Chapter 8 Road to Ashton Venue Part 2: Diedmons Roue

He looked around the entrance, an unkempt graveled road covered in sprouts of gray grass jutting from shattered gaps led to a large archway. A gray film covers most if not all the buildings including any vegetation that ended up inside the barrier of moonlight.

The town Gryce found himself in was much different from any, much different from Ashton Venue a distinctive film taken out from a black and white stock film. A black-and-white movie in the flesh was what Diedmons Roue reminded him of. An alluring feeling to step inside was harder to overcome than being stripped away of the substance you'd rely on to survive, a withdrawal that could only be cleansed by advancing. Before he knew it, he'd step inside the domain of Diedmons Roue, a dense mist striking his face like a gust of wind.

Upon entering he heard a whistle, a poor whistle with little consistency and chapped lips but a whistle nonetheless. It rang through that empty town, those circular houses with dilapidated roofs and torn-down walls, a constant wave of gray mist circulating. The eye was ever present, nailed to the doors that still stood up, posted on even the rubble, and nailed to the side of houses like small bulletin boards.

"Hello is anyone there?" He shouted, waiting for a response that he would not reciprocate. The whistle came from the pinnacle, a large tower that overshadowed the rather primitive buildings Diedmons Roue held as if a light tower had been taken from the shore and shoved inside the earth, refurbished into another purpose that was now devoid of no other purpose besides religious practice. The signs of prayer littered the walls, and the whistling stopped as he knocked on the door.

A knot in his stomach formed, coiling around, tightening, squeezing, like a snake. His vision narrowed and as he blinked several times, he felt a heat come from the sky, and a crowd of people's voices flooded his ears. As he whipped his head back towards the entrance, the full scope of the voices became clear. The once desolate town was filled with people and the color had returned.

"What's going on here?"

"What's going on where Visitor?" A voice came from behind him, a young man with parted hair and glasses greeted him.

"Oh nothing, I just could have sworn this place was…"

"Empty?" The look of surprise was clear on Gryce's face. "Don't worry we get that a lot, a little trick of the mind that's all, a bit of an illusion some might say."

"An illusion?" His eyes trained down, and he tilted his head, mumbling under his breath, "Well that's not right."

"What's not right stranger?"

"I could've sworn I had some sort of injury, on my foot, see how there's a chunk torn out." He pointed at his right foot, the man adjusted his glasses and squinted.

"Yup, does seem that way. Why don't you have a visit to the Doc."

"The Doc?"

"Yeah, you see that building over there." He pointed to the far left of the town, " Shaped like an L, can't miss it."

"Yeah, I think I see it, thanks… oh, I'm sorry I never caught your name."

"Caught in the moment it's fine, name's **** but people around here just call me Glass."

"Glass?."

He pointed to his glasses, "Only one in town that needs them, after a while it just stuck, and yours?"

"Oh, that's right, my name is Gryce Harlington."

"I'll remember that."

"Appreciate it, I'll do the same."

***

The doctor's office, Mr. Smith, certificates lined across the walls wrapping around each corner Gryce's eyes paned through all of them, each barely comprehensible. Being the first patient of the day Mr. Smith took him in at a moment's notice and sat him down handing him a clipboard.

"Just fill that out and we can be on our way."

"Yeah, sure." He signed his name on the bottom of the paper and handed it to him.

"Alright good, Well…" He brings the paper closer to his eyes and squints "Gryce…Harlington what seems to be the problem." He turned away for a second sliding the board across the counter.

"Well, I'm having a bit of trouble remembering some things. I… Got this injury on my foot." They both look down. "But there's nothing there."

"Yes, that is most peculiar and you're certain you were hurt?"

"I remember the pain."

"Oh? But there's nothing there, perhaps you mistakenly put on the wrong shoe, happens to the best of us, no reason to be embarrassed if that's the case."

"No… no that's not it."

"It must be! What else could it?"

"How am I supposed to know, you're the doctor here aren't you?"

"Now, now Mr. Harlington, I realize this must be a VERY trying time for you but you must not let it get to you."

"I'm fine, I'm fine, really I am. I'm just confused."

"Well we're all confused Mr. Harlington, life's confusing, but it's up to us to unravel the confusing parts and make it make sense. Can't expect it to happen on its own."

"That's a hard thing to do Doc."

"Of course it is, life is hard, but you're a strong man aren't you, but sometimes you need a guiding hand, and someone… someone just so happened to have similar symptoms as you Mr. Harlington. Perhaps you should pay her a visit. Follow me."

The man led Gryce to a separate part of the building, a few doors leading outside towards a small shack with small window panes and dim light leaking out of it.

"What are they doing in there?" Gryce asked.

"She wanted to be alone, but I think it would be better if someone other than me pestered her. Now go on, I'll be in my office if you need me."

"Yeah, thanks."

Just as he inched closer to the shed, a familiar tune returned. That broken whistle, as dry as ever came from inside. He blinked several times staring at the door, in a trance of sorts, continuing to focus on that tune, becoming clearer as it continued. Only until the ninth blink did he return, a dirty, run-down shed stood and the door wide open. The sight of a familiar girl, just as confused as him, stared back at him. A young girl with messy black hair and wide eyes. It was Marie.

The feeling in his legs drained when his eyes graced her—dropping down on his knees as if he were praying. Jolts of what felt like lava ran through his body and poured out of the open wounds, seeing her as she slowly ran up to him, with an unexpectedly worried expression.

Indistinct words echoed throughout his head, It went something like this,

"Darkness treads along the land, driven by maleficent gusts of piercing wind. Rivers begin drawing back, afraid of the rolling black clouds that replaced the once-white sky. In a flash of light, striking from the heavens onto the ground below lightning struck in pairs of three and four, and in its final smite, it birthed an unwelcome visitor. Being washed ashore upon Ichemound's domain, a man clinging to life had been given a new purpose."

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