tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3680775522055036002024-02-21T02:21:24.355+01:00A collection of bizarre and/or creepy storiesHere you can find the results of my hobby: writing.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger8125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-368077552205503600.post-58568678712263231632019-06-30T18:19:00.004+02:002019-06-30T18:41:26.637+02:00That thumping sound<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<br />That thumping sound<br />Date written: July 2019</h2>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red;">-I-</span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red;"><br /></span></b></div>
The thunder and lightning raved on, along with a mind numbing and droning, rhythmic thud, as I stand before the window, still not entirely understanding where I am. I don’t dare to look behind me, scared of what I’d find. As I stand there, the music goes on uninterrupted in the background as if nothing is out of out the ordinary, as if I have nothing weird is happening whatsoever. The thumping bass goes on and on and on, almost in sync with the thunder rumbling above in the sky. Bright flashes of lightning light up the sky every once in a while, but are nothing in comparison to the rumble that goes on in the apartment in which I’ve been for the past… I don’t even know how long it’s been.<br />
<br />
I hesitate to look over my shoulder, my hands are on the bars in front of the window. My eyes are still following the flashes in the sky which brighten up everything around me. Jesus, I’ve never seen a storm with lightning this often. Every other second the sky lights up and a rumble follows not far behind. But the storm doesn’t bother me… The constant musical, thumping sound does. I haven’t been able to get a moment of mental rest the past few minutes... hours… days? weeks?<br />
<br />
What… what exactly have I been doing? And with whom? What the hell am I rambling about, I don’t even know where I am! I turn around slowly and look at the room I find myself in. The room is only slightly illuminated and I can’t see much of what’s going on. As the lightning and thunder make their presence through the window I am still standing in front of and the skylight in the ceiling, I can only rapidly see several people spread out throughout the room. Yet nobody’s moving.<br />
<br />
“Hello?” I call out, but seconds pass and no response.<br />
<br />
I look through the small apartment which has white undecorated walls. It is a small apartment with no separate bedrooms and only a small bathroom is what it looks like. The bathroom is to the left of me and has the door opened. I take a quick glance into it and flick the switch, just to see if I can find something of interest.<br />
<br />
No dice, the light does not go on. I try to make out some stuff as soon as another lightning flash makes its way through the sky and into the apartment and I manage to find something lying on the floor in the door opening. I pick up what seems to be a small book, or a notepad or something. The pages are slightly wet, probably from the floor which I assume had some water on it. I open the book and flip through the pages, trying to find something interesting to read, which might explain a little bit more about what’s going on. I end up reading through one of the final entries:<br />
<br />
<i>“I’ve taken all the steps, I’ve done everything I’ve been asked for and still, no progress. Fuck, I’ve made all this effort and I’m still here. Seriously, how many times do I need to go through this shit until I can get out of here? I mean come on, I pressed all the buttons, I’ve listened to all the shit and I watched all the videos. Is that not enough? I thought that’s what had to be done, just be obedient and go along with whatever. Isn’t that usually the case in this kind of situations? No, I won’t look back. It is what it is, I did what I had to do. God this fucking music is killing me, I can’t think this way! Come on, what the fuck do I need to do to stop this shit!!!”</i><br />
<br />
All the time, this constant beating, rythmic sound has been going on and on, making it almost impossible to think. Is it the same music as is written about in here? I mean… It is very hard to think with his constant pounding noise around...<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-368077552205503600.post-85900265627646974502015-04-19T16:06:00.001+02:002015-08-16T02:13:50.660+02:004.5/5*<h2>
<div style="text-align: center;">
4.5/5*</div>
<b><div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Date written: </b>April 2015</div>
</b></h2>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red;">-I-</span><o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>All in all, very satisfied.</i></b></div>
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I invited my college friends over to relax and have a chat
at my place a while ago. There were 5 of us in total. These were my better
friends from the college that I had attended a few months prior. I would’ve
invited more people, but frankly I’d always been very picky about who I spent
my time with.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We were talking about the things that most people in their
early 20s would talk about for a while. Sex, parties, college and work. Well, I was the
only one in the group that had a job. The rest was still attending college.
Nothing was much out of the ordinary until one of my friends brought up the
subject of the ‘exit bag’. Now, personally I had never even heard of the
phenomenon and I was quite surprised about how he got the idea to bring up the
subject. So what was this exit bag exactly?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Just imagine being stranded in a desert, in the scorching
heat, without food or water and no signs of civilization for hundreds of miles.
That’s when you need an exit bag. You know how they warn kids not to play with
plastic bags and tell them not to put them over their heads to avoid
suffocation, right? In this case it’s exactly the opposite. Personally I think
it’s a sick tool and it’s a disgusting way for a production company to make
money, but oh well.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This wasn’t quite the thing that sparked my interest though.
One of my friends took her phone out of her pocket and started searching for
some images of the exit bag. We ended up talking about some products that
Amazon had to offer. While she was looking for the pictures of the exit bag,
she stumbled upon the Amazon web store. Playfully, or jokingly, she told us
that someone wrote and sold a suicide self-help book. At first we all
thought that it was a book aimed to help people get rid of their suicidal tendencies,
which would be a good thing. But when she started reading through the content
summary, we quickly realized that it was quite the contrary.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Someone actually wrote a book to help people pick
the suicide method of their choice. What surprised me the most wasn’t that
though, truthfully. I mean, sick minds exist, there’s nothing that can be done
about that. But the fact that Amazon actually sold them was quite unsettling.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘No reviews. Average rating: 4.3 out of 5 stars. Not bad,’ Melanie said to me as she turned off her phone.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Interesting subject… moving on,’ my other friend replied,
who never was too much into weird or controversial topics.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Interesting indeed, I thought to myself.<o:p></o:p></div>
<b><br /></b>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red;">-II-</span></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I woke up the morning after with a headache. I had one too
many drinks the evening my friends were at my place and I only slept a mere 5
hours. But, work was calling so I left home around 8. I couldn’t concentrate
much that morning. My head was killing me and I had an odd feeling pressuring
my chest.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It wasn’t pain, it was more like a gnawing feeling. It felt
like I was urged to do something, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it
was exactly. It wasn’t until lunchtime that flashes of the conversation of the
previous night reappeared in my head.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Melanie messaged me on Facebook in the afternoon.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Good times yesterday,’ she wrote.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Haha, yeah. I got a bit of a headache. Can’t wait to get
off work,’ I replied.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Interesting conversations too.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Yeah, what was that all about…’ I said to her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I looked around to see if people were looking at my screen
or in my direction. I remembered after her message that we talked about
that strange suicide self-help book. Hesitantly I opened a new browser window
and turned on incognito mode. I looked away from my screen again and found that
all my colleagues were focused on their own work. After a few seconds I started
typing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The urging pressure that I had felt all day decreased as I
typed in the Amazon web address. As the page loaded, I let my fingers glide
lightly over the laptop's keyboard. Right…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Suicide self-help
books</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I noticed that the autofill function stopped working after
typing in half of the first search key word. I pressed enter and looked at
the product offer. There weren’t many results that precisely matched my search
criteria. In total there were 9 products, of which the first one was the book
that Melanie described the night before.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I felt nervous as I clicked the link to see the book in
detail. I gazed around nervously, afraid of what my colleagues would think of
me if they noticed what I was looking at. My heart started pounding faster
as I hovered my mouse over the image of the book cover to closer inspect it.
The cover didn’t hold much information. It was mostly dark grey, without a title
or the name of the author written on the cover.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
From what I could gather from the image was that the book
was a hardcover without any images to decorate the outside of the book. I
selected a picture of the back of the book and it was empty. No picture of the
author, no information about the contents.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I looked at the general product information. The book
received an average rating of 4.3 out of 5, based on ratings of 247 buyers. It
cost €20. I wanted to check out the reviews for the book, but as I hovered my
mouse over the review section I got a pop up stating:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>---There are no reviews
for this product yet. Be the first one to review this product by logging in or
signing up for an Amazon account.---<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It didn’t strike me as strange before, or at least I didn’t
realize it, that a book that aims to help people in their suicide decisions received
so many positive ratings.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As I sat there for a short while, simply looking at the
page, I could feel my curiosity for the contents of the book increase with
every second. All of the sounds and visuals around me blurred out completely
during the time I was looking at the grey cover. I felt… mesmerized by it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Sam! Your phone is ringing!’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I instinctively hit ALT-F4 to quit the browser as soon as my
colleague’s words got through to me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Sorry, my bad,’ I replied to him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Stop day dreaming, I don’t want to have to call you 5 times
every time your phone rings. Some of us actually do some work around here.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" />
</span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"><b>-III-</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What the hell was going on with me? I couldn’t get that book
out of my head. After I closed the Amazon website that day, the pressuring urge
returned. I began to realize what the urge was exactly. It was the urge to
revisit the page, to look at the book again. But why did I feel so attracted to it?
Perhaps it was because I couldn’t figure out how it got those ratings. It had
to be that. I convinced myself that was the reason I was so interested in it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After a few days I opened my browser at home and went to
visit the book again. To my great surprise, the number of ratings went up by 7.
This gave me a slight feeling of discomfort, knowing that there might’ve been 7
people who decided to take their own lives. 7 within a few days only.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Still… How could this book be rated positively? If the help
that is offered in the book is successful, doesn’t that mean that there should
be no rating at all?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The average rating also went up by 0.1. As I was thinking
about this matter, the thought suddenly came to me that I hadn’t opened the website in incognito mode. I cursed to myself
and quickly closed the browser.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I didn’t visit Amazon for a few days after that. Yet my mind was
constantly with the book. At work I did a lot of research for my job, visiting a
lot of websites. After a while I had gotten accustomed to seeing advertisements
pass on the side or on the top of a website and I learned to ignore them, or at
least my conscious mind did. I’m pretty sure that the subconscious mind however
noticed all the ads that appeared and saved them somewhere in my head. Even the
Amazon ones. The Amazon ads that are personalized by the purchase history,
viewing history, cookies and other data that I agreed to let them place on
my computer.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I woke up one night after having a dream where my
subconscious had shown me the ads that passed by throughout the days. And I’ll be damned that the book showed up as well. I didn’t even visit
Amazon anymore, I tried to ignore the urge that was pressuring me and still the
book came back to me. How did I know it was true though? How did I know those
ads were actually placed on the websites and it wasn’t just my mind playing
tricks on me? I couldn’t know. But I didn’t care.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I jumped out of bed, turned on my laptop
and deleted all the browser files from my system. I logged out of my Amazon
account, downloaded an ad blocker and ran the system cleaner of my anti-virus
system. I must’ve seemed paranoid, but I didn’t want to see the book anymore. I
didn’t want to think about it anymore. I didn’t want to have anything to do
with it anymore.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Days went by and I felt more at ease mentally. The ad
blocker was running smoothly, my computer was clean and I didn’t see anything
of the book anymore. I tried to forget about it as well, but unfortunately, the
pressure remained.<b><br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" />
</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red;">-IV-</span><o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Two weeks went by in total and I forgot about the book
little by little. The pressure on my chest got less strong and I was able to
concentrate better on my work and on my life. Until I got the e-mail.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was near the end of my work day when I noticed that I had
an unread e-mail in my private inbox. As I read the subject line of the e-mail,
I felt a familiar strange vibe going through my body. That dreaded urge lived
up again. I opened the e-mail and read through it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Dear Sam,<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>You added 1 product to
your shopping cart 2 weeks ago, but haven’t proceeded to the checkout yet.
Having trouble making a decision on whether or not to purchase your added
product? Allow us to provide you with a 20% immediate discount on your purchase
and free shipping! We look forward to welcoming you to the Amazon store again.
We hope you enjoy your day and see you soon!<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Kind regards,<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>The Amazon.com team<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
How was that possible? I didn’t recall adding anything to my
cart. I opened my account and looked at my shopping cart. I couldn’t believe my
eyes. How did the fucking book end up there? It couldn’t have been me who added
it? Surely I would’ve remembered it… I covered my mouth and looked around the
work space. Confused, I got up from my seat and left the office early. As I drove home,
the pressuring feeling increased.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I arrived home I put my laptop on the table in front of
me. The urge rushing through my heart, I turned on the laptop and stared at the
screen for a moment. The only thought in my head was: I need to buy it. I felt
it was the only way to get rid of the burning urge. It had been eating me for long
enough. Label me paranoid, label me crazy, but the only way to find out
what it was about this book that got stuck in my head was to buy it, read it
and throw it out right after.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Average rating: 4.5 out of 5 based on 298 ratings. Still no
reviews.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The pressure on my chest was heavier than ever before and
the palms of my hands were sweaty as I walked myself through the checkout
menus. I would occasionally place my forehead on my fingertips and try to convince
myself that I didn’t need the book. But it felt like parts inside of me were
fighting and I had no control over what I was going to do. As my finger made the
final click, the book was ordered and would arrive on my doorstep within 2 – 3
business days.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was a mere 2 days later that the doorbell rang in the
evening. My heartrate increased as I realized that the book had arrived.
Perfectly within the estimated delivery time. I walked to the front door and
put my hand on the handle. I looked through the peephole, looking for someone holding a package, but there was nobody there. While I kept looking
through the peephole, I flicked on the light on the front porch of my small house.
But the porch was empty.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There was no sign of anything that had to do with a
delivery. No van, no delivery person, just an empty street. I didn’t open the
door. It might have just been the kids from the neighborhood who were up to
some mischief. I walked away from the door and looked through my windows to see
if there was anyone hiding next to the door. But no, everything was okay. It
wasn’t until a few moments later that I realized that it couldn’t have been the
delivery, it was impossible at this hour. I looked at my watch and noticed that
it was close to 9 in the evening.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I felt disappointment. I shouldn’t have felt disappointment.
I didn’t have a need for the book, it’s not like I ordered something I truly wanted.
I convinced myself that the feelings I had were just because I had to wait
longer to get rid of the book and the influence it had on me. Reluctantly I
moved away from the window and went to lay in my bed. I put my laptop on my
nightstand and watched some videos before going to sleep early.<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red;">-V-</span><o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I woke up in the morning to the sound of my laptop’s vent
blowing. I slowly opened my eyes and gazed at the green light on the laptop
that was illuminating a very small part of the room. I must’ve fallen asleep browsing
the internet. I moved my hand over the touchpad to get the laptop
out of energy saving mode and while covering my eyes I let them slowly adapt to
the wall of light that the screen started to emit.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It took a few seconds for my view to become less blurry and
I could see a familiar webpage opened. I couldn’t wrap my head around how it
appeared on my screen, but the only explanation I could find was that somehow I
opened it last night because I wanted to look at the book. The moment the
feeling of disbelief faded away, the feeling of a certain attraction lived up. There was no
fear, not even discomfort. The urge in my chest was gone and I felt some sort
of enjoyment watching the empty cover.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The mysterious object. I got out of bed without closing the
website and instinctively walked to the front door. I looked through the
peephole without knowing exactly who or what I was looking for. After a few
seconds I opened the door and walked out. As I was looking into the distance I
didn’t realize that there was something placed on my doorstep and I tripped
over it, face first on the wooden porch.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I turned over and sat down on my knees to check out what it
was I tripped over. The
Amazon logo that was placed on the package by sticker was reflecting the light of the
morning sun. I quickly pulled the box towards me and started unpacking it, impatiently
like a young kid who had just received his first Christmas gift. As I removed
the packaging material from around the book and held the product in my hands,
the mesmerizing feelings I had felt before returned, but even stronger. I
looked at the grey cover and I could’ve sworn that the colors started changing.
Slightly, but noticeable. I touched the cover with my fingertips, turned it
around several times and quickly flipped through the pages.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t know at what time I got out of bed, or how long
I sat there, simply looking at my purchase, admiring it, but after a while I went
back inside the house and put the book on the table. I was late for work already. I
wasn’t worried. Every once in a while employees at my company ran late without
consequences.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I left the house again and jumped into my car. As I sat
behind the wheel, I gazed at my front door for a short while. I felt quite good. Better than I had felt in
weeks. My chest stopped aching and I felt what I could only describe as a
feeling of euphoria. When I arrived at work, my boss asked me why I was late. I
gave him a simple excuse explaining that I had an alarm clock malfunction. He
actually laughed about the way I put it and just like I expected he wasn’t
pissed off at me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Melanie called me later that same day. She was worried about
me. She told me that I hadn’t replied to her messages on Facebook in quite a
while and wasn’t picking up my phone until that moment. I didn’t know what to
say to her. I would’ve wanted to tell her that I did in fact read and had
replied to her messages, but the truth was that I couldn’t remember much from
the past weeks. I couldn’t recall doing or not doing it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As hard as I tried to remember what I had done those past
few weeks, I couldn’t. All I could remember were the things that had to do with
the book. I told Melanie that I wanted to see her and talk about what I had
done in the time we didn’t speak. I apologized to her and we agreed to meet
that same evening. I figured that was the best way to deal with the situation.
I could blow off some steam by talking about everything that had been going on
and show her the book. Perhaps she would like it as well.<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red;">-VI-</span><o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘So talk to me please, because I’m worried about you,’ Melanie
said as she sat down on the couch.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Hm well, there’s nothing to be worried about, really. I’ve
just been really busy.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘With work?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Nah, not really. Just some other stuff.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Like what?’ she asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘I’ll show it to you. Do you remember that night you and the
others were at my place? I think it was like 3 weeks ago or something.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Yeah?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘You searched for this stuff on Amazon, remember? Well look
what I got!’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I pointed to the book that laid on the table in front of the
couch where she was sitting. Her eyes moved to the grey object and she took it
into her hands.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘What is this?’ she asked as she tried to find out the title
of the book on its cover.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘You don’t remember? It’s the book we found. I bought it. I
haven’t read it yet, but I wanted to show it to you. I've wanted to buy it for a
long time now and…’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She cut me off in the middle of my sentence.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘I’m sorry, but what? You bought that weird suicide book?’
she started flipping through the pages.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Why would you buy a sick thing like this? she continued as
she looked upon me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Don’t judge the book by its cover, Melanie. Really, I think
it’ll be a really good read. I haven’t read it yet, but there’s something about
it. I’m really curious about it,’ I replied to her as I was walking around the
room enthusiastically.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She didn’t say anything for a short while, she simply stared
at the book.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Melanie?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Seriously though, why would you buy this? You don’t need
this shit.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘That’s what I thought at first too, but there was something
about it that made me buy it. It has a certain attraction to me. You don’t
think it’s cool? I was hoping you’d want to read it too.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Are you like… playing a joke on me?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘No, I’m not, seriously. I was going to read it tonight and
when I finished it you could’ve borrowed it if you wanted to so you could read
it too! You don’t think that it’s a good idea?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘No… No, Sam. I don’t think that it’s a good idea and I don’t
want to read it. And you shouldn’t either. What is this bullshit about this
thing having an attraction towards you? You’re not sounding like yourself.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I stopped walking around and looked into her eyes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘You’re not feeling the attraction? Just look at the book.
Look at it and tell me what you feel. No wait, I’ll go first,’ I said as I sat
down next to her and took the book from her hands. I stared at it for a moment,
then closed my eyes and felt the pages.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Hmm…’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Sam, you’re scaring me. You’re not behaving like yourself…’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I reopened my eyes and looked at her, irritated.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘I’m the same person I was a few weeks ago. Maybe it’s you
who’s not behaving like yourself.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She got off the couch and grabbed the book from my hands. I
got up as well and stood in front of her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘I don’t know what this shit is doing to you, but it’s a
sick book and as your friend, I’m not going to let you read it. Who knows what
you’ll do to yourself.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Confused as to why she was behaving this way, I tried to
grab the book from her hands.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Give it back to me. You can’t keep me from reading it. It’s
none of your business.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She tried to keep the book away from me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘If you want to be like this and not read the book, that’s
your problem then, but you’re not going to determine whether or not I read it,’
I said to her, angry at that point.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘I’m leaving now, Sam.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Fine! Leave then. But you’re not leaving with the book,’ I
said and I managed to grab it from her hands. I let my gaze slide towards the
cover.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Now get the fuck out of my house.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I saw her eyes tearing up as she grabbed her coat and
walked towards the door. Before she closed the door, she looked at me and
wanted to say something, but it looked like she couldn’t find many words.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Through her tears she managed to bring out a few final words:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Please don’t do anything stupid…’ she uttered before she slammed the door shut.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I stood still for a few moments, staring at the door.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘You know what? Good riddance. At least I can read in peace
now,’ I said to myself.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I sat down on the couch and opened the book. I took some
time to read through the index to see what kind of help the book would be
offering. The Japanese method… The Mexican method… Methods from ancient times…
This should be good.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The anger I felt before disappeared and enthusiasm took over
as soon as I flipped to the first page of the first chapter. Never before had I
been looking forward to reading a book, but this one was different. Eagerly I
read page after page, as quick as I could, storing all the information it
offered in my head. I lost all indication of time and place as I let the pages
take over my mind and body.<o:p></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" />
</span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red;">-VII-</span><o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I finished the book within a day.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But I’m not going to spoil anything about its contents. I think that the experience will be different for every person who reads it. Because of the large variety within the pages, there will be something for everyone. I will say however, that "Chapter 27: Slow acting poisons" was a real eye-opener for me.<br />
<br />
I feel it’s quite an honor to be the first person to review the book. I had a very special experience with it. As you could've read, at
first I was quite skeptical about it. Yet at the same time I felt some
sort of attraction to it. I thought that I didn’t even need the book, but I ended up buying it anyway. I read it and I have to say that honestly, I found
it very convincing, certain parts more than others.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Don’t judge this book by its cover, is one of the things I
want to point out most of all. That’s what I said to my friend Melanie as well
(that’s not her real name, I changed it for privacy concerns). Unfortunately
she didn’t find it as interesting as I did. Perhaps she’ll change her mind
later when she sees the effects it had on me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I guess I can kind of understand why there weren’t any
reviews for this product yet. I probably wouldn’t have had any time to write a
review either if I chose differently.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hopefully my story of the last few weeks will provide a good idea of what you can expect to get when ordering the book. You might think that you don't need it, but don't let that idea keep you from buying it and reading it anyway. It can really change your life.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To make a long story short, because I don't have too much time left, I’d just like to say:<br />
<br />
A very good product. Would
recommend. 4.5 out of 5 stars. All in all, very satisfied.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Pros: Good content, good value for money, life changer</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cons: No author listed</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-368077552205503600.post-28883641945381525782015-03-08T23:32:00.002+01:002015-04-03T11:32:07.415+02:00The old woman's words<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<br />The old woman’s words<br />Date written: March 2015</h2>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red;">-I-</span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red;"><br /></span></b></div>
‘Nobody likes you. Nobody ever has and nobody ever will.’<br />
<br />
‘Not true…’<br />
<br />
‘Yes it is. Why would you think otherwise? What’s there to like about you?’<br />
<br />
‘What do you know about me? Can’t you just leave me alone?’<br />
<br />
‘People just pretend to like you, but everyone hates you.’<br />
<br />
I’m sitting in the back of the bus, there are no passengers but me and her. Her words are poison. I see her every day. And every day she tries to break me down with her words.<br />
<br />
‘You don’t know me,’ I tell her.<br />
<br />
‘Oh but I do. I know everything about you. Even the small things. For instance I know that you take off your shoes every time after you enter your house. Oh yes…’<br />
<br />
I look at the old woman. I feel very disturbed by what she just said to me. Is she following me? She doesn’t take her eyes off me.<br />
<br />
‘Keep following me around and I’ll call the police.’<br />
<br />
She doesn’t respond and keeps staring at me. A grin appears on her face.<br />
<br />
‘Just leave me alone.’ I say as I get out of my seat to get off the bus. It’s not my stop yet, but I don’t want to stay on the bus with this woman. Her presence feels very familiar, but creeps me out regardless. I walk towards the door as the bus starts to slow down.<br />
<br />
‘This isn’t your stop yet. Where are you going? It’s not like you have any friends or family to go to. Nobody wants to see you.’<br />
<br />
I don’t reply to her. I just want to get off the bus as soon as possible. The bus stops and the doors open. I don’t greet the driver and get out. I start walking and the bus drives on. The streets and pavements are empty. As the bus passes me, I look at the window and see the old woman still staring at me. I can see her lips moving and I can make out some of her words.<br />
<br />
‘I’ll be watching you,’ is what she says.<br />
<br />
I don’t understand why the woman is doing this to me. I don’t know her, but for some reason she knows me. I get lost in my thoughts as I walk home. It’s supposed to be a 20 minute walk, but in a blink of the eye I arrive. I snap out of my thoughts and realize that I’m in front of my house. I look around a few times to see if the woman is somewhere, hiding in the bushes or behind a car. But there’s nobody around.<br />
<br />
The streets still are completely empty. I take off my shoes, open the door and go in, closing the door behind me. I lean against the door and close my eyes. I shouldn’t let her words get to me. But her everyday demeanor is messing with my mind. As I stand there, I don’t notice that someone has been ringing the doorbell for minutes now.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red;">-II-</span></b></div>
<br />
That’s not a doorbell. The door of my room blazes open and a wall of light blasts through the opening, almost blinding me. There’s a person standing in the doorway.<br />
<br />
‘Good morning dear, time to wake up! I’ll be waiting for you downstairs.’<br />
<br />
‘Yeah, thanks. I’ll get up.’<br />
<br />
‘Breakfast is ready,’ my wife says as she walks off.<br />
<br />
Close the goddamn door then. I turn off the alarm clock and get up. I feel bad. Every morning I feel bad. These dreams are getting to me, they’re breaking my spirit. They started about 2 months ago and I haven’t been able to live normally since. At first they didn’t bother me, dreams happen. But every night the same kind of dreams? Every night, seeing the same old woman, hearing insults over and over… it gets to me. Then on top of that, I’ve been feeling that I’m not appreciated by anyone. Not even by my own wife. I haven’t had energy for a long time.<br />
<br />
