It's safe to say that no place is safe. As far as he knows it. And he's already caught in some sort of situation. Which is fairly common, especially when the skies are colored in a gloomy gray, with heavy mist passing and wandering on the ground and depressing clouds hovering over the land, the sea, and the dock house.
He can get the hint of it as he walks on a plank from one wall with an open vent to another, high above the wreckage of ruined fishing boats, crates, and ocean supplies that collide together. Almost like no one cares to completely organize them properly.
There were even racks with some placed in there, but yet, most of them were left unused.
Ropes, chains, and boards of wood were hung up on the ceiling. Even a table and chair were strapped up by some ropes and were left to hang up there. It's not something anyone would see, is it? He assumes this must be a small warehouse for boats. And he thinks it's small because there were much bigger warehouses that didn't just include boats. But from his pint size, it was also pretty large.
From what he can describe is the sound from inside of the warehouse, almost like muffled wind blowing, creaking steel shingles and girders, with slight rumbling echoes and unknown distant sounds coming from wherever outside. He loves listening closely to the sounds of things. That's what helps him stay alive. And why he has an acute sense of hearing.
The young boy casually kept walking across the plank as it creaked ever so slightly as if the wood was already rotting. He placed one foot over the other with his arms raised to form a T-pose to steady his balance. He wasn't too scared about falling. He had done this before. The only worst thing that could happen if he all of a sudden lost his balance and fell straight down into the wreckage. As brave as he is, he's also scared of the world. He doesn't want to be scared as he is taught that fear is his weakness and that it will never help with anything. But there's always a breaking point when you have to let it all out. He blinked every ten seconds, and his gaze shifted from down to his feet and forward where the window was, as he took extra precaution of his actions. He tries not to look down so much but never denies that when someone says, "Don't look down," you are urged to look down. Which is why he never tells himself that. Instead, he always says, "Look forward, look at your feet, and look forward again. That's what you need to know." And that process helps keep his balance linear. He didn't stumble one bit when most people who have to balance on something always do.
He was close to the window, only a few more steps forward. But just then... "Ah..." Hey!" He echoes.
A crow suddenly flew in his way, startling him, and almost making him fall. And it annoyed him as he was doing relatively well. The bird flew up out of a hole in the ceiling and sat on the ledge. The boy glared at it in irritation, but he didn't stay long to be bitter about it. He continued forward, passing the blue light that emitted through the hole, and made it to the border where the window was. He stepped on the pale wooden platform and knelt in front of the blurred and stained window, pulling up the latch first before he pushed it open as it creaked. He stepped out on a small, flat rooftop, glanced to his left, and viewed the rest of the building, along with the sight of the open ocean.
He doesn't know why but for the longest time he has been here, he always has this feeling that he lacks the capacity of having any other emotions, besides being determined, hardy, and somewhat bitter. As if he had already lost sadness or happiness. But he never had it to begin with. Not in birth, not in this world. It was all just determination and being strict. Every man, or boy for themselves.
He inhales and exhales as the slightly cold air breezes in his face. The excess straps of his bandana with glass-covered eye holes sway and are carried up by the gust. He feels slight goosebumps from the wind. Even feeling his bald head to be numb.
"It's just another day, trying to survive in this place... It's not like I'm gonna go home anytime soon. I don't even want to go home... It's not even my home."
The least he could do is make it until the very end, which he knows is inevitable, and he knows one day, he will be gone. So it's best to make every day worth a while.
He walked to the ledge and slid down the slanted roof. He grunted in surprise when he fell into the gutters as he stopped. It was filled with musk and moss with dirty water that stank so foul, and he was drenched in it. Oddly enough, he seems to be fine with it. If someone were to fall in here, they would surely reek in disgust. But not him. Although this boy seemed to be comfortable with the filth, it still irritated his nose a bit. When you learn to control something, you'll eventually get comfortable. He stood up and wiped most of the muck off of him. It stained his blue and white striped tank top concealed by his light brown field vest, which is his favorite outfit to wear, along with his tan field shorts. But at least he didn't lose his hip bag. He couldn't as it contained a utility he needed.
"Oh well." He murmured. "It'll dry up eventually. Not my first time."
He took a peek to his right, where he saw the aquatic-based city from afar in the mist and behind the grooves of trees.
He stares at it for a while, remembering how much he had been through... There were memories that seemed joyful,
but yet, it was all bittersweet. He hates dwelling on the past, especially what she did to make him feel worse.
His eyes and brows relaxed for a moment, but then he shook his head in concentration, closing his eyes firmly as if to force himself to readjust his focus on the current times.
No... I'm not gonna think about her. What happened before, I'm never going to let it happen to me again... I can't even remember her name anymore.
He then guides his view straight down, noticing how he was high up above a running flood of water, rustling and splashing about, which was narrow between the warehouse and the other building in front of him. There were long black ropes that were connected to each building with hooks and nooses hanging on most of them. Along with some dead fish and stained bags high above. It's a grim scenery, but not so much that would make him cringe in disturbance. He's close to being a child turned into stone...
He notices a long wooden plank that reaches through a shattered window that rests between both buildings, making a bridge out of itself. It must be sturdy enough to support his weight since he was around nine and a half to ten inches tall.
In this world...
He carefully got himself out of the gutters and dropped down, landing perfectly on the board. It creaked as he landed, but he was alright. He stood crouching before slowly raising himself and balancing gently as he walked across the rustling water from below. Due to his recent adventures, he's now grown used to this world and feels more confident. But who's to say that he wouldn't stay this way?
He was halfway there to the window. Just a few more steps...
The whistling wind blows across his face, almost feeling like it's going to push him over and plunge him into the water down below. But eventually... "Hm." Made it!
