My footprints are lined with dew, the morning is not cold enough for frost so we can still pretend winter is far away. My feet lead me along an old path, oddly shaped flagstones line the way. The stones have been here a long time but the path itself is clear. I smile, knowing that others have walked this way recently.

It’s been a while since I last made time for this walk. It starts with a slow descent into a valley, banks lined with prickly heather that are somewhat unfriendly to the intrepid explorer. I’ve lost more than one pair of trousers that way… So I carry on, climbing the opposite side of the valley to look out over a patchwork desert.

There used to be a sea here when I was young, you can still see the remains, salt glinting in the sunlight and seaweed bitterly dying amongst the new dunes. I slowly approach the mottled sand, there are darker patches scattered haphazardly and I trace my way from one to the other. My footprints alternate light on dark and dark on light. I lose myself for a time in my wandering. I draw haphazard patterns with my steps, constantly walking away from what used to be the shore.

That’s far enough though.

Although my mind is distracted and has forgotten why we are here, my feet have not. No matter how mazy the path taken, my feet have always known their destination.

I stand at the edge of a pool of sand that stretches for miles across. It’s hard to spot, it looks the same as the rest of this desolate place, at least from a distance. Up close you can hear it. There’s an eddy, a susurration that ripples across this apparently still place. This pool of sand has secrets to hide, memories sunk beneath its depths. That whisper is a warning. Mind your step, or it will take you too.

I carefully stretch out a finger and touch it to the surface, causing a slight disturbance that flows outward. The sand pulls at my finger as I withdraw it, never keen to give back when it can take, but I have been here before and I hold my nerve. The sand glitters on my fingertip, slowly fading, drying out till it blows away.

My eyes return to the patch of sand I touched. The surface has contours now, lines and grooves form and shift. I relax my mind and gaze into the pool.

Where oh where do I find myself now? I hear music, something catchy, my feet twitch in sympathy and I’m stood in front of you. I see you dancing in the middle of the room. No spotlight falls on you, you’re dressed in black and grey but still I see you so clearly. Swaying and twirling you captivate me, your small feet sliding as others dance staccato. I reach out and you’re gone…

That’s how it gets me, every time. A taste, but only ever a taste. Now a price to pay.

I’m somewhere new, there's water all around but I'm breathing easily. Where is it? There's always a clue, where would the fun be otherwise? I rail internally but my eyes continue searching. There, a small, opal fish, swimming inside a cuboid jellyfish. Perfectly content in the belly of the beast. I will them closer... As the pair approach the jellyfish gradually turns opaque until the little passenger is hidden from sight. Hide and seek then, simple games always come with twists.

The jellyfish circles me, patterns of colour playing across its surface. A silent harlequin of mirth at my discomfort. No tentacles I noted. I stretch out a finger to stroke its surface and recoil in shock! No need for weapons when your body itself is toxic.

I try to speak but only bubbles come out, suddenly the water presses closer all around. The pool learned early on that my voice could play tricks all its own and the pool was a sore loser. I close my mouth, relief as oxygen fills my lungs again.

I try to get closer but my feet are mired, I know better than to look down. A muted purple of displeasure sours the jellyfish's skin as I refuse to fall into a habitual trap. It circles closer, almost brushing my skin, flashing yellow as I flinch away.

How then? There was always an answer, always a way through. The jellyfish was still nearby, so proximity was important.

I close my eyes and watch my thoughts fight it out. Waiting for one to rise to the top and give me a path forward... Ah, I see the path of pain. An old favourite in this place. I brace my right hand with my left and slowly force it into the side of the jellyfish. My nerves burn!My hands fight one another as needles of pain scrape my skin. "Hush little darling, this will only take a moment" I hum to myself "we are not done, lies are taught but wars are won". The litany goes on, so does the pain. Finally my right hand touches something solid.

I'm back. I see the sky, the sand. The air around me, I breathe it in and shout in angry victory. Then I open my hand, an opal, warm to the touch a shifting surface of a memory trapped.

I dare not move it, I know the result, but my legs are weary, my system is shot and one leg buckles beneath me. My hand shakes and the opal dims, cools and is stone once more. The memory is gone, again.

The pool ceases its constant murmur for a long moment. In that pause I see my own face smiling back at me from the surface. A rictus of malicious glee. The pool has taken its due for the day.