《Manifesto》 A Warden Of The Woods He must be getting a lot of air through that pipe. He had a lot of wrinkles, and his light blue eyes were sitting on top of big bags. He had an old pair of glasses with brownish frames, which complemented the brown vest he always wore. He also wore a sapphire blue shirt under his vest, which went really well with his hair and eyes. He doesn¡¯t seem like the type to care¡­for anything else than mushrooms, that is. The smoke was rather mellow and had a pleasant plum scent. The office wasn¡¯t too spacious, but there was enough space to walk around without bumping into things. The part of the building they were sitting in had its exterior overgrown with vines, which were visible through the half-open window shades. A few sunrays seeped through and illuminated the dancing smoke. The shelves were decorated with various wooden statues, most of which had something to do with fungi. Shawn had taken a special liking to a weird one. On its label, it said ¡ª the fumungous ¡ª a fungal ogre with tiny eyes and a tiny mouth. Its body was smooth, and its proportions were round and chubby. Despite its creepiness, it came off as cute. Shawn had a fascination for speculative biology and couldn¡¯t help but ponder ¡°what if¡± questions. During their work in the lab, they often talked about what organisms would exist on Earth-like planets. Shawn and Ruby, his best friend, were standing next to the door with their backpacks. They came to get a signature for a course. When he first started working with Mr. Spraggins, he immediately felt admiration for him. Mr. Spraggins¡¯s lectures were goofy and strange, but somehow he felt that mycologists should be that way. They had worked together during the course, but their relationship was still too fresh for Shawn to know what Mr. Spraggins thought about him. He felt unsure and insecure about whether Mr. Spraggins felt he had potential or was working hard enough. However, Mr. Spragging¡¯s playful demeanor eased him. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Mr. Spragginsone more time.¡± Then he quickly added, ¡°Although I might be already.¡± and laughed with his raspy, thin voice, which then turned into a cough. Where do ideas come from?¡­ What did he mean by that?It was just a simple question, but somehow very fundamental. A scientist, whose bread and butter it is to validify sources and information, should have at least once thought about the origin of ideas. A part of him that wanted to become a solid scientist felt it got exposed. Deep in thought, he overheard Ruby¡¯s question. ¡°Sorry¡­ the question he asked was bothering me.¡± He replied. Everyone is looking for something¡­ they travel the world to look for it¡­ but what is it? Is it meaning? Is it a person? Is it experience?Most never went the distance to discover their true selves if it wasn¡¯t for a near-death experience, the unexpected loss of a loved one, or other transformative and deeply painful events. Yet here he was, walking down the street, clueless that such a thing was about to happen to him as well. He was like one of those animals in one of those experiments where they put a mirror in the middle of a forest. Some of the animals attacked their reflection immediately (just like some people would). However, some animals looked intently and pondered. They knew something was off but couldn¡¯t figure it out, as if trapped by some invisible boundary. Shawn was one of those animals seeing his reflection in everyone else around him. He couldn¡¯t get to the bottom of it. Nonetheless, he never gave in. He kept thinking and knocking on those boundaries relentlessly and obsessively to the point of madness. At times he felt he was going mad ¡ª and maybe he was ¡ªbut he couldn¡¯t help it. Breaking through that barrier was what was going to change his life for good. Chapter 1: Scene 2: Of course hes late Welcome to Manifesto, my fantasy/sci-fi/dystopian novel. If you¡¯re new here, you can go to the beginning here. Quick recap: We learned about the weird mycology professor Pat Spraggins and the protagonist Shawn Woodward who is a young mycologist at Manchester University. He and his best friend Ruby are on their way to catch a train. ? previous scene | next scene ? Click here -> for some good vibes. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Fuck, I¡¯m late. He scrambled all the necessary papers for his assignment and shoved them into his binder pocket. Underpants, socks, outdoor clothes, indoor clothes, and toothbrush. He ran from side to side assembling his collection. He picked up some shorts, smelled them, and threw them back. Usually, he wasn¡¯t the messy type, but he struggled with doing his laundry a lot. His room was rather small but had all the bare necessities. Nothing too fancy. Once he had everything, he put on his leather sneakers and took the steps two to three at once. Descending the last staircase he slipped and barely caught himself by the railing. The hot sweat that ran down his forehead turned cold, his wavy, middle-long, brown hair bathed in it. He ran for his life around the block down Cambridge Street where the last few passengers were getting into the train. Ruby stood at the entrance of one of the wagons and held a lookout for Shawn. ¡°I told him not to be late, bloody hell.¡± Shawn ran as fast as he could, his backpack was swinging on his back and he heaved like a racehorse. Ruby caught sight of him as she heard the conductor¡¯s whistle. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. I can make it, I can make it! Shawn thought as he made his way through the pedestrians. ¡°Watch out, idiot,¡± one of them yelled. Fortunately, the conductor stood in front of the same wagon that Ruby stood in. ¡°Would you please hold on for a few seconds more?¡± she pleaded ¡°Do you see that guy sprinting over there, he is coming in.¡± The conductor took a look, smirked, and without saying anything waited another 15 seconds for Shawn to make it. ¡°Aren¡¯t you a lucky one, if it wasn¡¯t for your friend over here you¡¯d be on the other side of the train now¡±. ¡°Thank you so much,¡± Shawn muffled, catching his breath. Ruby stood there with her arms folded and a triumphant told-you-so expression. Shawn looked at her, while he tried to recover leaning against the railing. It¡¯d be a hell of lot easier to be friends with her if she wasn¡¯t so goddamn beautiful, he thought then added but somehow also not. ¡°How does all that anger fit into that small body of yours?¡± Shawn threw a jab. Ruby was probably a head smaller than Shawn, albeit she wasn¡¯t that tiny either. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. ¡°You¡¯re only so tall so that you can fit all that extra dumb inside of you I¡¯d say¡± she countered. They both laughed and relished it, as always. Then he looked at her with a sincere smile and said ¡°Thank you.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s go find our seats, I got you a ticket too, so you owe me.¡± He thanked her again. Shawn preferred sitting at the window but he got the short end of the stick this time. They sat in a double seat, not the four-seat type. Shawn acted as if he was over the whole Ruby thing. He even believed it. Ruby was his first genuine love, and maybe because they were both so young, it was also the purest. He told her he loved her on the evening of Ruby¡¯s twelfth birthday. Things got awkward from there on and they went their own way for a few years, but up until that point they were quite inseparable. New Galloway wasn¡¯t a big place and neither of them did well with the kids from the neighborhood. Both of them found solace in each other¡¯s company. They spent warm summer evenings on a swing at one of the playgrounds and talked and laughed until late in the night. If it wasn¡¯t on the swing, they¡¯d talk through Skype until one of them passed out. I was the only one she ever let this close, he reflected. So much so, that at one point she let him read her diary. What he read there startled him, for she wrote she loved him. In big letters too. Young as he was, he almost caught a fever from the excitement he felt after reading it. Because of the love and attention he so craved, he couldn¡¯t help but take his chance. Now, with some distance, he felt, that by telling her about his feelings he took the only healthy relationship away from her. He felt a deep pain inside his heart, it wasn¡¯t his, it was Ruby¡¯s. Once they accidentally bumped into each other again, both fully grown, they immediately clicked as if no time had passed and hung out again. Whether by design or chance, they were going to the same university. They hadn¡¯t talked about the love confession, but both acted as if it never happened. Now they sat next to each other and the space was rather limited. Occasionally, Ruby¡¯s thigh touched Shawn¡¯s. Utterly aware of it, and definitely not disliking it either, Shawn felt torn. Should I pull away? Is she aware of it? Is she doing it on purpose? What if it ruins our friendship again? He kept it there. What he liked most about her were her long and straight red hair, her heart-shaped lips, and sage green eyes. They resembled each other a bit. Both were somewhat pale and freckled. Shawn¡¯s vibrant brown hair wasn¡¯t a far fetch from red, and his light-green eyes looked similar, however, Ruby¡¯s were more greyish than green. They could have been siblings. He always thought, that if one saw her in the forest, she¡¯d look like a fairy, likewise if one saw her at the coast, she¡¯d look like a siren. Her close connection with nature made him wonder sometimes. She might as well be one. ¡°So freckleface,¡± she started the conversation ¡°What¡¯s bothering you?¡± At first, Shawn thought of the thigh thing and got a little heart attack, but played it cool. ¡°What do you mean?¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯ve been staring into empty space far too much, even for you.¡± He knew what she meant and felt a bit silly. ¡°Well, don¡¯t feel like seeing the old man, nor the house.¡± She didn¡¯t say anything. ¡°Also, granny has not been doing well lately,¡± after a short pause he continued ¡°I¡¯d like to see her before she¡¯s gone, you know.¡± ¡°How much time does she have?¡± ¡°Not much,¡± he stared into the seat in front of him ¡°Two months ago they said half a year.¡± She leaned her head on his shoulder for a moment, then regretted it because Shawn was soaked in sweat. Thank you for reading, means a ton to me! See you in 2 days, Hans. ? previous scene | next scene ? Chapter 1: Scene 3: New Galloway New Galloway was a rural town it didn¡¯t even have a train connection. However, it had its charms. On sunny days like this one, the fields shone in bright green, the mild breeze made the leaves jingle and dazzle and the well-taken care of houses and lawns gave it character. Shawn and Ruby got out of the bus in somewhat better spirits, both happy to see the scenery they so loved. Anywhere they looked they¡¯d have a memory to recall, such as scouting Ms. Fraley¡¯s ¡ª the local newsagent¡¯s ¡ª backyard or taking care of lost kittens. They both stopped for a moment and took it in. ¡°I miss this in the city,¡± said Shawn ¡°You don¡¯t get this anywhere but in Gallie.¡± ¡°So we¡¯re gonna meet?¡± Ruby asked. ¡°Yeah, message me.¡± After a moment of contemplation Ruby gave Shawn a caring look and said, ¡°Don¡¯t drown,¡± then she added, ¡°If you do¡­ hit me up.¡± She gave him a one-armed hug and went in the opposite direction. He also made his way home and absorbed his surroundings. His heavy heart had made him appreciate the good things more, oddly enough. He took a deep breath. He could think only so much before his head started to buzz, but he felt rejuvenated by the fresh air. So nice. Almost tickles my lungs a bit. Then he got a coughing fit again. He coughed until his throat ached. Fuck this, he thought. It didn¡¯t take long until his mind started to pace again. His anxiety came back when he thought of what awaited him at home. He shook his head as if trying to shake off the thoughts when Mr. S. popped up in his mind Ever gave ideas a second thought? ¡°Ever gave ideas a second thought?¡± he imitated him. What did he mean? I swear the old man is like Rafiki from the lion king. Wouldn¡¯t be surprised if he had a tail waggling from under his lab coat. Then he laughed out loud. ¡°I¡¯d really want a tail too.¡± He tried to think about it systematically, Okay, there are two options, either ideas are man-made, meaning I am the source of the idea¡­ or they aren¡¯t. The second one seemed too irrational to even consider, however after all those magic mushrooms he ate he was rather open to irrational. He now pictured society, and how great thinkers and scientists became obsessed with an idea and readily gave away decades of their life chasing it. He thought about artists, Now artists are really.. ¡°odd¡± he finished aloud. They are constantly swimming in a pool of ideas. Pulling them by their feet, trying to manifest them in the material world. Scientists are bound by laws, logic, by protocols. Artists are limitless, although limitations can also be used as tools to bring forth beauty. Well¡­ they are limited by their capabilities. ¡°Where am I going with this?¡± he said out loud again. It was not unusual for him to talk to himself. It helped him think. He started to think of society and people again trying to see the bigger picture. ¡°Ideologies¡± he nodded to himself. Why do people get so obsessed with ideas? Then he thought of religion. Maybe they need something to believe in. Maybe life is too much to bear without belief. Then he thought of the monasteries and how corrupted they became over time. How people were manipulated and exploited in the name of god. Isn¡¯t that what our governments are doing? Aren¡¯t people with firm beliefs constantly exploited? As if the beliefs, the ideology, were a handle¡­ a grip? He felt he was getting somewhere. He was so deep in thought he almost ran into a lamppost. As he recovered from the close call he noticed a bright green shieldbug on his sleeve. ¡°Well, look at you, Mr. smelly bug.¡± Pralomena prasina he thought, which was the Latin for it. He took it on his finger and extended it toward the grass, which grew abundantly on each side of the road. The bug didn¡¯t budge ¡°Sorry to bug you¡­.,¡± he laughed then continued ¡°May you consider taking a leave¡­ or a leaf¡± He laughed again. ¡°God, I¡¯m horrible.¡± The bug flew away and in disappointment, in himself, he said ¡°Right¡­ they can fly¡­ nice try Woodward¡±, which was his surname. Almost home he tried to finish his analysis. Where was I¡­ Right. Ideologies as a handle to manipulate. He thought for a moment and imagined masses of people being drawn by an idea. A set of words or images. Oddly powerful, he thought. If those weren¡¯t man-made, that¡¯d be ¡°creepy as hell¡± he finished aloud again. He now stood in front of his house. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. It was a sunny day but now he felt like there was a cloud above him. The house was not visible from the road. It was at the end of a crooked path covered in lush green. Bushes, tall grass, and trees. One of the bushes had vibrant yellow flowers on it. The yard was separated from the road with a wooden fence. It was more symbolic than useful, for it reached maybe up to the waist. Shawn¡¯s steps felt heavier the closer he got. It was a typical orange brick house with brown clay tiles and a chimney on the roof. He could see the curtains were closed. He didn¡¯t like when people blocked the sun from coming in, somehow places like that always made him uncomfortable. There was a saying he thought of now, where the sun can¡¯t reach, the doctor goes for a visit. Chapter 2: Scene 1: The Trolls Cave He was about to knock on the door when his mother opened. ¡°Hey, M-¡° ¡°Try to be silent, he just fell asleep,¡± she interrupted him. Welcome my beloved son, I missed you so much would have been too unrealistic anyways, he thought. She wore a blood-red sweater and sweatpants. Her hair was chocolate brown and long and ¡ª unlike Shawn¡¯s ¡ª her eyes were bright blue. However, it was apparent who Shawn inherited his freckles from. She was in her mid-forties, rather slim, and wore an expression of sleeplessness. Two silver, heart-shaped earrings and a big, silver, braided necklace with a cross decorated her. He took a step in and felt like he entered the cave of a troll. It was indeed dark inside. The air was stale and smelled like old furniture. To the left was the kitchen and to the right was the living room. Shawn¡¯s room was upstairs. He took his shoes off and as he walked in he could see that Willy ¡ª their parakeet ¡ª was covered with a blanket again. Shawns¡¯ father, Elmer, used to cover the cage to make the bird shut up. Idiot. He could see his father¡¯s legs and an empty beer bottle laying on the floor from behind the wall as he slept in the single-seater. He took another step when the wooden boards gave a loud creak. Both Shawn and his Mom already knew by heart which tiles not to step on. In the same instance his mother ¡ª Christine ¡ª twitched, stopped in her tracks, and gave Shawn a what-the-fuck-did-I-tell-you look mixed with terror. She covered her face with her palm, trying to collect some strength. When the old man grunted their blood pressure spiked. You might think that his Father hadn¡¯t woken because he hadn¡¯t moved, but both of them knew that wasn¡¯t the case. Shawn was still in high school when he learned that his father was acting poorly too. While Shawn and his mom prepared their lunches to leave for the day, Elmer ¡ª after a gallon of booze ¡ªwas still asleep in his single-seater. They walked on tip-toes from the moment they got out of bed, if they didn¡¯t, they were reminded by a moan or grunt, which felt like whip slashes eating into him. One morning Shawn¡¯s mother ¡ª Christina ¡ª couldn¡¯t take it anymore and switched from stealth to casual mode. He gave his mother an anxious, almost terrified look as to why she was so careless. ¡°He is not asleep,¡± she said, ¡°he is just acting.¡± When Shawn came home, something about his mother¡¯s smile was off. Despite the thick layer of makeup, he noticed that she had a black eye. As he stood there a memory came up of how he was at a sleepover at a friend¡¯s house and cringed every time he heard a light switch turned off or a door shut carelessly. Why? He felt a ball of rage swell in his chest, and before he knew it, he took a brisk step and entered the living room. ¡°Could you stop with the fucking acting?¡± he said. ¡°And what about the fucking windows?¡± he opened the blinds and shoved the curtains aside. Elmer slurred with a deep voice, ¡°Watch your mouth.¡± The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Shawn turned around and looked at him. He still laid in the single-seater and watched him with one eye half open and his head leaning back. Elmer was about to be sixty and had a full beard and wavy, fatty, black hair. He wore a green button shirt and worn-out jeans. However, what ticked off Shawn the most was the look in Elmer¡¯s eyes. It wasn¡¯t malicious nor resentful. It was full of sorrow. ¡°Yeah? Or what? Are you gonna hit me?¡± Shawn countered immediately. Do it, said one of the voices in Shawn¡¯s head. ¡°Do you know how fucking tired I am? Every time I come home, it¡¯s like this.