The House That No One Built
Part 3
“This is some sick joke.” Serene backed out of the Atrium and into the hallway she came from. As she turned around, she noticed that the pictures had changed. When she saw them earlier, the ones closest to this end were post-apocalyptic. Now, they were closer to elysian fields.
Soldiers on horseback. Armies on foot. Bodies on the ground. The scenes grew worse as she made her way back to the split in the hall. The pictures had changed order and became more gruesome.
Mysterious note.
Dining room ghosts.
Disturbing pictures with a dark theme.
Her own voice.
How did she get herself into this situation?
It started with a phone call. One of those telemarketer-style calls that were clearly automated. She did what everyone else did and hung up. It kept calling, then texting, then emailing. Even after she blocked it.
It was enough to annoy anyone. Then, just as they had started, they stopped. Nothing. For months.
Then she got a letter in the mail. An invitation to an escape room adventure. She had always wanted to try one. It promised a once-in-a-lifetime experience that she would never forget. Who could pass that up?
A week later and here she was. A crazy house filled with someone’s sick sense of humor. An escape room adventure that seemed to include the whole house. Someone went all out on this one.
Serene smiled, a little nervous and a little relieved. It was all part of the game. A setup that put any of the others to shame. She relaxed as she turned down the hallway that led to the ballroom. Even though the dining room illusion was just that, she wasn’t quite ready to face it again.
By her count, it shouldn’t have been any more than ten feet to the ballroom. A short distance, if she guessed the dimensions of the house right. So why was she walking for so long? She couldn’t even see the end of the hall, not that there would have been much light anyway.
She pulled out her phone. Pictures. She should take some pics to post later. Right now she just needed the light. She stopped and fumbled with her phone. Of course, it would choose now not to respond right. There, the flashlight.
She turned it on and pointed the light down the hall — or the wall? She turned. Another wall, and a third. How could she be surrounded by three walls in a corridor? There was only one direction to go so she took it, shining the light ahead of her.
As much as she didn’t want to go back to the dining room it looked like she had no choice. The other direction was a dead end. The walk seemed longer this time. Probably because she was lost in thought the first time. Still, distance doesn’t change. Does it?
She remembered the hallway being straight before but now she can clearly see its curve.
“Pull it together,” she muttered to herself. “An adventure like no other. That should have been a clue.”
Finally, the end of the corridor. “Door? Really? A frickin’ door?”
She turned the knob and opened the door. It swung on its hinges with ease, as though they had just been oiled. She stepped into the room and the lights turned on. The door closed quietly behind her.
Books from floor to ceiling lined the room on all sides. On two sides there was an alcove with high back leather chairs and a small table between them. In the middle of the room sat a large desk with a four-foot-tall globe beside it.
More chair and table settings scattered the room. It smelled of old books, cigars, bourbon or cognac, or some kind of rich person’s alcohol. She could smell a semi-sweet smell. A pipe maybe. This one was stronger, fresher.
She stepped further into the room, taking in the vast amounts of books. It would take a lifetime to read through them all. With her attention on the books and ladders, she took small steps backward in order to gaze in awe at the height of the walls. She almost felt dizzy.
“Careful,” a man’s voice said behind her. Serene jumped at the sound and turned to face him. He seemed to be a middle-aged man with a peppered beard and two gray patches on his hair near his temple. The bags under his eyes aged him far more than the brightness of his blue eyes. She could see years and youth in his face at the same time.
He sucked on his pipe, held the smoke for a moment, and exhaled a steady stream with a turned head. “Welcome to the reading room.”
If you’re looking for random fiction, Micheal is your writer. You’ve seen his other work and his fiction does not disappoint. Grab a cup of Coffee, get out of your head and into his imagination. If you dare.