TWELWETH - The enchanted place

He was breathing deeply and heavily, struggling for air, panting and grunting like a fish on dry land. This time, the "transfer" didn't go well. This time, his "transfer" nearly killed him. He was lying on the soft ground, but he couldn't see where he was. He was blind. He couldn't even feel his own tongue, and his arms and legs weren't listening to him. He could barely feel the ground beneath his body, soft and pliable, the ground swallowing him up, like deep, soft mud. He didn't know where he was, he didn't know if the blindness, the inability to speak and the loss of limbs were temporary or permanent, and he was terrified. Now he was truly terrified. There was no way he was allowed to perform the "transferring" in this place, he realized that as soon as the process started and as soon as he realized that he had suddenly gone blind. Panicked, he reached with his hand towards his eyes and felt the empty sockets. An icy wave of panic washed over him as he realized what he had done.

He didn't want to leave Mariana alone in this place, nor did he want to leave Pope, Dick and Jasmine. Nor Sergei, if Sergei exists. But at one moment he felt so helpless that he dared to haughtily abuse his unusual talent in this place. He dared to play with his body and the laws of nature. He was immediately punished. He was convincing himself that he would try, in any way, to take Mariana with him during the "transfer", at least to get the two of them out of this place, so they would be able to organize a real, professional search for the others.

He was disappearing fast, but not fast enough. Something about this place was pulling him back, too hard, and the fading started too slowly. He reached for Mariana, but he had no more hands. They disappeared, right after the eyes. He wanted to shout, to warn Mariana, to tell her that he was sorry, that he wanted to take her to run away from here together, but that something had gone very badly and that he didn't dare to do it anymore, because by doing so he could killed her. Just like he was killing himself. Before he could say anything to her, he realized that he couldn't talk. With the scrap of his tongue that was left, he tried to say something, anything, to the girl whose head rested sadly on the steering wheel, to the girl who somehow loved him and didn't realize that he was a terrible freak. When he heard her scream, he knew that she saw him. She saw him disappear, piece by piece, and the sight must have been awful. This time, he suddenly realized, he might as well die during his own "transfer" attempt. If his heart or brain fails long enough before the rest of his body, he will die. He will die in an instant if the brain disappears before the rest even just a little longer than it has to without blood and oxygen. He was not becoming invisible, he knew that now, and he sensed that before. He was physically transferring his body part by part to another place, and he assumed, to another time. Usually this process took only the blink of an eye, but now it was taking too long. Without blood supply, independent as it is, his eyes will shut down. His hands will dry up. What will happen if the liver, lungs, brain disappear next? What will happen to the rest of the body? He had never been so terrified in his life and the pain was immense. He had a certain comfort that kept him sane. First of all, for not taking Mariana with him. Because this might kill her. Then, he always knew that this "transferring" would kill him one day. He knew that and had been preparing for that for years.

On the other hand, he wasn't ready to die yet, he didn't want to leave his friends from the band and Mariana, and not to leave them and Jasmine in this place. But he didn't know that death from "transferring" would be this horrible, this destructive and painful. He was squirming in pain in attempt to scream, to come back, to stop the disappearing process. He heard Mariana screaming but couldn't do anything about it. He tried to tell her that he always disappeared like that and that he would always came back. He tried to tell her that he wanted to take her with him, that he just wanted to help them get out of here and now he was afraid that he made a terrible mistake. That this time when he disappears he would never return. And there will be no mystery. His body will not become immaterial, nor will he transfer to another world, to another mode of existence. Simply, without circulation, his organs will fail and he will die, quite logically and without any fantastic mystery. He will die and his body will rot somewhere, who knows where.

He couldn't feel his legs anymore. Then he finally calmed down, realizing that he was really going to die. He wanted to tell Mariana that he was sorry, to tell everyone he had ever loved that he was sorry, but in that moment, compassionately, in a flash, he disappeared entirely.

He didn't die. He did not die, but his limbs were numb and he could hardly feel them. He was blind, his tongue was numb and heavy, and his heart was beating as if it would burst out of his chest. He was lying there, feeling his body shiver from the cold, and the darkness would not go away. It shouldn't have ended like this at all. He had much more romantic ideas about his destiny. He expected one day his body would disappear, and that would be ok, because it would have some magic, some refinement, it would carry a mystery of his destiny. Lying blind, stiff and numb, and being paralyzed somewhere in the mud was by no means one of his imagined consequences of transferring. As time passed, he slowly began to despair. He wanted to scream for help, to run away, to run anywhere, but he couldn't do any of that.