¡± Tears rolled down his face, the look in his eyes painful with no sign of fear. He clenched his jaw and pressed his trembling lips together, barely able to hold back the rage. Elmer said nothing. ¡°Shawn,¡± his mother said, with a snap-out-of-it voice. He turned and saw his eight-year-old brother, Will, standing on the staircase. ¡°Hey,¡± he said with a calmer voice and wiped his tears. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Will asked. ¡°Not much, just¡­¡± he looked around him as if looking for something, ¡°Mom said she¡¯ll make the chocolate fudge for us tonight,¡± he said. ¡°Really?¡± Will brightened up. Shawn¡¯s and his mother¡¯s eyes met. Her eyes ¡ªnow merely slits¡ª glared a hole into him. After an extended second or two, she answered, ¡°Really.¡± ¡°Yaaaaay¡­. Chocolate fud¡ª¡° ¡°But only because Shawn promised to vacuum and do the dishes for the day.¡± She now had a smirk on her face. Both boys went, ¡°Ow,¡± when she pinched them in their cheeks. ¡°That was unnecessary,¡± Shawn said. ¡°Why me?¡± Will protested. ¡°Shawn, I¡¯ll need some eggs and butter. You¡¯ll have to fetch them from the store if you want the fudge.¡± ¡°Yeah¡­¡± Shawn said, then had a coughing fit again, shouldn¡¯t have shouted so much, he thought. Christine and Will both looked at him with concern in their eyes, ¡°I¡¯ll go,¡± somewhat eager to take in nature again, ¡°Wanna come, buddy?¡± He extended his fist for Will to bump. ¡°Hell yeah,¡± Will replied and bumped his fist trying to make a sound effect, missed the first time, then on the second time Shawn was hit with saliva flying from Will¡¯s mouth. ¡°Shawn?¡± Elmer said, standing in the light-filled living room. Shawn¡¯s smile faded, but instead of anger, he now felt remorse in his chest. He came a bit closer to take the conversation away from Will and Christine. Their eyes met. His father, somewhat taller than him, had his head tilted forward a bit while keeping eye contact with Shawn. Elmer leaned in so that Shawn could feel the warmth of his breath on his face. Elmer narrowed his eyes and rose his finger warningly toward Shawn and spoke slowly, ¡°Don¡¯t dare to do this again¡­ I promise you¡­ I will make your life a living hell. I will cut your money, and you can sleep outside as far as I care,¡± Shawn nodded, disgusted by the booze breath. ¡°Shut the hell up, are we clear?¡± there was something about the way Elmer spoke. A side of him came out. A side that endured things beyond what Shawn could imagine, a side, which had no regard for arbitrary rules or bonds. A side that was immune to a priest¡¯s prayer and ought to be shackled and hidden in the dark. Shawn felt he was in danger. The rage he felt before, a small fire, was extinguished by Elmer¡¯s eternal, dark inferno. His limbs were weak and his breathing shallow. He avoided eye contact and wanted to run away. Looking down he nodded. ¡°Are we clear?¡± Elmer asked expecting an audible answer. ¡°Yes,¡± he replied. Feeling that the conversation was over and it¡¯d be better to keep it discreet, he disengaged. On his way to the kitchen, he uncovered Willy ¡ªthe parakeet¡ª and saw that the cage was in a sorry state. ¡°Leave the bird and get outta here,¡± Elmer said. Shawn covered the cage again. Poor guy, he thought, then went to put his shoes on. ¡°Come on, Will, let¡¯s hit the road. Got stuff to do today.¡± Will ran down the stairs, and they left. Chapter 2: Scene 2: At Grandmas Somewhat further up the hill that Shawn¡¯s house rested on, their Grandma lived in an old English cottage with a thatched roof. The walls were made of white, chiseled stone which then smoothly transitioned into an orange chimney. The cottage had small squared windows and all along the exterior grew a plant with drooping purple flower spires. The garden was fenced with a lush and thick green bush. The only gap was a small dark wooden gate, which was partially open. It was a new day. Shawn and Will were on their way to visit Granny, as they approached, expecting to find her in the garden, a fluffy, well-fed orange cat walked pompously toward them. ¡°Mr. Snickers,¡± Will called out with an excited voice. Mr. Snickers meowed in a displeased note, just as if trying to say, ¡°It¡¯s your majesty.¡± In response to hearing Will¡¯s voice Grandma called out ¡°Is that you Willie?¡± Her voice was somewhat raspy and feeble, one could hear she wasn¡¯t in best health. A small, hunched figure appeared from behind the bushes as she hobbled her way to the gate. The cat, displeased as Will ceased his attentive petting, meowed, but this time in a lower ¡ªinsulting¡ª tone as if trying to say, peasant. ¡°Cut the attitude, Snickers,¡± said Granny from behind the gate. Her white hair ¡ªor the remains of it¡ª was propped up in a bun, thinned, so much so, it made Shawn uncomfortable to look at it. She had glasses hanging around her neck, which she then put on to see the boys better, ¡°Now aren¡¯t you two handsome young men,¡± she said with love in her voice. She wore a black shirt over which she had a green gardener¡¯s apron. They both came in for a hug and received a kiss on the cheek. ¡°Come in my boys, I¡¯ll fetch you some cookies, but first, do you want to see what I¡¯ve been fiddling with?¡± For this question had not required an answer, they followed her on a paved stone path. The garden wasn¡¯t too big and opposite from the gate it was walled by the onset of a hill under which the cottage dwelled. However, what they saw in the back of this small garden stunned them. Various flowers with blossoms the size of their heads perched on stems that looked more like garden hoses. Under each plant grew a bunch of mushrooms, and with varying plant types, the mushrooms varied as well, although impressive and beautiful, that wasn¡¯t what caught their attention. In the middle of it, all stood a statue of a man, however, it wasn¡¯t just a mere man, for it had mushrooms ¡ªalso wooden¡ª growing all over its body. It was arranged as if it was supposed to be a shrine. Shawn looked at it and immediately saw the irrefutable resemblance with Pat¡¯s pipe. Holy shit¡­, Shawn thought in disbelief. ¡°What is¡­ that?¡± Will asked pointing at the statue. ¡°Fungal w¡ª¡± ¡°warriors,¡± Shawn finished with Granny at the same time. ¡°Well, look at ya, how did you know?¡± ¡°What are fungal warriors?¡± Will inquired impatiently. ¡°My mycology professor has the same motive carved onto his pipe,¡± he replied then asked, ¡°But¡­ why?¡± ¡°Come inside¡­ love number one,¡± she tapped Will on the shoulder, ¡°and love number two,¡± she tapped Shawn¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Why am I love two?¡± asked Shawn, clearly confused, for he was the older one. ¡°I knew you¡¯d ask, and I will not tell you,¡± she stuck her tongue out and chuckled. The inside of the cottage was not new to them, however, they still couldn¡¯t help but stop in their tracks and lock their gaze when passing various statues, objects, paintings, plants, and, if anything, mushrooms. Like any other mushroom freak, she also had a collection of pictures of her holding either rare or gigantic fungal specimens. Will stood there looking at one of the shelves decorated with paintings and statues with psychedelic motives. Masks embellished with geometrical patterns, feathers, and eyes in a variety of colors and abstract paintings of pillars and spirals. In the middle was a picture of Granny with her friends, whose attire gave away the decade this must have been in. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°I like this one,¡± Will said and grabbed a tiny wooden statue of a gilled mushroom, slender in the stem with a concave-shaped cap. ¡°I bet you do,¡± Granny said as she put it back. Clearly, my brother, Shawn thought. ¡°Hey, I wanted to ¡ª¡° ¡°Hush, hush, now,¡± she interrupted him and hurried him to sit on the sofa. Shawn sniggered. After a moment Shawn called in the direction of the kitchen, ¡°Do you need help?¡± where Granny brewed some herbal tea. ¡°No you just stay wh¡ª¡°, she coughed once, then a second time, followed by the sound of shattering porcelain. ¡°Gran!¡± they simultaneously yelled, when Shawn had a coughing fit as well. Will ran after her, and somewhat later Shawn caught up. They found her leaning against the sink covering her mouth. ¡°Whew, got a bit dizzy there,¡± she faked a smile. ¡°Just shake it off, ah-ah,¡± Will sang and danced nonchalantly. ¡°Wrong timing Will,¡± Shawn corrected him. ¡°Don¡¯t be like that¡­¡± she said, ¡°once you can¡¯t laugh, you¡¯ve been beaten¡­ so let¡¯s keep dancing and laughing, shall we?¡± She looked at Will and smiled. ¡°Could you help me pick up the pieces?¡± She asked. While they did, she washed off the blood from her hand. They brewed some new tea together and sat down in the living room. After she lit an inscent candle they bathed in woods and roses, at least according to their noses. The crackling fire lit the otherwise dim room and soothed them. ¡°Can be quite cold in stone houses as such,¡± she said. ¡°How have you been feeling?¡± Shawn asked. ¡°There are so many nicer things to talk about, don¡¯t you think?¡± she looked at him and Shawn needed to hear no more. Will sat next to Granny as he petted Mr. Snickers who purred and stretched out on her lap. ¡°I saw you paired certain plants with certain mushrooms¡­ I suppose you figured out, which works best together?¡± Shawn changed topics, ¡°Is that why the plants are so big?¡± ¡°I did, a smart one aren¡¯t you?¡± she replied. At least when it comes to mushrooms, he thought. ¡°It takes long even for scientists to figure out compatibilities¡­ too many variables.¡± ¡°Observation and patience,¡± she said then continued, ¡°You can make some solid predictions if you learn to listen.¡± ¡°Listen?