Something You'll Never Forget

Ah! You heard me! It's been so long since I’ve spoken to someone. Now that you’re finally here, let me tell you a story. Something you’ll never forget…

It was late one afternoon, on a day not unlike today when much like you, my curiosity brought me here. Once inside, I found myself at the foot of a fantastic staircase. Outside, the setting sun hung low in the sky, casting its orange brilliance into the foyer through the open door. Each step, illuminated with sunlight, lay in sharp contrast to the blackened shadows of the banister. Alone I stood, gazing in certain awe at the vivid beauty of color and form before me. For some reason, even now unknown to me, I started up the staircase. It was as if I was being called by something far deeper than my ears could hear. 

When I reached the top, to my left and almost immediately behind me, I noticed a narrow wooden door hidden in a small alcove quite obscured from direct view. But for its ornately cast handle, the door was ordinary enough. Coiled around the grasp as if waiting to strike the hand of the opener, on the tip of the handle, protruded the head of a bronze serpent. It struck me as odd and quite impractical, this ill-placed snake head. My thoughts drifted in their query as the snake's eyes sparkled, tempting me to grab the handle. Though everything still shone bright, when I reached to open the door, a heavy shadow descended upon me. The air grew cold, and the hair on my nape began to tingle. Still setting, its rays now deep red, the weary sun waned, hanging like a tired eye awaiting the dark of night before slipping off into peaceful slumber. I gripped the handle, only half expecting the tiny prick in the palm of my hand from the coiled serpent. Had it bitten me? Surprised, I recoiled and looked at my palm, but saw no puncture. 

The shadows grew heavier as a foreboding feeling of dread came over me, which at the moment kept me from opening the door for this moment. Yet, something was still calling me from within. I wasn’t sure if I felt it, heard it, or if it was just in my mind. 

My curiosity and wonder, supported by my suspension of disbelief, convinced me that even if something awful awaited me on the other side of this narrow portal, I had to know what it was. My mind flooded with intense desire, an almost uncontrollable urge to open the door. I knew I would experience a cathartic release if I just opened it and entered. Again, I heard or felt something calling me, unintelligible, but getting clearer the closer I came.  

I don’t remember how long I stood there staring at the door, touching the handle, and collecting the strange essence from within. Still, the sun was setting, and the staircase remained bright. Everything smiled. I feared though, it may be the smile of a stealthy predator just before it pounces upon its unsuspecting prey.

With only slight downward pressure, the latch clicked. I pushed gently, opening a small crack, and backed away. Like the vacuum of a deep ocean chasm, it opened, sucking in the light and air before me. My mind raced with fantasies about what was going on in the room, and what might be waiting for me there. For a moment I feared something from within would jump out, thrust its grisly claws around my throat, and squeeze the life out of me. In my better awareness, surely it was an irrational fear, but my body didn't seem to know the difference. As the thoughts came, I felt the teeth and talons of some ancient inhuman beast rip and tear into my skin. It’s terrible, how the mind will tell the poor unsuspecting body what is going on, even when it isn’t—isn’t it?

I pushed, and the door slowly creaked open. Nothing happened. I was relieved. The terror of my fear slipped back into the unmanifest. Still peering into the breach, I built up the courage to enter, though only partially, and not without trepidation. 

I had no real reason to enter, other than the strange beckoning from within, and to learn if it was indeed a voice I heard calling. The moment the door opened, however coincidental, or not, all the brightness on the staircase dissolved and became a bleak sea of pale blue light. Like a rolling fog, it spilled out of the room and engulfed the floor, tumbling down the stairs behind me and spreading up the walls of the hallway. After much hesitation and effort to assuage my fear with rational thought, I decided to enter. 

From the doorway, I could see the entire room. To my surprise, it was empty but for a large ornately carved dark wood wardrobe, with a small toy rocking chair set to its left. Because of its size, the wardrobe wouldn't fit along any one wall, and so was wedged in the far corner at a forty-five-degree angle. The only space not visible to me from where I stood was the hidden triangular area behind the wardrobe. I would have to climb up and over the top of it to find out what, if anything, was there. And strangely, I wanted to. I thought I heard a voice, still calling to me. 

