Of course, we should have known we'd never get in. We weren't prepared. Though it proved to be a tangible place, the entrance was locked with a key the exact opposite shape to the one we needed. But the music, the music escaped the barrier and found its way out to us in the darkness outside the gate. Slow double bass. Klezmer. Clanking evil jazz. A subconscious symphony in reverse.
I was never good at physics, but they tell me there were hints everywhere. To every action there is always an equal and opposite reaction, so good energy generates bad energy elsewhere. And mass and energy are equivalent. Somewhere, created by you, completely against your will, are alternate versions of you. Two hidden worlds, two doppelgängers, one good and one evil. The land the evil doppelgängers populate is home of infinite power. Dark, yet brightly illuminated to these shadows. A hollow replica of the world you know, deprived of natural law, injected with unpredictability and mysterious motives. Here, these creatures devise plans for something they do not yet know what is.
Some nicknamed this dark place the Badlands, which I never liked because that would mean the positive counterpart would have to be called Goodlands. Some simply went with Heaven and Hell, which came with entirely different baggage. It really doesn't matter. At some point, the names and even the places become irrelevant. Once the opposite forces become equally strong, they draw each other to the middle. To the origin. To you.
Blue in the Face
What's He Building In There?
Shadows Free Monstrosities
Spy vs. Spy
Red Left Hand
Animals Pissed Off
David & Goliath
Fox Bat Strategy
Little White Riding Hood
The Red Room
Murder Of Birds
The Great Banishment changed everything. Deeper and deeper. Smaller and smaller. Evolution lends a hand and we forget what it was like. I have no memories of that time, but for generations they called this the Netherworld so I have to assume there was an Overworld. We were foreshadowed as anima telluris or monads, but nomads would have sufficed.
I've heard stories of animals being subordinate, but those times are long since gone. As the foxholes led to villages, as the roots took us from town to town, as living creatures conspired, as we grew smaller or our world ballooned, as we had no way back, we wandered downwards and covered our tracks. They call the old country "the true north", but what good is direction when the maps are cast aside?
Still, our journey here continues, the only way we know how. We plunder and poison and reap until what little root that grows, becomes a piece of dirt on this shipwrecked road from home.
Through The Root & Underground
If You Were There, Beware
We Have Internet
Out Comes The Fox
All I really set out to do was find some clues to how I ended up halfway across the world from where I was born. There was not much to go by other than the family album I found on the attic, and even that was basically just two covers with mostly missing pages in between.
It took years, several near-death experiences, thousands of miles and an infinite amount of luck, but I eventually recompiled the book. And got way more than I bargained for. Maybe one day I'll tell you the story.