Guide book
By David Chamberlain

I awoke in the darkness, no light, no sky, no horizon. No sound, save the ringing in my ears. Suddenly, before me, a small, leather-bound book, the cover blank.

I grabbed it, first fanning the pages from back to front; all blank. When I flipped it back over, the cover showed a small, illuminated heart. It’s pulsing light synchronized to the beating of my own.

I open the first page, there erupts a plane of reality, totally enveloping me. A lush oasis in the middle of a desert. Simultaneously the sky above rolls rapidly to reveal a glorious sunrise.

Each grain of sand seems to have its own individual shimmer as if faceted and cut by hand. The desert is spotted with oases. Strung together like jewels by a small meandering stream. Each one more breathtaking than the last. Majestic mountains beyond the desert in all directions…

I follow the stream.

As I travel, the tiny heart icon tracks across the page of the book. About the time it reaches the X on the end of the page, I find myself standing before a sheer cliff. The escarpment perfectly delineates the edge of the page. There is a small spring feeding the stream. 10 feet above the small pool is a large opening in the cliff-face.

I turn the page…

I find myself inside the grand cavern. My surroundings transformed into glistening cave walls; thick veins of gold run throughout. Speckled with emeralds, rubies, and other precious stones. The cavern continues as I walk. About two-thirds of the way across the page the exit reveals itself. I step up to the opening and find I’m looking down over a lush forest, teeming with wildlife.

I turn the page…

A waterfall from the cliff creates a vivid prismatic display then flows to a small river that disappears into the forest. My first step on the trail startles birds that spring into flight among the towering trees.

The path ahead is open and clear, the terminus is not. I’ve begun to suspect that the journey holds far more value than the destination.

The Road to Wade, Pennsylvania
by Danny Gilhooley

I sieved through the papers again, hoping the one we needed would turn up. It was past dusk. The road swayed through the woods. The trees we drove past stood like towers that pierced the heavens.

I looked to Michael in the driver’s seat. His hands gripped the steering wheel so hard I was afraid he’d break it.

“Maybe if we just—” I started.

“Nick. I don’t want to hear it.”

We’ve driven to our grandparents’ house in Wade, Pennsylvania since we were kids. Halfway through, and always halfway through, the cellphones lost service, so we needed paper maps to get us through. Our dad had hammered that into our skulls.

I looked at the papers again becoming more frustrated with myself. It was my job to pack the maps. I brought a whole map of Pittsburgh but not Wade.

Michael made another turn, and I felt the car slow down. I looked up. Two men stood next to their cars on the side of the road. The cars were caked in rust. One man was looking into the front hood of one of the cars. The other just stared at us.

He looked incredibly thin. I could see the ribs through his shirt before we came to a stop next to them.

Never stop for pedestrians going to Wade. Our dad hammered that point too. I had vivid memories of him almost running over a hitchhiker who tried to stop us.

“I don’t think we have a choice now,” I said.

Michael shook his head. Suddenly, I realized how dark it was overhead. It felt like the road we were on kept going through the woods. Forever.

“First sign of trouble, we’re gone,” Michael said. “Deal?”

I swallowed a knot in my throat. “Deal,” I muttered.

We walked out, leaving the car running. The one man kept staring at us as we walked closer while the other one acted like we weren’t there. Then he reached for something inside the hood.

“Fine night, ain’t it?” the man staring at us said. He started to drool.

