Post by Chazzy on Jul 6, 2012 5:36:55 GMT -5
Not much done yet... Open to suggestions and criticism :] x
Prologue
Ever heard of the fact that the mind is supposedly a complex place, where there are tunnels and paths unknown, and things yet to be discovered and even thought of in the future? Well, I have.
I walk my mind, down the paths, squeezing through crevices and hiding out in caverns as large as a huge mansion when needs be – which isn’t often. You may be thinking to yourself that I’m nuts, and that I have no idea what I’m doing, or that I’m a dreamer. That’s what most people think.
But why not try and imagine, for once, just standing inside your mind, and looking around. What would you see? Slime, you say? Rubbish!
The mind is a luxurious paradise if tended to, all green grass, and beautiful caves interconnected by winding tunnels formed with stalactites and stalagmites, glittering and glowing in the sunlight, which invariably makes its way into even the deepest places of the mind.
And as I walk through the world that is mine, I come across places where weeds thrive and hate kills off any prettiness. This spreads if there’s nothing done to keep the happiness at the front of the mind.
So, if you chose not to believe me, and stubbornly set your mind on the fact that the only thing that is real is that which science can prove, then you might just as well stop reading here, right now.
Chapter One
How nice, you’ve decided to continue reading… How very social of you, indeed. Ah, irony... It never hurts, does it? Let’s try that again anyway. How so very nice of you to come and join me! Wrong stress on the wrong words you say? Never mind, this is my world, my words, my enjoyment of your utter puzzlement.
Let me take you back in time, to the very first time I mind walked, my time in jail.
I was sitting in my cell, reading, when the metal door banged open and one of the burly guards, usually stationed by the front gates, announced that I was to get up, make myself presentable, and come along. Wearily I stood, grimacing as my muscles burned from the morning’s closely watched work-out in the local gym.
He directed me as to where I was to go, flanking me until we reached a dead end. There was a door to my left with a number 15 written on it, and I spat on the floor. Typical, thanks for choosing my least favourite number… Not.
The room was badly furnished, with only two chairs. One of the chairs had straps hanging off of the arm rests and legs. Mine, of course, I should’ve known. I was ordered to sit down on the chair, and then strapped to it, the bands restricting my movements and making it almost impossible to shift my position to a more comfortable one.
“We’ve decided to do a little experiment on you, as well as a couple of the other offenders here.” A voice sounded from all around. Glancing up, I could see that there were speakers hanging in every corner of the room, and video cameras were stationed at regular intervals around the room, each one surrounded by five glowing lights. “What it entails is giving you energy shockwaves to try and change the different atomic thoughts in your brain so that you become a better person.” The person speaking coughed before continuing in a drone and voice completely devoid of any change in the way of pronunciation. “Side effects may be tiredness and permanent headaches.”
“May I say something?” I asked meekly, slightly worried at what was going to happen. But I didn’t get a reply. The lights in the room blinked out of existence and the only sound left was my breathing.
It started with a whirring, almost like a printer. And then the light came. It was weird, because none of the bulbs set into the ceiling were on, and it was just like a sun, growing bigger and bigger in the middle of the room until it blocked out my vision in a dazzling, but painful, burst of light.
I gasped as my forehead grew awfully hot, and my vision went black around the edges, as it does when you’re about to faint. But then I sighed. If this was all they could manage, then they really were silly, ignorant people, content to sit back and watch someone sitting peacefully in a chair with only a migraine that would disappear after a while any way . I’d been through worse, after all.
The first time I went wrong. And it wouldn’t be the last.
Swirling patterns took place in front of my eyes, replacing the huge sun, which had left its mark on my retinas, even when I blinked. Hypnotizing lights bobbed up and around my head, swaying when a beat sounded up an irregular pattern, like a drum. And then it stopped. Nothing, not a single sound was to be heard, just a long silence that filled my ears and made me wonder whether this could possibly be death. And then the tweeting of the birds started. You know what it’s like, when you visit a wildlife park, don’t you? You think you’ve found somewhere quiet to sit and eat your packed lunch, when the tweeting of the caged residents start up.
