Ever lost a friend? I do it all the time. You see, I’ve never been very good at maintaining relationships.
I was six. Maybe seven? I used to have this teddy…my favourite teddy. Billy Bear I called him. Billy was awesome because he’d speak to you when you hugged him tight. One of those little voice boxes that would chime when you squeezed it.
“Hello friend! I love you!”
It was sweet. Until it wasn’t. I don’t know what it was, maybe one day something just snapped in my head. Call it puberty. Call it my parents’ messy divorce. But essentially I just couldn’t do affection anymore. Whenever someone said “I love you”, or I sensed they were getting too chummy, I’d push them away. Shoot them down before they had a chance to shoot me. Sort of a quirky self destructive defence mechanism ya know?
Billy was the first of MANY relationships to fall victim to my flawed mindset. Being a present from my parents when they were still together, Billy became a representation of the lie that is “a healthy relationship”. I started to loathe having him.
I don’t really remember how I lost that Teddy. One morning I woke up and Billy was just gone. I suspected one of my parents could have thrown him out but I never asked. It’s not like I was going to miss the constant reminder that all relationships are doomed.
Fast forward fifteen years and this toxic trait started to get the best of me during the recent lockdowns. I took the isolation thing a tiny bit too seriously and started cutting myself off from friends and family. That is, the few I have left. Basically, I was living in solitary confinement within my own home. A hermit in his cave.
Friends would reach out to me with kind messages of concern. Loving expressions of care that I would consistently ignore. Messages would flood in and I would get overwhelmed by the abundance of unread notifications. I didn’t know how to tackle it.
To help clear the mind, I started to go on bike rides around the neighbourhood. The fresh air and forward movement gave me a sense of progression in a period that felt particularly stagnant. One evening, I finished the first leg of my ride outside a local park. I didn’t recognise that part of town but decided it would be a nice spot for a quick smoke.
I know, I know. Smoking during a spell of exercise? That seems a little detrimental to the purpose of a bike ride.
Well you’re right.
But in case you hadn’t caught on yet, I’m a self destructive motherfucker. I was out there to defog my brain. What better way to do that than with some smoke?
I ignited my cigarette and deeply inhaled its black fumes. That was when I first noticed the picnic. Nobody else was in the park apart from me and my bike. Yet, lying before me was the most stereotypical representation of a picnic I’d ever seen. If you were to type the word “picnic” into google, the first few stock images would be quite accurate to what I was observing.
The red and white blanket was neatly laid out, with a large, woven basket sitting atop its fabric. Empty plastic cups and plates were scattered across its surface. It looked like it was a scene for two. That’s if anyone was around to claim it.
I chained my bike to a nearby pole, stamped out my cigarette and slowly approached the abandoned social event.
The wet grass squelched beneath my feet. Mud stuck to my soles. It had been lightly drizzling for the majority of the day. Hardly the weather for one to have an outdoor mingle. Everything felt strange about it being there.
I was no more than ten metres out when I saw the lid on the basket slightly open. It appeared as if something was inside. A force moving from within.
It snapped shut.
I assumed that an animal had probably found its way inside and was indulging in the jackpot of feasts. That seemed like the most logical scenario.
I picked up a nearby stick and hesitantly stepped forward…closer. It was as cliche as you can get for a picnic basket. Rectangular in shape, two lids on either half and that green checkered pattern which lines the interior.
I wedged my branch underneath the lid and levered it upwards. I jumped back, expecting a possum or maybe a bird to frantically explode out.
Nothing.
A breeze whistled past me, accentuating the anticlimactic moment.
I gingerly peered over the basket, relying on my sight to discover what was within.
It was trippy. It seemed like an illusion. The checkered pattern dropped down into darkness. It looked like an endless tunnel.
I rubbed my sockets, wondering if the fatigue of lockdown had finally made me break. The tunnel remained. I lifted the basket off the blanket, expecting to find a hole dug into the earth.
Nope.
The ground remained undisturbed. The blanket lay undamaged.
It was physically impossible. The basket seemed to be the entrance for some kind of passage. I placed it back on the rug and gazed into its black abyss. The question prickled at the back of my skull even louder. What made the lid move?
Before I could reconsider getting any more involved, a hairy claw lunged out, snatched my collar and dragged me downwards. I tried to scream but my voice box seized up. The basket walls creaked as I smacked and tumbled against them.
Falling, slipping, sliding.
Deep into the checkered void. It was even more endless than it had initially seemed.
The claw remained attached to my shirt, hurtling me along. It was too dark to take in any visible details of this beast, but its loud grunts implied it was large.
I didn’t know where it was taking me. My fingernails tried digging into the wall’s cloth lining but they only slipped against its surface. Gravity seemed to be shifting. I felt my exposed skin glow hot red as it received multiple carpet burns. There was nothing I could do. I was utterly helpless.
After what felt like an eternity of struggle, the creature halted. We had reached the end of the tunnel. Light beamed through the darkness as it pushed open some kind of door. The sudden shift from pitch black to white blinded me. My pupils strained, attempting to adjust. They weren’t quick enough. My captor hurled me through the doorway and I landed with a hard thump.