Traveler to Timberun
By Claire Golder

The stinging numbness from the icy winter wind on Garin’s exposed face and hands began to finally ebb away as he walked into the warm inn. Though he was tempted to go straight to the fire to bring back the feeling in his hands, he decided to first head to the barkeep and inquire about lodgings. Leaving a small trail of melting ice behind him, he approached the lone bartender, the man only noticing him once he reached the counter. “What can I get for you?” the man asked, giving him a polite smile.
“How much for a room and a warm meal?”
“Both of those together will be a gold and five silver.” Garin quickly handed over the money, the man giving him a knowing smile at his worn, frozen appearance. “Why don’t you go and warm yourself by the fire? I’ll have some food out to you in a minute.” Garin happy obliged, grateful for the chance to finally rest after his several day journey.
Several minutes later the man brought him a bowl of stew and half a loaf of bread, which Garin happily began to scarf down. “So, you must have really wanted to come here, huh?”
“What?” Garin expressed his confusion through a mouthful of bread.
The man pointed to Garin’s arm, the sleeve covering the forearm having been rolled up to get the wet cloth off his skin, exposing the word decorating it. “You’ve got the name of the town tatooed on your arm. ‘Timberun’. I assumed there was a reason.”
“Oh, uh, yeah. Yeah I had family from here,” he awkwardly lied. He was grateful when the man took that answer, walking away to get his room ready. With a sigh, and soon another mouthful of stew, he looked down to his forearm. The word ‘Timberun’ slowly faded away, another soon replacing it as if it had been there the entire time. ‘Freyton’. Well, looks like I know where I’m headed to next, he thought as he finished off his meal. Happy to have a comfortable place to stay, at least for tonight.

Nowhere, Know Where, No Hair
By Cansas Wanderlust (Repost from private)

The wheels of the night bus rattled. City lights buzzed past the window.

A man in a trench coat sat in the back, gazing into space.

“Do you know where this bus is going?” He asked to no one in particular.

A tall man beneath a top hat answered from the seat across. “No. where?”

“He was asking if you know his hare,” said the little girl with a pig’s tail in her hair.

A man wearing the boots of cowboys thought she was talking to him.

“How’m I s’pposed ta know yer hare girl?”

Two rows back a man whose head was bald sighed, “I know, no hair.”

“Why don’t you just wear hair?” A man with circle glass eyes asked.

“I know nowhere that sells hair for no haired heads.”

The man with circle glass eyes smiled, “I know where to find a hair maker who makes hair no where else can make.

The man wearing the boots of cowboys sighed heavily. “I’d never known, no man who wanted some hare on his no haired head.”

The man in the trench coat suddenly shouted, “Does anyone know where this bus is going?”

The tall man beneath the top hat looked over at him. “No. Where?”

The man in the trench coat huffed and walked to the bus driver.

“Do you know where this bus is going? Surly, you must have a map.”

The bus driver gave a soft chuckle and said, “I’ve got no clue where this bus is going, son.”

The man in the trench coat felt his face growing hot with rage. “Can I see the map?”

The bus driver reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

The man in the trench coat grabbed it. When it was unfolded, the map was bigger than he was, and it was completely blank.

“What is this?”

“Why, it’s a map.”

“It’s empty. There’s nothing on it!”

The bus driver looked at him, eyes like the sun. “Then what you should be asking, is do you know where you’re going, son.”

Map to the Boonies
By Atlas (aka Atlas_793)

Maybe it was the four beers, maybe it was the ‘shrooms Hunt gave him a few moments ago, or maybe it was hubris, but Keaton was determined to prove something. No one ever leaves this little boondock just a skip from Clivesdale. Keaton knew that if he wasn’t getting out of this town, he was going to run it. And through the drugs and the beer, he had determined that Tyler Richard’s dad’s ’07 Shelby was how he was going to do it. The keys sat at the end of the kitchen counter under a heap of empty bottles and cans. All he needed was a distraction. Bryce was about six bottles in, and always willing to do that belly jiggle thing from Sandlot. The struggle-shuffle? The truffle-tuggle? Whatever. Bryce was drunk enough to forget he’s essentially a 260lb potato. Keaton drunkenly called out, “Snuffle-thruffle!”

Within moments the big guy’s belly was hanging out and jiggling all over the livingroom. People laughed and cheered as he danced, chanting “Bry! Bry! Bry!” while Keaton took the opportunity to haphazardly snatch the keys from the counter, knocking a few bottles over in the process.

As he raced out the front door to the car, he caught eyes with Tyler.

