MystyrMystyry
04-18-2011, 09:20 PM
I wake in a house without doors and windows - a house I am certain I've never been in before.
On the kitchen table lay a note - though barely legible, the paper is yellowed with age and the ancient ink seems to have chipped away in parts. I pick it up to bring it closer the light but it crumbles to smoky dust.
Where the air was still and a little musty before my movement it is now full of glittering motes from the interaction of destruction.
I see a dull glass cabinet and walk toward it - helplessly at first, but as I draw near the further away it appears to move, though there is no shift in perspective.
I hear a knock on a door but there simply isn't one to answer - so I don't - because I can't.
There is an old tattered newspaper on the coffee table in the ante-room which I try to read, but this is another language - almost like symbolic cuniform.
It does contain images of a local nature however, and I am compelled to open the sheets, gingerly of course due to not wishing the same fate as the note to befall the only other clue to my predicament.
I feel something, a presence, behind me - it is the glass cabinet which has shifted from the other side of the room to this. It's a foreboding sensation, ominous.
I stand from the sofa I let myself fall into and back away - somehow curiously it doesn't follow - and I continue back into the kitchen, looking through the cupboards.
Old tins of food and soup and bottled sauce there are - the usual culprits - but again the labels indistinguishable from gibberish.
What country I wonder aloud - then it strikes me that I must have been drugged and swept away in the night - except I hadn't been out...
Perhaps they broke in while I slept and administered - no needle marks, no discomfort - forget it, that's the wrong line of enquiry.
I start hitting the walls, trying to find a soft spot, all the while looking at the light above, knowing that a knife may be needed to dig myself out of this abnomally.
There is no difference in solidity - all corners are as apparently solid as each other, so I go to get the knife.
Empty drawer - slam, empty drawer - slam, empty drawer - slam!
Okay so what is this?
Hidden cameras - a punk prank - it's got to be!
There are probably a thousand well angled micro-cameras hidden around the house and - drop that - I can't see them - wouldn't even know what they look like or what to look for.
So I make towards the sofa where I'm going to lie down and meditate until they realise I'm not playing.
I'm actually tired anyway - and this mind game isn't helping - I pull a pen from my pocket, and write deep in my shoe:
I Know this is a ruse so I'm not going to bother entertaining you - and the time (7 am)
I don't know why I felt the need to do that - just as a mark of proof when they finally burst into the room and try to surprise me. That'll teach them.
I do manange to go to sleep after a bit of a self mind-puzzle where in which I imagine all of the letters of the alphabet on blocks and then begin to mentally stack them so they form a perfect equilateral triangle.
Well after a few hours of deep rest I again wake up - now a new sensation - I am being watched, I know it, but from where?
It's something to do with that glass cabinet - it has to be!
I kick it - okay - so I can touch it, but can I open it? I mean I could easily smash the glass, but apart from being dusty, it really isn't too shabby a piece of furniture.
'What's going on here?' I ask it 'The game's up!'
No reply - not that I seriously expected one.
'He seems to know we're watching him...'
'They all suspect that at the beginning - it soon passes...'
On the kitchen table lay a note - though barely legible, the paper is yellowed with age and the ancient ink seems to have chipped away in parts. I pick it up to bring it closer the light but it crumbles to smoky dust.
Where the air was still and a little musty before my movement it is now full of glittering motes from the interaction of destruction.
I see a dull glass cabinet and walk toward it - helplessly at first, but as I draw near the further away it appears to move, though there is no shift in perspective.
I hear a knock on a door but there simply isn't one to answer - so I don't - because I can't.
There is an old tattered newspaper on the coffee table in the ante-room which I try to read, but this is another language - almost like symbolic cuniform.
It does contain images of a local nature however, and I am compelled to open the sheets, gingerly of course due to not wishing the same fate as the note to befall the only other clue to my predicament.
I feel something, a presence, behind me - it is the glass cabinet which has shifted from the other side of the room to this. It's a foreboding sensation, ominous.
I stand from the sofa I let myself fall into and back away - somehow curiously it doesn't follow - and I continue back into the kitchen, looking through the cupboards.
Old tins of food and soup and bottled sauce there are - the usual culprits - but again the labels indistinguishable from gibberish.
What country I wonder aloud - then it strikes me that I must have been drugged and swept away in the night - except I hadn't been out...
Perhaps they broke in while I slept and administered - no needle marks, no discomfort - forget it, that's the wrong line of enquiry.
I start hitting the walls, trying to find a soft spot, all the while looking at the light above, knowing that a knife may be needed to dig myself out of this abnomally.
There is no difference in solidity - all corners are as apparently solid as each other, so I go to get the knife.
Empty drawer - slam, empty drawer - slam, empty drawer - slam!
Okay so what is this?
Hidden cameras - a punk prank - it's got to be!
There are probably a thousand well angled micro-cameras hidden around the house and - drop that - I can't see them - wouldn't even know what they look like or what to look for.
So I make towards the sofa where I'm going to lie down and meditate until they realise I'm not playing.
I'm actually tired anyway - and this mind game isn't helping - I pull a pen from my pocket, and write deep in my shoe:
I Know this is a ruse so I'm not going to bother entertaining you - and the time (7 am)
I don't know why I felt the need to do that - just as a mark of proof when they finally burst into the room and try to surprise me. That'll teach them.
I do manange to go to sleep after a bit of a self mind-puzzle where in which I imagine all of the letters of the alphabet on blocks and then begin to mentally stack them so they form a perfect equilateral triangle.
Well after a few hours of deep rest I again wake up - now a new sensation - I am being watched, I know it, but from where?
It's something to do with that glass cabinet - it has to be!
I kick it - okay - so I can touch it, but can I open it? I mean I could easily smash the glass, but apart from being dusty, it really isn't too shabby a piece of furniture.
'What's going on here?' I ask it 'The game's up!'
No reply - not that I seriously expected one.
'He seems to know we're watching him...'
'They all suspect that at the beginning - it soon passes...'