Many times I had journeyed down that river. Heedless of parental warnings, I would pick my way through marshes and wetlands that looked dark and suspicious to my parents. I saw it in a brighter light, though the god-like status of my parents back then had regrettably settled a thin film of suspicion over my eyes. I ventured anyway, and delighted in the cool rushing of molecules over my warm feet. It's different now. I live on the other side of the river, in the enormous red-bricked mansion that dominates the landscape and punctuates the sky. Well, not anymore, but that's how it was in the beginning. The mansion was comparable to a small city. Every person I had ever met, close friends, old friends, acquaintances, family, all lived within the house. We were reasonably spread apart within the establishment, and there was enough room for everybody. Each person chose the lifestyle they wished; some inhabited wide, open rooms, other tucked themselves away into solitary nooks and crannies, and still others bundled against their own family and loved ones. I was under the impression that many of them were unhappy there, nonetheless. The majority of my acquaintances and brief encounters favored me with hostile expressions whenever we passed by in the halls. Other than those quick little exchanges of expression, they did their best to avoid me at all. My closest friends and family appeared to still care for me, but they were more impatient with me than usual. I am sure that I was subconsciously holding everybody hostage in that mansion. It was the only explanation I could think of, anyway, but at the time I just couldn't seem to let them go. I wanted to, but I was clueless as to how. The house was difficult to get out of, and even if one did manage to escape, the river was impossible to cross unless you took the exact route that only I knew. And I certainly had no desire to go anywhere. So there we all were, some bewildered, some indignant, mostly just resigned. Something began to happen though. It began with a little, commonplace occurrence, but quickly escalated into something else. Something catastrophic. There was a leak in the roof. But it didn't stop there. The wood or carpet flooring, depending on where you were in the house, refused to soak up the stubborn little polar molecules. They merely puddled together and stacked and flowed and rose and it was terrifying. There was nothing we could do to staunch the flows and drips and accumulations. The tenants of our home turned on me, accusation turning their faces into ugly shapes. I didn't know what to do, of course. I panicked. The rest is a blur. I only remember vague sea monsters in somehow digital shapes, eating matter and reshaping it into something terrible. They were coming after us and tearing down our reality. We ourselves dressed ourselves in devices that rendered matter useless, and dug ourselves into new, larger dimensions to pull out friendly deities who were willing to help. All of this was very blurred and shaky and terrifying, and I remember my heart pounding so hard I was certain of my own death at one point. In the end, however, the matter was destroyed but we survived. The foundation was emaciated and struggling, so we flowed forth with the water from the house, all of us struggling and tired and desperate. I talked to a few of the people I had held captive. Lance was there, of course, and he insulted me. I laughed, eyes casting off the words, and shot them straight back at him. They bounced off of him as well, and we both smiled at each other with slightly derisive eyes, but accepting. It was an unsettling relief. The river was there again. Always back to the river. I touched it and it was easy to navigate. Everybody went their own ways. I don't know where I went.