He carefully tries not to cut himself while crawling through the hole of the shattered window and drops down on the cold wooden floor after entering a dimly lit room with another window on the right that only reveals two spots of natural light passing through the boards of wood. He was still able to see as it wasn't completely dark. There were boxes and mannequins around the corners, a bed at the lower right corner, buckets containing something, and strangely, children's toys and drawings that were laid around the carpet in the center, and pinned on the walls. The boy examined the room thoroughly as he slowly walked in the middle of the carpet. He could still hear the muffled wind, but this time, it included a sound where you would hear a fan operating. From his perspective; it was either low or distant. His hearing has been improving ever since the city. He silently let out one little whisper to see if anyone else was here... "Hey?"... No one.
He wiped his bare feet on the carpet and picked up a drawing. It was a girl in a purple dress with a boy in a brown shirt. They're holding hands... "How sweet, yet somber.
He laid it down before he found another drawing after examining the first one: A boy in a blue shirt, who seemed to be sad and curled into a ball.
And he found another: A man in all black, and he's wearing a hat. "Oh...!" He couldn't explain why, but looking at these drawings felt heartbreaking to see. It's true when he believes that he rarely expresses emotions. But that's external. How are his emotions internally, even after leaving the city, is perplexing. He still feels that impact gravely and that he's losing a part of himself.
He slowly lowered down his left hand, where he was holding the paper, relaxing his fingers and letting it go as it floated to the floor. His head hung down as if he were feeling sad. But at the same time, he doesn't... In his mind, how his personality feels is complicated and perplexing to understand... It's haunting... And somber... He took a deep breath and walked over to the wall, where he found tally marks and names carved on it. It surprised him to see how many names and marks there were. "How many children like me were here?" He said. There were marks that said five days had passed on one spot. Then seven. Fifteen. Thirty-six. Forty-eight. Maybe even forever. It was disturbing... Their names... They write them here... "Ace. Dan. Coralie. Lonnie..."
He spotted more names... "Ruth. Riley. Ethan. Jord. Mike..."
And, once again, more names. Some even odd ones... "Tomah. Renn. Nulla. Laupie. Iris..."
"Hm.. Six... That one's interesting."
The boy stared at the wall of tally marks and names for a while and made a little decision... He brought his hip bag up and took out a little anchor with a rope tied to the ring. Using one of the hooks, he carved onto the solid stone wall close to the other names, along with a single tally mark down below... "N.... E.... And. W... There!"
"New... I like it."
New then walked a few steps to the right and stood in front of the door. At first, he thought it was closed, but he looked closer to see it was barely open, with just a tiny crack left. He pushed the door to try to open it, but something must be blocking his path. Confident, he gave one large shove on the door with his hands, causing it to open a bit further. Something outside made a scraping sound, and he peeked through the crack to see nothing but natural light from outside illuminating from somewhere. The door was still trapped, but the crack was big enough for him to squeeze through. New compressed himself through the door and entered a hallway somewhere, with two blinds covering windows in both directions and a door leading to another room at the very end to his left. He saw a heavy box blocking the door slightly. Who would've put it there is unknown.
New looked in both directions with puzzling thoughts but then got startled when he heard muffled groaning and grunting sounds that seemed to come from the next room behind the walls. It sounded like some sort of furious person with a deep, muffled voice who was shuffling items around, as he could also hear rustling and banging sounds as if you were to throw around a box of toys or other kinds of items.
There was no time to waste. He made his way to the right and down the stairway to the left at the end of the hall, with the floorboards creaking as he took each step on the old and pale wood. He looks back as he reaches the main floor. No one was behind him, thankfully, but the loud muffled noises continued. With more struggling and grunting sounds of whoever it was getting more agitated.
There wasn't anything good about this.
New examines the area despite it being mostly dark with only a single ceiling light with the lightbulb hanging from the cable down below, illuminating from afar. It was some sort of living room with an old, raged, and warped couch in the near center, with an elderly television sitting on a small drawer. There was also a tall and lengthy shelf table near a large furnace with firewood and a heap of filled up and stained gunny sacks at the far left corner, a shelf containing aquatic utilities such as a fishing rod, boxes of string, bait, a bucket hat, and more.
But what filled the atmosphere was the horrid and gut-wrenching scent of rotting meat, with flies dancing in the air enjoying the smell. He couldn't identify it, nor could he see exactly where it was coming from. It made him feel sick as he groaned, clenching his nose and cringing his face in disgust while bending down almost as if he couldn't stand up straight. That's how bad the smell was. Could it be... The gunny sacks? It's fairly unknown.
New was used to handle foul odors, but when it comes to something rotting and decaying so atrociously, such as this is beyond manageable.
"Ugh..." What is that? It's so awful!" What it was is also beyond figuring out at this time.
The young boy tries his hardest not to pay attention to the aroma. Instead, he urges to find a way to get out of here. He walks close to the center of the room and slowly steps in the circling beam of the ceiling light that is close to the table until he's almost directly under the light source. Looking around his surroundings, he views the enormous furniture, table, and shelf. The furnace was running a warm and blazing fire since he could see an ember glow from where he was standing, and the heat almost reached his distance.
And he finally notices where the awful stench of rotting carcass is coming from. It still made him sick and assumed there was something in those stained sacks he didn't want to see. Ugh... What's in those things?
He doesn't know how he'll be able to escape out of here: He can't use the windows because they're all boarded up and too high to reach, nor can he get the handle of the door. With someone upstairs doing whatever they're doing is a warning sign of danger.
New doesn't want to stay here any longer, and he feels anxious about it even though he hates it.
Based on the appearance of this room having fishing gear, it seems that whoever is in this building must be a fisherman. Or women if they are female. But would a woman want to do a dirty job such as fishing? Most unlikely from New's beliefs.
New couldn't think of any other solution. He's too lost to find a way out. He can hear a large muffled pound coming from upstairs along with more groaning sounds. It seems like whoever it is must be preparing to come down at a very bad time.