¡± Shawn asked. They woke Will¡¯s interest, for he now listened intently. ¡°Listen to what the mushrooms are telling you,¡± she answered and coughed. Not the hocus-pocus again, he internally sighed. ¡°I can¡¯t learn from you if you keep using metaphors like that,¡± Shawn said. ¡°Not all language is spoken, nor can it be heard by ears alone,¡± she replied unfazed by Shawn¡¯s academic demeanor, ¡°I know you scientists like things rigid and predictable, feasible and conventional, but that ¡°reason¡± of yours is nothing else than nearsightedness and prejudice.¡± Right. That prejudice is the reason you have a fridge in the kitchen, Shawn thought. ¡°So, could you teach me how to¡­listen?¡± he asked, somewhat mockingly. ¡°If you spend more time around mushrooms, you¡¯ll understand,¡± she replied. He was evidently annoyed by the answer, which was something along the lines of ¡°You¡¯ll understand when you¡¯re older,¡± however there was something more important on his mind. ¡°Alright, alright,¡± he said, ¡°but could you tell me about the mushroom warrior thing¡­ please?¡± She looked at him, obviously sizing him up whether he was ready. After a moment she nodded to herself, but as if she forgot she looked at little Will next to her. After another moment of contemplation she said, ¡°Okay, I¡¯ll tell you.¡± Chapter 2: Scene 3: The Mushroom Warriors ¡°The mushroom warrior is a symbol. It originally stems from a cave in the middle of an African desert.¡± The desert? Mushrooms? Shawn thought. ¡°The statue you saw was merely a poor representation, however the original one,¡± she got up, walked up to her bookshelf, and crammed out a thick black book. On its cover were various mushrooms and some Japanese signs. She blew the dust off of it, then flipped the first two pages and there was the drawing. It was a man with tiny mushrooms growing out of every part of his body, he held two big mushrooms in both of his hands and instead of a human face, he had the one of a bee. ¡°Weird face,¡± Shawn remarked. She continued, ¡°The painting was made somewhere at the end of the ice age, ten thousand years ago. However, the lineage of the tribe that made it lives on. We, ¡®mushroom warriors¡¯ use this symbol in honor of the sacredness, profoundness, and importance of the knowledge that was passed on.¡± Shawn¡¯s interest spiked, he had many questions but waited for her to continue. ¡°It is based on a belief, that fungi and humans co-evolved in¡­ cooperation, even a symbiosis. That a positive relationship between man and fungi is of utmost importance to prevent a collapse of our¡­ civilization¡­ just like plants and fungi created a partnership.¡± Mycorrhiza, Shawn thought. ¡°Furthermore, and I know this sounds crazy, but bear with me¡­ we believe, that the evolution of humans was¡­ fungi mediated.¡± Will, completely out of his league, spurred occasional questions such as ¡°What¡¯s symbiosis?¡± or ¡°Evolvution?¡±, which he clearly misspelled, but received no reply. Fungi mediated? He continued his thought aloud, ¡°What do you mean?¡±. ¡°Think about it. What would happen if an ape ate psilocybes, also known as magic mushrooms? Over, and over again? Over millions of years? I mean you¡¯ve had your fair share of experiences, as you¡¯ve told me, so you should know the power that lies beneath that gilled cap.¡± ¡°No way,¡± Shawn said, ¡°So you believe magic mushrooms were the reason apes evolved into humans?¡± She nodded. He had a serious look on him, staring at the coffee table between them, with the book open in front of him. She must¡¯ve had one too many of those mushrooms¡­ but it is true, that the sudden¡­ very sudden doubling in brain size is until today only explained by a random mutation. We also know that psilocybes induce neuron growth¡­ and mediate communication between all parts of the brain. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. He began to nod slightly, still with a serious look in his eyes. ¡°What are magic mushrooms?¡± Will asked again. Granny and Shawn both laughed but gave no answer. ¡°Hey, stop ignoring me, I want to know too,¡± Will insisted. ¡°You¡¯ll know soon enough buddy, trust me,¡± Shawn replied. Will clearly dissatisfied crossed his arms on his chest, pursed his lips, and leaned back into the sofa. Granny continued, ¡°Imagine. Millions and millions,¡± with obvious emphasis, ¡°and millions of years of evolution? Millions of years of psilocybe consumption? You¡¯re an ape, you live in a community, you consume psilocybes¡­ all of a sudden you start talking, you look at your hand and you question reality¡­¡± ¡°That¡¯s mad, absolutely mad¡­¡± he said, then reflected on his trips, then added ¡°¡­ but absolutely brilliant.¡± ¡°Has there been some sort of evidence for it?¡± ¡°There is no way to prove such a hypothesis. Maybe at some point in the future with advancements in tech, but¡­¡± she paused for a moment then added, ¡°There are more crazy things to believe in.¡± ¡°We are a group of elderly mycologists, or as we like to call ourselves, mycophiles, who lived their lives studying, growing, and listening to mushrooms. We collect spores and store them. We combine mushrooms with different plants and use them to heal the soil and surrounding forests and ultimately, ourselves. The garden you saw is a consequence of our efforts, however, there is so much to learn still,¡± after a moment she leaned forward and with a hand covering the side of her mouth she said, ¡° I have a feeling some of our members might have gone off the deep end, if you know what I mean,¡± and coughed again. I¡¯m not sure you¡¯re one to talk granny, he thought. Simultaneously Pat blitzed before his eyes and said out loud ¡°No shit.¡± They both laughed, then Will uttered ¡°Great, now they¡¯re whispering too,¡± followed by a pet on top of his little head by Granny. ¡°So, how do you become a member?¡± Shawn asked. ¡°You¡¯re dragged into it by someone who''s already in it,¡± she replied immediately as if expecting Shawn¡¯s question. ¡°Here,¡± she got up, fiddled around in one of the boxes ¡ª in the hallway Will was fascinated by¡ª and pulled out a piece of wood. ¡°Every member has this. You can have one if you want,¡± She said and handed him a plate or chip, with the same symbol carved into it, small enough to fit into his palm. ¡°You sure?¡± ¡°Me too,¡± said Will protestantly. ¡°You¡¯re my grandson, and as far as I can tell, you got some of your granny in you,¡± she giggled, then coughed. ¡°You get yours from your brother when you¡¯re older¡­ but you have to like mushrooms a lot.¡± ¡°I do already, so can I have one?¡± ¡°Do you now?¡± she questioned him with a smirk. ¡°Well, yeah, but¡­ they can be a bit creepy too,¡± he replied. ¡°And that¡¯s what we call mycophobia,¡± Granny and Shawn laughed. ¡°A myco-what?¡± Will repeated. ¡°A strong fear of mushrooms,¡± Shawn said. ¡°I am not afraid,¡± said Will, ¡°I just think they¡¯re creepy sometimes.¡± Grandma comforted him by pulling him closer. ¡°Shawn?¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± ¡°I know you¡¯re trained this way at the university and it is expected of you to think in realistic terms¡­,¡± Shawn sighed. ¡°¡­but try to quench your disbelief,¡± she said, then added, ¡°Try to look beyond, and you might find that the world is full of magic,¡± she said and smiled. Deep in his heart, Shawn felt discomfort when he heard her words, but he dared to fantasize for a moment. He looked at the symbol and a desire for what she said to be real grew in him. However, once he became aware of it he shook his head, fairytales. While they finished their tea they caught up on the mundane everyday things, however, it didn¡¯t take long for Will to grow restless, thus they decided to be on their way, for Shawn remembered he had other things to do as well. They thanked and hugged her, then left. Chapter 2: Scene 4: A Botanists Dream Before going home Ruby decided to stop by her mother¡¯s shop. It was a small and old house made out of dark wood with a big sign above the door ¡°Puff¡¯s Herbal Remedies.¡± One could see that the building desired some work done, however, the yard was filled with beautiful plants and flowers of all kinds. Bees buzzed and danced on diverse petals and juicy leaves. The amount of pollen in the air would make even a non-allergic sneeze. She glanced and saw that under the roof a tiny bird made its nest in a crease. Ruby entered the door and bells rang at the same time as the birds sang. Once she passed the old oak entrance beam she immediately felt like she was in a botanist¡¯s dream. Plants of various shapes, colors, and origins were hanging, standing, or laying covering almost the entire interior. On one side it said ¡°herbal creams & oils¡± and on the other ¡°saplings and seeds.¡± The room¡¯s smell was a mixture of aetheric oils and wood. In the corner, rearranging some freshly planted orchids, stood a lady in a dark green dress, when she heard the bells she turned around, and with surprise in her eyes she said, ¡°Hey honey, so nice of you to come home for the weekend. Come here.¡± They gave each other a big hug. Ruby looked at the orchids and with excitement, she said, ¡°A venus slipper orchid, Paphiopedilum delenatii. My favorite.¡± ¡°Also called the Fairrie¡¯s Paphiopedilum, smells a bit like roses doesn¡¯t it?¡± her mother asked. Ruby replied, ¡°It does, and the pristine white flowers with the bright pink are just so¡­ yummy! Would almost want to eat it.¡± ¡°I mean¡­ we have it in our name too, but I wouldn¡¯t eat it if I was you,¡± the mother remarked. ¡°Yes yes, but a person can dream!¡± ¡°True that,¡± her mom replied. ¡°I missed you Mom.¡± ¡°Missed you too honey,¡± they hugged again. ¡°How was school?¡± Mom asked. ¡°Yeah it¡¯s going,¡± then Ruby added, ¡°They were talking about a botanical slash mycological excursion to the Amazon rainforest.¡± ¡°The dream of yours¡­ ours. Must be quite expensive for sure.