Voices

I sweep my hand under the couch, but all I pick up are dust bunnies. I mutter some nonsense to myself, because I have no better way to complain when I’m alone. 

It’s like I can feel the dampness hanging in the air; I can smell the mist inside of this room. The thunder claps again, and I jump. Out the window I can see the fog, hanging in the air. It’s like it just decided that this was the place to be; it certainly doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. It creates a sort of creepy setting, too, because there isn’t any rain. There’s only fog, and clouds, and thunder.

“Oh, necklace!” I half-shout, “Where did you go?” I snap my fingers for it, as if that would make a difference. “Honestly,” I mutter, “throw me a bone here.”

I’ve got the heels on, I’ve got the red dress and the lipstick. I even half-curled my hair, because I need the entire image. If I don’t find that old silver necklace, though, I simply won’t be able to see the outfit as a whole - and that would be a major issue. No girl wants to go to prom without completely preparing. Yes - I get that it’s three months away, and I get that I may be a little obsessed. There’s no harm in obsession, though, right? I just want to know how it looks.

Maybe I should be looking harder. 

I look one more time over the living room, remembering I was showing it off to my friends. It’s not here, though, so I should check my bedroom. It can’t be in my bedroom, though …

I guess I’ll check the laundry room. I took it off there once a while ago.

On the way down the stairs, I almost fall, like, eight times. I never wear heels. I’m not a heels type of girl, you know? I’m wearing them for prom because they make me feel pretty. I’m sure that every girl wants to feel pretty once in a while.

Plus, I don’t wear high heels because I’m so friggin’ clumsy.

My shoes slide a little on the tile in the laundry room. I look over it quickly; it’s not on the counter, or on the heap of dirty clothes in the corner, or by the “CLEAN UP” sticky note that Mom left on top of the washer. 

There’s just a small glint that catches my eye, coming from under the dryer. “Oh!” I exclaim, and push the machine to the side. It’s not a necklace though; it looks like the corner of a rectangle. I pull the dryer out a little farther, revealing more of the silver square. “What the…” I move around to the back and lean against the wall, pushing it the last bit of the way with my foot. It’s a… trap door? I bend down to pull it open, and there’s a drop, onto a hard dirt ground. “What the hell?”

I stare down through the door for a seeming eternity, contemplating what I’ve really got to lose. Maybe I should change… But. But? I’m not exploring, I’ll just drop down and look. It’s probably just an extra storage room or something. There’s even a wooden ladder, so I’ll just climb down and then back out again. 

I drop my foot onto the top rung, and it slips on the heel. It’s okay, though, I’m all right. My other foot joins the first, and then, I begin my ungraceful descent.

It’s only three more rungs, but I feel so accomplished when I make it successfully.

When I get to the bottom, I hear things I couldn’t hear before. 

I hear sounds I’ve never heard before, not in my life. 

It sounds like rushing water, but more ominous. It sounds like wind, and like something’s gushing past me, but in the distance. And I don’t like it. I do not like it. The sound gets progressively louder - slowly, but it does. 

What I see? It’s a tunnel, and it’s torch-lit. This is the creepiest thing I have ever seen, or experienced. By far the most scared I’ve ever been. I can’t see an end to the tunnel, not on either side. It just gets darker. 

The bright side is that I’m cloaking my raging fear with an extremely cool face. I look totally calm and collected. Too bad nobody’s here to see it. 

Wait, no.

I hear voices. That’s good; someone will see how cool I’m playing it. They’ll see how greatly I’m covering up the scary thoughts eating me up.

No, wait.

That’s not a good thing.

I look back up to the trap door, which is still wide open. Obviously. What did I think, it would close?

The trap door begins to close. There’s a satisfying clink sound when it shuts.

“What in the-” 

I try climbing back up the ladder, so I can try to open the door again. On the first rung, I slip on the heel of my shoe, and I fall onto the mucky ground and hit my head on the wall of the tunnel.

“My dress!” I pout, sorting through the hot red ruffles – many of which are now brown.

The rumbling sound - the rushing water type sound - still gets louder.

I use the dress as a distraction, sorting through the ruffles, because I don’t want to know what’s coming. I’ll probably die, actually. What did I want my last words to be?

Oh, my shoes are all muddy too. And it’s all up my back.

I just rest my head against the dirt wall and look at the ceiling, waiting for death to take me.

“I’m here,” I say. “Just get on with it already.”

Then, I realize the torches are going out, one by one. I realize that it’s fast.

