Amnesia

They would call it amnesia. I would agree. They would call me insane. I would also agree. I couldn’t remember what happened, but I came to realise I had been staring at the enchanting paleness of the moon through an old, stained, outdated window for goodness knows how long. I couldn’t recall what had come over me or why I was in limbo simply staring out into the night, and as I regained full consciousness, I tried to search my memories for a scrap of a clue. Nothing. My only memory was staring at the moon. The vague outlines of trees and a couple of burning lights filled the rest of the scene. I was entrapped within some kind of facility on one of the higher levels. There was something off. A seventh sense was raising the hairs on the back of my neck forcing me to step away from the window and remain out of sight. The room was small but not empty; there were some food items left on an old desk with a candle lamp. I noticed the age of the rug and the discolouration on the walls. Everything seemed to weigh in on the fact that the building was ancient, yet somehow quite adequately preserved. Afraid of the windows and who or what might be lurking outside I crept around the room looking in old drawers and searching shelves for any hint of information. The door to the broom closet made a most terrifying eerie sound as it slowly swung open. I jolted around to face it with intense fear, but no one was there. I carefully peered into the cupboard and found nothing unusual besides a note stuck to the inside of the door. The writing was so awfully scribed I couldn’t make a single sensible word out of it. I folded it neatly and slipped it into my pocket, wondering what could have possibly caused my circumstances. I walked towards the main door and figured it would surely lead out to a place where I might find someone with answers. My hand clasped the golden handle and lowered it gently. The metal was cool and menacing. I could feel my heart rate rise as the door clicked open to reveal an endlessly dark corridor. I swallowed and thought for a moment about remain in the comfort and safety of my room. A terribly loud whispery scream echoed up the hallway. It could have been some kind of wind draught but my mind was telling me otherwise. Tears began swelling in my eyes and my throat tightened. I desperately wanted to find someone else who could tell me what was going on. The lack of memory was confusing and frustrating enough without the added fear of some seemingly abandoned building. Grabbing the candle lamp, I stepped out into the hallway and carefully made my way down it. There were many other doors along the way but there were no lights on inside the rooms. I came across a chair that had been flipped on its side. Marks across the wall indicated that it had been thrown or pushed with quite some force. Large scratch marks were etched into the bookshelf beside it, which had lost many of its books in the assault. It almost appeared staged. The whispers echoed from the darkness once more. Deep in my soul, I knew something was toying with me; I became hypervigilant. Every single sound was amplified and suddenly I was hearing footsteps on the level above, the creaking of doors and floorboards and even the moving of furniture. At the end of the corridor, a sturdy descent of stairs awaited me. The darkness eased up as I headed down; the room was illuminated by soft moonlight that seeped in through the neat line of old windows. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a silhouette. My heart stopped dead still for the man was not moving; he was slumped over a large fountain in the centre of the room. I tiptoed over with my lamp and reached out to him. His skin was ice cold and his hand was swollen from sitting in the fountain’s water. Beside his body was a small glass that had spilled violet liquid onto the ground. I presumed it was his last drink. As if to snap me back into the reality of the horrors I had just witnessed a door on the same level slammed shut violently. A spike of adrenaline coursed through my veins prompting me to move on or risk the same fate as the man at my feet. I decided to head away from the direction of the slam and found myself at another flight of stairs. These were different though; they were made of stone and seemed to lead much deeper down than the previous set. So far down, in fact, they led me to a level underground. It was cold and eerie. I wanted to turn back but I had a terrible feeling that something alive on the floor above was searching for me, and my very being was begging me not to be found. I carried on down the stone pathway, trying to keep my footsteps as quiet as I could. The shadows on the walls taunted me as they twisted and shifted with the flickering of the slowly dying lamp. I realised then that the candle would eventually burn out and I was running out of time. My pace fastened with my heartbeat and I found myself entering into an abandoned underground laboratory. I tried to remain silent as I stepped out onto a metal bridge. It was rickety and mischievous and wanted more than anything to draw attention to my position. I glanced down and was able to see hundreds of cylindric tubes. I descended down a ladder and found myself feeling the least safe I had since regaining consciousness. My stomach knotted and my hands began to sweat. In each of the holding cylinders was a human being, drowned in some kind of liquid. I stared into the first cylinder and noticed how pale and blue their skin was, how dead they appeared. It made me wonder if their deaths had been quick or torturous. Then I noticed the tiniest of bubbles pumping from the bottom as if to filter and replenish the liquid inside. The cylinders were attached to a main pipe that travelled beyond what I could see. My skin began to itch and my fingertips began to shake. Whoever was imprisoning all these dead bodies knew I was here. I could feel their eyes watching and waiting for me to slip up. I looked at the closed eyes of the body in front of me. Her body swayed gently with the force of the current from the main pipe. Whether a trick of the water or my own hallucination I noticed her finger twitching. I stepped closer and glanced at it more intently but there was no more movement. As stepped back, my soul left my body; her eyes were locked onto me.