Almost as if I had been dragged into a completely different world, – which incidentally is almost exactly what happened – I found myself in a dry cave in goodness-knows-where. But I’m assuming that you already know where I was. Exactly – My mind. It must have been midday, and through the cave mouth I could see fields lined by trees; undoubtedly where the birds must have been. Some looked barren and empty; others held wild flowers dotted randomly around the place or were a ripe green. I glanced around, puzzled. What had happened? Where was I? I had to give the people at the prison some credit for this; after all, it’s not every day you get transported to another dimension as quick as a flash of lightning. Although I’m slightly exaggerating there, it wasn’t that quick.
So, there I was, in this cave, completely confused as to where I was and feeling more than a little dizzy.
And I didn’t know what to do. That was the thing that bugged me most, for until now I’d always had a purpose. Either of my own free will or here, at the prison, because that’s the way things worked. Here it was a case of get up, go for a supervised work-out at the local gym, and then go back for some lunch and after that doing some communal service like washing cars. And finally, at the end of the day, we go to bed, after receiving a measly dinner in a plastic container. Simple really, isn’t it? Quick and slick, no doubting what had to be done, a set routine to hold on to. Something to keep our minds in one place in the desolate, unfriendly building the inmates call ‘Hawks Clink’.
At first I did nothing, but reflect upon my life. I thought about my past, my present and possible futures, although only one of the futures that I came up with sounded plausible. And seeing as we’ve got to a stage where I’ll burst unless I tell you, I shall articulate and form those exact thoughts into words.
It all started when I was a kid. I was fifteen and after having had another beating from my dad, I was sullenly sitting in my room, contemplating the possibilities of escape from the mad man who hit my elder sister and me for no particular reason.
That same night, it came to me. There would be no escape from here, unless he was gone. Until the control freak was gone; the person who gave me nightmares. And ringing the police would do no good, as he was one of them.
I remember it quite vividly. It was late, and my mum had gone to bed, leaving my father sitting in the downstairs room, watching TV. Picking up my brass lamp which sat on my bed-side table, I edged down the stairs, being careful not to step on the floorboards that creaked in the hallway. The lamp heavy in my hand I crept up behind the sofa, and I hit him. At the same time it connected with his scull I was already on my way out of the room, hand over my mouth, heavy footsteps following soon after. Vomiting into the bath I shook with fear as the realisation dawned on me that he was not dead.
I remember it in my nightmares, the way he scowled at me through the blood pouring off of his head, that maniac grin, all leading up to the worst beating I’d ever had. I was unconscious for the rest of the night.
I had barely come to when a police officer hauled me up by my arm, almost ripping it out of its socket. I only vaguely heard the way he chanted the usual ritual of how I was being arrested for attempted murder.
And so I was jailed for seven years for attempted murder and my father was sentenced to two years for grievous bodily harm on both my sister and me.
During my time as an inmate I kept in touch with my sister, who bought herself a flat in Kent, far away from the place we had grown up. As soon as I was out, at the age of 22, I moved in with her, to try and keep her safe.
I didn’t do a very good job of it. They found me again, that fatal morning. Sitting in a pool of blood, with her head in my lap and the knife beside me. That was the end. No questions asked, no answers given. I'd flipped, obviously. After ten long years in prison and at the stage in life when any regular person would’ve settled down and got themselves a family by now, I still got nightmares about my past.
The only future that sounded in the slightest bit sane to me was that I would escape from here, and get my revenge on him, and the police. And whilst I was having these thoughts, the place around me grew dim.
