Find your own way to the course.

Screw waiting, you know your way The Glen like the back of your hand. You set off into the woods with a pep in your step.

It’s gotten dark since you left the dorm, as if the clouds were lower. Or maybe it’s the woods themselves. Even though the trees are stripped of their leaves, they block out everything — the sun, the wind, the sounds of campus. Your only companion is the soft crunch of leaves beneath your feet and the quiet, visible panting of your breath.

Before you is a fork in the road, and, for the first time, your memory fails you. Maybe you don’t remember how to get to the ropes course… To the left, the trail snakes down into a gorge, and you can hear the faintest sound of running water. To your right, the path shoots up along a ridge, curving away from campus.

BBAAAA) Go left, into the gorge.

BBAAAB) Go right, up onto the ridge.

Nature Walk & Ropes Course

“Careful,” the student says, smiling. “Rumor has it that The Butcher is back.” You smile at the old ghost story, a holdover from days spent hazing freshman every Halloween. It’s good to know the new students keep up traditions. No matter how long it’s been, some things never change.

Butcher or not, nothing beats an autumn walk in the woods. You thank the student and head down the old, familiar paths towards The Glen. You brush past the old, stone buildings you used to study in, each window black. For what feels like the first time, you see other people on campus, but they’re all at a distance, jackets pulled around their faces. No one turns towards you or acknowledges your presence, but you get the feeling that they’re watching you.

It’s a relief when you’re past the last building, it’s darkened windows behind you as you approach the path into the woods.

You look around for a group, but all you see is a note nailed to a tree. It reads:

“Dear Alumni, if you’re reading this, we’re already at the ropes course. If you know the Glen, feel free to find us. Otherwise, wait for the next Orientation Leader to arrive.”

So, what’ll it be?

A) Find your own way to the course.

B) Wait for an orientation leader.

“I heard you were back ;) wanna meet up at the spot for old times sake”

Your heart races. They remember you? Of course, you remember them — you remember the spot. How could you forget? All those hours spent talking, sharing, laughing… And the following Friday they were in the arms of someone else. You haven’t spoken in years, and why would you? You saw the wedding photos on Instagram and, even worse, the honeymoon. And yet, as you type your reply, you know that you can’t say no. You still think of those fleeting moments spent together when you close your eyes at night. You also wonder what would have happened… You were the closest of friends and then, one day, they just disappeared. Until now.

You grab your trusty flask– just in case — and head for the door, heart pounding.

You take off your boring winter coat and throw on your thinner, sexier jacket. Your cool jacket. Then again, you can hear the wind howling outside, and it was a chilly walking in. That said, you’ll definitely need to look cool. Which do you grab on your way out?

A) Stick with the warm, winter coat.

B) Grab the thinner, sexier coat.

Take out your own flask and offer it in exchange

Like clockwork, you procure your own flask, swap, and both take a long pull. You smile, the familiar burn of alcohol on your tongue — Templeton Rye — the same exact thing that’s in your flask. The same thing you’ve drunk ever since that first night together so long ago. They smile that big, wide grin that melts your heart to pieces even now. You couldn’t leave if you tried.

“Long time no see”

“That’s all you’ve got to say”

You re-exchange flasks, noticing yours is quite a bit weightier.

“You have plans for the evening?” you ask.

“If I had any, do you think I’d be here?”

You smile, falling right back into the same old comedic rhythms. But there is something you need to know. Something pressing. “So you’re married?”

“Was”

“Was?”

“Was”

“Divorced?”

“Dead”

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t be”

You offer your flask as a sign of condolence. It is greedily accepted.

“It was me”

“What do you mean?”

“It wasn’t cancer or some tragic accident, it was murder, and it was me”

The moonlight reflects off of that manic smile, the one you thought was hot as hell just a minute ago. You can hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears. Can this be true? Why? How? Do you even care? You’ve trusted them with everything before, but this feels different, somehow.

A) Run

B) Stay and hear the rest of the story

Stay and Listen to the Story

Look– they’re one of your oldest friends. And no matter what happened (or didn’t happen) between you romantically, you never thought they were a psychopath. They just weren’t interested in you like that. With a deep sigh, you look them right in the eye, give a smile you hope looks supportive, and ask, “what happened?”

The story that spills out isn’t pretty. Their partner was a real piece of shit — abusive, needy, and, in the end, murderous. And yet, your best friend was ready. They were never one to go down without a fight. And as they get to the climax of their story, you see a fire in their eyes that you’ve never seen before. A passion and drive, not just for life, but for you.

Their story is over, and there is no sound but your shared breathing, heavy and passionate. Their eyes are practically all you can see in the moonlight. Into you. They look at you in you that jacket. You can see their eyes running up and down your body. Can see their lips just starting to curl into a smile.

“I knew I could trust you with this.” They say, their breathing calm. “I needed to get it off my chest. And you’ve always been there for me.”

“Yeah…” you say, shifting closer.

“Always…”

They leap at you and, like that, you’re both tumbling through the grass — laughing, smiling, loving. It’s the only thing you’ve never done together, best friends finally becoming something more. Who cares that they murdered their last partner. Red flags are for suckers, and, for the first time in your life, that’s not you. Right?

