Note to Readers: This story is complete. There are a total of 4 parts which will be posted soon enough.

Part 2

After a quick freshening up, the father of the Cobb clan gives me some vague, fairly unhelpful directions and a small sack of food (which I still can't eat) before I set off. For a forest, the trails here are surprisingly well kept. Strange, really. I am about two hours into my journey when the crooked trees fan out around me and I find myself smack dab in the middle of a puzzle—a puzzle that one would never wish to solve. Well, fuck. Stemming out from my position there are half a dozen paths: the one behind me and another five striking off in random directions. I don't recall the Cobb's giving me any information about this particular joy. But I suppose it could be worse. At least each direction has a sign. I swivel my head around and sure enough on the sign behind me reads: 'For Cobb, this way.'

Now let's see here. What about these other signs? 'Wanderers beware—Time is running out.' You have to be kidding me. I move to the next one. 'The king lives in his castle of blood and tears.' I can feel my eye twitch. Alright. How about the one next to it? 'Make one's way to the mushroom house.' Groaning, I move to the final two. 'True love's kiss is right this way.' And finally, 'Be wary travelers at the sea.' A ha! This one must be it. The kids' song mentions the sea. By logical deduction, this has to be it. I follow the sign and stroll in that direction, nearly smiling all the while. I will figure this out. I just have to keep moving forward.

"Arthur, Arthur, Arthur," I hear a voice tsk me from above. How the hell does this woman get herself up these trees in that dress? "Yet again you're going the wrong way. You haven't been paying attention to the signs have you?" Those senseless things? It's not that I haven't, it's that they aren't very helpful. To iterate this thought, I give her a slightly annoyed look and wait for her to respond. When she sees my expression, she laughs.

"Do you honestly think I'm that easy to decipher, Arthur? Now really, be reasonable." The grin she gives me is wide and all consuming, as if it would swallow her face whole. "However, since you are apparently in desperate need of my assistance, here's a little rhyme to help you pass the time: Down the winding track I walk, with gilded mouth and eyes of coal; Take me down, past the sea, for only one path can set me free." She pauses for a moment and then says, "Well, what do you think?" Hmm, let me guess, the whole rhyme was about me?

"Oh, don't be such a grouch, dear. I'll give you another rhyme to play with sometime. Until then though, enjoy your journey! Oh, and Arthur, be a dear for me and try not to die." I'll try to do that, thanks. "Ciao!"

In a blink of an eye she has disappeared yet again. Can't say I'm too upset by it. Her remarks are rather disturbing in all honesty. Although I am quite curious as to how she disappears like that. Must be some sort of illusion. Or maybe it's just because this is a dream. Well, maybe. Sometimes it's hard to decipher the difference. I feel real enough. My thoughts, my actions—all of them are made by reason and logic and not by a random cropping of events and memories as dreams are. Very intriguing indeed.

It is hours later and the sun has yet to set. In fact, it appears to be growing rather than decreasing. Shouldn't it be nighttime by now? Regardless of the sun I have reached the beach and what do you know, right when the road ends and the beach begins there is a mansion (probably three times the size of the Cobb home and that's quite a remarkable feat). Yet, this begs the question of how do I approach this situation? I could merely walk through the front door and hope for the best. I snort at the mere idea. I think not. I'll have to peek in through each window individually and try to make a vague mental map of the house before cracking one open and sneaking in. "Who might you be, young sir? Come to see the Duke have you?" Shit!

I swirl around to find a large, older man dressed in a dark suit and standing much too close for comfort. How he got so close to me without my noticing is utterly baffling. When I don't respond, he says, "Well boy are you coming inside or not? The Duke doesn't like to be kept waiting." I wanted a way into the house. I suppose I have it, even if this isn't going quite according to plan. I step aside to allow the man to pass, but even after a good five seconds he will not budge. "Go on. Don't make me force you."

I snort and turn towards the house. Alright then, I guess my choices are rather limited here. I head towards the house, my whole body tensed. Now that I know he's behind me, I can't shake the bit of uneasiness settled in my belly. When we reach the door, I cannot help but hesitate as I grab hold of the handle. Despite my unease, I open the door regardless. I don't know what exactly I was expecting when I stepped inside. However, I can say without a doubt that it wasn't this. On every inch of every wall are paintings, paintings of the same little boy—the same bright blue eyes, the same mousy brown hair, even right down to the same two dimples on his cheeks. And here I was thinking that the Cobb's were exaggerating.

"Down the hall and to your right." Alright, alright. I'm going.

I walk down the hallway and turn. WHAT? This is absolutely ridiculous. Someone is clearly pulling my leg here. This frail old man? He kills children? Surely this is some sort of prank. Old Man Fischer, or should I say, the Duke, is reclining in a tall wing-backed chair. His hair is a tangle of receding grey splotches and his is body hunched over. Frankly, it appears as though he could fall dead at any moment.

"Tell me, son," he croaks in a soft whisper, "has your journey been pleasant?" I nod hesitantly. "Good. I know what it is you want, and my response is 'no'." How the hell—you know what, never mind. Everyone around here clearly knows everything there is to know about me. It's truly not all that peculiar in the grand scheme of things. "Unless of course, you can solve my riddle." I resist the urge to roll my eyes. But of course. Why wouldn't there be a riddle? "You have exactly thirty minutes to solve the riddle. If you don't then you shall be kicked through the door."