“Keet!” He shouted after him. But too little too late, with a bound and a tumble Keaton was down the gravel driveway and in the driver’s seat. No sooner was the key in the ignition did Keaton feel momentum pull him to the side. The world was spinning into a twister of colors. White, black, blue, red, and purple. Outside he could hear people shouting “Keet! Keet! Keet!”

Keaton turned and stared with eyes like a deer in headlights at the sheriff. His mouth was wide open, stupidly agape like he was stuck at the front of an announcement. His fingers tightened like vice grips on the steering wheel as his chest pulled towards his heart. He didn’t see his friends or anyone else from the party. Only the officer, the night, and the lights from his father’s cruiser flashing against the house.

Asteroids in Mirror are Closer than They Appear
By Caius Cossades

Curling his toes with considerable effort, the pilot breathed a relieved sigh as the cramps in his muscles eased. Long-haul cargo runs are never easy on the feet. At least for now, he could relax and push the thought of the many light years between his current position and target destination at bay. As luck would have it, the planned route passed not far off from his favorite spot in the quadrant, and he had the time to spare for a wholly unnecessary detour. As the ship coasted amongst the asteroids, his legs swung onto the dashboard, sending the precariously positioned ration wrappers on it tumbling to the floor. With a few nonchalant flicks and twists, he dimmed the interior lights and turned down the arrhythmic humdrum of the ship to sit back and take in the silent expanse on the other side of the hull.

Finally. Solitude.

In some forgotten system, on the outer planes of some M Class, under the shadow of a perfectly inconspicuous gas giant, was a small asteroid cluster he had discovered on accident after a near death experience with a busted drive and too much alcohol. He had almost died then; in the middle of nowhere, completely indistinguishable from the billions of identical systems out there somewhere.

Strangely, that was the one moment in space and time he felt truly alone and at peace. He came back after and charted the entire cluster, the map of which he now closed on the main display as he shut his eyes. Normally, he’d be able to doze off yet this time his mind and gut were uneasy. Something was off about this run. His client was a peculiar character and was oddly paranoid about this shipment. He had been resisting the urge to peek into the containers until his anxieties got the better of him. Wishing to put his mind to rest, he rose just as the dashboard became alive with proximity alerts and weapon signatures. He chuckled nervously to himself. For all the emptiness in the universe, it’s surprisingly difficult to feel truly alone.

Empty Co-ordinates (Tales from Alsuria)
(Repost from Private)
By ThatWeirdFish

Dresden looked at the co-ordinates for the third time. “Are you sure this is where we’re going?”

“Aye.” Said Marx. “It’s what she gave us.”

Dresden cast a glance at their passenger. She stood in the corner of the cockpit, her blaster rifle cradled in her arms. He could feel her stern gaze through the dark visor of her helmet.

“But there is nothing there on the map.” He whispered to Marx as he punched in the co-ordinates.

“I think that’s the point, sonny boy,” Marx whispered back. “Co-ordinates set. Ready for jump speed.” Marx announced as he readied the ship.

The Comet gave her usual complaining routine before gaining speed. With a lurch, the ship entered the jump stream. Time passed in relative silence. Eventually, curiosity pushed Dresden to ask questions.

“So… what’s your name, stranger?”

“… Conor.” She said hesitantly.

“Why do you-hey!” He rubbed the shoulder, where Marx smacked him.

“No questions were part of the deal, sonny boy.” The aging captain gave Conor an apologetic nod.

“I was just trying to make conversation.” Dresden protested. More unbearable silence.

As they eased out of jump space, a massive debris field surrounding an unknown planet appeared before them. Pieces of warships and astroids hung as floating tombstones to the battle’s dead. They coasted, gently dodging obstacles until they reached the co-ordinates.

Conor stepped forward between the two smugglers and stared out the viewport to the planet below. “Land there.” She said.

“Ya sure about that, miss?” Marx asked. “It doesn’t look like none live there.” The nod from her blaster rifle was all the answer he needed.

