(text-size:2)[''ALLEGORY OF THE CAVE'']
//a spite-induced mad dash of fiction about a man, his moth, and the unbearable brightness of reality//
[[CHAPTER I: THE DEEP DARK FOREST]]''//Run, Miles, run.//''
That was the single mantra that had been pushing the man to keep riding. His hands //burned// from holding the bar handles in a death grip. Blood poured out from his head- A wrong turn (not like he knew which way to go) and an incident with some rocks.
It was strange, though. Only rocks. He'd only encountered rocks and branches. Nothing else.
No mystical cryptids. No cultists. He'd heard endless stories of them from people inside the Zone, but he did have to wonder.
His wondering would soon end.
(click:"His wondering would soon end.")[It had been... He didn't know how long it had been. He hadn't taken the time to stop and turn his NIC back on. He didn't want to get caught.
But, soon enough, he got through.
He made it to the other side of the forest.
And he felt... Well, it wasn't exactly... He didn't feel sad. For those that had been left behind, for those that he had lost.
He didn't feel remorse.
All that he felt as the trees stopped was (text-colour:#e5dcdc)[pure] (text-colour:#c86f6f)[unbridled] (text-colour:#cb0606)[rage].]
(click:"rage")[He continued to drive. He drove and drove and drove, now filled with a purpose. A determination.
//Do not stop moving until you find a place to scream.//]
(click:"scream")[It was a rather quaint place. A rest stop on the side of the road, about to close up for the night. He'd asked the employees if he could take a minute to fuel his bike.
He got off the bike for the first time in hours.
Words are not strong enough to image what came out of his mouth. But we shall try regardless.]
(click:"regardless")[It started with a sort of strange sobbing whimper. He felt hurt. Betrayed. He'd been told that he'd //die// there, cursed for reasons out of his control. A bad roll of the dice.
And yet. Here he was. At a gas station somewhere in the state of Washington, with just over a year's worth of pent up rage at a system releasing in one pressurized burst of wounded pride.
He screamed until his throat gave out.
Managed the courage to ask for some snacks for the road, and for the nearest hotel and it's directions.
His directive had changed from "try to find a place to stay" to "find someone who'll recognize you". Someone to share the pain with.]