I was a teenager, staying in this massive mansion in the middle of the woods. It was based on my friend SD’s parent’s house but was quite a bit more mansiony. The people I was staying there with were all teenage punks. I got the distinct impression that there were no adults, that we were sort of squatting at this luxurious place, and it had a sort of Lost Boys (and Girls) feel. I also got the impression that something had happened in the outside world and while we were having fun at this punk mansion, we were also there as refugees from a world that we could not return to.
It was fun. We hung out, drank beers. There were male and female changerooms like it was the beach, but indoors. Entire rooms made of sheets and towels tied together like blanket forts. Maybe even there was a beach nearby (see later).
Of course, sometimes the outside world would come to us. Bandits on motorcycles, wolves. Each thing was crazier than the last. Probably the most interesting unwanted visitors were these alien soldiers. They had come and landed and confined us to certain areas of this mansion. I remember we were impressed with how organized they were, with their methodical patrols and the getting up so early in the morning every morning. We concluded they were space mercenaries. I remember trying to escape, sneaking through the greenhouse wing (a giant glass dome filled with plants and all kinds of walkway floors.
The final day at the mansion there was a quaking. Over the horizon we could see a massive creature, the size of a mountain, lumbering through the forest. It moved slowly and for the most part silently, only when it’s feet touch the ground did it produce a noise – and that was a massive shockwave that blurred the vision and could knock you entirely over. I had almost no concern for this monster even being able to perceive us. The problem was that in his wake, the world crumbled apart. Whatever forces that held it together were negated by the passage of this walking apocalypse. Walkpocalypse. Apwalkalypse? Walkalypse? Ragnawalk? Walknageddon? Shutupshutupshutup.
So the world is falling apart. Land becomes water. Cities crumble. Three of us are left. We’re adrift in boats for days on an endless ocean when our boats hit a shallow area that we didn’t see. It is shallow enough for us to stand, and we find that we are on a crescent shaped shallow. We have reached the edge of the world. The horizon stretches 360 degrees, but at least half of that is a curtain of misty illusion. Touching it causes it to shimmer. It is intangible. On the other side is a world of infinite darkness. Only one of us was brave enough to enter and recount what they saw on the other side. Firm land wasn’t compelling enough an offer to stay near that unsettling void. We sailed on.
Eventually we came across a floating platform that housed a post-apocalyptic society. The platform was made up of docks and rafts connected together to form streets that were lined with buildings. It was a dystopia though – you never felt safe walking the streets, fearing notice from authorities.