First thing he began to feel were his legs. As the blood flow in them was slowly getting restored, he first felt a burning sensation and then a very painful and unpleasant tingling in his entire legs, up to his thighs. The pain was terrible, but Bentley enjoyed that pain like nothing he ever enjoyed in his life. He laughed and cried at the same time, as much as his stiff tongue would allow. He could move his legs. He was happy. Next came the tongue, mouth, throat. It hurt so much that he threw up on the grass, but at the same time he started to feel his hands. His sight was the last to return, and surprisingly, it hurt the least. Perhaps because he was in almost complete darkness, he hardly even realized that he could see again. He staggered to his feet, laughing like a madman.

"I'm alive!" he roared throwing his arms up "I'm alive and I can move! I can see!"

"But I don't know where I am," he added quietly after looking around.

His legs buckled and he knelt in the mud he was standing in. He called first Pope, then Dick and finally, Mariana, feeling almost physical pain in his chest as he loudly yelled her name.

He groped around, encouraged by the faint hints of light, trying to figure out where he was. He felt leaves, lots of leaves, then a tree trunk, then another tree. Looking carefully up, he managed to catch a glimpse of a piece of sky, lit only by the dim moon that was somewhere far away between the dense treetops. He was definitely in the woods and it was definitely still night. He staggered through the mud and started walking between the trees.

After stumbling for quite some time, the surroundings didn't look any different, darkness and trees. There was seemingly no way out of here. He thought that he probably wasn't in the woods by the road where they got lost and left his friends, but was back in one of those strange, lonely worlds where he always ended up during the "transfer". That could be good, in a way, because it meant that, after a while, he would have to go out somewhere else, maybe somewhere familiar, with people. On the other hand, he wasn't sure he ever wanted to experience a slow-motion "transfer" again.

A familiar voice woke him up from his thoughts:

"What, you're trying to trick me, aren't you?"

Bentley almost jumped in surprise, unable to believe his ears. Dick's voice. It was definitely Dick's voice. He waited a little longer until Dick let out another furious shout, and then he rushed in the direction from which the voice was coming.

A few more angry curses and a grunt brought him to the entrance of the cave. He only noticed that entrance due to the fact that, unlike the rest of the dark forest, it was illuminated like fire was burning inside. Bentley entered the ray of soft light, encouraged by the louder shouts of his friend. It was a comical and utterly absurd thought, but it seemed to Bentley that Dick sounded the same as when he was playing computer games. And that didn't make sense. Still, it was reassuring to hear Dick's voice, especially since he didn't sound like he was scared or in danger. Bentley stepped deeper into cave, completely disturbed by the absurd of what was happening. The cave was small and considering the dark night outside, it should have been completely dark inside. The light coming from inside and Dick's angry voice like the one of an angry player of a complicated computer game did not make any sense. Is this just a dream? Is this the world of the absurd and what is his place in here?

At last he entered the lighted chamber of the cave. And yes, Dick was there. He was standing in a chamber of the cave, surrounded by unusual construction, like a sculpture, which was all glittering like it were made of rhinestones and illuminated the cave with multi-colored lights, giving it a solemn appearance. His shaggy, light brown hair fell over his face, hiding it, but he was Dick, without any doubt.

Bentley stood as if he was spellbound. He couldn't fathom what this construction on which Dick worked devotedly consisted of and what it represented. It was unusually complex. It looked like it was made up of countless tiny parts, not two of which were the same. The shape of the construction itself was vague, but when looked at from various angles it seemed to be meaningful. It could have been a small castle, or it could have been a mythical dragon-like creature, or it could have been a group of playful elves. Whichever way Bentley looked, the sculpture of the construction revealed a new face. He was mesmerized. No wonder that Dick was so crazy about this game. Bentley came closer to him, himself enchanted by the play of light and shadows, wanting to take a closer look at that masterpiece, that marvelous game that Dick played.