Ok, I need to find a way out. Find a way out.... But which way could be out? This place is not helping me at all.
By instinct, he pulls out a chair that is tucked in the table and jumps up to climb on the seat, pulling himself up. He then leaped up and grabbed on the ledge to repeat the same. He can see the entire room now as if he were a tower in a city. He turns slowly around in a three-hundred and sixty-degree rotation: able to see the couch, the television, the furnace, and the stained sacks. Along with streaks of blood stains and gashes on the tabletop where he was at. With the many fish heads and severed fingers from a person, and a clever pinned on the upper left edge. The flies paraded above the table, even crawling around the stains of blood and fish heads. No explanation was needed to understand that this place was much grimmer than ever imagined. New wasn't at all disturbed by the finger.
"Hmm..." Well, that's gross. But I need to find somewhere to go!"
New can't tell what to do next, he couldn't stay there for long and he knew it. He never trusted anyone other than his instincts, but he relies on them more now than ever. Even after leaving what he has forgotten already. His instincts, kicking in again, told him to look up, and he didn't notice it before but there was a chain with a hook hanging above him and from a large gash in the wooden ceiling. It was too high after trying to jump up and get it. Which gave him an idea:
He took out his anchor from his hip bag and tested the rope to ensure it was sturdy enough. That's good! He held the rope with his left hand, holding the end with the anchor, and his right holding the rest of the coil. New looked up at the hook and slowly swung his hand backward, swinging the rope in a vertical circle like how a cowboy would swing his lasso. The rope swung faster in every spin with the anchor, giving more leverage until he finally let go, throwing the anchor up in the air and to the chain. The anchor caught onto the hook successfully. "Yes. There we go!"
He tugged down on the rope firmly and found it comforting enough. And now, for the next part: He jumped up and held tightly on the rope with his bare feet off the tabletop, and began climbing up with his hands gripping tightly and his knees pinching on the rope as he moved like a caterpillar climbing a tree. He was halfway up and reached the hook. He secured his right foot on the curved metal and carefully retrieved his anchor back in his hip bag along with the rope by coiling it back in his bag. Now it's the chain he has to climb up.
But his luck was only running low, as he then froze in place after hearing the sound of a door swinging open, with muffled footsteps above... Oh no... He climbed up faster with anxiousness running through his body as he placed one hand and foot above the other. The sound of a door closing can be heard and footsteps walking from upstairs and making their way down. His heart was racing as he climbed faster for his life. The chain jingled slightly as he reached the top and climbed inside the ceiling. Just in time before whoever it was spotted him as the footsteps were heard as clear as day, knowing that they were already downstairs now.
He barely got a single glimpse of the person, but nor did they ever see him either. He was only lucky to be alive as he lay on the wood of the inner floor, face upwards. Taking deep breaths to ease himself.
"That was too close! But at least I've made it!"
He pushed himself up in a crouched posture as the space was narrow from the roof and floor. With nothing but darkness, that was hard to see. He took out his handheld lightbulb from his pocket that he crafted with a battery and pulled the string to turn it on, with a click when pulled down and another after it shined, allowing him to see. There wasn't anywhere else to go as the boards blocked every direction. All except one that led somewhere down to his left. From what he could see, there were small bits of dirt, dust, and grime on the floor, old and empty tin cans scattered, torn paper and clothing, shards of glass, and a little spider web. New walks in that direction, but as he does so, he can hear loud moaning sounds from below in the living room, and the muffled sound of meat being intensely chopped, torn, and beaten can be heard with grotesque squelching. It was disturbing since New remembers the smell of the stained gunny sacks and the many fish heads from the table. As for the severed fingers, they won't be discussed.
Whoever this guy is, he's not friendly at all! And I think it's a man since he sounds like one...
He reached the end of the floor and found a wooden trapdoor right in front of him, facing directly from the wall. There was only the slightest of light coming from the cracks in the trapdoor which must indicate it opens to outside. New turned off his lightbulb and tucked it away in his pocket to open the trapdoor.
He gave all of his might and opened the door far enough to pass through. He fell straight down, not knowing where he was falling until he landed in a cluster of rubbish, disposal bags, and decaying fish that were compacted together in an enormous container. His landing wasn't hard, nor was it soft.
He brought himself out of the trash and sat there almost covered in filth again. "Wow!" He said as he sighed in amazement. He could see the container was overloaded with piles of muck, chum, and rotting fish with flies swarming around, dancing in the odor. Along with crushed tin cans, rotting fish heads, and more bags with red stains. It almost frightened him in shock as his eyes widened in disbelief to see a human arm barely peeking out from one of the bags. This place means trouble... I can't stay here.
New brought himself onto his feet and carefully walked past through the waste as he stepped on the wretched meat of fish, and supposedly, human. He dropped down on the wooden floor of a roof. He can hear the whistling wind once again, alongside the rustling water from the ocean waves from his left, splashing against the docks far from where he was.
He allowed his ears to distinguish the outside audio again, hearing the wind breezing and whistling, the sound of slightly aching metal, and the ambiance of the entire area.
Sound does come as a form of art to him. There were even seagulls talking and communicating with each other from either around the building or from afar, even some resting on the roofs around.
"If I was able to, I could snatch one of them for me to eat. An anchor on string can't do that, though," mumbled the young boy.
Seeing a different view, he can see the rest of the dock house, with a long and wide part of the building on his right with a row of windows, a watch tower on his right-hand side used to signal boats from afar, and a large balcony right below him that's partially destroyed and looks like it was on the brink of collapsing. It was mesmerizing to New. He doesn't know why, but he could stare at the misty scenery all day. He noticed quickly, after squinting his eyes where he found docking platforms around the shore and stretching out to the water, where fishermen would park their boats.
He also saw the front part of the shed peeking out from the corner of the end of the building from his perspective.
