Press Here
A really short scene without any external context. Read it slowly.
Once upon a time, a brash youth wandered into the haunted woods. It was a dark place where things always moved when you didn't look at them. The youth was beginning to regret his exploration when he came across a pleasant grassy clearing, where the sun shone bright and warm. At the center of the clearing was an enormous weather-worn stump, the top surface flat and smooth two feet above the ground.
"Well, I might as well rest before heading back," thought the slim youth, and he sat on the stump, which must have been four meters in diameter, gently textured with concentric rings. Caught in the roots of the stump, the youth saw a sheet of paper which was white and clean. It would have been easily visible were the grasses of the meadow not so long or if it had caught up against the tree at a different angle, but the youth felt especially lucky that he had sat down in just the perfect position to spy the paper. Paper was a valuable thing, as the scribes and kite makers and furry artists were always trying to outbid each other.
He was a bit disappointed to discover the paper, which was unmarred by dirt or weather stain, and uncreased and unyellowed by age and sun, had already been used on one side. Clean block letters, as good as any copybook spelled a simple message:
"Press here to summon rapist." Below the phrase was a perfectly scribed circle, the diameter of a thumb.
"Ho ho ho," thought the smug youth, "Someone has made a joke, and this is supposed to be a button." He squashed the circle with his thumb, "Oh, Mr. Rapist," he cried, "take me on as an apprentice." He thought this was the funniest thing in the world, and lay back on the smooth stump to look up at the sky through eyes watery with his mirth.
"Ack!" He sat quickly back up again, and examined the paper closely. Fortune favors the foolish, for the rough handling had not marred the paper in the least. He pressed at the circle again, and again, but he could not discern the slightest flaw or wrinkle. He sighed in relief. Perhaps he could trade this for the price of a warm dinner in the inn.
Who could have been the joker to have wasted a sheet of paper like this, abandoned in the forest? The mischievous youth fought the urge to mash the circle with his palm against the smooth ripples of the stump, but he dared not ruin his prize. He made up his mind to return to town, to boast of his courage and his prize, and gathered himself to rise.
But before he stood, a circle of liquid blackness erupted in the clearing, between the startled youth and the direction of town. An inky cylinder, as black as the clear marks on the paper shot up and it seemed to suck the health and light and air from the meadow. The youth cowered on the stump, pulling up his feet and scooting away, but everything was terribly exposed, with the trees many meters away. From within the fading darkness a massive figure moved towards the youth, a great bestial figure with a hungry grin. The figure was equally massive in its ready maleness, and the youth met its eyes.
"I am for you, young one," spoke the figure, who approached the motionless youth, as if claiming a prize upon a pedestal.
"B-b-but what would you want with me," stammered the once-haughty youth, "I'm a man like you."
"Perhaps, afterwards, we will take you on as an apprentice, after all. You have much to learn."
Unable to wrap his mind over what the massively erect beast meant by "afterwards" the naive youth asked the only other question that mattered. "We, sir?"
At that moment two new circles of blackness ripped the light from the sky. "You did press the circle three times. You will, of course, forgive the lateness of my colleagues, for this is a very long way from Hell."
The beast smiled wider as apprehensive youth met his eyes again. "I was afraid he might have been too stupid for this to be fun."