Jasper set out on the path towards the Gate, the middle path. A gate meant escape, or so he rationalised. Perhaps it would be freedom, or at the very least a passage to somewhere a little more recognisable. He had a only just set out on the path, however ,when a feeling of instability swept over him, and he found his feet stumbling beneath him. He tripped, and as he fell the ground opened up before him, the pebbled path folding away at the edges of a growing hole beneath the man. Jasper gave a cry, twisting his body to latch on to something, but it was already too late, and he fell, down and down into blackness.
After a while he came to a stop, his feet landing softly on a mossy carpet at the bottom of the pit.
“That’s odd,” he said to himself. He had half expected his legs to crumple beneath him in a pile of broken bones, but as he had hit the ground it had barely felt like falling at all – more like floating.
“Most things are,” a voice said from the other side of the pit.
“Figures. Even down the bottom of a pit I’m not alone.,” Jasper said.
“Down the bottom of a pit is where you’ll always find me.”
“Okay, I’ll bite. Who are you?” he asked the darkness.
“A boring question. Were you always this boring? Geeze, I’m sure a five year old could write a better question than that.”
“For being trapped down in a pit with me you’re sure quick to criticise.”
“Sure, but just like you, I’m trapped. We’re both trapped. Must’ve both done something stupid.”
“That’s not fair. At least, in my case,” he said, with a mocking grin. “how did you end up down here?”
“Me? I’ve always been down here. Down at the bottom.”
Jasper had been tracing the voice as best he could in the dark, and his eyes had been slowly adjusting all the while. Out of the cloak of darkness, shapes were becoming recognisable. “I see you,” he said.
“I wasn’t hiding,” the voice replied. “But you’d have known that, if you were smart.”
“I don’t like your tone,” Jasper said, rounding on the shape. It was vaguely humanoid. “Almost like you’re trying to…”
The body finally became recognisable, and Jasper recoiled as realisation dawned. “You’re… dead?”
“Not dead,” the voice said. “Just a husk. A shadow of my former glory.” True to his word, the husk was a shell of a human being. The skin had faded and rotted, leaving only stretchy tissue over old bones, like cloth over wood.
Jasper shivered. It was gruesome to look at. “What’s the matter?” the voice said. It’s croaky rasp seemed even more bitter on being discovered. “Never seen a guy down on his luck before?”
Jasper shook his head. “How long have you been down here?”
“About as long as you can imagine, I suspect” the husk said.
“Well, I’m not going to turn out like you. I’m getting out of here.” Jasper said, staring up. Way in the distance a pinprick of light could be seen, like the glow at the end of an impossibly long tunnel.
“So sure of that, huh? Well, I wish you all the best with your effort.”
“Thanks… I think…” Jasper said, warily.
“Y’know,” the husk added, “It is an awful long way up, though.”
Jasper found his way to the wall, feeling around in the darkness.
“Oh yeah? It doesn’t look too hard,” he said. The wall was near vertical, but was covered in nodules and bumps.
“Oh, it isn’t, at first,” the husk said. “Then your arms get tired. Then your legs. Then your mind.”
“Yeah? And then what?”
“Then… you fall… It’s the genius of the hole, you know.”
“What’s that?”
“No matter how far you climb up…” the husk said, “You can always fall straight back down to the bottom.”
Jasper's face turned into a grimace.
“It’s not so bad, when you get used to it.”
“Yeah, I bet.”
“It’s like… falling asleep… slowly,” the husk continued, oblivious as Jasper tested his footing and stretched his arms.
“After all, you never were good enough for this.”
Jasper paused. “You don’t know anything about me,” he said.
“No. But if I ended up like this, what chance do you have?
“I won’t know unless I try.”
“No,” the Husk said. “But it’s almost better, not to know. At least then you don’t feel the guilt of failure. At least then you don’t feel like nothing you do could ever be good enough.”
“Is that how you’ve survived?” Jasper said. “Living in dreams? Dreaming of reaching the top?”
“used to be,” the husk said. “Now sometimes I go weeks. Maybe months without thinking about it. If I try really hard, sometimes I’m flying.”
The husk’s words echoed in the black darkness. Jasper frowned. “You’ve given up entirely.” He said.
“We've all got to accept our limitations sooner or later. How else are we ever going to be happy?”
“And that’s what you are?” Jasper said. “Happy?”
The husk was silent for a while, before it spoke again. “I’m working on it.” He said.
“Let me know how that works out for you,” Jasper said, and with that he took to the wall, gripping and hauling himself upwards.
Climbing in the dark was hard going for Jasper as he clawed and reached in an exploratory fashion. Each movement was made harder by the darkness as he checked and double-checked each potential hand-hold. It didn’t take long before fatigue threatened to overtake him, but as he rose so too did the level of light in the pit. He panted hard as he ascended, looking down at his feet before looking up again for hand holds.
