure")[](else:)[or the crackle of a [[fire]]] [[turn around->darkness]] <img src="image/forest-crop.png" width="500" height="300" alt="dense forest at night"> you follow the light like a moth, coniferus towers shoulder to shoulder in every direction. the source is in motion as well; with each stride the light is obstructed, strobing like hazard lights, or a digital clock after the power dies. (live: 8s)[a voice calls out--shrill, but breathless.] (live: 10s)["em!"] (live: 13s)["em, can you hear me?"] (live: 15s)[(if:(history:) contains "complete")[ [[call out->token]]](else:)[ [[follow]] the voice]] the ocean is warm at this hour by antony stevens [[start->darkness]]ahead, there's the sudden flicker of a flashlight--the flicker of humanity. (if:(history:) contains "note")[call out [[to ell->ell]] call out [[to em->hanging]]](else:)[but just as quickly as it came, the light dissipates, the crack of branches surrenders, and the night returns to mute. you stumble through the vague black, hands stretched forward to feel through the maze of pine trunks, the direction of motion ingrained in your memory like a scrape of a knife on bark. you find yourself in a clearing, welcomed by a diffused glow of light. seeping its light into the dewy earth is a dropped [flashlight.]<flashlight| (click-append: ?flashlight)[ a pair of ankles hang in front of your face--one foot, shoeless. light snakes around the contours of the body as you stand; it's a man, neck attached to a rope, the colour of his skin still warm. the darkness suddenly seems more friendly, and you [[close your eyes->darkness]].]]<img src="image/fire-crop.png" width="500" height="300" alt="run-down trailer home and backyard fire"> the woods come to a sudden end, leading into the weedy backyard of a trailer home. in the center of the yard is a small bonfire; a woman with waist-length silver-hair stands in front. on the porch are lines of empty glass bottles, and slivers of broken glass flickering into the forest behind you. the sliding glass door has been shattered, and the curtains flutter in the open pane. in the woman's hand is a small square of paper, illegible at the distance. (if:(history:) contains "watch")[](else:)[ [[keep your distance->burn]]] [[approach the woman->approach]] <audio src="sound/fire.mp3" autoplay>you call out to ell. the response is a rustle of bushes not far ahead, and a beam of light like the lamp from a lighthouse. a man approaches, his face ghastly; his cheeks are calloused and scabbed with razor burn, and his eyes are red and wet. he peels the loose skin on his lips with his teeth. (live:15s)["why are you here?"] (live:20s)[(if:(history:) contains "note")[ [[show the note->pendant]]](else:)[you have no reply. the man's eyelids begin to sink, slowly falling until closed, as a trickle of salt water crosses down to his chin. (live:5s)[he turns off the flashlight, and the night swallows you both like a pill. you're alone in the [[darkness]]]](stop:)]<img src="image/ocean-crop.png" width="500" height="300" alt="rocky bay"> as you work your way towards the light, the forest opens up into a stony beach. wet stones and seagrass reflect the moon, newly unveiled from the thick canopy of forest night. the sky is high and clear, and the moon as white as bone. to your left is the turn of the ocean, carrying with it wind and the smell of salt. to your right is a capsized fishing boat, hull cracked open by the might of some forgotten storm. standing in front is the figure of a young woman, her hair wet and glistening. she's wearing jeans, sapped by water, with tiny bits of sand speckling the denim like freckles. her voice is warm when she speaks to you. (if:(history:) contains "em")["hello again" "do you know who you are?"](else:)["who are you?" she asks, slowly.] (if:(history:) contains "truth")[ [[take her hand->end]]](else:)[the question lingers in you; somehow, you don't know the answer. (if:(history:) contains "complete")[](else:)[(if:(history:) contains "pendant")[ [[hand her the necklace->complete]]]] (if:(history:) contains "message")[](else:)[(if:(history:) contains "photograph")[ [[hand her the photo->message]]]] you close your eyes, and try to [[remember->darkness]]] <audio src="sound/ocean.mp3" autoplay>her fingers are warm in the slits between yours. "i wasn't sure my note would get to you," she says. you have no reply; there's nothing vocal left to be said-- the moon speaks for you both, now. it reflects on the water in front of you, and across the everlasting ocean whose blue is deep and black, but painted with a silver shimmer of light, like a medallion. floating in the shallow water near shore are dozens of corked bottles, like a flock of glass swans, each filled with different photographs and writings from unfamiliar others. they bob into the distance, hundreds, if not more, until they appear only the size of a star in the sky. you're lead swiftly toward the water, em prancing on the balls of her feet, wrapping her toes around each wet stone, smooth as marble, as she moves. when you reach the water, a small wave catches your toes, washing over them with brine and algae. when the water rolls back out, you find yourself exhaling in tandem. em was right; it's warm. she turns to face you with that sly smile where only half her lips curve. you close your eyes and breathe in the moment; it tastes like salt. when you look again, em is gone, carried away by the dance of the waves. and all that remains is [[moonlight]] <img src="image/ocean-crop.png" width="500" height="300" alt="rocky bay"> she takes the photo between two fingers like a cigarette, stares at it, and points it right between your eyes. "i tried to kill myself, you know." the sand shifts beneath her as she talks; her body language is as loud as her voice. she laughs. "well, i guess i did kill myself. but i mean, i tried it again, here. it doesn't work. i tried drowning again. i tried all the sharp corners of this stupid fucking ship. every time, i just pass out and wake up in the sand again right here." "so, thank you, for..." she waves her hand in a small circle, "this... 