What is that, three torches away from me? Two, no, one-

I can’t scream. I’m tumbling over, sideways, and forward, rushing through the tunnel.

I can’t breathe. Water envelopes me, sneaking up my nose.

I can’t control myself. I think it’s undertow, keeping me down. It’s pulling at my limbs and pushing my hair around.

So, I guess it was rushing water after all.

Oh, great. My hair is drenched. And my dress! Oh, I wish I could scream. No, no! I can fix my hair, but my dress is ruined! Oh, no. This is just awful.

This is just awful.

This is just…

I still can’t breathe.

I can’t open my eyes.

I don’t think I…

I can’t…

No.

****

Wait. Is that sand?

You know how sometimes you think you just know what some things taste like? I mean, I’ve had sand in my mouth before, but never this much. It’s so much drier than I’d imagine. And you know, sand does not taste good.

I lift myself onto my hands and knees, and spit it out -- well, most of it. Some of it cakes on to the inside of my mouth.

There’s sand stuck to my face, too. I reach up and try to wipe it off from around my eyes.

When I open them, I can’t really believe it. I can’t totally imagine that this is real, so I close my eyes again.

Yes, this is real.

I touch my hand to my face. Yes, I can feel it. Yes, it’s real. I know it’s real.

So just calm down.

Remember to stay cool. I look completely calm and collected, and at least that’s a start.

I really can’t bring myself to open my eyes again, so I pull up my eyelids with my hand.

“Oh,” I whisper. And thunder booms across the skies.

It’s still foggy. It’s still a grey sky. And there still isn’t rain.

There are trees so tall that they tower into the clouds. They’re taller than any building I’ve ever seen, disappearing into the mist. When I look into the forest, there is no seeing another side. The trees go on until they’re farther than I can see.

Technically, I’m washed up on the shore. I don’t want to think of it that way, but that’s the truth. I’m on a small patch of sand, which seems like the only one here. The water it rests beside is just a small swampy pond, green and brown, and filled with sticks and leaves.

I feel the corners of my mouth creep up my cheeks as I see what’s behind the pond. It’s a long, flat field. I can’t tell where it goes, except for beyond the horizon. I figure a flat field is a better bet than the jungle though.

I start to stand up, but I almost fall. My high heels aren’t cooperating with the sand very well. When I get my balance back, I start, carefully, toward the ground beyond it. For the first few steps I wobble, and the last few steps, I still wobble.

When I make it to the ground, it isn’t as dry as I’d expected. It’s the same kind of wet mud as in the tunnel, and the heels of my shoes are sinking into it. I try lifting one leg, but it’s stuck, and when I pull harder, I fall. The sky rumbles.

“Oh, screw this,” I mutter. I undo the straps, and pull off both of my shoes. I figure it’s better to go barefoot than to fall down every other step.

I stand up, again, and start to walk around the pond towards the field. The ground against my bare feet feels so nice though, like, freeing. I don’t realize it at first, but I start to run, and then sprint.

When I make it to the edge of the pond, I stop. Thunder claps. I don’t know why I stop, though. I didn’t mean to stop. I try to take another step, but I can’t. There’s no feeling like something tugging me down, or blocking me out; I just can’t step forward. I reach out in front of me, and I feel a wall. It’s cold, and it’s hard. And it’s invisible. I take a step back, and then forward again, and when I try to step forward once more, I can’t. “Oh my- no,” I say, reaching out to the wall. “No, no!”

I sigh.

I think I hear whispers.

Good, someone can see how calm and collected I look.

Wait, that’s still not a good thing.

The sky rumbles.

The voices disappear.

“Not creepy at all,” I whisper.

I start toward the trees, then, because there isn’t anywhere else to go. I don’t even know where I came from; I can’t see the tunnel anywhere. Maybe it’s underwater though…

I gag at the thought. I am not swimming in that pond. There’s still a chance to fix the dress, but there won’t be after it touches that pool of nightmares.

I cross the line where the trees start – which is a visible line on the ground – and a crow caws somewhere in the distance. It echoes into the fog, and then the noise fades away.

I’ll have to walk for a long time. But I don’t know what I’m looking for. There seems to be some part of me that knows, though, that this is the right direction.

I start to jog into the forest – jungle, whatever it is – and hold my breath. I have to breathe eventually, obviously, but I held it momentarily solely for dramatic effect.

I start to see something in the distance – just something floating in the fog. I can’t make out what it is, but I start to run faster towards it.

Maybe it’s a person. Maybe it’s a shelter I can live in for the rest of time, I don’t know. Maybe…

“Ah!” I scream. It isn’t a loud scream, it’s just sudden.

