Cave
The candle is almost burned out. I’m not sure if I can handle being in here in complete darkness. I’ve checked the walls repeatedly; I have no idea how I was placed in here. It’s so cold, my hands and feet feel like they’re frozen. My hand is so cold it’s difficult to even write this. I could try to warm
Unknown Location, Room with Door
I’m out of the cave. As I was writing the last entry, the candle blew out. I’m not sure how. It was encased in a glass lantern and there was no breeze. I was sitting in the dark for what felt like hours. Then suddenly, I knew that the chalk-white man was in the cave with me. I don’t know how I knew. Nothing in the cave changed, and it was completely silent—but still, I knew. After a while, I could feel him right next to me. I could feel the heat radiating from him, and I couldn’t move.
Suddenly, I felt a searing hot hand on my forehead, and heard myself shout into the dark, before losing consciousness.
I have no idea how long I was asleep. When I woke up, I was in this room. Once again, my journal and pen were lying next to me. There’s not much to the room. It’s empty, with bare stone walls and a thick wooden door. I know it sounds strange, but it’s a relief to be in an actual room, or dungeon—anything but that cave…that tomb. There’s hardly any light in here. Right now, I’m writing this next to the door, using the sliver of light coming in from under it. I can barely see the page in front of me.
I’ve already checked the walls and door. The walls are made of stone and are very cold. And while there is an arched door—a possible means of escape—it feels old, thick, and heavy. Like something from a castle or fortress. I tried pulling it open, but it wouldn’t budge at all.
The light coming from underneath the door is flickering, which probably means it’s from a fire. I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse, but at least I’m not sitting in complete darkness. It’s still freezing though, and I’m extremely hungry and thirsty. I’ve been straining to hear anything from whatever is on the other side of this door, but it’s eerily silent.
I’ve never been more afraid in my life. I’m so full of fear it feels like I’m going numb.
Room with Door
Nothing is happening. I’m trying to stay awake, but I keep passing out, and when I wake up, I have no idea how long I was asleep. I’m so cold. I’m afraid my hands and feet are going to freeze off. I’m trying not to think about food. I feel like I’m going to die here.
Room with Door
Someone came inside the room when I was asleep. There’s a metal plate with bread on it and a metal pitcher of water, right next to the door. I tried to open the door again, but it was still locked. I tried not to eat or drink anything, but I was so hungry and thirsty. I kept thinking that the food was poisoned, but there was no way to know. I had a choice between being potentially poisoned or starving and dehydrating to death. Besides, I figured that if the man wanted to kill me, he would have done it already. I ate half the bread and drank half the water. I was expecting both to be somehow dirty or spoiled, but the water tasted clean, and the bread was actually good. It was soft and tasted like butter and honey. I wanted to ration the food—who knows how long before I’m given more.
Room with Door
I finished all the bread and water. I could not help it. I don’t know how long I’ve been here, but it was long enough to feel like I was starving again. I’ve noticed that I’m feeling very dizzy, and strangely, a bit calmer. Yes, obviously, I’m assuming the bread and water were drugged. At least both weren’t poisoned. And if the alternative was to starve, I really had no choice.
Room with Door
I woke up to more bread and water next to the door. How does he keep entering the room without waking me up? I ate and drank everything quickly. I hate to say this, but the bread is delicious.
I feel so strange.
Room with Door
The door is open.
I had fallen asleep leaning against the wall opposite it, and when I woke up the door was wide open. There’s a large stone chamber outside the door. It looks circular. There is a fire in the center, burning in a large stone pit. It’s such an odd relief to have light flooding into the room. More bread and water are next to the door, inside the room.
I’m not sure why, but I haven’t eaten the bread yet. I haven’t stepped out the door. I haven’t even stood up. Why? Because it’s obvious, that’s what he wants me to do. It’s practically an invitation. All I did was start writing this entry. This journal has become a lifeline to me. It’s my only anchor.
