Quick Note: The perspective of the story will be changing from third-person to first-person of Red Fraggle, since I am tying this with another piece I was writing. I soon found out though that they acted literally like the same thing, so I combined them into one larger story, consuming the Red Fraggle first-person one into this one.
The rock never felt this quiet. A light wind that rushed through the tunnel seemed to amplify itself into the whistling wind found in a hurricane. A chill cast itself down the channel, encasing the limestone with an icy grip equivalent to glacial freeze. The sight of simple grey hues all around compounded the frigidity.
Most Fraggles would never attempt to venture through this mental wasteland, travelling away from those they shared their laughs with, those they shared their songs with, those they cared for the most. Gobo never appeared to be one of most Fraggles. He never felt any sense of extreme fear holding back anything he wished to accomplish. His inhibitions never carried him away from his sense of self-discovery.
That is what Mokey adored about him, and that is why she felt compelled to go with him wherever he went. To her, he was the epitome of all that she sought in a Fraggle. His bravery and his charisma compounded her own creative mind, making up for her lack thereof. Her mind could not let him go. As such, she attempted to stay at his side for as long as she possibly could.
"No, Mokey," he blurted out for the last time, a slightly annoyed tone pinching his voice, "you can't come with me to Whistling Caverns!"
"Gobo, please," she pleaded, "if you fall down the pit in the caverns, you'll fall forever. Gobo, I know you've gone on dangerous explorations before, but now you need to listen to reason! Gobo," her tone suddenly became more sullen, "if you fall, we…I…"
"Mokey, don't worry yourself over this," he replied, reassuringly. He placed his hand on her shoulder. In her mind, a warm sensation tingled down every nerve of her body, although she attempted to mask her emotions. All that she allowed to peak through was a small twinge-y smile, which appeared to be half forced. "The Whistling Caverns is nothing for a brave explorer like me. I've explored much more dangerous places. Remember that other time when I explored the Gorg's Castle that one night?"
"Gobo," Mokey retorted, sounding a bit confrontational, "Wembley came with you. He's not here this time. What if something bad happened to you, Gobo? Think about us!"
"Mokey, please." Gobo paused for a bit as he tried to collect his thoughts. Mokey, in his eyes, was acting irrationally again, similar to when she tried to deal with the trap set in front of the entrance to the Gorg's Garden. In his mind, he handled the situation then, so he should be able to handle it now. Think, Gobo, think, he pondered as his mind pulsated with mental images of different scenarios. Gentle, Gobo, gentle now. Remember how she takes things. All of a sudden, as if some other force decided to speak for him, Gobo blurted, "If you go, you'll put yourself in the same danger I'd be in. I'm doing this for your own safety, Mokey. If I thought you were ready, I'd let you come with me. But this isn't what you do. I'm sorry, Mokey."
"Gobo…" Mokey's sentence trailed off at that one word. Mentally, no thought could process into a logical sentence. She could not tell if she was hurt or relieved to hear the retort she received. With this knowledge, her mind simply blanked out.
"I'm sorry." He pivoted around and plodded forward. Each step he took acted like a pickaxe, chiseling out a piece of her soul until her heart was as empty as the echoes of the tunnel around her. Each echo reverberated, crashing back at her, clawing at her eardrum with the same ferocity as a nail scratching down slate. Her heartbeat felt as if it wound down like a tired animal after a cross-country chase that proved to be fruitless. A freezing sensation chattered up from her feet as she gazed at the grey rocks swallowing Gobo up into a shroud of blackness. Slowly the murky shadows swallowed his orange complexion up whole, consuming him into the caliginosity.
With that, he was gone. Off on one of his bold adventures, off exploring whatever took his fancy.
Off putting himself in peril, off putting himself at the mercy of whatever the rock, as dangerous or benevolent as it was, wanted to offer him.
Off leaving her all alone.
