There was a light feather touch on the edge of my nose. I stirred awake. It took a while for me to notice there was something different. Beneath my back, the ground felt harder than the softness of my mattress. In that moment between wakefulness and sleepiness, I also sensed the strange impression that I was in a completely different location to the one I had gone to sleep in. Becoming more aware of my surroundings, I felt that things had changed.
I opened my eyes and looked directly up. The ceiling I had expected to see was not there. Instead the roof was a lot higher. Everything around me was of a school gymnasium, except that the roof was completely devoid of anything. Confident that my life was not in immediate danger, I turned my head from left to right. It was clearly evident that I was not in my room. I suddenly needed to know exactly where I was. I was in the center of the hall with double door entrances at the polar sides of the hall. Sunlight streamed through the high windows, grubby from an extended lack of care. It was the beam from the window hitting the exposed side of my face that had caused me to wake.
After I had made sure that everything was clear, I decided to get up. When I was standing, I saw that I was not dressed in my typical night time attire, but had somehow been clothed in a business suit, the black tie and pinstripe blazer lying alongside the bed on the floor. I could not remember the last time that I had worn a suit and even as I looked down at the tie, I realized that I had never been very good at doing up ties, so instead of bothering with it, I shoved it into the blazer pocket. For the first time in a long time, I did not know which way I needed to go. Each end of the long hall had closed double doors and even the high windows gave me no idea of the direction I needed to go. Thinking I needed a way to choose the best option I decided to turn to a method that had proven useful in the past.
Reaching into my pocket, I suddenly felt the smooth edge of a small disk. Taking it out of my pocket, I saw it glint gold in my hand. I knew that I had never owned a gold coin before, but at this moment anything useful would an aid my decision. Spinning it into the air, I mentally called, “Heads I go north.” The coin dropped to the ground and I noticed that the opposite end side was facing up. “South it is then.”
The doors opened easily when I applied pressure and I found myself facing a long corridor. As soon as I had stepped through, the doors closed behind me. I noticed that the doors had no handles or any visible manner in which they could be opened from the outside.
I now had the strange sensation that I should have selected the northern doorway instead. I also considered that I should probably not have placed my faith in the outcome of the spin of a coin I had no idea where it had come from. From the relative brightness that had filled the hall, the corridor I was facing was distinctly duller and for a couple of moments my eyes struggled to get clarity. Eventually, I was able to make out the rectangular shapes along each side of the corridor. Another set of double doors were at the end of the corridor.
Walking down the corridor, I tried to keep my eyes fixed on the doorways beckoned to me and at the end. It was only as I passed each of the doors on each side that I caught a glimpse through the small window in the door, of the rooms beyond. I did not notice the first couple of doors, but as I moved down, each of the subsequent one became more enticing.
“Perhaps,” I said as I began to wonder what actually did lie behind each of the doors. I could see that the rooms bordered on the exterior of the building. the light from outside creating bright, dust filled interiors. I had a sense that the rooms had been filled with activity not too long ago.
Finally, I could not stand the anticipation any longer. I stopped abruptly outside a doorway. I was still only half way to the end of the corridor.
“Just one look.” I knew that I needed to know what was beyond the door, what had caused the shift in activity in the room. I was also certain that, simply taking a look inside would not be harmful or change the way things were happening. Opening the door, I stepped inside.
I froze.
Even though the sun bathed each crevice of the room in its light, I pulled my jacket tight around my body. I dug my hands as far as they could go into its pockets and exhaled a long shaft of mist.
At the far end of the room was a large black board that stretched the length of the wall. It reminded me of my years at Bergvliet Primary School and Mr. Beecham. Between it and me were four rows of wooden desks, each one partnered by a low, wooden bench. The dust that was floating throughout the room slowly started to peter out and settle, brightening the room, dusted in age.
Slowly across the blackboard words began to appear. The writing was distinct and neat, each letter perfectly connected to its companions as it came into focus across the board. Red lines and points, stripes appearing as though the source of the words was an inkwell, invisible to me.
I tried not to disturb the settled dust in the room as I moved forward. Each step I made was deliberate after I studied the floor, trying to ensure that I did not step where too much dust had congealed.
When I reached the board, I took a more careful look at the words. The ink had started to run in places. Small rivulets forming at the base of some of the letters, creating a strange waterfall type appearance, elongating the words downwards. Carefully I touched the board, running my finger across the ink and drawing some of it against my flesh. It felt to thick to be ink. I rubbed it between my fingers. I suddenly realized that it had not been ink.
Blood.
I spun round. Not bothering with the dust, I rushed back towards the door. Pulling it closed behind me, I gathered my bearings before stumbling towards the exit doors. As soon as I crashed through the doors I dropped to the ground. I did not see the hand by the side of my head, placing a small instant photograph in the crutch of my arm. When I looked, I saw an image of me standing by the blackboard, the red lettered words bright on blackboard in front.
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Fifteen years have passed. Now, I realize more and more the importance of that experience. Even as I sit at the monitor, tapping away at the keyboard and remembering the images I had burned into my consciousness on that day. But there is more and I stare at the small photograph siting on the mantelpiece. Although the image has darkened over the years and even those that have seen it have not understood, I know that it will continue to provide me with ideas and inspiration. The words on the wall, dark, red, and bold was always there to prompt me onto the next story.
Giving myself a quick stretch, I pushed myself up from the workstation and walked out of my office. As I passed the small picture, I gave it a quick touch, giving myself permission that I would not lose the inspiration that emanated from it each day. I had never really understood how I had arrived at that place, what had really taken place. Although I had tried several times since then to return to there, I was never able to find it again.
Except for the faded picture and the gold coin on a chain round my neck, it had completely disappeared.
Becoming Writer 2016 Anniversary Contest 