Not dim as in getting dark towards the end of the day though. It was a lot different from that dim, which you are undoubtedly thinking of now. First time I noticed it was when I was thinking of what I would do to the guard who had led me to that cursed room. The foliage around the edge of the cave mouth started withering and turning from the nice green it had been, to a mouldy brown. At this point I had ignored it. Plants were plants were plants, weren’t they? It wouldn’t do them any harm to die; they’d just grow back eventually, as all weeds do.
That’s where I went seriously wrong, for the second time. Following the noises of a river, I had stumbled through bushes and over-grown hedgerows, until finally I came to it. But it was empty, the noises of the water gone. And when the sight of some heavily laden fruit trees lured me away to the nearby field, I started gagging as I got closer. And the closer I got, the heavier the stench of rotten apples.
What was this? Was this the works of some sort of god, toying with me? Or was this entirely the doing of the lovely prison wardens and police officers who took pleasure in seeing the inhabitants squirm with displeasure when on toilet cleaning duty in the local hospital? Either way, I wasn’t going to wait to find out. With nothing to confine me to where I was, I set off in pursuit of finding some water, and hopefully some food with it.
Chapter Two
I was freezing. The weather in this odd place mirrored my feelings, strong wind blowing around my head. I was depressed and at wits end. Tramping through fields and fields with nothing to eat or drink all day really did not suit me well. I was more of a laid back city person, preferring to hide in backstreets and small cramped alleyways if necessary, not in the long grasses of the wilderness… And most certainly not one who goes out for daily strolls in the nature, but someone who would rather spend hours secluded in one corner of the gym, entirely alone if I could, doing sit-ups. And someone who always thought ahead, including having provisions. So now I was stuck.
Not long after thinking those exact thoughts I blacked out, right in the middle of the corn field I had been fighting my way through. I didn’t remember anything after that until the time I woke up again.
I was on a sofa in a badly plastered room, a damp flannel on my head. Sitting up disorientated, I barely registered the flannel falling on the floor with a soft thump.
Feeling slightly queasy I focused on some shouts coming from somewhere behind me. Slowly turning round so as not to alarm anyone who may have been in the room, I managed to fix my eyes on a murky brown door. A brown door, located in a wall painted a sickly yellow. I swallowed. I knew this place; it was the setting of one of my worst nightmares.
Shakily I stood up, careful to hold onto settee for support. Stumbling over my own feet as I moved into open space, I lurched towards the door, suddenly aware that the shouting had stopped. For a few seconds I just stood there, hand on the doorknob, petrified as to what would be behind it. Even though I already knew – Or did I?
With a jerk I tugged it open, the handle slick with the sweat pouring off of me in small rivulets. Not bothering to look into my old childhood bedroom, I half ran, half fell down the hallway to my sister’s bedroom. The door was closed, a piece of paper with the scrawled capitals MEGHAN stuck to it with some sellotape. Tracing my finger over the letters I didn’t notice the tears rolling down my cheeks until I felt one splash onto the back of my hand.
Quiet sobbing brought me back to reality, and I pushed the door open, quietly slipping through the small gap I’d created and crossing the room in only two strides. I took her in my arms and held her, stroking the hair out of her face. “Meghan.” I whispered. “Meghan.” She still looked exactly as she had then, sixteen but looking younger, her honey coloured hair falling down her back in waves, reflecting the small amount of light there was. The faint scar on her left cheekbone had been the only reason she’d used make-up. That was, if we had enough money to buy any.
Taking her hand, I pulled her from where she’d been sitting on the bed. She didn’t say anything, but she seemed to have quietened down, so I reached over and pulled the curtains in her room open. Darkness. Complete and utter darkness. There was no other way of putting it, so black was the void out there. Somewhat surprised I let go of Meghan’s hand and put mine up to the window pane. It was warm and felt slightly damp to the touch.
A small cough disturbed my thought process. Turning abruptly I looked my sister in the eyes. Although how could I call them eyes? Pebbles, shiny black obsidian pebbles shone back at me, or at least, that was my first impression.
