THE RABBIT

One day, there will be a hallway. 

It will not be very hard to find. In fact, you’ll be certain you’ve seen it before. Maybe more than once. Maybe it came to you in a dream, or was buried in a childhood memory. Maybe it’s been here all along. 

You’ll never be certain of where it started, but one day, there will be a hallway. 

One day, your footsteps will fall on the well-worn path that is that hallway and it will feel so familiar that you will be comfortable. You won’t be able to say how many times you’ve walked on that carpet, those stones, the hardwood, or tiles. You won’t be able to know. 

Some will say the hallway is in a hotel, with strange abstract paintings on every wall and patterns etched into a carpet you wouldn’t find anywhere else. Others will say that it is a palace, with sweeping rooms and endless secrets, tall stone walls and cold floors. 

You will be confused by these sentiments. You will have walked that path and you won’t be able to say how many times, but you will never call it a hotel or a palace. You’ll never call it anything. 

There will be a hallway, but you will have no name for it. 

One day, you will come to a door. It won’t be at the end of the hallway, because you’ll never be certain of where the hallway ends. But the hallway will have a door. Maybe many doors. Maybe they will have numbers or big brass knockers. Maybe some will be locked, maybe some will have no door knobs at all. But this door will have a door knob and it will yield easily to your careful touch. 

You will let that door swing open and you will step into a dark room. This is inevitable. 

You won’t be afraid. After all, you have been in this hallway many times, although you will never be able to say how many. It will feel so familiar that you will feel comfortable. When you let that door swing open, you won’t hesitate before stepping into that dark room. You will see no reason to be afraid. 

The room will be dark, but you will be able to see. This will not surprise you, and you won’t be afraid. You will take as many steps into the darkness as is necessary before the door behind you disappears. This too, will not surprise you, though you’ll never be certain why. 

You will sit, maybe cross-legged on the floor or maybe on an old folding chair. You will feel as if you are in the centre of the room, though this will not be true. 

You will wait. Maybe you will close your eyes, but it is more likely that you will just stare. There will be nothing to stare at for a very long time. You won’t be able to say how long.

Eventually, a small rabbit will appear in front of you. This will not surprise you, and you will see no reason to be afraid. The rabbit will look at you with wise eyes and you will feel at ease. 

The rabbit will speak to you. This, of course, will not surprise you. Most things won’t. 

The rabbit will tell you stories and will answer your questions. You will have many questions, and the rabbit will answer all of them. You will spend a very long time with the rabbit, though you won’t be able to say how long. You will never ask for the rabbit’s name, and it will never tell you what it is. 

It will never tell you that it calls itself Truth, but you will know. Maybe not consciously, but some part of you will know. You will never ask about it, but you will believe it. 

Eventually, you will stand and thank the rabbit for its wisdom. It will bow or twitch its whiskers, or do whatever it is that rabbits do. You will leave it in the dark room and you will return to the hallway. 

One day, you will return to that room. It will not be very hard to find. In fact, you’ll be certain you’ve seen it before. Maybe more than once. It will feel so familiar that you will be comfortable, and you will greet the rabbit like an old friend before sitting comfortably in your well-worn seat in the place that is not the middle of the room. 

You will never be able to say how many times you’ve sat in that room. You won’t be able to know. But you will keep returning, day after day, and you’ll never be certain why. 

The rabbit will speak to you. It will tell you magnificent stories, and they will make your head spin and your stomach churn. Sometimes it will speak in a hushed whisper and you will have to lean forward to hear its sage advice. Other times, it will shout its words so loudly that you will consider running away. 

You will never try. 

You will keep returning, day after day, and the rabbit will speak to you. It will make you ill and it will make you feel safe. It will make you hate yourself and it will make your skin burn. It will fill you with pride, it will make you ache for love, and it will make your heart burst with shame. You will trust it unconditionally, and it will love you and it will pity you. 

You won’t notice that, as the days go on, it will look less and less like a rabbit. 

You will simply keep returning, day after day. And although you’ll never be certain why, the reason will be simple: the rabbit will speak to you, and you will trust it unconditionally. 

You won’t notice that, as the days go on, that dark room will feel more familiar than the well-worn path that is that hallway. You won’t notice that the darkness will get thicker, or that the rabbit’s eyes will get brighter. You won’t notice how shiny its many wise eyes will be, or how thick and bloated its pupils will become. You will trust it unconditionally, and you will see no reason to be afraid. It will love you, desperately, and it will pity you. 

It will continue to speak to you, in ancient, eldritch tongues you shouldn’t possibly be able to understand. It will take your breath away. It will make you cry and it will stare at you with a thousand eyes. It won’t let you sleep and you will beg it to answer your questions. It will answer with soothing orders, and you will obey it. You will tear yourself apart and you will see no reason to be afraid. After all, it will make you feel at ease. It will make you ill and it will make you feel safe. 

You will return, day after day, until you have to drag your aching, bleeding body down that hallway. The door will drift open without being touched, and you will crawl to the place that is not the middle of the room.

The thing that is not a rabbit will be waiting for you and it will judge your movements with the eyes of a thousand. It will love you, desperately. But more importantly, it will pity you. 

It won’t stop speaking to you. And by this point you will know that, and you will believe it. Maybe you’ll never be certain why. 

But one day there will be a hallway. You will have no name for it, but it will always be there. There will be a dark room. There will be a thing that is not a rabbit, and it will speak to you. Sometimes it will fill you with pride and sometimes it will make you hate yourself. It will call itself Truth, but this is not its name. It will make you feel at ease and you will see no reason to do anything other than trust it unconditionally. But it will make you tear yourself apart, and it will never stop speaking to you. 

The thing that is not a rabbit will love you, in the most desperate way, and it will pity you. It will wear a facade of wisdom and it will try to fix you. It will judge you with the eyes of a thousand and it will tell you distorted truths and soothing orders. 

And you will make a decision. 

Maybe you will obey it. You will tear yourself apart, even if part of you sees reason to be afraid. And you will bleed on the floor of that room with the soft, choking cover of darkness to carry you into a restless sleep.

Or maybe, you will simply listen. You will thank the thing that looked quite like a rabbit for its wisdom. You will understand that it loves you, and wants to fix you. But you will also recognize that it is not Truth, and it cannot be trusted unconditionally. You will return again to that dark room and you will greet the being like an old friend. You will sit in your well-worn seat that is neither in the middle of the room, nor in the only room of that hallway. On some days, the rabbit’s words won’t seem to matter as much as they did before. 

And maybe, on some days, you will come to that door and simply walk past.