'visit,' i guess, you could call it." she shrugs and looks back at the photo in her hand. "but, what she's doing isn't fair. i think she knows that. it's just, i couldn't find the words for her." she pulls a black marker from her pocket and writes something on the back. "give her this," she says, holding out [the photo.]<take| (click-append: ?take)[ "i'll see you again, i'm sure." (live:3s)[in a blink, she's gone] (live:5s)[in another, [[the world goes black->darkness]]]] a figure leaps out of the forest in front of you before you can even shout. they carry with them a blinding light that spears your eyes like a lance, so you cover your face with your forearm. "don't suppose you've seen emily then." the voice is male, raspy, and chuckles to himself like a seafarer might before a storm. [show the necklace]<show| (click-replace: ?show)[the man lowers the light. he wears a long beard and baggy eyes. "been a long time since i've seen this." he turns the pendant over and over in his hand like a passed-down pocket watch, running his thumb along every grain in the metal as though to match the lines to his fingerprints. he stops suddenly and cocks his head. "here, [hold this."]<take| (click-append: ?take)[ the man grabs at his back pocket and pulls something from his wallet-- a photograph. [["here."->truth]]]] <img src="image/fire-crop.png" width="500" height="300" alt="run-down trailer home and backyard fire"> the woman seems to sense your approach, but makes no gesture; she stares deep into the fire as if in meditation. with her chin down, the light creeps into the dunes of her cheeks, painting black lines and sharp shadows across her face. her hair is striking-- long, ash-gray tendrils, unkempt. she tilts her head gently toward the square in her hand, and sighs. "do you know what this is?" she asks. (if:(history:) contains "message")[(if:(history:) contains "note")[ [[hand her the photo->closure]]](else:)[]](else:)[it's a [[photograph]]] it's a [[note]](if:(history:)'s last contains "note")[you check over your shoulder, but there's nothing in the darkness behind you; the night is as impenetrable as ever.](if:(history:)'s last contains "fire")[the paper falls from the woman's fingers and flutters slowly into the licking flames. she remains still as it burns, and you imagine the way it shrivels to ash in front of her. she stays, motionless, until long after the paper turns to smoke, and finally the flames begin to dwindle.] as if cued by the dying crackle of fire, the woman turns sharply on her heels, takes two short steps onto the back porch, and enters the dark mouth of the mobile home. even in the dimmed light, you can recognize the shape of a pistol in her other hand as she disappears. (if:(history:) contains "burn")[you know how this ends. turn back to the [[darkness]]](else:)[you wait in silence. (live: 29s)[<audio src="sound/gun.mp3" autoplay>] (live: 30s)[there's a deafening crack...] (live: 34s)[<audio src="sound/gun.mp3" autoplay>] (live: 35s)[and then another.] (live: 38s)[and then [[nothing->darkness]]]]<img src="image/polaroid-crop.png" width="335" height="365" alt="photo of a couple with one face burned out"> "this was the last photo ever taken of her." she hands it to you: a square polaroid of a young woman and another body whose face has been burned out, tiny embers still fizzling on the scorched corner. the woman's face is familiar-- a gentler version of the one in front of you, and hair nearly as long. she bears a toothy smile, and her head tilts slightly into the other. on her neck is a polished, half-heart pendant. [check the back.]<flip| (click-replace: ?flip)[there's a caption: L & M two years 07-02-14 (live: 3s)[the fire crackles, and, as if on cue, the woman turns on her heels, takes two steps onto the back porch, and enters the dark mouth of the mobile home. even in the dimmed light, you can recognize the shape of a pistol in her other hand as she disappears. (if:(history:) contains "burn")[ you know how this ends. turn back to the [[darkness]]](else:)[you wait in silence.]]] (live:21s)[<audio src="sound/gun.mp3" autoplay>] (live:22s)[there's a deafening crack...] (live:24s)[<audio src="sound/gun.mp3" autoplay>] (live:25s)[and then another.] (live:28s)[and then [[nothing->darkness]]]she hands you the folded paper; it's warm, heated by the fire, and the ink seeps fresh through the page, sticking to your fingers like blood. even after it leaves her hand, she keeps her thumb pressed to her forefinger, as though still holding on. [unfold the letter.]