66 Days

 66 Days

                                                  Prompt: Setting

     Day 1: I woke up in a machine this morning. A tall, egg shaped machine. I was wearing a nice black suit with a black tie. I was in a fluorescently lit gray room with nothing else in it but a clump of moss in one corner and an empty diary in the other. I couldn't remember anything, not like I was just born, more like I just woke up from a long dream and hadn’t realized it wasn’t real yet. I found this diary on the ground and figured I would start writing in it.

      Day 2: Sleeping on the floor isn’t for me apparently. I left the building today. It’s in a city, a big city that seems to stretch on forever. It’s red like the forest is green and the sea is blue. It doesn’t look like there’s a sun or moon here. I saw people walking around. Everyone here wears a mask that kinda looks like a face but not quite. Their mouths open and close but I don’t hear them say anything. I try to talk to them but they just walk by. I try to reach out and grab them but my hand goes right through them. I’m trying to sleep on a bench. I guess it’s an upgrade but it still sucks though. 

    Day 3: I’m starting to realize the people in this city are either always walking and never stop or don’t seem to move at all. They’re all wearing suits like mine; the only difference is the color of their ties. I’ve seen blue, red, and green so far. I wandered around some more. I found a skyscraper that said Moonlight Hotel. Door was locked though. Guess I should get used to sleeping on benches.

  Day 5: I still can’t remember anything about why I’m here, who I was. All I can remember is a mouse, and a snake. I found a bar, locked again but the sign out front said the key is at the post office… for some reason. I didn’t see any more of those weird people on the streets today but sometimes I thought I could still hear their footsteps. I tried walking around looking for the post office but I got tired and fell asleep on the sidewalk. It’s really hard to fall asleep in a place where the sky is blood red.

  Day 6: I was surrounded by those people walking down the street when I woke up. I found one of those maps with a “you are Here” label and found the post office. It was dark, a little eerie maybe but mostly pretty normal upon first inspection. There wasn’t any actual mail though. I found the key to the bar on the ground and fell asleep there. I finally fell asleep somewhere dark. Kinda damp though.

      Day 7: I went back to the bar today. I drank a lot. I couldn’t get drunk though. What am I doing any of this for? Why am I here?

      Day 8: I went for a walk around the city today. I saw people with purple and pink ties today. I tried to talk to them, but of course it didn’t work. I felt hot so I tried to take off my suit jacket. I couldn’t. Apparently that’s not how this place works. 

     Day 9: I woke up with a compass in my hand today. None of its directions were labeled but it was definitely pointing a certain way. I followed it all day. I saw one of those people that was noticeably taller than me; all the other ones are my height.

    Day 10: I woke up on the sidewalk,  I don’t remember falling asleep. The compass was gone. I finally had something pointing me in a direction. Now I have nothing.  I didn’t really do anything today.

     Day 11: Today I found a movie theater. I tried to get the projector running so I could have some entertainment but whoever I was before coming here, I definitely wasn’t a projector technician so I didn’t have any luck. The people in the seats seemed to really enjoy watching the blank screen though. Good for them I guess. I fell asleep in one of the theater seats. It was uncomfortable but certainly an improvement over the sidewalk.

     Day 12: All the people disappeared again today. I don’t know why. I stayed in the movie theater today. I tried to chip away at the projector a bit more. I’m beginning to think this place is devoid of fun. I felt more uneasy than usual today, like I was being watched or something.

     Day 13: I woke up at the bottom of a stairwell today, a stairwell I had never seen and a stairwell I definitely didn’t fall asleep in before. I’ve been climbing up it all day. I should probably get to sleep.

Day 14: I climbed up the stairs all day again today. It feels like the stairs are repeating, like every stretch of stair is identical to the last.

     Day 15: I sat down on a step all day today. I don’t think this staircase will ever end.

      Day 16: I think I slept all day.

     Day 17: I figured it couldn’t hurt so I chipped away at some more walking today.

     Day 18: I tried punching a hole in the wall to get out. My hand hurts.

      Day 19: When I woke up today I saw a figure standing at the top of the steps, watching me. I ran after it but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. This one was different. It didn’t move like the others. Maybe they’re the one who put me here. 

