*Author's note*: This story is in the process of being rewritten. I will begin posting the revised chapters once I have created a decent buffer, which will take time. It will also be posted as a new story, while this version will be kept up but otherwise cancelled. Until then, here is the Long Awaited and Overdue Chapter 8 that's been stuck in creative hell for the past three and a half years. Enjoy!
(R.I.P. AlfonsoLing, you will be missed.)
Chapter 8
Down The Rabbit Hole
The sound of a phone ringing was the next thing that I remember. It was so sudden, that my eyes shot open and I straightened up in my seat. The phone rang a second time before being picked up by a curly haired woman wearing glasses who was sitting behind a desk. I scanned my surrounds. The desk was about two and a half metres in front of me, and behind it was an office with windows and a windowed door. Inside, sitting at a desk, was a balding Caucasian man who looked to be doing some paperwork. Four other doors, two on either side of me, were on the adjacent walls. Two doors were on the right wall and lead to another office and a file room respectively. Another two doors were on the left wall and were separated by an alcove, an alcove that I half-assumed had a window based on the amount of light originating from it. The farther door was to a third office, and the closer one was to the domain of the school nurse. Looking down, I saw the familiar blue-gray carpet and the chair I was sitting on; a bar frame chair with a black cushion for the seat and thin rectangular foam pads on the arm rests. I didn't have to look behind me to know that the wall had a trio of thin floor-to-ceiling windows, and the doorway on my left, which jutted half a meter into the room and lead out into the hallway, was in my peripheral vision. I was clearly in an office, and not just any office, but the one at my first elementary school. Just to be sure, I spun my head around and glanced out the windows. The white wall and the light brown elevator outside confirmed it. This was surreal. Seemingly nothing had changed. As I brought my head back around, my mind dug up a memory from when I was in the second grade.
I had run into the office, crying uncontrollably, with my hand pressed against my temple in an attempt to stop the profuse bleeding after a fellow student's botched stunt sent a toy truck flying into my right temporal. I've always hated needles, and the though of getting stitches terrified me.
"Excuse me, sir," Returning to the here-and-now, I saw that the redheaded receptionist had finished her business on the phone, "Can I help you with anything?" she asked politely.
"Uh- No," I stood up and walked toward the door, "I'm good."
"Alright."
The hallway floor was still the same, as reminiscent of marble as ever. The same went for the staircase to my right, which lead to the third and first floors. Dual black grip-strips were attached to the surface of each grey step. Sky-blue paint covered the walls, lighting up under the bright sunlight that passed through the tall windows on the far wall. To my left was the entry hall. A large arch filled with small square panes of brown tinted glass, spanning over three sets of wood grain double doors with showcases on either side, sat front and center facing a staircase. On the other side of the entry hall was another staircase, a mirror image opposite of the first staircase, and a barely visible hallway leading away from it. Ahead of me was an extensive hallway with class photos and brightly decorated bulletin boards occupying the walls between classroom doors. I found myself walking down it, stopping a few meters in to look at a photo dated early 2004. The photo had been taken in the courtyard at the top of an A-shaped ladder, giving it an aerial view; a fact cemented in a forever frozen moment with the ladder's shadow being cast on a number of students. Among the sea of restless first graders was my seven year old self, shielding my eyes with my hands in order to look up at the camera. I turned and continued down the hallway. At the very end was a sky-blue door with a small, square window on the top half of it. Every door in the school was painted sky blue, and nearly every one of them had their own window, especially if that door was to a classroom. Beyond this particular door was the library, full of books for students ranging from kindergarten to grade 7. I felt the desire to open the door, walk up to the line of late 90's computers, and relive part of my childhood by visiting websites like . However, the window's roller blind was pulled down over it, and there was a lack of light coming from inside. A strong indicator that it was closed. On my right was another staircase complete with another window, and on my left was a small dimly lit room with a tall T.V. cart against the right wall. On the back wall was an old wooden door with a window. The glass was split into six squares. A piece of cardboard had been taped over the window on the other side of the door, obstructing any possible view. Seeing that the door wasn't closed, I walked through it.
