I exit my new home, turn left and a-hot-flush-races-through-my-body-gone-as-quick-as-it-had-came begin walking.

It’s a red-hot day and the heat is close, but a satisfying cool breeze is nudges through the air and it flutters against my tired face.

A few turns into and out of the breaths of wind, and I find myself strolling along a rugged path that reaches up a steady hill. As I reach the top, I recognise a rickety, yellowing store I noticed when I first arrived under the cover of a dark night two days ago.

As I enter the store, I’m greeted by half-empty, tattered shelves, none of them anywhere near horizontal. A few random non-descript tins and pouches look they they’re growing from them. Every single item wears a coat of dust, and I presume, they wouldn’t even have labels underneath to show how out of date they are.

A gruff voice from the far-corner of the store disturbs the silence. “Help you, chief?”

I hear the man, but I still cannot see him. And he doesn’t bother to show himself.

“Just looking”, I reply to the thick, grey air.

“Suit yourself, hoss”, the invisible proprietor retorts, which is followed by a meaty cough so violent it threatens to knock over the mess of a stock pile I am fairly certain he’s perched behind.

I don’t bother considering anything other than walking back through the door I just came in.

Pausing on the step of the store to look around the bleak surroundings, I notice a young boy walking out of a the an even uglier store than the one I have my back to. How will I beat it when the time comes? This grubby looking young’un with ripped slacks and a hostile demeanour cracks open what looks like a tin of beans and glugs down the entire contents before he’s even taken four steps. Halfway through tossing the can to the ground, excess juice dashing all over, he spots me. Feigning confidence, he straightens his back and narrows his eyes.

“Help you… mister?”

I take a step towards.

“Looks like you’re in need of a bit of law and order in these parts?”

He nervously eyes me up and down then hurriedly shuffles off around a corner, his dissident middle finger the last part to disappear.

I can’t imagine he’s journeying toward any place I’d be keen to explore, so I head off in the opposite direction.

I turn down a street that’s littered with a few more (in)convenience stores, how many years has it been? I’ve lost count. A few hundred, at least and decide to at least wander past them – check out what’s not on offer from a safe distance.

Halfway through the street, I see a larger building in the distance which looks marginally more interesting than anything else so far, so I beeline. As I get closer, I notice two letters (and a faint mark where the middle letter used to be) above the beaten, heavy front door – B R.

No less stifling than outdoors, the gloomy space is near-empty.  A lone old-timer snoozes in the corner and dust dances in the air.

As I approached the counter, the second invisible voice of my morning proffers, “What will you have?”

A stout middle-aged almost-old-timer creakily rises from behind the heavy oak counter.

“Got some Ruby on, if you fancy? Fresh in.”

‘Fresh’? I assume that actually means it’s two summers fresh, at best.

“I’ll take a half.”

The B rman smiles gleefully, as if he was certain I was going to turn on my heals and exit instead of sampling his special poison.

He busies himself pumping the Ruby. He side-eye peers at me a few times, which I can feel even as I turn to take another scan of the joint. Nothing has changed – or moved – apart from the dust.

He puts the half on the counter and slides it the short distance over to me.

“Just popping back down the cellar, friend. Be back with you in less than a moment.”

I nod towards his already turned back and take the Ruby. why was I chosen? all who have failed before me Warm Ruby. This wasn’t going to be anything close to tasty. I take a sip and instantly regret it. My two summers prediction was generous.

I spray some coin on the counter and leave before the risk of small talk returns with the curious man.

Walking out into a hotter heat than I left five minutes ago, I decide to call it a day. More than enough adventure for one morning.

Approaching from the opposite direction I left from, I notice a thin pebbled lane – half-hidden by overgrown brush, no more than 20 feet from where I’m staying.

It can’t be any worse than…

I round the corner and am stunned. Surely… Surely not? Yes… Green. I quick-step towards the by-far-brightest colours I’ve seen all day with a newfound gusto carrying me along. Is that…? Is that water I can hear? I quicken my pace and round another surprise corner. Incredible. I’m half-blinded by the reveal of a glistening, serene lake. Enormous and calm. I stop in front of the lake for a few moments taking in the almost evanescent, perfectly peaceful scenery. How unexpected. How stunning. How out of place. 

After basking in this newfound serenity for a while, feeling somewhat rejuvenated, I decide I should head back (happy in the knowledge this tranquil area is only a stone’s throw away). The thought of returning the next morning is more than enough to carry me through my chores for the day.

Maybe a new beginning was possible?

As I round the corner and approach my door, a half-thought enters my mind.

I should have…

I push open the door and (another-hot-flush-races-through-my-body-gone-as-soon-as-it-had-came-but-followed-by-a-strange-feeling-deep-in-the-recesses-of-my-being) instantly feel that something isn’t quite right. There’s less space in this house than there was when I left. I open the door fully and step into the hallway.

I knew it was here even before I look up. I had no idea what to expect, or even what exactly it would look like, this time. But that didn’t matter. All that mattered was, it was here.

I slowly raise my head and peer down the hallway of my half-lit home, past the dining room and into the kitchen. Its presence grows as I try to steady myself. It towers to the top of the (tall) ceiling, arches forward and sets to attack. The heavy armour glistens in the light streaking through the window. I can sense its lust for my blood and my soul. Its horned, bulky helmet fills the doorway, covering all its face except for the burning, fiery eyes. Under this menacing metal exterior, an infinitely powerful and savage beast bulks. It looks like a hardened, blood thirsty ancient warrior of a creature who has fought one hundred colossal battles from the front line yet yearns for more. Its sinister eyes brighten even more as they meet mine. Smoke begins to trail out of its nostrils and its breathing becomes heavier like a bull catching a glimpse of red. A hulking arm slowly reaches around behind the immense, powerful frame of its torso and from its back, it draws out its axe. It then stands perfectly still for a few seconds. Not waiting for me, but savouring the moment. The moment before it obliterates me. A final puff of smoke fires out of its nostrils creating a thick whirlwind of fog as it clashes with the sunlight. I calmly straighten my back and tighten my shoulders. I clench my fists, hold my stare, and try to make myself as ready as I can be.

Every single muscle and every ounce of strength in my body is on guard, ready to dart towards my glaive that’s sitting in the corner of the dining room. I’m milliseconds from making my move when the horrifying realisation suddenly grips me. I am not ready.

I should have turned right.