I couldn’t do anything at first, I was so shocked. I felt my jaw drop open and then something in me snapped. Pushing past whatever it was I raced for the door, slamming it against the wall in my haste to get out.
Unfortunately for me, this brought back the old fear. Having broken or damaged something in the house as children, we would have been dragged around the house by an ear, as punishment for ruining something that didn’t directly belong to us.
Skating around the corner at the end of the hall, I reached the front door after what seemed like an age to me, even though it could only have been mere seconds.
Hesitating, I thought about the blackness that I had glimpsed through the window, but upon hearing footsteps behind me I immediately knew which one I’d rather take.
Tugging the door open so forcefully that any lesser door would’ve broken, I stepped outside, only to find the world around me changed - The birds in the trees singing, and long grass tickling my legs. And when I risked a glance behind me, the front door to the house I’d spent most of my childhood in was gone.
This time she would live. I swore it to myself, that no matter what, wherever it was that this weird place was situated, she wouldn’t die. And I was still making promises of miraculous saves, when the first few drops of rain started rolling off the end of my nose and into my open mouth, quenching the thirst that had been plaguing me since early in the morning.
Crouching down, I let the rain wash over me, getting harder and harder until I was soaking, still in the same position I had been since it had started.
Finally, after what seemed like an age, I stood, I stretching my aching limbs and wincing as I pulled a muscle in my arm.
Life was hard, and I knew it. And although I wasn’t aware of it at the time, life was about to get even harder.
***
Shielding my eyes against the rising sun the next day, I marvelled at its eerie beauty. Single strips of light fanned out around it, touching the horizon that was visible from my perch in a tree. The mixing colours of various shades of yellow and orange gave everything a minute, glowing halo, each strand of grass magnified because of it.
The question of where I was still lingered at the back of my mind, but for now it didn’t seem so important. I just needed to find her again. To save her from whichever fate awaited her in this place.
Not long after that I found myself heading down an embankment upon picking up on the faint sound of flowing water. Flopping down on the damp grass I reached forward and dipped my hands into the water until I could feel the cool freshness of it lapping at my wrists. With one finger I began lazily tracing circles, enjoying the way the liquid parted to let it through, but closed up the space almost immediately. Closing my eyes I basked in the sun until a shadow fell over me. Clouds over the sun, I assumed, and rose, not realising my mistake until the last moment.
A man, on the other side of the river, stood patiently, a gun by his side and wearing the usual attire of the police force. Reeling back, I half tripped, half ran up the slope, desperately grabbing onto patches of grass for some hold. Several times the grass came up in my hand, and I felt myself slipping backwards in my haste to get away.
“STOP.” The voice boomed. I shivered at the authority in the voice but didn’t pay heed to the word, undeterred in climbing up the slope, which seemed to be getting longer and longer the more I climbed.
“YOU CANNOT ESCAPE.” The loud voice said, making my head hurt. “YOU RUN AND DIE… OR YOU STOP AND LISTEN.” Panting, I paused, limbs trembling as I tried to avoid looking back. Almost thoughtfully the voice added, “I have a gun.”
Turning slowly, I warily scanned the other side of the river until I found him again, in the same position he’d been in before… But then again, he wasn’t. Something had changed.
I blinked, clearing my eyes, wondering vaguely whether or not I was having hallucinations. On the man’s head sat a squirrel. A squirrel with a gun slung over its shoulder. Eyes boggling, I found myself fixated, staring at the squirrel lest it move.
“Oh, you needn’t worry, I shan’t hurt you.” It said, cleaning leaping from the officer’s head over to my side of the river. Almost as soon as it hit hard ground, the policeman started to disintegrate, falling apart as old books do after a time if uncared for. The small flakes of him, once on the floor, burst into flowers of many colours; Red, Blue and Purple, all there together, merging into a carpet-like patch.
Still unable to take my eyes off the creature bounding up the slope, I didn’t realise that I wasn’t breathing until I started coughing, bringing up bile and the remnants of the mornings measly breakfast of a few berries I’d found.