I go downstairs after having showered and getting dressed to find my wife sitting at the breakfast table. She looks at me as I sit down and start eating.<br />
<br />
‘How you feeling today Jeff?’ Joanna asks as she looks up from the newspaper.<br />
<br />
‘I’m fine,’ I respond to her.<br />
<br />
‘Yeah? Did you sleep okay? You look pretty tired.’<br />
<br />
‘I said I’m fine, really.’<br />
<br />
She keeps looking at me. It bothers me.<br />
<br />
‘What? Why are you looking at me like that?’<br />
<br />
She takes off her reading glasses and puts them down on the table.<br />
<br />
‘Alright dear, it’s just that I’ve heard you talk in your sleep for a while now. I worry about you. I mean, I don’t want to be annoying or anything but I find the things you say in your sleep… a bit disturbing.’<br />
<br />
I look at her and ask: ‘What am I saying then?’<br />
<br />
‘Well… I wrote down a few things,’ she says as she takes a piece of paper out of her pocket and unfolds it.<br />
<br />
‘You might want to read them for yourself.’<br />
<br />
‘I don’t want to read them for myself. Just tell me what I’m supposedly saying in my sleep.’<br />
<br />
She puts on her reading glasses again and starts reading with a frown.<br />
<br />
‘Okay. You are saying that you are totally fucking useless. You tell yourself that everybody hates you, that you’re better off not existing. You hate yourself. Then you also say that nobody will ever love you. Everybody is useless except…’<br />
<br />
I cut her off during that last sentence and grab the note from her hand, I crumple it up and put it in my pocket. ‘You’re making this up! Why would you say these things to me?’<br />
<br />
‘I’m not making this up, sweetie. I love you and I worry about you.’<br />
<br />
‘Yeah right,’ I say as I get up from the table, ‘stuff like this really shows how much you love me. I’m off to work.’<br />
<br />
I grab my coat and leave the house. It’s pouring outside. I walk towards the bus stop with my head down, my hands in my pocket, able to feel the crumpled note in my pocket. Did I really say all that?<br />
I stand underneath the small shelter at the bus stop, looking at the drops of rain that fall on the pavement. My head aches. Normally I wouldn’t take the bus, but my brother borrowed our car to go on vacation. He left a few weeks ago. It hasn’t been that bad to go to work using public transportation though, it’s just that I don’t feel comfortable being in the same bus that appears in my dreams. I live in constant fear, irrational as it may be, that this old woman will appear in the seat behind me or next to me.<br />
<br />
As the bus arrives, I look through the windows to see if she’s there. But to my great relief, she’s not. I get in and prepare myself for a mentally exhausting day.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red;">-III-</span></b></div>
<br />
Cubicles. A lot of people fear ending up in one, the hopes and dreams that they had as a kid lost and soon forgotten for they will spend an eternity working in that cubicle. I for one don’t mind working in one. It gives me the rest that I need, it makes it possible for me not having to interact with colleagues.<br />
<br />
As I sit in my workspace I stare at my screen. My mind drifts off to my dreams and the way I’ve been feeling the past weeks. I woke up one morning with an ache in my neck and a headache stronger than I had ever felt before. I had a nightmare that night. I can’t remember much from the dream, except that I was in a room and I couldn’t move. I wasn’t alone, there were people around me. But of course I can’t remember the details of the dream. It’s normal to forget what a dream is about.<br />
<br />
Every night the same type of dreams however, 5 or 6 every night, will help to remember what they were about. And that for 8 weeks. More than 250 dreams where my self-esteem is broken into pieces have made me question my own qualities and the value of my existence. And after each restless night I have to start the same routine where my colleagues don’t appreciate my work, people on the street ignore my existence and then I come home to a wife who says to love me still, while deep down inside I know that she’s just pretending.<br />
<br />
For hours I had been sitting at my desk, overthinking things. I went out during lunch time to take a walk, hoping that the fresh air would do me some good. But who the hell was I kidding. It was raining.<br />
<br />
The same anxiety from this morning takes over while waiting for the bus to take me home. But once again, the woman isn’t there. I haven’t spoken to many people at work and I feel tired as usual. As I return home and enter the house, I greet my wife who is sitting at the dinner table.<br />
<br />
‘Your brother called. He said he’ll bring back the car tonight after 9,’ she says.<br />
<br />
‘Okay, thanks. By the way, I’m not very hungry. I just want to get some rest.’<br />
<br />
‘Are you alright though? You know I didn’t want to bother you this morning with that note. I just want to take care of you.’<br />
<br />
‘I’m alright,’ I lie to her. I go straight upstairs to our bedroom. I close the curtains quickly, making them shift back and forth for a little while. I lay down on the bed situated in front of the window. With a restless mind troubling me, it takes hours to fall asleep.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red;">-IV-</span></b></div>
<br />
‘I told you that everyone hated you. Did you see the way everybody was looking at you at work? How nobody wanted to talk to you? How everyone tried to avoid you?’<br />
<br />
‘It’s not true.’<br />
<br />
‘Do you believe that? You really are stupid. By the way… who were you looking for yesterday at your front door?’<br />
<br />
‘What? I wasn’t looking for anyone.’<br />
<br />
‘Oh but you were though, I saw you. I was there.’<br />
<br />
I’m in the city park, although I don’t remember how I ended up here. The old woman is here as well. I’m not entirely sure where she came from. She just appeared. I look at her while she’s talking to me.<br />
<br />
The woman has very few facial expression. I always assumed that she was old, judging by her grey hair, however she doesn’t have that many wrinkles. I think it’s her creaky voice that creates the impression of an old woman. Her eyes are empty, there’s no life in them at all. When she talks, only her mouth moves, it seems like the rest of her face is glued stuck.<br />
<br />
‘Is there a reason why you are stalking me?’ I hesitantly ask her.<br />
<br />
‘I have my reasons. I just have to do it,’ she replies.<br />
<br />
I get off the bench I had been sitting on and walk away. I look over my shoulder to see if she is following me, but she isn’t. She just stands there with her head tilted.<br />
<br />
‘Going somewhere?’ I hear her ask from behind me as I walk in the other direction. I stop and turn around to look at her, but… nothing. She’s gone.<br />
<br />
I turn back to keep walking. My heart skips a beat when I turn and I look straight into the woman’s dark, cold, wide opened eyes. She grabs me firmly by both arms and starts talking.<br />
<br />
‘I’ll find you again, you know. You’ll never get rid of me. I’ll break you in a million useless pieces and I'll make sure that you'll never be whole again.’<br />
<br />
She lets go of my arms and throws me hard on the ground. I knock my head on the solid rock pathway and I slowly lose consciousness.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red;">-V-</span></b></div>
<br />
I wake up on the floor of my room. Unclear as to how I managed to roll this far out of bed, I sit up. Another nightmare. I look at the alarm clock on my nightstand and see that it’s not even past 11 PM. As I glance past the clock on the nightstand, I notice that my wife isn’t in bed yet.<br />
<br />
Sigh… I stand up and go to the bathroom to get some water. Even though it’s still early night, I don’t want to go to sleep again. As I splash some water in my face and look at my pale face in the mirror, I can hear some voices downstairs. My wife is still up and talking to someone. I listen to the voices, but I can only pick up some of the things they’re saying.<br />
<br />
‘I’m worried about him still. I think he’s even hallucinating sometimes.’<br />
<br />
‘It’s not your fault.’<br />
<br />
‘But it is though, he’s my husband…’<br />
<br />
‘I know he is. And he’s my brother… I also remember how he was before and… he changed.’<br />
<br />
‘You think I should do something?’<br />
<br />
‘You can’t control the man’s dreams…’<br />
<br />
‘…but he changed so much. And I never expected him to turn out like this.’<br />
<br />
‘We just have to accept him for who he is now. Unless you want to involve some doctors in this.’<br />
<br />
‘Shouldn’t I intervene myself? It’s getting worse every day. And I told you about all those things I wrote down. All I wanted in life was a husband who would love me more than anything.’<br />
<br />
I’m not sure what I just heard. The way my wife and brother are talking about me. Over the weeks I’ve been getting more and more convinced that the old woman from my dreams might be right.<br />
I smack myself in the face. Stop it! It’s crazy to think that way, because damn… a dream is just a fucking dream. But everyone around me is either disappointed in me, or thinks I’m worthless. Everywhere, at work, at home. Even on the streets people look away as I pass.<br />
<br />
Confused, I walk back to my room, closing the door behind me. There’s a small glimmer of light shining through the curtains which I hadn’t closed properly before. I know where the light is coming from. Our room is situated above the toolshed that I built years ago. I installed a backyard light system as well which turns on as soon as it gets dark outside. I suppose I should get some rest anyway. I walk towards my bed and the curtains and grab them.<br />
<br />
Just before shutting them, I notice a bit of movement in the light outside. I take a closer look to see what’s moving in the distance. Is it the garden gate that’s open? No, it can’t be. It’s always locked.<br />
It takes me short while to realize that I’m not staring in the distance… I notice that I’m looking right at a pale face, just centimeters away from me. I stumble backwards and lose my balance as I recognize the face of the woman standing in front of the window.<br />
<br />
‘Did you hear the way they were talking about you? I told you that everybody hated you. Do you believe me now? Do you finally get it?’<br />
<br />
Her voice sounds muffled through the window, but the fear she normally gives me only got worse.<br />
<br />
‘You can’t be here. I’m not asleep, I’m awake… I’m awake…’ I say as I slap myself in the face, trying to convince myself of my own words.<br />
<br />
‘Yes, indeed you are,’ she says to me, ‘and so am I.’<br />
<br />
I get off the ground and sprint towards my door. I pull the door handle, but the door doesn’t open. I bash on the door, shouting to my wife and brother.<br />
<br />
‘They can’t hear you,’ she says with a voice suddenly as clear as crystal.<br />
<br />
I turn around and notice that the woman is now in my room. Her black clothing makes her posture very hard to see as the only light that’s shining into the room is the glimmer from the backyard lighting. Her face however, is clearly visible, almost illuminating. I see her gliding towards me, barely moving any limbs to get herself forward. She moves very slowly and keeps speaking to me with only her mouth moving.<br />
<br />
‘They will not help you. You don’t live up to anyone’s expectations. You’re a burden to them and to everyone around you. You’d be better off killing yourself. Or I could do it for you.’<br />
<br />
‘No! Get away from me!’ I shout to her as she is almost face to face with me.<br />
<br />
Suddenly she jolts forward and grabs me by the neck, choke holding me. I try to release myself from her grip, but she’s unnaturally strong. I can’t breathe anymore…<br />
<br />
‘Why?...’ I whimper out with my last breath.<br />
<br />
‘I’m doing the world a favor. You’re totally fucking useless, remember?’<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"><b>-VI-</b></span></div>
<br />
‘Jeff?!’<br />
<br />
‘Get him up from the ground! Put him on the bed!’<br />
<br />
Their voices echo through my head as I slowly regain my vision.<br />
<br />
‘Joanna? Clarence?’ I whisper.<br />
<br />
‘Yes dear, it’s us. What happened to you? You were shouting so we ran upstairs and we found you laying on the floor…’<br />
<br />
I look at the faces of my wife and brother.<br />
<br />
‘Jeff? What happened?’ my wife asks again.<br />
<br />
‘It was her… she tried to choke me. The woman from my dreams…’ I tell her.<br />
<br />
Joanna looks at my brother. He nods to her.<br />
<br />
‘We’re going to get you some help, get you to a doctor,’ she says.<br />
<br />
‘I don’t need a doctor. I’m not crazy! I need a… a… a gun, a weapon or something, so I can get rid of the creep! It’s her who did this to me! We need the police or… you know. Someone.’<br />
<br />
‘Jeff, we know what’s best for you. We’re going to get you fixed up okay? Get you safe again.’<br />
<br />
‘But she’ll find me!’<br />
<br />
‘No she won’t, I will make sure of that, I promise,’ my wife says. ‘Now, get up and get dressed so we can go to the doctor. The doctor can help.’<br />
<br />
I hesitantly get up, get dressed and follow them downstairs.<br />
<br />
‘You’ll be driving, Clarence?’<br />
<br />
‘Yeah, I will.’<br />
<br />
The three of us get in the car and drive off. I sit in the back of the car, my arms folded. I’m looking around nervously, trying to ignore the burning feeling of discomfort that’s rushing through my head. She’s going to get me before we arrive at the doctor. I know it.<br />
<br />
‘Jeff, it’s going to be a long drive, so take some rest. That’ll keep your mind off things,’ my wife says, trying to get me back in my comfort zone.<br />
<br />
‘I don’t feel like taking some rest,’ I reply to her while I unfold my arms. I stick my hands in my pocket and feel something. Oh right… that stupid note. I take it out of my pocket, unfold it and read through it. I didn’t even think about it reading it for myself before.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"><b>-VII-</b></span></div>
<br />
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
Dream talk:<br />
I’m fucking useless.<br />
I’m totally fucking useless.<br />
Why am I even alive?<br />
I don’t care about them.<br />
Everybody hates me.<br />
Nobody will ever love me.<br />
Everybody is useless except my wife.<br />
I deserve it all.<br />
It’s better this way.<br />
People only pretend to like me, but they hate me.<br />
I don’t blame them.<br />
I’m better off dead.<br />
<br />
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
Reading the note gives me some very disturbed feelings. The things I read in the artsy handwriting of my wife match up with the things the old creep tells me. I keep staring at the words… Something isn’t right.<br />
<br />
‘What you got there, dear?’ my wife asks me.<br />
<br />
‘It’s the note you wrote. You know? With the things I supposedly said in my sleep?’<br />
<br />
‘Will you stop looking at that? It’s not helping,’ my brother says as he looks over his shoulder at me.<br />
<br />
‘Keep your eyes on the road please…’ I tell him.<br />
<br />
‘It’s just weird… this list of things. I mean, I’m starting to believe that I actually said them while I was asleep. Because…’ I pause to look up from the note to my wife who turned herself in her seat towards me.<br />
<br />
‘…the woman in my dream tells me these things as well. And I was believing what she said. But something on the note doesn’t match with the rest.’<br />
<br />
My wife keeps looking at the note, then turns her gaze towards me.<br />
<br />
‘Like what?..’<br />
<br />
‘You never noticed that this whole list consists of me hating everything and everyone, including… well… especially myself, yet I happen to speak positively about you?’<br />
<br />
My wife looks at my brother. He keeps his eyes stuck on the road.<br />
<br />
‘You just love me that much. I know you do, and I’m so happy that you do,’ she replies.<br />
<br />
‘Maybe… I just think it’s weird.’<br />
<br />
‘We’re here. This is the address, right?’ my brother says as the car stops. My wife nods. He gets out and opens the door for me. I get out, leaving the note on the backseat of the car. He slams the car door shut and lays his hand on my shoulder. Joanna wraps her arm around mine. We walk towards the freestanding building we parked in front of. The house in front of us is old, but in a good state. It’s not in the city, that’s for sure, but I don’t recognize the immediate surrounding area.<br />
<br />
‘What’s this building?’ I ask.<br />
<br />
‘It’s where we’ll fix everything,’ my wife replies.<br />
<br />
We walk up the stairs and she knocks on the big door of the dark building. This can’t be a hospital, let alone a shrink palace. I want to ask again what kind of building it actually is, but as soon as I open my mouth to talk, the light turns on inside and I close my mouth again. A silhouette, visible through the glass window of the door moves towards the entrance.<br />
<br />
‘Say Joanna, this doesn’t really look like a hospital or doctor’s office. Are you sure we’re at the right address?’ my brother asks as he looks at my wife.<br />
<br />
She doesn’t respond to him and I can feel my wife’s grip around my arm tightening. I look at her. My brother is still looking at her as well, slightly confused by her sudden change in behavior. I try to move my arm a little bit so she would loosen her grip, but she doesn’t even look in my direction as I do so. She keeps looking at the silhouette that’s slowly getting closer and as the door opens I can make out a familiar face. One that I don’t like to see. One that makes me panic.<br />
<br />
‘That’s her! We have to leave! Now! She’s the one that’s been doing all of this to me!’ I shout. My brother looks away from me, and turns his eyes towards the strange figure that appeared in the open doorway. I feel paralyzed and can’t move, my brother lets go of my shoulder, switching his gaze between the woman and Joanna.<br />
<br />
‘Hello doctor,’ my wife says.<br />
<br />
The woman speaks with her creaky voice while looking at me, tilting her head: ‘Good evening. Is something the matter? Oh. I remember you. How are you feeling?’<br />
<br />
I don’t dare to say anything to the woman who’s been haunting me. I turn to my wife and brother.<br />
<br />
‘Please, get me away from her.’<br />
<br />
‘Joanna, what’s going on?’ my brother asks. A few seconds of silence pass.<br />
<br />
Without replying to him, Joanna reaches inside her jacket pocket and pulls out a gun. She puts the side of the gun in front of my face and shoots Clarence through the head without a second of hesitation. My eyes grow large as the noise of the gun rumbles through my ears, followed by a loud high pitched tone caused by the loud bang. My brother falls over sideways onto the hard stone tiles covering the steps of the stairs.<br />
<br />
‘Jesus!’ I yell out.<br />
<br />
I pull my arm out of her grip and back away from her towards my brother. I kneel next to Clarence and look at him. My hand shakes as I move it over my brother’s body.<br />
<br />
‘Shush honey, everything will be okay soon. Don’t worry about a thing,’ my wife says as I sit there in the cold. I take Clarence’s hand and feel his pulse.<br />
<br />
As I look up to Joanna, she continues talking to the old woman, her eyes still focused on me and my brother she just shot.<br />
<br />
‘Things didn’t go the way I wanted them to. Can you help me out?’<br />
<br />
‘You know there’s no refunds on my services, right?’ the old woman replies calmly and appears to be unmoved by what just passed on her doorstep.<br />
<br />
‘I know, I’ll pay you. Just… help me out.’<br />
<br />
‘Alright then. I’m not going to take care of that body though.’<br />
<br />
‘Understood.’<br />
<br />
‘Just give me one second,’ she says while turning around to shuffle back inside. I slowly get on my feet and want to run away, run to the car to drive away and find a way to call the police, but as soon as I stand up straight, Joanna points her gun at me.<br />
<br />
‘Please don’t run,’ she says coldly, with a slight tremble in her voice.<br />
<br />
‘Found it!’ the woman shouts from inside the building. She shuffles back to the door and holds up her arm. ‘It’s easier to get him inside this way.’<br />
<br />
I look at the object she’s holding and as soon as I see the needle in her hand, she jumps forward and smashes the thing in my neck. I drop down on the stairs, next to my brother.<br />
<br />
Darkness takes me…<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"><b>-VIII-</b></span></div>
<br />
My head... I want to hold my head and try to pressure away the headache, but I can’t move my arms. What is this? I slowly open my eyes and try to make out objects in the room. I look to my left and I manage to identify some cutting tools. To the right of me is a chair. I know this room.<br />
<br />
‘Don’t hate me for this, please.’<br />
<br />
‘Who said that?’<br />
<br />
The high pitched beep is still rushing through my ears as I try to recognize the voice. I lift my head to look around the room. My vision is getting clearer by the second. At the end of the table I’m strapped onto I see a familiar face.<br />
<br />
‘Joanna? What’s going on?’<br />
<br />
‘I never wished for this to happen… I just wanted you to love me more,’ she says while her eyes start tearing up. She still has the gun in her hand and she’s shuffling around on the spot uncomfortably.<br />
<br />
‘What did you do to me?’<br />
<br />
She walks to the side of the table. She grabs my hand and talks.<br />
<br />
‘I wanted you to love me more. You never loved me enough. You had so much love to give to everything and everyone in life. But not to me…’<br />
<br />
I look in her eyes which are tearing up.<br />
<br />
‘Why did you make me do this?! Why did you hate me?!’ she suddenly yells at me with a touch of hysteria in her voice. She throws the gun on the floor and clenches her hands around the edge of the table.<br />
<br />
‘What did you do to me? And what did I do?’<br />
<br />
She looks away from me and smirks. ‘What did you do? Do you hear that?’<br />
<br />
She drops down on her knees next to the table and holds my hand while cracking her neck: ‘I… never got the feeling that you truly appreciated me. I… did everything for you. But why would you hate me then?’<br />
<br />
‘I never hated you…’ I tell her.<br />
<br />
‘Yes you did! You did so often! Of course you will never admit it!’ she shouted.<br />
<br />
I look at her, and she just stares right back at me. I don’t know what’s going on anymore. I don’t even recognize her like this. A silence rushes through the room for minutes. I don’t dare to breathe too loudly or say anything. Joanna tries to hold back more tears while she keeps looking at my hand which she still hasn’t let go of.<br />
<br />
Suddenly the sound of a door opening tears up the silence and both of us turn our heads towards the door. We all know who’s entering the room. The same shady old character that’s been creeping me out for a long time. She stands still in the doorway.<br />
<br />
‘Shall we?’ she says.<br />
<br />
‘Yes. Yes, help me out,’ my wife says to her.<br />
<br />
The old woman moves around the room slowly while she starts talking. My body goes completely numb from seeing the figure this close to me, especially now that I can’t defend myself or run.<br />
<br />
‘An interesting one, this guy. I got years of experience with this kind of stuff. I even reconstructed my own body and face. But thousands of operations on my resume and I’ve never ever seen a case like this before. I mean… did I mess up? I might’ve.’<br />
<br />
She rushes towards me after speaking and bends over me, taking my head in her hands, examining it.<br />
<br />
‘Yes… I think I might’ve messed up this time. But, accidents happen. Mistakes happen. I’m human after all. Well, 40% human, 60% plastic and chemicals,’ she says with a grin while turning her head to look at my wife.<br />
<br />
‘What did you do to me…’ I ask her.<br />
<br />
My wife gets up and walks back to the end of the table. The old woman turns back to look at me, breathing heavily. She still doesn’t let go of my head.<br />
<br />
‘You see that woman over there? She is the most messed up human I’ve seen in a long time. She tells me that you don’t love her enough. I tell her that she could be right. Or wrong. Whatever she wants to hear, that’s exactly what I will tell her. She comes to me and asks me if I could mess things up in your brain. She asks me to screw up the way you feel about things. Basically, she wanted me to make you love her more.’<br />
<br />
‘Is this true?’ I look at my wife. She stands at the end of the table, and nods. She then rises her hand and slowly gives a thumbs up, combined with an awkward smile. The old woman forces my gaze back on her.<br />
<br />
‘It didn’t turn out too well for you, I guess. Instead of making you love her more, I apparently accidentally ended up destroying your ability to recognize acceptance and love from others. You didn’t even know how to express your own feelings that remained anymore. All that was left was a destroyed self-esteem and even self-hatred. Oops.’<br />
<br />
I keep listening to the woman, unable to reply to her. Her hands are still wrapped around my head, the only part of my body that’s not strapped down. She continues talking.<br />
<br />
‘She was supposed to get a husband that had nothing but love to give to her. However, at what cost…’<br />
<br />
I find the courage to ask her another thing…<br />
<br />
‘Why were you haunting my dreams? You terrorized me for weeks, you wore me down until I had nothing left to live for. You followed me everywhere. You even tried to choke me to death tonight.’<br />
<br />
She falls silent for a short while. I can hear Joanna sobbing softly in the background.<br />
<br />
‘That’s interesting. That wasn’t my intention at all. I just receive the money and do my work. You didn’t tell me that I was involved in his dreams and hallucinations,’ she says while letting go of my head and turning towards my wife.<br />
<br />
‘I didn’t know it was you,’ Joanna says.<br />
<br />
She turns to face me again.<br />
<br />
‘I suppose you don’t remember waking up during my little experiment?’<br />
<br />
‘I don’t. But I dreamt about this room before. I couldn’t remember where I had seen it. But now I do remember. I also remember the first time I saw your face,’ I reply to her.<br />
<br />
‘Yes… Interesting. It seems your destroyed self-esteem and inability to recognize acceptance took the form of the one person you saw, the moment they were being triggered.’<br />
<br />
‘Which was you…’<br />
<br />
'Interesting,' she says again.<br />
<br />
Everything that has happened in the past weeks is rushing through my head. I lay silent, simply staring at the ceiling, trying to collect my thoughts and organize them. But it’s no good. My mind is completely numb.<br />
<br />
‘Time for me to fix things,’ the old woman says.<br />
<br />
‘Can you make sure he doesn’t remember anything from what happened?’<br />
<br />
‘That won’t be easy, but I’ll see what I can do.’<br />
<br />
‘Everything will be okay, sweetie,’ my wife assures me. I don’t respond to her.<br />
<br />
‘I don’t expect you to forgive me. I only expect you to love me even more when this is all over.’<br />
<br />
My wife is insane. Still I can’t blame her. I’m not even mad at her. I should be, but I’m not. After all, I do love her a lot. I close my eyes and realize that they did in fact achieve the goal of their previous experiment on me. I feel another sting in my neck and I let the darkness take me again.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red;">-IX-</span></b></div>
<br />
‘Jeff! Wake up!’<br />
<br />
I open my eyes and notice that my face is stuck to the car window. My wife is looking at me from her seat while I rub the sleep out of my eyes. I sit up straight and greet her.<br />
<br />
‘Hey sweetheart.’<br />
<br />
‘Hi darling,’ my wife replies, ‘I didn’t want to wake you, but we just got home. You slept so long.’<br />
<br />
‘Did I? What time is it?’ I ask her as I look around, trying to remember why we’re in the car.<br />
Joanna looks at her wrist watch and tells me its 10 AM in the morning. She smiles at me and I smile back at her.<br />
<br />
‘That was quite the night out for you. You got so drunk that I almost had to carry you back to the car. Good thing I was the designated driver,’ she says, laughing.<br />
<br />
‘Oh damn, that’s embarrassing. I can’t remember anything from last night. You’re the best, though! I don’t think there’s any wife better than you.’<br />
<br />
‘Oh sweetie, you’re just saying that. Come on, let’s go inside.’<br />
<br />
I step out of the car. There’s a cold wind rushing around outside which gives me the chills. I close the car door but before I slam it shut I see something on the rear seat. It’s a small piece of crumpled paper. I take it and unfold it.<br />
<br />
I read through it and I can’t help but nervously laugh at the little note.<br />
<br />
‘Hey Joanna! Check this out! I found a weird note.’<br />
<br />
She stands beside me and reads the text that’s written on it as well.<br />
<br />
‘Isn’t this your handwriting, dear?’<br />
<br />
She takes the piece of paper out of my hand and looks at it.<br />
<br />
‘Indeed it is. It doesn’t matter though, just forget you even found it. You’ll do that for me, won’t you?’<br />
<br />
‘Sure. Anything for you. Let me get our coats though, are they in the trunk?’ I reply and I walk towards the trunk of the car.<br />
<br />
‘No! No no no! Leave our coats in the car. Don’t open the trunk, I will take care of it,’ Joanna urges me. She grabs my arm and playfully pulls me towards the house. She opens the door and I take off my shoes.<br />
<br />
‘For the life of me, I can’t remember the last time I slept this well,’ I say to her before I close the door behind us.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-368077552205503600.post-48337868940493048122015-03-02T15:28:00.004+01:002015-06-10T17:28:32.164+02:00Too long at the cliff<br />
<h2>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Too long at the cliff</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Date written: February 2015</div>
</h2>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red;">-I-</span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: red;"><br /></span></b>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXSSElnl9sSet7-_PSDV2o3C61GY6wqc1jQyB8G9Byy-GmV7vq1lPmAdVZojAAR3K_0ZguCGzZ9A6DXF6oYhs1hwhNStqspwafBvsKQ1FaUkKEKOJqazqv-SKpxae-HzMzNuCaEFe30fw/s1600/The+cliff.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXSSElnl9sSet7-_PSDV2o3C61GY6wqc1jQyB8G9Byy-GmV7vq1lPmAdVZojAAR3K_0ZguCGzZ9A6DXF6oYhs1hwhNStqspwafBvsKQ1FaUkKEKOJqazqv-SKpxae-HzMzNuCaEFe30fw/s1600/The+cliff.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<b><span style="color: red;"><br /></span></b></div>
<br />
For too long have I been standing here on top of this cliff. Days turn to nights and back. I have asked myself so many times what I’ve been doing here. I told myself I was thinking. Thinking about a lot of things. There have been so many things that have kept my mind occupied for such a long time. My hands are placed firmly on the cold metal railing.<br />
<br />
For some reason I can’t let go of the railing, though it’s not that I want to. Down below me stretches an ocean, filling the entire horizon. The sound of the waves hitting the rocks should calm me down, but it doesn’t. The light breeze that blows through my hair should cool me off during the day, but it doesn’t. The same breeze should give me chills during the night, but it doesn’t. I feel nothing.<br />
<br />
Nothing but worry and anger.<br />
<br />
I feel no need to go back home. I prefer the nights over the days, although it is always calm and quiet here regardless of the time of day. During the time that I’ve been standing here, I’ve only spoken with one person. Well, I didn’t actually speak with him. He spoke to me.<br />
<br />
A man approached me earlier this evening. He was walking his dog. It was a young man who needed someone to talk to. Or at least he needed someone to listen to his story. The man told me that he wanted to die. He felt that life had abandoned him and didn’t see the purpose to live anymore. His name was John.<br />
<br />
John was a young man in his 20s who grew up with a loving family. He had a longtime girlfriend of the same age. And even though he had always loved them so much, lately he felt nothing anymore. He was on a moral crossroad. So many times had he contemplated taking his own life. But then he reminded himself of what he would leave behind if he carried out what he wanted to do so badly.<br />
<br />
I didn’t say much to the man. I nodded at the right moment and looked in his eyes that were tearing while he was talking. His story would’ve been depressing to any person in a normal state of mind. But not to me. I turned my eyes away from him and looked down at the ocean again. He continued talking.<br />
<br />
I’m not listening anymore. I used to be a compassionate person before, always ready to help someone who needed it. Now, not so much. I don’t have any idea why he thought I was the right person to talk to about his problems. He keeps talking, he keeps asking me if I’m listening to him, but I don’t respond.<br />
<br />
Disappointed, he leaves. From the corner of my eye I watch him turn around, taking his dog with him. I can hear the sound of his footsteps gradually getting further away from me. Until the sound stops.<br />
<br />
It’s silent for a moment, save for the sounds of the waves and the wind. Until I hear footsteps return. Footsteps moving at an increasing pace towards me. A dog barking. I close my eyes, sigh and listen to the sound of John jumping over the railing off the cliff.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red;">-II-</span></b></div>
<br />
It’s late September now. The trees that are spread around each side of the cliff are letting go of their brown leaves. The wind catches the leaves and blows them into my direction, some of them stick to my coat before another gust of wind takes them away, into the ocean that still lies calmly in front of me.<br />
<br />
It’s been a short while since I saw this guy John. I’m still not sure what he was thinking. It is a strange feeling. Was he trying to make me feel guilty? He probably came here to end his life, but wasn’t expecting to see anyone. Perhaps I was the final hope that could help him get his life back on track, even if it was just by listening to his story. Maybe he felt that he couldn’t talk to anyone close and dear to him and I was that one person that he thought he could confide in so he could be convinced not to do what he was planning to do in the first place.<br />
<br />
Guilt. I still feel none of it.<br />
<br />
I look up to the sky and notice that grey clouds have formed above my head. The area is gradually getting darker and the wind stops blowing. I assume there will be rain soon. Maybe a storm. It hasn’t rained in a while. If it’s going to rain, I better find some shelter. Perhaps the trees on the side of the cliff will keep me dry, or at least keep me from becoming completely soaked.<br />
<br />
I turn around and slowly walk to one of the bigger trees situated at the start of the cliff. I sit down underneath the big arms and make myself comfortable. From here I can see the railing of the cliff. The clouds in the sky and the slowly lurking darkness in the area resemble the darkness I have in my head. I try to remind myself of the beauty of this place.<br />
<br />
It starts raining now. I can hear small drops falling on the deck of leaves above my head. I listen to the sound and close my eyes. The relaxing music of the rain goes on uninterrupted for a few minutes until it mixes with the sound of an engine roaring, tires screeching and a woman talking on the phone.<br />
<br />
I open my eyes and look at the source of the noise that suddenly arose in the otherwise calm and relaxing area.<br />
The raindrops reflect the red and blue flashing lights on top of the police car. A woman, shielding her head with a hat exits the car and starts what looks like a search for something or someone. I don’t get up. I merely sit there, watching what is happening. The police officer walks along the railing of the cliff. She doesn’t seem to notice me. At least, not instantly. She’s inspecting the railing, the ground and the ocean below. The way she stands at the railing reminds me of myself not that long ago, when I saw the man.<br />
<br />
She turns around and notices me staring at her. The young woman approaches me, she looks pretty for as far as I can see by the flashing lights of the car.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"><b>-III-</b></span></div>
<br />
‘What are you doing here? It’s raining, shouldn’t you go home or something?’<br />
<br />
I don’t want to reply to her. I turn my gaze away from her and look back at the railing where she was standing before.<br />
<br />
‘Hey? I asked you a question.’<br />
<br />
I look back at her and reply with a question of my own.<br />
<br />
‘Are you looking for John?’<br />
<br />
The young woman, obviously surprised by my sudden question hesitates to answer.<br />
<br />
‘Do you know him?’ she replies.<br />
<br />
‘No. I don’t.’<br />
<br />
‘Alright, I would like you to come with me to the station. I have a few questions that I would like you to answer.’<br />
