[author’s note: there are two narrators, [Uppercase] and [lowercase]. [lowercase], seen here, likes to get a bit whimsical with grammar and prose, and has some nonstandard ideas on what the focus of the story should be. deal with it.]
—==cookies==—
like any great epic, it begins with cookies.
Bree: hurry up. there’s a door.
Bree is a young girl, probably 7 years old. of course, she has no way of knowing her actual age. no one in this House does.
Ellis: yeah one sec, m’girl.
Ellis: DAMN you’re fast.
Ellis, he/him, is probably in his teen years. he scrambles after Bree, unbuttoned flannel flapping about.
the long, narrow hallway is made of green bricks, with a ceiling that is an utterly flat shade of blue, so featureless that it could have been colored with the bucket tool on a drawing app. these two haven’t been here before.
Bree ceases running in front of a submarine-esque metal door.
Bree: this one.
Ellis: got it. let’s check it up.
Ellis catches up to Bree, stops to catch his breath, and places his ear against the cold, humming metal. using his ability, he listens in on what would happen if they crossed the threshold.
Ellis: …
Ellis: yeah, don’t hear nothin.
Ellis: we got a gurglin sound up in there.
Ellis: that room’ll prob’ly eat us or somethin.
Bree: ok. that door.
Ellis: the big scary castle door? dawg…
Ellis: can’t we do, like, that glass one?
Ellis: i see myself a buncha shelves up in it.
Bree: that one.
Ellis: alright, alright.
Ellis: …
Ellis: buncha pancake mix. wanna chow up on some pancakes?
Bree: i want cookies.
Ellis: yeah, same.
Ellis: what we came here for.
Ellis pulls a ticking egg timer from his pocket and checks it. about 18 minutes remain until it rings.
Ellis: k, we gotta be all headin back in like 5 minutes.
Bree: ok. do the glass door.
Ellis: got it, girl.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
Ellis starts toward the inviting sliding glass gateway. he takes one step before the panel explodes outward in a sparkling shower.
a strange monster, a writhing, sinewy mass of equine and canine, erupts through the silica downpour and tackles Ellis.
Ellis: OH SHIT!
the thing’s clawed hooves dig into Ellis’s chest as it lowers its snarling, contradictory head toward the boy.
as Ellis struggles, Bree slowly raises her finger, which glows green. she fires a bolt of emerald energy from the digit, which strikes the beast.
the mutant tenses up and begins to shrivel and shrink, compressing down until it becomes a harmless cockroach. per the rules of Bree’s ability,the monster will live eternally as an insect, unable to forget that it used to ba an unfeeling monster. i’m sure it won’t be long before it begins to miss its pseudolife.
Bree: stand up.
Bree: you’re ok.
Bree: you’re not hurt.
Ellis: yeah, i think i’m good.
Ellis climbs to his feet with a grunt. he’s bleeding from a glass cut on the back of his hand, but this seems to be his only injury. it’s not like these attacks aren’t a daily occurrence. i shouldn’t have dramatized it, because that’s way out of character for me, and also, you don’t care that much about all these monsters. the real juice is in the dialogue, of which there is tragically little in this moment. i’ll do one more paragraph before we get to the Good Shit.
Ellis: alright, i think we better up n head…
Ellis trails off as he eyes the scene through the broken glass door. we don’t see ourselves a buncha shelves up in it. we see a massive warehouse full of aromatic, freshly baked cookies.
i guess that the glass was throwing up some kind of illusion? just like i was when i claimed there would only be one more paragraph? to return to the topic,
Bree and Ellis appear utterly transfixed by the haven of confections. slowly, they wander into the room.
—==—
—==search==—
elsewhere in the House, in a room known to its inhabitants as Couch City, and egg timer rings. eleven children’s activities are interrupted.
Ben: oh shit. they’re not back.
Jen: the cookies aren’t here?
Jen: wait, that was bad, i think.
Jen: they’re ok, right?
Leo: they said they wouldn’t go super far.
Luke: i believe Bree and Ellis are well.
Luke: the two probably just got lost.
Jen: oh, ok.
Duff: my jaw has jackhammered its way through the floor.
Duff: and impulsive, psychopathic child and a pushover teen boy, exploring a sentient, non-Euclidean house in search of a hypothetical room of cookies,
Duff: lost?
Luke: that was a very impressive sentence.
Duff: thank you.
Leo: um… Criss! can you make a card to find them?
Criss: oh, good idea.
Criss: a’ight, let’s see.
Criss: '''a card that flies through the air, leadin’ us to Bree n’ Ellis.'''
Criss(he/him) reaches up the sleeve of his suit, where a magical card should be found, per his power. he retracts his hand a second later, still empty.
Criss: shit.
Malcom: that kind of makes sense though, because too easy.
Malcom: the Old Man wouldn’t like it.
Amy(1): '''because too easy''' explains like everything in our lives.
Callie: damn right it does.
Luke: perhaps someone else could lead us to our friends.
Luke’s ability is ordering objects to do things, but only in an offhand, indirect manner. the paperclips his statement was addressed to remain stubbornly inert in his sweatpant pockets.
Luke: okay.
Luke: i can’t order objects to find them, so we’ll just have to search the House ourselves.
Luke: let’s split into four groups.
—==—
—==WEB==—
meanwhile, Bree and Ellis have become ensnared in the web of a purple sheep with three long, spindly legs.
Ellis thrashes in the sharp, abrasive webs, but only succeeds in adding to his previously small collection of bodily injuries. his flannel is in ribbons, or perhaps scarves. '''in ribbons''' is used a lot. Ellis’s flannel is split like a cotton slinky.
the sheep moos and clacks one of its beaks. there’s a shiverish crinkling sound as it ambles toward the web on its leathery limbs.
Bree: stop.
Bree hangs utterly still. her face is blank, and he stares off through far room of the room.
Bree: it hears you like a spider.
Bree: it wants to kill you.
Ellis: i know, girl, we gotta GIT!
Ellis: you gotta kill it.
Bree: no.
Ellis: but m’girl, we’re up n fucked!
Ellis: why not?
Bree: bad word.
the sheep stops at the base of the web stretching across the corner of the room. the room is full of shelves of cupcakes, which i guess means that the doer was throwing up TWO illusions.
Ellis: sorry girl.
Ellis: i’m just losin—i’m just—
Ellis: i’m freakin up in here!
Ellis: you gotta kill it.
Bree: no.
Ellis: but— bu— WHY!
Bree: it wants to kill us.
Ellis: exactly!
Ellis: it’s tryna kill us down!
Ellis: do you wanna up n get eaten?
Bree: no.
Ellis: then kill it!
Bree: no.
the sheep begins to ascend the web.