I stepped out onto the polished stage, rows upon rows of empty theatre seats before me. Jumping down from the stage, I started up the stout steps that split the rows down the middle. I glanced at the ends of the first few rows as I passed them. Each iron row ender was designed to imitate spiralled vines. Looking up at the high side walls, I saw the rectangular indents where windows had once been decades earlier. As I exited the auditorium through the middle set of double doors, I was aware of the fact that I had gone in a circle. The grey stairs before me descended two whole floors down to the school's main entrance, and two brass colored railings traveled from its top to its bottom, creating three even lanes. The window immediately above the doors was a rectangle divided into three sizable squares. There were five other vertical windows above the entrance itself that were at eye level. They were similar to the window of the stage door, but were bigger, and the three in the middle each had two extra squares of glass. The world outside wasn't as bright as before. To the right of the stairs was a small inconspicuous door. This door was to a side room. I'd been in there once, and it had a tiny bathroom and a great view of the front gate, but I couldn't remember what it was for. The fact that nothing had been altered was becoming increasingly evident. Turning left, I walked past the office and began to descend the stairs. About halfway down, a teenager, obviously too old to be a student at the school, began climbing up the stairs. He was wearing a white button-up shirt and a pair of black jeans. His white hair was a chaotic mess and his yellowish eyes locked with mine. The smirk he was giving me gave off an unsettling vibe, almost as if he knew something that I didn't. I broke contact as he drew near. When he passed me, I stopped descending. I felt as if I had been in a trance for the last while, a half-wake autopilot, and only upon suddenly breaking from that trance did I realised that fact. Turning partway around, I found that he was already on the platform in-between floors, still eyeing me as he walked out of sight. That whole encounter was setting off alarm bells. Continuing down the stairs, I fought the sudden urge to make a run for the nearest exit.
At the foot of the stairs was a door on the left wall that lead into the pre-school classroom, a room that I had spent a short time in before starting Kindergarten. Another bulletin board occupied the wall perpendicular to this door. Reaching the bottom, I turned right; stopping when I saw that the hallway ahead opened up on the left into a big, loft-type room with a glossy brown floor. I had good memories of this spot, as it had been one of the places to hang out back in Kindergarten. There were two bathrooms, the elevator, and a water fountain that I knew were there, but couldn't see from where I stood. However, I could see the second water fountain down the hall, a couple of the benches that lined the far wall of the open room, and one of the foldable-heavy-duty lunch tables next to a structural support pole. I remembered sitting on one of those benches, watching a kid from my class as he played Pokémon on his Game Boy Color. In the midst of mild nostalgia was when I noticed a person, four meters away, leaning against the right wall of the hallway. The person turned his head to look at me, a malicious looking grin forming on his face. He looked uncannily similar to the yellow eyed guy from the stairs and even gave off the same unsettling vibe. I glanced at the familiar set of double doors at the end of a hallway on my right, a hallway that ran underneath part of the staircase. As if on some kind of cue, a group of people, all similar in appearance and age to the yellow eyed guy, stepped out from around the corner and gathered in front of me.
"So," one at the front spoke up, "you're the kid?"
"Kid?" I asked, not sure that I liked where this was going.
"Aiden Daniels?"
I glanced around at the crowd of doppelgangers, as a number of ideas as to who they were and what they would do crossed my mind.
"Why are you asking?" I asked cautiously.
"Because we're here to kill you." The statement was said so nonchalantly that it stunned me for a few seconds.
"What?" I blurted, taken aback.
"Oh sorry, did I say that we're here to kill you?" he sarcastically asked with a smile, his voice unfittingly cheerful throughout, "because I meant to say that we're gonna rip you limb from limb." The shock of his earlier statement wore off, being promptly replaced by panic and a mind full of questions shooting left and right. One question in particular left my mouth.
"Why?" The question was breathless, barely audible as I fought to keep my composure.
"'Cause the boss ordered it." as he spoke, his expression and tone unchanged, I shot another glance at the double doors. There was an exit sign with red, backlit letters attached to the wall above them. I was seconds away from bolting for the doors and leaving this group of psychotic clones behind.