That must be the shed for boats. Maybe I can find one to set sail to the seas... If I can try to use one, I hope!
He turned to his right and looked down where another small and dilapidated roof could be found below, with a large heap of nasty rubbish compacted against the wall to his right again, almost forming a tall tower. The roof was missing boards and looked very old. But he took the chance anyway.
"If I want to reach my destination, sometimes I have to do something really dangerous looking. Here we go!"
New lifted his right foot and allowed his left to follow, dropping himself on the roof. But right after his bare feet touched the rotting wood, he gasped in surprise as he broke through the roof, breaking the wood as it clunked and falling hard on his side on what seemed to be a wooden crate. He grunted from the harsh impact and moaned in pain as he picked himself up. The roof doesn't seem to be useful anymore now.
"Argh!... That hurts!" He groaned.
A spot of natural light beamed through the hole he broke through, yet he still couldn't see anything except the crate he was now standing. He held his sore left arm as he also landed on it and looked around in the darkness... Almost nothing in sight. Which makes it more skeptical.
He hears some tiny moist patting noise as if something wet with a sticky substance is patting a smooth surface, along with a tiny and cranking squealing noise that seems to be struggling as if a mouse is trying to speak but is having a hard time. Curious, New dropped down from the crate landing on the smooth concrete floor, and took out his light bulb, pulling the string down with a click, and the bulb lit with its golden glow as it revealed something terrorizing that surprised him.
New sees a spread-out horde of small but enormous worms that have no eyes, no nose, but maws that could swallow any little creature whole. There must've been ten, fifteen, or even twenty, and they moaned and squealed in the same struggling and cracking noise he spotted. They flopped and slithered around with their moistened body, leaving wet drag marks on the smooth floor from the slimy substance on their bodies.
The young boy's eyes widened in surprise and stood on foot back as a form of stance. The worms were drawn to the splashing noise of a water puddle where New dropped down. They moved towards him with their mouths opening and closing as if they were preparing to swallow him. He swiftly looked left to right and back in anxiousness due to the slithering parasites, hoping to find an opening to escape. He found one and took the chance. Gripping his light bulb more firmly, he ran through a gap, avoiding the worms as best as he could. They slowly slithered towards him as he ran with the puddles his feet were splashing in, drawing more attention. There was no point in being stealthy since they had already felt his presence.
The young boy had his mind spiraling as he ran past the horde of worms, almost getting caught during the process and knocked down a bucket with something rotten inside to know if that would help. The bucket clanked right after he pushed it. He didn't think it would work. He wasn't thinking at all. He simply wanted to find a way out as he dodged and jumped over every worm that slithered in his way. His light bulb guided him forward until he reached the wall and found a wooden board blocking a stone vent grate.
He quickly pushed away the board as the worms kept squealing and slithering towards him. But he was able to evade the situation after crouching through the grate and falling onto what felt like a wooden floor again. He landed on his feet and bent down, holding onto one of his knees with his left hand, still holding his light bulb in exhaustion and anxiousness as he breathed rapidly.
"Ugh.... It gets worse every day. And I'm still alive somehow!"
He pulled the string of his light bulb down, turning it off since there was enough natural light peering from the gashes in the high roof from above to see clearly enough around a slim area that felt like it was the interior of a wall of the building. The young boy assumes he must be high up due to looking down and seeing a misty depth with the thin clouds covering whatever is at the bottom. There were also wooden support beams with some built horizontally, vertically, at an angle, and some even snapped in half. There were even thin wooden boards built on some beams as if to make platforms but are partially broken.
New stood on the support beam, keeping very still to not fall. Using his sense of hearing, he examines the audio again; noticing the vague ambiance of the supposed interior wall, with the muffled sound of wind breezing from the outside that the gashes from the roof emitted.
He also noticed muffled thumping noises from the other side, almost expected from him, along with the distanced sound of the worms that New evaded consuming something that resembles too closely to meat. Possibly, the bucket that the young boy pushed over contained something edible for them. As well as grotesque.
"Ok, so I'm somewhere here... So now what? I guess maybe I can go that way."
New carefully turned himself to the right and placed one foot over the other slowly. He walked forward where the wooden beam could take him. He went on for what felt like less than two minutes until he reached the end. His hands were raised and widened to keep his balance. He wasn't at all scared. He'd done this before, once again. The ambiance seems more audible to him as his hearing enhanced to gain more information about the area. He saw another beam on his left and slowly turned to it, and with enough confidence, he leaped forward, landing perfectly. He resumed walking forward, only paying attention to either his feet or his direction. As he moved, the light slowly got dimmer since there were barely any more gashes in the roof for more visibility. Until something caught his attention that made him stop for a moment... In a dimmer part of the inner wall, there was a small but noticeable glow of golden light, just like the glow his light bulb had. He couldn't see where it was coming from due to his perception angle, but it came from somewhere in the dark area. He carefully made his way to the light, careful not to rush forward on the beam.
What's over there...?! What's over there?!
He soon found out, since, after a few more steps, he reached where the light was coming from. A large crack in the wall, big enough for a child like him to enter through. New is not the kind of boy to be drawn so easily, especially when he feels like it's a hoax or threatening. And that's where his trust issues came from. But he doesn't believe at this moment that the light could be a warning. It could lead to somewhere... He compacted himself in, pushing into the crack, and what he found was beyond his expectations.
New finds a small room with a large lantern in the middle.
"So that's where the light came from!"
There was also makeshift furniture that would fit his size along with the decor. A ragged T-shirt in the middle as a carpet, a wide cardboard box in the lower right corner as a table with little cylinder cups as the chairs, four hacky sacks as living room chairs up against the far wall, a teddy bear at the upper left corner for some purpose, two other cardboard boxes stored on the left for something as well, toys such as balls, tin top spinners, rubber duck, and a cymbal monkey to play with, and drawings made from children pinned almost on all four walls and some even on the floor with crayons of different colors. Red, blue, yellow, green, and a few others.