I’m just so relieved to see light and to see the door open. I don’t want this feeling of relief to end. Something in the bread, or water, or both, is affecting me. I feel too calm, too accepting. My mind feels clear, but slower somehow. And more than anything, I feel that I need more bread. Not because of hunger, but because of want. I know that I have to get up eventually. I have to walk through that door. But for a few more moments, I’m just going to stare at the fire in the middle of the circular stone chamber. I’m going to continue staring at the light.
He’s toying with me. He’s giving me the illusion of freedom. This is twisted and dark, but more than that, it’s cruel.
The Chamber
The first thing I did was drink the water and eat the bread. The taste of the honey and butter was fantastic. Still holding on to my journal and pen, I slowly poked my head out of the room and tried to get my bearings.
The circular chamber was made of the same, ancient-looking stone as the walls of the room and had a dozen doors spaced evenly around its perimeter, with a fire-pit at the center. I also noticed that it had a very high ceiling. As I walked out of the room, it became apparent that the chamber was empty, as far as I could see.
I immediately ran to all the other wooden doors and tried to open them, but they were all locked and felt just as heavy and impenetrable as the door to my room. I was being very quiet at first, like I didn’t want that monster to hear me, but then I realized how stupid that was. He knew I was out of my room. I was exactly where he wanted me to be. So, instead, I started calling for help and banging on all the doors. Nothing came of it. I then searched the walls and the rest of the chamber, for anything useful—any sign of a passage or means of escape, anything that could be used as a weapon. Again, nothing.
It was only when I sat next to the fire-pit that I saw water and three loaves of the same bread there—warm and soft from the fire. The heat from the flame felt so good it was almost intoxicating, and as I warmed myself, I could once again start to feel my numbed hands and feet. As I looked into the fire-pit, I noticed that there was no wood at its base. No holes or pipes that might be letting in gas. Nothing but black flames were at the bottom of the pit. I didn’t care though; I was just so happy to be warm.
Then, before I could stop myself, I had eaten all three loaves of bread.
The Chamber
I’m still here, sitting and writing next to the unnatural fire. I tried opening the doors again, but they didn’t budge. It’s so warm and I ate so much sweet bread, it’s an effort not to fall asleep.
The Chamber
So many thoughts keep popping in and out of my head. I keep thinking about Mom and Dad, my aunt, and my friends. And while a part of me is so comforted by these memories, another part of me wants to not let myself think about them. As if not thinking about happier times will somehow keep me stronger here.
But try as I might, my mind continues to wander. I suppose it’s the lack of distraction, although you would think that the constant threat of death and the waves of crippling terror would be enough of a distraction.
I keep thinking back to our old house, and all the random things that happened there. Not important events, but just random ones that now seem so much more special.
I remember when I was much, much younger, I would rush home from school and immediately turn on the TV. All my favorite cartoons were showing on cable, and I would sit there, still in my school clothes
, and watch an hour or two of television. Or sometimes, if I were in the mood, I would just watch things online. I knew Dad was in the house somewhere, getting his own work done, and I just remember feeling so light and happy. It’s such a simple memory, and really, not very exciting. But I can still remember the feeling it had given me: I had completed a hard day at school and I finally had freedom. Instead of math, science, and history, I could focus on the fun adventures of all my favorite cartoon characters. Back then it was so easy for me to so completely lose myself in cartoons. I honestly don’t think I ever realized that time was passing. If I were allowed to sit there for ten hours, I would have. School and cartoons—that was my world.
Well, that was my world from Monday to Thursday. Sometimes, on Friday, Mom, Dad and I went to a Chinese restaurant—I can’t remember the name now—and we would have these big, fancy dinners. At least, at the time, they seemed big and fancy to me. Now, in retrospect, I realize that it was not a nice restaurant at all, but at that age, it was awesome! Then after dinner, we would go to the movies. And even if we had just eaten dinner, I would always buy popcorn and chocolate-covered raisins at the movies, and always ended up bringing the leftovers home.
