The Corridor pt2

By Aarron Mondello

22/11/2017

 

Standing again at the end of a corridor similar to the first only this time lit by flickering yellow fluorescent tubes that cast an eerie glow along the walls. They shone just bright enough to dispel any shadow between them. As before, behind him was only a blank wall with flaking paint and no clue as to how he came to be in this place.

He retained full memory of his last trip down a dank corridor lit by burning torches in sconces above dilapidated old doors that opened onto a maddening black nothing. He still didn’t understand what significance that hallway held but he had a feeling the picture would be somewhat filled in as he travelled this one. He knew there would be other doors under those faulty old lights. He wasn’t so sure he wanted to open any of them though.

He took a deep breath and slowly started walking forward. After all, what else was there to do here? His mind kept going back to the fist Corridor. The madness he had started to feel as he traversed it’s impossible length. The darkness and sounds experienced behind each door tickled familiarly at the edges of his brain but he couldn’t quite manage to grasp why. Everytime he thought he almost had it it slipped away, slid between his fingers like an eel coated in oil. Apprehensive and nervous he walked to the first flickering yellow tube above the first door.

The door he found was not rotten and dilapidated as he was expecting. Quite the opposite it looked brand new and fit for a mansion as opposed to this dark Hall. Pristine white it seemed to gather the light to itself and reflect it cleanly from every gleaming surface. The paint like pure snow, the shining brass hinges and golden oval doorknob all seemed lit from within.

He relaxed a little at the sight of it. A door this lovely to behold couldn’t be hiding darkness and madness…could it?

As he reached a tentative hand towards the sparkling doorknob he noticed a light engraving on the white wood, so soft it was barely there.                  “Terry?” he asked softly of the tiger etched in the pristine wood. No answer came and he wondered then who Terry was and why the name and image seemed so familiar in his heart.                    Ultimately it didn’t matter, he turned the handle and stepped through the door.

He sat on a pale blue, circular rug in the middle of a room with walls painted to resemble a cloudless sky. Looking up he saw a bright yellow sun-shaped shade hanging motionless from a light in the ceiling. On one wall there was a four tier bookcase with filled with children’s stories. Strangely though, he could not read the titles, he could see where the words should be but they were just nonsensical shapes.                                                                                  Against another wall were two toy boxes. One was a plain soft green shaped like a chest, the other shaped like a dinosaur with its back open. Between them a mountain of teddy bears and plush toys were stacked staring at him with black glassy dead eyes.     There was a bed, low to the ground and made to look like a red race car. And on the last wall the white tiger etched door stood open through which he could see the corridor.

From somewhere else in this place, a place apart from this room he could hear voices though he could not understand a word they said. Time to move on he decided. On to the next door in the hopes that it would not be exactly the same. He tried to sand and found he had absolutely no control of his balance. Every time he tried to stand he’d fall heavily to the blue mat.

He began to yell in frustration. Smacking the rug with an open hand.

“Oosha adda iddy ad?” a woman’s voice called from beyond the door. His heart swelled with love when he heard voice. He tried to call out and tell the woman he couldn’t stand but all he could do was gurgle and make noises. He tried again and when he still could not talk he began to cry. Great heaving sobs shook his shoulders and his high pitched scream bounced off the walls, reverberating in his ears and hurting his head which made him want to cry more.

The sight of her stopped him, confused and unable to grasp just how she was walking towards him through a wall in the corridor. He could see her coming closer. As though she walked along a passage but she was in the wall! It hurt his head to look at. His mind refusing to make sense of it. It was as though the corridor he had left was layered over another place and the people that existed here were unaware of his world. They couldn’t touch his and he couldn’t see theirs.

Thankfully, finally, she stepped through the door into the room and the sickening image of her walking towards him from far away in a solid wall was gone. She stood before him tall and beautiful looking down on him with startling green eyes. She was beautiful, but he was afraid in a corner of his mind. A corner that still stood in the corridor.

“Up to Aunty?” she asked him and he was relieved to find he actually understood this time. He reached up to her and she bent to pick him up, holding him on her hip.

“Oh ee Dad?” one word he knew but he made no effort to reply. He just stared at her and she turned to walk out of the room. As she passed the threshold he felt a jolt, like an electric shock encompassing his entire body and he found himself back in the corridor looking at a pristine white door with police tape stuck in zig zags down it’s face.

He passed two more doors and they held very similar encounters. Both times the same woman who would come to get him in the midst of a tantrum and somewhere she’d mention “Dad” before walking out of the door and thumping him back into his own body.

The third door took a darker turn as he sat on the blue rug crying. From somewhere in a world he could not see he heard screaming. A man’s voice and a woman’s voice yelling gibberish at one another for what felt like hours. Then it all went silent and he began to cry, scared.

There came a dull thump followed by a yell and crashing, the sound of smashing glass. A man said something in a harsh voice and the thump came again. And again. And again. Over and over. It began to sound wet, like someone punching a self-saucing pudding. Finally the world went silent again.

