There was a skip in your step as you hopped down the stairs behind the stage, leaving behind the broken and bloody remains of the mannequins. Adrenaline was still coursing through your cells, leaving you on some strange sort of high. It was a different kind of rush than the one felt when winning a video game or going on a rollercoaster. It felt...rawer. Older. Like it had been in your roots since the beginning of time.
Even though your weapon was gone, you still felt confident enough in your abilities to take down the last remaining mannequin. You had your fists and feet, and if things went badly, then you'd use whatever was closest. If you had to, then you'd use the wall. If it was solid, it was a weapon.
In the distance, you could hear your mannequin's footsteps echoing through the labyrinthine corridors. They weren't in time with yours like you expected its footsteps to be, so you moved a little faster in the hopes of catching up with it.
Were you supposed to commit mannequin-murder? Probably not. Did you want to commit mannequin-murder? Kinda, yeah! If that mannequin was a representation of your past or a part of your present, you wanted it gone. Who knows—maybe it would trigger some cool character growth. Plus, it might release you back into the real world.
If you kept walking and distracting yourself, then maybe you would be able to forget the jar of apples. You knew that ignoring it forever wasn't going to help, but neither was thinking about it all the time.
And yet...Mik's words were stuck in your head, playing on loop with no option to pause. Had BEN really taken your dreams and stored them in a jar? It didn't make sense. There was nothing to gain by doing that because, depending on when the dreams were from and what they contained, you probably would have told him about them anyway. BEN wasn't dumb, and he certainly wasn't dumb enough to kill your closest friend just to get your attention. He was smarter than that. He had to be, because if he was, then he should have known that trying to isolate you would make you angry and depressed.
Even though you didn't want to think about it, if BEN had killed James, then no amount of sweet words would be enough to make you come crawling back. You were stubborn, opinionated, and willing to cut off your own emotions if it meant preserving your sanity.
Once again, your thinking time was cut short when something made a loud noise behind you, making you freeze and whirl around. Staring down the corridor at a creature you had never seen before, your breath was taken away as you began to back up, whispering, 'Shit,' over and over again.
What you saw was....difficult to explain. It was the mannequins you had just destroyed; there was no doubt about that, but something was wrong. Maybe it was because they had been fused together and consumed by the strange substance that had leaked out of their crumpled-up heads.
There were at least eight limbs protruding from its distorted body. Maybe more. You couldn't really tell. The cephalothorax was made out of your father's mannequin, and his head sat proudly atop his shoulders, fused together by tar. Your mother's head had been crudely attached upside-down to your father's chest, so it was staring at you with unblinking, manic eyes that made your skin feel like it was made out of worms.
The beast's other features weren't identifiable, but then again, you didn't look at it long enough to wonder which leg belonged to Frankie. Once your brain registered what it was seeing, your first thought was, 'Absolutely fucking not.' And then you ran. Again. For your life.
The sound of your footsteps and ragged breath were disguised by the clattering of the monster behind you as it scuttled through the hallway. From the way the corridor shook, it was likely that it was crawling along the walls and ceiling in a bid to try and reach you.
It didn't help that the monster was talking to you in a strange voice that sounded like a dozen different people all trying to speak over each other. Calling out your name like a prayer, it cooed at you to just, 'Stop running, darling,' and, 'I just want to talk to you.' It was all lies. You couldn't trust that thing, especially when there was something that looked suspiciously like blood around your mother's lips.
The panic of being caught and feeling those fibreglass fingers closing around your limbs once more kept you going, even when your lungs felt like they were being ripped to shreds. The memory of being bound by their invisible digits was too fresh in your mind, and apparently it affected you more than you thought, so you took the first turn possible into a thin corridor, hoping to try and lose the amalgamation that felt like it was getting closer and closer with every step.
It didn't work. When you turned sideways to shuffle through the corridor, the walls pressing against your back and your chest, your eyes darted to the right to check if you were safe or not, and it was slightly devastating to see that no, you weren't safe. The monster had copied you and was walking with its back pressed against a wall, your mother's head tilted at such an unnatural angle that any ordinary person's neck would have snapped immediately.
No. Your eyes widened in pure horror, and you wouldn't be surprised if even your eyeballs were trembling in their sockets. No, no, no, no, no!
