Welcome to our anthology! Enjoy this interactive table of contents/jigsaw puzzle/brief meditative exercise/short story. Best experienced on a PC, but should work perfectly well on phones or other devices. Hints here. (recommended you play through at least once before consulting them, but definitely consider it part of the full work.)
You wake up in a field of [ ]. It smells fragrant in here.
Approach the [ ] What?You get up and turn to the [ ].
Mmm, you sniff the [ ] and [ ]. Gorgeous.
You sneeze, once.
Run your hands through the [ ]. What is this place?You are in a field of [ ]. It smells fresh, and sweet.
What is this place? Oh, okay. ContinueThe stalks bend and snap under your fingers.
There is now a patch of wilted [ ].
pdf exampleYou are in the epicenter of a quandranted flower field. As you stand, in front of you lie two fields, one deadly quiet, the other tendersweet. Behind you to one side [ ] burst in splendour and decay, and to the other a peaceful atmosphere perfumes the air.
Where do you go?
Forward, right. A bright innocence compels you to come forth. Backward, left. You taste the ripeness of rot in the back of your throat. Backward, right. The smell cloys, you want to sink yourself in it. Forward, left. Some darkly beautiful impulse calls you from the stillness. You stay right where you are.Bellis perennis, common daisy
A child waves at you with her entire arm, grinning widely. She's been waiting for you for so long.
"Come on, let's go!" she tells you, coming forward to pull at your hand, "You promised!" she insists.
Let her lead you further in. You shake her off warily. You make your way back to the centre.Punica granatum, pomegranate blossom
The ground glitters with split-open fruit, it sticks to your shoes and squelches underfoot. Whispers of some otherworldly event or occasion seep through, perhaps a party or ball of some sort. Raucous laughter distilled into a hint of a hint on the breeze.
You click your tongue a few times as you follow the trail of dead leaves to the source of the sound. You keep swallowing, but the feeling of small things wriggling in your throat continues unabated. You try to not imagine coughing up maggots.
The dead leaves are not the dry sort, so they squelch underneath. They pile up near a massive hole. You peer in; it appears bottomless. When you reach the hole, you have a choice to make.
Jump into the hole. Looking at it makes you woozy, you decide to go back.Spathiphyllum cochlearispathum, peace lily
You breathe out air and breathe in [ ]. There's so many of them, and so many different types.
Lakes are stuffed full to choking with water [ ] You fall to your knees, letting them envelop you. What? No! You quickly backtrack to the center.
Atropa bella-donna, deadly nightshade
In front of you a woman stands contrapposto, high blush set on her cheeks, her hair delicately pinned up. She shields another woman from you, her hair hanging down in dull orange dreadlocks.
They both stare at you wordlessly, the woman before you with a touch of hostility, the one behind her with cautious curiosity.
If you play your cards right, you might be able to learn something.
You ask her a question. The silence is too oppressive, you go back.In mere moments you can barely breathe. The assualt on your senses is suffocating, your choice or lack thereof closes in on you and you feel the edges of your vision turn hazy. No, this can't be it, could it? You struggle to stay upright — the time for moving in any direction is past. You had one chance and you blew it.
But you can't give up. So you accept your fate.But.. there's only so much you can do, rooted into place by forces both tangible and narrative, forced to play out your existence beat by agonising beat.
You want out. Or at least "you" want out.
But unfortunately, it doesn't work like that. You're stuck here. This is it.Breathe out, slowly. Again. Take a moment, feel the vines snaking up your legs loosening, the thorns threatening to pierce your skin carefully retracting, the overpowering stench turning back to a soft aroma. Breathe. Breathe.
Soon enough, everything goes back to how it was. The fields are unchanged. You suspect it would be unwise to stay where you are for much longer.
Forward, left. Some darkly beautiful impulse calls you from the stillness. Its silent song is laced with urgency. Forward, right. A bright innocence compels you to come forth. It's getting impatient, and impatience makes it sad. Backward, left. You taste the ripeness of rot in the back of your throat. Flies buzz between your vocal cords. Backward, right. The smell cloys, you want to sink yourself in it. Nothing has changed. No, goddamnit. You're not moving.Have you considered:-