"Ha, that's cute." I looked back at the teenager, "You're getting ready to run. Well, go ahead," he said, pointing at the double doors, "it'll make this more interesting." Immediately after finishing his sentence, the nail of his pointer-finger grew five centimetres in the span of three seconds. It was the last straw. I ran for the doors and forced them open, revealing the pale blue sky of a summer evening. 'By some coincidence, the exit I ran to lead outside right next to the newer part of the school,' is what I feel like writing down for some odd reason, but it was far from a coincidence. I knew damn well where the exit lead; I used to use it every day. The playground was left, the front courtyard was right, and the concrete canopy above me stretched between the two buildings. The oldest of the two towered over the other, and the newer building held the gym, cafeteria, and a dozen other classrooms. All of it was old news to me. I just ran straight for the weathered concrete stairs ahead of me and descended them rapidly, cutting a hard right just before the double doors at the bottom, and sprinting across the Staff parking lot and down the street.
Maybe a minute later, I heard a howl. Looking over my shoulder, I was greet by a pack of two dozen large dogs that were obviously chasing after me.
No, I corrected myself, those aren't dogs, they're wolves. I have no idea how I came up with that conclusion. I was running for my life, with barely any time to think, and I somehow made the distinction between two canine relatives. If I had the air to spare, I would've yelled my thoughts.
What the fuck is going on?!
I turned my sights back to the road ahead of me and veered right onto another street. I didn't know exactly what to do, but I had a vague idea; I was heading for a destination that I knew was close by. Then there it was, maybe twenty meters away and edging into my line of sight; a bungalow with a custom fence, that utilized three different sections of parallel chains that each hung from white pillars, and a fig tree in the middle of the front yard. I practically jumped off the curb as I made a diagonal b-line across the street. To be honest, there actually wasn't a curb on this stretch of street, but that's not all that important. I ran across the opposite sidewalk and onto some grass, passing a red fire hydrant. After running over a perpendicular sidewalk and jumping an actual curb onto a residential street dotted with parked cars, I heard someone yell "Get him!" Glancing to my right, I saw even more wolves running down the cross street toward me. The situation was getting weirder by the second. I looked back at the house, hoping that I had enough stamina to make it to the treehouse in the backyard. I pushed myself to go faster in the hopes that I could outrun the wolves that were quickly gaining. Upon finally reaching the fence, I jumped over it and ran for the walkway that lead along the left side of the house. Halfway across the lawn, I suddenly noticed that the bungalow looked different. The whole thing was reversed, as if it were a reflection in a mirror. I also noticed that the front door had moved to a perpendicular wall, and was slightly agar. Using the last of my energy, I changed course and tiredly ascended the front steps. Pushing open the door and stumbling through, I caught a quick glance of familiar burgundy carpet and a foreign big screen T.V. and sound system mounted on the wall across from me. Whipping back around, I glimpsed the wolves starting up the stairs and used what little energy I had left to slam the door shut and dead bolt it.
I collapsed, gasping for air. The cold concrete floor felt nice against my skin and helped cool me down. After about half a minute of regulating my breathing, I lifted myself off the floor.
"What the fuck?" I managed to whisper. What I had seen on the way into the bungalow was nowhere close to what I saw now. The floor of the decrepit room was littered with boxes and other garbage. Instead of the red carpeting, there was the cold, hard concrete floor. In place of the T.V. was a window that no longer had glass or even a window frame. I looked back over at where the door had been, and found a door. It was significantly different from the one I had just seen, but at least it was still a door. Forcing myself to my feet, I began limping over to the window. I was shivering now. My body felt weak and unsteady, and the beginnings of a headache was brewing in the back of my head. I chalked it up to the adrenaline rush.
The world outside the room seemed similar to that of a European city, except the roads weren't paved and the surrounding buildings looked just as rundown. The room was on an upper floor, and in the distance I could see a gigantic tree that dwarfed everything. Suddenly, a crash and a slam jumped through the air. I turned in the direction of the door.
"Freeze, Police!" was yelled by a booming voice that came from beyond it. Seconds later, I heard deafening gun fire and screams. I covered my ears and stared at the light show that crept under the door. Then it ceased, creating an uncertain silence. I cautiously uncovered my ears.
"You four! Check the other rooms," I heard someone order, "and the rest of you create a perimeter. I want to get every one of these thieving bastards."
Thieving bastards?
That's when it clicked. I returned to the world outside the window, this time looking straight down the side of the building, searching vainly for an escape route. There was nothing, not even the remnants of a fire escape that might have once been, and simply jumping out the window wasn't an option. With a loud slam, the door to the room was violently forced open. I froze in place, still leaning out the window.
"Hold it right there!"
"I'm not armed." I stated, slowly straightening myself and putting my hands in the air.