“Is anyone there? Are you ok?” I said aloud, stepping across the threshold. 

Still, the beckoning sensation tingled in my body. No longer subtle, it burned in my veins. It was an irresistible carnal urge, changing inside me. I completely entered the room. My curiosity, again, overwhelmed my sense of foreboding. I thought I'll leave the door open slightly so should something go wrong, I can escape.

A strange presence began to make itself known. It was nothing tangible, yet I could feel it was there. Like a burning urge, just above my groin and just below my belly. It was then, with certainty, I first heard the sensation as a voice, though it was still not clear. 

I’m not the only one in this room, I thought. I knew. Whoever, or whatever, was in this room, had to be in the hidden corner behind the wardrobe. 

“Are you there?” I said, hoping for no reply.

Ever so faintly, distant in my mind, I heard a soft voice whispering something unintelligible. Something sounding like an ancient rhyme. Vaguely familiar but unidentifiable. The sensation had now become more than somatic. I could hear it—in my ear. Whatever was behind the wardrobe, began to feel inextricably linked to me, and somehow, the closer I got to it the more entwined with it I would become. Fear and anticipation fed the need to find out what was calling to me and what it was saying. At the same time, I knew the reason to discover it was not my own. An intense desire from within the room, in the form of what I knew not, was overtaking me, pulling me closer and calling me to find it.

I knew once I climbed up and over the wardrobe, all my wonders and worries would be satisfied. My common sense was overrun by an irrational state of paranoia making me feel that not climbing over the wardrobe would be a mistake. I feared I would never shake this terrible feeling until I did. Was it some sort of metaphysical aura or cosmic intelligence dictating my every move ever since I found myself at the doorway to this flat? Whatever it was, it would not allow me to leave.

I stood there in the pale blue light, quietly fearful, hoping myself unseen, yet feeling the hungry eyes of an invisible predator upon me. I wanted to run. To my right was a skylight on the vaulted ceiling. Clouds, colored by the almost completely set sun, drifted slowly by, so vivid, it was like they had been cut from a magazine and pasted onto the sky. There was no way out through that skylight, and even if I was able to get out, to where would I run? And from what would I be running?

Finally, realizing there was not much hope in further resistance, the only choice I had was to try to discover what unknown fate waited for me in that small corner behind the wardrobe. In silence, the pale blue light turned stygian grey, filling me with a momentary gut-wrenching pain, accompanied by a loathsome stench. Never had I been so offended by an odor. I was sure only the most baleful and hideous thing could emit such a scent. Though the silence almost convinced me I was alone, the chill in my spine said otherwise. I was confused and uncertain when I reached for the top of the wardrobe. There was scarcely anything I could hold to pull myself up. Though with enough negotiation, I was finally able to grip one of the ornate wooden heads carved along the top corners. 

After I pulled myself to the top, the world began to spin. White and black lightning flashed before my eyes. My grip loosened. I felt faint. The beckoning calls were so strong and loud, so powerful, they overcame my restraint. The room spun around as the bleak grey atmosphere overwhelmed me. Blacking out, I fell to the floor.

Everything was still spinning around me when I woke. Out of the whirlwind of returning consciousness, again came the overwhelming call, now in a more visceral way. It bade me to follow it further. I had an awful feeling of disgust and a terrible taste in my mouth as if I had swallowed rancid milk. The room's pale white walls and blue-grey bleakness now felt even more confining. I don't know, or I mean, I'm not sure, if I ever really woke. Someone once told me, if I wanted to test whether I was awake or dreaming, I should look at my hands or feet, and If I could see them it meant I was awake. I’m not sure if this is true, but having no other way to know, I checked. Looking down, I saw my hands and feet, which was at once a relief but also magnified my sense of dread. 

"This isn’t a dream..." I said out loud to no one.

Again I climbed to the top of the wardrobe and pulled myself toward the back edge. Though my legs dangled over the front, I was close enough to peer down into the hidden space behind it. After much hesitation and irrational negotiation, I finally gained the courage to look. My eyes strained to see in the dim grey light.