You kept moving, too afraid to stop for even a second, because you knew that a second was all the monster needed to reach out and grab you. So far, your pace was enough to stay away—even though the monster was quick, it was still big and bulky, which slowed it down enough for you to create a consistent gap.
As with all things, the corridor came to an end, and it left you in a house of mirrors, much like the one at the yearly circus that visited town. With your hands held out in front of you, there was nothing left to do but run around blindly, relying solely on your hands to prevent you from charging head-first into a wall. (Haven't you done that once already in this hellscape?)
The maze's intention to confuse didn't work on you, but it sure as hell worked on the monster. You could hear it crashing into the mirrors and momentarily getting angered by its own reflection like a mindless dog, barking at its reflection, only to realise that it was nothing.
You took advantage of the monster's confusion to finally catch your breath, leaning against a mirror to relieve the ache in your poor knees. Once the pain in your chest and legs had lessened a bit, you started to walk again, taking advantage of the monster's lack of brain cells.
Deciding that there was enough distance between you and the monster, you whispered to yourself as you navigated the maze, using your hands and feet to get through as quickly as possible.
'This one?' you asked, your fingertips pushing against the cold surface of a mirror. 'Nope. Fuck.' Moving onto the next mirror, you once again briefly celebrated as you moved on through the maze.
At one point, the monster had fallen silent, and you hadn't noticed. You were too focused on making your way through the maze. When it crawled down behind you, chirping quietly like a mythical lizard, you only noticed it when it reached forward and grabbed your coat. When you felt its fingers brush against your back, you shrieked and tried to turn around, but its grip on your coat stopped you, so you slipped your arms out of the sleeves and ran.
No point in hanging around.
Eventually, though, the hall of mirrors came to an end, leaving you trapped in a corner as the monstrosity approached with alarming speed. Its arms were outstretched towards you, and soon its hands were clasping your own, holding them up above your head with a strength the mannequins hadn't possessed when they had tied you up earlier. You were trapped beneath its arachnid-like form.
Your mother's neck had twisted, so her forehead was pressing up against yours, and a bottle was perched between her teeth. The mouth of the bottle was pointed towards you, and it was half-filled with a dark liquid that stained the glass as it sloshed around.
'Drink!' the monster commanded in your father's voice, one of its arms reaching up to remove the bottle's cork, and the glass mouth was promptly rammed against your tightly shut lips.
You made a noise that would have been a loud 'No!' had your mouth been open, but there was no way in hell you were going to do what it said.
'Drink! Do it! Come on, you useless brat.' The rim of the bottle was pressed against your mouth even harder, making your teeth ache. 'Do as you're told for once in your pointless life.'
Shaking your head, you thrashed and kicked your legs, hoping to feel your feet connect with something that would make the monster back off. But...nothing worked. Its body was so twisted that you couldn't reach any of its limbs or its thorax, and once it noticed your wriggling, one of its many, elongated hands wrapped around your lower legs and held them down.
Eyes widening, you could feel yourself starting to hyperventilate, but you didn't open your mouth. You couldn't. The liquid in the bottle looked eerily similar to the tar that was rolling off of your clothes and hair like hydrophobic dust as it dripped down from the monster's frame. You had a feeling that it wasn't going to be so kind to your insides.
The monster lifted one of its spare hands and reached towards your mouth, and your stomach twisted in knots as you realised what it was planning.
Its going to open my mouth. I'm not doing it, so it's going to make me. Someone, help me, please!
It seemed like a waste to get this far. It was a waste to read what Mik had written, to hear what Iskra had said, and to see that fucking jar, only to die in the corner of a maze of mirrors. Whether or not Mik and Iskra were telling the truth was irrelevant now—if you died, you could never ask BEN about it. You could never go, 'Hey, I know you wouldn't do this, but I've been told this, and I really want to know what you think.' Or something like that.
...How many times have you thought about this while stuck in the weird realm? About dying? Five at least. Probably more. It was actually getting boring.
But you weren't the one who died. (God may not have been on your side, but luck certainly was.) As you kept wriggling, trying to free yourself from the monster's grip, something fell from the ceiling above, landing on the monster's shoulders.
if you're on tumblr and come across any fanart/headcanons for sebastian or haley from stardew valley please tag me ! my url is 'letmeeatlemons'. theres nothing writing related on there i just love stardew and wanna see as much fanart as possible
- k.