The square gardens are a place dripping with the verdure of spring, with flowers bursting from vibrant green grass at every possible juncture. Along the edge of the garden a darker forest looms, with a deep forest green canopy that sat atop unresolvable tree trunks; The Primordial Woods. The size of each square was three times the size of my body laid down on each end, with the lines between the square filled with restless waters an arms-length in width bracketed by grass bursting from the banks. The air was drenched in sunlight reflecting from insect wings and defracting through a gentle haze of pollen. Through my examination the sensation in my stomach would only grow more pronounced, but by all that is lovely it was indeed an idyllic scene.
As I walked the gardens, hopping or finding small bridges to cross between squares, I sampled the flowers and sensations. The draw began, the sensation of what needs to be done grew and I knew I could not dally, or I would risk such a lovely place becoming defaced. So I walked to the edge of the square gardens where a broad dirt path lay, walking down the road I came across a field used for sports. A tall batting cage rose above one edge and enveloped a corner, with the fence taller all along then should be possible. Bracketed once more by The Primordial Woods, the road splits at the far end, near the batting cage, and a wooden fence composed of a single floating stick holds me back.
In one dream I die here. There is a felidae born of the concept of a tiger, a lion, and something personal; a creature that prowls in the field and along its hidden side. My family calling and drawing me in like a siren, I pass the paltry wooden fence on one side of the field. Beyond that I am no longer safe. I run in the field, and I am run down. In one dream I die here, torn to shreds as I usher my sister across the line. As I died I wondered if the square garden was safe.
In another dream I walk from the garden and trace my hand against the chain link fence, not stopping to turn down that wood blocked path. Then the square garden begins to reassert itself, pushing against the dirt road until I am hopping from square to square to progress towards where I need to go. Then I see it, a dirt road encroaching on the path of squares, leading up a path towards a strange rounded building.
The structure is rounded, a dome elongated into an extension to the left of my vantage, with a large dome covered in windows on the right. The building itself is ochre in colour, with rounded windows of glass separated into four panes by wooden separations. As one walked towards the entrance, 3/4 down the extension from the large dome, I saw the terraced gardens, like the square garden was lapping up against this building and leaving behind rills of flowers and grass. I know this is where I was meant to go, in the way that the rain drop knows it is meant to fall and lose pieces of itself along the way. I walk towards the door, and there as I prepare to enter I am struck by a .
Here I merely transmit the words of a self that died more than a decade ago, they are about The Jack King:
When you see him you cannot hide.
Run and run and he will find you.
Close the door whisper a prayer
now you hear what he wants.
The ears of a rabbit the face too twisted,
now just run the Jack King does come.
If he finds you, you must run
for if he catches you, you are done.
In your dreams in your waking run away.
Run to the twisted flesh and broken mind
of the evilest being.
He has no morals and no qualms
so run away so far away
never fight never talk
listen and run from the Jack King.
Hold close your greatest enemy for it is the only way.
That is when I saw The Jack King, a being of places and many spaces. My mind fell through as I scrambled down the facility hall, for it that moment it had become clear. The linoleum floor, the aesthetically integrated exterior so clashing against the dingy interior, this was as I had seen so many times, a facility where people worked but did not live. I knew what I must do and so I ran down that long hallway towards the large dome I knew was at the end, stripping away molecules of hesitation, as I knew I would rather die than be caught. Behind me I felt The Jack King growing closer, he was a rabbit, of course he would be faster than my humanity. I burst through the door and slammed shut, the sensation of his existence palpable as it eroded the knowledge of the boundary between us.
Before me a table, a sodium orange light drenching its weak construction and flimsy oak wood construction. I knew what was beneath it, looking so much like a blobfish and twice as piteous was my greatest enemy. So I dashed beneath and gathered them into my arms, holding them close as I trembled. The feet of the table and the chair were joined by The Jack King, who circled without shadows around me, frustration growing. Then they gave up, but I knew I was not free.
The dome, with vines crawling over the windows now, still contained rings of terminals extending out towards the way I came. The Jack King walked to them and began to interfere, and it was then I knew I was in a nuclear power plant and that this would not go well. After interfacing, The Jack King disappeared, I heard his plans in the scent of the wind of his passing.
I scrambled out from under the table and attempted to prevent what I knew was coming, a complete meltdown. I delayed and detracted, the square garden begging with its vines that aged the facility not to die. Alas I knew I could not, I was no king in this land but a child. So I ran.
I feel no regrets, so I think that my greatest enemy was not one I ever let go of, but they were no longer in my hands. I ran to the road stripped of all save my core, naked as the day I came into the world yet carrying a shawl of all I had seen and done. Outside I found a car, a small VW bug of shifting lapis lake blue and [sunflower yellow](# E8DE2A) but never both at once, but there were people milling about it. People who knew not what I did, people who might not believe me.
So I tried my best, I pushed and pulled the threads of conversation until we were all piled in. Then I drove as fast as I could down that road away from the Nuclear Shell, back the way I came, but not towards the square gardens. Instead it was as if the rivers had overtaken the squares and I splashed through them. We came up the other bank and disappeared into the Primordial Woods.
And thus was my brush with The Jack King in The Square Gardens. I did not see him again, but that rhyme was pressed into me. I think I know where he is from though, he is one of the rabbits from The Mountains With Towns Owned by Rabbits.