Wouldn't you much rather live out the rest of your days in peace? (~1.9k words)
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Why live in fear of the worlds around you?
Risk the sharp teeth of the creatures of the night?
Why stand on the precipice of the strange and unknown?
Wouldn't you much rather live out the rest of your days in peace?
Yonder's End is open to all!
Overview:
Yonder's End was established by a group of visionaries looking to offer a choice in this world. Ever since its inception, it has been a safe haven for anyone in need, for those who think better than to brave the dark. We have grown much over the years to accommodate dozens looking for shelter from the danger outside.
Built on a beautiful floating island overlooking a breath-taking view, colors dance across an endless void, lighting up the sky. Because of this 24/7 natural lighting, there's no need for electricity, with all of our water coming from a spring-fed lake. I hope you like fungus, because Yonder's End's sustainable crop of mushrooms will keep you fed for the rest of your life. Don't worry about always eating the same thing — our talented chefs are sure to keep things interesting.
And don't worry, we don't bite! At Yonder's End, the fangs are just for show, and the extra eyes and arms just let us do more things at once. Every worker has centuries of experience, so you can be sure that you're in capable hands.
Directions:
We'll admit, we aren't in the most conventionally accessible location in the Backrooms, but just send a letter to the enclosed address (we've included a carrier pigeon with this brochure to make it easier for you), and we'll send a representative to pick you up.
It is 9AM. I had coffee and bread for breakfast.
A brochure was on the doorstep of Base Omega today. Hardly the strangest thing around these parts, but a mystery brochure nonetheless. I've heard of the place, through whispers and rambles. You hear a lot of rumours around here, about places beyond the horizon and things that never sleep. But they're just rumours. This one isn't, though. I don't know what to think of it, how many of the words I believe. It doesn't seem like the worst thing in the world.
Management wanted us to investigate, for research. I can't say I cared much, but it wouldn't hurt to get away from all the noise. Mike sent the "carrier pigeon" off, see what'd happen. It wasn't anything you could actually call a pigeon, but it worked the same.
Now we just wait. Like we always do.
It is 9AM. I had coffee and bread for breakfast.
Preparation for this Yonder's End thing has been going. For when or if this follows through. I've been told to pack things, look into stuff, prepare contingencies. I don't know. I don't think it's that serious.
I can barely get to my own stuff. Something's in the pipes, apparently. It bangs and creaks against the walls of metal and under the concrete. Enough to keep me up at times. Sometimes I think I see it leak onto the floor, but it's not there. I'm supposed to deal with it.
It is 9AM. They ran out of bread. I had eggs today, but I'm not sure how much I like the taste, or if they were rotten.
Someone knocked at our door. For a moment I thought it was the pipes. Mike thought it was some lost wanderer, but no. The representative is here.
I can't say she was exactly human, but that's fine, I've worked with Penumbras before. Seemed friendly enough though. She looked like a gargoyle, kind of, but human shaped. There were a pair of wings on her back, but I can't tell if she had ever used them. Not that any of that mattered.
Hello, you must be the representative from Yonder's End.
That is correct. My name is Karl.
I'm Jameson. You're here to take us there?
Yes. Apologies for the hassle.
It's not an issue. Thank you for coming.
Will it only be the two of you?
Yes, we're on a research venture.
I'm aware.
Hard to not know about our group, I suppose.
It's a bit more than that, but nevermind. Do you need time for preparation?
No, I think this is all.
[Pause]
What are you? If you don't mind me asking.
A caretaker.
In what sense?
What other senses are there?
I don't know, but that seems a bit cryptic.
Simple answers are often straightforward.
It is 9AM. I had coffee and bread for breakfast. Karl offered us some other food, but I wasn't too interested.
The trip wasn't quite as arduous as we were worried it would be. Mostly just a lot of walking. I'm supposed to be mapping out the route, haphazard shorthands in my notes from whenever I've bothered to pay attention, but it feels weird to have to do it when I'm already having to go there. Mike helps out a little, but he seems more interested in just getting there. More eager than I'd expect. Can't blame him for getting sick of base though.
Karl says we're close.
It is 9AM. I ran out of bread. Mushrooms aren't so bad.
We're here now, in some far away place across the Backrooms. It's hard to describe in words how beautiful Yonder's End is. Not worth it to describe in words. Far beyond what could be written on a brochure. There are people here, not too many but enough. Enough for a community.