<br />
Once again, I turn my gaze away from her as a sign of unwillingness. Without looking at her, I reply.<br />
<br />
‘I told you I don’t know this John. But if you’re looking for him, he’s down there somewhere, in the ocean. He jumped down a little while ago.’<br />
<br />
The woman moves away from me and thinks for a while. She then puts her hand on her belt and replies to me.<br />
<br />
‘I’m going to have to ask you again to come with me. Either voluntarily or involuntarily, the choice is yours.’<br />
<br />
I look at her face for a few seconds.<br />
<br />
‘Fine, I’ll go with you. I don’t know what you expect from me, but okay.’<br />
<br />
‘Just step in the car please.’<br />
<br />
As I step into the back of the car, the woman uses the car’s communication system to call for backup to inspect the cliff and its surroundings for the missing person called John.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red;">-IV-</span></b></div>
<br />
‘Something tells me that you know more about this missing person than you are telling me,’ she says as she sits down in front of me in the interrogation chamber.<br />
<br />
I don’t look at her. I’m sitting in front of her with my hands folded. I don’t want to reply to her. It was a bad idea to reply to her the way I did. If only I didn’t say this guy’s name. John. Fuck you John. If it wasn’t because of you, I wouldn’t be here right now.<br />
<br />
‘What do you know about John, a man who went missing not too long ago?’<br />
<br />
‘I told you already that I don’t know this John you’re talking about.’<br />
<br />
‘Then tell me what you were doing at the place he wrote about in the last communication to his family?’<br />
<br />
I sighed.<br />
<br />
‘I was just standing there, thinking about things, alright? Then all of a sudden he showed up out of nowhere with his dog and started talking to me. I didn’t respond to him, all I did was look at him.’<br />
<br />
‘Okay, and then what happened?’<br />
<br />
‘He left.’<br />
<br />
‘And…?’<br />
<br />
‘He ran towards the railing where I was standing and he jumped off.’<br />
<br />
‘You saw him jump?’<br />
<br />
‘No. I had my eyes closed. I could just hear his footsteps and the sound of something or someone going over the railing.’<br />
<br />
‘And you didn’t think it was something you should report to the police?’<br />
<br />
‘I told you, I didn’t see anything. And I wasn’t thinking straight.’<br />
<br />
It’s not any of my business anyway. She starts writing in her notebook, writing down everything that I’m saying. I can see her concentrate while she’s flipping through her notes. She can’t keep me here. There’s nothing that links me to this John figure, except my vague story.<br />
<br />
‘Can I go now?’<br />
<br />
She looks up from her notes and looks into my eyes.<br />
<br />
‘Fill in this form with your contact details so I can contact you when I have more questions for you.’<br />
Reluctantly, I take the piece of paper from her and start filling in my details. Name… phone number… I don’t have my phone with me. So there’s no way she can contact me. I hand the paper back to her after filling in all the required fields and get up from my seat. She gets up as well and walks to the door to open it for me. Without thanking her I leave the interrogation room.<br />
<br />
She proceeds to escort me to the reception desk.<br />
<br />
‘Process this form for me, please. Put it in the John case file,’ she says to the file clerk.<br />
<br />
The file clerk looks at the form and back at Sandra, which is her name I picked up from her notebook in the interrogation room. He frowns and puts the paper on his desk.<br />
<br />
‘You’re free to go for now,’ she says when she turns towards me.<br />
<br />
‘But don’t stray too far away from here. And stay away from that cliff.’<br />
<br />
I don’t reply to her and walk away. I’ve had enough interaction for one day. I just want to return to the one place where I can think quietly. The one place where I can focus on myself without getting bothered by other people’s problems.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red;">-V-</span></b></div>
<br />
I walk along the gloomy forest road. The road that lies in front of me is very familiar. It feels like ages since I first walked here. The sound rising from under my feet is that of cracking sticks and crunchy leaves. The last time I passed through this road was by car. Escorted in a police car for doing what? Nothing is what. Sitting under a tree shielding myself from the rain. Now I can finally walk and think clearly again. Or at least… I try to do so.<br />
<br />
The worry that clouded my own mind before the John incident has faded and has taken the form of thoughts about what is going to happen to me in this situation. But it’s not something I want to think about. I walked this road before to clear my head. I want that feeling back.<br />
<br />
I remember why I went for a walk here in the first place. At first it was unclear to me. I thought I was going here to commit suicide. But that wasn’t it. I had no reason whatsoever to kill myself.<br />
That place. The cliff, and the forest road heading up to it have been part of my life for a long time. They hold very good memories. During the time that I was standing at the cliff I was attempting to let memories resurface. Memories of my good life.<br />
<br />
But I was waiting for something else the last time I was there. Waiting for a revelation or a certain clarity to drive away the worry and the emptiness.<br />
<br />
It hadn’t been raining much the evening I got picked up by her. Not enough to make the sand and dust road soggy, but just enough to reinforce the smell of leaves and nature. It was an enjoyable smell. I let the wind blow through my hair and listen to the vague sound of birds singing in the distance. It’s around midday now and I walked straight from the police station back to this place.<br />
<br />
My eyes don’t deceive me. There are multiple cars parked in front of the cliff, yellow tape is wrapped around two trees, creating the idea of a blocked path. There are multiple men and women walking around the area. I approach the tape and try to see what’s going on around the cliff area.<br />
I lift the tape and walk underneath. Most of the police offers are distracted with their private conversations, except for one.<br />
<br />
‘Didn’t I tell you not to go here anymore?’<br />
<br />
Sandra approaches me and grabs me firmly by the arm.<br />
<br />
‘What the hell do you think you are doing? This is an official crime scene and you can’t cross the tape.’<br />
<br />
‘I just want to go the place I feel comfortable,’ I tell her.<br />
<br />
‘And I told you that you should stay away from here. But in any case, I’m glad you came here. I’ve been trying to call you to ask you to come to the police station to answer a few more of my questions, but you haven’t been picking up your phone.’<br />
<br />
‘I’m not obliged to have my phone with me. Can’t you just leave me alone? I don’t want to have anything more to do with this situation.’<br />
<br />
‘Well that’s a bit too late I’m afraid. Get in the car, we’re going back to the station.’<br />
<br />
Damn it! Just leave me the fuck alone already, I’m getting so tired of it! I pull my arm out of her grip and walk away from her, towards the railing of the cliff. Yet I don’t get too far because Sandra grabs both my arms this time and drags me back towards one of the cars.<br />
<br />
‘Get in there and shut up,’ she says before she slams the door shut and gets in the front seat. While we drive off down the road, she continues talking to me. I look at her eyes through the rear view mirror. She keeps her eyes focused front.<br />
<br />
‘Listen, let’s talk reasonably. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but obviously you’re not in a very good state of mind. However things don’t look too good for you. We just managed to fish our missing person John out of the water a couple of hours ago. Now there aren’t any suspects so far except for you, who happened to know the deceased’s name, his exact location of death and on top of that there’s your appearance on the scene. Twice.’<br />
<br />
‘What do you want me to say? I’ve already said everything I wanted to say to you. Do you want me to repeat it again? I don’t know this John. He started talking to me and then one minute after he disappeared from my view. Why do you want to pin this on me so badly?’<br />
She fell silent. She didn’t speak another word during the trip to the police station.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red;">-VI-</span></b></div>
<br />
The evidence box she put in front of me on the table was almost overflowing with items. Sandra stands next to the box, looking at me for a little while. She opens the box and starts taking out some items, looking for one specific item so it seems.<br />
<br />
‘John was carrying a note on him, similar to the one we found at his house. He had it packed in an airtight plastic bag. It was addressed to his girlfriend. Let’s read through it.’<br />
<br />
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
Dear Linda,<br />
<br />
I shouldn’t have done what I did.<br />
I blame the alcohol and the pills.<br />
Never have I felt so bad.<br />
I want to take back the things I said and did.<br />
But it’s too late now.<br />
I want to see you again.<br />
I want to talk to you.<br />
<br />
-John<br />
<br />
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
‘So?’<br />
<br />
‘Come on. We find this note, addressed from John to a certain Linda. And then we find you next to the place where he died. And which name did you write on the contact form? First name: Linda. Coincidence?’<br />
<br />
‘What are you implying? That I threw him off the cliff because of something he supposedly did to me?’<br />
<br />
‘I’m not implying anything. I simply want you to tell me the truth about John and how you two are connected.’<br />
<br />
‘We aren’t connected. He threw himself off the cliff, I keep telling you that.’<br />
<br />
‘Very well, next item. What I have here is a picture of him and of someone who looks very similar to you, which we also found in that plastic bag. Take a look.’<br />
<br />
I take the picture that she’s holding in front of me and look at it. The picture looks very familiar. It’s one of the memories I tried to resurface during my days and nights at the cliff. One of the good memories that I was hoping would temporarily drive away the anger, coldness and detachment. Something that would keep me patient. But as hard as I tried, I couldn’t resurface it then.<br />
<br />
But now, looking at this picture… I remember the day well. It was the day I brought John to the cliff for the first time. I wanted to show it to him, because the place was very valuable to me.<br />
<br />
‘What are you not telling me, Linda?’<br />
<br />
I sigh.<br />
<br />
‘I’ve told you nothing but the truth so far. The John that jumped off the cliff was not the John I knew. The John I knew had his life in order, the one that jumped I didn’t recognize anymore. He turned into an entirely different person, one that I don’t know. I didn’t do anything to him.’<br />
<br />
She looks up from her notebook and I see that she’s about to ask another question. But I want to ask her a question of my own. She opens her mouth and I quickly start talking before she can bring out a word.<br />
<br />
‘I would like to ask you a question if I may.’<br />
<br />
‘Be my guest,’ she replies with a frown.<br />
<br />
‘What I’m curious about is: how many bodies did you discover at the cliff?’<br />
<br />
Sandra looks at me, suppressing a surprised look caused by my question.<br />
<br />
‘We found one. Are you saying that there are more?’<br />
<br />
‘What I’m saying is that I’m pretty sure that John is not the only one who found his end on the bottom of the cliff.’<br />
<br />
She continues looking at me for a few seconds and hesitates to write in her notebook. She then gets out of her seat and walks out the room. Before she closes the door, she says:<br />
<br />
‘You stay right there.’<br />
<br />
I don’t respond to what she says. I’m done here.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"><b>-VII-</b></span></div>
<br />
‘Don’t let her leave,’ she says to the guard on the other side of the door.<br />
<br />
Sandra walks out of the room with a pace faster than normal. She runs to several co-workers to tell them that they should immediately check out the bottom of the cliff again for more bodies. While she is instructing the group, the file clerk at the registrations desk gets out of his work area. The man started only 2 weeks ago and wasn’t very experienced. He looks a bit nervous as he tries to get Sandra’s attention, who is only focused on rallying some troops to swipe the cliff for more bodies.<br />
He decides to wait until she finishes her short briefing before tapping her on the shoulder to get her attention.<br />
<br />
‘What is it?’ she says.<br />
<br />
The man hesitates to speak, because he realizes that now might not be the best time to come with something that would seem so insignificant compared to the briefing that Sandra just gave. He speaks up anyway.<br />
<br />
‘Yesterday you came to me and asked me to file this contact form for you.’<br />
<br />
‘Yes, what of it?’<br />
<br />
‘Well the thing is that… well of course I’m new here and you guys know things better than the new guys usually, but uhm…’<br />
<br />
‘Come on, what is it?’<br />
<br />
‘Yeah, alright. You gave me this empty form and I don’t really know what to do with it. It didn’t make sense to me to put it in a high profile missing person’s case file, but I didn’t want to throw it away either. I mean you filled in your own details and all, but…’<br />
<br />
Perplexed she looks at the man. She grabs the form from his hand before he finishes his sentence and looks at it. Empty.<br />
<br />
She turns around without replying to the clerk and runs back to the interrogation room, where the guard is still guarding the door. She opens the door and looks around the room where the table and the evidence box are placed. But there’s no girl to be found in the room.<br />
<br />
‘Where’s the girl?’<br />
<br />
‘What girl?’ the guard replies.<br />
<br />
She looks at the man with a confused look on her face.<br />
<br />
‘Sandra, you’ve been all alone in that room with your box of evidence. Are you feeling alright?’<br />
<br />
‘No… I don’t think I am. But I think I know whose body we are going to find at the bottom of that cliff.’<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red;">-VIII-</span></b></div>
<br />
A man approached me earlier that evening. He was walking his dog. It was a young man who needed someone to talk to. Or at least he needed someone to listen to his story. The man told me that he wanted to die. He felt that life had abandoned him and didn’t see the purpose to live anymore. His name was John.<br />
<br />
John was a young man in his 20s who grew up with a loving family. He had a longtime girlfriend of the same age. And even though he had always loved them so much, lately he felt nothing anymore. He was on a moral crossroad. So many times had he contemplated taking his own life. But then he reminded himself of what he would leave behind if he carried out what he wanted to do so badly.<br />
<br />
I didn’t say much to the man. I nodded at the right moment and looked in his eyes that were tearing while he was talking. His story would’ve been depressing to any person in a normal state of mind. But not to me. I turned my eyes away from him and looked down at the ocean again. He continued talking.<br />
<br />
‘It wasn’t my intention to kill you. It was just the alcohol I think. And the pills. It was an accident. You know I always loved you, right? I don’t know what came over me that night. I… I think I need someone to help me. Help me figure out my problems please.’<br />
<br />
I wasn’t listening anymore. I used to be a compassionate person before, always ready to help someone who needed it. Then, not so much. I didn’t have any idea why he thought I was the right person to talk to about his problems. He kept talking, he kept asking me if I was listening to him, but I didn’t respond.<br />
<br />
‘Please, Linda. Respond to me. I know you can hear me, what are those pills doing to me? But you can’t be real. I saw you fall off the cliff. I pushed you off. Damn, what have I done?.. Please talk to me. Linda?..<br />
<br />
Linda?..<br />
<br />
…...Linda…’<br />
<br />
Disappointed, he left. From the corner of my eye I watched him turn around, taking his dog with him. I could hear the sound of his footsteps gradually getting further away from me. Until the sound stopped.<br />
<br />
It was silent for a moment, save for the sounds of the waves and the wind. Until I heard footsteps return. Footsteps moving at an increasing pace towards me. A dog barking. I closed my eyes, sighed and listened to the sound of John jumping over the railing off the cliff.<br />
<br />
Deep down I knew he would eventually come back there.<br />
<br />
I had been waiting for him to show up. And I was hoping that he could see me, just so I could be the final one he would see before taking his own life. I suppose that in the end it wasn’t such a bad idea to talk to Sandra either. At least there’s a chance that my own body will be recovered and I can have a proper burial.<br />
<br />
Oh that cliff… For too long have I stood on top of that cliff.<br />
<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-368077552205503600.post-83965701786187754832015-03-02T14:31:00.001+01:002016-01-23T16:13:13.134+01:00Book 159: 7 of them<h2 style="text-align: center;">
Book 159: 7 of them<br />Date written: August 2014</h2>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red;">Chapter I - The first pages</span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
I remember it very well, that one day in October. I came home later than I usually would. We were understaffed and I had to work over hours. What a night it was. And here I am now, stuck in this cage. It’s an odd place I’m in. It has a feel of a prison to it. Well, it is a prison I suppose. I walk around the dark cell every now and then. There’s not much to see really.<br />
<br />
There’s a small opening on one side, like a window, with bars in front of it. I assume behind those small bars lays the outside world, judging by the very distant sound of a soft breeze. I’ve contemplated destroying those bars multiple times. But then again, what purpose will it serve? I don’t know where I’ll end up if I do climb out that window. It’s always pitch black outside. Yet the moon shines all the time. And the only sound out there? Wind. The blowing of the wind. On the other side of my cage is another row of bars, just bigger. I suppose that’s where I was brought in. I call it a cage, but it’s more like a cell. Stone walls and metal bars surround me.<br />
<br />
I noticed once how immense the place I’m in is. It is always pretty dark in the corridor just outside the metal bars, however on rare occasions the lights go on, just for a few seconds only to turn off quickly after that. I’ve been here for a few days now I think, even though I have no sense of time and place whatsoever. Just once I was in time to view the surroundings of my cell. Normally I sit on my bench, thinking or sleeping, finding ways to pass time. But that one time I was there, clenching the metal with my hands. I don’t know why or how long I was standing there. But whatever the reason was, I was glad I stood there. The light popped on and I was able to look around swiftly. My eyes weren’t accustomed to the light after being in the dark for such a long time. Sure, there always was the light of the moon that slightly illuminated my cell, but it was very different from the lights inside the corridor. I tried my best to take in every sight I could see.<br />
<br />
My cell faced another cell. A few seconds won’t grant many details of anything, be it the surroundings, or the face of a fellow prisoner. I could see that there was only a meter of walkway in between the opposite cages, however the corridor stretched for miles so it seemed like. I could look into the corridor quickly, with my head pressed against the cold metal. The stream of lights in the corridor seemed to go on forever, as did the cells that were illuminated by them. I thought there were hundreds of them, if not more. From what I could pick up from the cages closer to me was that each cage had its own number listed above them. The cage in front of me had the number 1953a on it, if I remember it correctly. Those numbers probably represent prisoner ID numbers. Inside the cage was a woman. She neither looked in my direction, nor did she ever say anything to me.<br />
<br />
I’ve made multiple attempts to talk to her, to ask her why she was being held captive here. But she never ever replied. I never saw her again after that day. Of course, the lights did go on more often, but I never managed to get up in time to see her. Not one bit of noise came from her cage during the time that I’ve been here. It was as if she never even existed. Maybe she was part of my imagination. Perhaps I just wanted to see someone, or find someone to talk to at least. I still have a hard time understanding my own imprisonment. Why am I writing this down, I often ask myself? To make sure I stay sane is the answer. To make sure I remember everything correctly. And probably nobody will ever read this… but that’s alright. People would probably think I’m a madman.<br />
<br />
In the glimpse I got from my opposite neighbor’s cell, I noticed a pen and a book lying on the ground of her cage, similar to the ones I’m using. Maybe the person who puts the people here wants the prisoners to write… But why? It’s a question I never have gotten answered so far, it is something I wanted to ask the woman as well.<br />
<br />
It doesn’t matter anyway. The writing equipment is here for my own good. I don’t care what they will do with it. I will use it to document my story, even if it is just for myself. It will help me remember why I’ve been sent here, just in case I start to question my own sanity. It’s hard to write and read properly. The weak moonlight only shines a small amount of light into the cage. I’ll have to find a solution for that sooner or later. Right now I’ll just focus on writing by feeling and sensing the pages, the pen and my own memory. Write everything down… every thought, everything that happened that night and everything that’s happening here.<br />
<br />
Let me go back to the beginning.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red;">Chapter II - Coming home</span></b></div>
<br />
I came back home that one evening in October. The office wasn’t far from home, but still driving home after a 13 hour shift seemed to take an eternity. It was dark, as one would expect from a cold October evening. It was 9 pm when I pulled the handbrake after parking my car in front of my house. I got out of my car, slammed the door shut and walked towards my house where my wife would be waiting for me with a hot meal and some gentle kisses. She would always provide me with the comfort one would need after a long and exhausting day of work.<br />
<br />
As I approached my house, I looked at the window and noticed that the lights weren’t on. At the time I didn’t think anything of it. She might’ve fallen asleep while waiting for me. I couldn’t blame her of course. Normally I would come home around 6 pm. I messaged her that afternoon to tell her that I had to work late and that she didn’t have to wait for me. I didn’t know if she received the message I sent her. I looked upwards and noticed that there also weren’t any lights burning in the bedroom upstairs.<br />
<br />
I entered the house, closing and locking the door behind me. After walking through the door into the living room, I turned on the lights. I let my gaze flow through the comfortably furnished area. My wife wasn’t there… I looked through the kitchen door’s glass display, into the kitchen that was slightly illuminated in green by the digital clock of the microwave, but she wasn’t there either. I put my suitcase down and opened the door which led to the staircase. I listened intently to anything that would sound familiar to me. I could hear some soft breathing coming from one of the upstairs rooms. I proceeded up the stairs and closed the door gently behind me so I could surprise her.<br />
<br />
I tried to make as less sound as possible, but the house we lived in was old and the steps were creaking lightly under my feet, even though I wasn’t quite the heavyweight. When I arrived at the top of the stairs I listened again… But the breathing had stopped.<br />
<br />
Carefully, I opened the door to the guest bedroom where she usually liked to take naps.<br />
<br />
‘Sweetie, you in here?’ I whispered.<br />
<br />
No response. I flicked on the light and noticed that she wasn’t in the room. I turned off the light and closed the door. She had to be in the other room. But quickly I realized that our bedroom was empty as well.<br />
<br />
‘Darling?! Come out, come out, wherever you are! I heard you breathing,’ I called out to her playfully. Once again, no response… Confused, I checked out the other rooms, even the rooms on the attic. But the house was empty. I took my phone out of my pocket and checked if I had received any new messages.<br />
<br />
<i>‘Am out for a little while. Assumed you had to work overtime. Be back soon I hope =D’</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I read the message with a sigh of relief. That explained it. I went back downstairs, feeling a bit more comfortable, to heat up my dinner and start my night.<br />
<br />
I came downstairs and turned on the light in the living room. I walked past the couch and table which had a lot of unopened mail laying on it. Before opening the kitchen door, I turned on the TV, situated<br />
opposite of the couch and table. I changed the channel to the news. I threw the remote on the book case next to the television.<br />
<br />
In the kitchen laid a note, placed under a bowl of food that was ready to be heated up. While I waited for the microwave to finish its business, I opened a bottle of beer and listened to the news reporter.<br />
“In local news, a series of persons have gone missing. So far it doesn’t seem there’s any link between the missing persons. Police officials have stated that there is no reason for panic.”<br />
---<br />
“There is no indication that we are dealing with a serial kidnapper at this point. What we can tell you is that the missing person count is 10, 3 female and 7 male. We are not excluding the possibility that these people have run off on their own. We are doing everything within our power to find these missing persons.”<br />
---<br />
“That was the statement of the chief of police. More on this subject later, we will keep you informed if there are any major changes in the case.”<br />
<br />
Oh that message. I remember it well. Word for word. It sounded over and over in my head that night.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red;">Chapter III - Their first appearance</span></b></div>
<br />
I took my food out of the microwave and brought it to the dinner table, the only piece of furniture in the front of the living room. I sat down and started eating while reading today’s newspaper. The news flash repeated itself on TV in the background, just with different people and on different programs. I put the TV on standby with the remote that was lying on the table. The television shut down and the small red light turned on.<br />
<br />
I continued reading for a little while when I suddenly felt a weird vibe going through my body. A disturbing feeling which made me drop my cutlery on my plate. I sat up straight and didn’t realize how the thought suddenly came to me, but somehow I realized two things.<br />
<br />
I never turned off the lights in the living room before I went upstairs, yet I flicked them back on after I came down. And I left the remote on the bookcase… not on the table.<br />
<br />
I got the feeling I wasn’t alone in my house. I got up from my chair and looked around. The room was silent and empty, save for the furniture. I walked to the kitchen to put my plate and cutlery away. I scraped the rest of the food off my plate into the trash bin and placed the rest in the dishwasher. On the counter still laid the note. I completely forgot to read it.<br />
<br />
<i>It starts today. We’re waiting for you. Come.</i><br />
<br />
The short sentences didn’t make any sense to me. I read it two, three, four times, but I still didn’t understand it. From the corner of my eye I saw the kitchen door slowly closing as I was sticking the note in my pocket. I didn’t know what was happening at the time. I couldn’t see much through the windows, since it was fitted with light frosted glass. Usually you could only see shadows and shapes vaguely moving around through it. But at that particular moment? Nothing. Nothing but darkness.<br />
I was a hundred percent sure that I wasn’t alone in my house. I opened the kitchen drawer and took out a knife. I held it in front of me when I opened the kitchen door. The lights were turned off again and I slowly stepped into the darkness.<br />
<br />
‘Who’s there? I got a knife,’ I spoke, trying to sound as confident as possible.<br />
<br />
I tried to see into the blackness, but the only light that was shining into the room was the light from the kitchen, which didn’t get very far, and the small red light from the TV. I moved gradually towards the light switch in the front of the room, moving the knife around me cautiously, in case someone was about to grab me. I moved my hand across the wall to find the switch and when I finally found it, I immediately switched it on.<br />
<br />
The light in the kitchen exploded and the lights in the living room slowly lit up. I looked up and noticed that they only lit up very weakly… It still was hard to see in the room, but I noticed something was different on the couch. I focused hard to see what was going on. All of a sudden the kitchen door slammed shut with an enormous amount of noise and startled, I stumbled backwards.<br />
<br />
‘Hello Jason, glad you could join us.’<br />
<br />
A woman’s voice filled the room while the sound of the door still echoed through the place.<br />
<br />
‘Let’s lighten up this room a little.’<br />
<br />
The silhouette of a woman in a dress was moving through the room, walking from place to place. Starting by the table in front of the couch, she lit a candle. She then moved towards other places to light more candles. Fear took me that moment and I couldn’t say anything. As the room lit up, I could slightly see four other women sitting on the couch. All of them were dressed differently. It looked as if they walked straight off different movie sets.<br />
<br />
The woman walking around was wearing a grey dress, which was ripped and torn. One of the women on the couch was wearing a long skirt, her upper body clenched into a corset. There was a woman who appeared younger than the rest. She wore a tighter dress, made out of old curtains is what it looked like. The 4th woman had a hat with three large feathers on it. She was wearing a loose blouse, with wool pants underneath. The 5th woman wore a more modern type of dress with a colorful flower print on it.<br />
<br />
Neither of the women on the couch were speaking. They were simply staring at me. They didn’t make so much of a noise, they didn’t move. They didn’t even blink. They just sat there…<br />
<br />
‘What’s going on? Why are you in my house?’ I pointed my question towards the woman who was lighting the candles.<br />
<br />
She looked at me as she sat down next to the other women on the corner couch. All of them were sitting in the exact same position. Their hands, some covered in light gloves, laid on their legs. Their faces looked like the faces of mannequins. Their skin was pulled back, as if it was fastened on the back of their necks, covered by their long hair. They were pale… and skinny. And their eyes, wide opened as if something startled them. Only the woman who spoke had a different look on her face. Even though she also didn’t blink the entire time I was looking at her, her eyes showed some emotion.<br />
<br />
I couldn’t place the emotion at the time. She started speaking to me.<br />
<br />
‘Jason, why don’t you take a seat? We have something important to talk about.’<br />
<br />
Unclear as to how she knew my name, I shook my head slowly and started reaching for my phone to call the police. I nervously started to pat down my front and back pocket.<br />
<br />
‘Looking for something?’ is what the woman asked me as she showed me the phone I was looking for. She tilted her head as she was waiting for my reply. I didn’t know what to do, me and my wife decided months before that night to cut off the fixed phone line of the house, because we never used it. We always used our mobile phones. The only thing I could think of was to go outside the house and call for help at the neighbor’s place. I slowly walked backwards towards the front door and tried opening the door, but it was locked. I started patting down my pockets again when I heard the woman shouting to me from the other side of the room, followed by a jingling noise.<br />
<br />
‘Jason?! Do you need these?’<br />
<br />
In a moment of panic I rushed back inside, picked up a chair and tried slamming the window. I started calling for help, while nervously looking over my shoulder at the women, who were still just sitting there, still doing nothing but staring at me. I don’t know why fear took me that moment. The woman started talking again.<br />
<br />
‘Jason, if you’re not going to listen to me, I don’t have any other choice but to do it this way.’<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red;">Chapter IV - His wife</span></b></div>
<br />
She started fiddling with my phone, pressing buttons, then holding it in the palms of her hands. She stretched her arms while the phone made dialing sounds, followed by ringing sounds and finally a click. A woman spoke:<br />
<br />
‘Jason… Jason, is that you?’<br />
<br />
‘Darling? Yes, it’s me. Where are you? What’s going on?’<br />
<br />
‘Jason, listen to me. They’re not alone. I’ve been told to warn you about what happens if you don’t do what they ask.’<br />
<br />
‘Hey… you’re not making sense.. Tell me where you are.’<br />
<br />
‘I don’t know… I… Jason, it’s not just me who’s being held captive. You have to be careful and listen to them. Do as they say and we can all make it. They told me this.’<br />
<br />
The woman on the couch abruptly ended the call.<br />
<br />
‘That’s quite enough of that,’ she said.<br />
<br />
‘Who are you people? What are you doing with my wife?!’<br />
<br />
‘Don’t worry, Jason. You heard what she said. Do exactly as we say and everything will be fine. We just want to talk with you. Yes?’<br />
<br />
I didn’t answer her. The other women still didn’t move, let alone blink.<br />
<br />
‘Today, we are going to test you. Pass our test and both of you will be safe.’<br />
<br />
The message of the news reporter echoed in my head as I realized what these people might be up to.<br />
<br />
‘You… are responsible for all these missing persons in the area, aren’t you?’<br />
<br />
‘Come on, Jason, don’t be ridiculous. We didn’t have anything to do with it. We’re not the only ones capable of things like that in this world, you know. But…’<br />
<br />
She paused for a second and looked at the other women.<br />
<br />
‘… those other people are the least of your concern right now. Listen, I see you like that knife of yours. So let’s say you decide to cut our throats, it means you fail our test. If you fail your test, there’s no way you will ever see your wife again. You heard her, didn’t you? We are not alone. Is that reason enough for you?’<br />
<br />
I hesitated to answer.<br />
<br />
‘Come, take a seat. We’ll start our testing now.’<br />
<br />
Hesitantly I backed away from the couch and reached for a chair that was near the dinner table. Without losing the women out of my sight, I pulled the chair to face the couch and sat down on it. The woman spoke again.<br />
<br />
‘Our test is simple. You sit there and each of us will tell you a story about ourselves. These stories might not be all that pleasant. But trust me when I say they are as real as can be. If you can sit through all 5 of them, without interrupting us or doing… whatever you plan to do to us with that big knife of yours, you pass the test. Your wife will be freed and returned to you safely.’<br />
<br />
‘And if I fail?’<br />
<br />
‘Then your pretty wife will unfortunately meet one of the fates described in our stories. We haven’t decided yet which one that’s going to be. But that makes it all the more interesting. Just you remember, you’re locked in here with us. You can’t break your windows either. You can’t call the police and the neighbors can’t hear you.’<br />
<br />
I honestly felt desperate. I couldn’t take the risk of attacking them and jeopardize my wife’s safety…<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"><b>Chapter V - Rose's story</b></span></div>
<br />
Suddenly the first woman who I had been talking to sat herself down, leaning backwards a bit. Her eyes opened widely like the eyes of the rest of the women. Her skin pulled back as well and her body took the same position as the rest.<br />
<br />
‘Oh my, where are my manners. I haven’t properly introduced myself yet. Shame on me. Jason, I’m Rose. And I was born in the middle of the 19th century.’<br />
<br />