¡± ¡°Just the flight, the rest is quite low-cost, for there are no luxurious facilities in the Amazon you know.¡± ¡°You should go,¡± the mother replied. ¡°Even if I had the money for it, they won¡¯t take all of us. Just a few chosen ones.¡± ¡°Apply for it, we will get the financial things sorted one way or another.¡± ¡°How?¡± Ruby asked. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. ¡°There are always possibilities. We can get a loan¡ª¡° ¡°Another one? Common mom, I know you want to do me good, but we will never get out of this situation if we keep taking loans we can¡¯t pay. I mean, look at the store,¡± Ruby pointed at the walls and roof clearly in need of attention. ¡°There are much more important things in life than money¡­ Ruby, dreams come but they go fast. You don¡¯t want to be hanging around without a clue what you want or who you are,¡± she then continued ¡°You have it all sorted out, you have a direction, a dream, and the opportunity. We would have to be foolish to let you rot away without ever letting you bloom in the first place.¡± ¡°Spoken like a true botanist,¡± Ruby said with both her hands propped on her hips. The doorbell rang when an old lady came in. ¡°Oh! Ms. Greenwood, lovely to see you. Come in, come in. How can I help you?¡± she welcomed the lady then turned to Ruby ¡°Rubs, I¡¯ll be home in the afternoon, can you get some food going?¡± ¡°Gotcha.¡± ¡°Hey Ruby, look at you. How beautiful you¡¯ve grown. Just a mere toddler a while ago. What are you up to these days?¡± ¡°She¡¯s studying botany at Manchester University,¡± her mom replied proudly. ¡°Hello Ms. Greenwood, thank you,¡± she smiled shyly, ¡°Yes, Manchester it is.¡± ¡°Just like your mom, you¡¯ll make a fantastic botanist I am sure,¡± Ms. Greenwood replied. ¡°That¡¯s so sweet of you, you¡¯re aging gracefully as well,¡± Ruby said. ¡°Thank you, dear, haven¡¯t heard that in a long time.¡± Ruby skipped a few steps over to their house and threw herself into her chores. When she unpacked her things she stumbled upon an old picture of their family. Once her eyes fell upon her father her expression grew sour. He lived not far away from New Gallie, with a new wife and a stepdaughter, however, he never visited nor did he support them. In fact, it seemed to Ruby he resented her and her mom and did his best to sabotage them. He left when Ruby was merely four years old. Despite his physical absence, the psychological footprint hung over them ever since. Furthermore, the fact that he ever so happily supported his new stepdaughter made this whole shitshow even less tolerable and made Ruby boil from inside, despite her not wanting to admit it. ¡°Fuck that jerk,¡± She said aloud then resumed vacuuming while lip-synching Eminem playing in her headphones. The smell of pancakes filled the house when her mother came home. After they devoured the pancakes Ruby¡¯s mom began the dumping, ¡°My heart rate is too high,¡­ I will die early,¡­ The bills are stacking up¡­¡± After some time Ruby went, ¡°Mom, can you stop worrying, maybe have tea and meditate for a bit. You don¡¯t know what¡¯s gonna happen. The only reason I see for you to die early is this insane hypochondria of yours.¡± Ruby clearly annoyed by having to listen to this for the hundredth time. ¡°When you¡¯re my age you will understand,¡± her mother replied. ¡°There she goes again,¡± Ruby replied with her palm covering her pained face. ¡°You¡¯ll see when you¡¯re fifty, then you will remember my words and say - she told me so,¡± her mom stated as Ruby was already on her way to her room. She laid on her big bed ¡ªa gift given to her by her mom on a guilty day¡ª undid the button on her jeans to release her filled gut and grabbed her phone. She skimmed through her messages, deleted a few from pervs who constantly messaged her from multiple accounts, then noticed that no other messages were left, except for one. He was a 35-year-old who appeared to be intellectual and reliable, however, anyone else in his age group would dismantle him as insecure and ingenuine. His way of putting words together and his calm and caring demeanor made Ruby feel understood. After she gave him what he wanted most, which she couldn¡¯t have described as a pleasant or lasting experience, he immediately ceased communication with her. Now here he was again and Ruby felt she knew why, but felt tempted nonetheless. With a big sigh of disgust and exhaustion, she threw her phone aside and stared at the ceiling for a while. She daydreamed about the Amazon and the vast diversity of plants and animals. Her innards vibrated harmoniously in response to the sceneries on display in her mind. She got up and immersed herself in her assignments. Chapter 3: Scene 1: Manchester Ruby sent Shawn a message that she would not be seeing him this weekend. I wasn¡¯t really expecting it to go any other way, Shawn thought. When they were younger, it wasn¡¯t unusual for Ruby to come up with excuses, heck, even simply not respond when Shawn was waiting for her. He sat on his bed, of which the mattress was covered in an old front cover, and the sheets had a Pokemon pattern. He looked at it and smirked because he remembered how he used to love the pattern, but now it made him uneasy because it meant he was home. Times change, he contemplated. It was Sunday morning, time to hit the road. When he got out of his room, Will stood there waiting for him. ¡°You¡¯re leaving?¡± Will asked. Shawn nodded slowly, looking at him from above. Will came in for a hug, tears running down his face. After he hugged him, he squatted to look into his eyes. ¡°I will come back next weekend,¡± Shawn assured him. ¡°Promise?¡± ¡°Promise.¡± ¡°If you hear them arguing again, put on your headphones and play some games,¡± Shawn said, ¡°you can also message me anytime.¡± Will nodded, and they hugged again. Shawn gave him a kiss and went downstairs. Elmer was at home, but no words were spoken. To his surprise, he made it on time. He traveled alone, although he was sure Ruby would be either on the same train or on the next one. ¡°Whatever,¡± he said aloud and tried to think of something else. Will popped up in his mind, which didn¡¯t help either. He put on his headphones and daydreamed while staring out the window. He watched the change from the countryside to city life as he imagined what it would be like in the Amazon. I wonder what kind of fungi grow there, he thought. I wonder what kind of weird shit Pat would say¡­ then the mood switched, for he realized there was no way to pay for it. Fuck, I really need to find a way how to make money in the future. The songs switched. His playlist was composed of all kinds of stuff, from Japanese pop & rock to Beethoven¡¯s ninth symphony. Now a Japanese rock song played, which made his young, testosterone-filled blood boil. It was a mix of traditional with modern. A combination of conservative and progressive. With one foot rooted in the past and one foot in the future. That¡¯s the only reasonable approach, Shawn thought. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. He pondered about the future of society. Specifically, the dawn of new tech. Brain chips, sophisticated prosthetic limbs, and eyes were not a big deal, and you could see a few android-looking people walking the streets. With the brain chips, innervation directly into the neurons was possible. He felt uneasy but also oddly excited at the thought of it. Improved memory, improved sight¡­ telekinesis? Telepathy? He had his fair share of experience in tinkering with the human brain. He tried to treat his anger outbursts and inability to focus, at first with weed, then ecstasy. It didn¡¯t take long for him to realize that he was merely treating the symptoms, not the cause. Having felt the impact of screwing around with brain chemistry and the human proclivity for addiction and avoiding anguish, he figured that direct access to the brain circuits would break the spirit of many. People shouldn¡¯t be living in cubicles, he thought, staring at the fields. We¡¯ve already disconnected from our origins. Apes, trees, seas, soils, and forests flashed before his eyes. Mushroom warriors¡­ he thought of the hypothesis Granny told him about. If that were to be true¡­ and we¡¯ve illegalized mushrooms¡­ he pondered, that just deepens the gorge we¡¯ve dug. He shook his head. He felt there had to be a way to combine the old with the new. Something nudged his knee. When he looked down, he saw two black eyes staring at him. ¡°Aw,¡± he said aloud, then petted the coal-black dog with its curly fur. For some reason, he recognized the dog but couldn¡¯t for the world remember where he had seen it. He looked around to identify whose it was. ¡°Peppers, c¡¯mere,¡± said a manly voice followed by a lavish laugh. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, he likes to say hello,¡± the stranger said. Shawn looked at him and recognized the guy from somewhere. He wore sneakers, blue jeans, and a plain black shirt. He was tall, had short and curly dark hair, was decently built, and had stubble. When their eyes met, Shawn felt nothing but simple kindness. Something in the guy¡¯s eyes and laugh lit the room up. ¡°Wait, haven¡¯t I seen you somewhere?¡± the guy asked. The way he strokes up the conversation seemed so free of anxiety and effortless. It eased Shawn¡¯s usual timidity. ¡°Yeah, I thought I recognized the dog¡­.¡± Shawn replied, ¡°Could it be that you study mycology at Manchester?¡± ¡°Right,¡± the guy seemed to remember, ¡°you¡¯re the guy who first sat in the first row but now sits in the back,¡± he then laughed again. ¡°Aaaah, right, that¡¯s where I saw the dog. You always bring him to the lectures,¡± after a short pause, ¡°Wait, you noticed me switching places?¡± Shawn laughed, somewhat embarrassed. ¡°Yeah, I don¡¯t know why. You¡¯re somewhat different.