As they prepared their descent, a large ship suddenly appeared from jump space above them.

“GFV Atlas to transport ship UTCV Comet,” blared a metallic voice through the coms. “Cease your decent and prepare to be boarded. Surrender fugitive 0936 or be terminated.”

Dresden swore sharply. That’s why Conor was secretive- She had an enemy bounty. “Punch it!” Marx snapped.

“Hold on!” Dresden yelled as they dived into the atmosphere.

Light.

Scream.

Crash.

“Welcome…” Conor gasped above Dresden, “to nowhere, kid.”

Alone on an Endless Road
By TheAssassin

A man wearied by walking a long road stopped upon his journey. He looked first to his feet, weathered by his march. He looked then to his clothes, dirtied by his hike. He looked finally around him and found he knew not where he stood.

How long ago did this trek begin, he wondered as the night sky shimmered. He looked to the distant horizon and noticed spears of golden radiance pierce the darkness. First, the man smiled, drinking of the beauty, yet this smile soon faded to the frown he so often wore. How many of these sunrises did he see? How many did he remember? None, he thought. For all the surrounding beauty, he remembered only his aching feet and the dirty road on which he marched.

How many gorgeous sights did he miss as he walked? How long had he walked? He could not remember starting this journey, nor could he even remember why. Where did this road lead and why did he want to arrive?

Suddenly, the man’s heart ached. So much time lost and he couldn’t even remember why. Haunted by the shadow of yesterday, standing before the corpse of tomorrow stilled the man’s once beating heart of today. A suffocating pressure constricting the chest, a void into which all things fall.

The man cried out in agony!

When did tomorrow grow so gloomy? Another day dragging his body across an endless road to a destination he did not know. Another day of throbbing feet, burning legs, and a heavy heart.

Did any even care where he was going? Who in this life loved him? Did he love any? The man could not remember, and this thought crippled him. Did he spend so long walking that he let slip those for whom he cared?

He wanted again to laugh and love; to feel the passions of life. Yet these things seemed so distant.

He was alone, lost on an endless road.

The man wept.

If only someone still walked with me, he thought, then I wouldn’t feel so alone.

If only someone still loved me…

(Repost from Private)

At Some Point, The Pencil Snaps
By PixieWings

Everyday, I wake to the walls.

They’re soft off-beige, calming and bland, and there’s a radio speaker in one corner where they join, but no door.

“Do something,” says the voice over the speaker.

I used to draw.

I would take my pad and my pencil and sit, hours on end, running one over the other. Sometimes the lines were broad and fast. Other times they were slow, detailed meticulously to perfection. The motion and the making. This is what I’d spend my life on, I’d say.

I did.

For a while.

At some point the pencil snapped.

“Do something else,” says the voice over the speaker.

I used to play.

The stringed ones were my favorite. The sharp, pleasant sting of the wire against my fingers. The vibrant twangs they would make. The noise made me nervous, as if I would be caught, but there was a thrill in being too loud, in being noticed. This time for sure, I’d say to myself.

I did.

But the sound faded.

Now it’s quiet.

“Do something,” says the voice over the speaker, “or this is all you will have.”

I used to write.

I would grab the things I knew from inside, and they would flood the page. Things I remembered, but different. Things I had felt, but not quite. There was a power in that. A reinvention of myself. I knew it, I’d say, I had always known.

I did.

But I hadn’t known anything.

Now even the words are gone.

“You have to begin,” says the voice over the speaker.

Today, I connect the dots. I place a pinprick of ink on the floor. Then I trace a line to the next one. And then the next. It’s easy. It feels good.

But they don’t make a picture.

“Do something with your life,” says the voice over the speaker. “Do anything.”

So I trace another line.

No Ruby Slippers Necessary
C. M. Weller

“I’m headed out,” I said, grabbing my essentials.

“Where are you going?” said Ma.

“Nowhere.”

“In that case, you’ll need this.” Ma handed a folded piece of paper. Great. A Honeydew list.

I opened it and found it blank.