“Come on,” be muttered to himself. “Foot,” he said, glancing down and picking a spot before moving his foot to it. “Hand,” he said, stretching and reaching through the semi-darkness. “Foot,” he repeated, “Hand.”
Jasper’s chant echoed quietly around him as he rose. “Foot. Hand. Foot. Hand. Foot. Hand. Foot. Han-“
Jasper recoiled in surprise as he looked upwards and came face-to-face with a large reptilian eye, surrounded by a scaly skin. The lizard was gigantic – twice the size of Jasper, and as he let out a gasp of shock it turned towards him, opening it’s dry, scaly lips and coiling it’s tongue. It looked almost as if to lash out at him, and Jasper scrabbled against the wall to move out of the way. He lost his footing, missed a grab and cried out as he found himself tumbling back into the abyss. He flew away from the wall, and the light quickly faded once more around him.
“Knew you’d be back,” the husk said.
“You could’ve warned me there were giant lizards to worry about up there!” Jasper said.
“Giant… lizards?” the husk said, amusement in his voice. “Why can’t you just admit you failed?”
“You didn’t know about it?” Jasper said. “How many times did you try climbing up there, anyway?”
“Who ever said I tried?” the husk said, bitterly. “I only said you’d be better off not trying. And I was right.”
“I’m not hurt, am I?” Jasper said.
“Must not have got very high then.”
“I’m not going to listen to you anymore,” Jasper said, resolutely.
“Sure thing, bub,” the husk replied. “I wouldn't worry. Someone will be along to find us sometime soon.”
“Yeah, because waiting around has worked out so well for you so far.”
“You'll fail. That's all there is to it,” the husk said.
“The man who never fails does nothing,” Jasper retorted. “And you, husk, fail by default.” Jasper's fingers gripped the wall tightly again, and he pulled.
“Give my regards to your lizards,” the husk said.
The climb felt harder the second time. Jasper bones still ached from all the climbing he had attempted from the first time, and the mental effort to push himself forward was exhausting. His breaths came in shorter bursts as he ascended from the blackest parts of the pit, but he was drive on – partially by the knowledge of the husk at the bottom, waiting to gloat. Occasionally he'd risk a longer glance upwards, wary for any strange looking eyes or scales, but as far as he could see it was clear.
Onwards and upwards he went, rising slowly into the light, never once risking a glance below. From only a few feet above the bottom the pit's floor was not visible, and from anywhere above the abyss below looked impossibly deep. Jasper focused on rising.
So focused, he was, that he did not notice the figure climbing next to him for some time. When finally his eye chanced to glance over at the scaly figure of the lizard, it came as such a shock he almost once again lost his footing.
Jasper clawed at the wall, clinging for dear life as he paused in his ascent, trying to keep his heart from jumping out of his chest from the shock. The lizard moved completely silently, it's arms finding all the little holes in the wall, and tail swishing quietly behind it, keeping it stable as it scampered up the wall. As Jasper stopped, so to did it, turning it's head to glance questioningly at the human.
“Please don't eat me,” Jasper prayed. He contemplated falling back down into the pit. At least down there he wouldn't end up stuck in some lizard's digestive system... only... he looked curiously at the lizard. This one looked identical to the lizard he had seen on his first ascent, only it was smaller. It was roughly human sized, and as he looked, also human-shaped, save for the tail and fingers.
It turned it's head slowly towards Jasper, letting go of the wall with one arm, and nodding it's blunt forehead towards the human.
For a moment he thought it was pounce and bite at him, but then in a moment of sudden realisation he took the creature's lowered head as an altogether different gesture – that of submission, or respect. He stood there, open-mouthed, gaping at the lizard for a moment.
Even at the depth they were in the lizard's scales shone with the paltry reflected light from the top. They were iridescent, and Jasper looked on at the wild array of greens and blues in wonder. He reached out a hand cautiously, and the lizard crept closer, it's head sneaking underneath Jasper's hand. Jasper let out a little laugh, and a sigh of relief as he petted the lizard's forehead. It was completely tame, and there was some relieved part of him that felt a connection to the beast. He scritched his fingers over the lizard's scales, and it made pleasing rumbling sounds, deep within it's belly.
“Well look at you,” Jasper said. “You're just a big old bundle of cuddles, aren't you?”
The lizard gave a snort, which Jasper took to be a laugh.
“Well, at least I'm not alone anymore.”
The Lizard gave a nod, but then drew it's head away from Jasper, scuttling upwards, above the human.
A few moments ago Jasper had felt like giving up again, but seeing the lizard move with such grace and speed reinvigorated him. He felt inspired, and as he took the next step and made his next grab he felt revitalised. He watched as the lizard above clambered higher still, and felt compelled to chase the scaly beast.