A soft voice, almost shy sounding filled the room. It was the woman in the middle who started speaking.<br />
<br />
‘People called me Rodent Rose back then. I don’t know why, but everyone in the village I lived in despised me. I can’t remember much of my youth, which I suppose is where the hate towards me started, but I do remember how the last 10 years I spent there were a complete hell.’<br />
<br />
I interrupted her because I didn’t know if I heard her right. Her response afterwards sent a shock through my body, once again reminding me of what’s at stake.<br />
<br />
‘I’m sorry, did I hear that right? Rodent Rose? Are you serious right now?’<br />
<br />
Her eyes didn’t move and her focus almost burned through my own eyes. She lifted her arm, holding my phone in her hand. How did she…?<br />
<br />
‘Jason, don’t interrupt me while I’m telling my story. Remember the rules. Now, where was I? Oh yes, hell. It was a complete and utter disaster to be living in the village. Nobody even as much as looked at me when I would walk through the street, save for one man. Oh, he was the most handsome and friendliest guy in the village. I knew he liked me, I could see it in the way he looked at me when we would take walks through the hills. You could say that things had gotten serious after a while.’<br />
<br />
She sighed.<br />
<br />
‘Of course, things didn’t stay that way. He told me he couldn’t be seen with me, otherwise the village would spit him out as well. I didn’t like it. I mean, was he ashamed of me? Who even does that to a girl he likes?’<br />
<br />
I was listening to her nervously. As I write this, I can’t remember every detail of her story. She just went on and on about her feelings. Meanwhile, I wasn’t calm at all. With every word that the woman spat out, I was losing time. But I couldn’t risk interrupting her again. Every now and then, she would stop talking and ask me if I was still listening. I would then nod and she would continue.<br />
<br />
‘One night… we had an argument. We were on the hills after a walk and we stood there fighting for hours it seemed. I got so upset with him that I slapped him in the face. He almost hit me back too… But he didn’t and decided to walk away, leaving me there on that hill all by myself. That argument. I was mad at him for his behavior in the village. He would treat me the same way every other villager treated me. But I knew he was a kind man with a good heart. But someone was playing him. Someone was telling him not to be with me. And I knew who did it. Of course, I could never prove it, but I knew. 3 women, living near my man.<br />
<br />
They wanted him too, they wanted to be the ones he would take for a walk. And these women were the type of women that would do anything in their power to get what they wanted.<br />
<br />
I ran after him when he walked off. I apologized for hitting him. Then he told me that he had a confession to make. I didn’t know why he suddenly told me, but I already sensed that he had a troubled mind. He told me… he told me that he truly wanted to be loyal to me. But he said that he made a few mistakes in the nights before that. And he didn’t need to say more. I knew it. I knew those women messed with him behind my back. Are you still listening?’<br />
<br />
I looked up, realizing that I got so close again to the loss of my wife. Focus! Is what I told myself. Think about your wife.<br />
<br />
‘Yes, I’m still listening. You were talking about your man.’<br />
<br />
‘Right… Anyway, I got even more upset and told him that I would rather be spat out by the entire village, than to be with an un-loyal, sorry excuse for a human being that he was. And I couldn’t leave this for what it was. He insulted me, made me look like a fool. So I hatched a plan to take revenge. Everyone liked to call me Rodent Rose? Well, I wanted to let him and everyone in the village know that I truly fitted the nickname.<br />
<br />
I asked him over for dinner at my house one night. I told him I wanted to talk about what happened. I prepared a meal for the two of us. We sat there and we talked. We just talked and ate for a while. But after an hour there was nothing left to discuss. I would’ve been better off just talking to myself, because the man I loved so much had been dead for 20 minutes after eating a soup that was spiced up with a lethal dosage of rat poison.’<br />
<br />
She fell silent for a while after concluding her story. I didn’t know if I should say something. She closed her eyes. She let out a sigh too, as if a burden was lifted from her shoulders. It surprised me at the time since none of them had shown any form of emotion. Except the one look in all of their eyes. I still can’t place what I saw in them that night.<br />
<br />
Poison. It was the clearest thing that rushed through my head after I gathered my thoughts. I spent a few minutes looking at the women, realizing that soon one of them would wake from their… trance. They told me that the fate of my wife lied in one of their stories should I fail their test. People did always say that poison is a woman’s weapon…<br />
<br />
The second thing that came to mind was that I dropped the knife when I fell over right before I saw the women in my house. The silence in the house was droning. Four mannequin type-like women were looking in my direction. The other one laid her eyes to rest while still sitting up straight like the rest. Of course, these women weren’t normal. But paranormal? I didn’t understand why they were so silent during that time. They came here, wanting me to listen to their stories, yet they weren’t telling them.<br />
<br />
I slowly got out of my seat and started walking towards to the front of the living room. I kept my eyes pointed towards the couch as I crouched to reach for the knife. I couldn’t feel it in the place I dropped it. I turned around to look on the ground. The second I turned away, another voice filled the room.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"><b>Chapter VI - Annie's story</b></span></div>
<br />
‘Jason! Come back here!’<br />
<br />
The sudden sound of the voice startled me and I jumped back on my feet. From this side of the room, it wasn’t easy to see the women in detail. The candle light only illuminated the objects and persons vaguely in that particular corner. I looked up to the ceiling and saw that the lights of the living room weren’t even on anymore. Slowly I started making my way back to my chair. As I sat down, the woman to the left of Rose started talking.<br />
<br />
‘Jason, listen. I know the temptation of picking up the knife is very strong. But I really have to warn you that you better play by our rules. We are very trustworthy ladies. And being like that, means we stick to our word. So: what does this mean for you?<br />
<br />
Attack us, and we will be forced to end your wife’s life. Or, you could keep your cool and let us continue our test and when we finish, we promise to undo all the inconvenience that we have caused you and your wife.’<br />
<br />
Her word? Their word? It meant nothing to me.<br />
<br />
‘Oh please, why should I believe the word of a bunch of women who break into my house, who kidnap my wife and lock me up inside my own house, forcing me to play some kind of sick little game?!'<br />
<br />
Silence followed for short while…<br />
<br />
‘You don’t have a choice I’m afraid… But, I see your point. Here, as a token of mutual trust, or should I say a token of my trust in your capabilities.’<br />
<br />
She reached behind her and showed me the knife that I dropped earlier.<br />
<br />
‘You… can hold onto this, while you listen to my story. Does that sound good to you?’<br />
I got up from my chair and hesitated for a short while before I took the knife from her. I sat back down and looked at the edge of the knife.<br />
<br />
‘I didn’t get the chance to introduce myself yet. Jason, I’m Annie. I personally think it’s very nice to meet you. If only it was under different circumstances. And it would’ve been nice if we had met 300 years ago.’<br />
<br />
I simply looked at her, skeptically.<br />
<br />
‘I’m glad you chose not to interrupt me. Your wife is happy about that too, I’m sure. Jason, back in my days, I was a thief. I spent years robbing people, finding ways to enter the houses of the rich and the wealthy. I was infamous. Pretty much all of the land’s law enforcers were out looking for me. They called me ‘Anonymous Ann’. It’s pretty cheesy, I know. I personally never would’ve chosen that nickname. But I can’t say that I blame the people for coming up with that name, especially since I left my trademark at every place I robbed.<br />
<br />
It was a compulsive action, I couldn’t help it. You see, what I did was, after a successful burglary or robbery, I would write my name in oil on anything that could easily be lit up. For example a carpet, or a curtain, perhaps some bed sheets.<br />
<br />
For years, I plundered every house that had valuable items hidden inside them. I liked robbing and stealing, but ever since I started doing it, I didn’t have any purpose in life. I had no goals, no achievements, except for one thing. Jason, have you ever had the feeling that you never really achieved anything great, anything you can write home about? Be it at work, maybe in your social life or in a relationship?’<br />
<br />
I didn’t respond to her. She spent forever reminiscing about the places she robbed, the precious items that she stole. It’s very hard to remember the details to every theft. I still held the knife in one hand, my finger touching the tip of it.<br />
<br />
‘Okay, that does it! You’re not listening to me!’ she shouted at me with a touch of anger suddenly in her face. She reached for the phone which she had hidden under the pillow next to her.<br />
<br />
‘No, no, no! I was listening. I was just thinking.’<br />
<br />
She held up the phone and I had the knife in my hand, waiting for her reaction.<br />
<br />
‘Yes? I’m listening…’<br />
<br />
‘Alright, alright. Before I met my wife, I didn’t have the feeling that I achieved much in my life. Sure, I had a good job. Sure, my life was in order. But my wife was the achievement I needed to complete my life, okay? There it is.’<br />
<br />
She slowly lowered the phone and I lowered my knife as well.<br />
<br />
‘That’s sweet. I never cared about relationships in my own life though. I simply didn’t feel that it was my purpose in life to make that special connection with someone. No, my greatest achievement was to rob the biggest house in the entire land. The richest woman of all time lived in that house, and she was surrounded by all the wealth she had collected over the years.<br />
<br />
And I decided to make my life complete. One night, I snuck inside the house. It was a heavily guarded building as one would expect. I brought one of my fellow colleague thieves with me. We studied the house for a while and we found the perfect access point where it was completely dark and where there were no guards if you could time it well. So we climbed in through a window on the second floor. Once we were in, we looked around and everywhere we could see, there was gold, silver and jewels!<br />
<br />
Of course we could’ve stolen the stuff that was in the room with us, but we wanted to see what else was kept in the house. We snuck into several rooms and noticed that none of them were even furnished. There were only riches. Riches everywhere.<br />
<br />
Until we entered the sixth room on the second floor. We opened the door and there she was, the owner of the house. She sat in a chair made out of solid gold. The room was also unfurnished, just like the rest of the chambers. The woman looked at us and asked what our purpose was. We didn’t reply and she got out of her chair. She called us thieves, burglars and said that she’d rather die than<br />
that she would give up any of her wealth to us. I knew she was going to raise an alarm as soon as she could... I ducked down and picked up one of the solid gold bricks that lied on the ground. I threw the brick at the woman without thinking it through and I hit her right on the forehead.<br />
<br />
The woman fell down on the floor and in her fall she dropped a diamond she was holding. It was bigger than any jewel I had ever seen. My colleague who had been watching me, picked it up and was just as astonished by its beauty as I was. She told me we should get out of the house, before anyone would notice that we were there.<br />
<br />
The diamond wasn’t important to me though. It was the burglary itself and I wanted to leave my mark. I grabbed my small canister of oil from my belt and lit a match. I looked around me, but there was no furniture or anything to burn something in the room. My colleague told me to hurry up. I looked down to the ground and realized what I had to do. Without hesitating, I drew my name in oil onto the unconscious woman and dropped the lit match.<br />
<br />
I do regret my actions of that night. But I had to leave something that would prove my presence there. It was my first murder. It was also my last.’<br />
<br />
She finished her story and sounded very satisfied. This meant that there might’ve been a chance that they would set my wife on fire… My wife. Poisoned. Or burned.<br />
<br />
‘Did you like my story, Jason?’<br />
<br />
I sighed and buried my face into my hand.<br />
<br />
‘No, Annie. No I didn’t. I’m very sorry, but I don’t enjoy hearing stories about killers, and... and poison and fire, while there’s someone out there who needs me. I am sick and tired of your fucking test!’<br />
<br />
I shouted to her, I lost my cool. I stood up and threw my knife into the table in front of me.<br />
<br />
‘Take it easy, Jason. Don’t ruin this for yourself,’ she said as she looked up to me with her stone cold, emotionless face.<br />
<br />
‘Excuse me, but I think I have the right to lash out here. Up until this point I have been calm, and I’ve done what you said. Well, I am so tired of it!’<br />
<br />
I started pacing around nervously, my eyes were focused on the knife, my hands put in my sides.<br />
<br />
‘You know what? Fuck your test. If you don’t tell me right now where my wife is, then I’ll take matters into my own hand, Annie!’<br />
<br />
I grabbed the knife in a moment of frustration and desperation. I looked at Annie and noticed that, just like Rose, she closed her eyes. I walked up to her and grabbed her by the hair. It was as if I was holding a dead body, she didn’t struggle and didn’t even resist.<br />
<br />
I held the knife to her throat and when I was about to speak, I suddenly heard my wife’s voice again.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"><b>Chapter VII - Marianne's story</b></span></div>
<br />
‘Baby, please… Don’t do it… They know what you’re doing in that house!’<br />
<br />
I turned my head and I saw the first woman holding up my phone. Her eyes full of the same emotion I saw before, the one I couldn’t place.<br />
<br />
‘Sweetie, talk to me… Are you okay? What are they doing to you?’<br />
<br />
‘I… I don’t know. They haven’t done anything yet. But they say that they know what you’re doing. I can’t see anything. But please listen to them, trust me. They say it’s over for us when you do what you’re about to do. Jason, what are you doing?.. Please be careful…’<br />
<br />
I hesitated. But then I lowered the knife and let go of Annie’s head. She dropped down on the floor, but didn’t make any sound or movement. The woman hung up the phone.<br />
<br />
‘Sit down, Jason. You’re not the one in charge here. Annie explained it very clearly to you before. We stick to our word. Mind your temper Jason, or this is has all been a monumental waste of time for everyone.’<br />
<br />
Reluctantly, I sat down and pinned the knife into the table again.<br />
<br />
‘I swear, if you hurt her, you’ll pay.’<br />
<br />
‘Yes, yes, I’m sure that you’ll make everyone pay. But need I remind you that we won’t do anything to her, unless you step out of line? You’re the only one who could be the reason for any harm to come upon her. Remember, we’re watching.’<br />
<br />
I looked at Annie and Rose.<br />
<br />
‘Well, not them obviously,’ she continued after she noticed me looking at the two women.<br />
<br />
‘Get on with it,’ I sneered at her.<br />
<br />
‘You don’t trust easily do you?’ she asked me.<br />
<br />
‘I have a hard time trusting burglars and kidnappers by their word. So no, I don’t trust easily.’<br />
<br />
‘Well, you don’t have any other choice than to trust us. Now, there’s something you must know about me. I too have been the victim of kidnapping once. So I know how you and especially your dear wife must feel.’<br />
<br />
‘Then stop this! Stop it now!’<br />
<br />
‘I can’t do that, this whole evening has been set in motion already. Now listen, Jason, my name is Marianne and I can safely say that I’m the oldest of the ladies in this room. It was in the first decade of the 18th century that I met the man who has haunted me ever since that moment.<br />
<br />
One evening, I was on my way home when a man approached me. The sight of the man sent shivers down my spine. It still does when I think back to it. He wore a long cloak and he had an awful haircut. He had strings of hair popping out of his head. I think there were 6, maybe 7 plucks of hair, all combed backwards. It seemed silly to leave that few hairs on your head when the rest was already bald.<br />
<br />
He asked me if I wanted to have a chat with him. Naturally, I refused, but he kept saying that he must insist, every single time I declined his offer. The man was about a head taller than I was and I felt threatened by his presence and his behavior.’<br />
<br />
…I stop writing for a second. There’s a sound, coming from the far end of the corridor, distant at first, but slowly getting louder. It is the sound of footsteps. It’s the first sound I hear that sounds different from the regular environmental sounds, like the wind outside or the loud clicks of the light. I get off my bench to look at who’s approaching. Yet the corridor is dark as usual. I can’t see anything. The moonlight from outside doesn’t light up the passage. The footsteps get closer and the faintest noise of breathing rises through the clacking of the soles. I don’t dare to speak up, I merely stand there and listen.<br />
<br />
When the footsteps almost have passed my cell, the sound stops. I focus as hard as possible, but my eyes have never before been exposed to this much darkness. I can’t see a thing. I stand there for minutes, trying to catch a glimpse of what just passed my cell.<br />
<br />
As I stand there, all of a sudden I feel a slight breeze rush into my nose holes. The foul stench that is accompanying the rush of breath makes me stumble backwards, realizing that the… thing stood right before me, looking at me, inspecting me as if he was able to read my every thoughts just by looking into my eyes. I back away towards the bench.<br />
<br />
The breathing continues and I don’t want to hear the sound any longer. As I’m about to speak up and ask the person to reveal himself… or herself to me, a male voice coming from the same direction breaks through the wall of silence.<br />
<br />
‘Jason… 79 years… 5 granted. Thankfulness.’<br />
<br />
The words blow through the cell door and fill the room. 79 years? Thankfulness? What does he mean by that? I want to get up and ask, but the breathing stopped before I got the chance to stand up.<br />
<br />
‘Hello? Are you still there?’<br />
<br />
No reaction… I walk to the bars to make another attempt at seeing the man, but it is futile. Although he has to still be here, I’m sure of it.<br />
<br />
FLASH! The lights in the entire corridor light up for a split second, before immediately turning off again. The sudden amount of light blinds me, yet the silhouette of the man clearly lit up before I lost my eye sight by the explosion of light. I try to get the flash off my retina and right when it’s almost gone, another flash fills the area. But this time, there’s no silhouette…<br />
<br />
Unsure of what I just saw, I return to my bench. I rub my eyes and try to understand what happened.<br />
<br />
79 years… What… Well, back to my writings. Where did I leave that pen?..<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"><b>Chapter VIII - My appearance</b></span></div>
<br />
‘I started to run. I wanted to get away from the man. As I sprinted down the dark road, I looked behind me multiple times and it surprised me that he didn’t follow me. I went home as quick as I could. My husband wasn’t there. He told me earlier that week that he would be gone for a little while. He said that he had to go to another town for business. Something about an important trade. It was the first time that I was alone in my house. Even though my husband was a tradesman, he normally didn’t leave the town and if he did, he would take me with him. I asked him if I could come with him, but he told me that this trade was very important and he couldn’t use any distractions.<br />
<br />
I couldn’t sleep that night. All I could think of was the man in the cloak. How he constantly stepped in front of me when I was about to pass him. He seemed so abnormal, the way he dressed and his hair… And the things he said.<br />
<br />
All he said was: ‘Please, I insist.’<br />
<br />
Over and over again. The greedy, aggressive look that he had in his eyes… argh even now it freaks me out!<br />
<br />
I got out of bed and went to the kitchen to drink some water. I sat down and buried my face in my hands with my elbows on the table. The words of the man just wouldn’t go away, they kept flowing around in my head. His voice, calling out my name. Marianne… Marianne…<br />
<br />
Until I opened my eyes and realized that his words weren’t in my head. I looked right in the eyes of the man. He was in my house, sitting right in front of me.<br />
<br />
‘Marianne… Would you like to talk with me now?’ he said.<br />
<br />
It scared me so badly that I jumped up out of my seat, tripped and fell over backwards. My head smacked against the wall and I slowly slipped into unconsciousness.<br />
<br />
I honestly don’t know how long I was out for. It felt like weeks. But when I woke up, I wasn’t in my house anymore. I was tied up. My hands were bound to a steel pole in the middle of a square, empty room with a door on each side. And there he was, right in front of me. He sat on a wooden chair with his hands on his lap, looking at me intently, studying me. He had a book in front of him and every now and then he would start writing things down. I couldn’t see what he was writing, but I assumed he was writing about my behavior and the movements that I made.<br />
<br />
‘I see you’re looking at my book, Marianne. I like to write things,’ is what he said.<br />
<br />
‘People are afraid of me. Do you know why that is?’<br />
<br />
His voice was very neutral, there wasn’t a trace of emotion to be found in it. I didn’t want to reply to him. My eyes were tearing and I tried to loosen myself from the pole I was bound to.<br />
<br />
‘Would you like to write in my book too, Marianne? I can let you, but only if you truly want it. In this book I keep my observations of people. I write down their emotions when I talk to them, or even when I see them look at me while I’m walking outside. I’m not a bad person, Marianne. But people judge me by my looks. But… this is just who I am. I like to look like this. Stop struggling, you’re not going to get loose like that.’<br />
<br />
Realizing that he was right, I sighed and stopped moving my arms. I looked at the man in desperation while tears ran down my cheek. I begged him to let me go…<br />
<br />
‘You don’t have to beg. I just want to try something out with you. Something I came up with by myself. I wrote it down in my book as well, if you want to read it. But first, I need to try it. You can read all about it later of course. Right, now. I am going to untie you, but before I do that, I’m going to give you some options, okay?’<br />
<br />
I nodded and continued listening to him.<br />
<br />
‘So, I noticed that you’ve been looking around a lot. It’s in my book already too, I wrote it down. And as you might’ve seen, there are four exits out of this room. 3 doors will lead to death. Only one of them will lead to safety. And I’m going to tell you which exit to take as soon as I’ve untied you..’<br />
<br />
I asked him if he was going to let me go, just like that.<br />
<br />
‘No Marianne, I am not. I’m placing before you a choice and it’s not a very easy one. While I am still very angry about how you treated me, I can’t keep you here forever. And I’m not a fan of cleaning up bodies either. I’ve had to do that before. But before you leave, you have to ask yourself. Are you willing to place trust in the man who kidnapped and threatened you?’<br />
<br />
I wasn’t willing, obviously. The man wasn’t sane, he held some kind of grudge against me and he had to dispose of bodies before.<br />
<br />
‘So, are you ready?’<br />
<br />
The man got out of his chair, closed his book and walked towards me.<br />
<br />
‘Be careful out there,’ he whispered in my ear as he was loosening the ropes, ‘the door on your left will lead to your safety.’<br />
<br />
I came loose from the pole and I looked into the man’s cold, dead eyes. My face was mere centimeters away from his. He grinned at me while I was feeling the grating wounds on my wrists caused by the rope. From the corner of my eye I could see the door open. I looked to my left and saw the dark corridor that stretched out behind the opening. There wasn’t anything to see besides blackness. I turned my head to look at the door to the right of me. The corridor was just as dark as the other one, yet in the distance I could see lights and illuminated houses. I didn’t doubt my choice for one moment. I pushed the man away as hard as I could and started running towards the door on the right. I didn’t consider the other two doors, I just needed to get to the houses in the distance. As I ran into the darkness, I looked behind me and saw the silhouette of the man standing in the door opening.<br />
<br />
I turned my gaze forward and ran as fast as I could to the houses.<br />
<br />
The lights came closer and I knew I made the right choice. The darkness slowly faded away and the area became brighter with every step I took. After a little while I arrived in the small village, the room that I escaped from disappeared from the view. I went to the first house that had light shining through the windows. I arrived at the wooden door and wanted to knock as hard as I could. My fist flew through the cold air… and air was the only thing it touched. I didn’t believe my eyes and I tried to touch the door, but I couldn’t feel it. I let my arms wade through the door, through the walls and windows, but the more I touched the illusion, the more the house started to vaporize, its visuals slowly taken away by the wind.<br />
<br />
Panicky, I turned around to go to another house and before I realized what happened, I saw a knife flying through the air… I got stabbed many times that night by the man whose last words to me were that I should’ve trusted him.’<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red;">Chapter IX - Iris' story</span></b></div>
<br />
She sighed as she finished her story. I listened to it intently. Unlike the other women, she didn’t yet close her eyes. I looked around the room at the other women. The one called Annie was still on the ground, Rose had her eyes closed. The other ones still didn’t move a muscle, their eyes still following my every move. My wife’s voice wouldn’t leave my head.<br />
<br />
She said that they knew what I was doing in the house. That meant they were watching me. I started looking around the room. If they were watching me, they would’ve placed a camera of some sort in the house.<br />
<br />
‘Jason, do you understand why I know how you must feel now?’ Marianne asked me.<br />
<br />
‘Uhu,’ I replied to her while I kept looking around the room for anything out of the ordinary. I was convinced that they had placed a recording device somewhere, that’s probably also why they cut the lights and lit those weak candles, so I wouldn’t see it that easily. I got up from my chair and started walking past the bookcase, my fingers touching the surface of the wood. I heard Marianne’s voice behind me, asking what I was doing. I didn’t respond to her question and continued touching the shelves.<br />
<br />
‘Jason, I must ask you to come back here. It’s my turn now.’<br />
<br />
An unfamiliar voice addressed me. I let my eyes flow through the room, past the bookshelf and the TV which I recognized in the darkness by the orange light that was burning, indicating that it was on stand-by. I walked back to my seat and rubbed through my eyes nervously, knowing that I was being watched. My heart was pumping harder than normal and my hands were sweaty. I didn’t know how much longer I could sit there, listening to those women. Goodness… fire, poison or a knife. With that thought in mind I turned my attention to the 4th woman, noticing that Marianne now too closed her eyes.<br />
<br />
‘Hello Jason, I’m Iris and I was happily married once. I had found myself a man who would go through fire and flames to protect me. He did everything for me. We had been together for years and all was well until one morning in August.<br />
<br />
The sun was shining brightly. The rays of light shun through a tiny opening between the curtains. It felt really nice and warm. I turned myself around to cuddle up to my husband, but all I could feel were sheets and the matrass. I found it strange, because he would never leave without saying something to me first.<br />
<br />
I got out of bed and went to investigate. Perhaps he was in the kitchen, preparing some breakfast. But when I entered the kitchen, he wasn’t there. Puzzled by his sudden disappearance, I sat down on a chair in the living room. And I waited. And waited. But he never came home. So I went to my friends’ house to ask if she knew anything. Perhaps she had seen him that day.<br />
<br />
It was in the late afternoon that I knocked on the door of the house. My friend opened and as soon as she saw me, she immediately embraced me.<br />
<br />
‘Thank God you’re okay,’ she said.<br />
<br />
I didn’t understand what she meant. Why wouldn’t I be okay?.. It was then that she told me she had seen my husband earlier that day, in the morning. He was apparently walking around anxiously on the edge of the town with an axe rested on his shoulder.<br />
<br />
‘Listen, don’t go look for him. I found this note a few hundred meters away from where I saw him.’<br />
I took the note that she held in front of me and read through it.<br />
<br />
<i>Your sister has been killed. Come find me at the borders of the town. I’ll be waiting for you there to help.</i><br />
<br />
I asked my friend if she had spoken to my husband, but she hadn’t. She didn’t dare to. His face appeared to be full of rage, his knuckles turned white from gripping the axe too hard.<br />
Concerned as I was, I ignored her advice about finding him and I ran towards the location that she described. When I arrived, I could see my husband from a distance. There was a woman talking to him. I came closer and as soon as she saw me she turned away, and sprinted into the forest that grew on the border of the town.<br />
<br />
I didn’t think anything of it, until my husband turned around and looked me straight in the eyes. His eyes were filled with rage… and sorrow. He approached me slowly and started to talk to me.<br />
<br />
‘You…’ he said, ‘You thought I wouldn’t find out?’<br />
<br />
I was confused. I couldn’t find any other words than ‘I’.<br />
<br />
‘You never liked her, did you? You hated her. I could always hear it in the way you talked with her. And the way you looked at her. You wanted to be her. Yes! You were jealous of her. So jealous that you killed her!’<br />
<br />
The sudden stream of accusations surprised me. He really thought that I killed his sister.<br />
<br />
‘And you used this axe, didn’t you? Her blood is still on it… Look at it… Look at it!!’<br />
<br />
I started to slowly back up as he came closer to me.<br />
<br />
‘And guess where I found it? In our shed. Coincidence?’<br />
<br />
Slowly I pointed to where the woman had run off to and asked him who it was that he spoke with. I assumed it was her who wrote the note.<br />
<br />
‘She told me all about it. How you hacked and how you slashed.’<br />
<br />
He reinforced his every word by taking another step in my direction.<br />
<br />
‘You got home late last night. I could hear you rumble around in the shed. It was you. After everything I’ve done for you… How could you do this to my family? How could you?!’<br />
<br />
In a moment of panic, I started running away. I didn’t know what to say to him, he seemed so convinced that I killed his sister. But I didn’t. I had no idea how that axe ended up in the shed. The moment I ran off, he started to chase me, out for revenge with a blood thirst in his eyes. I wasn’t used to running, so there was no way I was going to be able to outrun him. I could hear his breathing and his footsteps quickly coming closer and I knew that I couldn’t stay away from him for long.’<br />
<br />
Something didn’t sit right with me. I was thinking… what did I miss? During her story, Iris didn’t look right at me anymore, she got so caught up in her own story that she started looking just past me.<br />
I had to think that night through. How were they following my every move? I needed to retrace my steps. After I entered the house, I went upstairs. I came down. Turned on the TV, went to have dinner and then this whole ordeal started. Yet something wasn’t right, something was off.<br />
<br />
Off? No, not off. Stand-by! The television! I put it on stand-by when I was at the dinner table. That was it. The light was burning red then, but what I saw before Iris started her story was a light burning orange!<br />
<br />
I looked at Iris who still was talking and describing her chase. I got up from my chair without making much noise and walked towards the orange light that was shining in the other part of the room.<br />
<br />
‘He started swinging his axe and I could hear the swoosh it was making as it cut through the air. He was so close that I could almost feel the metal touch the upper layer of my skin.<br />
<br />
All of a sudden a screaming pain went through my ankle and I fell over. I could see the shadow of my husband as I raised my head up from the ground. Slowly, but steadily I turned around and looked at my ankle which had the axe cleaved into it. The man who was standing over me pulled a knife out of his belt and pulled me up by the collar of my clothing.<br />
<br />
‘You shouldn’t have done this,’ he said to me as he put the knife to my throat. I could feel the metal on my skin, closed my eyes and waited for what was to come.<br />
<br />
A sound then rumbled through the area, echoing for seconds. While the echo was fading away, I could feel that the pressure of the knife reduced and my husband’s grip loosened along with it. With his entire weight, he fell on top of me. His forehead touched mine and I could feel a warm liquid running down my head. I opened my eyes and looked straight into a dead man’s glazy and empty stare.<br />
<br />
I screamed and pushed him off me. I got on my feet, struggling to stay up. Limping, I put a few meters between myself and the body before turning around to look at what went down. My husband lay dead in the sandy road. Not far away from him stood another man, a pistol with a smoking barrel in his right hand and his other hand tucked inside his pocket, hiding a rectangular object. He didn’t look in my direction. He simply stood there, looking at the body he just shot.<br />
<br />
I wanted to call out to the man and thank him for his help. But as I took a closer look upon him, I realized he didn’t deserve it…’<br />
<br />
Another sigh flew through the room.<br />
<br />
‘That was quite the story huh, Jason? I bet your wife would’ve loved to hear that one. Jason? Where’d you go?’<br />
<br />
‘He’s over there, by the TV.’<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red;">Chapter X - Lost patience</span></b></div>
<br />
A fifth woman answered Iris’ question. While she wrapped up her story, I went to the television to check out the orange light that was shining. I had a short time to inspect what it was. Just as I suspected, the light didn’t come from the TV itself. There was an object placed in front of it. I took it off the TV table and pulled loose what seemed to be a cable of some kind. I still couldn’t see it very well. As soon as I grabbed the object, I could hear the 5th woman’s voice.<br />
<br />
From the corner of the room where I was standing, the candle lights illuminated the faces of the women. I had spent a few hours with those women in the room, yet I didn’t get accustomed to their eerie, emotionless, pale faces. I could see that Iris had now also closed her eyes. The woman next to her, all the way on the left of the couch was staring at me. Never did I understand why each of them only spoke one at a time. I walked closer to the couch and my chair and stepped into the light.<br />
<br />
I had reached the point where my fear turned into anger. Knowing that I found the device that kept me at a disadvantage, knowing that I destroyed the connection, gave me strength. That was what my wife meant… that’s how they knew what was happening in the house. Of course they couldn’t see anything in the darkness, but they could hear everything that was going on.<br />
<br />
‘I found your little device near the TV…’ I said to her. ‘Have you been filming me? Have you been watching me?’<br />
