Something After
Chapter Four.
Even though I knew it was a terrible idea to leave myself unguarded, I closed my eyes for just a moment to collect myself, to brace myself for whoever, whatever, was waiting for me, the mastermind in this game of cat and mouse.
As I did so, I could feel, for the second time of however long I had been wandering in the dimly lit hospital, the skittering of an unwavering gaze upon me. Unlike the first time, however, I felt only slightly unnerved, instead resigned to my encounter with the unknown being; with this resolve came a kind of determination not to give in, not to let whatever was trying to reach me, or scare me, or whatever it was trying to do, win this game of what seemed to be wits.
Once I had reached this conclusion, I opened my eyes, braced for what seemed might be an upcoming battle; maybe I shouldn’t have closed my senses off for one brief calming moment, for once I had reopened myself to the outside world, everything around me had changed. Instead of a darkness only dissolved by a low glow far away in the back, there was a blinding light everywhere, enough so that I was surprised that even in my self-induced stupor I hadn’t noticed the blaze burning into my eyes, regardless of their closed state.
At first, the room was too illuminated for me to even hazard a guess at what was contained inside the four immaculate walls, free of even the smallest of marks, all white and bleached and blameless. Slowly, slowly, the light dimmed, just enough for me to blink past the colors swirling in my vision, and I must admit, whatever I had been preparing myself for had nothing on what I saw in front of myself, spanning all around the room, from left to right, leaving only enough space for the door I had come through, now disappeared.
From ceiling to floor, scattered and piled and leaving barely enough space for me to breathe, there were televisions: from old to new, the ages of these devices varied, along with colors and brands and sizes. The one common factor of the machines was only one thing: that they were not working, turned on and full of static.
To be honest, I was confused; nowhere was the source of those unwavering eyes, filling me with chills and unease. Maybe, maybe I would consider whatever it had been was hiding, trying to bring forth even more tension from me, stretching the moment on and on, but that was obviously not the case: there was nowhere for that being to hid, for all the machinery took up every available area, all except for a walkway up to the largest television in the room. There was nowhere to hide, not without displacing and breaking one of the objects.
The temperature was no longer quite as freezing, although still cool, and I couldn’t help but feel that I had passed some sort of test. I had kept my mind clear, hadn’t come close to panicking, and maybe I was being rewarded for my show of bravery, however small it was.
No sooner than that thought passed through my head that the scene changed once again. Apparently, whatever was controlling this hospital didn’t like the pride I was feeling, and was determined to level the playing ground.
With a slight click, the static went away, filling the room with a condemning silence that unnerved me even more than the constant noise of fuzz.
With a slight click, the televisions, as one, changed from black and white nothing to something else completely, the forming of a picture.
As I did so, I could feel, for the second time of however long I had been wandering in the dimly lit hospital, the skittering of an unwavering gaze upon me. Unlike the first time, however, I felt only slightly unnerved, instead resigned to my encounter with the unknown being; with this resolve came a kind of determination not to give in, not to let whatever was trying to reach me, or scare me, or whatever it was trying to do, win this game of what seemed to be wits.
Once I had reached this conclusion, I opened my eyes, braced for what seemed might be an upcoming battle; maybe I shouldn’t have closed my senses off for one brief calming moment, for once I had reopened myself to the outside world, everything around me had changed. Instead of a darkness only dissolved by a low glow far away in the back, there was a blinding light everywhere, enough so that I was surprised that even in my self-induced stupor I hadn’t noticed the blaze burning into my eyes, regardless of their closed state.
At first, the room was too illuminated for me to even hazard a guess at what was contained inside the four immaculate walls, free of even the smallest of marks, all white and bleached and blameless. Slowly, slowly, the light dimmed, just enough for me to blink past the colors swirling in my vision, and I must admit, whatever I had been preparing myself for had nothing on what I saw in front of myself, spanning all around the room, from left to right, leaving only enough space for the door I had come through, now disappeared.
From ceiling to floor, scattered and piled and leaving barely enough space for me to breathe, there were televisions: from old to new, the ages of these devices varied, along with colors and brands and sizes. The one common factor of the machines was only one thing: that they were not working, turned on and full of static.
To be honest, I was confused; nowhere was the source of those unwavering eyes, filling me with chills and unease. Maybe, maybe I would consider whatever it had been was hiding, trying to bring forth even more tension from me, stretching the moment on and on, but that was obviously not the case: there was nowhere for that being to hid, for all the machinery took up every available area, all except for a walkway up to the largest television in the room. There was nowhere to hide, not without displacing and breaking one of the objects.
The temperature was no longer quite as freezing, although still cool, and I couldn’t help but feel that I had passed some sort of test. I had kept my mind clear, hadn’t come close to panicking, and maybe I was being rewarded for my show of bravery, however small it was.
No sooner than that thought passed through my head that the scene changed once again. Apparently, whatever was controlling this hospital didn’t like the pride I was feeling, and was determined to level the playing ground.
With a slight click, the static went away, filling the room with a condemning silence that unnerved me even more than the constant noise of fuzz.
With a slight click, the televisions, as one, changed from black and white nothing to something else completely, the forming of a picture.