Author: Emma Lou

Posted on

XIV

As the door swings shut behind me

It’s click shut

Means nothing to me

The very air I breath is over bright with pigment

Otherworldly colors and shades

Are so sharp to my eyes

That they make my vision tired

How pretty are they, though

That I would never wish to look away from them

My steps, drawn toward the middle

Though I do not know the scope or scale of this place

For it all at once feels vast, worldly

A strange planet drifting in the stars . . .

Carrying me a . . … w . .. . a . . . y . . . .

Yet every step feels focused

Like the world is rendering around my being

Only as I choose to move forward in it

Vast ranges of colors

Begin to move

What might be plants and small creatures

Change the landscape in the moments that I try to look at it

I hear a ring

But in that moment

Something else catches my eye

A streak of magenta off to my right

And I turn toward it instead

A weight then begins to form on my hip

Half thinking, my hand moves toward it

And finds purchase on an object in front of me

A stone, a branch, a creature’s face

It matters not what it is

For I let it take me

And I look

Posted on

XIII

The breeze whispers to make me forget my fear

Fears of this place

Of it

Because while it wants me to stay

I want to run

Away, away, away

Yet when I look toward the doors

Warmed and brown

Draped over with green vines

I remember that I have no place left to run to

For my hearth has grown cold of me

Once loving arms

Now a fearful embrace

When the red mark around my neck remained

And I was unable to tell them where it came from

For in the light of an injury unexplainable

I was made an outcast

No longer would my family

See me

They now saw only what they thought was my mania

So I’ll stay here

Where it knows I’ll keep coming back

No matter how many times it watches me burn

It is the only family I left

This place, this wonder, these dreams

I am terrified of it

Yet I stay

Posted on

XII

My dress was clean

Flowers grew

The checker floor, polished and clean

Apologize, to me?

No

I was angry, & scared

It was going to take more than that

To make up for the nightmare that nearly

Killed me

I ran straight for ‘reality’

However broken,

It was still better, then

And I didn’t sleep at all that night

Posted on

XI

When I bolt up, in my bed

Choking

From a metal chord

Being pulled around my neck

I am finally able to scream

Into the dark

This time the footsteps

Are from my family, running

Posted on

X

It was so dark,

So quiet

I was afraid to move

I could feel it

Something, was there

In the dark

Waiting for me

I take, one step

And the whisper of the dust on my skin

Makes the loudest sound

. . . I move my foot again

And something starts running across the floor

Up above me

On the second floor

Back & forth

Back & forth

Like a child taken by the dark

When it stops . . .

It’s a quiet as Death again

. . . I can hear breathing now

Only . . .

I can’t tell if it’s mine or not

I hadn’t heard anything come down the stairs

But what if,

It did?

My foot bumps into something

It rolls, just barley,

across the floor

I reach out & grab for it

In my hands, I can feel what it is

A flashlight

I stand, a statue, of fear

Do I really want to turn it on?

And then, just then, I could be sure

That breathing,

–that heavy, struggling, breathing–

was no longer mine

I run blindly into the dark

Tripping, nearly, over broken floor boards

C r a s H i n g into walls

Fighting to get the flashlight on

But never to look behind me

All the while

Footsteps chasing me

It had come down the stairs

Suddenly, I f a l l

Down,

d o w n

Stairs? I wonder

A trap door in the floor?

I am unable to scream

As I go deeper into the dark

When I hit the floor

I lose grip on the flashlight

It finally flickers on

As it rolls away

My vision blurry from hitting my head

It illuminates horror

Where those old bodies?

Dead bodies?

The footsteps come running down the stairs

The loudest sound I’ve ever heard

I cried out, silently

For I knew I would be joining them

Posted on

IX

I wake up in a field in the dark

Of grass & weeds & uneven dirt clumps

The air is freezing, piercing

I am still in my once while dress

Only now it’s truly torn at the bottom

As if by claws

All alone

In the middle of nowhere

With only a house in front of me

I see nowhere else to go

But toward it

A few dead trees stand on either side

As I crunch over the seething ground

The warm glow of the yellow light above it’s door

Getting closer & closer to me

It looked inviting

Just a little house

All on it’s own

But it felt sinister

On the inside

It wasn’t out here, in a dark field

To get away from people

It was a moth light

Drawing bugs in to get rid of them

And I was a moth

My feet s c r a t c h e d

I step onto the splintering steps

I stop & look behind me

Wondering then if I should risk it

Run straight back out into the dark, e n d l e s s field

But my breath turns to fog

It’s too cold

I’d freeze to death

All alone, in a dark field

I stare back at the door

Which would be safer?

And then I watch as I reach my hand out

Turning the knob

Almost against my will

As it opens, & I step into the dark

I know I won’t be able

To get that door open again

Posted on

VIII

My eyes open s l o w l y, softy

I am in my own bed

None of the pain is there

The cut is gone

I am calm

And I am safe

Looking over at my clock

It tells me, that it is the middle of the night

And I know I won’t fall asleep again

That I will lose rest

Because that’s what happens

When I choose ‘reality’

I get stuck with it

‘Till the next night comes

And I can fall asleep again

Posted on

VII

I stand before the same two doors again

This time instead of a comfortable dream

They frighten me

Bulging out of their door frames

The walls are c r a c k i n g

The sky the darkest shade of gray

I begin to hear voices

I throw my hands over my ears

Refusing to listen to them

Over painfully cold tiles

Avoiding the │c │r │a │c │k │s│

I run toward ‘reality’

Before it can block the way

This is what I get

For jumping to avoid it’s nightmare

This place was angry

For being forced to alter it’s course

But if I could only make it to the door in time

Past the black tendrils & vines

Ignore the voices

The pain in my feet

The razor sharp wind

See through the b•l•a•c•k spots & fºlºaºsºhºeºs in my eyes

Then I could get there

I could escape one more time

And then everything would be ok again

I crash into the door

And it splinters into my arm

It’s sign c l a t t e r s broken to the ground

Next to me, the door to ‘dreams’

Or nightmares

Bursts open

And is trying to suck me in

I have no choice but to take my hands off my ears

To grasp the handle of ‘reality’

The voices’ whispers

Sound like screams

Banging around the inside of my skull

Seeping into my unconscious body

And it hurts

I cry . . .