<br />
She looked at me, confused.<br />
<br />
‘I… I don’t…’<br />
<br />
‘Is this how you communicated with the ones who hold my wife? Is that it?’<br />
<br />
She stared at me. I knew I had her right where I wanted her. The tremble in her voice gave away her insecurity about the change of the situation.<br />
<br />
‘Jason, my name is…’ she started talking, but I didn’t want to hear it anymore.<br />
<br />
‘I don’t care what your name is!’ I shouted at her.<br />
<br />
I slowly walked closer to her. I held the device in my hand, the candle light illuminated it and I knew for sure that I was holding a camera.<br />
<br />
‘The last hours, I sat here, listening to the morbid, disturbing and farfetched stories that you threw in my way… And I’m tired of it. So tell me. How are you going to communicate with your accomplices now?!’<br />
<br />
With extra emphasis on the last word I threw the device on the ground and stamped on it. The woman on the couch still only looked at me. Her expression didn’t change. The same emotion I saw in the eyes of Marianne showed in hers, yet it seemed stronger. I walked up to her, grabbed her by the hair and pulled her off the couch on her knees. She didn’t struggle, yet she kept her head straight. I reached for the knife I stuck into the table and put it close to her neck.<br />
<br />
‘You are going to tell me right now where you psychos are keeping my wife!’<br />
<br />
‘I can’t tell you, Jason… it’s not how it works.’<br />
<br />
‘Listen to me. I’m changing the way this test of you works. Either you tell me where you are holding her, or I will kill 4 of you and take one of you with me to the place. I’m sure that your accomplices will figure out that the connection was cut, but without some kind of struggle preceding the cut it’s easy for them to believe that it’s the result of some faulty wiring. It’s not like that camera can pick up anything besides sound in this darkness anyway. Now. Tell me!’<br />
<br />
She didn’t say anything back to me. She simply sat there, waiting, hoping that I wouldn’t do what I was about to do. There’s only so much pressure someone can take. And I had too much that night.<br />
<br />
‘I’m going to count to 3. You know what will happen after 3.’<br />
<br />
I looked through the room and noticed that the women had suddenly all opened their eyes again as if they were afraid of what was going to happen. Yet they didn’t look at the woman sitting on the floor, they were looking right at me.<br />
<br />
‘1…’ I said as I glanced down to the knife. No reaction.<br />
<br />
‘2…’ Still nothing… No word from the other women on the couch either. I turned my eyes towards the woman on the floor. She still laid in silence.<br />
<br />
‘3.’<br />
<br />
Realizing that the room was completely silent after the final number I called out, I closed my own eyes and pulled the knife…<br />
<br />
The head that felt so heavy before, turned lighter as soon as I made the cut. Kilograms of weight turned into mere grams and as I opened my eyes I saw that the hair I was holding in my hand vaporized into thin air. That which was a woman before, turned into… nothingness.<br />
<br />
Unsure as to what happened, I looked up and saw the other women on the couch. Down all their cheeks rolled a single tear. I glanced at the knife and noticed there was no blood on it.<br />
‘What the hell are you people?..’ I asked them. But nobody responded.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red;">Chapter XI - My appearance</span></b></div>
<br />
All of a sudden I felt some movement in my pocket. I took a few steps backwards and reached inside. I felt the vibration of a phone, my phone! Quickly and anxiously I grabbed it out of my pocket. Without looking at the screen, I picked up.<br />
<br />
‘Baby… Is that you?’<br />
<br />
‘Jason, what have you done?’<br />
<br />
‘What do you mean, what have I done? Are you okay?’<br />
<br />
‘No.. I’m not.’<br />
<br />
‘Wh-what are they doing to you?’<br />
<br />
‘Nothing Jason, nothing… They’re not doing anything. But he is. He’s doing the same thing he’s been doing for over 300 years.’<br />
<br />
‘Marie… What are you talking about? Who is he?’<br />
<br />
‘I’m so sorry, Jason. I was just looking for a way out. We all were… You had to be patient, that’s what you had to do. That’s why you were picked. But you couldn’t…’<br />
<br />
While she was talking, I could hear her sobbing. I didn’t know what the hell she was talking about. It made no sense. I was pacing around the room while listening to her.<br />
<br />
‘Darling, it’s going to be alright. I’m coming to find you, okay?’<br />
<br />
‘No, Jason. Don’t you get it? All of us have to go. We have to, it’s his test. We all failed it.’<br />
<br />
A short silence followed over the phone line. Until she spoke up again.<br />
<br />
‘…I have to go now. He’s coming. Sorry Jason, truly I am.’<br />
<br />
I wanted to say something to her, but the connection stopped. I tried calling her again, but it went straight to voicemail. Everything happened so fast. Desperate, I turned towards the couch again to speak with the women, but there was no trace of them anymore. Instead, a man in a dark cloak had appeared on the couch. The candles illuminated his pale face. He was staring at me. In his lap laid a book. He was writing in it without even looking at the pages.<br />
<br />
‘What’s going on?..’ I hesitantly asked him. He stopped writing and closed his book.<br />
<br />
‘You failed your test. They failed their test.’<br />
<br />
‘What does that mean…’<br />
<br />
He got up from the couch without replying to my question. He walked around the table and started to put out the candles. As he moved to the final candle, he replied to me. Total darkness surrounded us as he left his disturbing statement.<br />
<br />
‘It means your fate has been decided.’<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red;">Chapter XII - Elizabeth's story</span></b></div>
<br />
I lay down my pen and put my head against the wall. I’ve been writing for a few days now. Every time I remembered something, a detail of what happened that night, I wrote it down. But I still don’t understand where I am. And I have no idea if my wife is safe… Oh, Marie… what have I done?<br />
The man with the book. He said to me that I failed. My wife said I failed… It wasn’t until I wrote it all down that I put the link between the man in Marianne’s story and the man that appeared in my house. But who is he?<br />
<br />
‘Who is he…’ I mumble.<br />
<br />
A sound, other than my voice cuts through the silence and I turn towards the corridor.<br />
‘You’ve seen him in here, haven’t you? And out there too… Most of us have.’<br />
<br />
Surprised by the sudden question, I walk towards the metal bars of my cell.<br />
<br />
‘Seen him? You mean the man with the book?’ I ask her. A moment of silence follows my question…<br />
<br />
‘The man with the book you call him. We call him the warden. Most of us have seen him. Either when we were alive, or when we were here.’<br />
<br />
I try to see the woman who’s speaking to me, but the corridor remains as dark as usual.<br />
<br />
‘You know, I… I mean Marianne, was the first one to ever meet the warden. It was more than 350 years ago that he started his tests. I remember the story so well. Marianne was the very first of his test subjects.’<br />
<br />
Marianne... She was one of the five women in my house.<br />
<br />
‘Marianne? Wait… You know her?’<br />
<br />
‘I know a lot about her, Jason. And about Annie, Rose, Iris. And yes, about Marie too… I’ve seen it all. Jason, I was there the night you got taken.’<br />
<br />
A bell starts to ring in my head. She’s the fifth woman! The woman I tried to kill…<br />
<br />
‘You’re the 5th woman… I put my knife to your throat, didn’t I?’<br />
<br />
‘Yes... yes you did. My name’s Elizabeth. I never got the chance to apologize for the situation I got you into. Jason… I truly am sorry that you are locked in here and I’m very sorry for the night at your house.’<br />
<br />
The woman didn’t make any sense. I need more information. I need to know what happened and I have a strong feeling that she can explain everything.<br />
<br />
‘Wait, wait… You were at my house? Then what are you doing here? Where are we now anyway? Who are you? And who the hell is the warden?’<br />
<br />
‘Alright, Jason. I realize you need some help figuring out why you’re here. Consider this the 5th story then, my story. Only this time there’s no test. There’s just you, listening to what I have to say. I’m sure it’s easier for you now, knowing that there are no lives at stake here.’<br />
<br />
‘Right...’<br />
<br />
‘The warden is an evil creature. It’s still unknown to those who have seen him what he is exactly. Is he the devil? Is he a god of some kind? Nobody knows. The warden tests people. It’s anyone’s guess why he puts people to the test and locks them up if they fail. You, me and all the other women you saw that night at your house have been tested. Most of them even multiple times.<br />
As I said before, more than 350 years ago the warden first appeared. His test subject was Marianne. As you heard from her story, she didn’t survive hers.<br />
<br />
She got taken by him and was imprisoned. She was given 61 years, with 10 granted.<br />
I heard the warden pass by your cell and give you 79 years with 5 granted. I’m sure you’ve been wondering what it meant?’<br />
<br />
‘I have,’ I replied.<br />
<br />
‘Most of the prisoners here didn’t understand what the warden meant with it. You didn’t either… But I’m sure you have come up with some theories, haven’t you?’<br />
<br />
‘I figured 79 years was the number of years I had to spend in here. But the 5 granted I couldn’t place… I thought maybe it had to do something with parole, but why would someone who puts people in prison like this be using a parole system? It doesn’t make sense.’<br />
<br />
She smirked.<br />
<br />
‘Parole… You’re not far off though. You have to understand that the prisoners are granted a chance of getting out of here. A chance in the form of a test. Jason, do you remember the story that Annie told you? Annie was given that chance, or should I say… Marianne was given that chance.’<br />
<br />
I look into her direction with a confused face. Then I realize she can’t see it through the darkness.<br />
<br />
‘You lost me there. What do you mean with ‘Marianne was given that chance?’’<br />
<br />
‘The warden gives people a chance to… redeem themselves as it were. They’re given a chance to get out of here, but the only way they can get released from this prison is by doing a test. A test, just like the one you got. Only this time, they get to be the tester. However in reality, it is just the warden’s way of getting more people in his prison.’<br />
<br />
‘But what does Marianne have to do with Annie?’<br />
<br />
The area went silent for a moment.<br />
<br />
‘When the warden first stabbed Marianne, he made sure not to trap her body in his prison, but instead he trapped something more important, something far more valuable…’<br />
<br />
‘What was it?’<br />
<br />
‘Her soul. Marianne was dead after he stabbed her, there was no way he could keep her body alive in the prison. Yet her soul kept on living. And that’s when he decided to continue his tests and keep on collecting souls in his prison. He gave Marianne 61 years of imprisonment with 10 years granted.’<br />
<br />
‘Then what happened?..’<br />
<br />
‘After so many years in a dark cage, with nothing to live for, you take every chance you get of getting out of it. After 51 years, the warden came to Marianne and offered her a way out. On one condition… she had to find a new subject within 10 years, test the person and make sure he or she passed the test. Only then would she be released.’<br />
<br />
'Just like that?'<br />
<br />
‘No, the warden doesn’t let any soul out of his cell until the moment of testing. So he made Marianne an offer. He would let part of her soul go to the world of the living in her place to find a test subject. The split soul would then be too weak to return to a human form and escape on its own, but just strong enough to perform the task that was assigned.’<br />
<br />
‘And Marianne accepted?’<br />
<br />
‘She did. What else could she do? And that’s where Annie comes into play. She is part of Marianne and she is the one who got sent out to find a subject. Finding a subject is the only thing she had to do. The warden still models the tests, every part of it. And just like everyone in this prison, she was given a specific element to test on. I’m sure you can guess which one that was…’<br />
<br />
‘Greed?’<br />
<br />
‘That’s right… Once the subject was found and the test was prepared and put into place, Marianne could join Annie in the test. Unfortunately, the woman in the house who possessed all the riches there was to possess, would rather die than get split of a single part of it.’<br />
<br />
‘But it’s an unfair test… I mean… what’s yours is yours, right?’<br />
<br />
‘The warden has a sick mind. He puts people in situations they don’t have any control over. It wasn’t fair to have you listen to 5 people’s stories either when your wife was in trouble. Neither was it fair to test Iris’ husband for forgiveness. But we couldn’t say anything… I saw you look into our eyes so many times, Jason.’<br />
<br />
The emotion in their eyes… They were desperate. And they felt guilty.<br />
<br />
‘So all the stories that you told… actually happened?’<br />
<br />
‘Yes. Naturally certain details of the stories changed, but the tests were real… After Marianne and Annie failed theirs, another 61 years passed until the next test. Of course you remember Iris’ story. Then after that was Rose’s, who had to test loyalty.<br />
<br />
And all parts of the soul were there too. The three women who were tricking her man into being disloyal were Marianne, Annie and Iris. Another unfair test. After that it was my turn to be the tester, but I’m not going to bother you with the details. And then, finally…’<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red;">Chapter XIII - MARIE</span></b></div>
<br />
‘It was Marie’s turn…’<br />
<br />
I finish her sentence without thinking. It’s hard for me to believe that I spent 10 years with her, while she was only there to provide an exit for herself. I turn my head away from the corridor and place the back of my head in between two bars. Behind me, Elizabeth continues to talk.<br />
<br />
‘Your test… was patience. That was the one I got assigned, that was the test I sent part of me back to earth for. And that’s why there were 5 women on your couch on the night of the test. And 1 woman missing. All 6 the same person, all part of the same soul. I know I’ve apologized to you before. And I know it won’t help anything, but you have to understand that I’ve tried my hardest to make sure everything would be fine. If you had passed the test, I could’ve gone back to earth to live with you, as Marie. She was the last soul after all. And then all of us would be free. All 6 of me… And all 7 of us.’<br />
<br />
‘Are all parts of your soul in here?’<br />
<br />
‘Yes they are. The split is permanent... Unless you pass the test. Then all splits will be undone and you will get released in the form of the last soul. In my case, I would go back as Marie.’<br />
<br />
I return to my bench to write down everything that has been said. It’s kind of hard for me to believe the entire story and all that has happened in the past days.<br />
<br />
The warden, I saw him twice. He told me my sentence and my test. I understand it now.<br />
<br />
79 years, 5 granted. My test: Thankfulness.<br />
<br />
Well, I’m not going to condemn an innocent soul to this prison. The warden can fuck off for all I care. There is no way in hell that he is going to get any new prisoners through me.<br />
<br />
‘Jason?..’<br />
<br />
I escape my own thoughts and turn my head towards the corridor.<br />
<br />
‘I still love you. Please hold my hand…’<br />
<br />
I know it seems stupid and I understand that it’s not Marie in the cell opposite of me, it’s Elizabeth. Yet their souls are connected. They are part of each other. They are the same. I can’t help but still feel attached to her. After all, everything I did that night, I did to secure her safety. I walk towards the bars again and sit down. Hesitantly, I put my arm through the bars and grab her hand, hoping that Marie can feel my touch as I hold Elizabeth’s hand.<br />
<br />
And I hope that she can hear my every word as I close my eyes and reply to her.<br />
<br />
‘And I still love you.’<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red;">Chapter XIV - Their release</span></b></div>
<br />
The prisoner in cell 2014m once wrote that he wasn’t going to condemn anyone to my prison. That’s what most say once they figure out the way my tests work. Strangely enough he has held on to that thought longer than anyone I’ve ever put in here.<br />
<br />
It has now been 64 years since his imprisonment and I can see that he’s contemplating going back on earth to try and free himself. Ah… yes. It’s because of that prisoner that used to be in cell 1953a. They have gotten pretty attached to each other since they met. Love. Gross.<br />
<br />
It hit me after I read his book. That’s why he wants to get out. That’s why he’s changing his mind. 3 years ago, prisoners of cell 2014a, 1953a, 1892a, 1831a, 1770a and 1709 managed to pass their test. I never thought that would happen. I suppose that those who have been here long enough have gotten used to the rules and have gotten used to my methods. Well I think it’s about time I change my methods then.<br />
<br />
Good luck, Jason. You’re going to need it.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red;">Chapter XV - My apology</span></b></div>
<br />
I'll be the one to finish this book, not you!<br />
<br />
He sits at his old wooden table. His chamber is lit by candle light as always. In front of him lay 8 books. 7 closed, 1 open. He doesn’t even realize that he’s talking to himself.<br />
<br />
‘Yes… this will make a good novel. I have to put their stories together. I bet he’ll love that. I might let him read it, but only if he really wants to. I better find some good entries,’ he says before he starts to flip through the 7 books that lay in front of him.<br />
<br />
‘Oh… this is a good one. I’ll put that there. And then… hers. I’ll have to start with his story, that’s the basis. Oh yes, this will be great. Too bad he’s not good at remembering dialogue. Oh but I can use hers… And hers. Their stories are marvelous… So much more detailed than his. This is what I was looking for. Oh… I don’t really like that part. I’ll have to do something about that. He might not like it as much though… I just have to make sure I follow his story. That’s the most important.’<br />
<br />
The warden has spent days compiling the 7 stories into one. He was more motivated than ever.<br />
<br />
‘Ah… I need to start my new tests soon. Good thing I already have an ending for the story. Should I tell him? No, I shouldn’t.’<br />
<br />
He starts flipping through his book to find a specific page.<br />
<br />
‘Where did I write it down again? Aha! There it is. That will fit perfectly. Let me just rip that part out… and put it there. Perfect. Now it’s done. My best so far.’<br />
<br />
With those last words, he closes his book and writes the title and his name on the cover.<br />
<br />
‘It’s finished. My best so far, you can read it. It documents my work perfectly,’ he tells me. He gets up to pick up a new, empty book from his enormous bookshelf that stretches out for meters. He sticks it under his arm and slowly walks out the room into the darkness, on to another series of tests.<br />
<br />
I get up from my chair and sit at the desk. The stories that are told in the book that lies in front of me are very familiar to me. As I read through it, I realize it isn’t the warden who is responsible for the chain of events that is described on these pages. It is me. I made all that happen.<br />
<br />
He came to me once. He said that he wanted to make me an offer. He asked me to find a victim for his test. What he asked me that one night he showed up inside my house, sounded too good to be true. Find a subject for his test and be granted… immortality. A deal of a lifetime he called it.<br />
<br />
So I did. I did find him one. I told him that my wife would be perfect for his test. A few days after that, I told my wife that I had to leave town for a few days to take care of some business.<br />
<br />
Well.. the warden kept his word and granted me immortality. However it wasn’t the immortality that I had hoped for. He put me in this room, where he spends most his time writing and compiling stories. I’ve tried to escape many times, but every time I failed. I’ve already filled many pages about my futile attempts in my own books. I won’t write them down again, not here at least.<br />
<br />
I am the only one who knows why he does his tests. While most prisoners call him the warden, his true name should be the collector.<br />
<br />
I’ve read many of the books from his large bookcase. All of them are filled with the stories of his prisoners. Thousands of pages full of misery and despair. But this book is personal. I am the one responsible for the start of this story and so I will be the one to end it, not him!<br />
<br />
And I want to end this story by saying that I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Marianne.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-368077552205503600.post-29025791731963502512015-03-02T14:04:00.001+01:002015-03-02T15:12:39.343+01:00So that's what happened to Jimmy...<h2 style="text-align: center;">
So that's what happened to Jimmy...<br />Date written: December 2013</h2>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"><b>-I-</b></span></div>
<br />
It is the year 2020…<br />
<br />
Yeah, okay. I know it’s a cheesy way to start a story, but I just feel that it’s worth mentioning. Especially since it happened 10 years ago. I can’t help but think if I could have saved Jimmy. After all, it was my idea. I dug up the story back then. And it was me who wanted to see what was going on. If only I didn’t let him enter that house…<br />
<br />
Alright, I’m sorry for being so unclear about what happened exactly. Allow me to tell you something about myself first. I’m Simon, 53 years of age, divorced, no kids, 1 cat. I work as a newspaper reporter. I have always had a very curious nature, that’s why I like my work so much.<br />
<br />
Even though I like my work, my cat and my lifestyle, I haven’t felt at ease in my home for the past months. I don’t know why, but I have the feeling that it has something to do with the loss of my good friend Jimmy. And I don’t mean ‘loss’ as in ‘I’m very sorry for your loss’. No, I actually lost him as in ‘he disappeared, never to be heard from again’. I have buried the events of that day deep in my head and almost forgot about them, but during the past months memories have resurfaced. Anyway, I don’t like it here anymore, so I asked for a job transfer and got it and I am about to move to a different town.<br />
<br />
Perhaps you’re wondering what exactly happened to Jimmy? To be honest, I have no idea what happened after he went in that house.<br />
<br />
10 years ago, while I was browsing the internet looking for some interesting things to write about, I stumbled upon a story about a house that had been empty for 135 years, but was never torn down. Interestingly enough, it was a house that was situated not far from my own place. There were some pictures of the house too. Curious as to why the house had been empty and neglected for all that time, I tried contacting the person who had posted the story online. But I never got a response from the poster. So I went to city hall to ask around.<br />
<br />
I questioned several archive workers, but none of them were able to tell me something I didn’t already know about the house. They asked me where I found the information, the story. I told them I found it on the internet. I asked almost everyone at city hall who could had known something about the place.<br />
<br />
But nobody knew anything, or didn’t want to talk about it. Frustrated, I left city hall and went to the house to take a look at it myself. I called Jimmy, my old high school buddy and the photographer at the newspaper , to come over and check it out with me.<br />
<br />
Jimmy was always up for some fun. I drove to our workplace to pick him up. He was always carrying his camera around. He jumped into the car and asked me where we were heading. I told him my story and he looked at me, smirking.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red;">-II-</span></b></div>
<br />
‘I’m serious man,’ I told him. ‘So I was at city hall, and nobody seemed to know anything about that house, some of them even tried to evade my questions, as if I was nuts. And when I asked why the house hadn’t been demolished yet, they just told me that they didn’t have any clue.’<br />
<br />
Jimmy’s facial expression changed. He was thinking. I knew I awoke the journalist inside him and that I got him excited for the story.<br />
<br />
‘Alright man, let’s do it! Let’s go check it out! I got my camera ready so let’s have some fun, yeah?’<br />
We drove to the building and after we arrived we immediately got out of the car.<br />
<br />
‘This is it? Really?’ he said while looking at the building.<br />
<br />
‘Doesn’t seem that unusual, huh…’ I replied.<br />
<br />
I took the photos of the house out of my pocket and held one of them next to the house to compare. The house in its current state was located in between two large modern buildings, in a busy street. There was a lot of traffic on the road and just as many pedestrians walking around along the sidewalk.<br />
<br />
‘Either this house has been renovated in the past 70 years, or someone has a master’s degree in photoshopping.’<br />
<br />
Jimmy leaned in to take a look for himself.<br />
<br />
‘Well, had you shown these pictures to me before, I wouldn’t have come with you,’ he said, smiling.<br />
<br />
‘Come on, let’s enter.’<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red;">-III-</span></b></div>
<br />
‘You boys don’t want to do that, really.’<br />
<br />
A young woman stood next to us. We were just staring at her for a moment.<br />
<br />
‘Hey... you two have never seen a woman before?’<br />
<br />
We snapped out of it and we only just realized what she had said to us.<br />
<br />
‘I’m sorry, what did you say? Why wouldn't we want to do that? You seem to be the first one who actually is willing to tell us a thing or two about the house.’<br />
<br />
‘You two are reporters? It’s not really smart digging up stuff that’s not supposed to be dug up... I’m just saying. Why shouldn’t you go in? Because if you do go in, you never come back out.’<br />
<br />
Jimmy laughed. But she didn’t. She looked dead serious.<br />
<br />
‘Come on… we’re not kids anymore and we certainly don’t believe in fairytales either. What’s the real reason we can’t go in? Did you hide a body in there or something?’ I replied to her, laughing.<br />
<br />
‘Well look, I’m just warning you. There’s something bad going on in that house and I just hate to see something bad happening to anyone that goes even close to that place.’<br />
<br />
‘So be more specific please. You say that anyone going in there doesn’t come back out? So what does that mean? There’s a killer in the house? Death traps? Gas leakages? Surely, if that was the case, city hall already would have had this building torn down long ago.’<br />
<br />
‘I can’t tell you, because I don’t know what is in there. All I know is what I have seen happening. I live in this neighborhood too, you know. And I can always see it happen. People go in, but they never come out. It’s an empty building which the government doesn’t care about, which makes it ideal for homeless people to sneak in, expecting a comfortable stay.<br />
<br />
So either there has been a huge hobo party going on in that house for the past 50 years, or every hobo that went in there died or disappeared without a trace. You may guess which option I find more plausible.’<br />
<br />
‘If that’s the case, why haven’t you ever called the police about this? You seem to know enough to inform them about it…’<br />
<br />
‘Hey, I’m sure you did plenty of research about this place before coming here. And how many people were really interested in sharing information with you?’<br />
<br />
She glanced at us for a moment, we didn’t really know what to answer.<br />
<br />
‘That’s what I thought. So if no one cares, why should the police think any differently ? I’m just trying to do you two a favor and save your lives here…’<br />
<br />
I looked at Jimmy and he looked back at me. Her story, crazy as it may have sounded, made some sort of sense. Indeed nobody wanted to talk about the house, just like she said.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red;">-IV-</span></b></div>
<br />
‘What do you think? We go in anyway?’<br />
Jimmy was thinking. He looked at the house and back at his camera a couple of times. There surely was a good story here. Jimmy nodded.<br />
<br />
‘Alright Simon, since I have the camera, I’ll go in, take some pictures. Perhaps a few good pictures of the hobo fest going on in there’ he said with a wink to the woman.<br />
<br />
She didn’t seem to like his joke at all.<br />
<br />
‘So let’s say there’s a good story to write here, do you think we could use your knowledge of this house in our article, miss…?’<br />
<br />
‘It’s Samantha. And alright, I will provide you with some good material to write about.’<br />
<br />
I felt really good about this. I still was very skeptical about the house and the things that were supposedly happening there. But even if there wasn’t something to write about, at least it would have made for a good horror story.<br />
<br />
‘Alright Jimmy, you go in and take some pictures. You’ve got your phone with you? Keep me posted about everything that’s going on in there, okay? If anything out of the ordinary happens, take a picture and call me if there’s something wrong. I got my phone with me, so I’ll be here waiting for your call, alright?’<br />
<br />
‘Sure thing buddy, I’ll just go then. Hey Samantha, Simon, smile!’ he said and he quickly took a picture. He showed me the screen of the camera and looked back and forth at me and Samantha a few times.<br />
<br />
‘Lovely couple!’ he said, and he started walking to the door of the building. He opened the door which strangely enough wasn’t locked and closed it behind him. I took my phone out of my bag and switched it on.<br />
<br />
The first incoming call appeared on the screen. I picked up and looked at Samantha who was anxiously biting her nails.<br />
<br />
I smirked when I heard Jimmy’s comments. Always the joker.<br />
<br />
He hung up shortly after to explore some more and to take pictures.<br />
<br />
A few minutes after he hung up, he called again. I picked up and put it on speaker phone. I listened to what he had to say. And it didn’t sound good.<br />
<br />
He was talking about not feeling too well, being dizzy and seeing… faces? I talked to him, but he kept asking me to respond. Was my microphone broken? No… It was a brand new phone, so it couldn’t possibly have been that? I noticed some desperation in his voice and shortly after that, he hung up.<br />
<br />
I tried calling him back, but I got a dead tone as soon as I had dialed his number. Only a few minutes later , I got another call from him. I tried to pick up, but the phone didn’t let me, no matter how hard I pressed the buttons. The phone stopped ringing after a minute… I looked at Samantha, but she kept staring at the phone. Shortly after that, the phone started vibrating.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red;">-V-</span></b></div>
<br />
It was the recording call voicemail service. Thank god I downloaded this service. It always came in handy if I needed to hear back a conversation. Very useful for a journalist.<br />
<br />
I opened the service and saw that I had a new voicemail message from Jimmy, it came in shortly after the service recorded my previous conversation with him. I listened to the message…<br />
<br />
It sounded as if Jimmy had lost his mind.<br />
<br />
‘I told you didn’t I?’ Samantha said panicky while pointing at the phone hysterically. ‘This is what happens in that house!’<br />
<br />
I didn’t really know what to do. I looked at her, then back at my phone, then back at her.<br />
<br />
Another voicemail message appeared. I listened to it: Jimmy was screaming for help.<br />
<br />
In a moment of panic and concern for Jimmy, I dropped the phone and ran to the door of the house. I tried to open it, but it didn’t open. It was locked. I started bashing the door, tried kicking it open but no luck. I ran around the house to see if I could find a window to smash in. But there weren’t any on the side or the back.<br />
<br />
I ran back to my car to pick up the phone I dropped. I wanted to call the police. Samantha was still standing there. She shouted to me: ‘The police can’t come! He’s fucked!’<br />
<br />
‘Well, can’t you do something then?! You know this house, you should know what to do!’<br />
<br />
‘Why should I know?! I have never been in there! I don’t even know what exactly is in that house! I warned you both! But you wouldn’t listen! And now your friend is in there!’ she kept shouting at me.<br />
<br />
I tried to call the police, but my phone didn’t dial. In the meantime I had received two new voicemail messages. Jimmy’s messages made less and less sense every minute. What was he talking about? There seemed to be someone… something with him in that house. I listened carefully to the things he said. In the last message he left me, he mumbled:<br />
<br />
‘… where’s the door?!’<br />
<br />
I looked up from the phone to look at Samantha and saw her staring at the house. I looked up and understood why she was staring. The door was gone. The windows were gone. There was nothing but bricks and a roof…<br />
<br />
Samantha was just standing there with her hands in her hair. I looked around and only just noticed at that moment that the busy street turned completely empty. No car or pedestrian to find. I couldn’t stay there without doing a thing so I put my phone in my pocket and started running towards the nearest building to look for help.<br />
<br />
‘Stay there! Keep an eye on the house!’ I shouted to Samantha. The adjacent building was a big apartment complex. I ran to the front door and started to press every button there was to press. I waited impatiently, then pressed the buttons again.<br />
<br />
No dice. Nobody seemed to be home. I turned around and brushed through my hair franticly, thinking about what to do. I took the phone out of my pocket again, to find yet another voicemail message… I listened to it while running back to the car.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red;">-VI-</span></b></div>
<br />
I ran back to the house and to the car. I moved passed Samantha, got in my car and dropped my phone on the passenger seat. Think… Think carefully. I laid my head on my arm on the steering wheel, closed my eyes and tried to understand what had happened in that past hour. I knew I couldn’t leave Jimmy to die there. That was the only thing I knew for sure. Only a few seconds had passed when I heard my phone rang. I took the phone without looking and tried to pick up. It did this time and I heard Jimmy’s voice. However I didn’t really know what I was hearing…<br />
<br />
I opened my eyes rapidly after hearing what Jimmy had said and I threw open the car door. As I did so, I heard a loud curse and there was something falling on the ground. Surprised, I jumped out of the car.<br />
<br />
A man laid on the ground, grinding in pain from the slam of my door. The roads and pavements weren’t deserted anymore. I gazed around me and people looked at me as if I was some kind of bully, or a madman.. I turned around to face the house. Its doors were back, as were its windows.<br />
<br />
‘Hey, are you going to help this man or not?’ a woman on the street asked.<br />
<br />
I looked around, trying to find Samantha in the sudden crowd that had appeared back on the streets, but I didn’t see her. I swallowed, turned around and back a few times to look at the house and without saying anything, in a moment of pure panic and confusion, I got back into my car and drove off, straight back home.<br />
<br />
After a day at home I went to the police. They already had been looking for Jimmy, because he never returned home that day. I told them I knew where he was and that I would lead them to the house. I was sure about the location, the street, the surroundings. It was all so clear in my memory. However when we arrived at the place… there was no house. I couldn’t understand it. I tried to play the messages that Jimmy had left me to the police, but my phone kept on refusing to function. The police got mad at me for wasting their time. I didn’t know what else to tell them, they just wouldn’t believe me.<br />
<br />
For days I waited in my car. I spent hours walking back and forth through the street to see if I could find the house. And I waited for her. I waited for Samantha. She said she lived in the neighborhood, so I started looking for her name on the address plates on the houses of that street.<br />
<br />
Samantha was the only one who could prove I wasn’t going crazy. Because she had been there too, she had seen it all happen. And I knew she could explain everything, I just knew it.<br />
<br />