¡± ¡°I hope not in a bad way,¡± Shawn replied. ¡°No, no, just the way you carry yourself¡­ and the hair, it¡¯s unusually brown.¡± ¡°Oh¡­yeah,¡± Shawn replied, and they both laughed. It¡¯s just the hair, he thought. ¡°Truman, nice to meet you,¡± he got up a bit and extended his hand, ¡°Shawn, likewise.¡± They chatted for the rest of the trip about their studies. Shawn wasn¡¯t his usual restrained self. Something about Truman brought the childlike innocence and joy in him as if they met on a playground in a sandbox. They exchanged numbers and decided to go out this week. When Shawn walked to his dorm, he wore a big smile on his face. Prologue The smoke of a pipe and candle blended as they rose and hugged the cottage''s wooden beams. The wind sighed as it found its way through the small nooks and creaks. The foundations quivered under each onslaught. Every now and then, the wind brought a spray of rain down on the roof and window panes. The drizzling rain, the rustle of book pages, and the crackles of a fire smoldering lazily in an old stone chimney reverberated in the room. A home dweller''s symphony. The pipe''s smoker, an old man, sat in the library at a desk with an old parchment spread before him. Out of a worn-out traveler''s leather backpack with numerous scars and hanging threads, he pulled a similarly worn-out leather journal. A multitude of fast-printed photographs fell out of it before him, of which two he picked up and stared at most strenuously. He unsheathed his aged fountain pen and dunked it into a vitreous bottle filled with black ink. The nib kissed the surface of the parchment, and the man wrote: The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. "At which hour the walls crumble to dusteth in the visage of the ages, and the power of the symbols fades. At which hour divine chants loseth their divinity, and evil sharpens its canines to feast upon the flesh of the many. Only he, who hearkens to the call of the vicious mother and dareth to seek it, shall findeth a gorge deep in the heart of her tangled garden. Only he, who standeth in the future and in the past equally, who knoweth the depth of his sea, and the beings which inhabit it. Only he, who was born of earth and loveth earth but stareth at the stars, to where his smoke riseth. Only he, who carries fire but does not burneth, shalt not perish in the face of her. Only him she loves, and only he shalt enter the cave and return to the earth, to her, from which he was born. Only he shalt be reborn and bestoweth with her blessing. Only he shalt rebuild the fallen walls and discern good from evil. Only him shalt she not devour." Chapter 3: Scene 2: Lab Work pucciniomycotina, which were a type of plant pathogen, with the goal of creating a beneficial mutant that would reduce the extent of agricultural damage they caused. However, his project was a shot in the dark because he didn¡¯t even know what type of mutation he was looking for. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack without knowing whether the needle existed. ¡°Maybe I should have thought this through,¡± he said aloud. He poked around with a metal inoculation needle, using the tool to move around the plant matter and check for potential signs of growth. He had a few of them on the table. Four were rusted. Not great, he thought. Frustrated, he got up and decided to ask Pat what to do next. Fuck, not more of them, he thought and sighed. He hated the tedious, repetitive work cultivation brought with it. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. Please continue, he thought and almost laughed out loud as he noticed his craving for praise. finally, things are starting to work out for me. He had barely finished his thought when his phone rang. He took out his phone and saw ¡°Mom¡± on the screen. He sighed and pressed the green button. Yeah, right. Chapter 3: Scene 3: The Office The Verve as a journalist at the far end of the city. Shawn jumped on a bus, and half an hour later, he arrived at the office. The building looked beaten down, a bit like some of its occupants. A lot of the interior was wooden, and it wasn¡¯t very spacious. He walked up to the counter where a grumpy old man was sitting at the reception. Fuck. I will not be like him. He reminded himself to clean up his bench next time he was in the lab to prove he could be better than him. He knew he shouldn¡¯t poke around, but after the last confrontation with his Dad, he couldn¡¯t care less about what one should or shouldn¡¯t do. He wanted to get an edge over him, to reveal some dirty secret. He enjoyed thinking of what he might find, momentarily suppressing the fact that, first and foremost, he was worried. He took a deep breath, and with a sigh, he said, ¡°Let¡¯s see.¡± He took a seat at the table and started skimming through the papers. He saw a few articles, arrows, and notes in red. Uninterested, he pushed them aside, then tried to open the drawer. ¡°Locked,¡± he thought. His heartbeat sped up, and his curiosity was piqued. He had to know what was inside. It¡¯s worth a try, he thought, then took a paper clip from the pile on the table and unwinded it. ¡°Lockpicking 101,¡± he said aloud, feeling a slight rush of excitement. He hadn¡¯t felt that way since he was a kid breaking into his mother¡¯s cookie jar. He took out his phone, put on the video he had practiced with, and murmured to himself, ¡°One is the tongue. The other is the ripple.¡± He now had two paperclips, one of which had two wavy bents, which he made with scissors, the other straight. He put in both clips at the same time. The straight one he kept still while jiggling the wavy one, feeling the cylinders of the lock. He knew he didn¡¯t have much time and started to lose faith. He gave it a few more jerks when he felt a click. ¡°Now don¡¯t move, don¡¯t move,¡± he thought, his heart banging in his chest. He held both of the pins together and twisted them. The sound of the barrels moving into the lock gave him immense pleasure. He hardly believed it worked. He remembered his classmates laughing at him playing with locks. Joke¡¯s on you, he thought. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The footsteps were getting closer and closer. He had a few seconds left at best. He turned skittishly from side to side, looking for a place to hide, then realized the idiocy of what he was doing. The old man was at the door, gave it a knock, and said, ¡°Young man, I told you to make it quick.¡± As the door opened, Shawn stuffed the folder up his shirt and turned to face the window, pretending to stare out at the trees deep in thought. The old man cleared his throat. Shawn turned around and said, ¡°Oh, sorry, I got lost in thought,¡± took a few brisk steps, stuffed the key back into the old man¡¯s hand, and walked away. Chapter 3: Scene 4: Timur Petrov Why would he lock it, and why wouldn¡¯t he mention he had a new case? Usually, Elmer told Christine about all his cases, and they thought them through together. But Christine hadn¡¯t mentioned anything about Elmer working on something new. Shawn took a big lungful of air and held it in his cheeks, looking like a stuffed chipmunk. ¡°Here we go,¡± he let the air out sharply, then opened the binder. On top was a transparent folder stuffed with pictures and notes. One picture caught his attention in particular. On it was a man, Russian-looking, Shawn¡¯s thought. The man was bald, had thick eyebrows, a round chin, and a set of blue, tired, baggy eyes. He had a bit too much meat on his face, with narrow eyes squished above his heavy jowls. Looks like he could be dangerous, Shawn thought. He was shaved, Shawn could almost smell the heavy cologne he was probably wearing. His shoulders, chest, and neck were so wide he looked more animal than human. He was dressed in a suit that looked like it would take a year¡¯s salary to buy. The background of the picture was a flat white wall, and the man was staring directly into the lens, looking almost annoyed, like he was being forced to have his photo taken. What a glare. I¡¯d rather fight a bear than him, Shawn thought. but who was he? Shawn flipped through the pictures. His breath caught in his chest. Pictures of crime scenes, of what used to be men, faces trampled, bodies stabbed, and blood splattered. On the back of each picture were dates and locations. Shawn¡¯s hands started to sweat, his mouth sticky. He didn¡¯t know why, but he documented everything with his phone. Before he moved on to the documents, he tried to calm down. ¡°What the fuck,¡± he said aloud. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. Isn¡¯t that the company with the brain chips? ¡°What¡¯s going on here,¡± Shawn said aloud, worried but also somewhat excited. He noted the feeling and wondered why he got excited at the slightest sign of trouble. He read some passages and skipped over the rest. Only halting at what seemed to be important. After a few minutes, the puzzle pieces came together. This Timur dude must be up to no good. Shawn noticed his own thought and then commented on it, you were born a genius, my friend. The crimes seemed to range from mugging to unauthorized human trials. He flipped to the last page, which had a sticky note on its surface with the note ¡°Authorities are in on it.¡± Shawn immediately thought of his mother, if the authorities are in on it¡­ contacting the police will be to no use, on the contrary, it will catch Timur¡¯s attention. ¡°Fuck, this is bad,¡± Shawn said out loud. Drained, he closed the binder and stared into thin air. He had only one thought in his mind now, what had they done with Elmer? For a while, Shawn just sat there with his jaw wide open. He felt the urge to tell everyone, just like a child that learns something it shouldn¡¯t have. ¡°Hey, this cool but dangerous thing is going on,¡± he would say if he could. But a voice deep from inside told him, ¡°Stay calm and be careful,or it might cost you your family and your life.