"Put your hands on your head and back away from the window!" I did as he ordered, and was promptly handcuffed. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney-" He was reading me the US Miranda Rights, which I found strange and out of place. "-You can decide at anytime to exercise these rights and not answer any questions or make any statements. Do you understand your Miranda rights as I've read them to you?"
"Yes." I replied, feeling utterly screwed.
"Then move." He uttered. Grabbing my right arm with an iron grip, he lead me into the other room. I immediately felt uneasy. Bodies littered with bullet holes lay scattered on the floor in pools of blood, a variety of guns and bullet casings were just as scattered about. The brutal sight shocked me into standing still, and in response my arm was given a hard yank and I stumbled forward.
"Easy!" I yelled. What I guessed to be other police officers, wearing suits of armor reminiscent of the Combine Enforcers from Half-Life 2, entered the room yelling things like: "Clear!" "This one's clear too!" "All clear!"
I was presented to another officer, who was standing guard next to what I guessed was the front door to what seemed to be an apartment. The wooden door was wide open, now bent out of shape and full of splintering cracks.
"I caught the fucker trying to climb out the window." my arresting officer announced proudly.
"Good work," the guard said, pausing to look me over, "He doesn't exactly look the part though, and he's not even trying to shake your grip."
"Maybe he's realized that it won't get them anywhere."
'I have nothing to do with this.' That's what I wanted to say, and what anyone would expect anyone to say in such a situation, but I've seen and read enough to know that it wouldn't work. Even if they were to believe that statement, sarcastically or not, the likelihood of them believing that I was 'magically transported here' was zero. Hell, I had trouble believing it. I would've been the laughing stock that made their day.
The guard looked me over one more time before ordering my arresting officer to escort me downstairs. Concrete everything, weathered doors, and aged light bulbs hanging from the ceiling that almost didn't function, that was the hallway. That description is accurate for the stairwell as well, with the addition of creaking wooden steps. Five flights later, I was being lead out the mains doors of the building and toward what appeared to be a swat van. I took a single, wayward glance at my surroundings. In that glance, I found that the sky above was nothing but a mammoth concrete dome.
"So you have no relation to that gang whatsoever?" The blond-haired man standing across from me, whose hair style reminded me of 'The Fresh Prince of Bel Air', wore a blue dress shirt with a white trench coat overtop. His hands were tucked in his coat pockets. He had introduced himself as a detective. Another man sat in a chair beside him. He had short brown hair, and wore a grey lab coat over a black shirt. A funky looking circular contraption attached to the table in front of him, was blasting a blue light at the man's face. It produced the illusion that his face was glowing blue. I was in a long thin room that resembled a hallway, sitting in a steel chair at a wood table. Both ends of the table were against the walls with no visible space between them. I'd wondered, and imagined, how they had managed such a feat. It must have been frustrating. A single light bulb dangling from the high ceiling illuminated the table and its immediate surroundings with a bright circle.
"No." My gaze remained half centred on a far corner of the table.
"Then would you mind telling me why you were there?" He asked, half sarcastic, half accusing. I remained silent. "Well?"
I looked up at him and asked if he honestly wanted me to do so.
"Of course."
I let out a sigh.
Better get it over with.
I told him a condensed version of the story, starting at the office of my elementary school. To me, it was the most relevant to my current situation, and I didn't want to try explaining the other shit I'd been through. In retrospect, I probably should've just said that I'd been kidnapped. Not that it would've mattered. The detective remained largely quiet during my retelling, only interjecting at some points to ask a question or clarify certain details. Once I concluded, I awaited the mockery that was sure to come. He sighed.
"Again with the wolves."
"Huh?" of all the things I expected him to say, that wasn't one of them, "What do you mean, 'again with the wolves'?" He shot a short glance at the seated man, who nodded.
"I can't divulge all the details, but I was talking to an older gentleman about thirty minutes ago. He brewed up quite the storm, yelling about wolves and how 'we need to wipe them out.'" I felt my eyebrows come together, in what I have identified as my 'okay, what?' face. A possible term could be: 'furrowed my brow'. Silence formed as I put together a response.
"A guy who hates wolves," I muttered. "Why does that matter?" I then asked him, "And why are you even telling me this?" Then my brain clicked. I knew where I was. Honestly, I'm surprised that I didn't realise it sooner. The show may not have been the best, but it definitely wasn't forgettable.