Woah... This looks... Amazing!
New was mesmerized by the scenery and stepped slowly and stopped before the lantern. As if he had never seen something like this before. Or even felt it, either.
"Hey!" He said, checking to see if anyone was present... No one. The lantern's flame was dying at every minute, and yet somehow, it was able to catch his attention from the interior of the walls he was once in. It's almost like it had a mind of its own. He knelt to the lantern, with his left hand on his knee, seeing its glowing, orange, and yellow little flame and feeling its warmth. The flame was shrinking less than a centimeter, as it allowed its last remaining energy to give the young boy life in the room. New feels the lanterns' sadness and despair of loneliness, even though it was strange to believe an inanimate object could even have emotions. He stared deeply into the flame, intertwined with the glow, until he stood up and looked around again and noticed something at the right corner from ahead. It looked like a yellow paper with scribbles on it, possibly from a child based on the writing. Out of curiosity, he walked over to it slowly until he got near it and took it off the wall. It was some note or message from someone who must've left this here.
"Huh... I wonder who left this?!"
New decides to read the note on the spot and out loud as follows:
"To whom it may concern.
I don't know if anyone will get this message, but if anyone does, I hope you'll understand what happened here. I used to hide here with me and my friends who are trying to survive this world of monsters, and we've been struggling to find a place to stay since no one is ever nice to you to even help you. It's everyone for themselves, and it makes me sad because I wish we didn't have to live like this. But me and my friends stayed with each other, knowing that we would never survive alone and that we needed each other for support. We've found this place a long time ago, where no one was here for a long time. At least at the moment. We've decided to make it our new home 'cause we didn't think we'd ever go back to our real home. I loved having my friends around, and we'd even go find some things to make it feel like a home. We'd tell stories, eat leftover food from trash bins (good enough for us to eat), and play with toys we've found. At some moments, we felt sad, missing our old lives, and hoped that someday we could come back. But I hate to say it, but I don't think any of us in this world will ever go home. And I think what happened next made me believe that. My friends and I went out one day to find more things for our home, but then we ran into a man with a black fishing hat, black fishing clothes with a weird gas mask on his face, and he held a gun with a spear. We ran away as fast as we could, but I was the one who could only escape. 2 of my friends died right in front of me with his spear gun, and the others were taken away to somewhere I don't know. I couldn't do anything but hide and watch them get taken away. My friends are gone, and I think it's all my fault, I should've done something to help them. I don't know if the others are alive anymore, but I don't want to know. And now I'm all alone, sad, and crying because of what happened. I miss my friends every day and wish I could see them again. This doesn't feel like home anymore. Not without my friends. That's why this note is here. To say that I left this place a long time ago. And I hope that whoever finds this remembers to survive with your friends while you still can. Or survive on your own for your survival. Whichever one you choose, just leave this place, and this world."
New looks up at the wall, seeing the names of the supposed children who had met their fate from the note, carved on the wooden wall.
"Laika. Paris. Joel. Bonnabel. Ghibli. Amy P...." He then looked down to the bottom of the note, seeing the name of the last surviving child and the original writer of the message.
"Mary-Kate... A girl."
New felt heavy in his heart after understanding the history of this dock house. He didn't expect such a tragic backstory of this aquatic building. He felt numb around his body, as well as sadness. He didn't want to be sad, but he couldn't help it and almost shed a tiny teardrop but resisted. He then noticed that the room was getting darker. The flame from the lantern was close to being completely gone as he looked back and noticed. But he also saw something strange that surprised him a little.
A dark, misty-looking figure that seems to be a ghost with a dark gray cloak and glowing white eyes, staring at New. He didn't jump at all, but he stood there in amazement and confusion as he turned his entire body around to face the spirited figure, tilting his head to the side, completely mesmerized. Tiny dark gray particles moved around its body, and it even blinked at him like an actual person. They both stayed in place, not moving one bit with stern eye contact with each other. The young boy considered its appearance much further and figured out that this entity must be a girl. Could it be..?
"Mary-Kate?" He said.
The ghost didn't utter a word. It doesn't seem like it has a face other than her eyes. But its appearance is vaguely close to a young girl, and he noticed that it has short but long hair like one. Until it suddenly spoke in a soft, echoing, and feminine voice...
"You understand now what I have been through... I hope you make it to the very end just like I did!"
... Eventually, she vanished away, leaving him all alone again. The flame to the lantern has finally faded away, leaving the young and amused boy in the dark.
New let out a sigh of disappointment and mumbled desolately, asking himself... "Why does this have to happen?"
This is a question he will never be able to answer.
He didn't want to stay there any longer now... He felt vulnerable. A feeling he rarely had.
He turned glumly around to the not, feeling guilty... But then he noticed in confusion an outline of light coming from the roof above his head. He squinted closely, adjusting his vision to see some sort of trap door built in the corner of the ceiling with a little bit of light peeking through the outline. It was a little too high for him to reach, but remembering the layout of the room, he walked over to a hacky sack and dragged it over to the door as it scratched on the wooden floor. He then picked up and placed a cylinder chair on the hacky sack for extra height.
I don't even know what these things are. Maybe a toothpaste cap or bottle? I don't know...
He slowly stepped one foot on the top and then the other, lifting himself to the trapdoor. He pushed it open with one hand, and it creaked open, with the door revealing what seemed to be somewhere that had natural light. New couldn't understand where it led and jumped upwards and brought himself up on the floor of a crawl space of a wooden floor with a hole that was right around the trapdoor he exited through.
