SNOWBOUND -- An Original Interactive Story, Pt. 9
Welcome to SNOWBOUND, a new interactive fiction story on Steemit.
Did you miss the first installment? Click here to find out what the hell is going on.
We return to our intrepid protagonist coming upon a cabin as night falls.
>hope the occupants aren't cannibals, cautiously approach
That's a weird thought, but you have had a weird day. You shrug off the unease and suggest to your companion that you may be able to find some help from whoever lives there. He seems oddly concerned, but hesitantly agrees.
You make your way carefully down the side of the hill and approach the cabin, keeping a sharp eye and ear out for anything suspicious. You knock on the heavy wooden door a few times, but there's no response. You peer through one of the frost-covered windows, your breath fogging up parts of the glass. The room inside is small, but cozy. Against the left wall is a chimney, a hearty fire roaring inside, and a large grandfather clock, idly ticking away the minutes. On the far wall appears to be a bookshelf; beside it, a teakettle sits atop a small stove. The right wall is occupied by a small table, against which are leaning several chairs.
You turn back to your companion and tell him there doesn't appear to be anyone home. He still seems on-edge, but when pressed, he can't explain why. His arm is bleeding more vigorously now, no doubt due to all the recent activity, and he's beginning to look rather pale, so you decide that it's better to ask forgiveness than permission and turn the knob on the door.
Much to your surprise, it swings open with no resistance.
The two of you step inside as the door swings closed behind you. You look around the room for anything that might be of use, and spot a small box sitting atop the bookshelf. Though more likely a tinder or snuff box, there's at least a chance that it could be a medicine chest.
You open the box and find a wooden smoking pipe and a pouch of tobacco. You apologize to your companion for getting his hopes up, but he takes the pouch and opens it, giving it a thoughtful sniff. He grabs a pinch of tobacco from the pouch and begins chewing it as he carefully rolls up his sleeve, then takes the mixture and rubs it into his wound, wincing a bit.
"Tobacco has natural antiseptic and anesthetic qualities," he says, grabbing another pinch of tobacco and chewing it for a moment. "It isn't a permanent solution, but it should be enough to dull the pain and hopefully prevent infection for now. I don't suppose you smoke, do you?"
You suggest that you may have before, but if so, it was at least a few lifetimes ago. Your companion gives you a curious stare, then shrugs off your odd remark.
"Tobacco ash also acts as a mild astringent and coagulant, which might help stop the bleeding. Could you pack the pipe for me?"
You nod and set about stuffing pinches of tobacco into the pipe, then pick up the book of matches from the pipe box and strike one, taking a few careful puffs. The sensation is oddly familiar, though you can't say why. After a few more puffs, you poke your finger into the bowl and tamp down the tobacco. The smoke is sweet with a hint of vanilla as it begins to fill the room. You feel the adrenaline in your veins start to slacken as the nicotine calms you. You offer the pipe to your companion, who gratefully accepts it, and the two of you sit at the small table, enjoying your brief respite.
As your companion sets about rubbing some ash into his wound (and taking a few thankful puffs of the pipe), you retrieve your Collection of Notes, turning to the last page.
My hand is trembling so much I can hardly write. What a day this has been! I do not even know where I should begin this tale. Let me take a moment to compose myself.
Okay. To begin with, I have a feeling that I have written notes like this in the past. What I mean is, I don't remember who I am or where I am from, but that is because of my ability to jump between universes. The Avatar of Body explained it all to me, and it made so much sense. He told me about the three Avatars: the Avatar of Body, the Avatar of Mind, and the Avatar of Spirit. Each one possesses a special and unique skill. But wait, I am getting ahead of myself. Let me go back a bit more.
Some days ago I found myself an amnesiac wandering in the snow. I felt a great sense of purpose, but I could not remember what this purpose was. I was freezing and exhausted, sure I was going to die. That is when he appeared to me. I thought he was an angel, a servant of God come to minister to me in my final moments, but he was just a man. He called himself Thomas. He took me to his house and tended to me there. While I was recovering, he told me about the Akashik Records. They are a repository of all the information in the universe -- and not just this universe, but every universe. That is when he told me about the Avatars. The Avatar of Mind, he said, has the ability to travel between universes, using the records as a jumping point. Whenever a soul passes from its body, it moves through the records, eventually traveling through something known as the Multiversal Nexus, contained within the records. For most people, the Nexus is too unstable, and it will reject them, sending them on to the afterlife. An Avatar of Mind, however, possesses the ability to direct themselves from one universe to another using the Nexus. It appears as though this is what I have done to arrive here.
That is when he explained to me the abilities of the other Avatars. He himself, so he told me, was an Avatar of Body. What this meant was that he was able to maintain a physical presence in the records. Under ordinary circumstances, the soul is not able to anchor itself within the records, but is swept into the Nexus and ejected from them. This is not so with an Avatar of Body; upon entering the records, an Avatar of Body has his physical form returned to him. This allows for two things: first, the amnesia that is experienced from losing one's body when traveling to the records is prevented; second, the individual is able to stay within the records indefinitely so as to make study of them. He had been in the records when I passed through them and was ejected to Earth, so he followed me. When I heard of this, there was no doubt that this is what I had been seeking. This power was how I would reach communion with God. I knew I must have it.
I did not wait for him to explain about the Avatar of Spirit, for I had already reasoned its power. It seems that I am an Avatar of Spirit originally. As such, I have the ability to commune with others. This allows me to absorb their essences and gain for myself their knowledge and abilities. Thomas must have been quite surprised to find that I was not simply an Avatar of Mind. I must confess some guilt at deceiving him, but I must not let anything impede my quest. If there is a God beyond this world, surely He will forgive me for doing what I must to seek Him.
Now that I am in possession of all three Avatar powers, I can finally make study of the records -- those in this universe and in every universe. If there is a way to reach God, it will be there, somewhere. No matter how long it takes, I will find it.
I am going there now. May God grant me the patience and the resolve I need to see my quest through to the end.
~April the 13th, 1728
Your companion asks you what it is that you're reading. You tell him, quite earnestly, that you wish you knew. He shrugs as he takes a thoughtful pull on the pipe, then his eyes widen in shock. He leaps up from the table and spins around, then runs over to the wall where you are fairly sure there used to be a door.
"Shit! I knew there was something wrong!" he exclaims as he pounds his fists against the wall. "There were no tracks in the snow leading away from the cabin! If there was only one entrance, whoever was here before us should have left tracks! What the hell is going on here?"
You look around the room frantically, suddenly alarmed. The door has vanished, but the window remains. You run up to it and peer out, but are met with crushing blackness. This goes far beyond the simple darkness of night; the light of the fire seems to stop entirely at the window pane. Either it is unable to illuminate the ground outside the window, or there is nothing outside the window to illuminate.
You back away from the glass, a sense of dread filling your soul, when you suddenly hear a click behind you. You turn around and see another door -- which you are quite sure wasn't there before -- begin to swing open. You and your companion steel yourselves for you know not what. At this point, nothing would surprise you.
Through the door walks, quite casually, an oddly familiar face. You search your memory and soon have a name to put to it.
"Ah, good, you're both here," Ian says, rather nonchalantly. "Can I offer you some tea?"
You're a little surprised after all.
Familiar in a good way? Not sure. I may already be stoned as fuck so the risk of tea containing hallucinogens...doesnt matter...continue the madness... "Yes I will have some tea so long as it isnt English Breakfast"