“And so it begins.” The squirrel stated.
Prologue
Ever heard of the fact that the mind is supposedly a complex place, where there are tunnels and paths unknown, and things yet to be discovered and even thought of in the future? Well, I have.
I walk my mind, down the paths, squeezing through crevices and hiding out in caverns as large as a huge mansion when needs be – which isn’t often. You may be thinking to yourself that I’m nuts, and that I have no idea what I’m doing, or that I’m a dreamer. That’s what most people think.
But why not try and imagine, for once, just standing inside your mind, and looking around. What would you see? Slime, you say? Rubbish!
The mind is a luxurious paradise if tended to, all green grass, and beautiful caves interconnected by winding tunnels formed with stalactites and stalagmites, glittering and glowing in the sunlight, which invariably makes its way into even the deepest places of the mind.
And as I walk through the world that is mine, I come across places where weeds thrive and hate kills off any prettiness. This spreads if there’s nothing done to keep the happiness at the front of the mind.
So, if you chose not to believe me, and stubbornly set your mind on the fact that the only thing that is real is that which science can prove, then you might just as well stop reading here, right now.
Chapter One
How nice, you’ve decided to continue reading… How very social of you, indeed. Ah, irony... It never hurts, does it? Let’s try that again anyway. How so very nice of you to come and join me! Wrong stress on the wrong words you say? Never mind, this is my world, my words, my enjoyment of your utter puzzlement.
Let me take you back in time, to the very first time I mind walked, my time in jail.
I was sitting in my cell, reading, when the metal door banged open and one of the burly guards, usually stationed by the front gates, announced that I was to get up, make myself presentable, and come along. Wearily I stood, grimacing as my muscles burned from the morning’s closely watched work-out in the local gym.
He directed me as to where I was to go, flanking me until we reached a dead end. There was a door to my left with a number 15 written on it, and I spat on the floor. Typical, thanks for choosing my least favourite number… Not.
The room was badly furnished, with only two chairs. One of the chairs had straps hanging off of the arm rests and legs. Mine, of course, I should’ve known. I was ordered to sit down on the chair, and then strapped to it, the bands restricting my movements and making it almost impossible to shift my position to a more comfortable one.
“We’ve decided to do a little experiment on you, as well as a couple of the other offenders here.” A voice sounded from all around. Glancing up, I could see that there were speakers hanging in every corner of the room, and video cameras were stationed at regular intervals around the room, each one surrounded by five glowing lights. “What it entails is giving you energy shockwaves to try and change the different atomic thoughts in your brain so that you become a better person.” The person speaking coughed before continuing in a drone and voice completely devoid of any change in the way of pronunciation. “Side effects may be tiredness and permanent headaches.”
“May I say something?” I asked meekly, slightly worried at what was going to happen. But I didn’t get a reply. The lights in the room blinked out of existence and the only sound left was my breathing.
It started with a whirring, almost like a printer. And then the light came. It was weird, because none of the bulbs set into the ceiling were on, and it was just like a sun, growing bigger and bigger in the middle of the room until it blocked out my vision in a dazzling, but painful, burst of light.
I gasped as my forehead grew awfully hot, and my vision went black around the edges, as it does when you’re about to faint. But then I sighed. If this was all they could manage, then they really were silly, ignorant people, content to sit back and watch someone sitting peacefully in a chair with only a migraine that would disappear after a while any way . I’d been through worse, after all.
The first time I went wrong. And it wouldn’t be the last.
Swirling patterns took place in front of my eyes, replacing the huge sun, which had left its mark on my retinas, even when I blinked. Hypnotizing lights bobbed up and around my head, swaying when a beat sounded up an irregular pattern, like a drum. And then it stopped. Nothing, not a single sound was to be heard, just a long silence that filled my ears and made me wonder whether this could possibly be death. And then the tweeting of the birds started. You know what it’s like, when you visit a wildlife park, don’t you? You think you’ve found somewhere quiet to sit and eat your packed lunch, when the tweeting of the caged residents start up.
