Hall of Heads
by Dan Efran (2012)
Genres: Horror


action: %
response: --and I stumbled backward, my throat deeply slashed, my life's blood draining away as I fell into darkness--

Track 11 of Apollo 18+20: The IF Tribute Album

--dark...and light...and...red...

...so red...

Shattered glass on polished marble; a spray of my reddest blood in a piercing shaft of moonlight. Beyond...I narrowed my eyes, straining to penetrate the darkness--

...busts...busted heads...heds on peds...headestals...

Losing blood fast, I tried to make sense of--

--rows upon rows of pale, lifeless, life-like busts of stately heads on fluted headestals, all different, yet oddly alike--
action: You look at what you're carrying with you
response: I was empty-handed.
action: About yourself
response: Searing pain, a red haze clouding my vision within and without: my throat slashed, my head nearly severed, I clung to life by the fraying cable of my will.
action: You examine the heads
response: The ranks of stately busts receded into the gloom in all directions. Those on the headestals nearest me appeared to depict the March of Progress: the headestal of a stern King was nearest to where I stood. To the left of the King's resting place, I saw a famous Prime Minister, stately and opulent, and beyond her a modern Head of State...and to the right, a scarred and tattooed Witch's head, and on the headestal beyond that primitive wise woman...an ape, some antediluvian chieftain.

The oddest thing, in a gallery of historical busts...all their eyes were closed.
action: You look at ape
response: The animal's face was creased with the unmistakable lines of wisdom and long duty: a sagacious sovereign from our race's distant, forgotten ancestry.

No.

These heads were pale, but not stone. Not busts. True heads, real, living heads, preserved in deathless stillness by some arcane
art.
action: You look at Witch
response: A shrewd and shriveled crone, her face scarred and tattooed with a pattern of dots and lines.
action: You look at the king
response: The pale king's grim visage betokened the rule of might.
action: You examine the head of the State
response: A determined, stately countenance.
action: You wear witch
response: (first taking the Witch's Head)
I moved to take the Witch's Head, but my legs gave way, and instead I tumbled to the floor, my skull striking something quite unyielding on the way down. My vision blurred and darkened--

...for the last time? I wondered...

--and then my senses slowly surged back, like a drowning ocean wave receding. A dull thump...something hard and round had fallen into my hands.
action: Inventory
response: I was carrying an Ape's Head.
action: About yourself
response: Searing pain, a red haze clouding my vision within and without: my throat slashed, my head nearly severed, I clung to life by the fraying cable of my will.
action: You describe your surroundings
response: Shattered glass on polished marble; a spray of my reddest blood in a piercing shaft of moonlight. All around were rows of pale, lifeless, life-like busts of stately heads on fluted headestals, all different, yet oddly alike. And at the periphery I could see one small doorway leading out.
action: You examine the heads
response: The ranks of stately busts receded into the gloom in all directions. Those on the headestals nearest me appeared to depict the March of Progress: I had fallen against the headestal of a stern King. To the left of the King's resting place, I saw a famous Prime Minister, stately and opulent, and beyond her a modern Head of State...and to the right, a scarred and tattooed Witch's head, and on the headestal beyond that primitive wise woman...a place even for an ape, some antediluvian chieftain.

The oddest thing, in a gallery of historical busts...all their eyes were closed.
action: You look at the door
response: One doorway leading out into...darkness.
action: You wear Ape
response: I put on the Ape's Head.

Somehow it seemed the right -- the only -- thing to do. I raised the pale head to my throat, nestled it in the gaping wound beside my own. At once I felt it seizing my flesh, drinking in my blood--

--an instant of crazy double vision...looking myself in the eye, before my weakening eyes fluttered shut at last--

--the old head falling like an autumn leaf, the blade barely needed, barely, barely--

--done all I could...the New Ones come--

A polished cave of the New Ones: silent tomb of living Deadfathers. Uncountable pale heads on little ivory menhirs. Blood and ice...no, glass...on the hard stone floor. A moon-hole above let in
fresh forest air, too.

The nearest menhir was streaked with blood where the stranger had fallen against it.
action: You examine the glass
response: A remnant of the shattered skylight: a long, curved shard of broken glass, like a dagger.
action: You examine the stranger
response: I knew him...