"This must've been another way where Mary-Kate and her friends would go and leave the room... They really must've been here for a long time!" He mumbled, still amused by how these children endured this environment. He noticed there were windows on a wall to the outside of the wooden floor and a roof high above. He climbed over and stepped onto the floor of the room, with his bare feet and his body already sensing the chilling floorboards and atmosphere. It was some sort of hall that was as big as a meeting hall for ceremonies or hotel banquets. He wouldn't notice it due to the horde of wooden crates, stuffed gunny sacks, large pieces of fabric, drawers, and piles of dirty shoes and clothing around. The young boy also noticed smaller sacks hung up to the ceiling with the same dark red stain he had seen before, along with fish skewered and on hooks. They seemed to be fresh, as they didn't emit the same foul odor from before, nor was it a good indication.
"Someone's here." He mumbled.
His hearing takes over to observe the audio of the area, almost the same as the living room from before: Muffled wind from outside, tapping on the windows. But this time, there's an unknown sound from a distance that New catches on immediately. It sounded like some sort of voice, moaning and grumbling, like when a man is bitter. The windows may be as clear as day, but the hall was crowded with clusters of heavy items and others, making it dimly lit but still manageable. The young boy couldn't find anywhere else to go, especially since the door leading to the dock house inside was blocked off with boxes... His only best chance to get to the docking platforms is to get to the other end of the hall, where the strange voice might be. He didn't want to put himself in danger again, but what choice does he have?
New was about to move around to the right of the table, but before doing so, he looked back to the trapdoor where the hidden room was. He lowered down, and before shutting it closed, he gave his condolences to the fallen and broken group of children. Even to the last one.
"Goodbye, Mary-Kate... I hope you and your friends will meet again!"
He pushed the trapdoor closed, concealing the secret of the dock house. Until another waltz in, it remains secretive.
But now is the time to go!
New slowly walked around the fallen table to the right, walking forwards through a path with a wall of stacked crates and boxes on his left, with fishing nets, bags, and spears on the right, along with more ahead and other objects he couldn't identify. At this moment, the young boy doesn't feel too anxious and has gained some more confidence than before. He's not feeling the fear he had growing up in this sort of environment back in the waking world that other children called.
"I'm not going to be afraid anymore, I'm doing this... I'm Doing This Now!" He mumbled firmly, making a strong facial expression.
However, it wouldn't be long until the young boy faced challenges that could differ from his claim. He has passed through the path through the cluster of items and finds himself in a more open area with clear, natural light from the window, completely illuminating the entire area. A humongous heap of aquatic supplies partially blocked his entire path, almost engulfing the entire frame of the hall, but only leaving a gap between the ceiling and itself. There were fishing nets, small wooden fish crates, prosthetic parts, fishing spears, and more gunny sacks. Everywhere he goes, he will always find something morbid.
Oh boy... I might die here. But call it a blessing, a curse, a bit of both; I call it useless... A statement for compunction. Fitting...
He can hear the noise of the grumbling person almost more clearly but still a bit distant. It sounds like a man, I know it!
The young boy looks to his left and sees a large table with freshly caught fish hanging on hooks from the ceiling. He walks to the near center of the spotlight to gain a better view. Walleye, salmon, steelhead, trout, red drum, largemouth bass, I've seen these before... Who would've caught these? But what caught his attention the most was a pig slaughtered open and sitting on the table with a sort of black and thick treacle substance spewing from his cut-opened stomach and dripping on the wooden floor. There was also a brown hag hanging from the ceiling that had the formation of a human hanging upside down, with a rope strapped around its supposed neck.
New looks at the scenery with little to no dread. The young boy doesn't seem to be uncomfortable about the grim sight...
Ok, so... This is new to me!.. But not scary?!
I gotta go now. I can't stay here for a long time!
New turns to the pile of aquatic supplies and with a running start, he leaps onto the pile from the bottom, holding onto a fish crate, and slowly climbs his way up, grabbing different objects with his hands and placing his bare feet up high. They shifted slightly as he put his weight on each item that creaked as if the contents would tumble down. He grabbed onto another fish crate, pulled himself up, and stepped on a sack to give himself more leverage. The young boy was halfway up, until...
CRASH!
"Ahh!... What the...?" He whispered. "Something just pushed this thing!"
Or rather someone... The pile of aquatic equipment shook as if someone must've thrown something at it, causing some items to tumble down. Prosthetic limbs clattered down, crates tumbled and crashed on the floor, sacks scuffed along, and spears pinned onto the floor as the cold, metal dinged straight after impact. New merely held on firmly to not fall back down. He was barely fearful, but nervous that he'd get caught by whatever had caused the rumble, looking down at the floor to see the many items that fell on the floor... A creaking sound can be heard, and New swiftly looks up. A spear coming from a hole in the ceiling as facing the young boy, slowly inching closer about to fall. His heart raced, and his eyes widened. He climbed up faster, not giving care if he pushed anything else off the pile, and reached a fishing net up. Grabbing it in mere seconds before the spear could strike the young boy. He was very close to being impaled. It only got a fishing crate, and New looked back to see how close he was to death. He couldn't have imagined being killed in such a horrifying manner as his heart thumped in his chest and goosebumps crawled in his skin. Challenges... As expected.
... Yeah, I'm definitely gonna die! But, I hope it'll be worth it!
He then just realized that he had forgotten about the grumbling sound of the person on the other side. He stopped and paid attention to the sounds again: It was all the same, but this time, he could hear what sounded like meat being torn and cut open, with squelching organs being spattered around, and the muffled moaning sound of a man could still be heard. He suspected that his voice must be muffled not by the distance but because it sounded like he was wearing a mask.
New has a great idea as to who this being might be.
