by The Awethors
Chapter 1
The scene before him was terrifying, yet there was an almost unbearable beauty as well. The dark storm clouds swirled and shifted in endless patterns with an unending dance of lightning mixed in. From behind the clouds a faint light could be seen, but its source was never revealed. The lightning was blinding at times, but there was something about the other light he could not quite figure out. Despite its dimness, he could not shake the feeling it was an anchor of order for all the chaos surrounding him.
It would have been disconcerting and would have caused him to be disoriented and dizzy if not for the presence of the solid structure upon which he stood. Paul wondered if he was dreaming because it was so unreal. No sky, no ground, nothing but the storm dancing above and below, as if the tower he was in were floating in the clouds. Dream, or nightmare? It was unsettling and frightening, but his logical mind grasped to what was more real — the balcony upon which he stood.
He struggled to remember, what had happened? He was Paul Darvin, computer programmer, software developer, and coder. He was twenty-eight years old and worked at Winston-Lackey Corporation in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma as one of their lead developers. He remembered he had gone to bed and slept, but the next thing he knew, he woke here — wherever here was. Could he be dreaming?
His logical mind dwelt on the possibility for a moment. The balcony felt real. He could feel the roughness of the stonework beneath his hands and the grains of loose rock under his fingertips. He could feel the wind blowing and shifting in different directions around him and the presence of moisture in the air. With the loud crack and fading rumble of the thunder, he pinched himself and felt pain. It certainly seemed real.
He appeared to be in some kind of stone tower that stretched into the clouds in both directions. He turned and walked back through the open archway to the room he had awakened in. As he passed beneath the arch, the sound of the raging storm vanished into complete silence, as if some invisible barrier were there. It startled him almost as much as when those sounds had assailed his ears when he first walked out onto the balcony.
The room was about a hundred and fifty square feet in size and contained a four post bed, a small wooden desk, and a chair. Four tapestries, depicting abstract drawings he did not understand, were hung around the walls, and opposite the bed was a large mirror. The desk had a single center drawer. On the bed were a comfortable mattress, pillows, sheets, and blankets. A stone doorway on the far side of the room had a smooth metallic door with no visible means to open it. It stood out from the rest of the room because it resembled polished aluminum.
His mind wandered over what had happened to him. When he had first awakened on the bed, he had been disoriented, like when you wake in a strange place and are lost for a moment. The balcony was the first thing that attracted his attention, as he could see the storm clouds and lightning flashes, though he could not hear the storm at the time.
He walked over to the desk and opened the drawer. Inside were blank sheets of paper, a few pens, and a Holy Bible. A Bible? That seemed odd to him. He picked it up and thumbed the pages — nothing out of the ordinary. He laid it back down and closed the drawer, then turned his attention to the door. There were no handles or buttons, but when he approached, the door slid upward into the frame without a sound. Startled, Paul stopped and gazed out into what appeared to be a foyer with a stairwell. The stairs wound up and down.
He walked out into the foyer, looking at the winding stairwell. He felt fear gripping at his heart, but he pushed it way. He would not let fear muddle his thinking. Be logical, he thought. There must be an explanation.
From his perspective on the balcony, the tower appeared endless in both directions. He considered this a moment and concluded he needed to see what was on the next floor down. Descending the stairs, he realized he had not seen a single light in this place, not even a candle, yet there were no dark corners or shadowy spaces. There was light, but he could not see a source. It was as if the wall, floor, and ceiling radiated light, though none were glowing.
The staircase wound down to the left, and as he was turning the bend, he saw there was another foyer at the bottom. Another metal door like the one he had come from stood at the end. He approached the door, unsure of what lay behind it, but he half expected to see another room like the one above. The door opened, sliding upward into the door frame without a sound. He released the breath he held as he saw what he had expected — another room like his own.
His own? He thought and chuckled aloud to himself. He had already claimed the room above in his mind. The room he now entered was identical — the same size, the same decorations and the same furnishings. There was even an opening leading to a balcony. A balcony? When he had been standing on the one outside his room, he had not seen others. In fact, the outer walls of the tower showed no other openings at all. Yet, here he was looking at another one identical to the one in his own room. He walked out to confirm what he had seen.
As he passed through the archway, he was once again startled as the sound of the storm outside assailed him. A sudden flash of lightning made him jump. The scene was the same as before. The storm clouds swirled, the lightning flashed, and he could see the diffused light behind the clouds. He looked at the walls of the tower, but there were no other balconies. He looked up to where his balcony should be. Nothing.
He went back into the room and looked in the desk drawer — paper, pens, and a Holy Bible. He looked around the room and confirmed it was identical to his own. A thought crossed his mind, and he removed a piece of paper and a pen from the drawer. Closing the drawer, he wrote on the paper, This is my room. He turned and went out the doorway and back up the stairs to his own room. Entering his room, his suspicions were confirmed. Lying on the desk was a single piece of paper and a pen. On the paper was written, in his own handwriting, This is my room. He felt like a rat trapped in a maze.
