the crossroads

the moss seems to rise and fall, like a heaving chest- like it’s tired and simply taking a moment to catch its breath.

you've tried scratching at the itch at the base of your neck. at the dip of your collarbone. at the curve of your hip. you think they might be her’s.

the woman you see in the mirror. blurry and out of focus. like an old tv. tucked behind your shoulder. watching you with eyes that sometimes remind you of your mother’s. then your own. then they’re unfamiliar. sunken into her head like your feet in the mud after a long rain.

you’d hated it at first, but now she visits so often that she can almost be considered your roommate. but you still aren’t fond of the itching and buzzing. or the blood dripping from the walls when you drift to sleep. or the feeling of paralysis when you open your eyes every morning.

there’s markings on the trees. they kind of look like stick figures. weird.

your whisper reaches the ears of something.

[ not all and not always. the mossy man and the church grim are generally good-natured, but should you treat either with disrespect, they may act accordingly. the field stalker is, and has always been, hungry. it sees none as friend nor foe. it hungers and it will eat whenever and whatever it wishes. the lurcher is in all ways a malevolent creature. it seeks fear. be careful which you gift.

your presence is very much welcome at the crossroads. ]

the mossy man sees you

the field stalker is not within range

the church grim is not within range

the lurcher is not within range

the grim stands in the chancel, behind the altar. he observes you. silently. unmoving. but listening.

“the note is acknowledged.”

your shout also reaches the ears of something else.

[ and appreciated. crows are lovely creatures. so intelligent. so curious. the grim welcomes them, for the most part. they are seen as symbols of transformation- change. something the grim cannot understand. but he desires to learn.

your presence is very much welcome at the crossroads. ]

the church grim is with you

the mossy man hears you

the field stalker is not within range

the lurcher is not within range

I'm still not that good yet but the crossroads have inspired me

I hope the field stalker doesn't get upset at this

the field seems to shudder. like goosebumps across skin in cold weather.

your whisper reaches the ears of something.

[ a lovely rendition of the stalker! your work is wonderful, dear friend. continue your craft, please, for it is something to be proud of. the field stalker will certainly adore it.

your presence is very much welcome at the crossroads. ]

the field stalker sees you

the mossy man hears you

the church grim is not within range

the lurcher is not within range

something breathes behind you. above you. it undulates. then disappears.

your whisper reaches the ears of something.

[ the answer is so very uncertain. but things will be okay. in time.

your presence is very much welcome at the crossroads. ]

the mossy man hears you

the field stalker is not within range

the church grim is not within range

the lurcher is not within range

a candle in a window of the church ignites itself. but that isn’t what concerns you. the eerie red eyes beyond the pitch blackness of the building are what make the hairs on your neck stand on end.

your whisper reaches the ears of something.

[ any and all art is always welcome. it is so interesting to see how each creature exists differently in so many minds. if you so desire, share it with the moss!

your presence is very much welcome at the crossroads. ]

the church grim sees you.

the mossy man hears you.

the field stalker is not within range.

the lurcher is not within range.

your legs do the same. as you stand at the very epicenter. you feel like you’re everywhere and nowhere at once. traveling the cosmos. earthbound. here. there.

you cry out and it echoes back. in a different voice. familiar. it sounds and feels nostalgic. like tree shade on summer days and lamplight on winter nights.

the howling has stopped and you’ve reached the gas station. there’s a handprint on the glass door.

your whisper reaches the ears of something.

[ the sentiment is shared. times have been turbulent. as though there is something beyond that continues to shift and change. turning the tides. things have been altered for many. beginnings and ends. but change is good. do not fear it.

your presence is very much welcome at the crossroads. ]

the mossy man hears you

the field stalker hears you

the church grim hears you

the lurcher hears you

whether it be the wind, or a beast, you cannot tell.

but it is a sound.

and it makes the ache in your stomach a little less unbearable.

you follow the noise.

hopefully it will lead you somewhere safe.

eerily so.

it’s never been quite so hushed before.

it shouldn’t be.

but it is.

it almost looks like the vines are trying to spell something out for you. but you aren’t sure what.

your whisper reaches the ears of something.

[ to be trapped somewhere in your mind, is a difficult thing to escape. it is one thing to find freedom from a physical place, but it is entirely another to truly leave. but there is the moment that you are able to tell yourself that you are finally safe. when that door isn’t locked like it used to be. you will reach it.

your presence is very much welcome at the crossroads. ]

the mossy man sees you

the field stalker is not within range

the church grim is not within range

the lurcher is not within range

rain falls gently around you. it kisses your skin and the moss at your feet

it takes a moment, but your whisper reaches the ears of something.

[ the light has gazed over the horizon. the rain has begun. the snow has started to melt and finally, things feel better. the beings rested well during the harsh winter. they eagerly await something. but the blankets are certainly welcome!

your presence is very much welcome at the crossroads. ]

the mossy man hears you

the field stalker hears you

the church grim hears you

the lurcher hears you

your voice doesn’t echo. it should. you should hear it reverberate through the trees. but it doesn’t.

it takes a moment, but your whisper reaches the ears of something.

[ things have been particularly difficult to deal with as of late. sluggish. tiring. it is growing cold. and the cold brings the weight of the world with it.

your presence is very much welcome at the crossroads. ]

• the mossy man hears you

• the field stalker is not within range

• the church grim is not within range

• the lurcher is not within range