He climbs to the very top, almost getting a perfect view of the rest of the hall, with the clear windows still revealing the scenery. Up ahead were slightly bent and warped shelves of fish scattered around on his close right, tables of dark brown sacks huddled up together and stacked on the floor, almost resembling human figures, with strong ropes wrapped around their supposed necks. There were also heavy crates stacked around and scattered on the floor, hooks tied to ropes hanging from the ceiling, thin metal ropes also hanging from the ceiling, and knives in different sizes hanging from some of the hooks. Small, big, fat, and blunt ones that a butcher would use. New felt chills coming down his body, even though he stated that he wasn't going to be fearful anymore. It was proven wrong at this moment. He sees more fish crates on his left, stacked on top of one another like a tower. But he looks closer to seeing little paper tags stuck on each box, resembling it too closely like price tags.
Price tags... Does he sell fish for... People?.. Don't people sell stuff for money?... Maybe that's not what he desires!
He gets the idea out of his head, focusing on his objective. Seeing a carpet laid perfectly on the pile, he turned his legs forward and slid down on the carpet carefully like a slide, with his bare feet landing on the wooden floor, grunting. He's only a few feet away from whoever it was. He peeked from the corner of the tower of crates, getting a good glimpse of the being:
Dirty black boots. Black pants. Black rubber coat. Thick gloves. Spear gun. Backpack. Fishing hat... Gas mask!
At that moment, New found the Fisherman occupied with some sort of carcass he was butchering with a knife. A strange liquid was dripping from his wet gloves, and he wheezed under his mask as he tore the meat apart, with his spear gun resting against the table.
New immediately took a dislike to him and understood completely why Mary-Kate had to leave this place. He remained in his crouched posture as he watched the man with nervousness and could already tell it would be more difficult to avoid him. His heart pounded as he took the chance to slowly walk while crouching past the horrific Fisherman. His way to freedom was just up ahead, and he had to get past this humongous man.
Ok... just take it slow! Or it grows!
The floor creaked only slightly but not enough to disturb the man. New wasn't anxious about making noise; he was anxious about getting caught again. Looking forward, he can see a tight space between two crates he could compact through. He peered at the Fisherman again, who was still occupied with his work. He reached the crates, but he couldn't squeeze himself through the skinny opening.
I gotta push one aside to get through, but...
He looked to his left where the man was...
Ok. When I push it far enough. Run!
New placed his hands on the box on his right, groaning silently as he pushed the heavy crate slowly. He noticed. With his hearing, the Fisherman stopped carving his carcass for some odd reason. He couldn't wait any longer and gave one massive shove to the crate. It scraped loudly that the Fisherman turned his masked face to his right, and as soon as the young boy made enough space, he ran for his life, with bare feet dabbing on the wooden floor swiftly. Suddenly...
CRASH!!!
"Ahh!" He yelped and stumbled in shock as a powerful pop could be heard, and a giant spear swiftly passed him inches away and struck into a tower of crates, with splinters of wood flying. He didn't try to look back or stop sprinting and passed through multiple boxes and gunny sacks as the Fisherman, groaning in anger, reloaded his spear gun to fire his next round, inserting the pole of the spear into the barrel of the gun. New couldn't guide himself clearly through the cluster of boxes and bags. His instincts were telling him to simply run and never look back. His anxiousness increased, and he ducked his head as the second spear from the Fisherman's spear gun, struck close to him, piercing through a table and on the wooden floor. He nearly fell while stumbling but stabled himself as he continued to flee from the man.
The Fisherman bashed away many boxes and sacks and pushed away a tower of crates, crashing on the ground as he walked forward to eliminate the young boy. He wheezed and groaned in irritation and took out another spear from his heavy backpack, reloading his gun with it. New ran into a large and stuffed gunny sack in the way and climbed over it with rapid fear as the man reloaded his gun, and resumed running until another pop went off as the third spear barely caught New as he stumbled in pure shock and fear.
The spear pierced through the wooden floor as well as breaking off the leg of a large table with brown sacks piled on top. The young boy took notice and ran as fast as he could as the table collapsed. Snapping and cracking as the heavy sacks break it apart with their weight and tumbling down towards him. His heart raced faster and faster, and he was quick enough not to get trampled by the tumbling brown sacks. He fell on his knees and yelped again in shock as another spear struck close to him and felt a little bit of strange substance staining him. The Fisherman shot another spear that only slashed open one of the brown sacks that splattered out blood onto him and the floor. He got back up and ran quickly to the end of the hall, almost making it there as the Fisherman reloaded his gun while walking.
He panted in exhaustion with the soles of his feet being sore and wished he could stop, but couldn't... I'm almost there. Almost there!... Wait. How can I get in the door?
New stopped in place for a second to realize he couldn't reach the doorknob, and the Fisherman would be catching up soon. The man pushed through the many brown sacks out of his way aggressively as he groaned louder in pure anger. New looked back and forward, knowing he was in deep trouble and needed to find a way quickly. He swiftly looked around and up to see a large hole in the wall with only the slightest light peeking out right next to a tower of crates. He didn't hesitate for a second to run over and climb up the tower, placing one hand over the other, one leg over the other, as another spear that the Fisherman shot struck the door down below, being pinned on the wood and making the young boy startle for a short moment until he continued. He climbed up the tower with every strength he had when his body was sore and exhausted, and the Fisherman got closer and closer, feeling like he was breathing down his neck. The man tried to reload his spear gun with another spear, but it somehow got stuck trying to insert his spear in the barrel, making him pause in place as he tried to fix the weapon to get it to function, giving New extra time to escape. The Fisherman groaned in anger behind his gas mask, trying to tinker with the notch, muzzle, and trigger mechanism, and hit the gun multiple times until he got it to work. New's climbing process was slow, but he was aligned to the hole right on time, as the man reloaded his spear gun, he raised it to the young boy's level and aimed it directly towards him. He quickly pushed himself through the hole as another pop emitted, and the spear struck the tower of crates, causing it to collapse and crash down.