He was very afraid now and wanted to get out of here. A strong feeling of deja vu swept over him and he almost saw…what? Red? He started to pull himself towards the door. God! Why was it so hard to move here? Inspiration struck him and he pulled his legs up under his belly and began to wobbly crawl towards the door. Slowly but surely he passed the threshold and pounded back into his own body.

His vision cleared. Looking into the room with the blue rug. The toy boxes, the bed, the teddies. “I’m a baby in there” he whispered to himself. Shocked he had not realised it sooner. When the woman spoke he didn’t understand, save for a few words. She picked him up and carried him on her hip…that world beyond the door blurred the lines in his mind and now he realised that, what was true in there was the only truth. He didn’t realise earlier because in there, it was normal, it was reality.

Then it finally registered to him that the door was still open. All the others had closed as soon as he left them. Why was this different?

He looked left and came face to face with himself. Startled he jumped back with a cry. Arms wrapped around his chest and held him. He struggled, kicking and squirming but the arms about him seemed made of steel.

“Quit it,” the person behind him spoke in his voice and he sagged like limp spaghetti. The arms about him held him in place.

The Him in front of him spoke now. It made his head spin to see himself standing there talking in his voice.                                                                                     “You have to go back in there. It’s not over.”                “What is this place?” he asked Himself. As a response the Him just reached forward and tapped his forehead. And before he knew what was happening he was launched through the air and back into the room with the blue rug.

Footsteps came echoing down a hall he could not see and the figure of the woman walking towards him though wall appeared again. It was still hard to look at, someone walking towards him from within a flat surface.

She stepped across the threshold and leapt into perfect clarity, he saw she was crying. This agitated him and he began to whimper like a sad puppy.

“Oh no, don’t cry,” she crooned at him while hastily wiping her eyes.                                                                  “Come. Come,” she bent and picked him up “Eh O to eh Park,” he felt excitement bubbling at the only word in that sentence he knew. He loved going outside and had learned to associate “park” with sunshine and outdoors.  She started heading towards the door with him on her hip. In a small corner of his mind, the small part that remained himself he tried to prepare for the jolt back into his own body.

She stepped through the door into a short hallway leading down to a set of stairs. The floors shone dark and polished. Halfway down there was a stand that had photos and fake looking flowers on it. A framed painting of a beach side shack hung on the opposite wall.                                                                       He had just enough time to be surprised before this reality swept over and became all he knew again.

Down the stairs at the end of the hall they went. An open kitchen on the left was pristine white and he cooed softly knowing that’s where ‘num nums’ were.

He vaguely noticed the splashes of red along the white bench top and up one of the white walls as something not normally there. Then it was swept from his mind as they neared the front door. He started bouncing excitedly on her hip at the thought of outside. As she opened the door he turned around and saw his dad asleep on the kitchen floor. He looked different…red. But outside beckoned and he was just a baby. His father’s smashed face never dawned on his limited knowledge or attention span.

The front door opened and a sudden white, warming light flooded over him and wrapped about him. Both him-as-baby and him-as-man felt physical sensation, a tingling that ran over the whole body as the light blocked out all vision. Slowly it faded, grew dimmer and he found himself back in the corridor looking through the open doorway at a world whizzing past. Houses passing in a blink, trees swooshing by. He experienced a brief vertigo when his mind reverted back to Him-as-baby and in his thoughts ‘PARK’ rang loud and clear, a little spark in a mind fogging over with sleep. Then the door closed softly and police warning tape began to unravel from thing air and zig zag down the door frame.

He stood staring at the faintly etched tiger on the door. Faint memories of a teddy that he carried everywhere for the first few years of his life swimming across the front of his thoughts until a soft scuffing noise caught his attention. He turned to his left and saw the two others, the Hims. One smiled maniacally, eyes wide and crazy and the other wore a dour expression.

Dour Him spoke “That’s where it started. Even if you don’t remember.”                                                                Crazy Him laughed “Did you see  his face? Hehehe haha haha heheheh.” They advanced on him, one laughing and one silent and he had no where to run, no where to go for the walls enclosed him in a box with these two apparitions. They covered him, smothered him. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t breath. He was suffocating and his vision was growing dark. ‘I’m going to die’ he thought sadly as the last of the light faded and he fell into oblivion.


Featured image found here

https://www.google.com.au/amp/s/www.pinterest.com/amp/pin/352195633330387338/

The Corridor pt1

I have been writing a short story that will come in three, possibly four parts. Here is part one, I hope you enjoy it while I finish off part two.


By Aarron Mondello

15/11/2017

Burning rush torches dimly lit the narrow corridor, sputtering and sparking in their sconces.
Dark patches of shifting shadow hung heavy in the spaces between them.
The walls, dark and dirty, seemed to stretch on forever until they met at a point far off in the distance.
But that could have been a trick the gloom played on his eyes, no corridor could be that long.
He turned to look behind him, wondering how he came to be here.
No answers did he find in the old flaking paint nor the patches of brick he saw there.
He turned back to stare back down the impossibly long hall.
For a while he just stood wracking his brain, trying to remember anything from before he found himself here.
His mind was blank, his memories empty or hiding.