Wet. The floor was damp and mushy. Shapes near me started to take recognisable forms once more. I gasped as I realised most of them were bones. Lots of them. Mountainous piles surrounded me in every direction. This was a different world. The home of the beast.
The area was geographically similar to the park, yet this place was a wasteland. The trees were crooked and dead. Brown grass patches were mixed in with puddles of mud. Above, a gigantic sun burned in a grey sky. It was sweltering, almost bringing the soupy terrain to a simmer.
I snapped my head towards where I’d been thrown from. Another large picnic basket lay before me with its lid open. I assumed it must have been the other side of the tunnel I’d come through. Some kind of portal connecting the park to this other location. It didn’t make much sense…but it was the best theory I had.
Two clawed paws emerged, clamping onto the baskets sides. The creature was lifting itself out. I grabbed what looked like a large rib bone as a makeshift weapon. It wouldn’t do much…but it was all I had.
Hair. Raised brown hair like pointed needles covered the beast’s body. It raised its head, revealing a bear-like face with beady back eyes. They bulged, glassy with a stare of ferocity. Its seven foot frame followed through. The body squished through the small opening like a cat contorting in a tight space. It couldn’t have possibly had a skeleton.
Spotting me, the creature roared and lunged forward. It was intent to kill. I dropped the rib bone and held my hands up in a reflexive effort to shield myself.
The beast’s chest pushed down on my palms, slowly crushing them with its weight. Saliva drooled from its chin and lathered my face. The spit stung my eyes. My fingers sank into its fur, disappearing into its large body.
I was right. No skeleton.
My wrists were next to be swallowed up by its soft flesh.
They disappeared as I was slowly squished…deeper…deeper…
My hands finally made contact with a hard plastic surface inside the creature. They slowly pressed what felt like a small box. A familiar voice chimed from within the beast.
“Hello Friend! I love you!”
I scanned its furry face. A look of recognition gleamed in my eyes.
“Billy Bear?”
I struggled to process it. He’d changed so much. We both had. I hardly recognised him.
Billy closed his snarling mouth and began studying me. He probably hadn’t heard his name since we’d last seen each other.
My breath fluttered as I considered what this all meant. Had my actions created this creature? I dreaded to think who the surrounding bones belonged to. How many had the Billy Beast lured in here? How many had he hurt?
Billy’s brow furrowed as he recalled who I was. Clearly not a fond memory.
His lip curled, re-exposing sharp canines. The predator resumed its attack.
I seized the few seconds I had left. I grabbed the rib bone and thrust it into Billy’s chest. He reeled backwards in pain as white cloudy stuffing spilled out of the gash. I crawled out from beneath his body and sprinted towards the picnic basket gateway. As I looked back I witnessed the plastic voice box fall out of Billy’s chest. It dropped into the dirt before being crushed by his paw. The chase had begun.
I flipped open the basket lid and dived back into the checkered tunnel. It was the last place I ever wanted to return to but it was my only passage home. I shuffled my hands and knees along the fabric, using my cigarette lighter to guide the way. I could now take in the circular shape of the tunnel. It looked like being inside a long artery which connected the two worlds.
A monstrous roar rang out behind me. I tried to move faster as I knew Billy would outpace me in here. The ripping of cloth grew closer as his claws tore across the walls. The minutes dragged on as I focused on only moving forward.
Finally, I could see the light from the exit spilling through the other basket’s lid. I could feel the familiar gravity of Earth pushing me down again. Home was so close.
Closing my lighter, I forced my battered body to start doing more than it should. I had to begin climbing an incline for the remaining distance.
Ten metres.
Five metres.
One metre.
A claw dug into my leg. I screamed out in pain as I felt both Billy and the shifting gravity pull me down. Warm blood trickled down my ankle. I looked back into his black beady eyes. More soulless than ever, no longer with a heart.
I flipped open my lighter and let it drop. The flame connected with his exposed stuffing, igniting it into a brilliant orange. Billy emitted a painful yelp and released his grip as the ball of fire consumed him.
With fingertips clinging onto the edge of the exit I lifted my body out of the basket. The feeling was comparable to getting out of a pool of concrete. My shoulders cracked. My abdominals ached.
I made it. I collapsed onto the picnic rug and lay there for a beat. Its soft surface welcomed me back with a velvet embrace.
Not relying on any more luck, I secured my bike lock and wrapped it around the basket lids. Nobody would get hurt any more. Billy is staying in his own world now. Forever.
I scatteredly packed up the picnic and brought it home. It couldn’t remain outside.
As I patched my leg that evening I also decided to patch some other areas of my life. No longer would I hide from affection. I’ve seen what that can do.
Spending the better part of three hours I responded to all those who had reached out to me in an attempt to rebuild some bridges.. I’m proud to say there were even a few phone calls.
“Hey Willy. How you been?” asked one friend.
“Not the best mate but I’m getting better.”
“Let’s catch up soon. I hear restrictions are easing. We could do an outdoor thing? Like a picnic?”
I smiled. It was nice to be nice again.
“Let’s do it. You’re bringing the basket”