The dream of sorrow
Entry posted by λngelღмander
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It was a bright snowy day in a quaint modern town in Pennsylvania. A boy approached his school building with the practiced ease of child who’d finally resigned to his imprisonment there. He shrugged off his coat and placed it in his backpack, entering a computer lab for his first class. He sat down at a computer and inserted a flash drive, booting it. It was some time later that he realized his classmates were all dead and that there was a new man in the room. He looked out the window, and noticed that the overcast, snowy day had become bright and sunny, and the grass was green and clear of snow. He reached out and touched the window, flinching at it’s cool knowing touch. The windows provide clarity, he thought. He greeted the man in the room. The murderer-man wanted something.
“Copy your school’s hard drive onto this flash drive.†he said to the boy, giving it to him. He complied, and when the transfer completed, he handed it back to the man, though he would not take it back.
“Move it to a separate folder in the school hard drive.†The boy complied again, moving the newly downloaded files to a new folder, and at the man’s demands moving it back onto the flash drive again.
“May I ask what the purpose of moving it back onto the computer was?â€
“To consolidate the files, they were brought together when copied, but now they’ve been transferred as one, so they are one. We are one.†A teacher entered the room, the boy flagged him down. The teacher, a plump asian man in corduroy pants and a burgundy shirt, stopped in front of him. There was a loud crash as the murderer-man broke the glass partition between the two halves of the room.
“Excuse me sir, this man has obtained the school files, and I have a copy of them here.†the boy said, pointing to his flash drive. He had stealthily moved a copy of the altered school hard drive onto his own flash drive in a moment of profound foresight. A door that had not previously been along the far wall opened, and the murderer-man walked through it. When it shut, it became a part of the wall again, seamlessly.
“Hand me the flash drive, young man.†He looked up at the asian man once more, making a decision. He stood, pushing his chair back in one motion. He walked over to the wall the man had gone through, feeling it for a keyhole, a doorknob, any protrusion at all.
“Please hand me the flash drive, young man.†He turned back to the man, who he viewed now with scorn. The windows provide clarity. He walked back to the broken glass partition, grabbing a particularly large shard, holding it up in front of his face, facing the asian man. Through the glass he could see that the asian man was the murderer-man. He took a pitchers stance, hurling the glass along it’s long axis at the asian man. He dispersed, and the glass continued to travel, hitting a corner on the opposite side of the room and shattering once more. He picked up another piece of glass, and, in the absence of the asian man, went back over to the area of the wall the man had entered, holding the glass in front of him. This time, he could see the doorknob. It had a keyhole whose shape he recognized immediately. He placed the stub of his flash drive in the keyhole, turned it, and opened the door. It creeped open slowly, revealing a long dark passageway. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He could see nothing, nor detect any walls, yet he knew it was a hallway because he could hear the reverberations of the murderer-man’s footsteps. He began to walk after the man, continuing to hold the shard of glass. It suddenly occurred to him to hold the glass in front of his face again, and he did. The glass revealed helpful lighting. A string of incandescent bulbs with no covers lined the ceiling, and they gave off a medieval torch-lined hall feeling. He felt like he was heading toward a royal feast. After a few minutes he zoned out, continuing to hold the glass in front of him for light. He looked back, noting that the glass did not cause the hallway behind him to light up, it was not producing any light. It provided only clarity. At the end of the hallway, another door could be seen. He had to use the glass to open this one as well, but there was no lock, only a hidden doorknob. He for a moment wondered if the reflection of a glass mirror would provide similar results. The door opened into a room exactly the same as his room in his school, but this one had a large garage sized door at the side that the entrance from the outside would have been. The area outside the door was completely white, and reflexively he rose the glass to his face, and only then noticed a black rectangular opening on the roof of the room. Satisfied, he decided to rid himself of the glass. He nearly let it fall to the ground, then thought better of it and placed it gently on the floor, in case he needed it later. His classmates who had previously been dead were alive and hiding in a corner of the room that bordered the short hallway the opening was in, blocking them from the murderer-man’s view. The murderer-man stood next to the door opening, hand poised over a red button that would presumably shut the door. The button was the type that when pushed in would stay in, and would have to be pulled outward to be switched off. He walked forward toward the door, and when he got too close, the man pushed the red button to close the door. The door shut instantly, there was no motion, the door appeared. He backed away from the door, and the man reopened it. He now spied another boy in aqua running shoes outside the door, bouncing fast on the balls of his feet. He appeared to be preparing to make a break for the inside, as if he would need speed to get back in. The running boy took a run at the door, and the man shut it in his face when he got close, so he veered off to the right, and circled back to his starting position.
“Come inside, kid.†the man taunted. The boy himself took a run at the door, which surprised the man, but he still shut the door in time. The boy could not figure out what the man was trying to do here, but he had an idea. He walked back to the entrance, where there was no apparent wall. He picked up the shard of glass, and walked back over to the corner where the other boys hid.
