1 The Bed

It always begins there, and sometimes it even ends there.

Jen thought once, 'One day it will all end there.', but that thought was cut short by a noise she could no longer remember.

She tries to remember that line sometimes, though she's not always successful. It's the only end goal, something to expect though not necessarily strive for. It simply is. And it's one of the only things that is permanence.

Jen had herself placed awkwardly on an elephant skin couch while she waited for The Judge to return. It was one of the rare chances of peace she was afforded, and the gazelles and rhinos with their smiling faces mounted to the wall seemed eager to tell her a joke at any moment. Likely something something about their friend, the elephant, she was sitting on.

The room wasn't exactly the best place for peaceful thinking as the walls were covered in an assortment of African momentos from the judges youth (both tribal, safari, and trophies), and wherever there wasn't the wall was painted a deep but unsettling red. The room was horribly cluttered and the carpet, which was as uncommon to find as the the red of the walls, was a smelly mint green shag. All the furniture but the elephant couch was made of a mahogany almost as deep crimson as the walls and was equally uneasy on the eyes.

'Stop thinking and start thinking.' Jen thought as she pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them tight against her. She closed her eyes, blocking out the visual noise that was keeping her from thinking with the clarity she knew she should take advantage of. She would soon forget how she got here if she didn't find focus.

'Why am I here?'

'To meet The Judge.'

'Why?'

'To prove my innocence.'

'Why?'

'Because that's what you do.'

'Why?'

'Because... I don't want to go to prison?'

'Why?'

She had wasted too much time, or maybe asked the wrong question. Maybe she should've focused harder, either way, The Judge had arrived. He gave Jen a pleasant smile and a wave as he took his time walking to his desk and getting himself settled in. He opened a drawer and pulled out a revolver, inspected it closely, then put it down gently on the luxurious desk. It instantly fell to pieces. Jen stared forward and did not comment.

"You know what you did." The Judge said holding his pleasant smile.

"I didn't do anything though. I had the gun but I didn't use it."

"You shouldn't have had it in the first place. No one owns something without having the intention of using it. Especially in the middle of The Metropolis."

"I didn't do anything though..." The stress was already getting to her. She could feel a familiar pressure behind her eyes building so she looked away towards the floor.

"Look, if you admitted what you were going to do I would have let you off, but you've spent weeks sitting on the Lonely Chair and still nothing... normally that's all the interrogative torture AND payment for crimes necessary... but you won't even admit what you were thinking."

"I didn't..." her voice cracked and she did not continue.

"Here's the deal, you have a knack for getting away with things, but we need the Lonely Chair for other people beyond just you..."

The Judge stood up from his chair and whispered into the ear of one of the animals on his wall. Jen didn't know it's name. The Judge stared blankly, finally losing his smile as his mouth opened subtly. He stood like that for an uncomfortable amount of time.

"...Here's the deal... We're going to let you free..."

Jens heart skipped with confusion.

"We... I... think it's best that you go... now."

Jen stumbled off the awkwardly shaped couch and left quickly without another word.

She had only met with The Judge a few times in the past, though she couldn't remember why.

'Similar reasons to this time.' She assumed sheepishly.

She walked down a long and old looking hallway, Victorian in style and judging from the smell had freshly cut carpet unlike The Judge's office. Every door had silence behind it, though somewhere down the hallway the smell of a classy breakfast wafted on for infinity. The last time she walked this hall she was stuck for a couple days. She knew to just keep walking till the door called for her.

As always there was no one but her. Every so often she'd see a painting on the wall of midwest America, though they never had people in them and when they did they were so far away they were nearly a dot on the horizon. Most featured glowing gold fields and decrepit barns. She learned from experience not to look to closely at the barns. Every so often a painting would show a dog half concealed in the grasses. Generally either a German shorthair or wirehair, and always on the hunt. She'd stop and admire these ones if the attentive animal was close enough to admire.

Eventually she came across a door with subtle gold lining on it's frame and went through without hesitation. There was a moment of darkness before the twinkling of yellow street lights and orange and green flames burned through the darkness.

Jen took careful steps forward as the feeling of carpet changed to snow and the temperature dropped dramatically. She could feel the sleeves on her shirt grow just past her wrists as the fabric got thicker, and her shorts followed shortly after. The small sparkles of light grew into the glowing city she was only lucky enough to visit a few short times.

It looked like a small skiing town. Small squat buildings made of dark logs, old looking windows and surrounded by wrought iron fences. A large black mountain towered above the thick clouds that hung low over the village, and despite the dark sky the moon lit up the world in a way that made it all inviting. The desire to join the warm little town was accentuated by all the green and orange flames from the candles placed in the window frames of buildings where merriment could be heard. Most of the windows were tall and thin, but Jen could easily see the people inside the small taverns having a good time drinking and dancing with friends. It was easy to make bad decisions here, and she knew she must have made some herself while visiting, but everything about the peaceful town made it so hard to believe any of it was a mistake.

She approached her favorite bar, Pine Tankard, with long and increasingly excited steps as she got closer, a grin growing on her face as a familiar group of people came out to greet her. A woman around her age with short bright red hair and a similar sweater to her own, standing beside a man of similar age in a heavy green parka and black beanie. They smirked as she approached and the woman wrapped her in a hug.

"Look who finally found her way back!" The woman exclaimed.

"It's been a while, yeah... it's good to see you Sandra."

"And what about me?" The male said crossing his arms. He always gave Jen a hard time. His interest in her was blatant.

"Hush James of course it's good to see you again. What have you two been up too all this time?"

"We've been where the wind takes us, but mostly here." Sandra said as she guided Jen and her brother back to their table. "It's easy to stay here, plenty to see on the mountain and plenty of good times in the village."

The place hadn't changed since the last time Jen visited, but she doubt it ever had changed. Log walls, wood floors, rough tables and chairs made of the same wood, and upstairs were bedrooms in a similar style. The whole place had a warm glow from the candles that lit the place. Despite their being powered lights most people used candles inside.

They sat down and ordered a few warm meads each, even if they weren't Jen's favorite. They talked about their journeys, not really understanding each others stories, but happy to listen knowing they all needed times like this to try and talk their way through what they had experienced. This place was stable, and while it had a drunkening effect on the mind and memory it was better then other places. The night went on for days until Jen finally said goodnight and rented a room. Everything was spinning and she knew she would have to go soon. As soon as she fell on the simple wooden bed the spinning stopped and she could tell she was somewhere she'd never been.