Almost as if I had been dragged into a completely different world, – which incidentally is almost exactly what happened – I found myself in a dry cave in goodness-knows-where. But I’m assuming that you already know where I was. Exactly – My mind. It must have been midday, and through the cave mouth I could see fields lined by trees; undoubtedly where the birds must have been. Some looked barren and empty; others held wild flowers dotted randomly around the place or were a ripe green. I glanced around, puzzled. What had happened? Where was I? I had to give the people at the prison some credit for this; after all, it’s not every day you get transported to another dimension as quick as a flash of lightning. Although I’m slightly exaggerating there, it wasn’t that quick.
So, there I was, in this cave, completely confused as to where I was and feeling more than a little dizzy.
And I didn’t know what to do. That was the thing that bugged me most, for until now I’d always had a purpose. Either of my own free will or here, at the prison, because that’s the way things worked. Here it was a case of get up, go for a supervised work-out at the local gym, and then go back for some lunch and after that doing some communal service like washing cars. And finally, at the end of the day, we go to bed, after receiving a measly dinner in a plastic container. Simple really, isn’t it? Quick and slick, no doubting what had to be done, a set routine to hold on to. Something to keep our minds in one place in the desolate, unfriendly building the inmates call ‘Hawks Clink’.
At first I did nothing, but reflect upon my life. I thought about my past, my present and possible futures, although only one of the futures that I came up with sounded plausible. And seeing as we’ve got to a stage where I’ll burst unless I tell you, I shall articulate and form those exact thoughts into words.
It all started when I was a kid. I was fifteen and after having had another beating from my dad, I was sullenly sitting in my room, contemplating the possibilities of escape from the mad man who hit my elder sister and me for no particular reason.
That same night, it came to me. There would be no escape from here, unless he was gone. Until the control freak was gone; the person who gave me nightmares. And ringing the police would do no good, as he was one of them.
I remember it quite vividly. It was late, and my mum had gone to bed, leaving my father sitting in the downstairs room, watching TV. Picking up my brass lamp which sat on my bed-side table, I edged down the stairs, being careful not to step on the floorboards that creaked in the hallway. The lamp heavy in my hand I crept up behind the sofa, and I hit him. At the same time it connected with his scull I was already on my way out of the room, hand over my mouth, heavy footsteps following soon after. Vomiting into the bath I shook with fear as the realisation dawned on me that he was not dead.
I remember it in my nightmares, the way he scowled at me through the blood pouring off of his head, that maniac grin, all leading up to the worst beating I’d ever had. I was unconscious for the rest of the night.
I had barely come to when a police officer hauled me up by my arm, almost ripping it out of its socket. I only vaguely heard the way he chanted the usual ritual of how I was being arrested for attempted murder.
And so I was jailed for seven years for attempted murder and my father was sentenced to two years for grievous bodily harm on both my sister and me.
During my time as an inmate I kept in touch with my sister, who bought herself a flat in Kent, far away from the place we had grown up. As soon as I was out, at the age of 22, I moved in with her, to try and keep her safe.
I didn’t do a very good job of it. They found me again, that fatal morning. Sitting in a pool of blood, with her head in my lap and the knife beside me. That was the end. No questions asked, no answers given. I'd flipped, obviously. After ten long years in prison and at the stage in life when any regular person would’ve settled down and got themselves a family by now, I still got nightmares about my past.
The only future that sounded in the slightest bit sane to me was that I would escape from here, and get my revenge on him, and the police. And whilst I was having these thoughts, the place around me grew dim.
Not dim as in getting dark towards the end of the day though. It was a lot different from that dim, which you are undoubtedly thinking of now. First time I noticed it was when I was thinking of what I would do to the guard who had led me to that cursed room. The foliage around the edge of the cave mouth started withering and turning from the nice green it had been, to a mouldy brown. At this point I had ignored it. Plants were plants were plants, weren’t they? It wouldn’t do them any harm to die; they’d just grow back eventually, as all weeds do.
