Hello once again and today we have another entry from the backlog. And also a declaration by myself since I’ve actually amassed too much backlog that I’m happy to be with. I realize that as I’m writing these more recent pieces of mine, the pieces that I haven’t posted at all, that I’m just perpetuating the problem and that getting all this backlog off my chest is never going to happen. So, in jest of that I’ve decided for the next few weeks or so I’ll consistently push out my backlog of pieces. I actually don’t know how many backlog I have but I’ll get to making sure that they’re all out before I post any of my newer pieces. This has just been bugging me recently and so this is how I’ll get them out. Kind of like a transition I guess, or for continuity sake, but hopefully this bodes well enough for the sake of it. Here you go, “Stroll Through a Morgue”
I woke up rather quaintly. My head was spinning, and I could hardly sit up straight. If there was any a time that I wish I could sit up straight, it would be now. I couldn’t recall anything that happened prior to my being here. My eyes adjusted, and my head was able to concentrate. I was in a white room lying on a white bed with machines next to me. They were off, not a single sound resounded in my room. I turned my body so that my feet hung over the bed, and tried my best to hoist myself up. There was a needle in my arm that I had only noticed when I got up. It didn’t sting, and when I pulled it out I felt nothing. I looked at the bag it was connected to. Empty. In a single word, this room was empty.
I made my way around to what seemed to be a window. Except, when I brushed my hand across the curtain, they didn’t move. I thought the notion was amusing, but that meant I could not see out of the window. And for some reason that thought made me sad. It was all so depressing as I moved my hands to swipe the curtains, only to be denied by an invisible presence. I turned and looked to the single cabinet in the room. For some reason, I had never really paid it much attention when I scanned my eyes the first time. There was a picture on top of it, along with a vase of flowers. I didn’t know what kind of flowers these were, but I knew they were dead. They drooped down and looked depressingly wilted. I picked up the picture, but noticed that the wooden frame was rotten. It was practically falling apart in my hands. However, the strangest part of it was that the picture itself was blank. There indeed was a picture, but it was empty. Not a white space, or a black space. But there just wasn’t anything there, as if my eyes consciously failed to perceive it.
“Hello?” I called out, my voice seeming to dissipate after a while. It was strange since the emptiness in this room didn’t echo. I called out again and listened. There was no echo. I was truly alone in this room. I made my way to the bright brown door. It was the only bit of color in this room, I thought, apart from steal and dead brown. Without thinking, my hand grasped the knob, and turned. I didn’t expect much, but the door opened. I stepped out, and into a white corridor. I turned my head to my right and noticed a door at the end of the hallway. I couldn’t read the plate above it, but my feet began moving.
“Hello.” A metallic voice called out to me. I couldn’t discern whether it was from my right, my left, in front, behind, on top, or even below me. It was just a voice, and it had just called out to me.
“You’re awake.” The voice called again. I didn’t answer. I didn’t know how. The voice didn’t echo either, much like mine. It was just an empty voice. Although, it was metallic. Very metallic.
“How are you feeling?” I continued to walk forward, the door not seeming to get closer, nor farther. It was simply there.
“Like I had just woken up from a coma,” I answered hesitantly.
“What does that feel like?” The voice replied.
“Like everything is spinning, and everything is a haze. I can’t remember anything, is what I’m saying.”
“What can’t you remember?”
“Everything. I just woke up in that room,” I pointed behind me, and turned my head. The door was missing, “Well, there was a room there.” I looked back in front of me, with the door in the distance still there. Not becoming closer, nor getting farther.
“Why are you here?” The voice asked.
“That’s a good question.” The voice stopped. I kept walking forward. In fact, my legs didn’t seem at all like they were moving forward. They were just stuck in place. Although, I did move my legs. My right leg moved up, then my left leg followed after. I made no distance, but I was moving.
“Do you want to leave?” The voice asked. This time, it boomed. It echoed, and I could feel it on my ears. It didn’t ask with emotion, but it was definitely there. That was the difference. The voice this time was real.
“If possible, I guess it would be nice to go back to my previous life. Whatever that may be,” I answered. Without warning, a door opened to my right. It was an abrasive opening, but it was there. A door that had seemingly blended into the white corridor. Except it was brown, like the door at the end of the hallway, and like the door in the room I was in. I walked over to the door, and peered inside. There was a blinding light at first, but when my eyes adjusted, I noticed I was in the living room of a house. I didn’t know who’s it was, but I knew I was in a house.
“Where is this?” I asked to the voice, who didn’t answer back. There was a couch, a table, a television set, a shelf, and a window. I walked over to the window beside the doorway and moved my hand over the curtains. I laughed this time. They didn’t move. The window was still sealed, and after a while it made me sad again. Before I turned to scan the room again I noticed a strong light peering through towards me through the curtains. I looked through to see a shadow of a vehicle passing by. It seemed to stop at the front of the house, and the sound of a door slamming resounded within the room. Someone got out, but I couldn’t see who. They walked to the front door, and then knocked. The room stood still then. And before I knew it, I was back in the white corridor.
“What did you see?” The voice asked. I was surprised at first that the voice had reappeared. But then I reassured myself, it hadn’t reappeared, it was simply watching me watch the room. It was simply being me.
“I saw a room. It had furniture, and there was a window. And a car came by.”
“Someone came out of it, and knocked on the house. I don’t think they were the owner of the house.”
“Then who were they?”
“Probably a guest, or a salesman.”
“Who owned the house?”
“I don’t know.” I continued to walk forward towards the door at the end of the corridor, and keeping note of the lack of progress being made. I thought about what I saw in the room, about the car, and about the curtains on the window.
“When are you going to leave?” The voice asked, disrupting my thought.