     Day 20: I actually got to the top of the staircase today. I was in an empty gray room, a lot like the one I first woke up in except this one was truly empty. No machine, no dairy, no moss. It was a blank canvas. I blinked and I saw a lantern with a blue flame hanging from the ceiling at eye level. I walked up to it, reached for it, and blinked again. The room had entirely changed when I opened my eyes. There were bookshelves on the walls, a bloody knife and chalk outline on the floor. This was a crime scene. I blinked once more and a man in a white suit with no jacket, and  white mask with no eye holes stood over the outline, holding the knife, drenched in a strange black liquid. Chalk writing on the wall asked, “WHO WAS HE?” I blinked one more time and I was gone.

     Day 21: I woke up in the middle of the street this morning. Waking up in the street here normally wouldn't be a problem but there were cars driving through this street. I panicked, jumped up to my feet and began sprinting to the sidewalk as a car came flying at me. It hit me. Or it should have, at least. The car passed through me; its driver was another one of those masked people. I guess their cars are just as intangible as they are. Like dying could be that easy. Those cars are everywhere now. I wonder what else has changed since my time in the stairwell. I pretty much just walked around today.

     Day 22: I wandered some more today. Every building I tried to go in was locked so nothing much to report. I just realized I haven’t eaten anything the whole time I’ve been here. I guess you don’t need to eat here.

     Day 23: I found an abandoned football field today. I could go in but I couldn't find a ball, and nobody was around to play with so I just walked up and down the field, counting every yard. I got up to the broadcast booth but it didn’t work. All I heard on the speakers was garbage noise. The field was empty but the stands were filled with people. Some of the people held buckets of popcorn. I never saw them eat any though. 

     Day 24: Still nothing as far as memory goes. I haven’t been forgetting anything since I’ve been here though so that’s good. It’s kinda weird I know what all this stuff is, like a football field, or a car, or a diary. Some players were on the field when I woke up today, helmets and all. They didn’t really play though. They just stood in place like a play was about to start. Kinda boring but more entertainment than anything I’ve seen here.

     Day 25: I had a nightmare about  that crime scene last night. I didn’t realize dreaming was a thing here so I thought I was really back there. “Who Was He?” What does that even mean? The killer or the victim? There wasn’t even a body there, just an outline. I left the football field today but I didn’t manage to find any points of interest so I fell asleep on the sidewalk.

     Day 26: When I woke up I realized two things. One, the streets were devoid of pedestrians again, two; there was a candy shop to my left, a candy shop that wasn’t there when I went to bed. I had seen it though… before. Before any of this. It was warm and bright and inviting and colorful. I started to walk towards it. I haven’t just been here once, I have been here more times than I can count. I don’t know why I’ve been here or what happened here but I know it’s important. The moment I touched the door I felt the city change around me. I was standing on a boardwalk. I saw a blue sky, an ocean, I heard the cries of  seagulls, and felt the warmth of the sun. I stood there for what may have been hours and cried. I didn’t care if there still weren't people here, I didn't care if I still didn’t know what’s happening. I didn’t care that I didn’t know where I came from, because this felt a lot more like home than that hellscape. I walked down to the beach, candy from the store in hand. I sat and ate, and said good riddance to that god forsaken city.

     Day 33: I’m back in the city because of course I am. I was in that beautiful boardwalk paradise for a week. I didn’t write about those days at the time because I thought I found where I was meant to be and this whole diary experiment had come to an end. I’m not writing about it now because I don’t feel like it. 

     Day 34: The city has gotten worse. All the text on billboards and road signs is gibberish, randomly ordered letters. There are giant human silhouettes in the distance all around me. I know they’re watching me. The people are still around and they seem to act the same but their masks are white and eyeless, like the killer at that crime scene. 

     Day 35: I found  a gun lying on the sidewalk today. I tried to shoot myself but the gun didn’t have any bullets.

     Day 36: I just realized my tie and gloves are both white now. I’m not sure if that just happened or it’s been like that for a while but I thought I should tell you. You? Who the hell’s gonna read this? I may be the only real person that exists, that’s ever existed. If you are reading this, I hope you like it. And I hope you aren’t here with me.