I wouldn't mind spending more time here. I don't think anyone would. I wish I could lay on the grass and just look up into the sky longer than I'd be able to tell. But the faculty made it clear that anything longer than a few days is signing up for a lifetime reservation.
I don't know if I'm ready for that. If I even should. There are so many things I have to do. I'd feel icky if I stayed, I think. I don't know if I'd actually do them, though. I shouldn't stay.
It is 9AM. More mushrooms. It's starting to taste like coffee.
Mike's staying. I never thought he'd be willing to just leave it all behind like that. But the way he agreed to it despite the terms and conditions, you would think he'd been waiting for this all his life. Maybe he had been. I don't think I could've known. Mike was always a bit skittish and reserved, but he was nice, willing to help everyone, put down what he was doing for the sake of others. He seemed happy. Maybe he wasn't.
The conditions are simple. You stay there forever, you lose your youth, and you never have to worry about anything ever again. Nothing's hidden, everyone here is here because they want to be. Mike tells me it's worth it. That he's sorry. I want to join him. Something's nagging at me to go back. I don't know why. They'll be mad? Should I care? I can't stay.
It is 9AM.
I'm back at base. I said my goodbyes and Karl showed me the way back. It felt shorter than the way there, too short. I was hoping it was going to be longer. I hoped I wouldn't have to deal with everything again so soon. It feels weird being here. There's a creeping feeling all the time and the pipes are back to banging in my ears again. I'm tired, I wish I could use that as an excuse for a week. I need to fix the pipes. But I just got back. Not now.
I asked management for a break. I can't remember what they answered.
It is 9AM. I had coffee. They ran out of bread.
Sometimes I wish I could just wake up with breakfast in my lap and on my desk. As miserable as it sounds. I don't like going outside. Sometimes I just want to lay in bed. Even if the sounds writhe under the frame and ram against my mattress, I don't know for how much longer I want to get up.
The ground is even banging now, under my feet. Every step I take reverberating in my ears and my brain it hurts. I wish it would stop and go away. And I know I'm supposed to make it go away but I don't. I don't know. I say I will I have to and I never do and it never goes away.
It is 9AM. The coffee machine broke. I could fix it. I could get up and I could fix it.
I think about Mike sometimes. I think about the way his cheeks sagged on his face, how his eyes sunk into his skull. I think about the wrinkles on his forehead, the coarseness of his skin. For a moment that's scary. And then I think about how happy he is, to sit and sit and sit forever under the light of auroras in the sky. To not have to hear the groaning, grating, insufferable banging. To not have them breathe down his neck.
It's in the pipes in the walls in the floor. It rips under my chair and out my window. They tell me to fix it. They tell me to fix it and then to help this and do that. Everyone tells me about everything to deal with, everything. Every waking moment.
It is 9AM.
Earphones help. There is merit in crawling into a space. Maybe if I close my eyes. The concrete cracks and chips away and falls to the ground. Maybe if I pretend there are no pipes, pretend I'm somewhere else in the ocean. Pretend I'm floating in space. Pretend I'm in the clouds above so high I could touch the sun. Pretend I'm anywhere but here. But they will never stop reminding me, they're incessant outside my door. Instructions and advice and questions and things I don't want to hear, even if I know they're right. They will never stop. They will never stop until I come out.
It is 9AM.
And I will never never never never ever ever ever listen. I will not get up and wrap my fingers around the handle and the railings. It will not happen no matter how much my mind screams at me, no matter how loudly the pipes and ceilings cry.
It is 9AM.
And it will be like this. And I know it can not be like this. I know it can be different. But it will not be.
It is 9AM.
Because I am scared and I am weak and it is a lie.
It is 9AM.
Nothing ever happens.
It is 9AM.
I will rot.
It is 9AM.
It is 9AM.
It is 9AM.
It is 9AM.
It is 9AM.
You've made your decision?
Yes.
Very well then.
[Pause]
I'm not happy.
No shame in admitting that.
I think I'm meant to be. I wish I was.
You wouldn't be the only one.
I don't get it.
Not everyone does. We all do what we can.
I don't know if that's anything in my case.
Well, isn't that why you're here?
[Pause]
Why are you doing this?
Doing? I'm not doing anything. Neither of us are. We are what we are. And I am a caretaker.
Then what am I?
That's not for me to answer.
[Pause]
Do the wings work? I've never seen you use them.
If that's the case, is there a difference?
It is 9AM. I think it always will be.