Dick, however, did not even notice him even though Bentley called him by name several times. He was too busy. He turned away and pulled out a box wrapped in brown paper from somewhere. He tore off the paper and opened the box. He exclaimed happily and pulled out something square and shiny. It looked like a clear, square piece of frosted glass, with two shimmering square protrusions, one glowing pink and the other orange. It reminded Bentley of children's stacking blocks, except that this "block" looked expensive, like nothing he had ever seen. He was approaching Dick, ready to face him and ask him why he didn't notice him, why he didn't respond, and why he disappeared like that, leaving them all to wonder what happened to him. And of course, he wanted to see what Dick was doing so carefully all this time. It looked strangely tempting. He almost wanted to take part in putting together that magical sculpture.

But then Dick looked up. Bentley took a step back as the scream was curdling in his throat. It wasn't Dick. He looked like Dick, had his body, his hair, although very dusty, his voice, but the face... it was the face of an old man. A tortured, old and ancient, wrinkly face.

Bentley let out a cry and stood in place, not knowing what to do. He looked at the old man. The old man looked at him. Bentley recognized those brown eyes immediately. The features, though much older, were also familiar features. It was Dick after all, but for some reason, decades older.

"Bentley" muttered the old man with recognition in his eyes. His voice was still young.

"What…what in God's name are you doing?" Bentley said, trying to look more curious than horrified.

"I have to put this together, you know," explained the old man Dick, carefully arranging the glittering parts into his sculpture, as if he knew exactly where each part belonged. It was impossible. It appeared like Dick had completely lost his mind, but apparently he remained lucid enough to know how to handle this puzzle.

"Let it go" Bentley was moving slowly towards the old man, and his hands stretched out unwillingly towards his suddenly aged friend. Whatever Dick was doing, it was destroying him. He had to stop it.

"Leave it, my friend. We're all waiting for you to come back so we can get out of here. This place is... dangerous. We can't stay here. We have to go, my friend! Dick..."

"I'm not Dick! I am Ivan! Ivan!" shouted the old man, while his eyes turned red and a thin line of blood flowed from his nose. As soon as the new piece of the puzzle fit in, it obviously aged him a few more years.

Without much thinking, Bentley jumped towards that stubborn old man with the intention of dragging him away, but he forgot that he was in a cave with a not so high ceiling and on the way he clumsily hit his head on the ceiling of the cave, tripped and fell straight on the sparkling sculpture that Dick was making. Dick screamed. The sculpture shattered into thousands of tiny pieces that scattered all over the cave.

Bentley was hurt from the fall, especially since the pieces of the puzzle embedded into his body, and his head was ringing from the impact with the ceiling. Dick was screaming like he was being slaughtered. Then he knelt on the floor and sobbed.

"You ruined me" shakily "now I'll never get my life back together." Never!"

Bentley stood up, kicking the puzzle pieces in all directions. He couldn't understand what happened to Dick, but he was relieved when he saw that his face was normal and thirty years old again. He looked pretty bad though. Dust covered his face, hair and body, and blood was pouring from his nose, mixing with sweat and snot, which was turning the dust on his face black. He stared at Bentley with bloodshot eyes like he didn't understand what had happened.

Bentley stood up, holding his achy head.

"What were you making?" he asked "What kind of sculpture was that?"

"I do not know. I only remember that I was attracted by that colorful light and that I followed it through the trees. I remember feeling more and more strange the longer I looked into that light, like I was no longer able to fully control my body and mind. It was like I was losing control of myself. I remember everything like but it's all fuzzy. I know I was sure I had to put that puzzle together. I knew it would solve all my problems. Somehow I knew.'

Bentley started to tell Dick that he did not look at all like someone who was solving his life's problems and that he looked as if he had aged at least forty years, but he gave it up. He thought that perhaps by falling on that puzzle he saved Dick's life, even though he didn't realize it, but he decided that it was better not to say anything about it for now.

"And where are the others? Where's our van?" Dick asked, carelessly skipping over the glittering pieces of the puzzle as if he didn't just claim his life depended on it.

"I lost them," admitted Bentley.

"How the hell did you get here, and now you don't know how to get back to the van or at least to the road?!" Dick raged.

"And how did you get here?"

"Okay, you're right. I have no idea. This place is like... enchanted.''

Bentley laughed. Dick sounded like a little boy in a children's movie of the fairy tale or fantasy genre. Good old Dick always made even the worst situation look brighter and less serious. He was fascinated by Dick's ability to make things less serious just by being present there. They exited the cave, leaving the pieces of the puzzle shimmering behind them and calling, calling for someone to put them back together and make their lives better and fit together as perfectly as puzzle pieces could be.