¡± He took that voice of reason by its word. He double-checked he had the pictures in his phone and then lowered a trapdoor from the unused attic above his apartment, where he carefully hid the binder. I don¡¯t know what to do about this¡­ no way mother will listen. First thing she does is that she runs to the police. I can¡¯t tell her. But what will I do? What can I do? No need to freak out¡­ just yet. Chances are he will show up eventually¡­ but¡­ with every day¡­ the probability, ¡°decreases,¡± he finished aloud. He scratched his head, I¡¯ll keep it to myself for now. I¡¯ll check out mom¡¯s condition when I visit them this weekend. Chapter 4: Scene 1: The Magic Mushroom Trip You can¡¯t just randomly trust people¡­ Fuck it, he thought, ordered another beer, and decided to forget about it all for a while. Should I? He stood up, took a step, then halted in his tracks, balled his hands in fists, contemplating. Is this really a good idea? It was out of character for him to have a trip without preparation. Just go with it, he thought and walked over to the desk drawer. He opened it, and out of the mess, he pulled out a little plastic bag, a recycled bag that a dealer had given him once with some weed inside. Now it held something else, a few dried mushrooms and a desiccant. He grew them himself with the mushroom-growing boxes freely available on the internet. The possession of the box was legal but growing wasn¡¯t. Out of the drawer, he pulled out a small scale, on which he placed an empty plastic bowl. He then emptied the satchel of mushrooms into the container and weighed his mushrooms. Eight grams¡­ let¡¯s go with five? He asked himself. They didn¡¯t pack a punch last time. For some reason, his last batch had been pretty lackluster. He assumed it was his lack of equipment. However, this time he bought a heating mat and a humidity and temperature gauge. He was pretty sure this batch would be it. five should be good, which was enough to send a normal person into the realm of death and rebirth. He ground the mushrooms and poured hot water over them, then added a bag of tea. He dropped the satchel with affection into the broth and squeezed out a shit ton of honey, somewhat aggressively, as he said, ¡°Yeaaah baby.¡± Underneath, however, he felt tense. He sighed as the playful spirit deserted him, and all that was left was fear. He now sat at the desk with the mug before him. With his head resting on his fists, he stared at the wall as if avoiding eye contact with the potion. Usually, it is dark blue; he thought as he stole a look at the transparent brown liquid. Something must have gone wrong during the cultivation, he worried. Blue stands for oxidized psilocybin, he thought but didn¡¯t finish the thought, that already oxidized psilocybin is inactive in the human body. He took out his phone to distract himself, flipping through some videos about puppies while trying not to think too much as he sipped his way into oblivion. However, he had no time to settle. Slow things down a bit, but it was no use. He sat cross-legged on his chair, ¡°I¡¯ve been here before,¡± he said aloud. ¡°I can handle this.¡± Just need to meditate and breathe, and it will wash away. He tried to focus on his breath and calm his mind. However, the intention was to fight what was happening to him. The fight grew in intensity, and the odds were not in his favor. ¡°These mushrooms are the real deal,¡± he said aloud, ¡°fuck.¡± Why did I do this? Why do I do this to myself? Tears began to roll down his cheeks, one after the other. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. You¡¯ll be fine. It¡¯s just you¡­ your mind. There¡¯s nothing there. However, it was of no use. He spoke words of surrender but fought at the same time. Submit.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a message,¡± he said, Terror. He twisted and wrenched in the bed. Remorse and sadness replaced the fear. He wept for the pain and suffering of people across the globe. What the hell just happened? Chapter 4: Scene 2: Neglect & Resistance Watch me write here: https://youtu.be/HpB7RBNf0r0 Shawn¡¯s body felt heavy, the blankets soft and warm. From behind the curtains, a few rays stole their way into his chambers. He wanted to sleep further. However, a voice in his mind urged him to check the time. He hated to sleep in. Half past nine¡­ fuck. He sat up and sat there with a stork¡¯s nest of a hairstyle, his eyes glued with crust. He tried to get up several times, but his body wouldn¡¯t budge. After one last yawn, he swung to his feet. Thoughts swelled in his mind as he assessed his position in space and time. Friday? Friday. A picture of Timur and Elmer manifested before him, followed by a cringe. Uh, uh,¡­ not first thing in the morning. He chugged down three mugs of water while eyeing the mountain of fat-soaked dishes. Fuck. Still in his pajamas, he washed his face, brushed his teeth, and somewhat sorted his hair. He pulled a plate from the pile, washed off the muck, then, without drying it, tossed his toasted bread on it. With a clang, he put the plate on the table, then munched his bread. He felt the voices and questions further swelling in him. Amazon? Will? Timur? Elmer? I¡¯m broke. Loan? Should I see Truman? Haven¡¯t worked out in days. Should I clean up? What if I get lost in the Amazon? Mushrooms? ¡°Pfff-fuck,¡± a sigh turned into a curse as he rested his head in his palm. He watched an episode of Full Metal Alchemist, then sat on his sofa for a moment. He suppressed the restless demons in his mind by sheer willpower. What to do today? Studies? Do I¡­. ¡°Arghhh¡­¡± he pulled his hair. Out of nowhere, he felt sparkles of excitement as the memory of pungent weed penetrated his mind. A weed elf danced before his eyes. ¡°Fuck yes,¡± he said. I am not doing shit today. I¡¯ll get high, chill, and order some Indian¡­food. He laughed. However, it went a bit different than he had expected. He hit the bong, and anxiety filled his chest instead of relief. In an instant, he felt small, insignificant, incompetent, and unreliable. The demons broke down the walls, sat him down on the couch, and locked him in place. Shawn couldn¡¯t move even if he wanted to. What do they put in the weed nowadays? Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. The demons made themselves nice and comfy on the coffee table. Each of them had something to say. ¡°Well, well¡­ look at you, with your greasy hair and crumbs. Hihihi, could as well have some mother¡¯s milk running down your chin, aye? Haven¡¯t been working out, have you? All soft and pale. How do you think anyone would want to lay in a bed with you? All alone in this shithole, aren¡¯t you? On this sorry-looking couch¡­ all wrinkled¡­ the stuffings showing. Don¡¯t you have shit to work on? What about your studies? Mister I-will-be-a-mycology-doctor, do you really think you will make it anywhere¡­ frail as you are?¡± Said the first of the demons, with his head leaning toward Shawn, grinning and staring at him with his leery devilish eyes. Like one of those Aztec masks, but his face was obscure like a dark cloud. He dug his finger into Shawn¡¯s chest. Another one jumped in. ¡°Weak is a good one! Innit? Weak is a good one! Hehe. That Elmer fella¡­ he has your daddy¡­ you know that, right? What are you gonna do about it, huh? You¡­ little, stinky, smelly¡­ cockroach! A cockroach he is. Hehe. Isn¡¯t he? Smelly, and a cockroach too! No wonder he doesn¡¯t love ya, your daddy.¡± The demon nodded in quick and short intervals, some kind of tic, laughing and looking toward his demon brothers for affirmation, just to be met by a whack to the back of his head. ¡°Shut up,¡± said the tallest demon. His voice was deep, almost bearish, clearly somewhat older than the other two. Then the demon turned and looked at Shawn, ¡°So is that what you will do? Smoke weed and play video games? Letting your mother worry? Don¡¯t you think she could need your support? Then the audacity to be surprised that she doesn¡¯t love you...? All those half-witty remarks you make every time? Tsk, childish. Man¡­ I thought you¡¯d at least be there for them, that you¡¯d at least show some solidarity¡­ before you¡­ decompose. Tsk.¡± Every click of his tongue felt like a whip on Shawn¡¯s back. They kept mocking him, but he hadn¡¯t looked at them once, his head hanging from his neck like a deflated balloon, his hair hanging before his eyes like a curtain. He got up, walked to the fridge, and pulled out a chocolate milk bar. He then walked to his table, sat at his laptop, put on some headphones, and listened to rap music. He bobbed his head to the beat. All the while, the demons followed him, mocked him, and glared at him, never leaving his side. Never. Here and there, he felt disturbed. He couldn¡¯t see them but felt their presence, which grew stronger at the slightest sign of sobriety. Without hesitation, he filled the bong bowl a little more each time. When he took a lungful of smoke, despite the burn in his throat, despite the buzz in his head, he sucked on it like it was fresh mountain air. No matter how much he took in, he never felt he got his fill. After he overdosed, reaching delirium, he passed out on the couch. Once he got up, he¡¯d fill up again. He created a ritual that would be repeated for the next two weeks. He even, somehow, managed to do his homework and labwork, high as a kite. Which, as he assessed, was quite a performance. Chapter 4: Scene 3: Purple Eyes This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. but¡­ what if I die there? Unaware the weed paranoia was hitting him hard. What if I get lost? What if our plane crashes? Do I just leave Will alone? ¡°Will¡­,¡± Shawn remembered his little brother, thinking of how Will would eventually grow up ¡ª what kind of person will he be?