The Community

White marble is the coldest when you know you're approaching the afterlife. With each careless pull on my body, the sharp floor sent a piercing pain through my skull. Splashes and spurts of red garnish its pure perfection. You appreciate a moment that dances like the wind and evaporates in an instant. Particularly when that moment is being pried from weak fingertips. And at that moment, the contrast of my blood was almost satisfying. In hopes, this nightmare will be over soon. Then, maybe they will finally bury me. Who will my soul belong to when it's all over? I can't muster up another thought beyond: that's the floor and while white marble is beautiful, I'm being drug across it to my death. Thinking about it all, I become dizzy as I start to fade in and out of consciousness.

Is this a dream? I've never seen corridors like this before. I wish it would have been brought to my attention when I had more than a semi-unconscious pass through to truly appreciate the artistry. Concrete sculptures freckle the banisters, walls, and ceilings. Pretty much anywhere you can fit a design, there was an image or shape taking life. Bloody executions. Screams of terror. Bare bodies. Creatures I can even recognize. What the hell is this place? Where I have been taken to? Not a window in sight.

No. I know better. It's not a dream and it's not the drugs. I know because I remember now. Everything that led to this moment.

FIVE YEARS AGO...

"We're so glad you could be joining us for dinner Charles!" Mr. Perry says as he pours me a third glass of wine and hands it across the table to me. "We could really use your level of expertise around here, you know." he smiled earnestly. 

Not in the way your neighbor would if he was Ted Flanders. No, this was more of a half-assed grin accompanied by stern eyes. It felt as if your ego was a glass window between you and him and his eyes were the lasers, cutting a hole. He was the secret agent finding a quiet way in, looking to peer into your soul. I felt vulnerable around him. Like maybe by watching him, I could become a more successful man. A more assertive man. 

 It was intimidating yet admirable. He always maintained this surreal amount of calmness in the few times I've met him. "Have you decided if you will be joining us here at The Community?"

"I- I'm not going to lie to you, I've been a little torn. I accepted a job in New York. It's hard to imagine walking away from that kind of money. I have a family n' all." Words fell out of my mouth onto my plate. Pushing them around with my fork, along with the remaining roasted carrots. That odd sense of calm remained despite my answer. 

Mr. Perry has never given me a reason to believe he'd respond aggressively but something was still unsettling about that man. I couldn't place what. I assumed his level of authority made me feel inferior. 

"Yes, yes. I understand," he says, "But, wouldn't you rather use your talents to contribute to the betterment of the world? Of society?" 

I'm not usually one to speak up. Or speak out of line. This man drinks from a cup I'd have to learn to pour. It's not that I don't care about the world and stuff. I'm just- I'm too busy. I have too many of my own problems to worry about everyone else. I mean, that's what charities and things like that exist for right? So every day guys like me won't fail miserably at trying to solve something we barely understand. Do I admit to a man of his stature the truth about how I feel? 

"Honestly, Perry, I've never thought about it before. I'm just good with numbers so I went with that. Besides, I know a few guys. If you would like me to refer you I can. It's not going to be a diffcult job. I'm not specail. Anyone in my feild can do it easily." 

He followed the wine in his glass with his eyes as he thoughtfully swirled it around, "Firstly, It's Mr. Perry," his tone nor his facial expression changed. Still that crooked grin. 

He looked up once again puncturing my soul. Does this guy know my thoughts? Does he know I'm kind of afraid of him? "and secondly, I don't want them. I want to hire you. I will match whatever they offered plus garenteed raises. You pick your hours. Go on vaction as long as you'd like- paid, and within reason of course. I just know none of them will be the right fit" He takes a sip of wine. Rejoices in the flavors only for a second, "not like you would, anyways." 

"You said it yourself, Charles. You don't really care do you? Take control of your life! Make a postive impact! What's there to lose?" 

"I don't know. New York's exciting. What would my wife say? If I just change the plan like that. Theres nothing here." 

"Charles. I thought I knew you better than this. I thought you were ready to be a man. How long have you been coming to The Commonplace now Charles?" 

"it's been a few months? three Months? Yes, three months now." 

"Yes, Three months Charles. You know our philospihy here. I know you do. You have exceled at the church. You have a life long garenteed career ahead of you. Your family will always be taken care of. You'll have everything you've ever wanted. And frankly if you're not doing Gods work. Well then, what's your worth as a man?" 

At the time, I felt like he was just dropping major truth bombs on me. Saying shit I needed to hear. I guess my hesitation wasn't in vain. I can never remember, is it ironic or a coincidence that I felt guilty for five years for not just taking life by the reins and trusting my God, just for it to end up being the cause of my demise. As if five years of mental torment wasn't enough. Now they'll not only own my life but my soul, too. Most likely.  