The change in brightness became more noticeable as he ascended. He began to make out the material upon which he was climbing, and as he did so he noticed larger and larger nodules appearing, which both helps and hindered his efforts to climb. Some were large enough to stand on and take a break, but others were tricky to manoeuvre around, and required him to climb down and around, slowing his pace.
He was just about to round a particularly difficult nodule, shaded by the positioning of further bumps in the wall above, when he felt his hand brush something unusual.
There was a deep rumble, and then a groan sounded from above. The lizard's head poked out from over the top of one of the higher nodules, looking down curiously at Jasper, then, all of a sudden, there was a blinding blast of light from the nodule Jasper was currently pressed against. He recoiled in shock, his arm splaying out to find another handhold as other nodules all around him started lighting up, but his hand found nothing but air, and he felt his feet slip free of their purchase on the wall as he tumbled backwards. He tried desperately to see, but all he could see through his eyes were the dancing after-images and a world of colour as the dark was suddenly full of light. He twisted as he tumbled, and fell down back into the blackness of the abyss.
“That's new,” the Husk said, as Jasper felt his feet return to solid ground with the lightest of touch. “You must've broken something.”
“I'll break your fassse in a minute,” Jasper hissed, then clamped his hands over his mouth.
“What was that?” the Husk said. “That didn't sound quite like you.”
“Sssshut up,” Jasper said, then clawed at his mouth. He felt a sudden compulsion and stuck his tongue out, amazed and horrified as he found it could wrap right over the top of his snout on the front of his blunt-head.
“Certainly more hissy than normal, and is that... is that a tail?” the Husk said.
Sure enough, Jasper had sprouted a thick, scaly tail. He flicked it experimentally behind him, and almost overbalanced as his centre of gravity shifted rapidly.
“Well! Looks like you didn't manage to get out of the pit,” the Husk said, with altogether too much glee for Jasper's liking. “But it looks like you've come out completely unscathed. Well, you know, apart from suddenly being a lizard.”
Jasper stared at the Husk with hatred burning in his reptilian eyes. “I may beeesss a lizard now, Husssk,” he snarled, “but I'm sssstill doing better than you.”
“You weren't good at understanding even when you were a human,” the Husk retorted. “No chance now, I suppose. Can't even string a sentence together without a lisp. Went up a man, came down verbally and mentally disabled. And they said trying never hurt anyone. Glad I didn't,” the Husk said.
Jasper looked down at his metamorphosed body, shivering as his blood cooled slowly. His skin had taken the exact appearance of the lizard he had encountered, and he could see better in the dark than he had ever been able to as a human. His tail was long and thick, pointed at the end and his fingers were little more than delicate graspers now – light weight, but clingy. “What have I becomesss?” he said, his tongue flicking up and down as he closed his unfamiliar, gummy mouth.
“This time, you don't even need me to tell you,” the Husk said dismissively.
Jasper walked to the wall and banged his fist against it, tears in his eyes. “All I wanted was to get out, I didn't think it would... that it...”
“That it would be so hard?” the Husk finished for him.
“Yessss,” Jasper said. He was tired. His muscles felt cold and unfamiliar. Twice he had fallen. Twice he had made it so far only to be pushed right back down to the bottom again, and this time he wasn't even half the man he used to be.
“Just accept it,” the Husk said. “We're destined to suffer. Nothing we can do about it.”
Jasper's head fell into his hands and he shuffled against the wall of the pit. Every time he tried, something, somehow ruined it for him. He never seemed to be able to succeed.
“Best just to wait.”
“Wait for whatss?” Jasper said.
“Oblivion,” the Husk responded. “The cold, clear expanse of nothing, that is eternal and forever.” the Husk made a creaking attempt to move, like a skeleton struggling wretchedly to climb from a grave, and managed to raise a pointy, bony finger. “All you get for flying too close to the sun is burnt wings.”
Jasper stared upwards, at that far distant, ever tempting light. It glowed with a serenity unmatched by any light he had ever seen. It radiated an impression of warmth, of comfort, of safety – and most of all, of distance. His heart sank as he watched it twinkle like a star on a black night, but something else was rising within him.
Climb
“No,” Jasper said.
“Hmm?” the Husk said.
Climb
“I tried!” Jasper said.
“Oh great. Now you're talking to yourself. Delirium too. Must be the cold blood. Reptiles need their warmth, you know?” the Husk said, but by this point Jasper wasn't listening.
Climb. Again.
“No, no, no.” Jasper said, clutching at his head.
Obey.
Jasper shivered. It was a voice older than his human one – older than the oldest thing he could remember feeling. It made his bones and body shake, and tentatively he raised a claw to the soft surface of the wall.
