The cold lights shone above. The cold floor, sterile, white, square and hexagonal tiles, below. The cold, claustrophobic feeling of so many vacant sitting rooms, deserted dining rooms; the cold feeling of so many bodiless beds that had never seen an occupant, nor probably ever would; the cold, sterile air conditioning; the cold, sterile emptiness of a world of possessions pressing in; I cried out in fear, in anguish, in loneliness, in sadness, in anger, in pain. The tears rolled down my cheeks as I weeped, alone, vacant, unloved, my face buried in a dull-coloured, discounted duvet. How long had I wandered this place? Hours? Months? I wished for relief, for death, for anything.

But then I looked up, and lo, a lift door just beyond a cabinet set. An elevator to freedom, or at the very least, to elsewhere. I jumped up and ran to the lift. I pressed both the buttons, up and down. A bell rang and the door opened. I entered, and the door closed. There were no individual buttons, just a keypad and a small LED screen with enough room to display 4, maybe 5 digits. Were there really that many floors to this place? This horrid hell that seemed to never end? I pressed, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and the lift lurched upward, then stopped just as quickly. I stepped out. The lift door closed behind me, and then vanished. I whimpered and fell to my knees as I saw it was yet another warehouse, the same as the one before, but with a slightly different style of simpering Swedish sofas and cheesy Chinese chairs. I quietly weeped, a weak wanderer in an inhuman creation of humanity.

But then, through the hum of air conditioning systems and the bleak, strained autotuned voice speaking rhythmically of barely hidden innuendos, I heard something. Sobs, not unlike mine. “Hello?” I tried to say, my voice scratchy and dry with tears. “Hello?” I tried again, a bit louder this time. The sobs stopped. “Hello?” I heard a voice say back to me. “Is someone there?”

“Yes!” I responded, “I’m over here!”

“Where is here?” the beautiful, slightly raspy voice responded.

“By an orange ottoman and a half-price pale purple lamp set.”

“I think I saw that before, stay there.”

I stood, waiting, by the clashing colours, for a moment.


The End

0 comments about this story Feed