“The next time the running boy tries to come inside, we charge outside.†They all nodded at him. He peered around the corner at the running boy, and watched him closely. Eventually, he began to run. The boy threw the shard of glass at the murderer-man, and shouted. The glass glanced off the man’s skin, landing outside, breaking apart somewhat, with one large piece left.
“Go, now!†He sprinted for the exit while the dazed man tried to recover from the shallow cut the glass left in his skin. The running boy, startled by the onslaught of other children running at him, stopped in his tracks. With all of his hostages escaped, the man came outside too, guarding the door carefully. The room they were in now was not so much a room as it was a long hallway, but perpendicular to the opening. It was about a city street’s width, with a deep bright white fog at both ends, and unblemished gray walls. The walls were so perfectly flat, it would have seemed flat even at a molecular level. There were two dark openings at the far end of the alley to the left of the opening, the closer of the two on the left, another of the same size on the right, farther away. The fog barrier seemed to drift lazily toward them. There were black openings in the air too. The boy picked up the piece of glass. The man stared after him, with an inscrutable countenance. The room was no more than a hundred feet long, roofed only by the same fog that encroached from the sides. The boy held the glass tightly as he walked toward the far end of the room, and upon reaching the first dark square opening, he crouched, and scooted inside, appearing out the other black hole closer to the fog on the other side. He was not surprised by this development. He walked toward the fog, and into it. It felt like nothing in particular, and he found himself walking out the other side of the room, which was consequentially closer to the door, as that was where the door was when the room opened. He could see that he was on the other side of the room through the fog, and to the ones observing him, it appeared that he had just vanished into the fog. Carefully, he backed up the way he came, and came out the fog far from the door again. He stood near the fog’s edge, and began to shout.
“Hey, murderer! You can’t catch me. I’m right here if you want me!†Nothing happened. The man wouldn’t abandon his post by the door. Unless…
“Everyone, come over here!†He continued to shout to his living classmates, to come to him. After a minute, all of the stragglers had come over. He spoke in quiet tones to them.
“When I begin to run, run after me and stay close. And be very, very quiet.†The murderer-man came closer, increasing the gap between him and the door. He stared after the man, who continued to walk slowly up to them, and when he felt they had enough distance, he began to run. Obediently, his classmates followed him, into the fog. As quiet as they were, the man never realized they had appeared behind him. The boy got inside the doorway, and ushered everyone past the door.
“Have fun, murderer,†he said snarkily, before slamming the button. Only then did the murderer-man turn around to see he’d been locked out. For the first time, the man’s rage surged to the surface, like a shark jumping out of the water. The change was immediate, a screaming and angry man appeared at the door moments later, shouting and pounding on the door. The catharsis seemed to calm him, and he resumed his chillingly stoic facade moments later. He brandished a pistol, pointing it at the glass. Through the glass of the door, he could see through the man. The windows provide clarity. The man had no soul. He pulled the trigger, and no bullet came out. instead, he rocketed back, accelerating as he went, until he landed against the wall opposite the door. The gun, it seemed, could affect gravity here. The boy came closer to the door to garner a better angle on the spectacle at hand. It was only then that the boy noticed the black rectangular opening high on the wall that the man was now standing on. The man, who was looking up at the boy, read the look on his face and traced his eyes back to the hole. He began to run for it. The boy stared after him no longer, instead running for the bathroom that he knew was connected to the room. Inside, he found a mirror that hung on the wall. He pulled it off, fraying the twine cord that supported it’s weight. He peered into it, and he saw his face, rimmed in blackness. He stuck his arm out at it, and when his arm reached the mirror, it reflected his fingers, they came out inverted and reflected. He carried the mirror out of the room, holding it at his side, just as the murderer-man dropped into the room from outside, landing in a roll, tucking his shoulder under himself. He sprang up.
“You’ll die for that, kid.†He looked around, and when he saw the boy, he rose the gun. The boy watched carefully. When he began to pull the trigger, he rose the mirror quickly. The bullet flew into the mirror, and right back out, slamming the murderer man in the chest. He stumbled backward, caught off guard by the sudden penetration. He took another shot at the boy, and that one too hit the mirror, slamming into the wall behind him. A puff of drywall flew from the bullet’s impact, and the man finally went down. He set the mirror down, smashing it’s frame apart. He flipped it over and began to scrape the aluminum off the back of the glass with the sharp metal edges of the man’s pistol. In only a few broad strokes, and some picking with his nails, the mirror became a pane of glass. He used this glass to gain access to the hallway again, and beckoned for the other boys to follow. When they finally got back to their original classroom, they resumed their work.
EDIT 1/14/15 REVAMPED STORY
This story may seem odd to you, what it was really meant to be was something to open your eyes, to blow away your presumptions, because it was very blank and abstract, the story wasn't something you were meant to truly understand but to simply follow along, and for this reason I hope you were able to enjoy it. I don't have infinite time to write pieces like this, because this was a pretty thought out story, but it was not nonsense. If you didn't quite follow, read it again, I promise it makes sense if you focus. The main theme is not a plot even, but escaping evil.
Hope you enjoyed, angelmander.
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