Park 3

 It had been half an hour since the two friends had left the alley. Now they were surrounded only by trees, bushes, and, of course, fog. They were already certain this wasn't the same park they knew. Czarek was completely panicked, constantly whining, almost crying that

he wanted to go home, that he'd had enough of it all. What irritated him was that his friend didn't show the same fear as he did. Paweł walked upright, with a calm gait and a pensive expression. Truth be told, he was scared too. Scared as hell. Yet he tried his best to keep his composure. He knew panic wouldn't help them get out of here.

"Where the fuck have you gotten us?" Czarek groaned. "It was your idea. Your fucking idea to come here. It'll be like the horror movies, you said. And look, it fucking came true!" he said, his voice trembling with accusation. He ground the last sentence through his teeth.

"Okay, okay, that's the fifth time you've told me that." Shut your mouth and think about how we can get out of here.

"We'll never get out of here. There's no way out." He lowered his head and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.

"Thanks, you've been a huge help," Paweł muttered.

Czarek didn't reply, just continued walking, staring at the toes of his heavy leather boots.

For a few minutes they wandered in silence again, passing more trees and bushes. It seemed as if they were no longer in a park, but in a forest. There was no sidewalk in sight, let alone a bench or lamppost.

Paweł walked ahead, trying to see anything through the obscuring fog, and Czarek trailed a few steps behind him. He still glanced at Paweł every now and then.

Surprisingly, his fear began to slowly fade. Slowly, it was replaced by a cool calculation. Paweł was walking too calmly, almost carefree. He looked as if he knew this place. He didn't look scared at all. Not at all. What's more, he was simply whistling to himself. That son of a bitch is whistling merrily! Like it was the most ordinary fucking stroll of his life. Czarek understood everything. This was some sick joke of his. Him and that fat Marek, who was probably sitting somewhere nearby, well hidden, laughing his ass off. Fury boiled inside him, but he quickly suppressed it. He couldn't show that he'd seen through their game. He'd teach them a lesson. He'd teach them so much that they'd remember him forever. But he had to come up with a plan. He didn't stand a chance against Paweł, who had always been so much taller and better built than him. And besides, that fat guy might be lurking somewhere. He'd have to play it safe. He smiled broadly to himself.

Paweł, of course, couldn't know what his friend was thinking. Besides, he wasn't thinking about it at that moment. He wasn't walking as confidently as Czarek had seen, and he certainly wasn't whistling merrily. What's more, although he didn't show it yet, he felt the last vestiges of common sense beginning to desert him, and he was increasingly succumbing to the fear that was gripping him. Now he knew how the characters in the movies he loved to watch felt. It was one thing to sit on the couch in front of the TV with a bag of chips and a bottle of beer, watching someone in trouble, than to actually find himself in it.

He would have preferred a run-in with the thugs a hundred times over. They'd probably beat them up, but at least it wouldn't be anything out of the ordinary. And the situation he found himself in now was undoubtedly the strangest thing he'd ever experienced. He felt like he was in a dream.

He sighed and lowered his head. Czarek, who had been watching him the entire time, interpreted this reflex as a hidden chuckle.

He grimaced in rage. So he was right. In his mind, all the pieces were already falling into place to form an answer. It was all a setup. They were playing some sick joke on him. Like in one of those old movies he'd once watched. He couldn't remember the title anymore, but it didn't matter. What mattered was that in that movie, a bunch of kids had just come up with the idea to play a similar sick joke on their friends. Of course, the fact that it was just a joke wasn't revealed until the very end. In Czarek's mind, at that moment, the very existence of such a movie was a fundamental argument for them playing the same prank on him.

He brushed back his long hair, which had fallen in front of his face, and flashed his teeth in a grim smile. "Do they think this is a movie? Ha! I'll show them an unexpected twist! It'll teach them respect."

Czarek's smile widened. He had to stop himself from laughing. "

Too bad I don't have an axe," he thought.

He dimly realized the absurdity of his own reasoning. But he pushed the thought aside, ignoring it completely. Anger replaced fear within him, and he liked the exchange. Just that strange feeling in his head. As if his brain had suddenly begun to think without his involvement. He felt a torrent of thoughts and echoes of voices bouncing around his skull, and he was dimly aware they weren't his. Still, he didn't care at all. He was devising a plan. Admittedly, it wasn't very complicated. He planned to kill Marek and Paweł and then return home. He didn't know what he would tell Michał when he asked why he'd returned alone. He didn't worry about that. He'd figure something out. Now, the most important thing was how to take care of these two.

He looked around. His attention was caught by a massive, thick branch lying about a meter from his left leg. He bent down and picked it up. He weighed it in his hand for a moment, then tightened his grip and started after Paweł. When he was right behind him, he swung

it wide. Then Paweł turned.

"Come on, don't—" He didn't get a chance to finish because Czarek swung the branch with all his might, slamming it right into his face. The impact shattered his nose. Even in the darkness, he could see the blood spurting out. His head snapped back like a punching bag, and he fell to the ground. He writhed and groaned. He held his face, red blood dripping from between his fingers. Czarek watched, fascinated. He felt like a passive spectator. As if he were sitting in a movie theater, watching a movie. He looked calmly at his friend, who was now writhing on the ground, clutching his bleeding face.

