It totally agree about those void traps being cruel and unusual, which is why when I find them I have been dropping them into that old well in the woods.

"Hey! Are you sure those are empty?"

It was @Basilton Pitch, hanging around the edge of the clearing around the well.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"Not much," he replied. "Just observing from afar." He said he was a former student at the International Institute of Not Doing Much so not doing much came naturally to him. "But you need to check those traps before you throw them into the well."

"Check them for what?"

"In case they've got people in them! You've got to shake them around a little and if you hear any banging or yelling then they've got people stuck in them on accident."

"Oh I didn't know."

I must have thrown a dozen traps down that well.

"Also," he added, "see how the ground is kind of torn up around here? Like a path? Well those aren't pebbles, they're pixels. So don't step there."

I hadn't really noticed the ground being torn up either.

"Hey want to go to the Spoon Bender for some spiced agaric tea?" I asked.

"Sure," he said.

And so we did.

While I have not been able to find any more of those terrible void traps, I have become concerned about the missing students that I might have thrown down that well. 

@Basilton Pitch says that it is very comfortable to be in a void trap and that it is a magical place where all your needs are taken care of. I think it must be a very nice place but are they not missing their other friends and family that were not also caught in the void traps with them?

Somehow I can’t help but feel somewhat responsible. 

Hey there’s a special on spiced cider and Christmas Nut tonight only at the Spoonbender  who wants to meet me there?

Some people accuse me of being unaware of my surroundings. But that's just because these surroundings are so boring!

I like the way things taste. And smell. That doesn't mean I go around licking lamposts and rocks, but it's how I see the world.

There are places where the psychic landscape is dark and corrupt, and I can tell them by the smell. I try and avoid those places.

But right now I sense one very close. It smells like grease, and rotting fruit, and urine.

Oh ooops! No that's just the dumpster behind the HandyMart.

The town is pretty dead this time of year, which makes it a perfect time to practice forgetting about the illusory visual world and concentrating on the olfactory! 

The seagulls and the crows in town know it too. And if you follow them they can lead you all kinds of places.

And with everything laid bare, in Winter, the smelliest can really dominate the landscape. 

Which led me back to the dumpster behind the HandyMart.

It was the smell of The Beast.

“Hello Beast!”

“Hello Little Girl.”

“How are things going, Beast?”

“The same old grind, Little Girl. And you?”

“Do you know anything about @Quinn Meadows, the dead boy buried by the old well?”

“I do not. The dead do not interest me.”

“What about a certain pastrami Reuben in the vicinity?”

“I know just the place. Near 5th and Main. Little deli.”

“Mmmmm. Can’t wait. Thanks!”

“Always a pleasure Little Girl.”

I don’t know what I think about dead boys. 

Number one, yes, there’s an odor. But it really depends on the dead boy in question. “As in life, so beyond the salt,” as they say. Some are kind of spicy in a gingerbread way, but some are just plain rotten. 

I only started smelling @Quinn Meadows after I had been to the old well, disposing of those nasty void traps. The void traps might have had people in them but let’s not talk about that. 

Let’s talk about unburying Quinn Meadows. 

It was easy to find the new soft dirt patch near the weird old tree so I started digging with my camping shovel. Unburying boys is hard work! They bury them very deep. Luckily there was plenty of moonlight. 

I was careful not to puncture Quinn, and when I got him loose I pulled him out of his grave. 

“Hello Quinn Meadows!” I said. 

He was very groggy. 

“Hey high five!”

I lifted Quinn’s arm up and let it fall to the ground with a thump.

“Staring contest!”

I stared at Quinn’s closed eyelids. 

For a long time. 


Then Quinn Meadows opened his eyes and looked at me. 

He smelled great. 

“Hey let’s get you a hot Dr. Pepper at the Spoonbender!” I said. 

And so we did. 

Dead boys are heavy. Much heavier than live boys. 

