PUBLISHED IN SEPT.2023

By J. D. Lair

There is a faint light spilling through a cracked open door on the other side of the room. Everything else is dark around you. It smells of old dust with a hint of iron and the ground is cold against your bare back. A deep silence permeates the space, a quiet that echoes the white noise in the small spaces of your ears.

As you sit up, you realize you are not bound by anything. Your memory is blank with no clue of where you are or how you came to be here. A shadow passes over the light in the doorway and your skin prickles all over. *A malfunction of the light source, or am I not alone?* you think to yourself.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

Nothing. You raise yourself off the floor and peer through the doorway. Outside is a dimly lit hallway, the light coming from a faraway window. You pass through the door and the hinges squeal from timeless neglect. The floor out here feels slick and angled at a sharp degree toward the light. From your limited vision, it appears yours is the sole door in this dreary enclosure. You tread towards the light with the utmost caution, skating like a newborn deer desperate to keep your balance.

It ends in a wall of rough-hewn stone. The window sits high above you and you cut your arms straining to reach it. A glance at the floor reveals it is crimson stained. Scars like intricate tapestries run the length of your body. Several scabs are in various stages of healing and you realize you have tried this before.

*How many times? How long have I been here?*

You look up again and see streaks on the glass. The light outside begins to fade, but you feel hope blooming inside. Success has been within reach before so you believe you could do it again. A resolve to continue trying builds up within you. An echo at the base of your brain suggests trying the other two walls. You reach out to discover they are smooth and closer together than expected. It's as if the hallway narrowed as you ascended, so you decide to use it to your advantage.

With your feet wedged on opposite walls, you reach out your hands for stability. Though the rough wall hurts your hands, it provides a better means of grip. Your feet scream with burning sensations as the scars upon them stretch to their limit. Scabs from all extremities begin to weep, as do your eyes. Thoughts of escape supersede the instincts of avoiding pain and you begin to climb. The walls start growing slick beneath your grasp, so you pick up the pace. *Right hand, left hand. Right foot, left foot.* Soon, and with much effort, you reach your desired destination. Your haggard breath fogs up the window before your face.

It's hard to tell through the condensation, but the outside looks desolate. *Is it tundra or desert out there?* Distracted, you begin to slide a bit. You readjust your body so both feet are on one wall and your shoulder blades wedge into the other. This frees up your hands to search for a latch or other means of opening the window. The walls have grown tacky now, a blessing.

A good shove from your right elbow loosens the frame's grip on the pane. The glass is thicker than expected, like an airplane window from a distant, foggy memory. Some jostling sets it free and it falls to the ground outside with a muffled thud. You wiggle and squirm through the opening eager to be free from your cell. At last, you tumble to the ground not far below and lay there heaving, grateful for newfound success. Tears from your eyes water the lustful terrain of this barren wasteland.

The window you escaped from appears to be the only anomaly as far as your eyes can see in every direction you turn. A shimmer of light grabs your attention. As you walk in its direction, scarlet footprints are left in your wake. With the setting sun beating on your back, you notice a severe lack of wind. The atmosphere itself feels off, almost like wading through static.

After walking for what seems like an hour, you do not feel any closer to your destination. When you turn around to look back at your cell, it is out of sight and your footprints trace back into the distance. You note they are no longer red, so you choose to continue forward. The sun goes dark for a brief moment like a blink in time. *That was odd. Did the sky wink at me?*

What seemed to be a glimmer of hope turned out to be another lone window in the middle of nowhere. This window stands halfway up a large dune looking down at you. As you walk up to it, you see what appears to be writing on it. When you get closer, it is evident the word *HELP!* is smeared on the inside of the window.

Compassion moves you to run the rest of the way up. Knocking on the window and shouting to whoever is stuck inside proves unfruitful. Try as you might, the window does not budge.

A loud crash interrupts your persistent knocking and silences your yelling. Startled, you tumble back a few feet, then realize there is a body crumpled against the window. Their neck is twisted at an impossible angle and their vacant eyes stare at you, hopeless. One of their forearms smudged away part of the message on impact. The round part of the *P* is now missing. Your mouth agape and eyes wide in horror, *Am I in hell?*

A splinter of glass falls from above almost stabbing you. The distinct feeling of someone watching you causes your stomach to roil. Picking up the shard in your hand, thoughts of suicide run rampant. *Can I even die here? They seem dead to me.*

When you look back up, the body is gone, then everything goes dark.