Lionel Praxis // d6 // finished

not the needle, nor the thread
the lost decree
saying nothing
that's enough for me

Somewhere a baby laughs. It's unnatural to hear that, especially after all the silence. It awakens the palace, words flying around corners and shouts bouncing off walls. I hear chimes in the wind - wind? Doves escape from the attic, swooping down the spiral staircase and into the kitchen. Do we have a kitchen? They're gone now. The laugh has brought light to the ceramic palace, light I have not seen in weeks. It feels like weeks. Plants are growing on the giant marble pillars, and that means there is life again. I've been in deep, clearly, and now my mind is more active. It's not waking up, but it's active. My temple is functional again, and so am I. Come and find me.

I have heard birds and dogs before, sometimes I can even hear screams from downstairs, but never have I heard a baby. It makes me want to get up and find which room it is in. I want to see why it is laughing. This world is full of wonders, but it has never been a happy place. It is a lonely place.

Mirrors spin, sending reflections across the hallways. A lone dove returns, shooting down the corridor into another room. I smell lavender and I want to smile. It reminds me of Six. The lavender is gone all too quickly, replaced by the potent scent of hot tarmac. Smells of home. Is this a test? I don't want to be reminded of home, not when I'm getting used to this isolation.

I don't want

Smash, Smash.

No.

Oh dear, now a statue has broken. You see what you have done? I emerge from the water, water running down my dark skin. I gasp for air - air that I already had. My eyes open, deep brown, and I blink away the water. Naked, I climb out of the ceramic bathtub and run down the hallway, drenching the oak floorboards as I do. I run and run and run and

I straighten my tie, unsure as to whether I like red or blue better. The mirrors disagree with the red, but the blue has calmed them down a little. I pull up my dark brown trousers, doing a half-spin to see if they fit me okay. The mirror shows me how I think I look. Blond hair, blue eyes, slim figure, dark features. Lionel Praxis, the boy in the temple. A crack in the mirror has me intrigued. On closer inspection I notice a tiny daisy poking its way through. How can it grow from the mirror, when there is no soil or nutrients? Is it growing from the other side of the mirror, from another reality? I smile at that.

I enter the foyer, sighing at the massive clock that hangs on the wall. It is a strange clock that looks like it has twelve points and two hands, but on closer inspection you can see days and months and years. Seven, two, nineteen. I've been here for seven years, two months and nineteen days. To be honest I'm surprised they haven't shut me off yet. The doctors and nurses on the outside world must be working incredibly hard. I'm guessing my Father is out there too. My adopted father, who raised me as his own and gave me the name Praxis. Has he given up?

Minotaur.

I'm hiding under the bed as he passes by, his face dripping with malice. He drags a huge iron hammer behind him - the end is jagged and sharp, and sparks as it scrapes across the marble. I am terrified of the Minotaur. He finds me in the end, he always finds me no matter where I hide. I run and hide and watch him past, but he always finds me.

Not today though. That's weird.

Nine years old when I was caught up in all that mess on the outside world. It's so much safer in here, even if the Minotaur does get me every now and again. I am sixteen now I guess - judging by the clock in the foyer. It could be lying for all I know. I don't act nine, I act sixteen. When you're alone for so long you learn to mature quickly, and accept the situations you find yourself in. Peacekeeper batons are dangerous things, especially if you're young and fragile.

Smash.

Well, now you've gone and broken another statue. That was careless. Statues will be back tomorrow. They always reform by morning. I once smashed this place into a billion pieces, but by morning it was all fixed. My mind in default setting, I suppose. I like to pretend I understand the science, but so much madness flies around this place that I gave up on logic a long time ago.

I wonder if I'll ever wake up. I've tried killing myself, to see if that would wake me up, but I just return to being in the bathtub, submerged in water. If I jump from the top of the spiral stairs and hit the marble flooring, smashing my head open, I find myself underwater, emerging naked, as always. Reborn in this temple.

I smell fire as I walk up the staircase and follow the sound of laughter. Too much joy in my temple. Too much irrelevance. There are patterns that I am used to, but this goes against everything I've become accustomed to. It's wrong. It's out of sync. A dove flies overhead. I thought I got rid of you? Kitchen. Something's burning. Doves?

I open a door, peering inside anxiously. No baby, just bricks floating in the air, rotating at right angles. Structure. I open the next door down, and the wind almost knocks me into the opposite wall. I grip with my feet and force the door closed before I'm swept away by it. Wind. That's new. The third door I open reveals another door when I open it, but it has no handle, so I can't open it. The fourth door leads me down a new corridor, the laughter is louder here. I'm onto something.

I press my ear carefully to the wood of each door, trying to hear if the baby is inside. This approach is quicker, as I don't have to worry about what's inside each room. Curiosity grips me, and I become anxious to find out what this baby is, and why it is laughing. Laughter is alien here.

I find a door that I think the baby is behind. The laughing is more audible here than anywhere else. I smile as I stand back, my hand on the iron handle, ready to open the door at a flick of the wrist. I slowly open the door. The Minotaur stands, his giant iron hammer in one hand, a bleeding baby in the other - still laughing.

"Oh. There you are." I sigh. He always finds me. And with a swing of his hammer, I am dead.

I emerge from the water, water running down my dark skin. I gasp for air - air that I already had. My eyes open, deep brown, and I blink away the water. Naked, I climb out of the ceramic bathtub.

and at once i knew i was not magnificent
hulled far from the highway aisle
jagged, vacance, thick with ice
i could see for miles, miles, miles