Kicked through the what? And where? "If you go through the door, you shall be tossed out onto a random trail and never return here." Okay, that's not too bad. It could be worse. You could just have your employees kill me outright and then eat me up along with the children. I have to say I much prefer the door option. I nod my head in agreement with his deal. When he sees the movement he smiles. The grin that is spread on that old, wrinkled face is one I will never forget. It is like looking into the face of a demon and knowing that they are looking straight back at you. I repress a shudder as I wait.

"There are three doors," he coughs out. "One leads to freedom, one leads to hope, and one leads to happiness. Which do you chose?"

Oh just great. Okay, this was definitely not something I anticipated. The riddle, if one can even call it that, is not really a riddle at all. It is a personal quest, a personal choice, for you cannot live without all three. You need hope to find freedom from others and one's self. You must have freedom to find happiness, for without freedom you can be no more than content. And happiness is the necessary goal for the other two to be relevant. It is a circle really. So you can't choose just one. Or can you?

He gives out a ragged chuckle. "Browning, go retrieve the tall one will you? I no longer require her services." The tall one? Seeing my curious look, he smirks. "You can have something to look at while you think."

Browning turns without a word and walks away. I am left standing alone with the Duke who just sits there and smiles at me. I won't lie to myself—there is a part of me, albeit a slim part, who would very much like to strangle that old man. I mean, he's a cannibal, and besides, he's plenty old enough that by the time his bones reach the grave they'll have disintegrated anyways. However, call it intuition, but I have a strong feeling that Browning's suit conceals more than just a body. In fact, it is almost a guarantee that he is armed. The moment he stepped back in here would be the moment I'd receive a bullet to the brain.

Minutes pass. Who knows how long I've been standing here. I should be trying to solve the riddle, yet the side of me currently in control wants to know who is coming. "Ah, there she is," he mutters. I turn. My eyebrows scrunch downwards in a scowl. What the hell kind of trick is this? That girl is far from being a child. Small and tiny, yes, but she can't be younger than 16. In fact, I would guess her to be 18.

"She's my child in everything but blood. She helps me care for the little ones until they're ready." To eat? Oh Christ. I resist the urge to cover my mouth, but just barely. "But she is getting old and soon she will wish to leave me. If you solve my riddle, she shall accompany you on your journey." But I was supposed to get one of your babies, not this practically full grown woman. I did not agree to this! Frowning at Old Man Fischer, I point at the girl and then push my hand towards the ground. "Boy, you will take her or none at all, you hear?" Despite his leathery voice, the words still carry the threat. So I either take her or get shot in the head. Personally, I chose life thank you very much. I give a curt nod to agree. But I'm not pleased Old Man. Not one bit.

Browning steps towards me and holds out a sheet of paper and a pen. "For after you've picked your answer," he says.

At least this solves one problem. I take the opportunity to sit down and rethink through the riddle. Freedom, hope, and happiness. For whom exactly? For what purpose? This riddle is very incomplete, not to mention it has quite an expansive scope. Such simple words really; nevertheless, they can cover so many situations.

"Arrtthhurrr!" Fuck! Don't do that! I whip my head around and find the girl kneeling next to me. Her soft brown eyes bore into mine and a bright smile is spread on her cheeks. "Ouch, those look like they hurt. It's too bad about that, really." I cock my eyebrow at her. Nevertheless, she takes no heed and continues to blabber on. "The Duke has been getting on my case for days. He's been waiting and waiting for you to show up. It sure did take you long enough." Hey, I've only been awake for one fucking day! Anything that happened before then…well, it isn't really my concern. "You have no idea how excited he is to be rid of me. I'm too old for his…appetites…yet I'm young enough to be like a daughter to him. Really though, I just annoy the shit out of him. Or so I've been told." Really? I cannot imagine why. "So what's the riddle? The Duke loves riddles." I look over at her completely askance. "Oh yeah, that's right. Sorry. I wasn't thinking." It's fine, it's fine. Whatever. Here, I'll write it out for you. I rip off part of the page and quickly scribble the words out for her. "Hmm…I see."

I flip over the ripped paper over and write out, 'The answer to this is circular, for the element behind each door requires the others to survive. It's perplexing.'

"Not really. Not when you think about it. Have you considered that the answer isn't a door?"

Umm, what? 'What do you mean?' I write.

"This is a riddle. It isn't a question. You say the argument is circular, then your answer must be awesome. It's like that old question, 'Did the chicken come before or after the egg?' The answer is neither. Therefore, your answer must be circular as well."

That…makes far more sense than it should. I could almost hug you for that. The answer is not a door. The answer is circular. The answer is not what you would expect, but rather what explains the problem. It is not a direct answer, but rather an explanation. If that's the case, then let's try something like this, 'A rope once twined cannot be unraveled.' I push the paper towards her and she gives me a bright smile. Alright then, let's give this a try. I've got nothing to lose. I push myself off the ground and step over to the Duke's chair. Handing over the sheet of paper, I swiftly take a step back. The less time I have to spend near him the better. He skims over the paper and smirks. Well shit.

"Interesting," he whispers. "Very interesting indeed." Interesting, nonetheless incorrect? "I shall accept this answer. I would have also accepted happiness." My eye twitches and I glance over at the girl with a scowl. So why is it 'happiness'? And if that was the answer, then why did you accept my response? This doesn't make a lot of sense. "You are free to go. And take the girl with you. I am no longer in need of her assistance." Tilting his head to the side, he lets out a hacking cough. How is this man still alive? "Browning, escort them outside please."

I would like more information; however, at this point I don't really give a shit. I just want to get the hell out of here. I follow Browning back down the hall and towards the front door. The girl trails behind me, humming all the while. "Oh Arthur," she squeals "we are going to have so much fun!" For some reason, I doubt it.