Her head slumped down, arching the back of her neck out. Slowly she folded her legs in and sat down on the rock floor underneath her, the rocks pressing their jagged edges into her mauve skin. Her mind moved the pain aside; her nerves were dulled to the pain. From the recesses of her now blank mind came the images of Gobo falling. In her scenario, he slipped on a lose rock or piece of wet moss; she couldn't make out what caused his slip. The moss or rock was situated on the bridge crossing The Whistling Cavern chasm, which left no room for any mistakes. As his feet ripped out from underneath him, his arms flailed in a natural reaction intent on saving him. It was to no avail, however, as he fell backwards away from the connecting bridge, his flailing arms working to do nothing but writhe in the air. Mokey's mind slowed the scene down as Gobo, in a last ditch effort, tried to wrap his tail around the crux of the natural bridge. Initially, his tail made purchase with the stone formation; it failed to hold for long, however, as his tail slowly gave way. Her mental image slowed down to a crawl as Gobo dropped off the bridge entirely, his body dropping down into the chasm, mouth dropped wide open crying for help that would never come, arms grabbing at the air hoping to magically latch onto the bridge, once again to no good resolve.
The scene then froze on that one frame. The image sank into the deeper recesses of Mokey's already troubled mind as she gazed at the still of her helpless friend apparently crying out to her in his hour of need; in the situation she was in, she felt as helpless as the poor Fraggle tumbling down to his own demise. A small, salty teardrop welled up in the edge of her eye, pooling together with other small teardrops to form into one larger one that began to gradually stream down her distressed face. At the tip of her nose, the tear streams welled up to form a larger drop. The drop then fell from the tip of her nose down onto the cave floor.
The plop it created was deafening.
Several hours passed by before Mokey's quaking legs were able to muster up any strength to allow her to stand. Slowly she rose up, her entire body feeling distantly numb aside from small pangs of pain from loose gravel that jabbed into her legs and butt. She paid it no mind; other things forcibly preoccupied her mind for the time being. Her body slowly became upright and oddly loose, her head still drooping under her shoulders, eyes watering. She slinked off back down the tunnels that lead to the Great Hall, creeping around like a shadow evading light, fearing if another Fraggle noticed her that she would need to justify her sadness.
It didn't take her long to return to the Great Hall, however, and her task of evading everybody became much harder. The Great Hall, as usual, was packed to the limit with Fraggles, all running, splashing, and dancing their cares away with no regard to the current world around them. This was the standard of Fraggle living: not a care in the world, nobody controlling anybody, all the time in the day devoted to merriment.
A happy anarchy.
Nothing that Mokey wanted to be a part of. Her mind locked itself in a vault of worries about her closest, dearest friend who wasn't a girl. Nobody could see her in this state; no Fraggle ever showed any care externally. Not in her sense anyway. She appeared to be a black sheep amongst a herd of white-furred, bushy sheep, the epitome of an outcast. Her mind however, did not let itself get precluded in that thought, instead seeking more thoughts on Gobo's current situation. Gradually her body began to shift towards the tunnel that lead away from the Great Hall and up to hers' and Red's room. If she's out swimming, I'm sure I'll get away from this, she lethargically thought.
Upon thinking this thought, her mind shifted between images of a foreboding darkness and to hers' and Red's room. The tranquility of her room drew her mind away from the images of her friend dropping down into an abyss rather quickly, instead filling her mind with peace. The comfort of the beg she slept in every night, the gentle light streaming into the windows from the morning Ditzie glow, the spiritual warmth her room gave her.
But the serenity was disturbed relatively quickly. Her body stopped moving in its straight path all of a sudden as if a brick wall seemed to all of a sudden jump out in front of her. The force of the impact pushed the breath out of her lungs as her body began to fall backwards as if being pulled by a bungee cord. The floor resounded with a thud as she smashed down and rolled backwards a small bit. Before she knew it, though, her inertia righted her into a sitting position, staring down at what hit her square on.
Red Fraggle. Out of everybody in the rock, she had to walk into Red. Why me? Mokey thought for a split second.
"Hey Mokey!" Red yelled. To Mokey, her voice was equivalent to a thousand out of tune violins, screeching at her rent conscience. "Next time, watch where you're going!"
"Red, I have no time for your jokes," Mokey murmured as she stood back up again. "Leave me alone." Mokey soon began to run off, head hanging low again. She rounded a corner down the next tunnel and vanished as if she never were there.
Red sat in awe at what just happened, mouth hanging open, speechless.