Journey to The Maw: A Little Nightmare

A Fate Worse Than Death

A loud, raucous noise sounded, and Mono was thrown back with great force. His head hurt as it slammed into the wooden floor, but he ignored it, sitting up quickly. The pain was but a minor inconvenience in the face of Six's fate.

His onyx eyes met those of Six's, but instead of the gratitude and relief he had hoped for, her face bore an expression of both anger and heartbreak. They both stood up slowly, not breaking their locked gazes.

Mono couldn't help the fear he felt in that moment, nor was he capable of forgetting the way Six had been mere seconds ago— a giant, grotesque, murderous nightmare. Forcing himself to push it aside, he slowly reached out his hand. Before either moved so much as an inch, the rotund, bumpy walls suddenly started to shift.

Mono saw Six dart at once for the door, thoughtless of him as a monstrous, bubbling swarm of flesh and eyes began to protrude into the center of the room. Mono leapt out of the creature's way, sprinting after her, yet again ignoring how his bones ached.

The two ran for their lives, consumed by fear as they jumped and climbed over obstacles. Six was far ahead of Mono, having started before him, but Mono soon found himself catching up. Hope prickled in his heart that they would both make it after all.

He was almost able to reach out and grab her hand as he tripped over the doorway he had followed Six through, landing on the stone bridge before them. The wind left his lungs, and he fought to stand back up as the bulbous beast got closer and closer. Six had already gotten halfway across the bridge, and Mono felt slightly assured that at least she would escape this horrid place.

Launching himself forward, Mono moved even faster. He hoped the bridge wouldn't give, feeling it crumbling and groaning under his and Six's weight. As he had expected, the stone collapsed beneath Six, just after she had gotten to the solid floor on the other side.

Mono tried to not let himself get too worried as he prepared to jump, seeing Six's hand stretched out to catch him. They had done this before, many times, after all. Drowning out the horrific gurgling of the eyes and flesh, he leapt.

Six caught him with her hands. Mono's fingers began to slip as he faced the sea of lumps below. It was at this moment he realized he wasn't moving. Nothing was happening, aside from the continual approach of the eyes. He turned his gaze slowly to Six. Looking up at her, he pleaded silently with Six to pull him up.

Mono wished desperately that she wasn't being hesitant because of what he had done to her precious music box... it had been poisoning her, after all. He could hear the faint echo of Six's stomach growl, and he looked her right in the eyes. The same hurt frown stared at him as before, and Mono knew what she would do next.

After a moment more, he found himself falling. Six had torn herself from his flailing arms, and was watching over the edge as he flew backwards. The light coming from the exit behind her flickered, and the last thing Mono saw of Six was her turning slowly around and walking into the illuminated doorway, disappearing with a distorted zap.

Their time together flashed over his eyes, from when he had found her locked away in the Huntsman's cabin, to the moment where he thought he had lost her under the weight of the collapsed building in the Pale City, all the way until this moment, when the only person Mono had ever trusted— the only person he had ever cared about —was leaving him to die.

He closed his eyes, painfully aware of how he couldn't do a thing to stop his descent. He hit the ground hard, and didn't move at first. He was too tired. Too hurt. Too heartbroken.

Mono laid there, alone in the dimly lit waves of gloop. After a while, he heard a strange sound. Mono felt so very stupid for thinking Six had come back for him, but he stood up anyways. If she had, he would want to make sure she got back out okay, even if he couldn't.

Holding his concussed head, Mono walked slowly over the wriggling flesh below, cringing each time his bare feet made contact with the sticky, squishy surface.

It seemed to go on for miles and miles, a never-ending pathway. His mind couldn't stay away from his friend, despite how hard he tried. He wondered how Six could have possibly been that upset that she would let him fall to his death. Only, he hadn't died. Something told Mono that he was to suffer a thing far worse than death.

At last he saw something other than endless waves peer from the shadows. A tower of eyes, topped by an object that was obscured by the haze so Mono could not tell what it was.

He approached the heap cautiously, before deciding it looked no less safe than anything he had already dealt with, and climbed onto it. He scaled the mound, faintly curious about the greyish brown figure at its top.

Mono felt his heart sink. It was a chair. He ran his worked hands over the wood, unable to care as splinters pricked him and stuck into his skin. The chair was nothing of importance— it was not of grand design or elegant color, and yet it felt like it would be something that affected the rest of his pathetic existence. It was the only other item from the "normal" world lost in this shadowed pit.

He felt compelled to sit in the chair then, and once he did, it dawned on Mono. This was what he was destined for— to be the tall, slender man who crept out of televisions and stole away people from those that love them.

Tears pricked in the corner of his eyes, and he didn't bother stopping them as they fell down his face silently. He was too exhausted to lift his arm to wipe them, and he was too sad to utter a sound.

He glanced up at the dark walls that surrounded him, and he felt a growing terror as he noticed they were closing in on the scene. Eyes poked out of them, all watching. Mono pressed his hands over his ears, not wanting to hear the bubbling sounds any longer. He closed his eyes tightly, wishing the creature would disappear whilst they were shut.

Suddenly, as he had pleaded inwardly for, he was somewhere else. The bulbous entity had vanished, taking its hundreds of eyes with it, and the floor was solid stone. Mono slowly straightened up, glad he was out of the peering gaze of the rotund monster.

The pale, dim light that somehow shone down onto the scene began to saturate into an eerie pink color, which was all too familiar to Mono. A chill ran up his spine as his dangling legs swung. If only it had been just a dream. A nightmare.

Years went by for Mono, and through them all he sat still in that same old chair. Every second of every day he was there, stuck behind an old grey door with an eye on it, blinded by a pink sun.

He grew tall, and lanky, and he was glad that the room he was in did not hold a mirror. He did not want to see what he had become. Not because of anything he had done, but simply because he did not want to see who he had been turned into over time.

He knew if he saw himself, he wouldn't be able to deny it anymore. He would no longer get to tell himself he was crazy. He would not be allowed to pretend he wasn't the Thin Man— the very thing he had run from for so long.

This was, after all, worse than death.