Hall of Infinite Doors
You take a step towards the doors and they slide open before you, like those of an elevator. They open to reveal utter darkness. You step inside blindly, your feet finding no support. You begin falling, tumbling forward through a vast vacuum of space.
Terror wells up inside of you and you become certain that you will die whenever you land. A thousand thoughts race through your head; memories and regrets, dashed hopes and dreams, a million unanswerable "what if's".
You close your eyes tightly and pray for it all to end. It doesn't end for quite some time, you just tumble through the air towards your inevitable demise when suddenly you land hard on your back. A cloud of dust explodes into the air upon your landing and you lay there on your back for quite some time before reopening your eyes.
Far above you, a dim beacon in the darkness, is the rectangular glow of the doorway. You really wish you had been more careful with that first step.
Slowly, you rise from the ground, dusting your clothes off and rubbing at an ache in your back.
You look up again, recounting just how far you have fallen, just how far above you the open doorway is. You're lucky to be alive, really.
You look around by the dim light. Though walls surround you, stars can be seen above. You can't see the door anymore. Perhaps someone shut it. With a little stumbling, you make your way through the shell of what must have once been a door, and step outside of the structure.
You are on an empty street, a car is parked on the side of the road not far from where you stand. A few streetlights flicker on and off, twitching as though in the last throes of life. The car doesn't look like it's moved in some time.
The stars shine dimly above you, thin clouds curling around them eerily. There is a distant golden glow on the horizon, the oncoming approach of sunrise. Gradually, your surroundings become more and more visible.
Around you are the skeletal remains of what appears to have once been a town. Blacktopped streets, cement side walks, and decent looking homes. Upon closer inspection you can see that the homes are in disrepair; windows broken, lawns unkept, and doors off of hinges. There are no signs of life save for the chirping of birds welcoming the new day.
You wonder where everyone went.
As the sun climbs slowly into the sky, you search some of the homes.
You find a nearby home and knock on the door. After waiting a bit for someone to answer, you walk inside. A television plays a loud static and a recliner is reclined with a pipe sitting sideways atop a set of clothes that lay out like someone were wearing them. There is a small burn on the fabric of the chair, where the tobacco must have smoldered. A newspaper, still open but sloppily spread out, is on the floor.
A second pile of clothes is crumpled at the foot of the kitchen counter atop a pair of slippers. On the counter is a mold covered bowl with a metal spoon resting on its side. Everywhere in the home it looks as though the owners just walked off, discarding their clothes the way a snake discards its skin.
You knock before entering each time, but no one ever answers. Each place is unique, each home different. It's as though everyone somehow ceased to exist suddenly and without warning. It's like they all just disappeared.
Televisions are on, books open on desks, half written letters lye out on tables with pens beside them, spilled drinks, remnants of kitchen fires.
You wonder what could have happened to have caused this. At first you think there must have been some sort of nuclear attack, but there should be bodies.
You start following the roads, taking everything in, houses and businesses abandoned. You step into a corner shop and grab yourself a soft drink from a cooler in the back and a bag of potato chips from a shelf. The chips are still crisp, the soda still chemically delicious. You find a newspaper near the cashier desk and check the date on it. It was printed almost four months ago.
You grab some twinkies and chocolate bars for nourishment and return to the streets. You look up and down the road. A traffic light changes from red to green, but there are no vehicles to pay heed. A sign tells you that the nearest town, Shelbyville, is 6 miles down the road. You wonder if you shouldn't start walking.
But what if Shelbyville is just as desolate as this town? Perhaps you should just stay where you are and search for clues as to what happened here?
Which will it be?
Terror wells up inside of you and you become certain that you will die whenever you land. A thousand thoughts race through your head; memories and regrets, dashed hopes and dreams, a million unanswerable "what if's".
You close your eyes tightly and pray for it all to end. It doesn't end for quite some time, you just tumble through the air towards your inevitable demise when suddenly you land hard on your back. A cloud of dust explodes into the air upon your landing and you lay there on your back for quite some time before reopening your eyes.
Far above you, a dim beacon in the darkness, is the rectangular glow of the doorway. You really wish you had been more careful with that first step.
Slowly, you rise from the ground, dusting your clothes off and rubbing at an ache in your back.
You look up again, recounting just how far you have fallen, just how far above you the open doorway is. You're lucky to be alive, really.
You look around by the dim light. Though walls surround you, stars can be seen above. You can't see the door anymore. Perhaps someone shut it. With a little stumbling, you make your way through the shell of what must have once been a door, and step outside of the structure.
You are on an empty street, a car is parked on the side of the road not far from where you stand. A few streetlights flicker on and off, twitching as though in the last throes of life. The car doesn't look like it's moved in some time.
The stars shine dimly above you, thin clouds curling around them eerily. There is a distant golden glow on the horizon, the oncoming approach of sunrise. Gradually, your surroundings become more and more visible.
Around you are the skeletal remains of what appears to have once been a town. Blacktopped streets, cement side walks, and decent looking homes. Upon closer inspection you can see that the homes are in disrepair; windows broken, lawns unkept, and doors off of hinges. There are no signs of life save for the chirping of birds welcoming the new day.
You wonder where everyone went.
As the sun climbs slowly into the sky, you search some of the homes.
You find a nearby home and knock on the door. After waiting a bit for someone to answer, you walk inside. A television plays a loud static and a recliner is reclined with a pipe sitting sideways atop a set of clothes that lay out like someone were wearing them. There is a small burn on the fabric of the chair, where the tobacco must have smoldered. A newspaper, still open but sloppily spread out, is on the floor.
A second pile of clothes is crumpled at the foot of the kitchen counter atop a pair of slippers. On the counter is a mold covered bowl with a metal spoon resting on its side. Everywhere in the home it looks as though the owners just walked off, discarding their clothes the way a snake discards its skin.
You knock before entering each time, but no one ever answers. Each place is unique, each home different. It's as though everyone somehow ceased to exist suddenly and without warning. It's like they all just disappeared.
Televisions are on, books open on desks, half written letters lye out on tables with pens beside them, spilled drinks, remnants of kitchen fires.
You wonder what could have happened to have caused this. At first you think there must have been some sort of nuclear attack, but there should be bodies.
You start following the roads, taking everything in, houses and businesses abandoned. You step into a corner shop and grab yourself a soft drink from a cooler in the back and a bag of potato chips from a shelf. The chips are still crisp, the soda still chemically delicious. You find a newspaper near the cashier desk and check the date on it. It was printed almost four months ago.
You grab some twinkies and chocolate bars for nourishment and return to the streets. You look up and down the road. A traffic light changes from red to green, but there are no vehicles to pay heed. A sign tells you that the nearest town, Shelbyville, is 6 miles down the road. You wonder if you shouldn't start walking.
But what if Shelbyville is just as desolate as this town? Perhaps you should just stay where you are and search for clues as to what happened here?
Which will it be?