The Second Night: At The End Of The Hallway
Her words tickled my ears like a whisper in the wind. Faint and distant, I had no way of determining the sincerity in her plea.
“Where am I?”
Where is she? Where am I? This place is so dark—so lonesome. I feel myself being drawn to her. I must find her.
“Please, come to me.”
She’s closer now. If I follow the sound of her voice I can get to her. Her words can guide me through the darkness like the welcoming beam of a lighthouse.
A flash and everything is illuminated. I’m standing in a hallway. There are no doors lining the bland cantaloupe rind colored walls. I’m standing on a lime green rug which stretches on with no end in sight. I turn around only to face a solid wall. Wherever I had entered from is now gone. How is this possible?
“You’re so close.”
I turn and I know she’s there—just out of sight at the end of the hall. I must run to her before she leaves. But the rug—the walls—they just keeping stretching on and on. No matter how fast I run there is no end in sight. The walls pass by me with rapid succession, but I make no forward progress. It’s as if I’m a hamster on a wheel.
“Don’t you want me?”
A tinge of fear stabs my chest. I can’t breathe and my legs are on fire. I must stop running. But if I lose her—
“You’ll never see me again.”
Her words are tainted with resentment. I did my best but I couldn’t get to her in time. No matter how fast I ran I couldn’t catch up to her. Why couldn’t I get to her?
The lights go off and I’m returned to the darkness. This time she isn’t there to guide me into the light. I am alone.