That’s where I went seriously wrong, for the second time. Following the noises of a river, I had stumbled through bushes and over-grown hedgerows, until finally I came to it. But it was empty, the noises of the water gone. And when the sight of some heavily laden fruit trees lured me away to the nearby field, I started gagging as I got closer. And the closer I got, the heavier the stench of rotten apples.
What was this? Was this the works of some sort of god, toying with me? Or was this entirely the doing of the lovely prison wardens and police officers who took pleasure in seeing the inhabitants squirm with displeasure when on toilet cleaning duty in the local hospital? Either way, I wasn’t going to wait to find out. With nothing to confine me to where I was, I set off in pursuit of finding some water, and hopefully some food with it.
Chapter Two
I was freezing. The weather in this odd place mirrored my feelings, strong wind blowing around my head. I was depressed and at wits end. Tramping through fields and fields with nothing to eat or drink all day really did not suit me well. I was more of a laid back city person, preferring to hide in backstreets and small cramped alleyways if necessary, not in the long grasses of the wilderness… And most certainly not one who goes out for daily strolls in the nature, but someone who would rather spend hours secluded in one corner of the gym, entirely alone if I could, doing sit-ups. And someone who always thought ahead, including having provisions. So now I was stuck.
Not long after thinking those exact thoughts I blacked out, right in the middle of the corn field I had been fighting my way through. I didn’t remember anything after that until the time I woke up again.
I was on a sofa in a badly plastered room, a damp flannel on my head. Sitting up disorientated, I barely registered the flannel falling on the floor with a soft thump.
Feeling slightly queasy I focused on some shouts coming from somewhere behind me. Slowly turning round so as not to alarm anyone who may have been in the room, I managed to fix my eyes on a murky brown door. A brown door, located in a wall painted a sickly yellow. I swallowed. I knew this place; it was the setting of one of my worst nightmares.
Shakily I stood up, careful to hold onto settee for support. Stumbling over my own feet as I moved into open space, I lurched towards the door, suddenly aware that the shouting had stopped. For a few seconds I just stood there, hand on the doorknob, petrified as to what would be behind it. Even though I already knew – Or did I?
With a jerk I tugged it open, the handle slick with the sweat pouring off of me in small rivulets. Not bothering to look into my old childhood bedroom, I half ran, half fell down the hallway to my sister’s bedroom. The door was closed, a piece of paper with the scrawled capitals MEGHAN stuck to it with some sellotape. Tracing my finger over the letters I didn’t notice the tears rolling down my cheeks until I felt one splash onto the back of my hand.
Quiet sobbing brought me back to reality, and I pushed the door open, quietly slipping through the small gap I’d created and crossing the room in only two strides. I took her in my arms and held her, stroking the hair out of her face. “Meghan.” I whispered. “Meghan.” She still looked exactly as she had then, sixteen but looking younger, her honey coloured hair falling down her back in waves, reflecting the small amount of light there was. The faint scar on her left cheekbone had been the only reason she’d used make-up. That was, if we had enough money to buy any.
Taking her hand, I pulled her from where she’d been sitting on the bed. She didn’t say anything, but she seemed to have quietened down, so I reached over and pulled the curtains in her room open. Darkness. Complete and utter darkness. There was no other way of putting it, so black was the void out there. Somewhat surprised I let go of Meghan’s hand and put mine up to the window pane. It was warm and felt slightly damp to the touch.
A small cough disturbed my thought process. Turning abruptly I looked my sister in the eyes. Although how could I call them eyes? Pebbles, shiny black obsidian pebbles shone back at me, or at least, that was my first impression.
I couldn’t do anything at first, I was so shocked. I felt my jaw drop open and then something in me snapped. Pushing past whatever it was I raced for the door, slamming it against the wall in my haste to get out.