From behind and around him a soft wind tickled his bare chest, coiled around his shoulders and came to rest on the back of his neck like a ghostly hand.
There was a gentle push. Not on his body but in his mind.
A compelling whisper deep in his thoughts that breezed around his consciousness and bade him walk.
So he did.
He felt oddly calm as he took those few steps in this strange place.

A dozen flat sounding steps he took. No echo of his footfalls, no little puffs of dust as his feet scuffed slowly over the black, stone floor.
A wave of vertigo swept over him. A surreal feeling crying out that he was dreaming and none of this was real.
When he reached the first torch he looked back the way he had come.
The child that still lingered in his heart was certain he would see the wall right there in front of him like he’d not moved at all. Or worse, gone and replaced by another corridor stretching on into dark oblivion.
But there was the dirty wall he had briefly examined only moments ago. Slightly darker now that he stood in the light of a torch, but no more or less than where it should be.

He turned to resume walking but as he did something caught his eye.
A door, small, dark and rotting squatted at an odd angle beneath the torch.
The planks were cracked and warped, gaps where they no longer sat flush allowed him to glimpse into the darkness behind.
He put his sweaty palm to the door and softly pushed. Surprisingly, the door opened silently and without resistance.
He stood in the doorway and stared into nothing. Looking left he saw the hallway stretching on forever, looking right that same dirty wall a short distance away.
But when he looked through the door it was though the darkness came alive and leapt out into the hallway, swallowing him, blinding him.
Cutting off his peripheral and drowning him.

But it wasn’t a complete nothing. From somewhere in the darkness came a soft rhythmic THUD-UD THUD-UD THUD-UD.
It came in pulses against his senses, vibrations in the air seemed to massage every part of him while the sound carried waves of calm which broke over the shores of a beautiful and forgotten beach and  left him feeling peaceful, relaxed.
Then the door closed without any interference from him. A hollow BOOM awoke him to where he was and he stood confused, staring at a dirty patch of soot-blackened brick, the door was gone.
For a moment he wondered about the strange door before deciding it didn’t matter.
He turned and began moving towards the next torch a short distance away.

The torch fluttered just above his head. This door looked exactly like the first one, it opened just as silently.
The same darkness leapt out to engulf him and drive his senses away with that comforting THUD-UD THUD-UD THUD-UD.
Only now there was another sound weaving itself through the gentle thud.
A constant murmur like people talking too loudly in another room. Heard but not understood, it caused unease to taint the peace he felt.
The door closed and he moved on.

Three more doors he passed that were just like the first two. Old and rotten things that hid the calming thud and the murmur that shook it.
The dirty patch of wall where he had started had faded with the distance and stood now as a slightly lighter patch of shadow surrounded by darkness back the way he had come.
He was beginning to fear this place with its dirty walls, rotten doors and perpetual sameness.
He ran to the sixth door and threw it open.
The dark.
The thud.
The murmur.
Heart pounding in his chest he took off for the seventh door and slammed it open.
The dark.
The thud.
The murmur.
His pulse thrumming in his ears he turned and sped for the eighth door.
He skidded to a halt and kicked the door. Rotten wood crumbled easily and fell to pile at his feet. A glimpse of
The dark.
The thud.
The murmur.
The thudding matched his heartbeat, the murmur ran with his pulse.
Far from relaxing now, it was maddening!

Pursued by sounds and darkness he could not explain he half ran, half stumbled towards the ninth door.
He reached it panting and sweating. Tears ran unknown his cheeks.
He shook his head trying to deny his desire to open the door but knowing he would, knowing he already was.
He opened the door and screamed, but there was only the darkness.
No thud.
No murmur.

Then the black pulsed red.
A high pitched tone suddenly split the silence, another sameness, the tone never changed, never wobbled.
Panic began to bubble in his chest, boiling, a pressure in his throat that stoped his breath.
He leaned forward.
A voice echoed off the blackness
“She’s gone. We have to get him out now.”

The darkness pulsed a painful red with each word.
His fingers scrabbled uselessly at the door handle but in his panic he couldn’t make them obey him.
The screaming tone tore at his ears and stabbed into his mind shattering all thought and memory into a million cutting shards that sliced his brain with ice.
The darkness flashed red with every beat of his heart, like a strobe light from hell, setting his eyes on fire.
His fingers finally found a purchase on the door handle and with a wordless cry he threw himself backwards, pulling the door closed with him.
The door slammed with a resounding boom that echoed off down the hall chased by a whisper
“He’s not breathing.”
Pain flared in the back of skull as his head snapped back and bounced off the wall behind him. He sunk dazed and dizzy to the floor.
The door before him slowly faded, grew transparent and finally disappeared, leaving only a cracked wall in its place.
He leaned to the side and heaved until stomach was empty.
Then sitting against the wall, chin on his chest, he sunk into a troubled sleep.

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