     Day 37: I wake up in a different place every day now. I can’t find my way anywhere anymore so I just wander. I’m never going to leave this place.

     Day 38: The streets are littered with guns now but I don’t think about trying them. I know they’re empty. The city’s got a sense of humor. 

     Day 39: I woke up at the door of what was once called the moonlight hotel. It wasn’t locked this time. I walked through the lobby. It was filled with these “people.” It feels weird just calling them that. These aren’t people. They’re just tools this place is using to make me want to die, knowing full well I can’t. I went into the elevator. it only had one button, a button labeled 999. The elevator was crowded. I was surrounded by them. They were all staring at me. The moment the door opened, they all disappeared. The elevator door opened into a bedroom. Two figures, cloaked in shadow, sat at the edge of the bed, looking out at the window. I tried to walk into the room, but I couldn’t move. I tried to shout out to the figures but I couldn’t talk. Hundreds of words were scrawled all over the room, on the walls, the floor, the ceiling, everywhere. “999,” “Timiki," “How Many Lives,” “For the Machine,” “The Cover of Shadow.” That was all I could read before the figures turned around and looked at me. 

     Day 40: I woke up lying face down, shoeless in a puddle today. It was raining all day today, at least it looked like it was raining. Water fell down from the sky and puddles were all over the ground but there were no clouds in the sky and I never felt water on my skin. I looked in the puddle I woke up in, and I wasn’t in the reflection. I've never been in a reflection. I don’t know what I look like.  Maybe I don’t want to.    

     Day 41: It’s still raining today. I found an unlocked skyscraper today. I’m sitting at the edge of the roof. This is the best view I’ve ever gotten of this place. It’s weird, I’ve spent so much time here but I can’t recognize a single landmark. I’m watching the people walk through the streets. They huddle in groups, share umbrellas, talk, interact. They have friends, they can touch each other, people hear what they say. Maybe I’m the outsider here.

     Day 42: I just realized there isn’t a difference between day and night here so the whole day system for this diary is kind of arbitrary. 

     Day 43: I found a ferris wheel today. It would've been a kinda nice ride if my cabin didn’t have six people in there with me, talking to each other, keeping secrets from me. 

     Day 44: The road signs aren’t gibberish anymore. Now they all say “John.” Is that my name? The killer's name?  Is that what this place is called? This place has taught me not to expect answers to my questions. 

     Day 45: I saw a stone tower in the distance this morning. It was 3 times taller than any other building here. I know this place seems inescapable, but if there’s anything that can get me out of here it’s up there, I know it. I’ve been walking towards it all day. I’m trying to stay awake so I don’t wake up farther from the tower but I know I’ll fall asleep eventually.

     Day 46: I fell asleep, and I woke up right in front of the tower. But I can’t walk any closer to it. I can’t move at all. I stand in place, watching people walk in and out of the stone tower. All the ones that leave are wearing white suits now, not the usual black. The ones in the white suits act differently. They don’t talk to each other. They don’t move with purpose. They just shuffle around and stare into space. I hear the rushing of water. The people in black suits are running for their lives, those in white aren’t  moving at all. 

     Day 47: The city disappeared today. It’s submerged in water now. The sky isn’t red anymore. It’s a dreary, cloud filled gray. I’m on a boat, a large boat with no one else on it. I’ve always felt a little lonely on days where I don’t see anyone. I know I can’t talk to them but it’s nice to know they’re there. I see the stone tower peeking out of the ocean; this boat is going towards it. This ocean, It’s not like the ocean on the boardwalk. It’s not blue and vibrant. It's cold and gray. It looks like giving up. I’m looking around at all the other boats on this vast ocean. They’re all headed to the same destination. The passengers are all still wearing black; they won’t be for long. 

      Day 48: I explored the boat today, looking for more cryptic clues or other passengers. Nothing.