There on the floor, some seven feet below, with arms spread wide and a look of innocent loneliness on its cherub-like face, lay an antique porcelain doll. It was wearing a simple cotton nightgown adorned with the sometimes smiling and sometimes frowning, embroidered faces of little boys and girls. Though the light in the room was fading, I could see the doll’s sweet face. Its glassy, vacant eyes stared up at me. I felt relieved and thought how foolish I was to be afraid of a toy. I chuckled, and suddenly from nowhere, in a voice familiar but not my own, came the thought, "It’s been so long… you’re finally here…”But that’s all I could make out.

It was then I realized I was not alone. Though its mouth didn’t move, the voice I heard was coming from the doll. Or was it? How could it? It was as if I was speaking to myself in a voice other than my own. It was the voice that had been beckoning me all along, only now it was coming from within me! I shook my head hoping to clear my thoughts, but the voice wouldn’t stop. I could feel something pressing inside my head, pushing me aside, and pulling away the thoughts and memories that are me. Our gaze locked. I looked down at the doll. Its glassy black eyes, no longer vacant, now glared up at me with hungry anticipation. The little embroidered faces on its nightgown began to writhe, transforming into visages of torment and terror. I could finally make out what it was saying.

“Now that you’re finally here, let me tell you a story. Something you’ll never forget.”

As it spoke, once again I became dizzy, desperately flailing, grasping only thin air. It was a most horrible sensation—feeling myself being pushed out of my body and over the edge of the wardrobe. I fell, backward to the floor, but could see myself above, still laying atop the wardrobe. I was looking up as my arms flailed about for something solid to grab onto. My vision began to fade to black. I felt the terrifying rush of freefalling, like in a nightmare. The voice, hypnotic and captivating, was pulling me low, into the deepest recesses of unconsciousness. I could still hear it speaking as I fell ever deeper into a timeless drift of blackness and fear. I never did feel myself hit the floor.

I don’t know how long I was adrift, but when I woke, strange sensations came over me as I tried to move my hands and feet. The command to move them had left my brain but never arrived in my limbs. These phantom sensations left me after a few panic-stricken moments, and I felt nothing. I tried to look around but was unable to move. All I could see was a blue-grey haze, blinding me until my eyes began to clear. I thought to make my arms flail from side to side, but they did not move. I could sense, but not feel them, because it was only happening in my mind. There I lay, trapped, and struggling to escape this invisible restraint. I couldn’t even blink. 

I lay there, helplessly paralyzed, watching a familiar shape emerge from the blue-grey haze above me. To my horror, it was me! How could this be? I was witnessing myself—no, my body—and whatever possessed it, still perched atop the wardrobe glaring down at me, soulless and satisfied—the look a spider has after capturing a fly. 

“Wait!” I shouted silently. Its eyes—I mean—my eyes narrowed. With one final look and a sinister grin, I, but not me, disappeared back over the top of the wardrobe. The last sounds I heard until now when you came along, were that of feet dropping to the floor on the other side of the wardrobe, followed by a chilling giggle as the door to the room clicked softly shut. Then, only silence. 

I kept trying to move but was unable. Again, I screamed, but nothing. I couldn’t shut my eyes or shift my gaze at all. Nor could I see my hands or feet. I knew this was no dream, and worse yet, it wasn’t even a nightmare—it happened. The only thing I could see was the ceiling, far above me. The walls and edge of the wardrobe from which I had fallen loomed above like the towering unscalable walls of a freshly dug grave. What remained of the blue-grey light had finally faded into blackness as I lay there. Unable to speak or move for what seemed like forever, I let out scream after silent scream calling to anyone who would hear. Eventually, my screams became whispers, and finally, nothing but a soft beckoning call. A sensation traveling in the ether, much farther than the ear can hear, not heard, but felt, and not by many, but by you. 

As I told you earlier, it’s been so long since I’ve spoken to someone. At first, I wasn’t sure if my better nature would keep me from telling you this story. But alas, it has not, and now that you’ve heard it, like me, it’s something you’ll never forget. But don’t worry, the blue-grey fog clouding your vision will soon clear, and you’ll have one last glimpse of yourself before I go. That’s just how it works. That dizzy feeling you have is only temporary, and when you fall, I promise it won’t hurt. Soon, you’ll no longer feel anything at all.