I guess I'll do this. Went over to my friend's house that passed away. Helping his wife with some things around the house. Stuff he was responsible for normally. I looked down the stairs and saw a large square of the carpet had been removed. That's where he fell. I didn't ask about it, but I assume if they removed the carpet, he must have bled out. Or something equally bad. It sucks. I don't think I want to talk about this. I'll just do some random stuff. Just do my normal free write. Let's see... I started walking. Down a dark alleyway. Those old-school alleys, where they used to put the garbage before they started putting them on the street instead. The ones behind old homes in Detroit and such. But nobody really uses the alleys anymore, so they've become overgrown and barely passable. But I walk down it anyway, picking my way through mulberry bushes and random, straggly trees. Some junk here. Old furniture and random appliances. All rotted and rusted. The rats scurry about, unused to being disturbed. I wander through, thinking I should have brought a machete or something. I can still get through, but it's slow. Looking for a place. Not a real place, a place. A place to hide. A place to get away. The Place. Where I can be outside of reality. Where I can be something else. There's always a place, but you have to look for it. Sometimes it's behind things you don't want to go through. It's always hidden away. This alley is such a location. The place must be here somewhere. I keep going. How long is an alley? Typically just until the next street. I pass old garages with the siding rotting and some of it torn away. I can peek into some and see stuff stored inside. Junk. Cars. Snow shovels. Just stuff. The backs of houses beyond overgrown yards. Some abandoned, some lived in. I can't hear people, but I can hear traffic on the road. I keep going through the alley. There's not much here. Maybe the place isn't in the alley. Maybe it's in the next? When I get to the road, I'll try another. Should find the road soon. Although, now that I think of it, I should have gotten there already. Alley is only a block or so. Strange. I continue on, stepping over the twisted remains of a cyclone fence. Someone had blocked off this part of the alleyway once, made it part of their yard, but the fence was crushed by a fallen branch from a tree. I go through, tripping over twisted old wild grapevines. I hope they're grapevines and not poison ivy. No matter. I'm usually pretty resistant to poison ivy. Just have to be careful who I come in contact with. They might not be. I go past a rusted hot water tank. Easier to throw it behind your garage than to get rid of it, I suppose. I keep on keeping on. And still, I haven't gotten to the road yet. Push on. Push on. I'm not thinking much anymore. Not noticing much anymore. I'm tired. Annoyed. Getting nowhere fast. I realize I haven't passed a garage in a while. That's not too unusual. Many garages here have been torn down. But I don't see the backs of houses anymore either. No more rusted junk. No more traffic noise. Just wild and untamed nothingness. Trees strangled by twisted vines, and the barely visible hint of where a gravel alley once ran under my feet. I push through, and the vines fall away as I enter a clearing. I enter the sun and grass. It's quiet. There's nothing in this clearing but an ancient, iron chair with a sawn-off stump next to it to serve as a table. On the stump is a mug with hot tea steaming within. I settle into the chair and breathe a sigh. Take a sip of tea and close my eyes.
I have found the Place.
