Chapter 2-4: Ruptured Reality

Since last I have jotted down words in my notebook, I have passed through merely a single location, yet my conscious aches to piece it all together, the muddled mess of visions and fears concentrated within a nightmare.

After reading that meaningful note written by none other than my father, I unlocked a side door in the cafeteria. The room I entered was in a similar fashion as the one I procured that gasoline covered barrel in, cramp and desolate. Didn't find a single item to hold on to, but entering this room didn't prove to be as unnecessary as it first seemed.

Pushing one of the big, rotting wooden boxes aside I uncovered a hole in the floor, most likely an entryway for this facility's sewer system, which was giving an impression of being defunct, judging by the foul odor I couldn't escape no matter where I went. For a lack of better judgement, I went in there, hoping that whatever was in the putrid stone tunnels wouldn't lead to a dead end, be it literal or figurative.

It was not as if I had the option to go back once I made my first few steps on the surprisingly dry stone in the unsurprisingly filthy environment. The path behind me caved in, just like in the spider infested mines. My journey so far has proven to be undeniably linear, including both the old mines and the contemporary underground facility. It was a railroad I was on, with many twists and turns, but no alternative routes. The road ahead was already paved in for me, and it was beckoning me forward. I might as well be walking into my death.

The sewer system only had a few hundred meters worth of tunneling before I reached a makeshift exit of sorts, a pile of boxes stacked on top of each other, just enough for me to reach a loosely attached grate on the ceiling. The sewers were dark, water was dripping everywhere and I was being drowned in a vile stench, almost ready to vomit. To be completely honest, in retrospect, it would have much less horrifying than the turmoil I had to endure.

"Life… Robert… here…"

Those are the words which echoed through my skull, the disembodied, gravelly voice etching into my brain. I am unable to comprehend, let alone describe how unnerved I was by the voice, it was so alien, so abnormal. I felt lightheaded, my ears were ringing, barely had the strength to keep myself standing for a second or two. I must have collapsed on the floor, but I can't recall, for my world blackened as soon as I lost balance.

It took seconds before my eyes could adapt to the sudden burst of a blinding lighting, though I already began to find some of the shapes familiar. As clarity returned into my vision, I stood frozen in place, glancing over every surface in my newfound surroundings, albeit the word 'newfound' was far from the truth, at least in the given context.

I was back in that fisherman's boat, standing in front of the table, looking at the giant map of Greenland. Every object that was there before I was accommodated in the room stood exactly where I remembered it, with perhaps an exception or two. The bunk bed with the rough fabric, a can of tomatoes, a bedside drawer, the chest, the locker, the red jacket I forgot to bring, they were all there, approximately how I remembered them.I would have been at ease, cherishing the room's relative warmth, but I was completely disturbed by the fact I was back here. Was everything I experienced, the mines, the dogs, the pale beasts, just a dream, or was I dreaming right now?

Thoughts were running rampant across my mind, so it was a miracle my muddled mind noticed at a detail that was worthy of attention. There was a different picture above the bedside drawer. I could've sworn on my life that there was a poster about fish measurements, I'd spent an hour looking at it out of boredom. In its place was a similarily sized picture of the very room, as detailed as the realoty before me. Inspecting further, my attention was swayed by the cleae differences between the picture and the actual room.

I was now aware, to my great dismay, that I was contained within a dream or a trance of sorts. Clearly disturbed by its inexplicable nature, I felt in my guts the itch to escape out of it. I have no clue how I rationalized my escape should look like, but I somehow concluded that I should make reality imitate art.

I rearranged the furnishing in the room, carefully moving the ones portrayed in the picture, and sloppily moving aside those that are out of the picture's "field of view". It certainly didn't require any hard labor, just pushing aside a chest and barrel. The can of tomato soup lying down on the floor was back in the shelf, and as a cherry of top, shards of glass from the whiskey bottle scattered around as I forcefully bashed it against the hard, wooden floor.

"No order... without chaos..."

The gravelly voice spoke to me again, my vision a blinding white. Succeeding it was a scenery that reeked of misery, the warm atmosphere of the boat annihilated into the garden of eternal inferno. The wood was burnt to a crisp, the dark room of barbed wires and cold metal illuminated by the crimson light, seeping through the windows like goop. The map of Greenland was now a horrifying rendition of my deepest phobia, dormant in its leathery sheets.

