III. Player One Isn’t Quite Ready
There was a resounding thump as the door closed behind me and a fairywind kind of a whirling sound as it disappeared behind me.
I was standing in a room that seemed familiar to me in many ways but not in any kind of way that would have been useful. As in, a way that would tell me where I was. I wasn’t in my bathroom anymore and certainly wasn’t in the dimension of nothingness that I had just walked out of.
I was in a barren space with eggshell color walls and a carpet to match. There was no furniture, no signs, no posters on the walls, no signs of life. Only a large room with orange-tinted fluorescent lighting shining high above from a ceiling I couldn’t make out. There was a wavering hum permeating throughout the space at an odd frequency, no doubt emanating from the lights above.
“Where am I?” I asked aloud. No response. “Umm…hello?”
Where was that specter that I had encountered earlier in the mirror? It been awfully chatty since it had first shown up. Now, the lack of response was deafening, making the humming frequency seem even louder than it had before.
My history has shown that staying in one place for too long can be detrimental but there was no indication that anything had heard me. I walked around for a while, trying to gauge the volume of the space I was in.
And by that I mean, my face smashing into a solid surface.
With nothing around me, I had no sense of object permanence.
I went from walking along to a “Falcon Punch!” strike-like blunt force to the nose sent me falling to my ass from an invisible force, as if i were a character from a rudimentary 3D platform game from the early 1990s running into the borders of the land that the game developers created.
Typical, isn’t it? To be forced to participate in something that I didn’t agree to by a being I don’t really know because of the threat of what could happen if I didn’t listen.
It’s hard to say how long I was walking around trying to find something, anything. Could have been hours, days, months, even years. Maybe only a few minutes. The passage of time feels a lot different when there’s no point of reference.
All I can remember is my feet hurting. And wet, from either sweat or blood. My eyelids were heavy and my breath inconsistent.
The eggshell walls around me began to cracm, flaking away, falling below my feet into the nothingness. All I could do was watch.
And I watched as the nothingness transformed into something. Something, an area that I could recognize.
A place in time that I had believed I had completely forgotten.
And wish I had.