<unfold| (click-replace: ?unfold)[ <img src="image/note-crop.png" width="302" height="344" alt="worn note"> 03-08-2015 ell, don't blame yourself; the ocean is warm at this hour. see you again, em (live: 2s)[the note is creased in a perfect cross, like the industrial folding of a business letter, but aged and weary. the writing is a lower-case cursive, and each letter features an almost perfect precision to its movement. the woman lifts her face to yours, but her stare is unfocused, gazing emptily somewhere past your shoulder. (if:(history:) contains "message")[ [[give her the photo->closure]]](else:)[ [[look behind->burn]]]]]she takes the photo, hands trembling like branches in a storm. she notices the markings on the back immediately, and her eyes scan, but tremble just the same. (live:10s)["she was..." her voice freezes as soon as she tries.] (live:15s)["i was angry. right? leaving without a goodbye, i... it seemed so selfish."] (live:20s)[she covers her mouth with her hand.] (live:23s)["seventeen years under my roof, my... care, my love, i just... nobody wants to hurt."] (live:28s)[her low murmer turns briefly to a mumble, but her final word is exclaimed:] (live:31s)["everything," she says. "everything."] (live:34s)[she dangles the photo between the tips of her fingers, a final hesitation.] (live:38s)["emily. i love you, too."] (live:41s)[when the photo burns, the colours seem to melt away like water paints, and the fire drools black.] (live:45s)[you stare together until the fire's final lick.] (live:50s)[until all that remains is [[darkness]]] you call the name, but the only reply is silence; the light dissipates, the crack of branches surrenders, and the night returns to mute. you stumble through the vague black, hands stretched forward to feel through the maze of pine trunks, the direction of motion ingrained in your memory like a scrape of a knife on bark. you find yourself in a clearing, welcomed by a diffused glow of light. seeping its light into the dewy earth is a dropped [flashlight.]<flashlight| (click-append: ?flashlight)[ a pair of ankles hang in front of your face--one foot, shoeless. light snakes around the contours of the body as you stand; it's a man, neck attached to a rope, the colour of his skin still warm. the darkness suddenly seems more friendly when you [[close your eyes->darkness]].]you trail quietly, keeping your distance from the voice. the night is biting and your fingers stiff as you shield your face from the low branches. others snap under your feet like the soft crack of bone. you find yourself in a clearing, welcomed by a diffused glow of light. seeping its light into the dewy earth is a dropped [flashlight.]<flashlight| (click-append: ?flashlight)[ a thick rope dangles in front of your face--a noose tied to branches above. the light catches on something else: nailed to a tree is a small note of paper: [inspect]<inspect| (click-replace: ?inspect)[ 03-08-2015 ell, don't blame yourself; the ocean is warm at this hour. see you again. em (live:6s)[without warning, the flashlight begins to dim. the battery dwindles like tired eyelids, until you're left only with thoughts and [[darkness]].]]] you hand her the necklace, and she takes it carefully, cupping her hands like the parched would for water. "this was our two year gift." she pauses to smile, closing her fingers over the pendant like a shell. "there is no other half--that was the best part, you know. i loved you for that," she says, staring into the metal. when she speaks, she speaks to it, as though it breathes in her hand. as though you are the one that's absent. "'if we're two parts,' you told me, 'then this half is all of me, and it would be a paradox any other way.' you said, 'if i had your half, then we would always be apart.'" a sliver of a tear rolls down her face, pooling atop her lip as it crests into a half-way smile. "well shit," she says, holding out the pendant. ["take this."]<take| (click-append: ?take)[ "i'll see you again, i'm sure." (live:3s)[in a blink, she's gone] (live:5s)[in another, [[the world goes black->darkness]]]]you've seen the photo before, but this time ell's face remains unburnt and beaming, eyes crinkled at the corners the way sun rays eminate in cartoons. you look up at the man and he nods. "you looked beautiful together." on emily's neck is the half-heart pendant, but it's not the one in front of you--the pendant in the photo is jagged on the opposite side. there's a sudden warmth in your throat as you feel a hand on your shoulder. "i think it's time for you to go." he points not far in the distance, to where the moon peeks in from outside the woods. "say hi for me." [[follow the light->em]] he takes the note, but doesn't look twice, as though it's a familiar face. "everyone wants to save somebody. it shouldn't feel like a bad thing." em unfolds the note, he takes the note without a second glance, as though it's a familiar face. (live:5s)["everyone wants to save somebody. it shouldn't feel like the wrong thing to do."] (live:10s)[he unfolds the note, careful not to tear the worn creases.] (live:15s)["but i fucked up."] (live:17s)[he takes a moment to sigh and cough and mutter "fuck" a few more times.] (live:22s)["you know that feeling when you think you've fucked up something important, and you just wanna rewind time, but then when you look it over it's perfectly fine and you just go 'fuck i'm lucky' and you get that second chance to take better care of your shit?"] (live:35s)[he draws a small nail from his pocket and puts it between his teeth.] (live:40s)["yeah. you don't get a second chance."] (live:46s)[he walks to the nearest tree, grabs a small rock, and pounds the note into the bark. he looks back, halfway over his shoulder, and gives you a nod.] (live:54s)["say hi for me." he walks straight into the forest, leaving the flashlight hanging on the nail.] (live:58s)[there's something else behind it: a small chain, with a half-heart pendant.] (live:63s)[when you take the necklace, the flashlight gives out--the bulp pops with the sound of shattered glass, and you're returned to the [[darkness]]] end (live:3s)[thank you for playing]