Obey. Climb.
It was instinct, he realised, in a far distant part of his mind. It was the drive that prevents animals from giving up, rolling over and dying. It was the impetus behind a billion years of evolution or more. It was the lizard within calling to him.
Climb.
He rose, and his tail flicked out behind him like it had been there since he was born. His hands scampered upwards, and his legs followed, and in moments he lost track as he ascended far beyond the floor.
“Where are you going? What are you doing?” came the Husk's call from below, but Jasper felt his heart beat weakly in his chest, and could not respond. “Rude!” the Husk said.
Jasper's body was faster than he ever could have realised, and as he climbed his energy surged higher, and his sensitive feet found firmer ground. He licked the air with his tongue and found he could taste the warmth from higher up. Gradually he felt the compulsion weaken as his instinct retreated back into the depths of his brain, and conciousness swam drunkenly to the surface in it's place. Still, however, he climbed. At some point he had determined to do it. Perhaps it was the freedom he felt, or the tantalizing taste of progress – whatever the reason, he did not give up.
This time as he reached the glowing, lit-up nodules he was prepared. They had stayed illuminated from when he had first attempted to pass them. Only the larger ones were lit, he noticed, but they shone with an intense brightness that threatened to overwhelm his senses. Instead, he shut his eyes, relying on squinting and feel only as he clambered past them. Their non-uniform shape was tricky, but no match for the agility of the lizard, and as he rose he found his eyes adapting. He risked a pause to take a proper look, and with confusion he took in the sights he could see.
“They're... television screens,” he said.
Sure enough, each nodule that glowed was curved like an old television set, their fronts bulging out like a swollen belly from the wall, and on each of them pictures danced – too fuzzy and colourful for him to make out, but reminiscent of an old VHS video with the brightness too high, or the tape damaged. He looked upwards again, and saw above the same – hundreds, thousands of screens lining the walls of all different shapes. Some lit, some dark, but all packed tightly into the wall – and at the centre of them all, a thin shaft of daylight.
Jasper swallowed, his lips dry, as, he realised, a lizard's probably should be, and he continued his ascent.
Some of the screens hummed as he clambered past – occasionally screeching mutely as their screens filled with fuzz before resetting to their over-exposed images. Try as he might, Jasper simply could not make sense of them, and glancing above, below, and around only made him feel dizzy with the array of light on show. He paused, hoping briefly to see a trace of tail or scale, any sign of his climbing buddy from before, but there was no such sign to be found, and so he did the only thing he felt able to, and continued upwards.
Jasper sat down just below the top. The climb had been long and arduous, and he had seen many strange things along the way. Below him somewhere the Husk stood still, lost in a world without success or failure. A world where action is meaningless and inaction doubly so. He pressed his hands together, marvelling at the way the scales rubbed against one another without ever getting caught or torn. It was like a warm armour which covered his entire body.
“Thanksss, buddy,” he said, letting his tongue roll happily over the s's as he took one last glance into the pit, before turning back to the wall and beginning to climb the last few meters.
In the back of Jasper's mind he had a thought. The thought went as follows: “You couldn't have done it alone,” but rather than, as might be expected, rage or bitterness, or even guilt filling his body, Jasper found a smile rise to his lips. In his mind's eye, he could see the husk above him, blocking his way.
“You couldn't do this at all,” he said, and burst into sunlight.
Jasper panted as he crested the edge of the hole, pulling himself out by hand and leg, clambering over and rolling onto his back, scooting away from the edge of the hole. It was dark, he realized in a moment, and experimentally he grasped the floor around him.
Pebbles. Like the path.
Jasper raised his head, glancing around, and saw by the lamps lining the path he was back on firm ground.
“Phew,” he said. “That was tiring,” then he clasped his hands to his mouth once more. His human mouth. And his human hands.
“I'm back.” he said, with a mix of some parts relief, and some small part regret as well. “Funny... it had felt so right.”
Jasper glanced back towards the hole, only to raise an eyebrow when he found he couldn't see it. The hole he had just climbed out of was nowhere to be found, and only pebbled path in it's place. He reached forward cautiously, fully expecting it to give way at any moment, but all he could feel was the cold, hard, and most importantly, solid pebbles of the path.
Something caught his eye. Buried under some pebbles was a tiny doll, little more than a fingers length in height, and not too much wider. He gave a grin as he recognised the figure. It was a dull brown, like a cloth bag stretched over wooden twigs.
“Made it though, didn't I?” he said to the Husk. It flopped lifelessly in his hands. “I'm going to keep you with me. I'm going to keep you right where I can see you. That way you can watch every single time I prove you wrong.”
Jasper smiled as he got to his feet, pocketing the doll. He glanced up and down the path.
“Now, which way was that gate?”
