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The world feels small.
Well, the lack of a world, really.
This small room with its small chair and its big eyes have gotten smaller.
Everything feels smaller.
Maybe that’s because of the rather sudden growth spurt.
From ground level to above the skies.
Mono (that’s my name, right?) doesn’t want to admit it, but the chair he sits in has gotten rather small.
Mono closes his eyes, through the silver veil of lies he sees things. Not just things, but everything. His sight is replaced with that of blind omnividence; he can only see through televisions. (It’s better than nothing.)
Through the televisions, Mono sees. He sees nothing. Nothing new, nothing old. Just static images of places he wishes he could be. (But that’s not true!)
Today, things will be different. Today, there will be some change.
Hope. A fickle yet potent thing.
Maybe the rain will stop pouring.
Maybe Mono will fall asleep.
Maybe The Eyes will invade his mind and berate him.
Maybe someone will journey through the Pale City.
Maybe Six will open the door and let him free.
Be free.
Maybe Mono will be free.
Hope. A fickle yet terrible curse.
There’s nothing new.
If there’s nothing new, then Mono has an alternative form of entertainment.
Memories!
Finite yet infinite.
Mono’s memories are clear and definite. Sometimes they’re more trustworthy than the metal screens.
On days like these, Mono can recall his adventures start to finish. Although, Mono has done this so many times, his memories have gotten a tad dull.
But if there’s one journey he loves to death, it’s his time with Six. The thrills, the fear, the friendship, it’s unforgettable. (Unforgettable for all the wrong reasons.)
It all started in the woods.
It all started with that blasted television.
It’s strange. Truly an oddity.
Of the millions of televisions Mono can see through, the only TV he can’t tune is the one from the woods.
If anything, it’s a massive irritance.
Mono would love to watch the woods. Watch the leaves fall, see the grass sway from the winds of the woods, observe whatever animals may be alive.
Nature is a rare thing.
All Mono wants is to see that television.
Yet, every time he tries to see beyond the city walls, his transmission fails him.
Mono has asked The Eyes for help, yet they claim that their power is finite compared to his. They lie, (when haven’t they?) but Mono has a feeling. A hunch.
Maybe today will be different.
Mono closes his eyes, through the silver veil of lies he sees nothing.
He focuses, tries to imagine that special forest.
The green grass, the tall trees, the small sun rays, the lonely leaves, the grimy gravel road leading onwards, all the small details.
Maybe today will be different.
(It’s here!)
The brief breeze of the wild winds, the smell of odd oak, the buzzing of buzzards, it’s all so visceral.
Mono stretches his arms, trying to literally push through his imagination. Although, he feels something. A faint resistance.
Mono pushes harder, his hard hands feeling the fuzzy figment of imagination. Whatever it is, it’s blocking him. But it won’t today. No longer.
Today will be different.
(There! It’s there!)
An opening, brief but bumpy. With all of his might, Mono pushes. His legs push him from his seat as something begins to wrap itself around his hands. Something, no, someone is pulling him through.
It feels familiar.
Mono opens his eyes. He looks around, dazed like usual. His wooden bed from the night prior is now replaced with grassy soil. Mono could swear he slept in the trees last night, even after the strange midnight ordeal. Even worse, his bag is gone! He’s awake in a strange land with little memory and no bag, probably the worst case scenario.
If there's one thing Mono can remember clear as day, it’s last night. The midnight moon, the odd sounds, the stranger, the monster, it plays on repeat within Mono’s mind.
Maybe today will be different. Maybe Mono will go on a rescue mission. Maybe.
The big, ugly hunter took the stranger. If Mono remembers, the monster has a house. If he’s quick, then maybe Mono can save them!
With a mission on his mind, Mono begins his journey.
As Mono runs through the forest, things begin to fall into place. Some traps Mono narrowly avoids because of an itch that warns him of danger. He wonders if he’s been here before. But that can't be possible, he’s barely been in the forest for three nights. There's no way he could know about all these traps, right?
Then, it appears. The house. It looks old and recognizable. Something tells Mono that the only way through is the window. Although, his hunch doesn't tell him what's in the house. Maybe it’s food! Mono can't remember the last time he's had a good meal, let alone a warm snack.
