Author's Note

A cool editor helped me with this one! he goes by the name Koekelbag!

Fuck that, Fuck you!

Fuck that, fuck you, fuck that, fuck you, fuck that, fuck you, fuck that, fuck you, fuck that
The glorious thoughts of Max were shouted to the heavens as he ran the fuck away from a big monster that would most likely kill him.

fuck that, fuck you… fuck that… fuck you… fuck.
His thoughts ran to an end as the forest started thinning. Appearing as if it was coming to an end, the ground becoming lighter, the shadows slowly stopped flowing through the trees, and sounds of wildlife soon came into reach. Light poured through the splits within the treeline, bringing a pain to the eyes of the marching human.

Max continues a little farther letting his eyes adjust, forcing his eyes open. A field, brimming with chest high weeds, spreading over all visible horizon. The light seeming to fight against the shadows for control over the scene, flashing in the eyes of Max, bringing a sense of beauty that practically poured itself through his mind. The scene distracting Max from-

RAUGH!- An extremely close, and loud, roar cut through his emotions and thoughts, reminding him of his most recent scientific development of a phrase.

Fuck that, fuck you, fuck that, fuck you!

Max continued his hike of survival, pushing through the weeds, hardly paying attention to his surroundings, merely looking into the sky watching as the mix of night and day attempt to press themselves together, each fighting for dominance over the other. Presenting in a way that denied everything he knew about the world.

Max continued with confidence, feeling a mushed ground beneath him. Looking forward, he saw something that shocked him out of his mindless daze and pushed him into absolute wonder.

A tower, made of old stones, Renaissance style! A structure that made sense to only be in one area of the world. Europe, he was no longer in America, he was free! He would just have to get out of europe, travel through the middle east maybe go to Asia, India would be best.

Castles in Europe are almost all museums, he could use the name as a point of reference for where to travel, and in what location he was in. There he could find a path to get where he wanted, and figure out what the hell was wrong with the world. Knowing he couldn't fix it, but curious in the least.

He pushed forward with extra umph, determined to figure out where he was.

Coming to what looked to be the edge of a ravine, Max takes a look at the sizable castle, or its remnants to be more exact. It stands, clearly on the older end of castles, big too, early crusades by the look of it. Structure style is wrong though, but it's most certainly in bad enough shape to be easily 700 years or older Max thought to himself, bringing his sightseeing to a stop to start looking for a way to cross. His sights came to a stop at an old looking rope bridge. Most likely for aesthetics, a castle this size has most definitely not escaped discovery which brought Max to the entrance of the bridge.

I’m pretty sure it’s just aesthetics. Maybe. Testing the first of many boards on the bridge, it held up surprisingly well, didn’t even creak. This information gave a sudden boost of confidence about the mystery bridge, and on his way he went, across the bridge. Going almost halfway before encountering a problem.

Crack-
snap-

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A few of the boards behind me fell, one from being too damaged to hold itself up, and the other from having one of the knots holding it snap.

I was frozen in place staring at where the rope snapped with a fear and uncertainty rivaling an NBA coach betting on Shaq hitting a free throw, which made me freeze with anticipation and tension waiting for the fall that would bring me to wheelchair status.

The rope held, and I slowly moved forward, with the decision of not coming back this way. Hurrying across with care, I reached the land and almost threw himself off the bridge. Note to self; don’t cross random bridges, even if they look cool. A very useful note to be brought to all mortals that wish to make a living finding random castles. But almost definitely a one time thing for me.

Getting up from my knees, I looked up. The dark gray stone of the castle filling my eyes to the brim, forcing me to take the details into his sight. Mold coated and infiltrated the stones that made up the walls. And a pair of doors were on the far left of where I was standing.

Those doors look heavy as shit, probably a back entrance to the museum, if it's a museum. This place looks like shit. I thought, moving towards them, scanning the door for any signs of a lock, which to my delight there was none.

I walked in front of it, and put my back onto what looked like a sturdy clean part of it. And pushed, the heavy door must have weighed a hundred pounds at least, but enough alice pack marching gave me the back strength of a horse.

Grrrnn- the left door groaned as it was forced open.

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Max slipped through the crack he made in the doors, trying not to scrape his back on the rusty casing of the door.

The air was still, dust unmoved but willing to spread through the air at the slightest movement, shadows stalking in the corners, waiting for an apt time to snap and slam themselves throughout the whole of the room. The silence bringing a tautness uncomparable to even the ride on the bus, the memory of an unfavorable deed soaked itself throughout the floors of the room.

Max, looking around noticed none of this, instead noticing the scrap worthy banners that the mere thought of still existing amazed him. Their post rusted and small, but in a rather pristine condition compared to other older ferrous items.