I just realized that my memories have a lot to do with watching movies and television! But I suppose it was the feeling of these everyday events that I cherished. Mom was alive, Dad was happy, and we were all together, eating Chinese food and escaping into these bold adventures on the big screen in front of us.
It’s funny, I’m sitting here in a stone chamber, with a psycho-demon captor who can enter at any moment, and these are the times that I’m remembering. Not the parties that we had for my birthdays, not the gifts, not the so-called big events in my life—just small everyday occurrences.
Calm down, calm down.
Okay…I’m taking deep breaths now. My anxiety is coming in waves.
All of a sudden, I feel panicked again. I’m trying to stay calm and keep it together, but I don’t know if I can.
Thinking of happy memories is making my current situation feel even more desperate and hopeless.
What’s going to happen to me here? I don’t want my time in this chamber to be the last experiences I ever have.
The Chamber
He’s in the chamber with me. The chalk-white man. I woke up next to the fire and saw him standing in front of one of the doors. He was staring at me. I stood up and starting yelling at him, asking him what he wanted from me. I asked him where my dad was. I threatened him. I tried to reason and bargain with him. I told him my father would pay him a lot of money if I was returned safely, or even just left free on the side of the road. I told him I had no idea where I was, and I couldn’t lead anyone back to him even if I wanted to. Through all this, the bald, pale man just silently stared back at me with his dark eyes. Feeling the panic welling up in me, I just picked up the journal and started writing.
He’s still staring at me, even as I write this. I only just now noticed that the door to the room I was formerly in is now shut. What does he want?
I don’t want to look up at him. I remember what he did at the cabin. All the impossible things he did. What is he?
I just glanced up and caught his eye. He looks insane.
He’s smiling.
The Chamber
I can’t believe this is happening. What’s wrong with me?
I’m still sitting by the fire writing this, but that deranged psycho has left. He exited through one of the doors. He didn’t pull out a key or anything, it just seemed to automatically unlock for him.
But before he left…I just don’t understand what came over me.
He just continued to stand in front of one of the doors, staring at me. He didn’t move; he didn’t speak…nothing. He was just silently terrorizing me for what felt like several hours. Then, without warning, he slowly glided to two of the arched wooden doors and opened them. After that, he walked a good distance away from the doors to see what I would do.
From my position in the chamber, I peered into both rooms and saw, through the firelight, that one room was empty but led to another closed door. When I looked through the other open door, I thought that the room was empty as well, but then as I glanced at the floor, I saw that there was a loaf of that same honey bread there.
I didn’t understand what he wanted me to do. I knew that the additional door in the first room was locked. At least, I assumed that it was. Why would he leave it unlocked? Or maybe it was a closet and didn’t lead anywhere. Either way, it wasn’t an escape. Why would it be?
Still, he waited.
Eventually, I slowly stood up and walked to the doors, looking back at him to make sure that he wasn’t rushing toward me. He wasn’t. He was just standing there, observing.
Was he going to lock me back into whichever room I went into, away from the light and warmth of the fire? Could that other door in the room lead somewhere? And the room with the bread, that just didn’t make any sense.
My first instinct was to go to the room with the additional door and try to escape. Even if the other door was locked, at least I attempted it. But why would it be unlocked? And even if it did lead somewhere, he could easily just glide up to me, touch my forehead, and knock me out again. I thought of going back and sitting next to the fire and not entering any room. Was that what he wanted? What that the answer to this sick test?
But the room with the bread…at least I knew that I could eat the bread. In a weird way, it was a type of certainty. Suddenly, I felt an all-consuming hunger for the sweet bread. I needed it. I needed to have it. He was not going to let me go. There was no way that the room with the extra door led to freedom.
I quickly made up my mind and bolted into the room with the bread, grabbed it, and rushed back out into the chamber. I was about to jump into the room with the extra door, when both of the main doors suddenly slammed shut, and I heard their locks click into place.
