Walk Down the Beach

You continue on by foot. What’s the point of driving when the world is all one big fiction in my mind? you reason, and consider how no means of travel quite makes any difference; may as well enjoy the feeling of sand on my feet. The beach eventually leads you to cliff overlooking a pool being fed by a tall waterfall. You spot a figure standing under a palm tree at the edge of the cliff.

“Hello.” you say as you examine the stranger. He looks like a polygonal avatar of an old bald man wearing thick rimmed glasses, a plaid red shirt, and blue suspenders.  This man does not seem like he is from this world. “Who are you?” you ask. He says nothing – his face an empty surface of impersonal pareidolia. You struggle to determine whether the form has a mind within it, or just some spooky prop thrown within your mind from some world beyond. His cell shaded lips curl up to a smile to reveal jagged teeth speckled with multicolored dots. You feel a chill and unexplainable dread – an adrenaline rush of fight or flight fills your body with the need to act fast.

>punch the man

>run away