Right before I lose my footing

I turn the handle to ‘reality’

Cutting my hand

And f a l l t h r o u g h

Posted on

VI

Cobwebs cling inside the cracks of a few walls

Creating a line, a rope for me to follow

So I do

I step over sideways chairs, piles of dusty rags

I ignore the other doorways

Some o p e n ,

some closed

I refuse to look into them

Because they might try to pull me away

Off the path I was following

Or there might be a broken doll

Looking at me from the bed

(whether to save or, to harm, is irrelevant)

p

u

The webs in the cracks lead me

To the third floor

And a dead-end hall

At the very end, in the dark, blue-black light

Coming from walls with no windows

The door stood waiting for me

Made out of strange, fake? material

It didn’t look scary

Alone, but not lonely

A happy introvert in the quiet

Glad for a silent friend

Like me

When I put the key in

And turned the lock

Stepping over the threshold

I felt like I just walked into my own room

All alone in the middle of the floor

Surrounded by cracked walls

In a room void of dust

Sat a small, metal box

Behind it, a window

It glistens brightly

In the green-blue light of the room’s shadows

My bare feet silently cross the floor

And I rested my hands on the lid of the box

There was no shock

Or other strange sensation

It opened . . . e a s i l y

With no lock, or even a sound

They only thing laying inside

A, empty silver key ring

I took it, & though it felt cold, still, nothing happened

I was warry

It all seemed too simple

But I couldn’t stay still

When I turned to leave

I found a closed door

And I though I tried, I couldn’t get the handle to move

It had trapped me in here

I had already been in there too long, it seemed

Though hard to tell

As each place is different

I could see the walls beginning to crack

Black lines breaking through the seems

I had to get out

Can I break down the door?

NO

The walls are closing in

How could it have done this on purpose?

Why?

It wanted? me to get hurt

I was angry at it, then

How dare it

So as the room closed in, cracking around me

I opened the window– the one, outside, window

Stood up on the window sill

Looked down at the ground

Black asphalt three stories

below me

And back at the room turning to black tendrils behind me

I wasn’t falling into a nightmare tonight

I would fall to the ground first

If it wanted to keep me

It was going to have to catch me

Because I was going to avoid a nightmare

At all costs

I l e t g o of the window

And I was falling again

The sound of the man’s singing

Could no longer be heard

The rattling air conditioner

Had gone silent

I was all alone

With nothing but it to see me

As I hit hard, against the cold asphalt

Or, to save me

I felt everything s l o w,

suddenly

And I could hear myself take one, solitary, labored breath

Before it was all gone

It saved me

But now it was angry

Posted on

V

The asphalt feels d u s t y & r o u g h

My footsteps are silent . . .

I feel like I’m sneaking up on the place

And maybe I am

Or on whoever is in it

I can’t quite tell

I stand next to an old air conditioner

It’s rattles and clanks too loud

And I stare at a metal door

With a ( ) where a handle should be

Door, after door, after gate, after passageway, after door

There are so many new lines to step across

Yet always something ███████ the view

Of what’s on the other side

Already exhausted by what I will find

I push the door open

And step inside

He is singing

And I’m listening

And I just stand there in the dark hallway,

listening

As the singing keeps getting louder & louder

He’s coming closer

I stay where I am

And I can hear his footsteps now

The nails in the floorboards

C r e a k in protest to his weight

But, he never comes around the corner

The walls keep me hidden yet . . .

But I can’t stand still forever

So I walk along the line of the gray shadows

Leaving behind history in the dust

And I’m far too small, too light

For the nails to be bothered with me

So he never hears me coming

Over a broken chair, over the spider web net, past a crack in the wall

And he never thinks to look behind him

He never thinks to turn around

To see a thin girl in a white dress

Peering around a corner at him

From her place of darkness

Into his place of light

He stands behind a counter

His island in this a sea of the broken, empty, dirty room

Putting money into an empty, ancient cash register, and closing the drawer

And then, taking it out again

And counting it

Then putting it back in, & closing the drawer

(And again, and again)

And he still sang, the whole time

A lonely hum in a language I do not understand

A song sang by a broken man

I let him walk back down the hall

Wondering if he could hear the nails in the floorboards creak

Or if to him, they were footsteps

Of dead people, now lost in the dark

Alone again, with warm neon above me

Casting light onto the floor

I decide to step out into it

One foot, slipping out slowly from the shadows, at a time

It glared at me, for a moment

But then it decided that I could be trusted

I felt it’s sting draw back from my skin

And I felt comfortable, again

But not safe

My right hand reaches out

To the boxes on the wall behind the counter

All numbered

One for each room

Some still containing faded letters

Never opened, never read . . .

In only one does there lie a key

Golden numbers, on a red leather tag

Say ’47’

‘Do you want me to find something?’ I wonder

Grabbing the dusty metal, moving forward

I look down the dark blue hallway

And step back into the dark

Where is room 47?

What might be inside it?

I grip the key and decide to find out