“You’ll need a map if you’re going nowhere,” she grinned.

I was already halfway out the door, so I tucked it into my purse rather than litter. “Hardy har har.” I had planned to toss it or use it, whichever happened at the time, but I never got to do that. I turned a corner into another world.

Think… Alice in Wonderland meets Sandman meets the golden age of psychedelia. With no ruby slippers or friends to make along the way. At least, not in the beginning.

I’m not into the drug scene, so my first thought was a dream. I turned around to go back to reality, but reality wasn’t there any more. Okay. Fine. Dream logic means check the ‘map’.

What do you know, there was an X in the middle, and a big arrow and friendly letters that said, YOU ARE HERE.

There was a distant X in a corner with the friendly legend, EGRESS.

It wasn’t as easy as it seemed. Nothing ever is. Over the course of an adventure and -yes- the friends I made along the way, I learned that this was another realm I could access at will. It’s also the source of my power.

When I finally got back home, there was only one way to react. “Ma! What the flying HECK?”

Honestly, there are worse ways to find out you’ve inherited a legacy of mythos and magic. I just can’t think of any right now.

In Nowhere
By: VeryBoringName

He edged forwards, a sheet of blank paper before him, he was asking himself in his mind, constantly, why did he trust that map, it’s no guardian angel, nor a treasure map, and now, with every step even more of it was erased.

He locked up from the map suspiciously, he could see the cliff edge before him, was that truly the end of his journey, an unthinking suicide as dictated by that map, no, it couldn’t, he walked for years not to find despair and suicide.

He looked back onto the map, now only a couple of barely visible lines could be seen, a line with a destination at the end, a mark indicating a cliff, no, he would not waste his life, even though the map took years, blood and sweat, he would not give it this final victory.

He turned back, for the first time in his journey, only to be greeted with nothing, not the arid and scorched desert he just traversed, nor a wall of darkness he couldn’t hope to scale, just nothing, plain nothing.

For a second he thought, maybe he wasted his life, but no, couldn’t be, it wasn’t a light at the end of a tunnel, nor a bleak and dull void, it was simply nothing, incomprehensible nothingness. He took a step back, horrified at the prospect of this cliff’s edge, and him being the only thing in the world.

He turned away from the nothing, and towards the cliff, it was still there, he looked at the map again, it beckoned to the end of the journey, he didn’t want to end it, not like this, however, there was no other way.

He took a step forwards, fully expecting to fall, his foot found, nothing, not ground nor air nor water, he stood on nothing, there was nothing, except him, suddenly a booming voice spoke from every side and direction, though he was unsure if such thing as directions existed still

“Welcome to Nowhere, the grand prize of nothing”

Hello Darkness My Old Friend
By Marx

“I… understand…” Teriana mumbled, dropping her head.

“I don’t.” Mara growled in frustration. “I think its reckless and you’re going to get yourself killed.”

“I just…” Laila sighed in defeat. “I don’t think you realize how dangerous this is…”

“Of course I do.” Matt grumbled. “Alex needs to be stopped and I can’t go after him directly anymore. I have to try every avenue.”

His familiars gave a look of mutual resignation and remained silent. His mind was made up. Matt hated worrying them like this but he wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t necessary.

Truthfully, this would be the first time Matt had gone there on purpose. He’d previously felt the pull when he tried to bring back Lynette and he actually went there when he tried to bring back his father. He could do this. He closed his eyes and focused on it.

The cold.

The emptiness.

The lifelessness.

And that was when it triggered in him. It wasn’t just some endless empty void. It was the absence of life. It wasn’t merely her realm. It was HER.

That comprehension alone allowed him access. But there was a wall. She didn’t want him there this time. Technically, she didn’t want him there the other times either but they were going to talk if he had to punch through this damn wall. He didn’t care how powerful she was. She was going to see him.

He could almost hear her exasperation as he forced his way through. He looked around. It was as he remembered. An empty blackness going on into infinity. He’d made it.