At first I wasn’t sure what kind of dead boy @Quinn Meadows was. Did you know some dead boys don’t move at all? How does that song go?

At the Zombie Dance
Nobody moves
They tap their toes
Yeah, wiggle their ears to get in the groove

Ok so they move a little. But by the time I got Quinn dragged up to the Spoonbender and propped up in a booth he was VERY muddy, and looked very dead. But he still smelled nice.

"Mmmmmarg..." he mumbled. 

"Yes Quinn?"

"Mmmm...Mmmmm..."

People were starting to stare.

"Mmmmmmmmmy this hot Dr. Pepper is delicious!" exclaimed Quinn.

Maybe they did no have hot Dr. Pepper back in the 2000s when Quinn died?

I do not know much about what life was like back then. Only that it was the heyday for the emo kids you read about in history books, so that's cool.

Anyway, after Quinn perked up I showed him where the gym was so he could take a shower and where the administration building was so he could properly enroll and get a dorm room and not have to sleep in dirt any more.

But now that song is stuck in my head!

Ok so everybody knows about the cosmic background radiation. Which is really old, and I won’t pretend I can smell that. But there is a background smell that you can pick up on. Beyond the “oh I’m in the woods smell the pretty pine” or “oh I’m in a really old city and you can smell the sewage and the heat in the concrete.” 

In our case, I’m afraid it’s “oh this place is fucked” kind of smell. That “burnt metal reek of nova” as the bard put it. Like there’s a doom that’s already happened in the future and we can smell it from here. A prearranged bankruptcy of death and destruction where the managers and CEOs have already paid for their escape while they sell the rest of civilization down the river. 

I try not to let it bother me. 

“Hello Little Girl.”

I find myself back at the dumpster behind the Handy Mart. 

“Hello Beast,” I say. “Do you ever figure it’s all pointless? What are we even doing here?”

The Beast is used to my most existential complaints. And he isn’t part of the Nova Mob. He’s as much a part of the Earth as any of us could hope to be. And he has as much to lose. More, maybe.

“Well, Little Girl,” says the Beast. “It’s easy to follow the herd. Their scent lines, their trails. You can follow them right to the ovens. But you’ve got a sensitive nose. Smell around them.”

“Yeah, except time. And destiny,” I say. 

“Their notion of time IS their smell. Smell something different.”  

“Hmmm,” I say. “Say isn’t that a fresh baked cookies smell coming from the St. Christina Bakery?”

“Indeed it is, Little Girl.”

“Bye Beast!”

“Always a pleasure Little Girl.”

I keep hearing the voices. They are coming from the place in the woods with the old well but I do not think they are more dead boys like @Quinn Meadows because I cannot smell them.

I think they they are what I do not like to think about which is the students that may have been in the void traps I threw down that well!

So far they are named @skyler and @Cleetus and what if there are more and more?

So I did what my smelly old grandpa always said I had to do which was “settle my gumption” and “face the facts” and I made an enchanted tin can telephone and lowered one end far far down into the well and strung the string through the trees and up to my dorm room on the second floor of Albert Hall and now it is like an intercom into the void.

This way I can be cozy and drink good smelling tea and take notes while I listen to my void radio.

I really lucked out with my tin can telephone to the void. When I lowered it into the well it must have landed right on top of one of those traps. Good thing they float! Anyway I can hear what’s going on inside almost perfectly would you like to hear it here it is:

“Well somebody should go. Me, you, maybe @Cleetus.”

“Doesn’t Cleetus’s head still hurt?”

“Ok, maybe not Cleetus. But some kids will come with us. They’re getting antsy.”

“The rest?”

“They still think somebody’s going to save us. But there’s one door here, and if we want to find our own way out then it’s the only place to start.”

“Seems like we’ve been down here forever.”

“Maybe we have. Time dilation, who knows?”

“Yeah, you’re right. Let’s do it now. No use putting it off any further.”

“I’ll let the others know. Grab your stuff.”