A new Kagom Jack story

MY NAME IS...

Sweet, enchanting darkness. There is no sight and there is not sound. There is no feeling, just nothing. It embraces me like a mother with her child to her bosom. I don't wish to stir and wake, but simply enjoy this nothingness. It's calming and serene, like being brought back into the womb—a place where you have no worries and cannot be harmed. But the comfort doesn't last.

At first there's a sound. It sounds like a gentle rainfall over a small lake, the wonderful sound of water dropping into water while the leaves of the trees rustle in the wind. Then comes the feel of morning dew caressing and kissing my face and hands, beckoning me to open up to the final sense, the sense of sight. Begrudgingly do I give in to this continuous encouragement and open my eyes, looking over an odd wooded area with trees that are not green, but a rather odd hue of beige, perhaps brown. The trunks and bodies of the trees are also a different color than what's “normal”. They're a dark gray color with straying lines of an ashy blue and green striping around at different areas.

I try to rise, but fall to the ground with a sharp pain in my joints. I'm not sure if I've been stabbed or had my limbs broken, but whatever it is prevents me from rising to my feet for the time being. I attempt to sit and prop myself up against a tree that is behind me that once wasn't. I quickly take a look at my ankles, knees, and other such joints. Nothing out of the ordinary, so why the pain?

I attempt to rise once more, but much more slowly. No pain, luckily, and I find myself able to rise without worries of falling over again. That much done, I feel a bit brave and extend my foot outwards to take a step. No pain, no falling. Good start to all this. I look around me again and take my other foot and step forward once again.

“I think I'm going to be alright, doc...” I mutter to no one in particular.

The grass below is not like normal grass. It's not prickly, but very soft, mattress-like. It's also an abnormal color, an amber color with swirls of cream here and there in a marble pattern. I find it to be rather aesthetically pleasing. It smooshes softly under each step I take and feels like it's trying to comfort the soles of my feet.

A few more steps and I find myself with a new problem outside of the loving embrace of nothingness and the pain in my joints upon first trying to move—the problem of memory. I could not remember who I was or why I was where I was at. I remembered basic things such as the “normal” appearance of natural flora and fauna, that I had gotten lost prior to waking up where I am, and that I was trying to find something. But I couldn't remember my name or why I was wandering to where I was heading. In fact I felt a dull, throbbing pain in the middle of my head when I tried to remember anything at all.

I felt that, given the situation, all I could do was just walk on and try to figure things out along the way. That much would be easy or so I thought. There was the matter of a small lake blocking off my ability to go any which way and there was no clear path to take. I take a few steps and then decide to sit beside the edge of the lake, letting my feet dip in. The water in the small lake is cool and feels the way water should feel. That much is “normal” about the body of water. It's a different color, as is everything else it seems. The water is dark violet in color, but it is hardly polluted and devoid of any sort of marine life. It's pristine as well, the bottom visible from where I'm looking.

I take my time to enjoy the water surrounding my feet while surveying for a path I can take. I notice that there's a couple of paths on the other side of the lake, one leading into what looks like a much more wooded area with another leading off into an area being bathed in red sunlight. The only problem facing me is that I'd have to swim along the lake and, well, I at least remember enough to recall I don't know how to really swim. But it would seem I have no choice but to attempt to swim.

Standing up, I look over the lake and try to take in just how long it is. Only a few hundred feet, not too long and arduous, at least for someone who knows how to swim. I look around one last time to see if maybe I can go around the lake, but that turns futile and fast.

“Alright, just gotta take a deep breath and...” I pause, watching in piqued curiosity as the lake starts to shrivel up before me, looking as if it's imploding. The water starts to drain down to the floor, making it barren and exposed, the gap of the lake closing up fast. But most peculiar of all is that the edges have grown teeth—human shaped teeth to be exact. They clench up and grind loudly before the ground itself finally covers up, a silent wail emanating from the ground.

I look on dumbfounded, trying to make sense of what I've just seen happen. Something in the very back of my mind tells me not to be worried or hesitate and take advantage of the new path that's been made for me as it won't stay that way for too terribly long. Taking the advice of the little voice in my mind, I dash straight ahead, making for the path on the right with gusto.

