Note 1 - This is based of of Mazapan's game "You Have to Burn the Rope."
Note 2 - Any literary pompousness or undue depth to be found within the following text is utterly intentional. Play the game to understand how epic it is.
Note 3 - This is only labeled "fiction" because of several factual embellishments found in the original game; the story is, in essence, true to real life.
You Have to Burn the Rope:
The Artist: Burk
The floor was rough. It stared upward with a burning look, that dark, primordial knowledge that one is being watched, pierced from some unknown angle by impossible eyes. Hewn stone gazed inward from all around. The rigid and dank cloud in the Hero's mind, so much an ironic beast to him, would not rise, would not dissipate; even as his mind drifted in and out of lucidity, he laughed to himself in a fleeting dream of conscious review: my own clouds I have hewn in twain, and yet this one, newly wrought, deigns to pas