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Everything felt like it was floating. The world was spinning, stands of hair filtering the binding light as something pulled back on his chest and locked him there. It all felt so slow, one turn, two turns, almost a full third before a crushing force made everything turn black. The darkness was suffocating, chest painfully tight and lungs screaming.
Air suddenly flooded into his lungs, his entire body jolting and coming to life as a spark shot through him. Sitting up made his head spin, vision blurred horrendously as a pulse of pain throbbed in his skull. It was dim in here, musty and cool as he stared at his own legs. Torn jeans, boots.. both familiar and not. The man lifted his hand and looked at it, a slightly tattered baggy sleeve slipping down his thin wrist. He knew it was his, but somehow it felt foreign.
The man sat there, hanging his head as he waited for the throbbing in his head to cease. He couldn't tell how long he sat there, mind completely blank and the hazy dream before he woke getting fuzzier as he sat. As soon as he felt stable he took a good look around.
There were wooden crates around him, fairly small and bigger boxes behind them, all overflowing with miscellaneous items. He saw garbage, cans, clothes, old food, broken lamps and furniture. The man narrowed his eyes, a haze filling his head. Where was he? What was all of this? He silently thanked the dull light he had that he could see. Though the source of light couldn't be seen. Perhaps he had a light on him? The man blinked slowly, trying to recall.
Though no matter how hard he tried, he could not recall anything. It was a though he had no memories. Where was he? How did he get here? He had no idea. His limbs were familiar, but not at the same time. He tried to recall a name and found his head only seemed to fill with static. Perhaps he hit his head? Maybe someone else had. Was he abducted? His mind was racing, whatever little bit of memory he had when he woke up completely lost in the static.
After being caught up in his own head for too long he forced himself up. His legs felt weak, as though he hadn't walked in days. He steadied himself against the wall before walking toward the worn red door before him. The surprise he felt when it simply clicked open left him even more confused. If he was abducted why was the door unlocked? Had he really just hit his head? Perhaps this was his home?
One foot in front of the other, he began to walk. The halls were very dimly lit by what looked like wall mounted lanterns. The flickering almost made him want to believe they were candles but based on the age of the hall they were merely faulty light bulbs.
His mouth opened but not a single word came out. The silence immidately made his mind race. Had he really forgotten how to speak? He tried again and again as he walked along the wall but found not a single sound came out. Brows furrowed he continued, finding the dim halls were almost like a labyrinth. Dead ends, tons of turns, intersections that looped him back around. He was surprised how long it took him to find the same door. It also disappointed him to see that there were more doors beside it he had missed upon leaving the room.
One by one he checked the rooms, opting to peek through the key holes than knock. Something in his gut told him knocking was a bad idea. After checking the various doors he traveled down the hall and found a massive steel door. Something about it made his skin crawl. As he set his hand on the cold metal door knob static fizzled to life in his head.. and across his vision.
Static. A door with a number. Static. Lightning, a cat screaming near by. Static. An ominous chuckle. Static...
He blinked and found himself staring at the metal door. What was that? Another blink and he went through the door. It was just a large open room with a few support beams in it. He walked around, seeing another metal door and a stairwell. The stairwell was pitch black, but that same light seemed to radiate from him and illuminate it. The light was blue in color now that he could really focus on it, and the way it ripped made it almost look like water. How odd.
The man set one foot on the stairs when he felt another wave of static hit him. This time it was just static and an overwhelming pain in his chest. It felt like he couldn't breathe. He staggered back from the stairs, gripping onto a pillar for support until his head cleared. He stared down at the floor until he could see it again, the dirty stone and dust clear once the static faded. He couldn't help the feeling that the way he felt and saw the tv static was unnatural, but at the same time completely normal. This was a reoccurring feeling. Things familiar and not, right and wrong all at once. It was as though two parts were trying to become one.
After fully regaining his composure the man tried to go through the other door. As soon as he stepped up to it an icy bolt of fear shot through him. He wasn't sure what it was, but something in him knew he shouldn't go this way. Left with no other choice he went back the way he came. The man passed the red doors, touching the knobs to see if they brought on any feelings. Nothing. Back into the labyrinth he wandered, gazing at the oceanic light on the wall.
The way it illuminated made it clear it couldn't be from a flashlight. It was too bright to be anything like a glow stick. The longer he dwelled on it the more likely it seemed he himself was glowing. People didn't glow.. did they? His brow furrowed as he stopped. He lifted his hands to look at them. No matter how hard he tried to think he could not recall what he looked like. Shakily he gripped at the air a few times, making sure he really was moving before continuing on his path. Surely there would be something this way.
Dark halls twisted on for what felt like forever, only hearing the sound of his own foot steps. The man was starting to feel a build up of anxiety in his chest, eyes wandering side to side as he walked. Was there anyone else here? Where were they? Was he really alone down here? Where was here? Why was he here? Questions swirled in a terrible brew in his mind until he found a wide stairwell. Though unlike before this stairwell went down, and it looked even darker down there.
