I am writing this from the centre of Hirule. It’s light and all around me are sparkling lakes and winding rivers, and forest green trees that reach the sky and cause no shadows. The sky is so blue. Usually scattered clouds. But it never rains here. The weather is calm and the temperature is neither warm nor cold. It is just right. It is all just right. Except for me. I am fearful. I miss my family. I miss the warm evenings and the cold mornings. The feeling of rain splashing on my skin, soaking me to my bones.
I look down at my fingers, they are pixelated, they are almost see-through. 2D fingers on a 2D hand on a 2D body. Every part of me is 2D now, except my thoughts. They feel as real as they always did. I remember that last time I played. Just one more time. Just one more play. I sneaked out of bed when the house slept soundly. I tiptoed into the living room and switched on the TV. Volume down. Silence. Playing. Desperate to reach the castle. Desperate to win. To get through to Twilight. If only I had known what Twilight really meant.
As I wander through these endless, pixelated hills all I can think of is what happened the next morning at home. I imagine they came downstairs to the living room to see the TV still on. A screen, unmoving. Volume silent. No coffee. No porridge. No me. Just a screen. They would have called the police. Called the family. It was in the news. Disappearance. Was she kidnapped? Did she run away? Waiting always for answers that never came. And then me. A tiny pixelated dot in Hirule. Screaming for them to hear me.