YOU LIVED!

Try again?

Credits

Stay and Listen to the Story

The story that spills out isn’t pretty. Their partner was a real piece of shit — abusive, needy, and, in the end, murderous. And yet, your best friend was ready. They were never one to go down without a fight. And as they get to the awful climax of their story, you see a fire in their eyes that you’ve never seen before. A terrifying vengefulness. The beginnings, you realize with a deep unease, of a monster.

Their story is over, and there is no sound but your shared breathing, heavy and passionate. Their eyes are practically all you can see in the moonlight, the whites shining but the pupils dark. Staring right at you. Into you. They look at you in your dumb, frumpy winter coat, their lips curling into the slightest snarl.

“I knew I could trust you with this.” They say, their breathing suddenly calm. “I needed to get it off my chest. And you’ve always been there for me.”

“Yeah…” you say, starting to stand.

“Always…”

They leap at you, hands tightening around your neck with impossible speed and power. You can barely fight back, your arms stiff in the thick winter coat. And it’s in this dumb, ugly coat, neck snapped, that the rescue team finds you in the morning, all alone in the glen, a hand stuck luridly down your pants. They’d rule it an accidental suicide.

Tough one. Try again?

Credits

Wait for an Orientation Leader

Screw that — you aren’t going in alone. You pull your coat up over your neck and sit and wait. Off in the distance, deep in the woods, you hear a low, rumbling hum. It could be the ropes course, you think.

Or, says a small voice in your head, it’s The Butcher.

You shiver. It’s getting dark much too quickly you think. The clouds are getting thicker, heavier, blotting out the light. And still, no sign of a leader. Off in the distance, the warm glow of Fraternity row beckons — a chance to get out of the cold, at the very least. Behind you, the rumbling grows deeper, louder, like a low and insistent bass note from far in the woods. It’s clear no one is coming. So do you?

A) Find your own way to the course
B) Check out Fraternity Row

Take the Stage

You re-enter the party. The drinks haven’t stopped flowing. It’s turned into a full on grind fest, hormones raging like it’s the first high school dance all over again. Maybe not the best environment to interject in. But it’s now or never. You walk over to the DJ and ask him to turn off the music so you can perform the show you’ve just rehearsed for the last hour. He shrugs you off. You look back at Danica’s excited face, eager to perform, and reach into your heart (and wallet) and hand the DJ a $20. He thanks you, and continues DJing. You reach back into your wallet and grab a $100. He goes to grab it, you pull it away. “Music off”. The DJ takes a break. The party stops, and your fellow classmates look confused. You roll in the band gear from the teacher’s lounge, push a few cafeteria tables together to form a makeshift stage, and begin the show. Xavier uses a table lamp as a spotlight. Your classmates pay attention, for a minute or two. As the show goes on, they begin talking amongst themselves. This isn’t going as well as you thought it would. But you still get to kiss Danica at the end, don’t you? Quarterback Mike Johnston might have something else to say about that. He’s now a CEO, and would never want to miss a chance to upstage you. He hunts down the DJ and gives him $400 to turn the music back on. You try to push through, yelling out the lyrics you spent so many hours crafting over a pop song generated by an AI robot. But you can’t compete with technology. The crowd starts giggling, growing quickly into a raucous laugh. Your dreams drown quickly in a sea of embarrassment.

And not a pretty, death, either. Think you can do better?

Try to find an exit

Get us the hell out of here. The windows are glued together from years of smoke and unless you want to break both legs, which may be a viable option depending on what’s on the other side of the door. The ceiling it is. You push up on the ceiling tiles and boost yourself through. You’re sure Danica is super impressed with you right now. As you start to crawl a path towards freedom, you notice the ceiling start to sag. Unfixed water damage (those damn budget cuts). You start to back away, as if treading away from a rattlesnake. But this ceiling bites. You fall through, clipping the electric wire on your way down, electrocuting you instantly. At least it was a quick death. After your failed escape, the rest of the gang is locked in the conference room, undiscovered for a weekend. Which wouldn’t have been the worst thing, if not for the moldy tuna sandwich left in the back of the fridge from summer school. They contract black mold poisoning and die a slow painful death.

YOU DIED!

Sucks to suck. Try harder, next time.

Better to stay put.

Without power, there’s no way that giant oak door with the keypad is getting opened. THUD. Besides, you’ve taken a few karate classes. MOAN. If that thing on the other side gets in, you’ll get your chance to impress Danica. You hear some scratching on the door, and hold your breath as you sense a hand reaching down to the uncomfortably large gap between the floor and the door. Through the gap slides a note. Your hands tremble as you reach for the paper. This is not the kind of note you want to be reading in class. You unfurl it, and all that appears is a giant X in red. You gulp and back away from the door. WURR, the lights suddenly flash back on, temporarily blinding you. You hear the 4 digit code click, and the door starts to open. You imagine wearing your yellow belt as the sensei calls out Mae Geri, Gedan Age Uke! Hopefully, your front kick is as good as you remember it being. As the door opens, you let out a girlish scream a little too loudly to not be embarrassing. It’s just Xavier after all, trying to rejoin the group. You all hug and have a good laugh.

Join the group again