I fall, tumbling onto the ground. I’d just tripped on a rock, that’s all. But holy crap, does it ever hurt. Even without my heels, I managed to stub my bare toes and fall down.

The voices fade in and out, very quickly, but I still can’t tell where they’re coming from. “Stand up!” Yeah, I know, voices. Just hold on a minute.

The sky roars.

I look at my foot, which is only a little bit red. I guess it’s all right, then.

“Get up! Why won’t she get up?”

The sky roars, again.

But something isn’t right. I look up, and that thing in the distance is moving toward me. I push myself off the ground, and squint at it, trying to figure out what it is. Maybe the sky wasn’t the one roaring.

That’s not good… that’s not good at all.

“Run.”

So that I do.

I sprint to the left, because I don’t want to go back to the swamp.

What is that thing anyways? I try to turn around and look – which is not a good idea. I almost fall over again when I see that there is a tiger chasing me.

My feet thump hard against the cold soil. They don’t seem to be fast enough.

As I get deeper into this part of the woods, the tree trunks become a brighter colour, close to red. The leaves on the branches become larger and darker green. I start to see vines hanging down.

I turn to look behind me once more, to see that the tiger is almost right behind me.

I know that I can’t outrun a tiger, and that it will catch up to me. I should actually be dead by now, but somehow I’ve managed to stay fast enough (which is faster than I’ve ever run before.)

Maybe I could swing on a vine, like Tarzan. I bet I’d have enough momentum. Wait… no, that’s ridiculous.

I come up to a vine hanging low, and without thinking about it, I reach up and grab it. I shriek again when the tiger jumps up to claw at me as I swing away. I watch as threads of my dress unravel and float to the ground.

So much for trying to fix it.

The vine swings through the air – like, actually swings, Tarzan style – and lands me on a branch. Thunder booms through the clouds. Through the mist, I can’t see much.

I hear the voices again, but they’re only distant murmurs. It’s like they’re softened by the fog.

I want to get down from here. I take hold of the vine that brought me up – and I swear I don’t know where the confidence is coming from – and I jump off the branch to swing through the trees. When I approach the ground, my feet only brush it, my toes just barely dragging through the fresh soil. There are vines everywhere, so I could keep going. I let myself keep swinging to the next.

So, this is what it’s really like to live in fantasy? Except, it isn’t fantasy. I can’t imagine this is for real, though, so… what is it? I don’t understand. I am swinging from vines like Tarzan. I get that it’s real, I just can’t believe it.

“Down here. Let her down here.”

On this last vine, I jump to the ground as I approach it. The sky thunders. I don’t even fall over when I land.

The soil here is darker than it was before, and the trees are thinner. They’re farther apart from each other, too. Tall, yellow grass begins to grow, and as I walk into it, it brushes my hips.

The fog here seems thicker, though, than it was a few minutes ago. I walk further into the grass and the skinny trees, looking for anything-

There.

There’s a box made of glass. There’s something shiny inside, glinting, catching my eye, even though there’s no bright sun to cause it.

I sprint in its direction, the grass blades crunching beneath my feet. As I get closer I can see the thing inside…

It’s my necklace.

I come to a halt as I approach the glass. There, there it is. My silver, beautiful necklace, in all its glory.

Makes sense that I get it once my dress is ruined.

The only problem is that I don’t know how to get it out. I could punch the glass, I guess. So I punch the glass. And it hurts so bad.

Why the hell would I do that? I try to shake it off. That’s one of the worst decisions I’ve ever made. Once the pain fades, I grab the necklace and put it on. A smile spreads across my face. The sky booms.

I look over my shoulder, where I just ran from, and right there, in the middle of the grass, is my house. It’s old and rotten and covered in vines, but it’s still my house. “Finally,” I sigh, and sprint towards it.

When I open the door, I notice that through its window, I don’t see a forest. Through the glass, I see my own neighborhood. I close the door, gently, saying goodbye to this dream world. I open it once more to look outside, but it’s back to my own street. The vines on the house are gone. I close the door again.

I turn around to see that on the coatrack, there is a brand new, hot red, poofy dress hanging with a pair of new, shorter heels. To be completely honest, I like that dress better than the one I have on.

Then I turn to the mirror in the entryway, to see how awful I look. Really, it’s not that bad, but that isn’t what surprises me. In black marker, written on the mirror it reads, LEVEL 1 COMPLETE. Please claim your prize!

The voices aren’t gone, but faded, and they cheer.