A recent eve, while enjoying a paper pot of Danshui’s regional speciality, Agae, an overly large piece of quiet plain tofu cut, filled and sealed with noodles, served in perfect harmony with an unnamed red sauce not dissimilar in texture and colour but quite unlike the taste of ketchup, I was suddenly distracted.
Not too soon after, I would find out that, indeed, they were not eaten, but they disappeared so suddenly it seemed to be the safest assumption.
It could have been two minutes or two seconds later, its difficult to tell, apparently time slows when you lock eyes with the mythical beast, but nevertheless I was now alone.
To make matters worse, or at least more interesting, my phone buzzed and flashed its last flash and buzz of life before dying on me.
More fortunately, my camera, while fading fast, maintained a lick of life.
It understood, that if nothing else could make it back, people could piece together my final hours, with the fragments of my digital self, conveniently formatted for SD.
This newly found situation instilled me with a combination of nervous excitement and unexpected freedom.
I would have to go solo, after all, I had no choice.
Most events after that were a blur. I failed to remember where I was twenty minutes before, or where, potentially, I could be after when the next third of an hour elapses.
Exactly one-hundred and fifty metres up the road, I vaguely recall stumbling across the golden arches, A good check point, I thought to myself.
Previous expeditions had taught me to consider that much.
About one-hundred and fifty metres farther down, tremendous bangs that vibrated the earth, like thunderclaps in the pavement, drew me in.
Before a fizzle and consecutive flashes of light blinded me, and reminded me of a giant mobile phone that was running out of battery.
Such a terror I have not felt before.
So I ran as well. I ran through the park and past the giant colourful men, with unnecessarily long black beards.
Until a familiar face was revealed.
Then a dozen.
Then I woke up.