But she never showed up, I never found her place either. And I really felt like I was being insane. Out of pure frustration, I threw my phone in my basement, never to look at it again. Over the years, I buried the memories of that day deep down in my mind, I tried to move on. And I succeeded to do so, until recently.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red;">-VII-</span></b></div>
<br />
I remember it all so well. I guess this really is the reason I don’t want to stay here anymore. After 10 years, the past has finally caught up to me. I am replaying the events of that day over and over in my head as I am packing and organizing my things.<br />
<br />
It’s early in the morning. Yesterday I went to bed early. I spent most of that day cleaning and packing. Today it’s time for me to clean out the basement.<br />
<br />
Christ, what a mess. I flick on the light of the basement and walk down the stairs to look around to see if I already can see some things I want to take with me. There’s a lot of junk I haven’t touched in years. At the bottom of the stairs I take a look at the floor which is scattered with all kinds of objects. I rest my hands on the back of my head, thinking where to start cleaning.<br />
<br />
Suddenly the door slams shut on top of the stairs. It scares me. Must’ve been my cat. I take yet another look around. With a flash, the whole room turns dark and I can’t see a thing anymore. Damn it, these old light bulbs are worthless. Slowly my eyes get adjusted to dark and I can make out some objects laying around. But I also notice that the room isn’t completely dark. I can see a very small ray of light, shining through the pile of junk along with a muffled ringing sound.<br />
<br />
I wonder what it is. I try and find my way towards it, stumbling over all the stuff I collected over the years. I trip over an empty bottle and land right in front of the illuminating object. I pull it towards me and notice that it’s a phone.<br />
<br />
Not just a phone… It’s the phone I had with me 10 years ago. After all those years… it can’t still be working?<br />
<br />
I look at the screen and I see that the recording call voicemail service is still running. My curiosity tempts me… That entire day has been engraved in the deepest part of my memory for 10 years. And the past few months I wondered if it actually had happened, or if it has just been my mind playing tricks on me.<br />
<br />
I play the recorded conversations and voicemail messages, just to find out…<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"><b>-VIII-</b></span></div>
<br />
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />
RECORDING CALL VOICEMAIL SERVICE<br />
Current user: Simon<br />
Last login: 14-11-2010<br />
Received calls: 9<br />
Missed calls: 6<br />
Voicemail messages left: 6<br />
Old voicemail messages: 5<br />
New voicemail messages: 1<br />
<br />
From: Jimmy<br />
Dated: 14-11-2010<br />
Picked up: Yes<br />
Call duration: 20 seconds.<br />
<br />
“It's been one minute since I entered the house. A challenge is laid upon me, I can make it. I know I can. Haha…<br />
Hey Simon, my mouth feels dry.. Did you bring some water? I forgot to take some with me. Hang on, let me go find a water tap real quick. I’ll call you in a minute.”<br />
<br />
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
From: Jimmy<br />
Dated: 14-11-2010<br />
Picked up: Yes<br />
Call duration: 52 seconds<br />
<br />
“Hey, it’s me again. Listen, I feel a bit weird, my thirst isn’t really gone. If it’s even thirst that I feel. Uh Simon… My mind is getting a bit blurry…<br />
<br />
I'm starting to see faces on the wall.<br />
<br />
No..., not faces. A face, a beautiful one. I try to touch it, but as I get closer it starts fading away. Simon? Say something… Simon? Why aren’t you responding? Hello?”<br />
<br />
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
From: Jimmy<br />
Dated: 14-11-2010<br />
Picked up: No<br />
Voicemail message left.<br />
Message duration: 30 seconds<br />
<br />
“What in god's name is happening to me..? I feel like I'm losing my mind, man. The room gets darker by the minute, yet outside it's as bright as can be. I can’t see you guys through the window. Are you still there? Why aren’t you talking to me? Simon? Pick up the goddamn phone!”<br />
<br />
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
From: Jimmy<br />
Dated: 14-11-2010<br />
Picked up: No<br />
Voicemail message left.<br />
Message duration: 25 seconds<br />
<br />
“I’m not sure if I can take this anymore. The face won't disappear. Simon, I’m begging you… Help me... The room is spinning, man. I feel like it is. STOP WHISPERING TO ME!!!! JUST GO AWAY!!!”<br />
<br />
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
From: Jimmy<br />
Dated: 14-11-2010<br />
Picked up: No<br />
Voicemail message left.<br />
Message duration: 1 minute, 51 seconds<br />
<br />
“Simon? Dude.. pick up! Listen… I just looked into a mirror and looked into my eyes. Those aren't my eyes. She stole my eyes! She stole my fucking eyes! I got her eyes! beautiful eyes… I just smacked myself onto the head to wake myself up from this nightmare, but it doesn’t work.<br />
I don't want to get up. Simon, she doesn’t listen. STOP TALKING TO ME!<br />
I'm scared, petrified. What was a beautiful face before, just turned into a black cloud of darkness and pain. I don’t know what to do… Why won’t you pick up?!”<br />
<br />
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
From: Jimmy<br />
Dated: 14-11-2010<br />
Picked up: No<br />
Voicemail message left.<br />
Message duration: 1 minute, 14 seconds<br />
<br />
“She isn't real. I keep telling myself. What? Simon, pick up the phone for crying out loud! Where are you? She's screaming now, it hurts my ears…<br />
Seriously, every time I close my eyes, her face is there. Every time I open my eyes to escape, she's there. I can't get away, she's everywhere. Where’s the door?!”<br />
<br />
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
From: Jimmy<br />
Dated: 14-11-2010<br />
Picked up: No.<br />
Voicemail message left.<br />
Message duration: 20 seconds.<br />
<br />
“Always looking, always there. That's what they said. That's what I said. Hahaha always.<br />
Huh?.. She's gone.. I can feel it. She left! Simon, are you there? She’s gone!”<br />
<br />
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
From: Jimmy<br />
Dated: 14-11-2010<br />
Picked up: Yes.<br />
Call duration: 9 seconds.<br />
<br />
“Simon… she’s back. I can feel her again… Simon. It’s Samantha…”<br />
<br />
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red;">-IX-</span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
At the end of the final message, I really don’t know what to think. I’m just sitting here with the phone in my hand, my other hand covering my mouth. I know I wasn’t crazy!<br />
<br />
All of a sudden the phone starts vibrating. I let it drop out of my hand and stumble backwards.<br />
Curious, yet frightened, I pick up the phone again to check out why it vibrated.<br />
<br />
‘New missed call.’<br />
<br />
‘New voicemail message.’<br />
<br />
Hesitantly, I click the play button and put the phone to my ear. My heart skips a beat when I hear the voice of the person through the speaker.<br />
<br />
As I reach the end of the message, I hear the basement door getting locked from above. I quickly run back up the stairs. At the top of the stairs I try pushing open the door, but it’s stuck. I only just notice now that there’s an item pinned on the door. I take it off and look at it, illuminating it with the light of my phone.<br />
<br />
It’s a picture of me, a picture of 10 years ago. The picture of me in front of the car, the picture that Jimmy took of me and Samantha before going into the house… However there’s no trace of her on the picture…<br />
<br />
Suddenly I hear a faint whisper rushing through the room and I don’t dare to move anymore… The words from the voicemail message still echo around in my head and blend in with the whisper that’s rushing through the air. I start bashing and kicking the door to try and open it, but the door doesn’t budge. I turn around to see if there’s another exit, but there isn’t. I turn around again to try and break through the door, but... where’s the door?<br />
<br />
I understand now. This is what she did to Jimmy. And this is what will happen to me…<br />
<br />
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
From: Unknown<br />
Dated: 14-11-2020<br />
Picked up: No.<br />
Voicemail message left.<br />
Message duration: 57 seconds<br />
<br />
“Hi Simon, it’s Samantha. I told you I would provide you with some good material to write about. So why didn’t you write? This was such a good story. I was waiting for you to spread the word about the house… You needed to bring me new victims, just by doing what you do best. Writing, being a journalist, making people visit the house. I can’t keep doing all the work myself. I already did that 10 years ago when I posted the story online… You were supposed to tell the world about me…<br />
I think I’ve waited long enough for a new victim though. I’m done waiting. You will be my next target. And it will be your house that the next journalist will visit.”Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-368077552205503600.post-26305129020160646472015-03-02T13:49:00.000+01:002015-03-02T15:11:24.433+01:00The revolving door<h2 style="text-align: center;">
The revolving door<br />Date written: June 2014</h2>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red;">-I-</span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
I’m looking at myself in the mirror, not really realizing how bad I look. My skin looks extremely pale and I got dark bags under my eyes. What on earth happened to me? I’ve been leaning forward, clenching my hands around the sink. I don’t really know how long I’ve been standing here. I don’t even know where I am exactly. My mind has been empty for days.<br />
<br />
Well I’m in a hotel, that much I know. But I have no clue of why I went here. Why did I leave home?<br />
I look away from the mirror, down into the sink. There’s a distinctive smell of metal in the small bathroom area. It looks like the sink hasn’t been cleaned in a while, on account of the dust that’s in it. I open the tap to wash away some of it. The water starts running slowly, it makes a nice relaxing sound. I close my eyes and listen to the flow of the water.<br />
<br />
My hands… they were red. I open my eyes again and turn my gaze towards my hands. Strange. What is that? Blood? How did I get blood on my hands? At least that explains the smell. I put my hands under the water flow and start scrubbing.<br />
<br />
I turn off the water tap and leave the bathroom area. My hotel room isn’t a luxury suite. As a matter of fact, it’s far from luxurious. The walls are cracked, the paint is peeling off and there’s mold in the corners of the room. I sit on the bed that hasn’t been made and bury my face in my hands. What has a man done to end up in a shithole like this, I wonder.<br />
<br />
I can hear voices.<br />
<br />
No, not in a crazy way of course. The walls aren’t very thick, so it’s very likely that I can hear the neighboring guests of the hotel. I try to hear what they’re saying.<br />
<br />
‘Are you listening to me?’<br />
<br />
‘What do you think?’<br />
<br />
‘…not responding…’<br />
<br />
‘Why not?’<br />
<br />
‘It’s just not working.’<br />
<br />
‘…not even there.’<br />
<br />
The voices sound muffled. It sounds like an argument, I assume they aren’t satisfied with this hotel. I can’t blame them. But it doesn’t matter anyway. I get up from the bed and walk to the wall to shout that they need to quiet down. I listen a little while longer, but the voices have faded. Good.<br />
I think I’ll go to bed, get some sleep and tomorrow I’ll try to freshen up my memory.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"><b>-II-</b></span></div>
<br />
The droning sound of a buzzing phone. It’s one of the worst sounds to wake up to. I put my phone on the night stand next to my bed when I entered the room. I slowly open up my eyes and grab the phone. I pick up and listen to the voice on the other side of the line.<br />
<br />
‘Hello?...’ I say with a broken voice. I keep listening, but nobody is responding. I wait and listen for a minute…<br />
<br />
I look at the screen and only realize now that it was the alarm clock on my phone that caused the buzzing. An alarm clock at 3 AM, what was I thinking? I throw the phone across the room, turn around and try to go back to sleep.<br />
<br />
I’ve been tossing and turning for about an hour. Damn it. I can’t sleep anymore. I get up and sit on the side of my bed. I guess that’s the end of my night. I’ll go outside for a nightly walk then. I get dressed, take my key with me and go outside, locking the door behind me.<br />
<br />
The hallway on the 4th floor is long and dark, there are only a few TL lights illuminating it. At one side is the elevator. The other side turns around a corner towards a flight of stairs. I put my hands inside my pockets and start walking towards the stairs. While I’m walking through the hallway, I take a look at other doors. Most of them have a ‘don’t disturb’ card hanging on the door handle with the guest’s name on it.<br />
<br />
‘Don’t go there!’<br />
<br />
I immediately stop walking just before I turn around the corner. I look behind me to see who shouted at me. It was a woman’s voice. But there’s nobody in the hallway.<br />
<br />
‘Hello? Who’s there?’<br />
<br />
No response. I start walking back in the direction of my room to see if there’s someone hiding in the elevator. I click the button as I arrive and the elevator doors slowly open. I take a peek inside and see that there’s nobody inside. Relieved, I get in the small area and proceed to the ground floor.<br />
<br />
‘You’ll be here for a while.’<br />
<br />
There’s that voice again. I look around panicky to see where it came from, but I can’t see anyone in the elevator with me. Am I going crazy? With a shock, the elevator comes to a stop at the 2nd floor. I’m pressed against the walls, scared to move. The doors slowly open and I’m able to look into the hallway. But once again, the hall is empty. The doors close again and the elevator starts moving. I assure myself that nobody is following me. I probably imagined the voice. It’s about 4 AM right now, so it would be very unlikely that there’s someone still awake, watching me. I calm myself and as soon as the elevator stops at the bottom floor, I quickly get out.<br />
<br />
Finally I see a familiar face. I greet the receptionist as I walk by and he gives me a slight smile, suppressing a surprised look because of my appearance at this time of night.<br />
<br />
‘Just going out for a nightly walk,’ I tell him.<br />
<br />
‘No you’re not,’ he mumbles.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"><b>-III-</b></span></div>
<br />
I look at him surprised, but I keep walking towards the entrance. The hotel has two doors, as most hotels do. There’s a revolving door and a regular one next to it. I’ll just take the revolving door then. As soon as I get close to the door, a sensor picks up my movement and the doors start moving. I get into the first of four openings, which quickly closes behind me. Then it stops moving.<br />
<br />
Great… I push against the window of the door to get it moving again, but I can’t get it to budge. I call out to the receptionist, but he doesn’t notice or hear me. I knock on the window and wave to get his attention but he walks away without even looking into my direction. I’ll just hit the door a bit harder then. I kick against the window, I start hitting the glass, but it doesn’t even move in the slightest, nor does it damage.<br />
<br />
Sigh… I’ll just wait for help to arrive then. Surely in the morning somebody will come. Daylight’s only a few hours away anyway. I get the idea of using my phone to call to the hotel desk, but then I remember I threw it away in my room. I sit down against the glass outer wall, looking at the three other parts of the revolving door. I close my eyes for a little while to make time pass faster. This’ll give me time to think about why I went here.<br />
<br />
It feels like hours passed. I have no idea what time it is. Outside it’s still pitch black, there’s no trace of daylight to be found, but how is that possible? I’ve been here longer than 3 hours, I’m sure of it. I get up to look inside, to see if the receptionist is back already. But he isn’t. I try to push the door again. But it still isn’t moving.<br />
<br />
I put my forehead against the glass and stand there for a little while, when all of a sudden I hear someone breathing softly behind me. I turn around and look straight into a pair of woman’s eyes in the left part of the revolving door. She has her hands pressed against the glass, her eyes are large, almost popping out of her head. Locks of her uncombed greasy blond hair stand up, her lips are chapped and she’s even more pale than I am. Her lips are shivering and it seems like she’s trying to say something. The dimmed light from the background gives her appearance a strange glow.<br />
<br />
Hesitantly, I get the courage to speak.<br />
<br />
‘Excuse me, miss… I’m stuck in here. Could you please help me?’<br />
<br />
Though not surprising, she just keeps staring at me, not responding. Slowly she takes her hands off the glass and points down. She doesn’t take her eyes off me. I turn my head slightly to see what she’s pointing at, but I don’t want to turn around entirely. From the corner of my eye I can see a familiar object on the ground.<br />
<br />
My phone! Cool!<br />
<br />
I bend over to pick it up and look at it. How did that get here? I look up to ask her, but… she’s gone. What the hell was that all about?<br />
<br />
I look down to my phone and I can see that it’s fully charged. Quickly, I dial the number of the hotel desk and wait for someone to pick up. Meanwhile, I see the receptionist returning to the desk and pick up the phone.<br />
<br />
‘Finally,’ I tell him while taking a glance at the parking lot in front of the hotel. ‘Listen, I know this sounds odd, but I’m stuck here at the entrance. Could you help me out please?’<br />
<br />
I wait for his response, but I don’t hear anything. I turn around to look at the desk to signal the man. My heart skips a beat when I see there’s something written on the glass of the door where the woman stood few moments ago. I drop my phone from my hand as I read the giant word written in what appears to be blood.<br />
<br />
<i>Pictures.</i><br />
<br />
Pictures? Through the gaps of the letters I attempt to see the receptionist at the desk. But he isn’t there anymore. Did I really see him then? Of course I did. Someone picked up the phone… or was it her? No, not possible.<br />
<br />
I look at the word again and sit down on the ground to pick up my phone. Perhaps it means the pictures on my phone?<br />
<br />
I open the image folder on my phone and take a look. The folder shows 1 image. It’s a picture of me with a woman in front of a house. In front of us is a small girl playing with her teddy bear. There’s a lot of blur in the picture and I have a hard time identifying the woman next to me. I zoom in on the woman. It’s a pretty woman, that’s for sure. Blond hair, pretty blue eyes and a broad smile. Something is coming back to me.<br />
<br />
With all the confusion and the issues with the door, I completely forgot why I tried to go outside in the first place. Could it be that I left my home because of her? Then why is my head completely empty?<br />
<br />
I look up from my phone and see that the word that was written on the glass is slowly fading…<br />
I know this woman. We were together! I’m pretty sure she was my wife. And yes, we had a daughter together!<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"><b>-IV-</b></span></div>
<br />
It’s been silent for a while now. The excitement from my partially returning memory has faded.<br />
<br />
‘Hello? Jamie? Do you remember? Do you remember what happened?’<br />
<br />
That same voice. Again! I get up and look around to see if there’s anyone around. Maybe it’s the woman I saw earlier who’s calling me. But all the parts of the revolving door are empty. I check out my phone to see if the voice maybe came from there. But no… I’m all alone here. Surely I’m not imagining things!<br />
<br />
‘Shut up!’ I shout out to the voice.<br />
<br />
Dead silence…<br />
<br />
I sit down again, facing the opposite room of the door. I close my eyes and try to convince myself of not being insane.<br />
<br />
‘Mommy doesn’t want you anymore.’<br />
<br />
I open my eyes and see a young girl in front of me. I sit up on my knees and look at the girl.<br />
<br />
‘Hey, I know you,’ I say to her with a smile. The girl doesn’t smile back at me.<br />
<br />
‘Do you remember me, daddy?’ she asks me.<br />
<br />
‘Of course I do, you’re Celine, right?’<br />
<br />
She smiles at me now, revealing her teeth. It’s coming back to me. My daughter, 8 years old. She always liked to wear a white dress, just like she’s doing now. She’s holding her teddy bear with one hand. In the other she’s holding a mobile phone.<br />
<br />
‘Daddy is a bit confused though. Do you know what happened?’ I ask her.<br />
<br />
She nods.<br />
<br />
‘Would you like to tell me?’<br />
<br />
She shrugs.<br />
<br />
‘Hmm? It’s okay to tell me, sweetie.’<br />
<br />
She stands there silently, thinking.<br />
<br />
‘I can’t tell you, daddy…’<br />
<br />
I look at her, thinking of what to say to make her tell me.<br />
<br />
‘…but I can show you if you want.’<br />
<br />
‘What do you mean, you will show me?’<br />
<br />
She laughs. ‘You’re funny daddy. I will show you, okay?’<br />
<br />
I nod to her. She turns around and starts to play with her phone. I stand up and move closer to the glass to see what she’s doing.<br />
<br />
‘No peeking!’ she commands me.<br />
<br />
My phone starts buzzing in my pocket. I take it out and pick up. I see Celine putting her phone to her ear as well.<br />
<br />
‘Hello?’ I say.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"><b>-V-</b></span></div>
<br />
Again, nobody responds to what I say. I don’t have my daughter on the line, I’m sure of that. I look at her while I hold the phone to my ear. She’s looking back at me as well, but she put her phone on the ground. She still holds her teddy bear in her hand. Through the speaker I can hear some murmur, but there’s not someone talking to me directly. Slowly but gradually the murmur is getting louder and I can make out a heated conversation going on. It’s me, arguing… with my wife?<br />
<br />
‘You know what? Maybe I will just leave. I’m fed up with this bullshit!’<br />
<br />
‘It’ll suit you. You always run away from everything anyway!’<br />
<br />
‘Oh please.. what do you want from me?..’<br />
<br />
‘You really want to know?’<br />
<br />
‘Do tell me, yeah.’<br />
<br />
‘I want you to get out of this house! And out of our lives!’<br />
<br />
‘Your lives? If I’m leaving, I’ll take our daughter with me.’<br />
<br />
‘Oh, no you won’t…’<br />
<br />
A third voice appeared.<br />
<br />
‘What’s happening?..’<br />
<br />
‘Celine, go to your room. Mommy and daddy are talking!’<br />
<br />
The conversation suddenly ended, followed by a dead tone. The argument repeats itself in my head. I look at my daughter who was looking at me the entire time I was listening to the phone.<br />
<br />
‘Daddy… that’s not all I wanted to show you.’<br />
<br />
‘What do you mean?’ I ask her.<br />
<br />
‘I want to show you more too. Mommy said I can’t show you because you don’t deserve it. But I won’t tell her if you won’t.’<br />
<br />
‘Please show me… what happened,’ I tell her.<br />
<br />
She doesn’t respond to me, yet she doesn’t take her eyes off me. I look straight into her eyes and see that they start tearing up. I try to say something as soon as a tear rolls out, but I can’t find any words. I’m looking at the tear, which rolls down her cheek, down her neck and onto her dress. On her dress several red spots are appearing. Red spots which are slowly growing…<br />
<br />
‘It hurts…’ she says.<br />
<br />
The bloodstains slowly grow. I can see my daughter struggling to stay on her legs. My eyes start tearing up. I can’t do anything about it. I try to smash the windows around me, try to bash through the corner of the revolving door, but it’s no use. I want to hold her in my arms.<br />
<br />
‘You wanted me to show it to you…’ she says to me as she drops down on the ground.<br />
<br />
I drop down on my knees, in tears to see what’s happening to my daughter. I close my eyes and put my head to the ground. My daughter...<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"><b>-VI-</b></span></div>
<br />
I shouldn’t have made her suffer like that. Definitely not a second time. The argument, it had to do something with her death. But what really happened?..<br />
<br />
I’m not sure anymore what is real and what isn’t. I’m stuck inside this door, that’s for sure. However, this door is unusually strong and withstands everything I throw at it. But then I just saw my daughter. But was that actually happening? Was I hallucinating? No… I couldn’t be. So many things have happened in such a short time…<br />
<br />
‘Do you remember your daughter?’<br />
<br />
There it is again! That voice! That voice of which the source is missing…<br />
<br />
‘My daughter died!’ I shout to the voice. I know it’s insane to be talking to a voice that might or might not exist. But it’s taunting me… Obviously it too has seen what has happened just now.<br />
<br />
‘What do you remember exactly?’<br />
<br />
‘She’s dead. And I’m stuck here. I can’t do anything about it.’<br />
<br />
I get back on my feet and start pacing around. This door I’m trapped in. It must have something to do with my family. What am I missing… Surely the voice of the woman can explain something.<br />
<br />
‘Hello? Are you there?’ I ask.<br />
<br />
No response. I look outside to see if there’s a sign of at least a shimmer of daylight. There’s still only darkness to see. However in the distance a small light appears. It looks like the headlights of a car driving towards the hotel. Can it be? Slowly but gradually the lights get closer. I can see the shape of a car turning and parking in front of the building, the beams of light are still pointing towards the door. A person gets out of the car.<br />
<br />
The silhouette appears to be moving towards the trunk of the car. I can’t see what’s happening on the back of the car, but after a little while the person starts walking towards the entrance, carrying something. I put my hands on the glass, trying to identify the individual. The silhouette gets clearer and I know that I’m looking at a woman now judging by her hair. She’s holding something in a blanket. A few meters from the door, she stops walking and I assume she’s looking right at me.<br />
<br />
‘Jamie?’ the woman says.<br />
<br />
Frightened, I back away from the window.<br />
<br />
‘Who are you? Come closer so I can see who you are. Please…’<br />
<br />
The woman does as I ask. She walks towards the glass and puts down the object she’s carrying.<br />
<br />
‘It’s me, Jamie.’<br />
<br />
I also approach the glass to look at her.<br />
<br />
‘Sally, what are you doing here? Call the police, call an ambulance. Our daughter is dead!’ I say to her while pointing at Celine.<br />
<br />
She doesn’t respond to me. Instead, she bends over and opens the blanket she was carrying. I watch her slowly unfold it. She picks up the object and holds it with both hands, showing it as if it’s a holy relic. The knife shows Sally’s reflection through the dried up blood.<br />
<br />
‘You remember this? I do…’ she says.<br />
<br />
‘I don’t. But I heard our argument over the phone,’ I reply.<br />
<br />
She doesn’t respond once again. Instead she looks to the other part of the revolving door where our daughter lies.<br />
<br />
‘Our angel. She didn’t deserve this. And neither did I,’ she speaks without looking at me.<br />
<br />
She looks at me now. She drops the knife and takes her phone out of her pocket, dialing a number.<br />
My phone starts ringing now. I turn around, put my ear to the phone and listen…<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"><b>-VII-</b></span></div>
<br />
‘What’s going on?..’<br />
<br />
‘Celine, go to your room. Mommy and daddy are talking!’<br />
<br />
‘Why are you holding a knife?’<br />
<br />
‘What? Put that away…’<br />
<br />
‘Daddy, stop it!’<br />
<br />
‘Shut up child, get out of the way and go to your room!’<br />
<br />
‘Jamie, drop the knife now.’<br />
<br />
‘Jamie… please. Don’t do this.’<br />
<br />
‘Daddy!!!’<br />
<br />
‘But this is what you wanted, isn’t it? Me separated from you and Celine? Well if I can’t have her, then you can’t either!’<br />
<br />
‘No!’<br />
<br />
I can hear objects being thrown around the room, people shouting… until the dead tone appears again. I take the phone off my ear and turn towards my wife who dropped her phone on the ground. I’m not looking at the same woman anymore. She turned into the woman I saw on the other side of the door, the woman I saw first. I didn’t recognize her before, but now I do. She raises her arm and points to behind me. I turn around and look at the words that appeared in blood on the glass.<br />
<br />
<i>You did this…</i><br />
<br />
What did I do… I turn back to look at her and I see her clothes are slowly turning bloody as well. I can only stand there and watch what’s happening. I killed my wife? I killed my child in a fit of insanity?<br />
<br />
I drop down on the ground with my hands covering my head. It all makes sense now. I did this. I’m a killer.<br />
<br />
I spent what felt like an eternity in that room on the ground, disgusted by my own being. I get on my feet and look at the opening of the revolving door, which is right in front of me. I’m not trapped anymore! I can walk straight towards the elevator towards my room. I feel the urge to go to my room. I don’t even want to leave the hotel anymore. While I’m walking towards the elevator, I hear a familiar voice.<br />
<br />
‘Let’s get you back to your room, shall we?’<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"><b>-VIII-</b></span></div>
<br />
The officer, clouded by a troubled mind, enters the building after a 3 hour drive. He checks in his gun and badge at the entrance.<br />
<br />
‘Please take a seat over there,’ the receptionist says.<br />
<br />
The officer, wearing a casual stylish blouse and jeans with white sneakers, does as he’s requested. After a 15 minute wait, he is approached by a woman wearing a long white coat.<br />
<br />
‘Officer Martin?’ she asks.<br />
<br />
‘Yes, that’s me. You must be Dr. Colton,’ he replies.<br />
<br />
‘Please, call me Alice. If you’d follow me. I understand you were closely involved with this case?’ Alice says as they’re walking through the long corridor.<br />
<br />
The officer replies: ‘Yes. Well… kind of. To be honest, I’m here on family reasons. You see… the victims who were murdered, were my sister and my niece.’<br />
<br />
‘I understand. Normally we don’t allow insights into our patients, but in this case I can make an exception. Just keep it on the down-low please.’<br />
<br />
‘My lips are sealed.’<br />
<br />
The two arrive at an office, at the end of the hallway. They enter. The officer looks around to see what’s in the room. The room looks very messy. There’s paper scattered all over the places, several cabinets are opened and there’s dust on the shelves where diplomas, photos and other objects are kept.<br />
<br />
‘I’m sorry for the mess. I was looking for the documents you required and I made a bit of a mess I’m afraid…’<br />
<br />
‘That’s okay, I know how bad paperwork can get,’ the officer replies with a smile.<br />
<br />
‘Now then. The patient. So I’ll explain the way we work around here. What we do is we keep audio logs of every day we treat a patient. We start off by picking up the patient, then taking him to a room where we try talking to him. Now this patient is a very peculiar case. We know what happened, all the evidence was there. However… this man isn’t healthy on a whole different level,’ the doctor explains.<br />
<br />
‘I’m afraid you lost me there,’ he says.<br />
<br />
‘I think that when I let you listen to our audio logs, it’ll be much clearer for you.’<br />
<br />
The doctor takes a USB flash drive from his desk and plugs it into the computer on his desk.<br />
<br />
‘I took the liberty of compiling the most useful excerpts from the whole therapy session for you on this drive,’ Alice says before she plays the audio files.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"><b>-IX-</b></span></div>
<br />
<u><b>Audio log day 1. Patient: Jamie Garth</b></u><br />
<br />
Dr Colton: Patient’s name is Jamie Garth. Garth was admitted to the hospital three days ago. Declared insane. He was accused and found guilty of slaying his wife and daughter. He was found in a hotel room, rambling and mumbling to himself. Tomorrow I’ll try to talk to the patient in his room to find out more about him. I had the opportunity to see the patient while he was being escorted to his chamber. He doesn’t seem to respond to anyone or anything except himself.<br />
<br />
<u><b><br /></b></u>
<u><b>Audio log day 2. Patient: Jamie Garth</b></u><br />
<br />
Dr. Colton: Day number 2. This is Dr. Colton, accompanied with my assistant, Dr. Landon. Today we’ll have our first contact with the patient. Continuing log at the patient’s room.<br />
<br />
----------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
Dr. Colton: I’m in the patient’s room now. Doctor Landon will follow shortly. The patient has been standing in front of his mirror for a while now. He doesn’t see or hear us. I’ll keep observing him.<br />
<br />
Dr. Colton: Patient has moved to his bed. He shows signs of depression. Trying another attempt at making contact.<br />
<br />
Dr. Colton: Jamie? Are you listening to me? Can you hear me?<br />
<br />
----------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
Dr. Landon: Making any progress?<br />
<br />
Dr. Colton: Not really, no. I’m trying to talk to him, but it’s like he looks right through me. He doesn’t even notice me being here.<br />
<br />
Dr. Landon: What do you think is wrong with him?<br />
<br />
Dr. Colton: No idea… he’s just not responding to anything.<br />
<br />
Dr. Landon: Why not?<br />
<br />
Dr. Colton: I haven’t figured that out yet. All I know is that mentally he’s not even there.<br />
<br />
Jamie: Quiet down!<br />
<br />
----------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
Dr. Colton: It does seem he is aware of people somehow. But it’s not this world he’s actively living in. We’ll continue tomorrow when we’ll take him to the therapy room.<br />
<br />
<u><b><br /></b></u>
<u><b>Audio log day 3. Patient: Jamie Garth</b></u><br />
<br />
Dr. Colton: Going to pick up the patient. Entering the room now. On my own today.<br />
<br />
Jamie: Hello?<br />
<br />
Dr. Colton: The patient is aware of his surroundings. I want to see if he’s able to walk around the hospital. Just to see if he does recognize physical areas beyond his own mindset.<br />
<br />
----------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
Dr. Colton: Patient is getting dressed and walks outside into the hallway. He’s walking down the hall, looking at other patient’s doors. He doesn’t show any interest to disturb them.<br />
<br />
Dr. Colton: Don’t go there!<br />
<br />
Dr. Colton: Patient stops and looks around. I think he heard me that time. Selective hearing maybe?<br />
<br />
Jamie: Hello? Who’s there?!<br />
<br />
Dr. Colton: The patient is looking straight through me again. I’m going to escort him to the therapy chamber. The patient doesn’t seem to instantly be able to find his way to the elevator.<br />
<br />
----------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
Dr. Colton: Don’t worry, you’ll learn your way around this place soon enough. You’ll be here for a while anyway.<br />
<br />
Dr. Colton: The patient appears to be afraid of my voice. He’s looking around panicky.<br />
<br />
----------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
Jamie: Just going out for a nightly walk.<br />
<br />
Dr. Colton: No you’re not, Jamie. Just come with me.<br />
<br />
<u><b><br /></b></u>
<u><b>Audio log day 4. Patient: Jamie Garth</b></u><br />
<br />
Dr. Colton: We’ve kept the patient in the therapy room for a while. The patient seems to be trapped in his own world. He’s asking people for help and tries to talk to people to help get him out. At this point, it appears he has no memory of what happened to him. Attempting another interaction.<br />
<br />
Dr. Colton: Hello? Jamie? Do you remember? Do you remember what happened?<br />
<br />
Jamie: Shut up!<br />
<br />
Dr. Colton: Interesting.<br />
<br />
<u><b><br /></b></u>
<u><b>Audio log day 5. Patient: Jamie Garth</b></u><br />
<br />
Dr. Colton: Something just happened. Garth is talking to someone, his daughter probably. This means that he is trying to remember what happened. He’s visualizing the past to help him figure things out. Interesting. I wonder how accurate his visualizations are.<br />
<br />
Jamie: What do you mean, you will show me?<br />
<br />
Jamie: Please show me… what happened.<br />
<br />
----------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
Dr. Colton: The patient has been silent for a while now, he seems to have become desperate. Judging from what he said, I assume he found out that something happened to his daughter.<br />
<br />
<u><b><br /></b></u>