I was stuffing the buttery bread into my mouth and staring at the door that might have led to my freedom, when a shrill, shrieking laughter echoed around the chamber.
I turned to look at the creature, and saw him smiling grotesquely back at me, his gaunt features even more disturbing as he laughed.
In that moment, the only thought I had was to finish eating the bread. Finish eating it before he takes it away from me. As I continued to devour the loaf, the monster kept laughing, and then he finally uttered a word, with a thick, heavily accented voice.
“Lenaru.”
As soon as he said the word, I felt myself falling to the floor. When I woke up, he was gone.
What have I done? Did I just ruin my one chance to escape?
The Chamber
Lenaru. Lenaru. Lenaru.
It could mean anything. His name? Some weird incantation? It made me pass out. Or did he make me pass out? Or maybe it was the bread? It was much sweeter than the previous loaves.
I still can’t believe I didn’t enter the room with the extra door. But what’s really scaring me, is that if I had to do it all over again, I probably wouldn’t do it any differently.
Even now, I’m so hungry.
The Chamber
I woke up next to the fire. There were over a dozen dead squirrels on the floor around me.
I tried opening the doors again, but they were all locked. I’m not sure how much longer I can go on like this. It feels like I’m stuck in a nightmare and I can’t wake up. But the truly sick thing is that I find myself wanting the psycho to show up again. The anticipation of him showing up is scarier than his presence.
The squirrels smell terrible.
The Chamber
I woke up on the floor next to the fire and felt a hunger I had never felt before. It was completely overwhelming and had a life of its own. It felt like if I didn’t satisfy it, I would die.
Before I could stop myself, I reached out for one of the dead squirrels and bit into its rotting chest.
I think I’m losing my mind.
Unkn
own Location/The Chamber
I woke up from a violent sleep, fully expecting to see a half-eaten squirrel corpse lying next to me. Instead, I sat bolt upright when I discovered that I was in the middle of a vast forest. I stood up and looked around me, and could not believe where I was. Where was the chamber? How did I get here?
All around me were the thickest, tallest trees I could have ever imagined. The ground was covered with lush flowers of every shape and color, and the air was heavily perfumed with their fragrance.
Then from this paradise, five women—who I instantly knew were sisters—seemed to materialize out of the wilderness. They were beyond glorious. They were each strength, knowledge, and power incarnate. Even though I was standing among them, I knew that they could not see me. As I stared at the women, completely dumbstruck, I automatically knew that they were ancient beyond my understanding of the word and more powerful than I could ever imagine.
They were the seasons: Winter, Spring, Summer, Autumn…and a fifth sister. All at once, I knew each sister well.
Winter was bold and unforgiving. She understood that life had to give way to death, so that new life could emerge. Her skin was made of ice, and she held long, sharp icicles in her hands.
Spring was flirty and playful. She understood that her role was to bloom new life, repeatedly. Although she was a creator, she had little regard for life, for she knew how easily she could replace it. Her long hair was made up of petals and blossoms, and when she giggled, it was like listening to a baby crying and laughing at the same time.
Summer was the strong sister. She was abundance, safety, and strength. She never knew death or want, nor did she have any interest in it. She radiated heat and life, and her eyes emitted a blindingly bright light.
Autumn was the quiet sister. She understood loss and how all life fades. But she did not understand the joy of birth or the release of death. She simply knew that nothing lasted. Of all the sisters, she was the most bitter. She wore thin robes made of faded light.
Then there was the fifth sister, and I instantly knew that she was the long winter. She was lasting darkness. Every so often, the world would fall into a prolonged age of ice and death, but then would eventually emerge new. After that, the cycle of the other four sisters could continue in harmony. This sister’s name was Lenaru. She understood the need for total destruction and death, in order to start anew. Of the five sisters, she was the most knowledgeable and radiated the most power. After all, her season, though rare, lasted by far the longest.
It Took Billy Page 2