Unfortunately for me, this brought back the old fear. Having broken or damaged something in the house as children, we would have been dragged around the house by an ear, as punishment for ruining something that didn’t directly belong to us.
Skating around the corner at the end of the hall, I reached the front door after what seemed like an age to me, even though it could only have been mere seconds.
Hesitating, I thought about the blackness that I had glimpsed through the window, but upon hearing footsteps behind me I immediately knew which one I’d rather take.
Tugging the door open so forcefully that any lesser door would’ve broken, I stepped outside, only to find the world around me changed - The birds in the trees singing, and long grass tickling my legs. And when I risked a glance behind me, the front door to the house I’d spent most of my childhood in was gone.
This time she would live. I swore it to myself, that no matter what, wherever it was that this weird place was situated, she wouldn’t die. And I was still making promises of miraculous saves, when the first few drops of rain started rolling off the end of my nose and into my open mouth, quenching the thirst that had been plaguing me since early in the morning.
Crouching down, I let the rain wash over me, getting harder and harder until I was soaking, still in the same position I had been since it had started.
Finally, after what seemed like an age, I stood, I stretching my aching limbs and wincing as I pulled a muscle in my arm.
Life was hard, and I knew it. And although I wasn’t aware of it at the time, life was about to get even harder.
***
Shielding my eyes against the rising sun the next day, I marvelled at its eerie beauty. Single strips of light fanned out around it, touching the horizon that was visible from my perch in a tree. The mixing colours of various shades of yellow and orange gave everything a minute, glowing halo, each strand of grass magnified because of it.
The question of where I was still lingered at the back of my mind, but for now it didn’t seem so important. I just needed to find her again. To save her from whichever fate awaited her in this place.
Not long after that I found myself heading down an embankment upon picking up on the faint sound of flowing water. Flopping down on the damp grass I reached forward and dipped my hands into the water until I could feel the cool freshness of it lapping at my wrists. With one finger I began lazily tracing circles, enjoying the way the liquid parted to let it through, but closed up the space almost immediately. Closing my eyes I basked in the sun until a shadow fell over me. Clouds over the sun, I assumed, and rose, not realising my mistake until the last moment.
A man, on the other side of the river, stood patiently, a gun by his side and wearing the usual attire of the police force. Reeling back, I half tripped, half ran up the slope, desperately grabbing onto patches of grass for some hold. Several times the grass came up in my hand, and I felt myself slipping backwards in my haste to get away.
“STOP.” The voice boomed. I shivered at the authority in the voice but didn’t pay heed to the word, undeterred in climbing up the slope, which seemed to be getting longer and longer the more I climbed.
“YOU CANNOT ESCAPE.” The loud voice said, making my head hurt. “YOU RUN AND DIE… OR YOU STOP AND LISTEN.” Panting, I paused, limbs trembling as I tried to avoid looking back. Almost thoughtfully the voice added, “I have a gun.”
Turning slowly, I warily scanned the other side of the river until I found him again, in the same position he’d been in before… But then again, he wasn’t. Something had changed.
I blinked, clearing my eyes, wondering vaguely whether or not I was having hallucinations. On the man’s head sat a squirrel. A squirrel with a gun slung over its shoulder. Eyes boggling, I found myself fixated, staring at the squirrel lest it move.
“Oh, you needn’t worry, I shan’t hurt you.” It said, cleaning leaping from the officer’s head over to my side of the river. Almost as soon as it hit hard ground, the policeman started to disintegrate, falling apart as old books do after a time if uncared for. The small flakes of him, once on the floor, burst into flowers of many colours; Red, Blue and Purple, all there together, merging into a carpet-like patch.
Still unable to take my eyes off the creature bounding up the slope, I didn’t realise that I wasn’t breathing until I started coughing, bringing up bile and the remnants of the mornings measly breakfast of a few berries I’d found.
“And so it begins.” The squirrel stated.