fancy taking a butcher at some fantasy?

Home Latest Posts Search Help Rules

Subscribe to topic Low Bandwidth

Down to Quick Reply

Displaying Page 1 of 2

1 | Last Next

ultimathule Posted: 11:10 Jan05 2007 Post ID: 1271307

ultimathule

Posts: 55
Post Likes: 0

Here's something I came up with on the instant to show you;

Walls

by Malachi Marriott

I awoke in darkness. Slowly I tried to bring reason into focus. Where was I? I had no idea. No idea of where I was, where I had been, how I had got to wherever I was. I was in a cold sweat. "My God!," I must have uttered aloud, the sound creating a hollow echo.

I was lying on a cold dank stone floor. I had neither pillow nor covers. I must have been awfully tired to have slept in such surroundings, or was I placed here while I was asleep? I tried hard to think - where had I been? who had I seen? what had I been doing? I had no answers - none! I sat up on the cold floor and clutched my head in my hands. I couldn't remember anything - not one single thing from the past. I brought myself to realize that I wasn't even sure who I was. I was frightened. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, could feel the sound rather than hear it. I only knew one thing - I had to get out of where I was - back to civilization - back to friends and family. But where? Where was I? Was I indoors or out? Was it summer or winter? I couldn't tell! I could tell only that I wore a loose-fitting garment of some sort - maybe a jogging suit. I couldn't really tell in the dark. It had but one pocket, and it was empty. I had no shoes or socks, no underclothes, nothing else except the sole garment. I felt chilled - but not cold. Cold from the dankness, the musty odor filled my lungs.

It was pitch black. Black and deathly quiet. Maybe, I thought, this is really death and this is my grave. That would explain the lack of memory - I was in-transit, from one life to the next? . . . from one soul to another? I laughed, a scared laugh, my throat rasping. My fears multiplied. This cannot be, I finally reasoned . . . I can hear, at least my own sound, I can feel, I can smell, I can move. I think I can see, but it is so dark, I really can't tell. I searched all around me for a small ray of light. Nothing! I had to be alive, alive and well. I had certainly gotten myself into some predicament, but I would be all right as soon as I got my bearings, as soon as I learned where I was, as soon as I could find the light.

Slowly I stood up, and walked ever so slowly forward, using my arms as feelers. Nothing! I continued walking and then suddenly, I could feel a wall directly in front of me. I made my way to the wall, and with my back toward it, I inched to my right. The wall was stone, old and roughly carved of massive blocks. It too was damp, cold to the touch. My right hand felt both along the wall and the emptiness to my left, exploring the darkness. I walked on and on - a few feet, several yards? I couldn't tell. I was too disorganized, too illogical. Finally, I came to an adjoining wall, also stone, also cold. I went around the corner, and continued on until I felt the end of the wall. Was it a doorway? I felt along the corner. It was as if the wall had ended. There was no overhead arch.

I inched my way through the opening, back the way I had come along the other side of the wall. I thought of venturing into the opening, but felt safer, more secure, as long as I could touch something. I continued on. I persevered - around corners, through new openings, but everywhere, every turn, everything seemed the same. Was I closer to escaping, or going deeper into trouble? I couldn't think clearly, couldn't fathom where I was or how to get out. I sank slowly down to the floor and wept, wept for a long time, my body heaving in my sorrow. I decided to try to sleep a while longer. Maybe then, I could think more clearly. Maybe then, reason would return.

I slept fitfully off and on for a few minutes, a few hours? My mind was racing, but nothing made any sense. From my half-sleep, I awoke from a nightmare - I was falling down, down into darkness below. No, it was but a dream. I was still there, on the cold stone floor next to the wall, but . . . there was now a faint light. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I could make out the form of other walls, other doorways. The walls were all high, much higher than my head, perhaps two to three times taller than I. There was no ceiling -just a dark gray emptiness. If this was a room, it appeared to be irregularly shaped, with walls jutting in from strange angles. The floor seemed solid, solid rock like the walls. My surroundings made no sense, absolutely no sense. I was sure now that I had never before been here - wherever I was. Even as I sat, the surroundings became more and more bright, from a source I couldn't see. Was it the sun? the moon? or was I in some huge hall? I couldn't tell. I only knew, more than ever, that I had to get out . . . that I had to escape!

Frantically, I arose and half-walked, half-ran to the nearest open doorway . . . only to find another room much like the one I had left, with other doorways. I ran from room to room, through passageways and doorways, becoming anxious. Each room was much like the rest, multiple doorways, irregularly shaped, tall walls. Real panic set in. I entered a tight corridor. A dead end! Retreating, I searched further on. Finally, the terrible truth became obvious - I was in some huge maze! I tried to calm myself. I stopped and sat down to study the alternatives. My approach had been random. Was I closer to freedom or merely further into the maze? There was no way of knowing. There had to be some plan that would work. Should I try to stay in a straight line? No, that would be almost impossible, with all the twists and turns. Should I keep turning to the left or to the right? Possibly. Should I try to mark the path I took, in case I needed to retreat? Yes, but how? There didn't appear to be any loose stones, nothing that I could use to mark my progress. Nothing . . . unless I used small scraps from my clothing. I had on, not a jogging suit, but some kind of uniform, maybe a prisoner's, made of dark gray cotton. Taking off my shirt, I tore it into smaller and smaller pieces. I had a plan. I would keep to the right, would take every right turn and would leave behind a trail of clothing scraps so if I had to retrace I could. I wasn't convinced that my plan was sound, but at least it was better than what I had been doing. It at least was a positive attempt to solve this gigantic puzzle.

By now the light was bright. There was still no indication of where the source of the light was coming from, no shadows, no warmth generating from the light source. It was still chilly, the floor was still cold, the odor still musty. I clutched the shirt scraps in my hands as I walked deliberately toward the opening on the right. As I took the first turn, I dropped the first of many scraps. On and on I walked, through twists and turns. Tired, hungry, thirsty, I stumbled on, the scraps diminishing quickly as I made my way through passageway after passageway. Was I closer to freedom? I didn't know, didn't want to think about it. I was following a routine, dully, and I tried to block out all thoughts, because the only thoughts were those of fear, those of panic, thoughts that began "What if . . .?"

Hours passed. I stumbled on . . . and on, toward an uncertain fate. Occasionally I found myself in dead alleys, and had to retrace my steps. Finally, the last scrap of material was gone, and yet I wandered still in the maze, unchanged from the first room I had seen . . . no noticeable progress made. Finally, when I was on the verge of collapse, I took one more right turn, and saw at the end of the passageway a door - a wooden door. Made of rough lumber, I found that it had no knob. Opening outward, out of the passage, it was locked or nailed shut from the other side. I pushed on the door with all my strength, but it wouldn't budge. I went back to the end of the passageway and ran toward the door, hitting it with my shoulder. It didn't give. I repeated the maneuver time and time again, until my shoulder was bleeding. It seemed to be giving way! I ignored the pain in my shoulder, the blood, the pounding in my head. Time and time again, I rammed the door, until at the verge of total exhaustion, it moved. Not a lot, but it moved. I attacked the door with new energy and finally it gave way. I pushed, and it opened.

Inside, I discovered a maze of mirrors. I sat down and cried.

High above, unseen, the laboratory technician in his white coat smiled as he consulted his stop watch before making his latest notation on the chart.

I'm also writing a series of books based in a parrell universe to our own called the Spirit Realm, where magic was developed instead of science.