Alternate Choices

Flash Fiction from the Vault.

Nestled within imposing defensive walls stood a charming hamlet. Built beside a tower, a castle-keep, bathed in a misty, mercurial grey blanket of morning’s muted light.

The castle’s interior waited, open—its central archway a tall, broad portal through the high stone palisade. A man in hiking gear, Thomas, paused, his face a picture of confusion. His map showed no such place. Yet here loomed an imposing fortification.

Every inhabitant Tom glimpsed through the gates wore odd clothes, mixing historical styles with modern ones. Night-and-day wear combined, all eccentric, eclectic choices. They sometimes stopped staring past him as if they could not perceive his presence, before turning aside, wandering, but never walking outside.

Tom observed a young lady conversing with an older one. They seemed identical, except for their age. A third person, a child, joined their discussion, and their intimacy intensified. He saw them as a girl, a woman, and a crone, and seeing Tom, they walked to the gate and beckoned him to come through.

Drawing closer to them, Tom noticed how the women’s features appeared to be a variation on a theme. For reasons Tom couldn’t fathom, each felt familiar, as if one person possessed many faces—all resembling his own. The older lady carried a large canvas bag; the young woman, a coat; and the child, a walking stick.

Tom hesitated, contemplating turning away, but his curiosity got the best of him—comprehending their gestures, he took the cane, the overcoat, and from the crone a top hat.

The ladies waved him goodbye. Tom turned perplexed, searching for the broad gate. Confused, he wandered around the wall’s perimeter, but found only solid stone. He recognised himself in every person he met. He entered a covered walkway that led to stairs descending into the earth.

The subterranean architecture sprawled in an arcane Gothic style. By torchlight, Tom explored this hidden fortress—a cavernous, neglected counterpart to the castle above. It crouched below, empty and dark. Tom reeled, confused, as if lost after what felt too long underground. At last, a winding staircase. Above, a glimmer of daylight appeared.

Tom ascended, entering the towering keep and stepping into an opulent interior. Here, an eclectic group of four men, three of whom stood ready to eat dinner at an ornate banqueting table. Each fellow might have been his twin or at least his brother. The suit-wearing host greeted Tom, “I am the Surgeon.” Another, dressed in denim, held out his hand. “I am the Builder.” The third, in casual but expensive attire, languished on a couch, holding a glass of wine. “Cheers.” A last man called himself “The Chief Cook.” He broke into a broad grin. “We are you.” “Potential, alternates,” the Drinker added. “This is a place where time and space converge,” the Builder said. The Surgeon continued, “Here, the past, present, and future coexist.” “You can stay with us and explore this great tower. Come dine,” the Cook gestured to the lavish tableau of meats and drinks.

Tom experienced a surge of excited curiosity, but also doubt. If he ate, would he become bound to them, making him just another fragment of a composite whole? The dilemma tore at him. He desired the keep and its inhabitants and their special bond, but what of his life outside?

The four men spoke in unison. “Choose to be many or one, to be complete.”

Tom stared into this imperfect mirror and out towards a small open doorway. A tug pulled at his heart, a question in his mind. Tom wrestled with doubt, conflict, confusion, and clarity. He made his choice. Tom chose the narrow gate.