...no, the flicker of identification was gone. A stranger.

The head's agony was fading as its vitality ebbed.
action: Inventory
response: I was carrying a long shard of broken glass and the stranger's head.
action: You put the stranger's head on menhir
response: I put the stranger's head on the nearest menhir.

--slowly, the skin grew pale; the face relaxed. Now the stranger was one of us.
action: You examine the heads
response: Little ivory menhirs, like rows of tree stumps after a fire. Each with its Deadfather's Head. So many...and all of them New Ones.

All but me.
action: You look at the king
response: The pale king's grim visage betokened the rule of might.
action: You examine Witch
response: Oooo...!

It was her! My Star Pupil, my little New One successor.

She saved me...us...her crazy dream, she made it come true--
action: You examine the stranger's head
response: The stranger's head was pale and still.
action: You examine the head of the State
response: A determined, stately countenance.
action: About yourself
response: A second life! But wearing the body of a New One. No tail, no proper hinds...at least I still had my own face, my own eyes and teeth and mind!
action: You look at the blood
response: Blood dappled the floor, bright red in the white moonlight.
action: You examine the skylight
response: Just overhead, the broken moon-hole smelled of freedom.
action: Go up
response: I leaped for the moon-hole. In my own body it would have been easy; in this new body it was too far above me.
action: You exit
response: The doorway...smelled of worse troubles. Better not.
action: Smell door
response: The dark doorway smelled of worse troubles.
action: You climb the menhir
response: I got onto the nearest menhir.
action: Go upwards
response: I leaped from the menhir toward the moon-hole. I touched the ceiling easily...but much too far from the hole's rim.
action: You look around
response: A polished cave of the New Ones: silent tomb of living Deadfathers. Uncountable pale heads on little ivory menhirs. Blood and ice...no, glass...on the hard stone floor. A moon-hole above let in
fresh forest air, too.

The nearest menhir was streaked with blood.

On the nearest menhir was the stranger's head.
action: Go up
response: I leaped for the moon-hole. In my own body it would have been easy; in this new body it was too far above me.
action: You examine menhir
response: A little ivory menhir, streaked with blood.

On the nearest menhir was the stranger's head.
action: You go upwards
response: I leaped from my perch atop the blood-streaked menhir, easily caught the moon-hole's rim and swung myself up and out.

Dark shadows and bright moonlight; the little sounds and smells of freedom. From the hole leading down I thought I heard all those heads...the sleeping Deadfathers of my Longchildren... calling to me, please don't leave--
action: You listen
response: I thought I could hear those myriad heads quietly singing to me.
action: Go north
response: The forest called to me. I walked toward the dark trees...

--but after all, what more could I give out there? I led our race
out of the darkness...isn't that the glow of city lights beyond the trees? I've done enough.

I returned to the hole, and after a long last look at the trees, I climbed back down.
action: You remove the head
response: (the Ape's Head)
No. This body could not withstand another transfer so soon.

Not for a year...

...at least..
action: Yes
response: --and I stumbled backward, my throat deeply slashed, my life's blood draining away as I fell into darkness--

Track 11 of Apollo 18+20: The IF Tribute Album

--dark...and light...and...red...

...so red...

Shattered glass on polished marble; a spray of my reddest blood in a piercing shaft of moonlight. Beyond...I narrowed my eyes, straining to penetrate the darkness--

...busts...busted heads...heds on peds...headestals...

Losing blood fast, I tried to make sense of--

--rows upon rows of pale, lifeless, life-like busts of stately heads on fluted headestals, all different, yet oddly alike--
action: You take King
response: I moved to take the King's Head, but my legs gave way, and instead I tumbled to the floor, my skull striking something quite unyielding on the way down. My vision blurred and darkened--

...for the last time? I wondered...