"I just found it odd. I don't usually hear about wolves, so naturally it's not something I often think about. But then I interrogate two different people, within and hour of each other, who have had some form of encounter with a wolf." Then, as if it were an afterthought, he added, "Or at least claimed to have." I knew the look he was giving me, a duality of skepticism and curiosity with hints of accusation and suspicion. It made me shift in my seat. Before I could look off in another direction, three loud knocks echoed from behind the two men.
"Lebowski," a figure half emerged from a door on the far wall, waiting for the detective (or should I say Lebowski) to turn around before continuing, "Degré is here."
"I'll be right out." In response, the man retreated, leaving the door ajar. "I'll be back in a few minutes." Lebowski said over his shoulder while walking away. He then stepped through the door and shut it behind him.
The room gave way to relative silence. I'd never been interrogated by police before, and what had lead to my arrest was unfathomable. It wasn't that bad, though. What truly bugged me was my lack of knowledge on what I was experiencing. Why was I being inserted into anime? What was the insanity in-between? Who is the girl, and how is she doing this? To top it all off, how long I'd be stuck in this situation was unknown. Nervousness and confusion began to reign over my emotions. I could feel my headache worsening. My right leg was performing a short traveling up and down movement. I needed to get up. I needed to walk around the room and calm myself. Upon moving to stand up, I was berated.
"Stay seated." And so I stayed seated. After a while, I managed to calm myself down to some degree. My leg didn't stop, though, so I had to physically hold it down for a few seconds. Time ticked by at a snail's pace. Soon, the circular contraption drew my attention. I debated whether or not to ask what it was, and opened my mouth a few times only to hold off at the last second. Finally, I forced the words out.
"What is that?" I briefly raised my hands to pointed at it.
"It's a computer." He stated, sounding somewhat surprised that I didn't know that already.
"How is that a computer?" He gave me a look. "Just asking."
"Asking how this is a computer, is like asking how my Polaris is a car."
"What's Polaris?" He looked at me with disbelief.
"That's it. No more questions."
The room fell quiet once more. Time continued to travel like molasses. I gazed down at my lap and began fiddling with my fingers. After what felt like a couple of minutes, I heard the man mutter to himself.
"Where the hell is Lebowski?" I looked up in time to see him lower his watch. Quiet overtook the room again, and I returned to my fiddling. Another few minutes passed, and I had moved on to examining my knuckles and the backs of my hands. A feeling of unease had rooted itself in my gut, and I was trying to ignore it. Suddenly, the room shock violently. I had barely registered it when the shaking subsided seconds later. An industrial fire alarm sounded nearby.
"What the fuck was that?" I asked no one in particular. The man got up from his seat and almost immediately lost his balance due to a second quake. He managed to stay upright by grabbing hold of the table. Dust fell from the ceiling and cracks were forming in the walls. I held onto the side of my seat as the chair shimmied along the floor. The quake faded. The lamp above us was swinging back and forth.
"That's no earthquake..." He said aloud. A third quake, the strongest one yet, sent him to the floor. Cracks continued to form and grow in the walls, and small pieces of ceiling were falling down on us. The floor under the table began to collapse in on itself. Panicking, I used my feet to push myself and the chair away from the table. Seconds later, the floor fell away, and the man fell with it. His screams slowly faded into nothing. The room settled. I sat frozen in the chair, breathing heavily as I stared into the newly formed abyss.
"What the fuck?!" I whispered in shock. After a few moments, I collected myself and got to my feet. I stood with a foot in front and a foot behind with the expectation of a fourth quake. There wasn't one, at least not yet. The table was still there, wedged at a barely noticeable angle between the walls, escaping the fate of a seemingly bottomless pit. I wondered if it could withstand my weight. If so, I could make it to the door. Taking a deep breath, I hesitantly stepped over to the edge, ready to jump back if needed. No light came from the pit. The distance to the table was about a metre. A running start and a good jump was all I'd need. Out of nowhere, the door was blown open by a small explosion. I snapped to attention, watching for what would emerge from the fresh cloud of dust and smoke; the ringing of the alarm was now piercing my ears. The silhouette of a person became visible, then-
"Found you!" I couldn't believe who I was looking at. I blinked a number of times, and found that I was indeed seeing this. Standing there, with a conniving, mischievous grin, was the, or one of the, white headed psychos. The room shock once again, sending cracks through the floor. Before I could do anything, the ground below me crumbled and fell away. I tried to reach for the table, but missed by a mile. Thus, I found myself tumbling down into darkness.