     Day 49: I’m still on the boat. I’ll soon reach the tower, and all of this will come to an end. What is “This” anyway? What have I accomplished by wandering through some stupid nonsense city for two months? I haven’t done anything. I haven’t learned anything about why I’m here or what I’m supposed to be doing. I’m not sure the tower will be any different but I guess I have nowhere else to go now. 

     Day 50: Another day on the boat. I’m getting tired of writing these. 

     Day 51: I finally got to the tower today. The boat disappeared behind me, no turning back. All the other boats have landed too,  I must have seen at least a thousand people pour from the boats and walk into the tower. I’m waiting for all of them to go in. I’m meant to do this alone. I’m gonna sleep here at the foot of the steps. I’m not sure what’s gonna happen in there so just in case, whoever's reading this, thanks. Writing this, hoping someone will read it someday, it’s helped me get through this.

     Day 52: The tower isn’t how I expected at all. It isn’t tall on the inside. There isn’t any stone to be found. It’s a house, two bedrooms, two stories, one bathroom. A living room with a fireplace and TV, a home office with a desk and computer. There are silhouettes of people here, going about their lives. One is watching TV, or at least appears to be because I can’t see anything on the screen and the remote doesn’t seem to work. Another silhouette is typing away on a computer with a blank screen. Another silhouette crouches on the ground, attentively adjusting to small figurines on the ground. The figurines look like the people in the city, the white suited ones in particular. I couldn’t find anything more to do in the house so I went to sleep… in a bed. Even the boardwalk didn’t have that.

     Day 53: I still couldn’t find anything in the house. I thought maybe I missed something outside of the tower so I walked back out of the front door. The dreary oceanic landscape was gone, replaced by a similarly dreary, small town. A small town full of rows of identical gray houses, picket fences, endless rows of hedges, and more silhouettes, playing hopscotch and jump rope, pick up basketball and baseball. The interior of each house served as a small museum exhibit, each representing a different location from the city. One house was the movie theater on the inside, another was the hotel lobby, and another, and another, and another. I didn’t like my time in the city, but revisiting these places did make me feel a little nostalgic. Finally I went into a gray house and on the inside was the room I woke up in when I first got here. I saw that same clump of moss, that same fluorescent light, and that same machine. It’s funny, that clump of moss is probably the only actual life I ever saw in the city. There was a gun lying where the diary was. It had one bullet. I turned it on myself, thought about giving the city what it wanted. I turned the gun on the machine, and fired.

     Day 54: I woke up lying face down in the sand this morning. I was in a desert underneath a blinding white sky. There were collapsing buildings all around. They weren’t really buildings though. They were massive concrete shapes: cylinders, triangles, squares. They didn’t have doors or windows but I knew they were buildings because I knew this was the city in another form. It was like the buildings had devolved. It was so hot but now I can actually take off my suit jacket. The rules don’t apply here anymore. The city is falling apart. Nowone else is here. It’s just me. The tower’s in the distance. I’m just as far from it as I had been a week ago but I know if I get to it again, I can bring this cycle to an end.

     Day 55: I’ve been walking all day. The giant silhouettes in the distance, are slumped over, completely limp. No longer staring at me but instead, staring straight down. I’m not sure if they are dead as I’m not sure anything can die here but if they did… I fear what killed them.

     Day 56: I feel weak. My movement and breathing have slowed. It hurts just to walk. It feels like every step I take is one step closer to death. This city has died and I think I’m next.

     Day 57: I stopped walking towards the tower today. I’m not sure I can go on. I wish I could find some shade to rest under but these buildings don’t cast shadows. 

     Day 58: I got back to walking today but I don’t feel like I’m getting any closer. The city was always quiet but now it seems like nothing here is capable of making noise.

     Day 59: I got back to the tower today. When I walked in I was greeted by a small gray room with seven machines inside, each identical to the one I arrived in. I didn’t have a gun to shoot them with this time so I knew I had to climb into them. I climbed into the machine labeled “1,” closed the door behind me and closed my eyes.