I immediately faced the spot where the door would be, but instead I saw two stone hands protruding through the floor, palms facing up, heels touching, as if they were meant to receive a gift. No other option was left for me other than to search this massacred rendition of the room.

I found one of the cursed leathery eggs in the bedside chest, a poisonous green glow emanating from below it, dispersed by the misty interior of the chest. Enwrapping it with my hands, I glanced back at the table, only to see that green glow glimmering from a spot on the picture. As the twisted logic of this nightmare dictated it, I placed the egg exactly where it was expected. The egg hatched, revealing the cursed eight legged beast, which promptly lunged at me. The moment that the spider leaped, time seemed to gradually slow down, until a flash of white appeared before my eyes. After it passed, the spider was gone, as if it never existed in the first place.

Not a couple of seconds later, in the corner of my eyes I spotted a burst of fire, lighting up the place where the drawer would usually stand on its rickety legs. Upon dissipation, I could see one of those bloodthirsty ferals, gnarly teeth glinting from afar. Such a pity it was lying dead on the floor, I would have let it rip me to shreds if it meant I escaped from this purgatory.

"Sacrifice"

Logic was something that appeared to be absent around here, as there was no rational connection as to why any of the chores I did in there would work. Yet, here I am, standing straight, staying alive. I figured the only reasonable, so to speak, action I could make was to pick up the dead feral monster and hand it over to the stone hands. Surprisingly, it was as heavy as I imagined a creature of this size to be, not something to be found inside a chamber of irrationality. The hands seemed to beckon this carcass, and so I gently lowered it on the palms.

A few seconds of observing the limp body clasped by stone, I recoiled at the explosion of colorful iridescence. It was when my eyes opened that I realized I was standing in a grotesque looking corridor, illuminated by the fires arising from the rotting, sickly brown hands which jutted out of the walls.

I was walking through these hallways of dread, disturbing imagery surrounding me. Walls of rusty, scorching metal, unceasing tingling in my spine, pools of crimson locked behind bars. Everything was of earthly origins, yet so foreign and nauseating, every patch of my body was screaming to get out, every hair standing on its very end. Behind one of the many iron bars I witnessed the replica of the incinerator itself, a pair of hands stretching outwards towards me, the embodiment of my remorse haunting me everywhere I went. I am so sorry, Silver. I am so, so sorry…

I've no clue how much time I spent wandering through these hallways with the urge to shriek, knowing full well that no one was coming to save me. Eventually, a startling loud noise echoed through the hallways, familiar shrieks of something enormous closing in on my position. I couldn't see what it was, but considering everything up to this point was a figment of my memories combined with my now tainted soul, it could have well been that annelid again, ready to devour me, leave no trace that I ever stepped foot inside the mines.

I ran, sprinting forward with no clear goal. I had no idea where I was about to end up, yet I pushed through, fearfully clawing my way through the many wooden planks in my way. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think straight, all I knew was that death was lunging at me from behind. And after a while, there was the light at the end of the tunnel, and I jumped towards it as if I was tackling it to the ground. No words could describe how I felt back there, but a surge of relief came through me as I was basked in the white light, a gut feeling telling me that this chapter was finally over.

I woke up from this horrible dream, finding myself in the same spot I blacked out at, as was expected. I would have definitely been relieved about it, if it weren't for the fact that a chunk of it carried into reality. That ghastly voice followed me here, a fragment of my mind dedicated solely to its existence, the existence which seemed to baffle the voice itself.

"Hello? Hello, is anyone there? Why am I here? Who am I? What is going on!? Hey, I am having a ln existential crisis here and you can't even say a single word."

I was completely shocked, to say the least. I didn't know what was happening to me. It was very clear to me that my condition has seriously deteriorated in these last few hours or so, and I began to ponder if some of the reasons for that were related to this place's secrets. I have yet to find the source of that Prechaos, and contact it. I had to know what ot relayed to my father, so I could understand why he sent me that letter.

I can hear the voice mocking me as I write this. For something disembodied, it has a lot of pent up spite and its remarks are full of snide. I better be careful while traversing through these halls.

Chaos only knows whether the entity inside of my head is capable of more than simple verbal communication.