“Yes. You made it.” Her voice echoed from every direction. “And as far as your familiars can sense, you’re dead. Body and soul gone. You’re scaring them. Go home. I’m busy.”

Matt rolled his eyes. “They’ll be fine. Also, you’re Death. You’re always busy. We need to talk.”

Death suddenly appeared in front of him. Her eyes glowed with overwhelming power, dramatically lighting her features and more importantly, showing that she was glaring. “You do NOT want to ‘talk’. You want a favor.”

The Cartographer (Forsaken Universe)
By Alex Nightingale (aka Spectre)

“Come on you stupid thing. Work.”

Newton was lying on his back on the cold hard floor of the bridge of the Fugere, trying to come to grips with the mass of cables in front of him. He fumbled around with several lose pieces of metal, without making much headway. His bandaged hand, where he’d cut himself on a shard of glass, throbbed.

Tears began to form in his eyes. Some were out of frustration. Others out of grief.

He wanted to go through the names of everyone they’d lost, but he didn’t know them all. So, he recited the names of the survivors instead. Precious few they were.

The tool he was holding slipped from his fingers. He cursed, held all the cables in one hand and bent down to try and reach it.

“Ah!”

A jolt shot through him, as his finger touched an exposed piece of copper wire. The ordered mess he had been holding a second ago fell lose, as he lost his grip. He let out a cry of frustration and got up.

Back to square one.

He looked at the screen in front of him, which was supposed to display a star chart. It flickered, refusing to focus. This was pointless. He was a navigator, not an engineer. He didn’t know anything about machinery.

But they were relying on him, even if he was only a cadet, like the rest of the survivors. They were at the fringes of known space and a partial map was better than nothing. Newton reached down and tried to find the cables he needed. His tool fell from his fingers again.

“Useless piece of junk,” he shouted at his fingers. “Work!”

Frustrated, he slammed his hand onto the console. He screamed, as his stitches tore. The already damaged screen cracked. The image was replaced by incomprehensible spirals of colour.

“Shit. No, no, no.”

He wanted to fix the damage, but didn’t know where to start. His face grew hot with shame, as he activated the intercom.

“Jade? Do you have a moment? I could use some help.”

Clue After Clue (Novus Academia)
By Connor A.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Eleanor motioned towards the graveyard.

Jason zipped up his jacket as the cold wind picked up. “Unless you have any other ideas of what our mystery writer meant by, ‘Obtain the denizen from Nowhere.’” He walked in, shortly followed by his taller friend.

“If this is what it means,” Eleanor whispered, “they could have said, ‘Hey kids, let’s go grave-robbing!’”

Jason shrugged. “It’s full of weirdly written instructions. Like—” He pulled out the note from his pocket and unfolded it. “‘The mourners’ and lovers’ choices shall suffice.’”

“This guy would be an insufferable cooking channel host.”

“My favorite is the fancy version of, ‘If you can’t get human blood, cow blood is fine.’”

Eleanor stared at Jason. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

Jason looked back down on a note and used a dramatic voice, “‘The life tears of fellow man are strong, but even that of cattle will be welcomed.’”

“…If we meet the guy who made this spell, I need you to let me punch them.”

The two talked and laughed at the other odd phrases in the note. They stopped when they saw an open grave. Curious, they made their way over and looked at the engraving.

“Nemo Dakkar. May he still have incredible journeys.”

Jason and Eleanor looked at each other.

“At least it’s thematic,” Jason said. He knelt down and looked inside the hole for any clues. Another piece of paper caught his eye, and he leaned forward to get a closer look.

He fell face first into the hole with a resounding, “Fuck!”

Eleanor clutched her sides as she held back her laughs.

“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” Jason raised his voice to be heard. “Now get me out.”

She took a few deep breaths before reaching in and pulling Jason out of the hole. “Whatcha got there?”

He looked at the new paper and squinted. “Something… in another language. That isn’t Irish.”

“To Avi?”

Jason pulled a rock out of his hair. “To Avi.”