Chapter Text
You had figured it out a few months prior.
Lying in bed, body heavy, you desperately whispered the chorus to Metallica’s “Enter Sandman” into the darkness.
“Exit: light,
Enter: night.
Take my hand…”
If you whispered it enough times, sleep would lead you to a fantastical land; an alternate universe full of colorful characters and unmatched whimsy. You’d initially told yourself it was simply a dream, but as more time passed and you revisited the place, you learned more and more about the remarkable place. You didn’t really want to think about if there was truly some incredible fantasy land you could visit by performing that harmless ritual, or if you were just overdue for a psychological examination.
“Take my hand,
We’re off to never-never land.”
Your rushedly whispered chants were met only with the unwelcoming silence of your dark room, bringing with it a droning high note that pestered your eardrums. You whimpered softly, frustration prickling at your eyes in the form of tears.
A few moments later, you felt your surroundings disappear. You were immersed in complete blackness. Far off in the distance, you spotted a pair of glowing white… eyes? They blinked, disappearing momentarily before reappearing before you. You recognized the dimly-lit figure; bright eyes illuminated a tanned face, painted with a cartoon smile and topped with a dark, disheveled emo fringe. The Sandman reached out to you with a gloved hand, and you took it without hesitation. You were again swallowed by darkness.
….
Upon opening your eyes, you were greeted by the comforting familiarity of whimsical street lamps illuminating a cartoonish landscape. Glancing upwards, you were met with a starry night sky painted with streaks of blue and purple—-scenery that was reminiscent of a Van Gogh painting. A warm, floral scent wrapped around you comfortingly, queuing your muscles to relax instinctively.
The moment you stepped towards the scenery, a sharp sting shot up your legs, overriding the pleasant sensations.
Right. The raw skin on your knees screamed angrily, a reminder of what motivated your return.
I have to find The Doctor.
You glanced around in search of The Carrousel; you’d figured out that each time you arrived in Weird Town, you would spawn in a different place. No matter; as if it was destiny, your instincts never failed to lead you to the looming, glittering structure.
After roaming through the dimly-lit field for a little while, your feet dragging behind you in protest, you found yourself standing before a familiar hedge. Vibrant leaves rustled as your shaky hands parted a thicket, making room to wiggle through. You bit your lip, taking care to pull yourself through as gingerly as possible, as not to inflict any unwanted pain on your already-throbbing kneecaps.
With one last push, you finally tugged yourself out of the colorful hedge, nearly tripping over an uncomfortably slimy vine before finding yourself stumbling into a clearing. You were greeted by a serene scene; a constant golden hour spilled over colorful papercraft daises, which sprouted freely over 50 acres of rolling hills. Cool, fluffy grass tickled the bottoms of your socked feet. The welcoming presence of The Carrousel stood in the center of the scene: Victorian-era embroidery carved into gold-painted wood, arching over an array of colorful, bounding wooden horses. Framed by round bulbs which twinkled lazily about the structure, granting it a fantastical aura reminiscent of a kids’ dream. Upon wandering closer, one would find that The Carrousel was guarded by a (admittedly, quite unimpressive) moat, filled generously with some sort of viscous iridescent fluid. What it was, you hadn’t figured out quite yet. What you had figured out was that you could pass in-and-out of it; much like the hedge, the moat was simply a disguise another portal.
You glanced around, finding that there wasn’t much of a crowd. They must not have held a performance today, you figured.
The gentle, idle hum emitted by the spinning of The Carrousel was a lullaby to your tired ears, enticing you to limp closer. You seated yourself at the ledge of the moat with a fatigued sigh—-your reflection sighed in return. In this world, you looked significantly less exhausted.
You pictured your real-world body, slumbering peacefully in your bed. Then, an onslaught of visuals of what you probably really looked like at home. You remembered the way you unceremoniously limped into your room, too fatigued to care for the open gashes on your knees. Throbbing relentlessly as dirtied blood trickled down your legs… you shook your head, as if it would clear your conscience of the utterly pathetic and disgraceful image you’d conjured.
This is so embarrassing, you finally realized. Why did I even come back for this? Toying with a few scenarios in your mind, you kicked your legs idly, watching the iridescent pool rush just beneath your feet. It’s better than being in the real world—-er, the “Normal World” as Mr. Benzedrine always insists I call it…
Besides, who else do I have…?
It’s not like anyone would come for you in the real world, and you were, evidently, incapable of handling it yourself. So, ignoring the gnawing self-doubt, you closed your eyes and gently coaxed yourself off of the ledge.
You landed in the fluid like a feather floating through air. A warm, weightless presence gently encapsulated your body, the sensation reminiscent of a caring parent affectionately draping a freshly-washed blanket over you. Slowly, you pirouetted down through the portal, keeping your eyes shut and concentrating.
Eventually, your feet felt a wooden trapdoor, which gave with a slight push. Before you could open your eyes, air rushed past your ears, you unceremoniously hit the ground with a smack, but not before a yelp escaped your lips.
The air was practically pummeled out of your lungs, your body caught only by cold granite… you were sure you would never get used to the unpleasant landing.
Where is that dang “Catcher” when you need him?
You laid there for a moment, groaning in response to the overbearing stinging pain shooting through your legs.
A low creak sounded from nearby. “Who was— oh, dear!” A polite voice, filled with concern. Finally. How you’d longed to hear that voice; a lullaby that queued your body to relax into the cool floor, knowing safety was near.