Turning my head, I find two young men on their posteriors who appear to be somewhere in their early twenties. They both have short hair, one with blond and the other with brown; however, both sets of hair seem overly styled and shiny. Each wears a similar shirt that runs around halfway down their arms with crude drawings and words. One wears a shirt with a big red heart with “NY” scribbled in the center, while the other wears one that says “Richard and Marky” with two poorly drawn people on it. The brown-haired man vaguely resembles the character Marky, but the blond-haired man does not resemble Richard in any way. Still, I cannot help but associate them with the odd and crudely drawn figures.

They sit near a ‘ride’ with an open carriage door. Their eyes are wide, their mouths agape, and white vapor leaks from their throat as they breathe into what is apparently the cold night air. Like the heat of the fire a day or two prior when I was threatened by the Bishop, I seem to not be very sensitive to cold either.

In the meantime, I am lying upon the ground, legless and utterly unsure how to react. ‘I do not know what to do… ’

My gaze turns toward the tree line, simply judging distance, I would say it is around one-hundred-twenty feet from me.

“W-what the hell is it...” the brown-haired man, Marky, squeezes out in a low, dry voice.

I look at the man and make an awkward motion at the two causing them to yelp and kick the ground to force themselves further away.

‘They both look so… delicious.’ The cattail lifts from the ground on instinct. Yet just before it slithers toward the two, I consciously stop it. ‘Nay! What am I thinking; I need to resume fleeing!’

Recognizing that their emotions are near a breaking point and my hunger might cause an accident, I turn my head to take in the area and gather my bearings. These two men seem to be the only ones hereabouts, excluding a few ‘rides’ illuminating their path as they leisurely move by. The clouds above are low in the sky; with my new vision, they take on a purple hue, but I can still discern that they are dark, flat, and continuous. I recognize these kinds of clouds instantly as the type that appears just before a substantial snowstorm. All around me are towers that reach so high that I cannot see their tops. With the wretched rat beneath and this alien landscape surrounding me, every fiber of my being just wants to find somewhere familiar to hide.

‘Perhaps I could move without legs? But it would feel very awkward… Regardless, they have nearly returned! Verily, am I going to make it!?’

The haze around my arms and torso redistribute themselves giving me my legs back.

When I stand, the pair of men shriek with such high voices; I fear they may further crack the glass-like shell. Taking one final look at the two young men to confirm it was truly a person that had made such a high noise, I turn to run toward what I hope will be my sanctuary.

“W-what? Yo, where is it going?” Behind me, I can hear Marky remarking, “...S-should we follow it?”

“Are you off your trolley? I don’t bloody care where that thing is going,” the blond-haired man, Richard, promptly replies.

‘That gentleman has the oddest accent I have ever heard; nothing like we had in London. More importantly…!’

Using the cattail’s tendrils, I lift a piece of stone that was earlier ripped from the ground by the wretched rat. I toss the stone toward the two men, indicating I do not wish them to follow me. When the pebble casually bounces against the ground, causing the two to jump up and back away.

Pleased, I maintain my race toward the trees, soon arriving at an area where the gray stone path rounds a corner to my right. Halting, I try to get my bearings before risking yet another attack from the rides.

Hearing a commotion to my left, my head swings in that direction. In the distance, I am surprised to see a substantial gathering of people crowding what seems to be a church. With my Perception, I seem to be able to hear and see them rather clearly.

With angry expressions, they appear to be casting what resembles dolls with their stuffing cut out at the church, chanting, “““Not your church! Not a religion!”””

A voice that seems to originate from somewhere in the church responds, “This church was formally and lawfully purchased by Hex Church. We hope you can understand that we, like you and your Church in Light, also deserve a house of worship.”

‘Hex Church. That is the Bishop’s church!’

“This is a historical church!” a woman yells, hurling the stuffing of a doll, “This isn’t a place for heretical worship by some criminal cult! You should all be in jail!”

“As we have said in the past, we are not associated with the criminal organization, known as the Galtry Family.”

“Liar!” an aged gentleman barks back, “You’re all in cahoots with that damnable harpy harlot!”

The chanting recommences with renewed vigor, “““Not your church! Not a religion!”””

‘I cannot allow myself to be noticed by such a big group of noisy people!’

I swing my hazy head to the right, finding everything is empty. Tall lanterns illuminate the black path that the rides seem to follow, but I do not see any rides themselves. Not noticing any ‘rides’ approaching, I commence rushing onward, focusing on a picture of a glowing red hand, which appears to be the shortest route.