     Day 60: When I opened my eyes I was still in the machine. I tried to open the door but it wouldn't budge. I heard explosions echo all around me. I eventually pried open the door only for the machine to be filled with dirt. I clawed my way out and stumbled into the city. It was the city as it once was except it was a warzone. The city's inhabitants were at war. Flyings planes, firing guns, throwing grenades. Buildings were falling down. I walked through the city, bullets flying through me, and reminisced. Who knows what the other machines have in store. Yhis could be the last time I see the city. I’m standing at the entrance to the tower now. I’m not sure what this version of the city was trying to show me. 

     Day 61: Today I went into the machine labeled ”2.” I awoke in a small dark room, lit only by the flickering static of a box TV sitting on a table in the middle of the room. On the TV was a man I had never seen before driving a car. The video had no sound but over the TVs speaker I heard a strange, distorted voice saying a sequence of numbers. “12,” “40,” “13,” “7,” “19,” “17,” “20,” “8.” There were a lot more numbers but I don’t remember them. This man… he looked how I know people really look. It was the first real human face I’ve seen here. It may be through a screen but this feels like I’m getting closer. Closer to something real. Closer to leaving this place.

     Day 62: Today was machine numbers 3s turn. When I woke up I wasn’t in the machine, I was in a coffin. There were names written all over the inside of the coffin. Some I’d seen before: “John,” “Timiki,” Some I hadn’t, “Aaron,” “Eli,” “Tim.” They all felt familiar. After I read every name, all 999, (That number again) the coffin opened and I climbed out. The coffin was on a hill, in the middle of the night beneath a lone headstone. The headstone read “Here Lies The Wanderer.” All those names in the coffin and the headstone can’t manage even one. Not a real name, anyway. 

     Day 63: The room has gotten darker with each machine I’ve entered. Each machine has been destroyed after I returned from the world it sent me to. The fourth Machine led to a classroom full of more silhouettes. Small ones, sitting in desks attentively listening to the teacher, standing at the whiteboard, chalk in hand. The teacher began to write on the board. They wrote “You Will Never Leave This Place.” The students took out their notebooks and began to take notes. “You Will Never Leave This Place,” “You Will Never Leave This Place,” “You Will Never Leave This Place,” over and over. I will leave this place.

     Day 64: I can barely see anything in the room any more, I have to feel around to find the last two machines.  The sixth machine led to a long gray hallway that led to a pool of glowing quiet liquid. For lack of better options I entered the pool.

     Day 65: I awoke, standing before one final machine, wearing a white suit, a knife in hand. I entered the machine and I was in a dark, damp hallway made from slithering, oozing, pulsating jet black tendrils. I walked through the hallway as tendrils tried to drag me into the ground and the walls began to constrict. I sliced through the tendrils, their strange black blood spewing from their wounds and splashing against my face… at least it would have hit my face. But I felt nothing. I reached for my face and realized there was something on my face… a mask. I’m like them now. I slashed and clawed my way through the tendrils and eventually, I came out on the other side. I pierced the last barrier of tendrils, and blinding white light began to seep through its wounds. I stumbled into a white void. I saw myself, in my white suit, and my white mask, on my knees, crying. “I” tore off my mask and threw it down. There was nothing but another silhouette underneath. I then reappeared amidst the black tendrils. Before me was a giant jet black hand, covered in white chalk scrawlings. I stepped forward, drew my knife and stabbed it, again and again and again.

     Day 66: I woke up in a church. A perfectly normal church. I saw someone. Someone I had seen before, someone I may see again. A real person. He walked down the aisle, nervously inspecting the pews. Then he turned his head to the pulpit and looked at me in horror. I tried to reach out to him, to say something to him, but he just tried to run away. In an instant the church collapsed around me and I was gone. I saw someone real, and they still couldn’t hear me. I think I know what this place has been trying to show me. I’ll never leave this place. And neither will you.

Day 1:  I woke up in a machine this morning. A tall, egg shaped machine. I was wearing a nice black suit with a black tie. I was in a fluorescently lit gray room with nothing else in it but a patch of white flowers in one corner and a diary in the other. It’s weird, a lot of this book is already filled out but all the writing is just gibberish, a bunch of letters in random order.  I couldn't remember anything, anything except a knife, and a hand. I found this diary on the ground so I figured I would start writing in it.