Branching Paths

rating: +8

8 votes (+8, -0) 5★

rating: +8+x

I feel as if I have been removed.

Today is a fitting day to get something off of my chest. Hopefully you'll all still listen, considering the fact that I have yet to release my whereabouts or… say anything really for the longest time. I can assure you all that everything I have to say does not lack importance, but unfortunately that is one of the only things I can be sure of.

It is known that I was last seen in the sparse forest that the lot of you had known to be a place I frequent. The constant cool breeze complemented by the eternal sunset. Even if I alone am not the most revered, or even most well of individuals… the recipients of this message should still know the place, correct? Heh, who am I kidding? Of course. Do not mind me, my last attempt at humor is long in the past. Neither then, nor now can I grasp backward in such a way. Who would fight the tide that cannot be fought for the sole purpose of preserving something so insignificant?

Sometimes, like everyone else, I remember the small details. Taking in the same sights for so long, you take them for granted. Maybe in that moment I was glossing over everything, not appreciating the vastness and complexity of the beautiful place I had the right to explore. The moment you are destined to never see something again is the moment you are the least thankful to have ever laid eyes upon it in the first place.

This aforementioned lack of gratitude melted away when I saw a path. The path. Not something internal, heh, I wasn't indoctrinated into a cult or something of the likes. A physical path, a passway, if you will. It looked manmade, to an extent, if that's important to your intellectual division. When I followed into this, well, it seemed to me like a new feature of my travels. The foliage didn't get any denser, nor was the majestic landscape altered. Unfortunately, my foresight was.

Difficulty 5/5 All things carry difficulty. The more substantial something is, the more there is to carry.
Entity Count This field was left unmarked. Like the Limspace this place is connected to, wildlife comes and go, most of which is friendly. An attempt to count them all would be foolish.
Chaos Gradient This field was left unmarked. The unstoppable tide, seen by none. A tide is what I call it, but the "flow" of time has many meanings, interpreted by many entities. Isn't it beautiful to hear what everyone thinks of it?

The beauty we discuss may be endless, but even I get sick of vagueness sometimes. I may as well get to the point of this unorganized little message.


It is just like that beautiful landscape, the one I described. If you've been there, or seen information, you should know what it looks like. Unfortunately, in this place, a lot of it I cannot see for myself. When I look ahead… further down the paths, it's fog. Not literal this time, but figurative. When I go towards the fog, it clears. What I saw, but wasn't able to comprehend now but lies before me after a small bout of travel. To make this more understandable, let's take a moment to witness the effects from my point of view, if you can imagine it.

I am on the path.

There is something in front of me. I see it perfectly and clearly, it is a tree.

Even if it is right there, in that moment it wasn't. I stare at the tree, clueless. If in that moment I was asked what was in front of me, I couldn't answer.

The tree was right in front of me standing still in the chilly breeze, doing whatever trees do. In the future. The tree is ahead of me, but I am still seconds away from encountering it on the path. Momentarily, I am helpless and unknowing. It could be anything, as I could not draw a conclusion. It was as if I could not sense it unless I was directly at its spot next to the path. As I finally figure out what lies in front of me, I look back. The previous things I had seen, they still lie. But as I press forward, what was once right in front of me recedes, destined to be forgotten in due time.

The space is not an endless line. Paths diverge, markers marking potential splits in the ever-expanding trails. Once I choose a path to follow, the other diminishes. I no longer know of the splits in the paths, but I still know that I once had the ability to make a choice. At points I think I was racked with anger. Gut feelings telling me to choose one path over the other, I may have rejected. If there is no destination but inevitable ends to the trails, what's the point of attempting to choose the longest one? Sometimes I did, sometimes I did not. No matter where I went, the tide kept me from thinking of going back.

I feel removed, but I am yet to be removed. I lie at the end of a trail, staring over the abyss. I cannot understand much behind me, but I know a large abyss awaits me, waiting for me to enter. I stand still, composing this message. The void before me feels sorrow, reaching out its hand. When I answer the call, I may be gone forever. To those who once knew me for the individual I was, remember this place.

As does the void, I reach out. Find this message. Read my name. I don't want to be forgotten.


This field was left unmarked.


Basset-Frazier Index 5/5 If the received message were to be taken seriously as it suggests, then all who are assigned to uninhabited locations within the Lephletz Woodland should be on high alert. As many of you know, there are not any roads or paths of any kind in the Lephletz Woodland. If you see any, walk away, call for help, do not be drawn in. If this "tide" we have been notified about truly has as much of a psychological effect as seen in the message, we have reason to be on alert.

Personally, I know not of any who have gone missing in the Lephletz Woodland. When I was talking to those of my rank about the whole situation, I mentioned that there were no missing people that I could remember. When I had thought about what I had just said, I had a bit of a terrifying epiphany. Keep your eyes open, even if you think all of this is a bundle of lies or an elaborate prank. Be safe out there.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International license