--and then my senses slowly surged back, like a drowning ocean wave receding. A dull thump...something hard and round had fallen into my hands.
action: You put Ape on the headestal
response: I put the head on a nearby column.
action: You look at what you're carrying with you
response: I was empty-handed.
action: You wear King
response: (first taking the King's Head)
I tried to reach the King's Head, but I did not have the strength to move from where I lay.
action: About yourself
response: Searing pain, a red haze clouding my vision within and without: my throat slashed, my head nearly severed, I clung to life by the fraying cable of my will.
action: You look at the busts
response: The ranks of stately busts receded into the gloom in all directions. Those on the headestals nearest me appeared to depict the March of Progress: I had fallen against the headestal of a stern King. To the left of the King's resting place, I saw a famous Prime Minister, stately and opulent, and beyond her a modern Head of State...and to the right, a scarred and tattooed Witch's head, and on the headestal beyond that primitive wise woman...an ape, some antediluvian chieftain.

The oddest thing, in a gallery of historical busts...all their eyes were closed.
action: Go upward
response: I strained for the edge of the shattered skylight, but it was hopelessly beyond my reach.
action: You wear your head
response: (my original head)
I was already wearing that.
action: Doff head
response: (my original head)
I put my hands to my throat. The cord holding my head to my body seemed but a thread. Little enough blood and air could cross that gulf...best to make a clean break--

Then I can put myself on a pedestal, I thought with frantic
amusment, and see about putting a tourniquet around my neck! Wait, what am I forgetting--

--falling, tumbling--
action: Roll
response: (the long shard of broken glass)
Nothing obvious happened.
action: You cut Ape
response: Cutting that up would achieve little.
action: You take the glass
response: I picked up the largest shard of glass.
action: You cut yourself
response: I put the shard of glass to my throat. The cord holding my head to my body seemed but a thread. Little enough blood and air could cross that gulf...best to make a clean break--

Then I can put myself on a pedestal, I thought with frantic
amusment, and see about putting a tourniquet around my neck! Wait, what am I forgetting--

--falling, tumbling--
action: You wake king
response: That seemed unnecessary.
action: You take King
response: I moved to take the King's Head, but my legs gave way, and instead I tumbled to the floor, my skull striking something quite unyielding on the way down. My vision blurred and darkened--

...for the last time? I wondered...

--and then my senses slowly surged back, like a drowning ocean wave receding. A dull thump...something hard and round had fallen into my hands.
action: Inventory
response: I was carrying an Ape's Head.
action: You look at Ape
response: The animal's face was creased with the unmistakable lines of wisdom and long duty: a sagacious sovereign from our race's distant, forgotten ancestry.
action: You wear Ape
response: I put on the Ape's Head.

Somehow it seemed the right -- the only -- thing to do. I raised the pale head to my throat, nestled it in the gaping wound beside my own. At once I felt it seizing my flesh, drinking in my blood--

--an instant of crazy double vision...looking myself in the eye, before my weakening eyes fluttered shut at last--

--the old head falling like an autumn leaf, the blade barely needed, barely, barely--

--done all I could...the New Ones come--

A polished cave of the New Ones: silent tomb of living Deadfathers. Uncountable pale heads on little ivory menhirs. Blood and ice...no, glass...on the hard stone floor. A moon-hole above let in
fresh forest air, too.

The nearest menhir was streaked with blood where the stranger had fallen against it.
action: You take Witch
response: Taken.
action: You check your inventory
response: I was carrying a long shard of broken glass and a Witch's Head and the stranger's head.
action: You examine Witch 's head
response: It's Star Pupil, my little New One successor.
action: Attack witch
response: Never!
action: You take the heads
response: They were hardly portable.
action: You wear Witch 's head
response: No. This body could not withstand another transfer so soon.

Not for a year...

...at least..
action: You check your inventory
response: I was carrying a long shard of broken glass and a Head of State's Head, a Prime Minister's Head, a King's Head, a Witch's Head, and the stranger's head.
action: Look around
response: Dark shadows and bright moonlight; the little sounds and smells of freedom. From the hole leading down I thought I heard all those heads...the sleeping Deadfathers of my Longchildren... calling to me, please don't leave--
action: Look around
response: Hall of Heads (on the nearest menhir)
A polished cave of the New Ones: silent tomb of living Deadfathers. Uncountable pale heads on little ivory menhirs. Blood and ice...no, glass...on the hard stone floor. A moon-hole above let in
fresh forest air, too.