Would You Like To Start Again?

It was easier than I remembered.

The billowing winds that had once forced me to pull my cloak tight around my chest were gentler than they had been the last time I was here, nor did the setting sun didn’t sap my strength as quickly as it once had, though I could attribute that to being more prepared this time around.

I continued shuffling on through the sand, leaving a trail of uniform footprints behind me that would soon vanish, eroded into nothing as if I’d never come this way at all.

Yet I had. Many, many years ago.

At first, it had been hard to tell if anything had changed since then. The colour palette of the landscape was just as I remember - honey coloured sand dunes beneath a deep indigo sky - but the details of my surroundings eluded me, lost to the fog of antiquated memory.

Were the stars that bright last time? Were there more of them, or less? I could see the shapes of mountain peaks in the distance, but I could not recall if that was the case last time.

I soothed myself, and remembered why I was here. It wasn’t to compare my experiences, or to scrutinise. I was here to lose myself to nostalgia and relive the simple, childlike joy of the past. I paused for a moment, to let it all flow through me.

Then it was back to the task at hand.

I was close to the end, just a couple more of these undulating dunes before I’d reach the rocky plateau. I’d have to climb, but I’d brought all the gear I needed for that. This, too, was easier than the last time. I put it down to muscle memory; an instinctive and unconscious understanding of what I needed to do to overcome whatever obstacle had been placed before me. I had, after all, done this before.

Awaiting me at the top of the plateau was a familiar face. I didn’t realise how much I’d missed them, or how vividly I remembered the details of their eyes and hair and the clothes they wore.

“You have come far, my friend. What a journey it has been.” they said. Each word rang in my head, so familiar that I found myself reciting their words as they spoke.

“Did you bring the talisman?” the figure asked, and without a word I withdrew it from the pockets of my cloak.

It looked akin to a dreamcatcher, made of finely carved wood and embedded with gemstones. I’d acquired it a long while ago, and had been tasked with bringing it safely to this place.

The figure took the talisman from my hands and turned, reverently placing it atop an altar of sandstone blocks. The Cairn. I remembered it so well.

Once the talisman had been placed, the figure turned to me and spoke once more.

“Your oath has been fulfilled, and the world will know balance once again.”

With that, motes of white light rose from the Cairn like fireflies. The sun had set completely, and the only lights I could see were these and the stars above, the difference between them negligible.

A mirage of images flashed in front of my eyes. The people I’d met, the places I’d visited, all in the span of this quest. They were happy, healed. I had done good in the world.

I had done it all before, but this time it felt different. Their stories were more impactful, and there were nuances to the characters I hadn’t noticed the last time. I felt moved. I had grown a lot as a person since the last time I was here, so perhaps my worldly experiences are what brokered a more powerful connection to their lives. I saw shadows of myself in some of them, and in others I caught glimpses of people I knew, stirring behind their words and actions as if they were created in their image. I’d never noticed these things before, but I suppose I was young then.

There was much to dwell on, but I felt exhausted. It was late.

The motes of light began to fade, leaving only the stars above to light up my view of an empty desert and a collection of ancient stones.

Slowly, the stars began to disperse and darken, until what little light remained formed words in the indigo night sky.

“The End.”

-

I shook myself, flicking the last remnants of that fantastic world from my head as if I was breaching the surface of the sea.

I was in my living room, alone in the dark. On the television screen, text scrolled along listing game developers, producers and artists. The strained whirring of an old gaming console added depth to the soft, harmonious soundtrack of the game’s end credits.

I yawned, stretched, and began cleaning up the takeout and empty beer cans I’d left on the coffee table beside me. I hadn’t intended on spending my night this way, but when I found that old console while cleaning out the shed this morning, the game disc still safe and secure inside it, I knew I needed to relive those good old days I’d spent as a kid, immersed in that world.

After cleaning up, I returned to the living room to switch everything off for the night. That poor old console needed a break anyways, dusty and decrepit as it was.

A black screen awaited me, empty but for a few words glowing against the darkness.

“Would You Like To Start Again?”