By the time I'd opened my mouth to scream, I had landed, back first, on something with a small bounce. The bounce had a familiar sound and feel to it, and upon sitting up, I found out why. I was in a familiar bedroom with white walls, on a familiar bed with a white blanket that had a surplus of yellow, hollowed circles on it that overlapped each other; there was more yellow than white. In the corner, atop a short, white, L-shaped shelf, among two short stacks of darkly coloured clothing and a small collection of VHS tapes, was a black, 14 inch TV with an RCA branded VCR sitting on top of it. The TV, which sat askew from the right angle of the shelf and was aimed in the bed's direction, was bathing the room in an eerie glow. Its screen displayed two Tyrannosaurus-rexes stalking up on a camouflaged Mercedes outfitted for off-road travel; an image I immediately recognized. That whole RV scene used to scare me growing up, and this part in particular would prompt me to retreat into the hall and sheepishly sneak peaks from around the corner.
I quickly glanced around the room. Against the right wall were two dark wood dressers; one stout and wide with a mirror, and the other tall and thinner than the first. Near the foot of the bed, centered under a wide window, was an old steam radiator. The window, I knew, was situated above the front steps that were outside. White blinds obscured its view overlooking the front yard. To the left of the window was the shelf. A small part of the shelf, about ten centimetres of it, was under the window and almost touched the bottom of the window sill. More clothing, all dark in colour and stacked as best as possible, occupied most of the shelving space. A neat stack of magazines sat in a corner on the bottom shelf closest to window.
As the TV showed the frantic pumping of a gas peddle, I got onto my hands and knees and crawled to the corner of the bed. Then I swung my legs around and over the side, and stepped up to the TV. I stared at the screen for a moment, watching a T-Rex eye a balding man through a car window, before hunching over and running my fingers along the bottom. In the left corner were four colored lines in vertical sequence: red, yellow, blue, green. Next to them was the word 'Trinitron'. In the opposite corner was a sizable square button accompanied by a tiny LED that glowed red. To the button's left was a rectangular panel that was located off center. The deep seams on either side and the etched 'push' prompt on its high center told that it could be opened. With pressure applied and a click, the panel swung down and revealed a row of dials for adjusting the picture and a small grey button devoted to switching between color and black and white. There was no doubt about it. This was the TV that used to lull me to sleep, the one and only that my N64 fell off of and behind one winter morning, the screen that my sister and I had used for our first watch of The Ring, the primary machine for my young entertainment needs. I moved my hand in and clicked the grey button a couple times, the picture reacting accordingly. It was then that I realized it. My hands were no longer bound by the tight grip of handcuffs. Before I could give it any thought, the door bell rang. I straightened myself and half turned toward the bedroom door behind me, wondering who it could be. The door was wide open. A ceiling light right outside brightly illuminated the burgundy carpet, the uneven white paint of the walls and ceiling, and the closed hardwood door across the hall which belonged to the large bedroom that my brother and I had shared but I had hardly slept in. Light formed a skewed outline of the door frame on the hardwood floor, and gleamed against the glass of the old door handle. The door, which swung inward and to the right by design, was stationary and within centimetres of the right wall; it didn't quite hide the door-less closet that it arched into. To the door's left was the bed, which was against the wall and sat on a hand crafted bed frame without a headboard. On the wall above it hung two small frames with the face surface area of a hard-cover novel. The first was of simple glossy black metal and encased a still life of a male deer in a meadow, its gaze turned in painter's direction; the second was a tangle of vines moulded into cheap pink plastic that surrounded a white canvas with three pink rose painted along the left side. Both of them were adorned with poetic text. There may have also been a small cross of dark wood with a tiny Jesus attached, but I can't quite remember. After a moment, I turned full way around and walked out into the hall.
Looking back on it, that room was off as well, or maybe from an earlier point in its use. My mom's desk and computer weren't in the corner oppose the white shelf, and I remember the mirrored dresser being in front of the window, which in turn means that the heater was actually to the window's right.