Mono climbs through the window and explores the kitchen. Most everything is either rotten beyond comprehension or so putrid that he recoils at its smell. If Mono can’t find food, there's always clothes.
Mono pushes the kitchen door open and—
Is someone crying?
Far off, yet close nearby, the faint sobs of a stranger echo through the empty house. The cries sound young, like the wails of a child. It could be the child Mono saw in the moonlight! Perhaps a chance for redemption? With that on his mind, Mono heads towards the basement.
With each creak of the old stairs, Mono feels a strong tinge of regret. If he’s not careful, there's a chance he may not leave this basement. But as he reaches the bottom of the stairs, as he hears the mournful weeps from the adjacent room, a strong feeling of guilt washes over him. He can't leave this child here, especially not in this place.
Mono pushes on the door to the cries, but it’s not a door. It’s a wooden blockade, a poorly built one at that. Through the cracks in the blockade Mono can see the child.
A frail, sorrow filled girl sits on the floor. By her side sits a music box; it’s hardly been touched.
Mono watches the girl as she weeps. She cries as if nothing really matters.
Mono takes a step back, calculating a way to take down the blockade. He needs to save Six. Chances are, with a blunt object, he can break down the door.
Wait.
Six?
Who’s Six?
Mono ignores his confused mind as he searches the basement. Now is no time to ponder over things that don't matter. If he isn't quick, then neither of them will escape.
Who is Six?
Mono enters the adjacent room, scanning the area for a solution. Like a light in the night, his answer shines brightly. Mono climbs onto a pile of insertable objects and hops to drag the hatchet from its resting place. With a healthy thud, both Mono and the hatchet land onto the ground; he wastes no time dragging the hatchet out of the room.
As Mono reaches the barricade, a pang of pain fills his heart. The sobs from the blocked room, while depressing in their own right, trigger a strange desire of rescue.
Mono carries the hatchet and crashes it onto the barricade, prompting wood chips to fly into the empty room.
The girl sits there, all alone in a lonely room. She uncovers her face and looks at Mono; she looks devastated. The outline of forgotten tears scar her face while new ones highlight the grime scattered across her cheeks. Her hair, surprisingly, covers her face with a causal form. Yet, behind those bangs, a gaze so strange pierces Mono’s soul.
Their eyes almost lock as the distance between them, unchanged, seems to get closer and closer. Despite seeing this girl once, Mono can't help but feel even more astonished at her sight.
They look at each other for what feels like forever.
But something unknown slips out of Mono’s mouth.
“Six?”
Why did I say that?
The girl extends her hands as a fresh batch of tears pour from her face.
She wants a hug.
Mono drops the hatchet and runs to her.
Unbeknownst to him, tears of his own begin to fall in unison with the girls.
They both embrace each other as a wave of sweet nostalgia washes over them.
Who is this girl?
The duo stay interlocked, almost unable to let each other go. Mono lowers himself so he can comfortably hold the girl. The girl shoves her face into Mono’s shoulder, taking refuge from Mono’s stare.
As time grows, the girl’s grip on Mono only tightens, as if she's afraid to lose him. Mono doesn't hate the hug, but he really misses his bag.
“Mono… I’m so sorry…”
How do you know my name?
Nothing makes sense.
Mono can sense traps, he lost his bag, this random girl knows his name and he feels a strong sense of yearning towards her!
This stranger is turning his world upside down.
Eventually, the girl’s grip on him softens. Finally, they release each other.
Mono looks at her.
She looks back.
Their expressions differ wildly.
The girl shoves Mono off and rushes out of the room, leaving him in the dust.
“Wh— hey! Wait up!”
Mono follows the girl.
In the blink of an eye, the experience they had together disappears.
And the pieces fall into place.
He was dropped.
(Again?)
Again.
When he arrived at the chair, a familiar sight was waiting for him.
A bag with two holes that held no significance.
It fit perfectly.
The ages went on and nothing changed.
When a young boy woke up lost in the woods, he had a bag on his head.
There were no cries as far as the ear could hear.
Someone held the key to freedom.
But they forgot how to use it.