¡ª trying to put himself in Will¡¯s shoes, he couldn¡¯t help but think what Will would think of him one day. Was he a good big brother? Was he a good role model? What would Will think of his fear and indecisiveness in this very moment? what good could I do? How could I actually help? As far as he was concerned, love and awareness would definitely soothe the symptoms, but not solve the root of the problem, which was brewing for many years, and everyone knew it, or at least felt it. Fuck this, I¡¯d rather die than sit and contemplate my entire life. I am going. In an instant he could hear the demons laugh over his shoulder, ¡°Look at him, hehe, brave one isn¡¯t he? Brave he is. But live he will not. Die he will, the cockroach, hehe.¡± The demon nodded even more frantically than usual. Please don¡¯t let me die. I need to see them. We must be a family again. Until everything is as it used to be. Please. Chapter 4: Scene 4: Memories bad could really happen? The conversation with his mother, on the other hand, really bothered him. He walked up to his mother when she was cooking, stirring the boiling stew with an absent mind. real danger,¡± he continued, ¡°He is either out, doing some research, or he made a run for it, drinking his head to a pulp in a pub somewhere.¡± bad might have happened? Like¡­ something really bad? What do I¡­ what do we do if your dad had an accident? What if he passed out somewhere, or got robbed, or¡­¡± If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. this bad, standing in silence, contemplating what to say next. Something to comfort her and himself. Should he even bring up the Amazon thing, now that it¡¯s like this? No, he knew he had to. It was a done thing, he couldn¡¯t back out anymore. really bad already? And how many times did we make it out alive? All of them. This is no exception. Things may look bleak right now, but it is a long way from where we are to being homeless. If push comes to shove, somewhere on that timeline at least one of us will wake up and take initiative, if not you, then me.¡± you going to provide for us? The indebted student?¡± now, but if the roof is on fire, then I wouldn¡¯t hesit¡ª¡± crazy happened. I talked to the Prof, you know¡­ Mr. S.?¡± adults,¡± Shawn drew quotation marks in the air with both his hands, ¡°go and do something stupid? I finally got a chance to do something I always dreamed of, and then, I am supposed to sit here and do what exactly?¡± Chapter 4: Scene 6 He felt uneasy reminiscing, but before he had the chance to distract himself, sitting on his chair at the dorm, another memory jumped before his eyes. gummies she¡¯s been taking, but by the looks of it, she must have had a couple of sleepless nights. That would also explain the hug she gave me, he reasoned, for when she had been popping pills, she¡¯d have guilt wash over her, resulting in weird fits of affection, and Shawn wasn¡¯t fond of them, all right. Poor Will, god. Dad is gone, and Mom seems to be entirely out of it. He is all alone. Why am I leaving? Shouldn¡¯t I be here to take care of him? If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. these were the first steps on his journey. It was a most peculiar conjuncture of brain chemicals that made it feel like his heart was on fire. Peculiar because that very fire that was burning him, the pain of leaving his family behind, also prodded him, for it meant he had something worth pursuing, something bigger, beyond the pain he felt. ¡°Here we go,¡± he said, lifting his pants and straightening his jacket again. Sixteenth of August. I am packing my things, ashamed. Ashamed to be so fearful. Ashamed that I am of no use to my family¡­ I¡¯m worried about them. The voices in my head are violent. Will they ever go away? Let this trip spur my passion for biology, and if it should be that I find out that I hate it and don¡¯t want to do this anymore¡­ then so be it. Just let me move on.¡± wonder who is going to be there¡­? Chapter 5: Scene 2: The Amazon After hopping planes in Amsterdam, they now sat on a direct flight to Cusco, Peru. Grueling ten hours in tight economy seats gnawed on Shawn, who, already exhausted, was milling over in his mind that they would have only a short rest at the hotel in Cusco, and then it¡¯d be another full day of travel to a lodge in the jungle. Not that he wasn¡¯t looking forward to it, but the unexpected, early exhaustion called for a critical evaluation. He had to take inventory. Must¡¯ve been growing roots in the city, he contemplated, wondering whether the others felt just as tired. The little devils inside of him took notice of his weak moment, and the eldest sneered at him, ¡°It was s¡¯posed to be an adventure, remember? Tsk,¡± clicking his nasty tongue again. ¡°Soft and weak. Disgusting, isn¡¯t he? Weak? Hehe,¡± asked the tiniest, feeblest demon, nodding, staring askance at his demon brothers. ¡°Should¡¯ve stayed at home, kiddo,¡± the third one chimed in. He squirmed in his seat, hoping to find at least some relief. Goddamn leg room, he protested, agitated by the numbness in his lower back and their crippling whispering. Here I am, just¡­ Is there anything in this world I would enjoy doing? Or am I just too soft? Although he was questioning his resilience, he did not do so in a whiny way but rather with a readiness to admit whether he misjudged himself, his capabilities. To see, realistically, whether there were things he thought he was good at but wasn¡¯t so good at them after all. His demons weren¡¯t going to come forth in such fairness and courtesy, ¡°No, you¡¯re just a little bitch, that¡¯s all.¡± One of them replied, dumping his judgment on top of his dome, hoping it would trigger Shawn¡¯s crippling insecurities. He was inspecting his inner world in search of an earnest answer to his question. The demons didn¡¯t like his ignorance, nor his nosing around, in their territory too, which is probably why their insults grew louder and stronger, as if wanting to hold him back. It was when they were almost unbearable that he stumbled upon a seed of pain in a nook of his soul, which, when he stepped closer to it, sprouted, releasing a memory like a spring trap. He found himself at home. It was Christmas. He knew because the big old plastic Christmas tree was nestled in the corner of the already, with decorations and statues filled up, living room. All of the men wore jeans and shirts, whereas Christine had a charming dress, make-up, and earrings on. Christine and Elmer smiled at each other and held hands. Will was there too, and oh, how tiny he still was, his feet dangling from the single-seater, watching TV, Home Alone it must have been. One of the rare times they all got along. He hadn¡¯t even noticed his mother leaving before she surprised him with a big glass bowl filled with chocolate pudding, small cookies on top, and melted raspberries on the bottom. Before she handed him the bowl, she gave him a hug and a kiss on the top of his head. ¡°Gosh, you got thick hair,¡± she¡¯d mess it up a bit, ¡°here you go.¡± If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Shawn had a smile on his face but felt a sting in his chest. He remembered how Grandpa came around and had a drink or two in the festive living room, dancing to old ABBA music and doing the bumping thing with Mom. They¡¯d bump hips to the beat, all right. Drunk and excited as they were, maybe a bit too excited, missing the beats, one of them bumping with too much force so that both of them went tumbling to the ground, the lack of athleticism making it a rather amusing sight, just like old timber falling. Laughs filled the room of their home that evening. The sweet sound of laughter by the people he loved most. He really wanted it to be this way again, wondering where it all went wrong. He was torn out of it by other passengers pressing their pumpkins against the windows. He had two other dudes between him and the window, but with some strain, he could see what the ruckus was about. He caught a glimpse of green, the Amazon. Twitching his neck, looking for Truman in the rows next to him, and finally finding him, just to see that Trumans wide open eyes were already locked in on him. They exchanged a grin, making two big stupid-happy faces, and also pressed their pumpkins against the windows, or just Truman, Shawn couldn''t reach. His heart was thumping in his throat, fire smoldering in his chest, and if he had hair on his back, it¡¯d be standing as well, all that, because right there before him, stretched, what seemed to be an endless green ¡ªthe green ocean¡ª as he loved to call it. A lush, neverending canopy of colossal trees bathed in from the mountain descending clouds and tired rays of a setting sun, which traveled billions of miles just for him, to throw light on this spectacle, and have him lay his eyes on it. Or so it felt. His back and neck aching from the strain, but he didn¡¯t budge. He was deaf to the mumbling and cawing in the plane, gazing into the tiny round window as outlines of a river leered their way into his visual field. Its water was brown, soaking the roots of ancient trees and the Amazonian soil for centuries. He figured that the little stretch he could see must have held countless microbes, fish, amphibians, reptiles, and mammals, immediately thinking of the giant river otters he was so keen to see. He sat down again and stared at the seat before him, covering his mouth with the side of his balled hand in awe. He noticed the bitterness had left him and embraced feeling alive again. A real adventure, at last.