The scenery around me changes colors and shapes as I run for the sunlit path, some of the trees taking the form of people who've been bound with chains, all of them emitting a horrible cry for someone to come set them free from their chains. The voice in the back of my mind tells me to ignore them, as they'll only bog me down and prevent me from getting to the path of escape. The sight of these people bound in chains within trees is unsettling nonetheless, but then something else occurs to me: I know the faces of the people in the trees.

I halt long enough to peer at one of the faces, it looking rather familiar. I almost want to approach it and inspect it, but something keeps telling me to continue moving. I decide against moving on and step towards the person, inspecting the person bound. He cries for help to be released, promising to guide me to where I need to go, but his words feel empty and hollow. He seems rather young, around his early or mid twenties. He has very messy, curly auburn hair that dangles in front of his eyes, his face caked in dust and sweat. We lock eyes and stare at each other, his body writhing as if that'll free him from his bonds. His eyes are a hazel color, calming but sorrow-filled. I reach out and touch his face curiously to which he leans his head into my hand, tears starting to streak and stain his cheeks.

“Please let me go...if you free me, I can guide you! But you must be quick or Baba Yaga shall open her jaws again and you'll be forced to swim or be eaten. I know the right path!”

I doubt the truthfulness of his words, but I still feel compelled to help. I recoil my hand and look him over, knowing there is nothing that I can do to free him from his chains. Yet I still reach for them, my action halted by a loud, rumbling sound.

“It's her! It's Baba Yaga. She has jaws that can extend all the way to the gates of Hell and she will eat your body and imprison your soul in one of these trees! If you free me, I can keep you safe from being eaten. You just have to let me go.” he implores me.

That familiar feeling in the back of my head comes back, telling me to hurry and go. I shake my head and step backwards, offering only the sincerest of apologies before taking off for the sunlit path again, agonized screams coming from him in the distance as I leave him, all more vulgar and bitter than the last. All I can think to drown out the sound is one simple thing: I don't want to die.

I nearly collapse as I feel the sunlight hit me on the path, looking back behind me to see the lake re-emerge, its teeth coming out to be exposed before expanding in opposing directions, the water of the lake returning. I take a deep breath and wipe the sweat from my forehead, though I don't recall as to why I was sweating or even that I had been sweating at all. All I could keep thinking about was how I narrowly survived being consumed by a demonized lake of some sort and that I was nearly tricked into letting out some rather odd spirit I didn't know anything about. The rest was a blur.

After regaining my composure, I turned to look on in the sunlit path. The path was open and rather worn from use. It also had signs pointing in various directions with names and phrases written on them. The first sign was a couple of feet ahead and was written in white so that it was more legible in the red sunlight. It read “In the real world, I was a nobody, but now I'm Hashem!” and pointed towards a small, wooden door.

I stared at the door for the longest time. It was an aged yellow color and very thick with a knob that required a key to operate. It also had a sign on it that read “Art is the key to the future.” and pointed to a painting of a woman with a bonnet, but no eyes. In the painting she had her hands propped up on on her knee, one hand covering the other in a lady-like fashion. There was a small ribbon around her neck with something attached—a key to be exact! It felt a bit...cliché, really, but I knew it was how it would have to work. I ease the key out of the ribbon and slip it from the painting.

Looking at the key, I notice that it's shaped like sword with a rose adorned hilt. It didn't look like that in the painting. I look at the painting and notice it's changed completely, the girl being replaced with a small Neapolitan boy whose throat's been cut, rose thorns sprinkled across his clothed chest with the words “War knows no peace.” spelled out in his blood. I nearly lost my nerved upon seeing the sight, but I stomached the unease and looked it over to remind myself it wasn't real. I turned to the door and slid the key in and opened it, bustling through the door and locking it up.

There's a noise off in the distance, the sound of someone yelling. I turn to my right to where the sound is coming and see a young man about my age running towards me. I look about myself to find a makeshift weapon, thinking the young man was coming to take my life. I began to ease my search as the young man came closer towards me, a rather positive disposition adorning his visage. As he approached, I began to feel that I knew him from somewhere.

I reached out to grab his hand as he drew nearer, my memories suddenly flooding my mind over and over, torrents filling the capacity of my mind. Soon I remembered who I was and who he was, a smile coming over me as our hands touched to embrace in a brotherly manner. I remembered everything, my name. My name is...

Slim Shady.

Percuiliar as ever! Not bad!