To the left was the bathroom. It was the only one on the main floor, and had been renovated by my dad with the theme of light pink and red roses. I had watched him mix the cement and place the tiles. Directly opposite the dim bathroom, was the dinning room at the end of a short hallway. Rounding the corner without pausing, I walked passed the tall mirror mounted to the right wall and then passed the thin and shallow storage closet built into that same wall. A large window occupied the back wall; the curtain was shut, but if one were to peak, all there would be to see was the yellowed siding of the bungalow next door. A light wood table with six matching chairs sat in front of the window. It'd been well used before my mom had purchased it, the various nicks in its surface and the chipped edges and corners were prove of that, but it was sturdy, regardless. The burgundy carpet ended at the doorway to the kitchen, which was left from where the hallway ended; the door was hardwood framing a formation of glass that was oval-esk in shape. To the right of this, in a shallow alcove in the middle of the wall, was a semi-circle of polished wood with two long golden hollow cylinders hanging down from within it. I never knew for sure, but I always thought it provided the sound for the door bell. Heading left under the barely pronounced archway, I came to the living room. However, instead of approaching the front door and peeking through the iron grate peephole, I walked over to the two large windows on the far wall.
A large Toshiba television sat on its black stand facing a simple pink Victorian style three cushion couch. In the left corner behind the TV, positioned at an angle, was a china cabinet that matched the dinning room table. A long wooden case was between the right wall and the back of the couch; a glass mini tree, a few oyster shells and a few other decorations were set atop it. Before the couch, the right wall fell away to form the entryway. The door of darkened wood faced the street along with the windows. My blue N64 was hooked up to the TV and sitting to the left of the stand next to a merger stack of games. All four of the controllers, while plugged into the console, were in a tangled mess in the middle of the floor. I stepped over them and up to the window, taking a peek through the burgundy blinds. It was dark out; the street lights were dark, not a single light was on in any of the neighbouring houses, and the stars couldn't be seen. Strangely, I could see just fine due to an unnatural amount of moonlight that was originating from... somewhere. The family van, an '88 Plymouth Voyager in straight burgundy with a roof rack, was parked along the curb by the black iron gate. It was the only vehicle in sight. I reasoned that whoever was at the door was someone that I didn't know. Then, a ghostly wail from a stock sound effect website rang in my ears loud and clear, and there, at least two meters in the air above the street, I glimpsed a ghost of smoke, and it was HEADED TOWARDS MY FRONT DOOR!
As stupid as in was, I was immediately scared shitless. I spun away from the window to make a run for it, only to trip on the mess of cables. Suddenly, I was in a grappling contest, struggling in vain to escape from their tightening grasp. Then came the knocking; loud bangs that quickly grew in speed and ferocity. I was full on panicking, desperately clawing at the carpet with my right arm to no avail. Soon he'd break down the door and I'd be-
I shot straight up, rapidly pulling in and expelling air.
"Whoa man! You okay?" a cracking, preteen voice asked with concern. I looked up to see a group of kids gathered around me that, if I had to guess, were somewhere around the age of thirteen.
"Yeah, dude. It looked like you were having a heart attack." more words of concern came from a kid with lightly tanned skin. He had short black hair with a large cowlick, and wore white trousers, a green varsity jacket with some blue and red shield on the right breast and a yellow pocket on the left, and a dull yellow shirt with 'GO!' enthusiastically embroidered overtop a dull purple stripe.
"Were you dreaming about demons?" a tall girl asked with a hit of fanaticism. Her long hair, a mix of violet and silver, was tired into a ponytail with what appeared to be a pink ribbon. She wore a sailor uniform(dull purple V-neck with a light gray line and a yellow ribbon attached, light gray top with yellow pocket on left abdomen and a triangle notch cut out at the bottom center, dark gray shirt with a light gray stripe along the bottom) and dark gray thigh-high stockings. I looked at her with utter confusion.
"W-what?" I blurted, before spinning my head at my surroundings. I seemed to be in a dark hallway with a floor and walls of neglected wood, and a lengthy row of windows that were pitch black. "Where the hell am I!" I then demanded.
"You're in the abandoned school building," another girl spoke, hopelessness clear in her voice as she consoled a young child, "trapped like the rest of us."
*Author's Note 2* I've stayed up until four in the morning to finish this, and I'm not going to be liking myself in a couple of hours, but it's finally done. Hope the wait was worth it!