Tent Flap II
Gordon was all too aware that he was very likely trespassing. The approach to the vicinity was easy enough, but there were clear barriers between where he was and the tent which summoned him. “Fuck it,” he said. His mental demons trespassed without care, and he was going to confront them one way or another.
He parked his car in the shadow of the golem, a flippant dare if ever his mind saw one. But what was going to happen? Was the hulking figure going to take a stony shit on his car? No, he didn’t think so, but the image lodged in his mind all the same. He was chuckling as he walked toward the speedway.
Gordon was relieved that he didn’t have to actually breach the chain link fence. Not only was the razor wire some scary looking business, but he was pretty sure such an action would garner him some serious fines or worse. Staying on this side of the fence felt like any local authority might just run him off with a warning if they showed up. He had a handful of reasonable stories to support his odd behavior. He marveled at how swiftly the mind worked its nefarious doings.
He had followed the fence in his fugue and came upon the tent almost before he was ready. The wind seemed stronger now than it had when he left his car, the gusts teasing his hair into twisted spires. One brief pause and clench of the fists steeled him as he stepped with purpose into the muted glow.
The wind abated and he was left in silence. Even the drone of the passing thoroughfare dwindled to whispered notes in the trees. Gordon spun in place to scan the interior of the vacant tent, and as he faced the corner where he had seen the apparition, a gust of wind kicked up. The tent flap snapped toward him and the hefty grommet at the corner smacked against his left nut with whip-like precision. The core pain which rocketed through him crashed into his head and sundered his mind.