The film of my memories dissolves away as I think I am losing too much blood. Everything feels like a fever dream but I know it's real. Still being paraded along the floor, in passing I finally focus my eyes, unable to recollect ever seeing something so terrifying yet so pleasing to the eyes. Rich red flows like water. Blood for the master. How could I let this happen? The last few months don't seem real to me. Even when facing death in the face. It all just seems like a bad C-list movie with shitty dialogue but semi-okay props and make-up effects. The downward spiral seemed to travel at the speed of light, hitting rock bottom before I could ever catch my balance.

 Several people surround me. They must have just joined The Reap and me at some point during a moment of brief unconsciousness. Garnished in robes and sacrificial blades. Each their own color. All represent what hides within. 

The Reap tosses me to the floor without strain. Advanced members pick the largest, most burly men to perform that position for a reason. 

They each make a thoughtful incision on the palms of their hands. Fist clenched, forcing the pulsating wounds to drip into the basins that appear permanently fixed to the ground. Connecting network of groves in the floor that weaved a tapestry of symbols and beast. It looks like the beasts are more than creepy campfire stories we passed around in the common sites during summer events. I wonder who spreads those around, anyways. 

This wasn't supposed to happen to me. When I found out about some of the more questionable practices the advanced members partook in, I kept my mouth shut. Just like he told me to. I even acted as an accessory on occasion. I thought I was doing the right thing. And when I could no longer live in denial, I was fearful of my life. Now I see I was right to be. Now I will pay for all of it. And they will keep my soul. But at least I can die happy knowing a beautiful corridor like this exists. And has always existed unbeknownst the most of the world. And that I got my family out before it came to this. Anything for them. After all, it's my fault we were in this situation in the first place.

There's no way out of this one. It's the end of the road. I can't let them win. I can't let them complete the ritual. I need to soil myself, so I may not be used. Not piss my pants. Ruin my body. Taint my corpse. I attempt to lift my arm to my thigh. Maybe they missed the small revolver strapped to it. I was, after all, drug the entire way by, my fucking left ankle. If they didn't go out of their way to frisk me, they would've missed it. It was completely out of character for me, too. 

My arm twitched as it raised a bit. Then collapsed. I won't let them win. I won't let these psycho fucks win. With another twitch, I summoned the last of my remaining life force to feel for my weapon. It was most likely compensated but I had to try. I CAN'T LET THEM WIN. 

Finally, my hand met my thigh and- YES. It's still there. Stupid assholes. 

By this time The Reap joined them in ritual. Meaning no one is watching me anymore. It also means I don't have much more time before they use one of their blades to remove my heart while it's still beating. 

I slowly unbutton my pants, as not to startle anyone who might look my way. They think I've all but given up on my escape. And I have. Now I'm about to give them a real surprise. 

Moving slowly isn't an issue for me. I'm not in suspense. Something deep in my bones knew now. Knew how it would end for me. I'll wait patiently for the gun to meet my temple. For my forearm to muster up the strength to cock the gun. For my hand to slowly but steadily squeeze the trigger. But that's just the icing on the cake. First I will raise my weapon, aiming for The Reaps heart. "HE'S GOT A WEA-" The bullet slapped the air. Adrenaline shot through my veins. 

Shit! I missed. But he's down on the ground. Screaming and grabbing his stomach. I got 'em. That's what's important. A few, not as nearly as burly, men ran toward me. I've never shot at anyone before. I've never even been in a fight. I did, however, practice loading, reloading, and shooting occasionally when I could. Evidently not enough to kill a man, but to incapacitate him giving me just enough time to shoot at three more men, one right after another. BOP. Aimed for the head, got the neck, BOP. Aimed for the head, got the shoulder. BOP. Aimed, well, anywhere at this point. I just needed to make it to the center of what appeared to be a giant, satanic, ceremonial alter. For in the middle sat the solution to this whole fucked up mess. 

That was a large fire pit. If I use every bit of my second wind, I will be able to run and kick the damn thing over. Causing the tapestries and garments that decorated the room to catch on fire. Then a shot to the head. I won't burn alive in this place. I will leave on my own accord. 

As more men in the distance go to the aid of their fallen brothers, I was lifting my body from the ground. They were far enough for me to run several feet until I was just close enough. Practically throwing my body into the pit. Buckets of interrupted embers scatter amongst the floor, the flames followed, engulfing men in its way. They scream out even worse than the ones I shot. Saving one bullet for myself was a good move. 

The fire swallows all items in its path. Destroying many books, shelves, ingredients, and components that made up their bizarre rituals. I couldn't help but let out laughter. Madness. I've officially gone mad. Their screams gift me my final moments of joy. They deserve this. And just as I predicted. Moving slowly isn't an issue for me. I'm not in suspense. Something deep in my bones knew now. Knew how it would end for me. The gun has met my temple. Felt my forearm tense as I cocked the hammer. Used my final strength slowly but steadily. Squeezed. Blackness. The End.