He looked around the room that he could see, his eyes scanning each archway containing doors. The excitement that could be considered giddiness boiled throughout his mind, destroying his thoughts, and making him walk carelessly towards one of the doors. Until the sound of cracking stone caught his attention.

Crack- small bits of stone ground into the ground.

Looking down, Max noticed he crushed one of the corners of a stone tile, halting his movement completely.

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The floor, castles had cellars, im sure they had very thick distances between the cellar and the floor but risking it is a good way to wind up on the back of a milk carton. If I didn’t want to be, and already was, on the back of a milk carton.

I looked further through the room, only to notice that those doors entrapped my attention far more than I thought. This was a throne room, two wide chairs a few meters apart, one with what looked to be blue inked cushions and tapestry coating it, and the other with yellow. Clearly showing two rulers. Through the yellow one was a little higher than the blue maybe the primary rulers seat? Maybe the blue was an esteemed counselor.

I walked up to it and looked at the cushions. They held up way too well, someone fixed them up, feathers don't last that long. The chairs themselves were made of a similar stone that the walls were made of, and they were in almost perfect condition, unlike the rest of the castle.

But the idea that someone could have been here is incorrect, the dust is too hardened on the ground and walls, these floors have not felt the presence of pressure in years upon years. As can be told by the prints my shoes leave on the floor. The only two ways this could have been possible is that these pillows are of a different material, or they have been in near perfect isolation for all these years. But that would have been impossible, nothing is in perfect isolation, most definitely not something like this.

I slowly lifted the yellow cushion and looked for any sort of cut within the material, I turned the surprisingly light and soft cushion over and over in search for a broken seam, and I found one.

Down, this is impossible, no down of any sort could have lasted the life of this castle. What in the hell is up with the world! I need to get shit together, could I be hallucinating? No, the environment is too detailed and i'm too cognative to be hallucinating or in a coma. Maybe, i'm not on earth?... Thats fucking stupid, i’m not putting my chips towards god being pissy.

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Max took no notice of his surroundings as he walked through the throne room, trying to decide which door to go through, all of them beckoning his redneck curiosity. Each pulling at him for him to explore, but the need for identification of where he was at pushed at his conscious.

Looking up, through the cracks and holes in the roof, max saw the tops of spires that reached far above the forest. The perfect high ground, they would be great for looking for any surrounding towns, pathways would be easy to see too.

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“FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! I fucking hate old castles. Where the shit is their fucking stairs!”

Walking around for hours can be very annoying if you're not a fan of breathing old dust, but the structural planner of this castle sure was. I was walking around the castle for what felt like an eternity, entering random doors and random hallways attempting to find a stairway that would lead up to the top of the spires.

I was in what could only be described as a library, books lining the walls. Their presence showing two things; the owners were very powerful, possibly the highest power of the nearby land; and that no one has ever been here, nobody could resist bringing a reporter here and becoming the famed explorer that found this motherload. The room's floor was covered in rubble, broken tables strewn about as if there was a fight that happened here. A twenty foot tall broken window was across the room and two doors nearby.

I looked to the left and noticed one of the two big doors, walking towards it and forcing it open, I saw something that has evaded the reaches of my sight for the past three hours. Stairs, the beautiful stairs decorated the small room, stretching straight up to what I presumed to be a watch tower.

I tested the first few steps, to test for any amount of wiggle room, this was the best chance I had to tell where I was. To my eternal delight no movement happened in the least. Testing a few more steps I pushed on, until my confidence in the stairs grew to an average level.

I quickly climbed them, each step taking a little bit of my soul away, until I was nothing more than a soulless husk of its previous self on the edge of a staircase. Panting as I looked around, I noticed I was in a personal study of some sort. Some cushions thrown around, a few book cases on the walls, and a smashed window the size of a wall, with what looks to be some slight remnants of a huge burn mark under a few pieces of glass.

I walked around the room, testing the floor for the chance that it would fall under my weight, which to my good fortune didn’t immediately fall, and walked towards the left of the room.

Pulling out a book from one of the shelves I noticed the paper, more specifically How the hell is the paper not fully roten away, wind has to blow through this tower constantly, it should be nothing more than dust. I thought as I opened the book.

Thump- the book fell out of my hands as I looked at the language that was on it. This is impossible.

Looking out the window I nearly died of a heart attack. I can’t possibly be on earth.

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Max stared out the window, light stabbing itself into his eyes, reflecting the image of what could only be considered the dumbest architectural decision to have ever been made. A shining marble castle built onto the side of a mountain, looming over a city of marble itself, an amazing feat that would have been a worldwide phenomenon. This meant one clear thing, this thing was so amazingly hard hitting that Max dropped right then, right there and fell out of the window onto the stone roof below. Causing a low thud that could have been heard miles away.