<u><b>Audio log day 6. Patient: Jamie Garth</b></u><br />
<u><br /></u>
Dr. Colton: A new day. We’re going to see if the patient has retrieved some of his memory.<br />
<br />
Dr. Landon: You will do the talking then, I assume.<br />
<br />
----------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
Dr. Colton: Hello Jamie, you spoke to your daughter yesterday, didn’t you? Do you remember your daughter? Do you remember your wife?<br />
<br />
Jamie: My daughter died!<br />
<br />
Dr. Landon: So he is remembering some things.<br />
<br />
Dr. Colton: What do you remember exactly?<br />
<br />
Jamie: She’s dead. And I’m stuck here. I can’t do anything about it.<br />
<br />
Dr. Colton: You hear that? His memory is getting clearer. But not entirely yet. Part of his confused state the police found him in.<br />
<br />
Jamie: Hello? Are you there?<br />
<br />
Dr. Landon: Let’s take this step by step. Best continue tomorrow, don’t you think?<br />
<br />
<u><b><br /></b></u>
<u><b>Audio log day 7. Patient: Jamie Garth</b></u><br />
<u><b><br /></b></u>
Dr. Colton: We’re witnessing something interesting today. Garth appears to be interacting with his wife. He’s pacing around the room, looking frightened, confused.<br />
<br />
Jamie: Call the police, call an ambulance. Our daughter is dead!<br />
<br />
Dr. Colton: The patient still hasn’t figured out the facts regarding his daughter. Wait. Something is happening. He lies on the ground now. All interaction seems to have faded away. He’s mumbling that he doesn’t deserve to live. Perhaps his memory did return after all. Best take him to his own room.<br />
<br />
Dr. Colton: Come on, Jamie, on your feet. Let’s get you back to your room, shall we?<br />
<br />
<b><u><br /></u></b>
<b><u>Audio log day 10. Patient: Jamie Garth</u></b><br />
<b><u><br /></u></b>
Dr. Colton: No signs of improvement. The patient keeps repeating his own actions over and over. He doesn’t seem to have any indication of time and place.<br />
<br />
<b><u><br /></u></b>
<b><u>Audio log day 19. Patient: Jamie Garth</u></b><br />
<br />
Dr. Colton: I’ve now spent 18 days trying to get through to him. But it’s no use. The patient relives the same experience over and over again. He still thinks he’s trapped somewhere. He doesn’t realize he’s stuck in his own head. We call this the revolving door effect. The patient gets into an imaginary revolving door. He wants to go straight out, but his own mind doesn’t let him. As soon as he thinks the experience is over and he can reach the outside, the mental door puts him right back in.<br />
His lack of memory, combined with an overwhelming feeling of guilt, doesn’t allow him to leave that circle of despair and move on. Each part of that revolving door shows him things that happened. From what I and dr. Landon could gather, is that he clearly remembers his daughter and wife, finding out along the way that he murdered them.<br />
<br />
This cycle has repeated itself 3 times now. It’s unclear to us if he will ever break the cycle and manage to leave the revolving door. We’ll try to talk to him a few more times, but if there aren’t any signs of change, I’m afraid we’ll have to put the sessions to an end and search for different approaches to solve the problem.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red;">-X-</span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
The recording stops. A few minutes have passed and the doctor and the officer have been listening to it quietly.<br />
<br />
‘The revolving door effect, huh…’ the officer says.<br />
<br />
‘That’s what we like to call it, yes.’<br />
<br />
‘So what will happen to Garth when the therapy sessions are over?’<br />
<br />
The doctor puts her hands behind her head.<br />
<br />
‘In cases like this we either let the patient live in his room, live out his life. Or we try to find different methods. Perhaps after a while he will snap out of his delusional state himself. But we highly doubt that will ever happen.’<br />
<br />
‘I see. I still wonder what could possibly drive a man this far into madness.’<br />
<br />
‘Don’t we all,’ the doctor replies, ‘but that’s what we’re trying to figure out with our therapy sessions. Anyway, I hope I helped you out. Perhaps you’ll be able to have some closure now.’<br />
<br />
‘I really appreciate your help. Thank you for that,’ the officer says as he gets up to shake the doctor’s hand.<br />
<br />
‘Don’t mention it,’ she says. ‘If you’ll excuse me now, I have a session with another patient in a little while. I’m sure you can find your way out.’<br />
<br />
The officer nods with a smile and leaves the office. He walks back towards the entrance desk to pick up his stuff and proceeds to the exit. Before leaving, he stops and takes a look at the revolving door that’s in front of him. Slowly he exits the building, deciding that he’d rather use the regular door next to it.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-368077552205503600.post-9971701501334680282015-03-02T12:02:00.006+01:002016-06-24T20:08:42.614+02:00Death dreams<div style="text-align: center;">
<h2>
Death dreams<br />Date written: september 2013</h2>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"><b>-I-</b></span><br />
<span style="color: red;"><b><br /></b></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl8197ixNmJioyUBKGOFQQe6g1oCT6XiML522H1GniPARdsQC0J5Oao73UHry4CLAT568x-Hz_QsD9r5VhgeoHF5AtcFL-PYpbwg-tf53G86wkwOGJ_tb2syLFGGs91fwgKnFGJPSoH0w/s1600/Untitled-3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="350" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl8197ixNmJioyUBKGOFQQe6g1oCT6XiML522H1GniPARdsQC0J5Oao73UHry4CLAT568x-Hz_QsD9r5VhgeoHF5AtcFL-PYpbwg-tf53G86wkwOGJ_tb2syLFGGs91fwgKnFGJPSoH0w/s640/Untitled-3.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="color: red;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<br />
I wish these birds would shut up. I’m trying to sleep… What time is it? The sun seems so bright. Did I forget to close the sunshades last night?<br />
<br />
…birds? I’ve never heard birds around my apartment before. There are no birds in the inner city. I slowly open my eyes, trying to search for the ceiling. There is no ceiling… Damn, everything is so hazy. I can barely see anything. I reach for my nightstand to pick up my glasses. I grab and miss. No nightstand? I’m starting to feel that I’m not in my own apartment right now. How could that be though…? I can clearly remember going to bed last night.<br />
<br />
I sit up and push the covers off me. There are no covers either. I’m starting to panic a little. Did I sleep here? Where’s here? Where am I?<br />
<br />
The haze is still in front of my eyes, as if there’s a cloud of fumes surrounding me, with the sun slightly glaring through it. It’s not mist. It’s the kind of haze that would hang in front of your eyes when you’ve been out relaxing in the sun with your eyes closed for too long. Have I slept that long? Is it afternoon already? The air feels damp and it’s definitely not cold out here.<br />
<br />
I reach for my eyes to rub the sleep out of them, but I hit something hard. My glasses… I have had them on this entire time. But why is my vision so blurry still? I slowly get up on my feet and look around. Nothing. I can’t see further than 3 meters. I feel I need to explore and find out where I am, but walking around without eyesight could be dangerous.<br />
<br />
My chest burns… I put my hand on my chest, but can’t feel any abnormalities. Yet with every move I make, an antagonizing pain moves through my heart. What on earth happened to me?<br />
I look down and notice that there are leaves and twigs on the ground. I crouch to feel the earth. It’s warm, probably heated up by the sun. The birds above me are still singing. I get the feeling I’m in a forest. Perhaps there are people around.<br />
<br />
‘Hello? Is anyone there?!’ I shout.<br />
<br />
Or at least I try to shout, but there’s no noise coming out of my mouth. Everything in what I assume is a forest just went silent. The birds stopped singing and the leaves and twigs on the ground stop cracking as I step on them. What’s going on here…? I sit back down and try to think things through.<br />
The silence is droning, the only thing I can hear is the thud of my own heartbeat. I lay down, my arms supporting my head. I never experienced a silence like this. I try to focus on what’s happening, but slowly I’m dozing off…<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"><b>-II-</b></span></div>
<br />
‘Goddammit!’ My bed is soaked as I wake up screaming. What the hell was that all about? I look at the clock on my nightstand. Tuesday, 10 AM… Great, I’m late for work. I get out of bed, freshen up and go outside. It’s cold outside, maybe 8 degrees max. I’d better call my boss to tell him that I’m on my way.<br />
<br />
I arrive at work at 11:30 AM. The boss wasn’t happy and I was to come to his office as soon as I arrived. Walking through the entrance hall, the receptionist smiles at me and says: ‘Are you okay? You look kind of pale. Are you sick?’<br />
<br />
At this point I really don't feel like talking to her and I reply with a mere: ‘Rough night, don’t get me started.’<br />
<br />
‘Come in!’ the man yells from behind the office door. I walk in and see my boss sitting in his chair that is about to collapse under his weight. The man is very unhealthy and has trouble walking. He basically never comes out of his office during work hours and leads the whole firm from that poor chair.<br />
<br />
‘Sit down. We need to have a talk,’ he says.<br />
<br />
‘It’s the third time in these two weeks that you show up late for work. And you know these are very busy weeks. We’re at the point of almost closing the biggest deal this company has ever seen. You should know this. You are one of the people that got us this close, and I know you don’t want to mess this up now, do you?’<br />
<br />
‘No sir.’<br />
<br />
‘Care to explain why you’ve been slacking off this much lately? Is it stress? Personal life? For crying out loud, if something is wrong with my best employee, I want and need to know.’<br />
<br />
I want to tell him of course about the nightmare I had today. Not to mention other strange dreams in the past that made me sleep through my alarm clock. It’s not stress related, that’s for sure. But I feel weird telling about the nightmares that I’ve been having. Especially the one from tonight. After all, it’s just a dream isn’t it?<br />
<br />
‘It’s a bit of stress, sir. I can’t help but feel pressured by what’s going to happen these weeks, you know? But I’ll be fine.’<br />
<br />
He looks at me for a few seconds and asks me: ‘Stress huh… You sure that’s all that’s bothering you? There isn’t anything else I need to know?’<br />
<br />
‘It’s just stress, sir. Really, I’ll be fine. And I’ll get my act together, I promise.’<br />
Jeez… How about you worry about yourself first. You’re the one incapable of walking and are under heavy medication. Everyone has his own troubles, not just me. I can’t even remember what this big deal is about.<br />
<br />
‘Alright, good talk,’ he says while smacking his hand on the desk. ‘You can go now. And could you do me a favor and throw away this paper can for me, please? I can’t really throw it in the dustbin way over there. You know, with my back and all.’<br />
<br />
‘Sure.’ I say.<br />
<br />
A little exercise won’t hurt you though. At least it will give that chair some rest. But I’ll keep that thought to myself. Very well, on with the day.<br />
<br />
It’s 1 pm, most of my colleagues are at lunch. I haven’t been able to concentrate much on work. I spent most of my time researching dreams and their meaning. I came across a website owned by a doctor who is an expert in explaining dreams. Doctor, yeah right. But who knows, maybe he can help. I want to get more information about these weird dreams I’m having. I’ll see what happens the rest of the week.<br />
<br />
3 pm. I’m bored. I want to go home and watch TV. I don’t understand what all my colleagues are working on. Why do they take so much time to finish their work, while they could do it in two hours max.<br />
<br />
5 pm. I’m going home. I don’t feel like talking to the rest of my colleagues about whatever pops into their heads.<br />
<br />
8 pm. Even though I slept in yesterday, I feel tired as hell. TV is pretty boring and I almost fell asleep a couple of times. I’ll just go to bed and see what’s going to happen tomorrow. I take off my glasses and put them on my nightstand, next to the phone number of the doctor.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"><b>-III-</b></span></div>
<br />
Darkness surrounds me as I open my eyes. I look to my right to check out the time. 2 AM… I feel wide awake. I might as well go to the kitchen to get a glass of water. I get up and walk to my bedroom door. It’s pitch black and I don’t have my glasses on. Maybe I should get them first. I walk back to my bed and sit down to get my glasses off my nightstand. A sudden shock goes through my body as I fall through the air on the cold floor. I reach around, trying to find my bed or something to hold on to, but can’t find it. Damn…<br />
<br />
Have I forgotten where my bed is? I get up and walk around, trying to find the walls of my room, trying to find the light switch, my arms reaching out in front of me, hoping to touch something solid.<br />
<br />
Nothing.<br />
<br />
I try to get my eyes adjusted to the darkness and attempt to find some landmarks which indicate where in my room I am now. Unless…<br />
<br />
No… not again.<br />
<br />
I didn’t realize it earlier, but the environment has been silent. I can feel objects cracking under my feet, but I can’t hear anything. It’s as silent as I remember it from last time.<br />
<br />
‘Hello!? Anyone there?!’ I shout. But words don’t come out. It feels like some sort of shadow is lurking around, trying to capture my every sound to swiftly blend it in with the silence. I want to start running, I want to try and find something to hold on to, but my senses tell me not to. I sit down on the ground and try to calm myself down. It’s just a dream, just a dream...<br />
<br />
I feel something as I sit down. There’s something in my back pocket. I reach for it and take the content out. Hmm… Feels like a key chain. It has a button. A light! It’s a small flashlight! I click the button and a small light turns on. It’s not much, but it’s enough to see in a radius of a meter. I get on my feet again and look around. Darkness. There’s nothing but darkness at the end of my light stream.<br />
<br />
Fuck!.. Oh no…<br />
<br />
There’s that pain again, burning in my chest, so painful that I can’t stay on my legs. The pain is excruciating, so bad that my whole body starts contracting. I can’t help but scream, let out a sound as loud as I can.<br />
<br />
Suddenly I hear a seemingly distant thump and just like that, there’s sound all around me again, as if my scream cut through the wall of silence. There’s wind blowing, murmur of voices and I can even make out some gunshot sounds. The sudden orchestra of sound is so loud that I have to cover my ears to protect them. I get up, shivering from the pain going through my chest, trying to look around.<br />
<br />
There’s something in the distance. A light. A moving light, slowly, but gradually getting closer. With my hands covering my ears, I struggle towards the light. As I come closer, the light stops moving. I increase my pace and start walking faster. I shout to the light, hoping for a response from something or someone. I get closer and closer and the light gets bigger and bigger. The wind is almost blowing me off my feet as I try to make out what’s holding the source of light. I stop moving and call out to the light source, searching for my breath at the same time.<br />
<br />
‘Hey… Help me… please,’ is what I say to the thing. I hesitate with getting closer after I get no response.<br />
<br />
Suddenly the light weakens and as it does so, the sounds of the environment decrease in volume as well. I take my hands off my ears and stare at the light for a little while. I see the light slowly getting less bright, until there’s almost nothing left. At that point I run towards it, knowing that it might be my only chance of help in this place. One hand on my chest, the other one stretching forward I reach for the light, but as soon as I’m a meter away from it, I hear a thump and the light falls down on the ground.<br />
<br />
I hesitate for a second… But then I pick up the light source and look at it. It’s an old fashioned oil lamp, with a valve to brighten up the light… I open the valve so I’d be able to see more. I look down and see the radius of the light beam expanding. The light beam sheds its light on something. On someone.<br />
<br />
As I increase the light beam, the environment gets louder again. The sound is painfully loud now and I move closer towards the body to see what’s going on. On the ground lays a man. His hands are bloody, his clothes are ripped… I move the light further up and see that his torso is full of blood. I move the light so I’d be able to see his face.<br />
<br />
This can’t be. What happened here? The image of the hurt man shocks me so badly that I can’t see anything for a moment. I stumble backwards and after a few steps my whole body goes numb and without knowing, I drop the light, thus killing the flame, making the environment pitch black again. The sounds of the environment however, don’t fade. On the contrary, they get even louder.<br />
<br />
I panic and cover my ears again as I regain control over my body and I start to run away, far away from the body. My chest is still burning, but I’m ignoring the pain. I need to get out of here, need to get away. I sprint as hard as I can for what feels like minutes. Suddenly my left foot gets stuck and I fall over, face first on the ground. Woozy from the fall, I stumble to get up, but don’t succeed.<br />
‘Stop talking. Go somewhere else. It’s not safe here.’<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"><b>-IV-</b></span></div>
<br />
I opened my eyes after what felt like days… months even. I don't realize that I’ve been staring at the ceiling for god knows how long. I move myself up quickly and disoriented, I rub my eyes before looking around.<br />
<br />
I’m in my bedroom. What time is it? What day is it? I glance at the clock next to me on my nightstand. Wednesday, 7AM.<br />
<br />
I get up and walk through my house. I can’t believe that it’s not even been a day since the last memory I had of me going to sleep. I walk to the front door and pick up the newspaper that’s shoved into my mailbox. Indeed… it’s just the next day. How come I feel so weird then? Whatever. I guess I’ll go to work early today.<br />
<br />
The streets are deserted. I’ve never driven to work this early before. It’s nice though, no traffic jams or anything. Every now and then you can see a pedestrian walking around, probably doing his morning routine. I like speculating what people do on a day. I see them walking and wonder… what is he going to do today? Work? Vacation?<br />
<br />
I shouldn’t let my mind drift off now. Not while driving. But at least it keeps thoughts of what’s been happening the past nights away.<br />
<br />
‘Morning Hank!’ I say to the janitor when I walk into the building.<br />
<br />
‘Morning.’ He mumbles back. Poor Hank, always grumpy. At least I’m not the only one who isn’t having the best days ever.<br />
<br />
I walk through the office, not sure what to do at this time. I know that if I’d start working now, I’ll be done around 11 AM, and would have to kill 6 hours doing nothing. So I’m just wandering in between the cubicles, looking at people’s workspaces. After two rounds of wandering, I notice something big and heavy moving through the building. And sure enough, a moment later I see my boss driving to his office in his new modified handicap scooter. I wave at him, but he doesn’t see me. He looks different from normal. Not as upbeat as usual, and he seems to be lost in his own thoughts.<br />
I want to walk to him for a chat, but that would mean I’d have to start working right after that. Hmm… thank god he didn’t see me wave. Silly me. I’ll step by his office later today. For now, I’ll just go and chill in this cubicle. I lay on the ground and close my eyes for a few minutes. Damn, I’m exhausted.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"><b>-V-</b></span></div>
<br />
There are the birds again. They’re whistling. I like birds, but not when I’m trying to get some rest. I open my eyes and get up to see if I can scare them away somehow.<br />
<br />
Huh… birds in an office? That’s funny.<br />
<br />
As soon as I move my head above the cubicle walls to look around, the walls collapse outward, the ceiling fades away and just like that, I’m back in the forest again. Even though this area frightened me before, for some reason it doesn’t scare me that much this time. I can see. I can hear things, nice things. Birds whistling, the wind gently blowing through the leaves of the large trees that surround me, some animal sounds and crickets chirping. I look around to see what place I’ve been spending my nights in. I notice I’m standing in the middle of an open area, surrounded by trees. I can’t see the sun, since it’s shaded by the leaves and arms of the big trees. There are some small rays of sunlight glaring through the green ceiling. It looks nice.<br />
<br />
I think I’m ready to explore. I start walking forward, only to bump my nose into something.<br />
What the hell is this? Some kind of invisible wall? I can’t even move more than two meters forward. I move my hand in front of me and notice that my palm turns flat in the air. This is weird… I can’t feel anything solid… Yet it appears there’s something blocking me. I move myself a couple of meters backwards and feel another invisible wall against my back. What’s going on here?<br />
<br />
I panic a little bit and turn around again to walk the other way, only to be stopped after an even shorter distance. I turn around again to feel the distance of the other wall and feel that it came closer too. Panicky, I start walking to the side, only to be stopped there too. I turn around to try the other side. Maybe there’s an exit somewhere. But with every step I take, with every turn I make, I get closed in more and more. The invisible walls press harder, until I can’t move anymore. I’m stuck.<br />
I can’t move anymore. I can hardly breathe now. With every subtle move I make, I can feel the walls press harder against my body. Dammit! I don’t like small spaces! I can’t stay in here. Wake up please… wake up! Someone help me!<br />
<br />
Suddenly I hear a faint whistle. It’s coming from above. With the last muscle I can move, I look up and see a dot in the air, something falling as it appears. The dot is getting larger every second and I can even start to make out what the item is. It’s a rectangular shaped object, a metal case of some kind.<br />
<br />
I try to move my arms to shield my head but I can’t move them. The walls are really squishing my body now and I can’t breathe anymore. My lungs are on fire… This hurts, this really hurts. I can’t do anything but close my eyes and wait for the thud of the case falling on my head.<br />
<br />
*Thud*<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"><b>-VI-</b></span></div>
<br />
‘I’m stuck!!!’<br />
I yell out. I open my eyes and notice that half of the office gathered around the cubicle to see what the hell was going on. Even my boss came driving around to investigate.<br />
<br />
‘Alright everybody, that’s enough. Back to work. Don’t you guys ever have nightmares? Come on. Chop-chop, move it!’ my boss says.<br />
<br />
Reluctantly, all my colleagues walk back to their stations. My boss looks at me and is obviously puzzled.<br />
<br />
‘In my office. Now.’<br />
<br />
I get up and follow him to his office, ignoring the stares of my colleagues.<br />
<br />
‘Close the door behind you.’ he says. I sit down at his desk and look him in the eyes.<br />
<br />
‘Before you say anything…’ I start saying, only to be interrupted by him.<br />
<br />
‘Stop it. Just… shut up and listen, okay? I asked you before if there was something I should know about. You said there wasn’t anything important going on. Then you come to my office, looking like some kind of ghost and start causing scenes like that? You’re really getting on my nerves!’<br />
His face swells up as he speaks and I can’t help but look at the veins that start popping out of his forehead. Yeah… he’s angry.<br />
<br />
‘And I’m going to ask you again. I want full honesty here and I will not ask it again. If you don’t give me a decent answer, an answer I can do something with, I’m going to have to schedule an appointment with the company’s therapist to have a chat with you.’<br />
<br />
He stops talking and engages in a raging cough mode, making his face swell up even more.<br />
<br />
‘I… I don’t know what to say, sir…’ I start telling him. ‘I’m just on the verge of a breakdown. I haven’t slept properly in weeks and at night I have these nightmares that really keep my mind occupied all day and they scare the living hell out of me… Man… you know?’<br />
<br />
He looks at me, confused, then picks up the phone and dials a number. I look at the buttons he presses and I recognize the combination. He’s going to make a call to the therapist. I jump out off my chair and press the end call button. With two hands flat on his desk I tell him:<br />
<br />
‘Sir… please, there’s no need to talk to the therapist about this. I… I found my own doctor already. Yeah! I didn’t call him yet, but I think he can explain to me what’s going on with me.’<br />
<br />
Still confused about what I just did, he puts down the horn and looks at me.<br />
<br />
‘Alright. I’ll give you the day off. Go make an appointment with that doctor of yours if you haven’t already. Make sure to drop in tomorrow too to let me know how things went down and if you made any progress. Then I also got a favor to ask you, but that’s for later, okay?’<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"><b>-VII-</b></span></div>
<br />
A favor… he never asked me for a favor before.<br />
<br />
I went to sit in my car with my phone in one hand, the phone number of the doctor in my other hand. I typed in the number 15 minutes ago, but I hesitate to press the call button. Come on, man… just do it. Call him.<br />
<br />
10 more minutes pass before I got the guts to click the call button. I put the phone to my ear and listen to the sounds the phone made. Dialing… ringing…and a soft click followed by a low voice, saying:<br />
<br />
‘This is Dr. Sethe speaking, how can I help you?’<br />
<br />
I hesitate… ‘Uh yeah… hi. I uhm… got some bad dreams and uhm… I need help. I read you were an expert with dreams and such so I was hoping you’d have time to see me today…’<br />
<br />
‘Sure thing, how about 3PM, that sound good to you?’<br />
<br />
‘Yeah… 3PM is fine.’<br />
<br />
‘Alright, I’ll see you then. Just tell my assistant that we spoke on the phone, she’ll know who you are.’<br />
<br />
‘Okay. Seeyouthenbye.’ I mumbled. I never have that much trouble talking on the phone. Weird.<br />
I arrive at the doctor’s office at 2:30PM. The weather’s changing and dark clouds are forming in the sky above me as I step out of the car. I look up to see if there’s rain falling already, but there isn’t yet. The wind stopped blowing too. I guess this is what they call the calm before the storm…<br />
<br />
I turn my gaze forward again and look at the building in which the doctor’s office is located. I guess I’m going in. It’s a pretty modern building and it really stands out from the rest of the street. I cross the street and almost fall down over the edge of the sidewalk. This building doesn’t fit at all. The rest of the houses in this block look kind of dirty, old, not taken care of. But this one… it almost shines. I recognize this street too somehow. But where have I seen it before? I can’t remember. My memory has been a complete wreck lately.<br />
<br />
I open the door and walk inside, looking around to capture some details of the building. As soon as I enter, I hear a friendly voice.<br />
<br />
‘Welcome sir, you are the man the doctor spoke with on the phone?’ a woman said, while stretching out her arm to shake my hand.<br />
<br />
‘Yeah,’ I say, while still looking around the building, ‘nice to meet you.’<br />
<br />
The woman notices my staring and says: ‘Not quite what you expect in a neighborhood like this huh? Quite frankly, this whole neighborhood will get a complete overhaul. They say the way the neighborhood looks now is not good for the image of the city. All will be rebuilt in the style of this building you’re standing in. Apparently they liked this building so much that they wanted the whole block to look like it.’<br />
<br />
I look at her and say: ‘It is quite nice, yes. But all these other houses are empty?’<br />
<br />
‘No, I don’t think so…’ she says.<br />
<br />
‘I don’t know much about the plans, but I’m hearing a lot of complaints on the street. Apparently the people who live here haven’t been officially notified.’<br />
<br />
‘Oh really?..’<br />
<br />
‘Yeah… I wouldn’t want to be in their shoes. Anyway, you were here to see the doctor at 3PM, right?’<br />
<br />
‘Yeah that’s true. But uhm, how is the doctor? Is he good? You think he can he help me?’<br />
<br />
She looks into my eyes and says with a confirming smile: ‘The doctor is one of the best in his field of business. Don’t worry about a thing. Now, if you’d take a seat right over there where the chairs are, the doctor will be with you soon. Could I offer you something to drink?’<br />
<br />
‘No thanks, I’m good.’ I tell her, and I sit down where she asked me to. I look at my watch, and see it’s 20 minutes to 3. Pff… all this waiting. I look at the window placed above the door where I came in and I notice that it has started to rain. I can also hear a very faint rumble in the distance. I listen to the sound of the weather, and try to pass the time that way.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"><b>-VIII-</b></span></div>
<br />
‘Sir?’<br />
<br />
Woah… I zoned off for a while. I look to my left and notice that the receptionist is looking at me, trying to get my attention.<br />
<br />
‘The doctor is ready to see you now. If you’d walk up the stairs, it’s the first door on your right.’<br />
I get up and mumble a quick thanks to her, then proceed to walk up the stairs. First door on my right… right. I climbed the stairs and arrive at the first door. There’s a gold plated plaque on the door, saying:<br />
<br />
<i>Dr. Adam Sethe, Dream Doctor.</i><br />
<br />
I smirk a little bit at the thought of it. Having a title like this probably doesn’t get you much respect in the academic world, let alone in any world. But I shouldn’t think about him this way. He might be able to help me more than I expect. I knock on the door twice and wait for a response from behind the door.<br />
<br />
‘Come in!’<br />
<br />
I open the door and walk in. The room is very different from the rest of the building I’ve seen so far. Marble floors and walls suddenly turned into wooden laminate flooring and oak walls. I look around and notice a man, sitting in his chair. As soon as my eyes cross his, he gets up from behind his desk and walks towards me to shake my hand.<br />
<br />
‘Welcome, I hope you could find it easily.’ he says.<br />
<br />
‘Piece of cake…’ I reply to him.<br />
<br />
‘Hm… well, let’s get started then, shall we?’<br />
<br />
I nod to him and walk towards his desk to sit down. I wait for him to sit down as well.<br />
<br />
‘Do you mind if I smoke?’ he asks me.<br />
<br />
‘No, it’s okay,’ I say and he immediately proceeds to light his cigarette. The man looks old, yet sophisticated. He was your typical shrink type of person. Grey beard, grey hair and glasses pinned down on his nose. I observe him for a little bit. I don’t even notice that he’s doing exactly the same. Only a few minutes later I snap out of my zone and notice that he’s staring back at me. Right as I snap out of it, he starts talking.<br />
<br />
‘Right, now that we’re back on earth, I understand that you’ve been having some trouble sleeping properly. What I’d like you to do now, is dig through your memory and try to figure out what it is exactly that you’ve been seeing in your dreams, what you’ve been feeling and what makes you feel so afraid.’<br />
<br />
I hesitate… I don’t like to think back to it…<br />
<br />
‘I understand that you have trouble going back to your nightmares. And it’s perfectly normal. But to get to the core of the problem, you have to remember, you have to feel the thing that’s bothering you. Only that way I can help you. Take your time… there’s no rush.’<br />
<br />
I look at him and notice that he’s serious. He waits for me to talk. I start thinking back to the first night.<br />
<br />
‘The first nightmare involved three things that scared the hell out of me. My eyesight was partially gone, there was a silence I had never experienced before and my chest was hurting so badly I could feel my body collapsing inward… The second nightmare I had involved even more darkness. I couldn’t see anything. I was completely blind and could only see for what… 1 meter? And that was with a flashlight. I encountered a light, held by someone. I can’t remember his face, but it was a man. The man was hurt, bloody, dead. The third nightmare I had, was this morning in the office. I was stuck. I couldn’t move. I was trapped in nothingness. And the briefcase. What’s with the briefcase? That’s all I can remember doctor. What can you make from all of this?’<br />
<br />
I get out of my memory and see that the doctor isn’t in his chair anymore. He’s pacing around the room, lost in his thoughts. He then says:<br />
<br />
‘A very peculiar case, that’s for sure. Let me first tell you that dreams are generally considered games of the mind. People tell you that dreams are nothing but an illusion, a practical joke played by the brain. But I don’t share that viewpoint on dreams. To me, dreams have a red line in them. This red line usually stretches through several dreams, creating a story. Then there’s also a blue, green and maybe thousands of other lines that swirl around the red line, making up details around the story that the red line makes. The red line gives out facts; it basically predicts your future. Usually our mind doesn’t remember what the red line of your dream indicated about things that are going to happen in the future. Yet sometimes the red line gives out indications so strong, that your mind does in fact remember it. You get the feeling that you already experienced a moment when it comes. That’s what people call déjà-vu. French for ‘already seen’.<br />
<br />
As for you, the dreams that you are having is a way of that red line, trying to tell you something, trying to make you see something that is going to happen. From what I understand is that your dreams are getting less painful? I mean, you regained your vision and you felt a certain form of enjoyment in the last dream, right? At first, that is of course.’<br />
<br />
I nod. ‘They’re scary still. But not as painful.’<br />
<br />
‘So maybe your dreams are trying to protect you from, or warn you for something. For some reason they tell you a story in a reverse order. There’s probably a reason for it.’<br />
<br />
I look at him and ask: ‘So do I have to fear for my life? I mean… I did feel a lot of pain in my dreams.’<br />
<br />
‘There’s no need to fear for your life, however you can’t be too careful. At this point you can’t really tell anything for sure. Just know that the red line isn’t always the dominant line in your dreams. Sometimes, the blue line sends out a message too. Your pain might’ve been caused by the blue line, but it’s only the red line that tells you actual facts. Only now, you might not know which line tells you what.’<br />
<br />
I honestly believe that this man is crazy. I get up and reach for my wallet.<br />
<br />
‘Okay. Thanks for wasting my time. Here’s 50 euros. If you want to scam people for their money, at least come up with a story that makes sense. Bye.’<br />
<br />
I turn around and walk away. As soon as I touch the doorknob, the doctor says:<br />
<br />
‘Don’t come back to me saying that I didn’t warn you.’<br />
<br />
He barely finished his sentence and lightning and thunder struck outside, making it feel like the building was shaking. The room lights up for a few seconds, then goes back to its normal state. I look out the window, and so does the doctor. He turns to face me again.<br />
<br />
‘Well that was kind of cliché, wasn’t it.’<br />
<br />
‘You’re a crazy man.’ I tell him and I walk out the office.<br />
<br />
I descend the stairs and walk past the receptionist. She asks me:<br />
<br />
‘How was your meeting with the doctor, sir?’<br />
<br />
‘Bad, thanks, bye.’ I say and I walk out the front door, pulling my coat over my head as I run through the rain towards my car.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"><b>-IX-</b></span></div>
<br />
I drove straight home. I open the door and drop my keys in the basket on the phone table near the door. I’m soaked; it started to rain even harder. And I only walked from the car to my house.<br />
<br />
The words of the doctor still float around in my mind. This guy… how does someone get so desperate for people to believe him. I walk into my living room and sit down in my favorite lounge chair. I wipe the water out of my face and rub my eyes. I’m a wreck. I close my eyes for a few seconds and feel the darkness taking me to sleep…<br />
<br />