The man stared for what felt like an eternity before he tried his luck going down. One foot down, nothing happened. Another, still nothing. One step at a time he made his way deeper, the atmosphere definitely more suffocating. That same familiar blue glow drifted across the walls as he walked, swallowing hard as he turned the dark unfamiliar corners. He let his hand run along the cold stone wall as he walked, gazing out into the darkness.
Down here it felt like time stopped he didn't know how long he had wandered, how many circles he had gone in before he heard something. The man stopped and stood for a bit, feeling his ear flick. Could it always do that? It felt natural.. but he couldn't be sure. The sound he heard didn't come again, making him swallow hard before he continued. He must've imagined it. He walked, starting to get a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. Dread was creeping in, then the overwhelming feeling of someone watching him. It had to be his imagination.
The man looked down at his feet as he walked, brows knit tightly as he tried harder than ever to remember anything. Anything would do. But there was nothing. It was as though his entire memory had simply been erased. Once again he was lost in his thoughts. Then his ear twitched at a noise. He was certain this time. The sound was unmistakable. It was a footstep. A heavy footstep.
The man looked up from the ground, seeing what appeared to be a flame burning in the distance. He narrowed his eyes as he saw the figure standing below it; a man. A large, built man in a chef's uniform... and a massive kitchen knife slung over his shoulder. His eyes met the piercing, glowing crimson eyes of the cook, static immidately flooding his mind and vision.
He could see clips so vividly in his head it felt like a projector was in his brain. Everything he saw was in first person. He could see a plate of bubbling soup, deep purple in color. He could feel the anxiety the sight brought as a shaky hand brought a spoon up to his lips. Before he could taste it the static cut to a dining room. He was wavering, his chest heaving as he haphazardly leaned against the table. Heavy foot steps were approaching fast outside. He was suddenly on the floor, crawling desperately under the table and curling up. The heavy foot steps got closer..
His vision cleared, he could see the cook before him, staring. The long knife glinted with the flickering flame. Panic overwhelmed the man who had been wandering. Without even thinking he turned and ran right into the wall.. and went right through it. In the moment it didn't even occur to him, simply bolting away, passing through wall after wall until he felt he was far enough. His heart was racing, blood pounding in his ears as he panted and tried to calm down. The raw fear from seeing that man made him feel... had he hurt him? Really hurt him? Was it his fault he was here? Did he lock him down here?
After a bit he came back to his senses, trying to hold onto the fragmented memories tied to the chef as he observed his new environment. It was just another hall. Just as dark as before. It seemed this basement was never ending. Then realization hit him like a brick. He had passed right through the wall. Quickly he brought his hands up and looked at them. They appeared solid, just as they had before. He wasn't transparent like a spirit.. if they really were transparent or real. He also recalled touching the wall before seeing the cook. Then how did he pass through?
Slowly, nervously, he placed a hand on the wall. He felt the cool stone, his palm resting against the dusty wall. Solid. He pressed against it, still solid. Perhaps an ability he had yet to gain control of? The panic had driven him to bolt, he hadn't even been thinking. Perhaps a clear mind would help. He tried clearing his head and pressing again and found no result. It was a task for later. The wandering continued until he found stairs up again.
Unsurprisingly the man was back in the first set of halls he had wandered. Slowly he found his way back to the red doors, the store room he seemed to have woken up in. He checked the other rooms again and found all of them empty. He had no idea what time it was, perhaps if anyone did live there they were out. Against what he felt right in his gut, he decided to enter a room. The man looked at the tiny bed, it had to belong to a child based on the colors and decorative puzzle floor mat. Games and game pieces were scattered about as well.
He looked around the small room and spotted a mirror resting in the corner. His ears perked. A mirror. Maybe seeing himself would jog his memory. Before he took a look he realized that most of the memories he had before were gone, only the faint recollection of a diningroom left and the overwhelming fear tied to the cook he had seen. Just what was wrong with him? He shook his head and walked up to the mirror, finally taking a look at himself.
Staring back were bright, glowing cyan eyes that matched choppy cyan hair. A soft face, young but by no means a child. Thin build. Finned ears. Two what appeared to be metal antennas on his head like that of a television. And a glowing skeletal fish tail.
He jerked back, horrified the reflection did the same. It was him. Almost nervously he leaned forward to look harder, staring at his face as he put a hand to his cheek. The reflection copied. His face and build felt familiar, right... but everything else didn't. He hadn't always been like this... had he. His brows furrowed. Just what had he forgotten. How could he remember? The answer had to be somewhere in this place.. he just had to find it.
Before he could work up the courage to head back out he felt a spark between his antennas. Something felt like it was pulling an invisible string to him. It wanted him up. To whatever was above this dark labyrinth of halls. It was almost instinctual to follow maybe there was a purpose to the feeling. He wasn't sure, letting himself follow the feeling. The man was sure he could hear someone running and panting. Another spark, brief static, a voice in his head he wasn't familiar with. Another memory was waiting. Somehow.. it didn't feel like his, but someone else's. If they were in the same boat, perhaps they needed to see it..