Into The Pink, Part 2

Last time, we began an exploration in the other side of the toy store: into the vast depth and bright reflections of The Pink.  If you've yet to read part one, we suggest beginning there.

Otherwise, continue if you dare:

Day 2.

I have found no sleep here; no rest.  Even at night, the overhead light blares down, defused into a monochrome glare.  It is always upon me; always watching.  I caught sight of my arm a moment ago and thought myself bleeding, but I was unharmed.

It was only the Pink.

After a brief breakfast, I carry on, pushing forward into the strange expanse.  The things I find are unknown to me: Polly Pocket playsets surround me and I wonder how long these have been here.  Months?  Years?  Or have they always been in this spot, entombed in thin plastic cases, waiting for buyers that would never come?

---

I cannot say.

I pass on, believing whatever awaits must be better than what I've just seen.  But all that awaits are more horrors.  I find a field of dolls, as numerous and unmoving as stars in the sky, lining shelves and looking down with cold and unsympathetic eyes. 

I pass through this gauntlet, taking care never to step too close, never to come within striking distance.  All the while, their gazes follow me.

I come next upon a land of ponies and Strawberry Shortcake; symbols of the 1980’s, a bygone era now enshrined in Pink packages.  Is this a graveyard I've stumbled upon?  And, if so, is it too much to hope that the dead may stay in their tombs?
 

I do not delay.  My only desire is to be free of this place, of these things.

The paths here are thick and winding.  There is no sun nor stars to guide me: I must put my faith in my judgment.  It is afternoon when I come across my own tracks.  Still the same toys surround me.  Are they as inanimate as they seem, or are they as vultures, waiting for me to fall?

All things look alike here; all roads the same.  Hours pass, and again I find the same clearing, the same tracks I’ve left twice before.  I fall to the ground and curse whatever madness has driven me here, whatever desire for fame or knowledge.

It grows darker, a dimmer shade of pink, and I run.  There is nothing left to guide me but hope, and already that has forsaken me.

As I tear through the thick displays, I feel something bite into my arm.  I look down and find myself snared on the overgrowth.  I pull free, leaving flesh and blood behind.  I cover the wound and run on.  My one consolation is that my blood won't give me away: the only trail I leave is pink as the rest.

When I finally drop from exhaustion, I check my supplies: my food is all but gone, and my water runs low.
 

If I could walk away now, leave this place and never return, I would do so.  I should not have come here, to this land of death.  I am dizzy, tired, and afraid.  I know now that I could die here, in this land where men were not meant to tread.

The third installment of Into The Pink is now online.