Chapter Text
Once Upon a Time
A Chapter Excerpt
A child. And the Broadcaster. Both cohabitating in the same space. Them. This… It could not be a cycle. Though he already knew damn well he never broke the cycle - as evidence by existence here - it was ongoing. His interference, what little was introduced, only prolonged the eventuals of their fate.
Inevitably, the boy returned to the Tower, the cycle resumed. The boy goes to the Tower, the cycle renewed. There was no end. Never was. Never could be.
The boy came out from beneath the table, a large stuffed beast toy crushed in his arms. It was a deplorable, crusty thing. And it did not belong to that child.
“No. That is not F̷̼̐ó̸̘r̷̤̒ ̸͈̔Y̷̥̓o̸͇̊ṷ̵̊.̷̞́” Never mind the boy was now dangling from the toy, and refused to let go.
“For. S'have.”
He ripped the boy free and set him aside. “Ļ̶̘̓ḛ̶͕͂t̴̫̓̊ͅ ̴̘͉̇̾I̷̭͑́t̷̙̔̽ ̸̻͘B̷̨̛̟͒ē̷͚.̶͎̓̕” The plush ratty thing he set upon the chair, with the coat. And there he stayed where he had knelt, gaze unmoved while studying the scribbled art across the scattered pages.
Countless piles of pictures and marks, of the child and a Broadcaster. Of toys and varied scenes, none of which he could grasp the meaning of. It felt as if he was reading one of those rubbish books pouring details of a world that did not exist. These pictures might as well be a fairytale delusion, since this child did not exist. He had the boy, and he was the current – or former – Broadcaster of the Pale City. But the child in the pictures had a scruffy head of hair and he was proud of his coat, and the tall thin man that frequented the pictures.
The boy which followed him… was nothing but an afterimage of the memory, who wore hats and wore a paper bag he should have shed long-long ago. His tampering achieved nothing worthwhile. It would appear, they have done this song and dance for centuries. The cycle persisted. The Tower held its Broadcaster.
Ẉ̸̼͎̰̠͓̘̩̇͆̌̍͐́͒̾̚H̶̛͈̊͌͑̑́̕͝͝͝A̸̖̪͉̟̝̩͕̯͖̘̠͒T̷̨̺̱̝͈̱͚̪͔̳͑̽̔̆̑̉̀̉́͒
̴̢͖͈̠̙̪̑
̷̨̝̼̣̮̖̜͑͋̒͛̚H̸̡̳̦͓̪̻̣̮͓̿ͅÄ̶̢͍̭͖̼͍̣̥̙̹̿͂͌͜Ș̵̻̹̱͍̬̈̀̈̈̎̾̿̀͜
̴̟͍̘̒̈̇͜͠
̸̘̱̟͍̩̙̖̩̺̔͜B̴̦̰̙̼̮́͗̈ͅÉ̷̢̩͎̼͔̓̓́͗͊̈́̌͝E̴̝͖̞͙͕̜͊̈͒͑̀̎̈́͊̕͠Ǹ̸̡͔̖͍̑̑
̵̙̗͚̼̫̒͛̐́̑̿͛̈͂̚
̷̨̝̼̣̮̖̜͑͋̒͛̚H̸̡̳̦͓̪̻̣̮͓̿ͅÄ̶̢͍̭͖̼͍̣̥̙̹̿͂͌͜Ș̵̻̹̱͍̬̈̀̈̈̎̾̿̀͜
̴̟͍̘̒̈̇͜͠
̵̢̠̜̜̼͓̫͚͔̠͊̌Ş̷̯̮̞̙̹͍͍̟̖̓͂̔̀̅H̵̛̝̹̳̼͎̱̟̯͆̈́̽͋̑̚͜A̸̡̛͓͖̪̰̱͕̗̋̀́͐͑͂̚͠L̷̯̳̼͓͛L̴̡̢̧̺̟̫͈͉̘͗̈́̾̑̐̒͜͝
̶̟͙̆̑̅͘͝
̷̣̼̍B̵̟̥͉̯̘̗̊͒́̀̾̿̄Ę̵̨̡̘̹̳̥̲̞̠̝͊̇̌́͒͒̈́͠
̴̛͖̖̩̫̩̭̦̪̈́̀̾̒̌̒͗́
̴̙̙̻̱͍̈́̿͜B̷̝̤̪̱̃̋̑̐͘͘E̵̼̹͍̿̊̽́̆̈́̀̏͛͝Ë̴͍̻͍͉̻̜̭͈̰͕͔̂̎̓͌̿̃̏͆̚͝Ṋ̸̨̳̟̝̟͚̙̱̟̔̃͌͌́̈́̆͜͝͝
̶̘͍͓̦̫̩͕̫͓͈́̓̉̚͝͝͝
̶͇̝̑̎͛͆̀͛̚Ȃ̵̡̨̛̛͚̺̜͓̘͔̮̮̈́̍̾̾̽̓̑͜͝L̶̳̉̒̌W̶̨̭̳̝̭̹̯̾̈̈̎̇͆͒͑͌̈́A̶̢̨͎̜̜̖̗̤͗͜Y̸̛̻͋͗̋̾̂̔̕S̷̡̡̫̤͎̙̜̼̬̭̮̆̂̚
He would never truly be free.
A corridor awaiting beyond the sitting room had additional rooms, but no space carried anything worthy of labored focus. Nothing but the echoes of a discarded timeline, of the childish antics of a rambunctious boy with a vivid imagination. In one room and scattered across the floor, numerous books harbored the overlapping babble of mark speek. Sometimes he would find a fictional beast and the boy in… nonviolent contact. Among the memories, the boy and his ‘artistic’ renditions of the Broadcaster in varied scenarios he cannot begin to envision. He could almost hear them.
“What are you up to now?”
“Have the fun! For look what make.”
He stepped after the child into a room. For a moment, he thought the glimmering flicker was nothing but an illusion. Alas, it was the boy that followed him endlessly. That child was scouting, weaving through dost mottles and pausing at every curiosity.
“Look what you made?”
“Sure! You see?”
A child’s room. Some of the walls had shelving set up, the platforms filled with varied gadgets he was unfamiliar with. A few tools littered the floor, among piles of blankets and other trinkets that might occupy a curious child. It made him wonder.
“I see what you made, Mono. I can see.”
The boy shuffled his way over to a bed fitted into the furthest corner of the room. It was nothing remarkable, the covers rumpled the way abandoned beds were across the city; he never paid attention to the relics.
“C̵̖̫͗͘h̵̢̅̌ḯ̶̧͕̈l̸͙̹̋d̶͍̑.̷̣̰̐” The boy stopped near the bed and looked up at him. “Get over here.” He glittered out of the room and waited, as the small exited. On his whim, the door shut at his back.