New was lucky enough to survive, as he made it through the hole and fell from a few feet above, landing on the hard, wooden deck for the boat shed. He grunted and moaned in pain after landing on his right side and quickly got up to hide as the door to the hall, blocked with a single board of wood banged and rustled. He staggered but swiftly walked over and dropped himself into the shallow water below his level and swam under the deck just before the Fisherman burst through the door as the board of wood clanked on the floor.
Silence has seized the moment. With both of them not uttering a sound...
The young boy stayed still, not moving one bit while looking up at the Fisherman from the gaps of the deck, with his heart beating at an almost natural pace. Only the sound of the calm waters swaying, the outside wind breezing, and the ambiance can be heard.
The man with the spear gun held his weapon in his right hand as he scanned the entire boat shed for him, wheezing and moaning as he breathed hard through his mask. He hung the belt of his spear gun on his right shoulder and leaned into his backpack and took out a lantern, lighting it on with a twist of a knob and illuminating his way through the dimly lit and enormous boat shed. He held it up to a certain level and grabbed his spear gun again, ready to go hunting for the young boy, as he walked along the creaking deck with his heavy boots, looking around to find his prey.
New watched him walk away with the man unaware that he was hiding under the deck until he was far enough away to be out of sight. He slowly walked forward with his bare feet under the shallow waters, carefully observing his surroundings to ensure the man was nowhere to be found. A distanced sound of a door creaking open and closing can be heard as the echoes boom around, concluding his last encounter with the Fisherman... For now.
He let out a sigh of relief... "That was scary!" He whispered. He realized just that he made it to where he wanted to go. After running and being pursued by a mad spear-wielding man. And he just realized right now he was holding his breath and exhaled from surprise... He was exhausted from his trails, and it was a fitting moment to finally set sail for a new destination.
After stepping out from his hiding spot, he turned around to the deck and reached for his hip bag, almost submerged under the water, and took out his anchor again and spun it in mid-air with his wrist in motion, letting it go and latching onto a wooden beam of the deck. He tugged it down gently, finding it stable, and jumped up slightly, with water splashing, to climb up on the rope doing the same caterpillar motion and drops raining from his outfit, with some of the blood washed away from him as well. He gripped his hands on the wooden ledge, pulled himself up on the deck, and rolled on his back, exhausted as he breathed heavily...
This is such a rough journey... I need to get up... and get some sleep soon!
He rolled onto his side and displayed his palms on the floor as he brought himself straight up and unhooked his anchor off the beam, recoiling the rope and stuffing it back in his hip bag.
He stood in place with his gaze, looking down at the water where his reflection was shown. Seeing something mysterious right in front of him that he'd always been... They claim everything that enters over time when perception differs and memories fade. But he will lose his chains eventually.
After a moment, he looked to his left where the gateway to the boat shed was. It was big and wide, close to the size of a train in a side profile, and it led to the outside and the open oceans and where the rest of the docking platforms were. Amazed by the scenery.
He jolted his head to the right to ensure that the Fisherman wouldn't come back. Nothing but a door, tables with construction tools, and diagram prints pinned on the walls. There were also no boats in sight, not inside or outside. But New could spot something from afar. What seems to be a small boat or a different object? It may only be his best hope.
He couldn't say another word, not from his mouth or his mind, and started sprinting to the end of the docking platform he was on, with his dirty and wet bare feet dapping on the wooden floor. He reached the gateway and then passed it. Embracing the outdoor light again, he feels the wind breezing against him and whistling, with the ocean waters rustling calmly and swaying from left to right, and the heavy white clouds almost concealing the open ocean that becomes a mystery to him. He didn't stop sprinting with his arms swinging up and down and back and feeling the power of a horse.
He then slowed down inch by inch as he came closer to the boat that he concluded was there. It was parked fairly close to the end of the platform, which felt odd to New as it would've made more sense to dock it closer to the shed or even inside. Nonetheless, the young boy was glad to have found a utility for transport. Only now, he has to figure out how to row in his size. He stood next to the boat, staring at it, wondering how he would be able to manage it.
He was wandering in his thoughts without thinking of a single word in mind, but ultimately just stepped forward and leaped into the boat. He landed perfectly and scanned the interior, seeing nothing else but two paddles and a coil of strong rope.
He doesn't want to give up so easily, not after the complications he has been through. But with a pint-sized boy like him, it's always bound to have difficult limitations.
He kept looking for any solutions. However... he looked up in surprise to see a shadow cast by the natural light on the side of the boat opposite from where his perspective was. It took the form of some sort of person with a hat... A hat with a large brim...
He felt numb suddenly. And he slowly turned around with chills running down his arms, legs, and back, to see... A large man. Wearing a thick gray coat with a scarf. His face stretched downwards like melted candle wax, even his skin tone had a grim beige color, and he only had vertical black slits for eyes. And a hat he wore that looks familiar as a fedora.
The man didn't utter a single word and only stood there gazing at the young boy who gazed at him back. He was not threatened by his presence... He remembers him now.
"Who are you?" New speaks... "Why are you here...?"
He responded in a gravely but gentle deep masculine voice that the young boy feared not... A voice all too familiar...
"Sight emits from immortal skies..." Cries of all heeded... Barriers of heart futile... Nowhere claims all."
New couldn't understand the words that he spoke from his non-existent mouth. But he felt secure in the hands of the supposed candle man's presence.
"I... Need to go somewhere..." Somewhere that's far... Far away!"
Silence eroded until he spoke again...
"Dark meets neutral, with approval... A gap to obtain. Agenda left unscathed... Resolution to the core."
Their eye contact did not differ. At that very moment, the young boy questions his future actions... In hopes that this will lead to his goal. His vision slowly turns blurry and eventually fades to black as his words echo...
"Drift away, Yuri... Drift away in dream..."
"Cross the sill..." Sink in a twinkling..."
"Cast aside the old sleep..."
"To sleep again..."
"anew."