No… not now. I’m not going to sleep right now. I’ll take a shower first. I walk up the stairs towards the bathroom. I undress and step into the shower cabin, closing the cabin doors behind me.<br />
Finally something I’ve been looking forward to all day, a nice hot shower. I let the water flow over me, but it takes me some time to realize that the water isn’t flowing away the same way it usually does. Dammit, are the pipes clogged? The water is up to my ankles at this point and I kneel at the drainage to try to find something that blocks the water from flowing away in the plughole. I can’t find anything… The problem must lay deeper in the pipe system. I guess that’s the end of my shower.<br />
I turn the knobs to stop the water flow, but the water keeps coming. What the hell? The water has risen until my knees now and the only thing I can think of doing now is open my shower doors. I push against the doors, but there’s no movement in them. The steam of the hot water is building up against the cabin walls. I turn around quickly again to see if I can turn off the water anyway, but realize that the knobs are gone. Did they fall into the water?<br />
<br />
I take a deep breath and go underwater to look for the knobs. I can’t see anything shiny and metallic, however the bottom of the cabin feels dirty. I scrape my hands across the bottom to find out how it suddenly got so dirty. I move my head up, expecting to get out of the water, but the water level suddenly seems to have risen meters above me. I try and jump, to get above it, but it doesn’t work. I’m starting to get out of breath and I can’t hold it much longer… I need air.<br />
<br />
I push my hands across the surface of the cabin walls, trying to open the doors, but I don’t succeed. My lungs are on fire and I can’t help my reflex to gasp for air, only to fill my lungs with water. Panicky, I look outside, through the transparent doors. My vision gets less clear and my head starts to hurt real badly. With my last bit of vision, I can make out something through the doors. It’s a silhouette of 4 men standing there, looking at me. Looking at my suffering, wanting me to die.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"><b>-X-</b></span></div>
<br />
I jump out of my place, face first on the floor, screaming. I’m in tears. I don’t know where I am right now. All I know is that I’m tired of it. So tired. I breathe heavily trying to get my grip on what’s reality. I’m losing my mind. I’m trying to look around, but I feel dizzy and can only make out flashes of the environment as I look around. Slowly I start to see things sharper, getting a feel of where I am again.<br />
<br />
I’m in my house. Okay, that’s good. Where in my house am I? There’s a chair… coffee table… kitchen door… Okay. I’m in my living room. I turn around and look at the place I fell out of. It’s my chair. I fell asleep in my chair. How long has it been? I feel my clothes and hair and notice that I’m still wet from the rain. Can’t be too long then. I look at my watch and notice that I’ve only been asleep for 6 minutes. Damn…<br />
<br />
I guess I’m not sleeping tonight anymore.<br />
<br />
I walk to my kitchen and start making coffee. Lots of it. I need to stay awake tonight; I can’t take another one of these nightmares. I guess I’ll be watching movies or maybe play some video games. But first things first. Coffee. Yes, that’s a good idea. Coffee.<br />
<br />
Hours went by and I’ve been watching 3 or 4 movies at this point. Although watching is kind of a big term for what I’ve actually been doing. I haven’t really been paying much attention to the movies and their stories. I’ve mostly been watching some moving pictures. I think I drank at least 5 cups of coffee already. What time is it now? I look at my watch and see that it’s 3:15AM.<br />
<br />
Better turn up the volume of the TV to keep me awake. I look for the remote, but I can’t find it. Must’ve fallen on the floor. I get up after sitting for 8 hours straight, trying to see if the remote is on the ground. But mere seconds after I get up, my vision goes black, my head starts spinning and my body goes numb and I crumble down on the floor.<br />
<br />
…should learn… not to get up… too fast.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"><b>-XI-</b></span></div>
<br />
I open my eyes and see a familiar environment. The forest…<br />
<br />
I immediately jump up to look around, scared about what might happen this time. I stretch out my arms to feel if there are any walls. But there aren’t. I walk forward and notice that I’m not bound to any radius to walk freely in. There’s a lot of background noise as usual. Just like last time.<br />
<br />
‘There you are.’<br />
<br />
I suddenly hear a voice behind me, and it scares me. I turn around and see someone I didn’t expect to see here. Not in this state anyway.<br />
<br />
‘Good to see you here right on time …’ my boss said.<br />
<br />
I look at him, surprised and say: ‘Sure thing, why wouldn’t I be?’<br />
<br />
He drives closer to me with his handicap vehicle and continues to speak. His voice… it echoes a little bit. And some parts of his speech cut out…<br />
<br />
‘Well both … good with you lately. So how … doctor? … it did, otherwise you wouldn’t have … right? Anyway, yesterday I told … you. … pretty important. I want you to … operating in. There are some issues … close and I want to take matters … escalate and … mayhem. But I don’t … right? After all, you’re … big thing. Now then, let’s go, shall we?’<br />
<br />
I focused as hard as I could to try and understand what he was saying, but I couldn’t make much from it. I try to signal him that I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but he doesn’t seem to understand what I’m trying to make clear.<br />
<br />
‘Sir… I don’t really know what you’re getting at…’<br />
<br />
He looks at me with a funny look and turns his vehicle around, saying:<br />
<br />
‘Hahaha! Some joker you are. Come on, let’s go.’<br />
<br />
I need to follow him, so I start walking after him. But his vehicle is too quick and starts speeding up more. I try to call out that he needed to go slower, but I realize that it isn’t him who’s going faster; it’s me who’s going slower. I look down and notice that my feet got stuck in the ground, as if the ground suddenly turned into hot asphalt, waiting to dry. I get more trouble walking with every step, and at a certain moment, my whole foot gets stuck and I can’t move anymore. I try to pull my foot loose from the substance that’s on the floor, but don’t succeed.<br />
<br />
I lose my balance and fall over. My face hits the ground and the ground starts absorbing it as well. I try to pull myself out of it with all my power, but it doesn’t let me. The last thing I hear is the voice of an unknown man, telling me that I need to slow down…<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"><b>-XII-</b></span></div>
<br />
Slow down?<br />
<br />
That phrase rushes through my head as I wake up swiftly again, noticing I’m on the floor of my living room. What time is it?<br />
<br />
I look at the clock on my TV-stand and see that it’s 6AM. I get up, I can feel my body shake a little. My head hurts, probably from that fall I made last night. I walk to my kitchen to get a drink. I might as well take some aspirin too. Damn, I hate aspirin.<br />
<br />
I walk back to the living room and sit down in front of my television. I place my arms on the sides of the chair and feel the remote laying on the arm of the chair. Weird…<br />
<br />
Let’s see if there’s something interesting on TV. I ended up zapping for two hours. There’s never anything interesting on TV anymore. The only thing that caught my attention was the news, talking about a storm that’s passing through the area. Oh well… at least it’s time to go to work. I put on my working clothes, brush my teeth and go out.<br />
<br />
Indeed… the weather man didn’t lie. I pull my coat over my head as I walk out and rush to my car. I drive off and once again, the streets are pretty empty. Who can blame people anyway? With this weather, I’d rather stay inside too. At least I can step on it.<br />
<br />
I drive through town, approximately ten km/h above the speed limit. Suddenly I see lights flashing in my rear view mirror and I can hear the sound of an alarm. Damn… just what I need. I pull over, turn off the engine and wait for whatever is going to happen next.<br />
<br />
Looking in my side view mirror, I see an officer step out of his car and walking towards mine. I roll down the window to hear what he has to say.<br />
<br />
‘Sir, do you realize that you were driving 60 in a 50 zone?’<br />
<br />
I don’t really feel like staying here and talking with him for long. So I answer short and polite:<br />
<br />
‘Yes officer, I was aware of that fact. I just felt that those extra 10 km/h’s couldn’t hurt, since the streets are deserted anyway.’<br />
<br />
He looks at me, a bit annoyed and says: ‘Sir, do you realize that a speed limit still is a speed limit, even if the road is deserted?’<br />
<br />
‘Yes officer, I realize that. It was my bad, and it won’t happen again.’<br />
<br />
‘Alright, I’ll let you off with a warning this time. Just remember to slow down when you’re driving in urban areas, alright?’<br />
<br />
A bell rang in my head. ‘Excuse me? What did you say?’<br />
<br />
The officer looks at me and asks me: ‘Do you have trouble hearing, sir? Or can’t you grasp the simple concept of road safety? Slow. Down. When. In. Urban. Areas.’<br />
<br />
I can feel my heart beating in my throat. I nod to the officer and roll up the window as he walks away. Slow down… slow down… Déjà vu?<br />
<br />
I sit idle for a few minutes, before turning on the engine again and drive off. I turn my rear view mirror towards me and see that my skin turned very pale all of a sudden.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"><b>-XIII-</b></span></div>
<br />
I simply refuse to believe the words of the doctor. That man was out of his mind. Dreams predicting the future? No way.<br />
<br />
I arrive at the office, park my car and run to the entrance, with my coat covering my head. I don’t greet the receptionist, nor Hank and walk straight up towards my boss’ office.<br />
<br />
As I arrive there, I knock on the door and rush in as soon as I heard my boss saying I could come in.<br />
<br />
‘There you are. Good to see you here right on time …’ my boss says.<br />
<br />
I look at him, surprised and say: ‘Sure thing, why wouldn’t I be?’<br />
<br />
Only just realizing what happened when I came in, I quickly cover my mouth. My boss looks at me, confused, but proceeds to talk.<br />
<br />
‘Well both you and I know that things haven’t been going very good with you lately. So how was your meeting with the doctor? Did it do any good? Surely it did, otherwise you wouldn’t have been here at this time, right?’<br />
<br />
I don’t even know what to answer. He continues talking.<br />
<br />
‘Anyway, yesterday I told you about this favor I wanted to ask you. It’s pretty important. I want you to accompany me to visit the area that we’re going to be operating in. There are some issues concerning this deal we’re about to close and I want to take matters into my own hand, before things escalate and could probably cause a lot of mayhem. But I don’t have to tell you that, right? After all, you’re the main man who led us to this big thing. Now then, let’s go, shall we?’<br />
<br />
There’s the ongoing feeling of déjà vu again. In the past I would always try to continue a déjà vu for as long as possible, before my memory lost the trail of what was going to happen next… But this time I don’t want that to happen. I want to tell my boss that I can’t do him this favor, but all that comes out of my mouth is:<br />
<br />
‘Sir… I don’t really know what you’re getting at…’<br />
<br />
My boss drives around his desk towards the door, turns his head and laughs, calling me a joker.<br />
<br />
‘Come on, let’s go.’<br />
<br />
I’m scared. Could the doctor be right?<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"><b>-XIV-</b></span></div>
<br />
‘Let’s take my car, it’s modified to carry me and my vehicle around,’ my boss says as he throws his keys towards me. I catch them and look at them. I notice my hands are shaking too. The déjà vu ended, but still I can’t help but think about what the doctor had told me. I walk to the driver’s door, open it and sit down. It takes me a minute to realize that my boss wasn’t entering the car.<br />
<br />
Right… he doesn’t walk. I get out of the car and walk to the back. My boss sits there with a funny look on his face. I can’t blame him. It’s pouring outside and both of us are already soaked from the trip from the office to the car. I open the back doors and jump in the car to bring out the rails that are kept in the back. My boss drives over them, giving me a faint smile as he enters the vehicle. I fasten the straps to keep his vehicle steady, put the rails back in and jump out the back.<br />
<br />
Right… now. Where to go? I get in the driver’s seat and start the car. There’s a walkie-talkie on the dashboard. It has a flashing light on it. I pick up the mic and say:<br />
<br />
‘Boss? You can hear me?’<br />
<br />
I wait for a response and sure enough, he can hear me.<br />
<br />
‘Yeah buddy, I hear you,’ he says. ‘Now, I want you to drive to the address that’s pinned down under the sun visor. The address should be familiar to you; you’ve seen it many times before. In case you don’t know how to get there, there’s a GPS installed in the car.’<br />
<br />
For some reason, I don’t need it. I do remember the address. I have seen it before. I know exactly how to get there, although I don’t know how I know. As I start driving, the rain starts getting heavier as well. The windshield wipers are at full speed and are having a hard time wiping away the enormous amounts of water which are flowing on the window…<br />
<br />
My brain is on autopilot right now. I don’t have to focus on controlling the car. All that’s on my mind at this point is the gnawing feeling of discomfort.<br />
<br />
‘Boss? Could you remind me who we are visiting again?’ I ask him.<br />
<br />
‘What’s wrong with you, man? We’ve been struggling with this issue for a long time now. And I finally figured a way to get rid of the issue and you can’t even remember what this is all about? Sometimes I think you’re not as smart as you usually seem on a normal day.’<br />
<br />
A loud laugh follows his demeaning comments. I keep on driving without talking. But the closer we get to the destination, the more anxious I feel.<br />
<br />
Arriving at our destination, I try to make out some landmarks. I’m trying to see why this place seems so familiar. But the rain is too heavy to see anything through the windows. I pick up the walkie and say:<br />
<br />
‘Boss… we’re here.’<br />
<br />
‘Good,’ he replies to me. ‘Could you unload me please? Hahaha!!! That sounded disrespectful if I do say so myself. But in all seriousness, could you help me out?’<br />
<br />
I take a look out the window, already feeling the amount of water I will get over me if I get out now.<br />
<br />
‘Sir? Don't you think it’s better to wait for it to dry a little bit before we get out?’<br />
<br />
‘Nonsense. What are you made of? Sugar? Come and get me out of here. We can’t be late for our meeting.’<br />
<br />
Reluctantly, I put down the walkie, take the keys out of the contact and open the door. I jump out quickly and within seconds, I’m soaked. Running to the back of the car, I try to look around to see if I recognize the place. I… I do recognize it… I know I shouldn’t be here.<br />
<br />
I stand still for a few seconds, trying to push away the feeling of panic that suddenly came over me. I hear my boss smacking the inside of the car. Quickly, I get out of my zone and walk towards the back of the car. I open the door and my boss is ready to drive out. He drives forward without waiting for me to put down the rails and jumps his vehicle out of the car. A loud smack follows, but his vehicle still works.<br />
<br />
‘Slowpoke…’ he mumbles to me. ‘Come on, let’s go, we’re running late.’<br />
<br />
I look at him while he drives off and I walk after him. But I want to get an explanation from him. I start talking as I walk.<br />
<br />
‘Hey! Just… stop there. With all due respect, sir, I’ve been asking you several times what this was all about. And you just won’t answer me. Really, I need to know what we are about to do. I’m not joking around here… My mind is a complete blank! I really… really don’t know what this big thing is all about. So please, I’m asking you. What are we about to do?’<br />
<br />
He stops his vehicle from moving and looks back at me.<br />
<br />
‘My friend… obviously you haven’t had the best days ever. I realize that. But this thing we’re about to take care of? It’s not something to forget about, even if you’re stressed out. Especially since you and I are the ones who caused it. These people we are about to meet aren’t in the best time of their lives right now, and it’s because of us. Personally, I don’t give a damn about them. But it’s time to take care of business. And if your mind is troubling you, well… you should’ve thought about that before we caused all of this. Now get your act together and stop pretending you can’t remember shit! There’s loads of money to win or lose here. And I’d rather choose to win.’<br />
<br />
He drove onwards after his speech and I reluctantly follow him, still unclear about what I’m doing here.<br />
<br />
The rain keeps falling down on us, the wind blowing in our backs. I can’t stand the rain anymore, I can’t see how my boss can be so unmoved by it. This whole time I’m following him, I’m looking at him, trying to figure out what he means to say. Damn, I can’t even remember what kind of work I do. Is it because of my nightmares that I remember so little about my life?<br />
My boss suddenly stops in front of a dark alleyway.<br />
<br />
‘Here it is.’<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"><b>-XV-</b></span></div>
<br />
I look inside the alleyway and wonder what kind of meeting he has set up.<br />
<br />
‘It’s here? In this alleyway?’<br />
<br />
‘Yes. It is. What’s the matter? Afraid of the darkness?’<br />
<br />
I don’t want to admit it to him, but I am in fact afraid of the darkness. My boss turns his vehicle, switches on his headlights and drives into the alley. I can see the rain falling quickly and swiftly in front of the light beam, once again reminding me of the terrible weather.<br />
<br />
I stop walking for a second. I feel something… I feel familiarity with this place. I turn around to see what’s across the street. I squint to make out some details of the building across it. My eyes suddenly grow bigger as I see where I am… I gasp for air as fear runs through my body. I wipe away the water from my face, hoping that what I saw was just an illusion. But it’s not. I’m looking straight at the doctor’s building. My memory… it’s much clearer all of a sudden.<br />
<br />
‘Hey! Stop slowing us down!’ my boss yells at me.<br />
<br />
I quickly turn around and run towards him. I jump in front of his vehicle, begging him to stop moving.<br />
<br />
‘Stop… please. I have a bad feeling about this. I… I remember now. This neighborhood. It’s going to be torn down, right? We were planning to destroy it, right? That’s what this is all about, isn’t it?’<br />
My boss looks at me and smiles. ‘Welcome back to the demolition team, my friend.’<br />
He starts moving further, pushing me aside, leaving me standing there with nothing but his empty response.<br />
<br />
Though I remember now. It’s my job. I’m the person responsible for the upcoming destruction of this part of town… But I can’t stay here alone. I need to follow my boss and help him out. I can’t leave him to do this on his own, especially since my senses tell me that things aren’t going to end too well today…<br />
<br />
I walk after him into the alleyway, until he suddenly stops driving. I stop as well and try to see what’s at the end of the alley. The rain is flowing down my face, getting into my nose and mouth as I breathe. It’s so heavy that it almost feels as if I’m drowning while standing here.<br />
<br />
Drowning?<br />
<br />
Oh god no… a fear shook through my heart as I look down the alleyway and make out a silhouette in the distance. I remember this. The rain, the feeling of drowning. The 4 men.<br />
I shout to my boss: ‘Boss! We need to get out of here! NOW! It’s a trap!’<br />
<br />
He turns his head around to look at me, shocked by my sudden panic. His mouth opens to tell me something. But before he can make out a sound, I feel a hard hit on the back of my head, instantly making my vision blurry. I drop down on the ground, into the cold water that was pouring down my face before.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"><b>-XVI-</b></span></div>
<br />
‘100 grant? He wanted to give us a 100 grant to silence us?’<br />
<br />
‘It would’ve taken a lot more to convince us. The greedy son of a bitch. Did he really think that he would get away with a lousy offer like this?’<br />
<br />
‘Doesn’t matter now. We keep the money and we’ll get rid of those two.’<br />
<br />
‘It doesn’t feel right to me. 100 grant to be divided amongst us? What about all the families that will lose their houses because of these two?’<br />
<br />
‘Come on, man. Think logically for once. No main contractor, no deal with the government, no destruction of the area. Should make sense.’<br />
<br />
‘Maybe you’re right… But are you willing to kill two people for a 100 grant?’<br />
<br />
‘These two here aren’t people. They’re vermin. All they care about is money and that’s it.’<br />
<br />
‘Alright, so… we split the money even? 20,000 each?’<br />
<br />
‘Sure.’<br />
<br />
I hear 5 voices around me. I slowly am able to open my eyes. I notice I’m not outside anymore. The floor on which I’m laying is dry. I feel cold. I try to make a sound and ask what’s going on. Before I can even say anything, one of the men notices I’m not knocked out anymore. He walks towards me and kneels in front of me.<br />
<br />
‘Hey there… how was your sleep? Bad? Ah, don’t worry too much about it, because soon enough you won’t have to worry about sleeping good or bad anymore. Hell, you don’t even have to worry about waking up either.’<br />
<br />
He gets up again and walks towards the table they were standing around to pick up something. I hear two clicks and the man appears to pick up something heavy. I try to see what it is, but I already know what’s coming. I try to shield my face from the briefcase he’s going to hit me with, but I can’t move my arms quickly enough. I feel a pain flash through my head and I lose consciousness again.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"><b>-XVII-</b></span></div>
<br />
I can’t move. I’m stuck. I try to move my body, but it feels just like in my dream. Am I dreaming now? I could be. But I don’t think so. This feels a lot more vivid than it would in a dream. I try to feel what’s holding me from moving.<br />
<br />
It’s not the invisible walls. It’s rope. My wrists are tied to something, my middle is too. The rope is so tight that I have trouble breathing. I can’t move my legs either.<br />
It appears I’m in some kind of cellar. There’s light shining through a small window above me. It looks like I’m below the floor.<br />
<br />
Fuck! My boss! I didn’t even think about him. I try to look around to see if I can find any trace of him around me. I want to call out for him, but I know that it’s not the best idea at this point. I start moving, trying to get out of this chair. I’m moving my entire body, trying to get loose. But I don’t succeed. I lose my balance bouncing around, and fall down on the floor.<br />
<br />
So this is what the doctor wanted to make me see. He was right. He was oh so right. My dreams did tell me what was going to happen. And I just let it happen too. Why didn’t I want to listen? I could’ve still been in my apartment, watching movies at this point… I feel my end is nearing. If my dreams were accurate so far… who knows what’s going to happen to me.<br />
<br />
I didn’t even finish my thought or the door on top of the stairs that led down to the cellar flew open. I quickly turned my gaze towards the door and in the door opening I see the same image I saw in my dream.<br />
<br />
It’s a man. His clothes are ripped. He’s bloody. He’s dead.<br />
<br />
My boss’ lifeless body tumbles down the stairs, making the dust on the floor spread out as he hit the cold stone tiles. I look at the body and I can’t believe what I’m seeing.<br />
<br />
Two men come running down the stairs. They cut me loose from my chair and drag me up the stairs. No matter how much I struggle to get out of their grip, I don’t succeed.<br />
<br />
‘Please… I don’t want to die. Don’t do this please… I didn’t mean to do what I did. It was an accident…’<br />
<br />
I look at them desperately, but they don’t seem to be interested in whatever I have to say. I get dragged to what looks like a hallway. The 5 men are looking at me as I get dropped on the floor. I keep begging them not to do what they did to my boss. One man steps forward and holds a piece of cloth in front of him.<br />
<br />
‘No… I don’t want that. I don’t like the darkness. Don’t put it on, please. Don’t blindfold me!’<br />
<br />
The man doesn’t seem to want to listen and he puts it on anyway. I struggle to make sure he can’t put it on. But with the last bit of energy I have in my body, I can’t really get much done.<br />
<br />
‘Hey… Hey! Stop struggling. It’s not like you can do something anyway. It’s better that we blindfold you before doing this.’<br />
<br />
I ask him: ‘Do what?’<br />
<br />
The man sighs, some of the others laugh.<br />
<br />
‘What? You think we were going to throw you a surprise party? Nah, it’s much different from that. You see, what we’re about to do, doesn’t just benefit us. People like you… people who only care about money and their precious business, they destroy this world. Let me ask you, rhetorically of course, because I can’t really care about what you actually have to say for yourself; how much money would you’ve made, from destroying this block? 2 million? Perhaps 3 million? Not a bad score. Too bad only a couple hundred people will lose their house!’<br />
<br />
The man fell silent for a few seconds after that outburst. I can hear him pacing around the room.<br />
<br />
‘Were you really able to live with that on your conscience? Are you really that cold of a stone? Surely you’re not going to make me believe that ‘you didn’t know’? Because we all know that you did know. And not just you, no… that dirt bag of a boss of yours too. And you saw what happened to him.’<br />
<br />
I reply to him, desperately:<br />
<br />
‘Please man… I’m sorry. I really am.’<br />
<br />
He laughs at my response and proceeds to talk:<br />
<br />
‘Sorry? You’re sorry? Bullshit you are… You’re sorry because you’re about to die. And dying you will. Goodbye.’<br />
<br />
Oh god… I close my eyes, waiting for what’s about to happen. I can already feel the pain from my dream rushing through me. I can hear the sound of a gun clicking, then firing two, three times. I can feel the bullets piercing my chest, giving me the actual pain I’ve felt in my dream too. Only this time… it’s real. And I won’t wake up. It’s not a dream. It’s reality… The pain is real. And my dying is real.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"><b>-XVIII-</b></span></div>
<br />
‘No it’s not.’<br />
<br />
I hear a faint voice, slowly getting closer.<br />
<br />
‘It isn’t real. Well… it was real. Past tense. So did you find out what you wanted to know?’<br />
<br />
I open my eyes and notice that I’m lying on a couch. I look up and let my gaze flow around the room I’m in. Oak walls… I move myself upward to get my orientation back.<br />
<br />
‘Not that easy, was it? Most of my clients don’t take stuff like this seriously. But as I said before, it does hurt and it might make you feel empty afterwards. But for some that’s a good thing.’<br />
<br />
My vision slowly becomes less blurry. I sit on the side of the couch, my head in between my hands, trying to figure out what just happened.<br />
<br />
‘Don’t shield yourself from what’s here and now. And stop dwelling in the past. You came to me looking for answers. And answers you got… Here, take this, it’ll help with the headache.’<br />
I take the mug that the man is offering me. His voice sounds familiar. I look up and stare into a pair of familiar looking eyes.<br />
<br />
‘Doctor Sethe?’<br />
<br />
‘Call me Adam, please,’ he says with a confirming smile. I want to ask him some things; I want to clear up what just happened to me.<br />
<br />
‘Hey… did I just die? Am I dreaming right now? What did you do to me in the office that I don’t know of?’<br />
<br />
He sits back down at his desk and puts his feet on the table.<br />
<br />
‘Well, well, looks like you won’t change. Always looking for answers, never satisfied with what you got. Alright then, here we go:<br />
<br />
Yes, you died. You are dead. Did you die just now? No, you didn’t. Now, with that information, let that brain of yours work and start digging in your memory. Why are you here with me?’<br />
<br />
I start thinking… I start running through the flashes of my memory, trying to look for some images that can explain what happened to me. Flash after flash runs through my mind, until I encounter something I haven’t seen in the past days. Everything in the memory is grey. I close my eyes and focus on the moving images.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"><b>-XIX-</b></span></div>
<br />
I see myself walk around, trying to talk to random people that are walking around a cold, grey looking area. Nobody seems to want to respond to me. Their skin looks pale and rotten. They don’t have hair. All they do is shuffle around, not sure where to go. I look at my own hands and I notice that my skin has gotten pale as well. Everything is silent. There’s no noise.<br />
<br />
Every now and then one of my own thoughts breaks through the barrier of silence.<br />
<br />
‘Help me…’ is what I say. ‘Help me figure out what happened to me.’<br />
<br />
But nobody seems to be able to hear me. I look around to see if there’s something or someone who can help me. In the distance is a building. None of the other people seem to notice it. I start walking towards the large building.<br />
<br />
After what seemed to have been an eternity, I arrive at the building. The material looks brand new, and it seems to shine more than anything else in this area. I walk up the stairs and open the door.<br />
As soon as I enter, there’s a man lifting himself out of a chair in the large hallway. There’s sound again… He walks towards me and says:<br />
<br />
‘Glad you could come. I was expecting you. Follow me and I promise you that after this, you will feel much better. Dr. Adam Sethe is the name, nice to meet you.’<br />
<br />
A huge flash suddenly kills my vision and I feel a sickening lurch that pulls me out of the memory. The flash slowly fades away and I’m back in the doctor’s office.<br />
<br />
‘You remember now, do you?’ He said.<br />
<br />
‘I came to you… for help. I wanted to know how I died. You’ve been helping me figure out how I came to my end!’<br />
<br />
He nods, then proceeds to speak: ‘That’s right, I did. And I have to tell you, you didn’t die in the most comfortable way. But then again, you probably deserved it, right?’<br />
I look at him and want to protest, but I know deep down that he’s right.<br />
<br />
‘Yes... I deserved it. But I still don’t get it. All this time I was tracing back my steps, thinking I was living in the real world. But if I understand correctly, I had already been dead this entire time?’<br />
<br />
‘Correct.’<br />
<br />
‘Then what was the forest all about? The nightmares I was having? The shower, the darkness, the pain? That all actually happened somewhere around… here? The real world I thought I was living in was nothing but an illusion? A dream?’<br />
<br />
‘Correct.’<br />
<br />
‘But how?’<br />
<br />
‘Take a look at this.’ He gets out of his chair and walks to the window. ‘Come now, you might want to see this to fully understand.’<br />
<br />
I get up and walk to the window to look out.<br />
<br />
It’s the forest! It’s so vivid compared to the rest of the grey environment…<br />
<br />
‘You… you’ve been watching me go through all the horror? Or… was it you who made that happen?’<br />
<br />
‘Well, if you put it that way, it may seem pretty harsh, but that’s basically true, yes. You came to me, hoping to reclaim some of your memory. But you see, the process of getting parts of your memory back after you die, consists of two parts.<br />
<br />
As soon as people walk into my office here, I can tell how and why they died. That’s why I’m here, that’s my purpose in death. However, when I try to tell them, they won’t believe it. They don’t remember it. So I have to take different actions.<br />
<br />
By putting my clients through several things that appeared in their lives prior to their deaths, I try to stir up their memories.’<br />
<br />
During his speech, I keep looking at the forest. I then say, with a mind as clear as crystal:<br />
<br />
‘You made me drown to remind me of the rain. You hit me with the briefcase to tell me about the money. You closed me into an invisible box to remind me of the ropes that bound me to my chair. You showed my dead boss, you showed the darkness from being blindfolded and you made me feel the pain of a gunshot wound…’<br />
<br />
I look at him; he looks back at me and says with a smile:<br />
<br />
‘It was the only way to help you. But, that’s not all. There’s a second part to the memory regaining process. You see, the dead also dream. They do. They don’t do it very often either, mostly when they want to remember something important. However, the memory of a dead person is very bad, to say the least.<br />
<br />
I had been struggling with this thing for a while. Prior to your visit here, I had loads of clients who just couldn’t link the things I put them through, with what happened to them before their death. Very troublesome.<br />
<br />
I made a visit to one of your dreams, remember that?’<br />
<br />
‘Yeah I do remember...’<br />
<br />
‘Now, I’m sure you also remember what I told you about my theory about dreaming, right? You seemed to think I was nuts. But with all the new things you experienced now, it doesn’t seem very implausible anymore, does it?’<br />
<br />
I walk back to the couch and lay down on it. ‘No… it most certainly doesn’t. So dreams actually do predict the future?’<br />
<br />
‘Well… it hasn’t been officially proven yet, but experience has taught me that they do. So it got me thinking, if the dreams of the living show the future and work towards the end of a person’s life, would it be the exact opposite in death? Will the ‘death dreams’ show the past? So I started experimenting a little bit. And sure enough, when the dead dream, they dream of their past life.<br />
So if you combine this method with my ability to make them feel how they died, I can make the dead figure out how they got to their end. They can put 1 and 1 together.’<br />
<br />
‘So everything that happened in what I thought was real life, actually happened? Even the nightmares I thought I was having?’<br />
<br />
The doctor sighs and turns away from the window to face me and says:<br />
<br />
‘You still don’t completely understand it… My theory… remember my theory. Talking about all these lines? It applies here too. These death dreams have the red line too. And the blue, green or whatever color line. It works the same way, only here the red line shows parts of the past instead of the future. Who knows, you might’ve fallen asleep at the office, maybe you spent 8 hours staring at a television screen sipping away liters of coffee. But maybe you didn’t do those things at all. You probably didn’t even have nightmares when you were still alive. Perhaps the green line sent out that message; however the green line doesn’t show the truth. But one thing is for sure. You did get killed. You learned how and why. That’s what the red line offers you, and that’s what it wanted to show you.’<br />
<br />
My mind is blank. I don’t know what to say or think anymore. I should be happy with what I know. After all, I came here to find help remembering. But somehow I don’t feel free.<br />
<br />
‘You don’t feel free, huh…’ he says.<br />
<br />
‘Don’t worry, you’re dead. You’re not supposed to feel free. Death isn’t a joy, I tell that to all my clients here. I just wish they would’ve lived a better and healthier life so I wouldn’t have to put them through all their misery, even after their deaths.<br />
<br />
It’s not a fun task I have to do here. But I hope I can at least help people get closure. Now, if you’d excuse me, I got some more clients to take care of.’<br />
<br />
I get off the couch, still not sure what to say to him. He walks towards me and shakes my hand. He then leads me outside, into the grey environment I remember so clearly was around the house. I descend the stairs in front of the building and blend in with the people shuffling around. I turn around to look at the building one last time, but… it’s already gone.<br />
<br />
I turn back to blend in some more and I start to feel in place. Every second more that the house is gone, the volume and sound of the bleak environment turn lower and lower. I look to my right and smile at the dead person walking next to me. He looks back and smiles at me too. With the last bit of sound in the area, I speak to him:<br />
<br />
‘Hey boss…’Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0