“Whenever I can. Maybe that door will help me, do you see that door?” The voice stopped and another door opened from the side of the corridor. It was brown, like the last one, but had seemingly blended into the white corridor.
“That one?” The voice asked.
“No,” I replied. But I felt inclined to walk towards it anyway. I made my way in front of the door, and entered as a beam of white light blinding m. I was in another room, of course.. It was the same room as before, the one I had went into, the one with the couch, the television set, the shelf and the table. And the window. I ignored all else and went to the window, touched my hand over it, and watched as nothing happened. It saddened me all the same. I then turned and looked at the room. There was paper on the table. I trudged my way over, and leaned over to pick them up, but as I did, the words on the paper disappeared. Before I could even catch a glimpse of what was written on them, they had vanished. I placed the paper down, feeling quite indifferent. I then scanned the shelf, it was empty. I didn’t know if it was always empty, or if it was simply the emptiness of the room making me think it was empty, but the shelf was empty. I couldn’t recall what was on the shelf of the other room, the room I was in before, but I think it was empty as well.
“Everything is empty,” the voice said, and just like that, I was brought back into the white corridor. However, the voice was chilling. Perhaps it was this chilling sensation of the voice that had brought me back to the white corridor, but I wouldn’t know.
“What’s empty?” I asked the voice.
“What do you mean?” The voice feigned ignorance. I thought for a second that perhaps it was another voice. Not this metallic one, but that chilling voice was a voice all on its own. The thought made me happy, for some reason.
“Never mind,” I said.
“How do you feel now?” The voice asked.
“Indifferent. I’ve been through two rooms. Although they were the same they did have differences, but none of them were that striking to me.” I kept walking forward with the door at the end of the corridor still there, not getting closer nor getting farther. It was just there.
“What do you want to see in these rooms?” The voice asked almost innocently as if it had no idea of what transpired through my eyes. Perhaps the voice only existed within the white corridor, I thought.
“Who knows. Maybe the truth,” I answered.
“The truth? What would you do with the truth?”
“Perhaps use it to regain what I had lost before coming here, I guess.” The voice remained silent, and just like before, without surprising me, a door opened. A brown door, that had seemingly blended in the white corridor. And like before, I had found myself in front of it, entering, blinded, and then refocusing into a new room.
“Lost,” the voice said. This voice was chilling, though, it was not the metallic one.
“What’s lost?” I asked. The voice didn’t speak. I looked about in the room. There was a television set, a couch, a table, a shelf. And a window. The shelf was empty. The table was empty. And the television set had a crack in it. I made my way over to the window and brushed my hand across the curtains. I laughed, nothing moved, and then I became sad. It was depressing, and at the same time, I found the notion amusing. I didn’t know why.
“What’s lost?” I decided to call out again. There was no response from the voice. However, as if I was being turned, my head suddenly jerked to the doorway, towards the front door. My eyes dilated without my willing, and my entire body waited for something. I didn’t know what, and for some reason, I grew frightened. I began shaking, sweat poured from my head, and my eyes dilated while darting back and forth. Suddenly, a loud bang resounded within the room. This room was not empty. It was chilling. The banging happened not once, or twice, but thrice. I didn’t know what to do. And even if I did, my entire body was planted into the floor tiles. Then, I heard another sound. A beep, a door locking from the inside, and the ruffling of keys into a pocket.
“Have you found it?” The chilling voice asked. And just like that, I was brought back into the white corridor. I wiped my face. It was dry. No sweat. The corridor was empty. Much like I was, and I continued to move forward.
“Where did you go?” The metallic voice asked.
“Another room,” I answered.
“What was in this room?”
“Everything. A table. A couch. A television set. A shelf. And a window.”
“Do all rooms have that?”
“Can’t say. Most do. They call that a living room.”
“Living room?” The metallic voice asked almost as if only learning this term now. Living room. It was a vexing term, I thought. I didn’t know why.
“Will you leave, then?”
“I would if I could. Can you tell me how to leave?” The voice didn’t reply. I was half expecting another door to open, and it did. I entered, like usual. And I saw a shelf, a table, a television set, and a couch. And a window, like usual. Except, the room was dim. The other rooms were quite bright, I think. I moved forward onto the table. There was something on it, but I couldn’t quite make out what it was. I moved my hand to grasp it, and as I did, I felt a sharp sting on my hand. As I brought my hand up, I saw blood, and a sharp pain dispersed throughout my entire being. Although I didn’t verbally express this pain, I knew it to be pain.
“Did you feel it?” The chilling voice asked.
“That’s how it felt back then,” the voice added.
“If only you could feel it, then you would understand,” the voice added.
“Is this, where I was?” I asked. The voice didn’t answer, and just like before, I was brought back to the white corridor. Except, now the walls were stained with red. It was a red corridor, but I knew it was the white corridor. The red was coming off, like paint, and I could see the white wall behind it. The notion made me happy, for some reason. I walked forward, the door at the end of the corridor still there. Except, now I was moving forward, I could feel it. The door grew closer, not farther.
“Do you remember?” The voice asked. It was a different voice though. This one was much more menacing, I think. It was more clear, and much more sharp. It wasn’t any more louder than the metallic or the chilling voice, but it was much more sharp. I was pretty certain of what the voice was asking for. I didn’t need to extend the chain of questions. No. I had my answer. I remembered. I think. At least, that’s what I would tell the voice.
“Yes. I do.”
“Then, you are ready,” the voice replied. I walked forward, towards the door, and grasped the knob. I grasped it, and looked up at the plate above it. I read the words, and then, I cried. I don’t know whether I was crying because I was sad, or because I was happy. That much, I don’t know. But I cried, and then I turned, and said one last thing to the voice.
“I’m the only one that knows.”