If a person from London knew I was running toward a glowing red hand, they would believe I had gone mad, but the bright red hand is nowhere near the oddest thing I have come across.

Just as I am about to arrive at the other side, a single blinding light illuminates my body, causing me to freeze. A shrill noise echoes as the light moves ever closer before something strikes the right half of my body. It barely misses the shell but succeeds in removing a small part of my arm and hip.

‘Attacked yet again!? Disregard it! Just keep moving!’

Simultaneously, the metallic sound of something scraping against stone cuts through the air as I regain my composure and resume my dash toward the tree line.

Arriving, I climb over a short wall, running to the closest set of hedges. With my body constructed of haze, I find it astonishingly easy to enter the thick hedges.

‘As long as the shell may conceal itself, I pray the haze will not be an issue. ‘

Curiosity and concern manage to get the best of me as I lower myself and peer through the leaves to see whatever it was that had struck me. There I see a young man wearing some type of black helmet that only covers the top of his head. He stands over something that almost looks like a two-wheeled plough, except the wheels, seem to be placed in a line at the back and front.

‘Could it be a smaller ‘ride’ possibly?’

My gaze turns toward the chanting crowd, where a few people seem to have heard the commotion. They look as if they are contemplating assisting the man, but first, two other men run to his aid that I recognize as Richard and Marky from a moment ago. However, they now wear thick coats that I assume they had stored in their ride.

‘It seems they followed me despite my effort to dissuade them.’

“Ah, man! My scooter! What was that thing!? I thought it was a person!” the young man shouts angrily. “And what’s all this black smoke everywhere.”

The young man waves his hands around to disperse the black haze around him.

“Yo! You actually hit that thing. Man, you probably shouldn’t be breathing that stuff in...” Marky says.

“That thing? What thi—” the young man abruptly ceases speaking mid-sentence. His head slumps over as he gazes at the ground.

“You alright, mate, you look a bit wonky? Your eyes seem a bit red.” Richard asks, showing some caution at the young man’s odd behavior.

Realizing what is happening, I yell out in my mind, ‘Get away from him! He is about to turn extremely aggressive!’ But my inner shouts obviously accomplish naught.

The once stationary young man’s head shoots upwards and shrieks like a man burning alive.

“What the shit!”

The now shrieking man dashes toward the dumbfounded pair of Richard and Marky, shouting obscenities I nary imagined existed. He pounces on Richard, causing them to tumble to the ground. At the last moment, Richard raises his forearm and throws it against his throat. The shrieking man’s teeth clack together noisily as Richard seems wholly unable to comprehend his current predicament. Powerless to reach Richard, the shrieking man attempts to scratch at his face. Richard grabs one of the shrieking man’s wrists. Yet, with his forearm currently being used to prevent himself from being bitten, he can only shut his eyes and turn away as the shrieking man claws at him with his other hand.

“Get off him!” Marky screams.

Belatedly, coming out of his stupor, Marky acts. First, he seizes the hand being used to claw at Richard ending his assault. The shrieking man cries louder and kicks at Marky. However, it quickly becomes apparent Marky seems to be much tougher. Marky manages to get both his arms under the shrieking man’s armpit and then places his palms behind his head. He yanks the shrieking man from the ground, prompting the shrieking man’s arms to rise straight into the air.

“I’ve got him in a full nelson, bro,” Marky shouts, “Now hurry and call the goddamn cops!”

“Y-yeah, just keep holding that looney,” Richard stutters, wiping some blood from his face onto his jacket.

Richard removes an item that I do not recognize from a pocket sewn into his blue trousers. He pokes it three times before putting it to his ear.

“We need some help here; this bloke is demented!” Richard pauses, glancing at the shrieking man, resuming his words, “Honestly, he might be poisoned or something! Send help, and we probably need an EMT as well!”

‘Did the haze affect him also!? He is yelling into a black rectangle!’

I hear the sound of hasty footsteps. My gaze shifts and I can see a group of people running this way from the church.

‘I should leave immediately. As long as those people can keep the young man restrained, he should eventually regain his wits. The same is true for Richard as well. My apologies! I pray he does not catch a disease from the haze. It will take some time for his humours [1] to recover!’

I run into the forest just as a cacophony of noises blares, followed by blinding flashes of blue and red lights in the distance. With little understanding of this place and a situation that seems to be escalating, I beat back my desire to observe, deciding caution is the better part of curiosity.