"What are you doing?" Paweł wanted to ask, but all he managed to do was wheeze. The last vestiges of common sense in Czarek's head had just set off a siren and desperately pleaded with him to calm down. It was as if from the very depths of his mind that he was about to kill his friend. For a moment, he seemed unable to decide what to do. But then his eyes went blank again, and he swung again. The branch fell with a soft crack onto Paweł's head and broke on it. Then he began kicking him in the ribs with his heavy boots. Finally, he delivered a powerful kick to the head. Czarek didn't even notice he'd been smiling the entire time. Paweł finally froze. Czarek nudged him a few times with his boot, but the man didn't react. Driven by some incomprehensible, cruel impulse, he swung the broken branch and drove it straight into the man's stomach. He didn't react to that either. Apparently, that last blow had already killed him. Blood was leaking from where the broken branch had protruded. He stared at the scene with growing astonishment and understanding. It dawned on him that he had just killed his friend. He wanted to scream, but only groaned helplessly. He began to tremble. The impulse that had driven him a moment ago, that strange pressure in his mind that had told him to do what he had done, now vanished.

"Fuck," he groaned pitifully and crouched down beside his friend. "What have I done?" he stated rather than asked.

Laughter answered him. He jumped to his feet and tried to locate the source. The malicious cackle continued, but slowly faded. Only after a moment did Czarek realize it was coming from inside his head. When he realized this, the laughter erupted with redoubled force for a moment, then faded away completely. Then Czarek himself began to laugh. He howled until he was head over heels, bent over, clutching his stomach, and tears streaming down his cheeks. He began to feel dizzy. After a moment he lost the ground under his feet, fell to the ground and fainted.

He was awakened by singing. A beautiful, clear female voice. Simply flawless. Czarek raised his head and looked around. He noticed that the fog had vanished. As had his friend's body. However, he didn't dwell on that. His only concern now was finding the source of that angelic voice. He could almost see its owner in his mind: a beautiful, golden-haired girl with blue eyes, in a flowing dress and a beautiful, innocent smile. He felt as if she were calling to him with her singing. He stood up, ignoring the throbbing headache, and headed in the direction of the sound. Even though the fog had disappeared, it was still night and there were only trees around, so visibility was poor, but Czarek had the feeling he saw a white dress billowing somewhere in the distance. All the bad feelings were gone. The fear was fading away. He felt the nightmare was ending. That this angelic voice would save him from all his troubles. He just had to catch up. He had to find his goddess, and he could die happy. Everything would cease to matter. It already did. Only the voice mattered.

He started running. The tree branches, like arms twisted by terrible arthritis, reached out towards him as if to stop him. They grabbed his sleeves and the collar of his jacket. They lashed his face, leaving red welts. But he barely noticed. He only wanted to catch up with the voice. Finally, he burst out of the trees and found himself in a clearing. He stopped. In the white moonlight, he saw the one he'd been running towards. Exactly as he'd imagined her. She had beautiful golden hair; even from a distance, he could see the wondrous blue of her eyes. Her long white dress billowed gently in the wind. She was looking at him. The moon made her look like an angel radiating a magnificent heavenly light. A light that ended all troubles. A light that saved. The figure no longer sang. She stood motionless, looking at Czarek. He, on the other hand, moved slowly and timidly towards her. Perhaps ten meters separated them now. It seemed as if with each step, the girl glowed more and more. Her glow was almost blinding, yet at the same time soothing. She spread her arms slightly and smiled the most wonderful smile Czarek had ever seen.

"You finally came," she said softly, her voice resonating like the most beautiful melody. The boy couldn't utter a word, so he just nodded.

"I've waited a long time," she continued. "I missed you.

" "Me too," he replied. He felt such intense emotion that he wanted to cry. "Me too," he repeated.

As if he had noticed in passing that the trees around him were beginning to thin and disappear.

The girl giggled.

"So, are you ready?" she asked. "Do you want to stay with me forever?"

The grass he walked on had become hard; it felt like he was walking on sidewalk or concrete. But it didn't matter to him. Soon everything would be alright.

"Yes," he sobbed. "Forever." Her glare became unbearable. It was blinding. Yet he still couldn't stop looking at her. The greatest light emanated from her eyes. They became enormous, like two headlights.

"Do you love me?" Her face. So snow-white. It gleamed like bone. It was becoming transparent. Behind her, a new shape began to appear. Huge, hurtling at breakneck speed. An unbearable howl shattered the silence.

"I love you." He replied, and the huge truck slammed into him. Even as he flew, he realized he was back on the road in front of the park.

The impact threw him back several meters and threw him to the ground. He heard a crack and guessed it was his spine. He felt his legs bend at an odd angle. He couldn't move. He vaguely saw a terrified man above him, shouting something into a phone. The world became blurry and indistinct. Blood flowed from Czarek's ears, nose, and mouth. He felt excruciating pain throughout his body, but he wasn't afraid. He felt only peace.

Everything will be alright now.

Do you love me?

I do.

He closed his eyes.