"The 75 Closets"

I opened the door. It was black inside. I took a step forward, hoping that there would be floor in the darkened area that I was about to place my foot. My foot hit something solid. The light streaming in from outside the door suddenly vanished. I turned to investigate, but found nothing, only darkness. I still could see nothing, and I did not know what to do. I sat down, and began to wait for my eyes to adjust to the darkness so that perhaps I could see. I was sitting with my legs crossed, not feeling them at all. It was times like these that I wished I had more carrots in my diet. It truly would be beneficial, but what good was complaining going to do when I didn't know if there was anyone to complain to? I turned my head-I thought. I couldn't quite tell, it was like my head and neck were there, but I couldn't sense them, and the fact that there was no change of scenery didn't help much either. What could I do? I was a prisoner in the darkness.

I stood. My eyes were getting no better, and sitting wasn't going to do much good especially when the floor gave out beneath me. I didn't know if it would, it just seemed that it might. I felt the floor beneath my feet, but I couldn't feel my feet. This was a strange place, like none I had visited before. I shuffled forward slowly in case there were holes in the floor that I might fall through to my demise. I took several more steps forward, until my non-existent feet hit something, a hard surface. I reached out with my hand to see if it extended upward. It did. It was flat-seemingly like a wall. I laughed out loud at myself at the way my thoughts were working in such a leaden manner. I laughed, but I heard nothing. That was strange. I talked. Nothing. This was quite the odd happenstance I had encountered. I talked again, but I didn't. I tried looking about some more, but still, it was black. Not knowing what to do, my attention returned to the wall. I felt about on it for some indention or protrusion. There was nothing.

I decided that the best I could do was continue on down the wall, hoping that it wouldn't suddenly give way to space so that I might fall. I took one sidestep to the left. I reached upward as far as I could, and begin feeling from side-to-side with my hands until I reached the floor. Both were smooth, no texture at all, really. No dust, no…feel…to it. I ignored this fact for the moment and left it piled among the other confusing aspects of this…room? I took another step left and repeated my previous procedure. Still nothing-no sign of a door, window, or grain. There was nothing to do but continue. Continue further.

I continued feeling for a door handle, a window, and later perhaps just some sort of imperfection. At times, it seemed like I had been there for hours, and at others it seemed like I had just started but one moment ago. At first, I tried counting; but that quickly failed as I forget which number of "feels" I had been on before. At another point, I tried estimating which number I was at, but no number came to mind. I swore several times in frustration, without having to swear, and at other times I jumped in unintentional burst, and yelled-without yelling. I tried to relate this to some other occurrence I had seen before, but the only thing I could relate it to was a down feather pillow, which this definitely did not resemble.

I sat-against the wall, or in the center of the room, I did not know-and tried to think. That ended in failure. That also only submitted a similar image of a pillow with floated before my eyes. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep. I was not garnered with a pillow, just emptiness and the inability to sleep. I was getting sick of this. It was literally driving me insane. Was it natural to become crazy in a matter of seconds, or was it supposed to come over time? I did not know, but it had happened, and of course, the time was unknown. I had the urge to kill myself. I began searching myself for something I plunge into my throat or heart, or something that could be used to slit wrists, but I found nothing at all. Yet something else that was hopeless-just like everything else in this hell.

Perhaps that was it! I had died and gone to hell! Not a comforting thought, but succor in that it was an explanation. I hoped I was in hell. Without time, this wouldn't be so bad a punishment for the things I had done wrong-what were those? This couldn't be hell…"living" a life of complete repetition, of no human abilities. Actually, it was a good description of what hell could be.

I was getting sick of this. I sat-against the wall, or in the center of the room, I was not sure-and tried to think. I decided to try to remember the last thing that I had done outside of this room. I couldn't. I tried to think harder, but I couldn't do that, all I got was an image of a down feather pillow. I tried staring at the pillow, to see if there was anything unique about it, but there wasn't. My arms moved quickly, and the rest of my body seemed to be spasming.

I was on a grassy green hill, confronted by beings of various sorts. They began to come toward me. These: they were monsters. They had fangs, and fur, and knives, and pointed ears, but they all stood upright like humans, and they were coming toward me. I got up quickly and began to run. It wasn't fast enough. I didn't look behind, but I knew they were still there, I could see it somehow. They were gone. I had reached a flat area, and knew that they were gone, but I continued running. Faster. Faster. You can run faster. My name. My name. I heard my mother's voice, and she was calling my name. I turned quickly. It was my mother, but she was…different. She was blonde, like my mother. She was medium height, like my mother. She had the same voice as my mother, but she wasn't my mother. She was dressed in a frontiers-women's garb. That was odd. I looked down to see if I was wearing it myself. My mother walked toward me and took me in her arms.

A monster! It had me! I was in a monster's arms. I let my knees bend, and slipped out of the hold that the creature had established. I ran some more. Faster. Faster. Faster. Where was I? Why are you asking? Just keep running! The monster is behind you! I ran. And I saw a door. I looked behind, the monsters were coming, but they had a way to come yet. I reached for the knob of the door. I turned it. The moonlight from out side where I was, shined into the room that the door opened into. Otherwise, it was dark. I looked behind me. The monsters were still coming. I stepped into the doorway. I took a step forward, hoping that there would be floor in the darkened area that I was about to place my foot. My foot hit something solid. The light streaming in from outside the door suddenly vanished.

Shit! This seemed bad. I was in a dark room, monsters had been chasing me, and who knew if they were in this giant shadow? I tried to adjust my eyes to the darkness, but it didn't work. It was at times like these, when monsters were chasing me into completely shaded rooms that I wished I had more carrots in my diet. What to do. What to do. I looked about. What was that? Did I see something? Were things lightening up? I think they were. An almost brownish hue began to spread across what I could definitely distinguish as a room. It was an odd room, not like most. It was round, and somehow, I knew that it measured a perfect circle, as sometimes the mind can do. A door appeared, and then one to the left of it. And one to the left of it, all the way around the room. I turned my head and followed it all the way until it returned to the original.

Exits? I wondered. Could be. It could be a game. Each one could lead someplace, but only one could lead out. What was I to do? Well, dammit! I took a step toward the first door. I hoped that they didn't contain booby traps. I laid my hand on the knob. It was could like ice, and warm like the sun, and moderate like a southern ocean in early fall. I pulled it open-seemingly without turning the knob. It was dark inside, but quickly, the brown hue began and showed people. They did not move.

Inside was my family, fighting like usual, and me in the with a women in white, talking to me gently. That was odd. I turned to the other doors. They had numbers on them. I could understand the numbers. One through 75. Interesting numbers, I thought to myself since there was no one to think it to. I moved on to the next door that was labeled "two." I opened it. Inside was a church. And me, screaming wildly. Very strange images, I thought. I closed the door and moved on to the next. Inside, there was me, motionless, soundless, yet trying to say spaghetti. It wasn't working well.

I turned about to see if the room had changed at all again. No. It was the same. I returned my gaze forward. The door had closed. I moved to the next. "Four." There I was, on my mother's lap, she was reading to me, book in one hand, and with her other, signing papers. I moved to the next door, intrigued to see what would be next. There was a courtroom, with a chalkboard in back of the judge, and the Sesame Street alphabet hung on the wall above it. Before the judge were four people, two of them my parents. I was sitting behind them, on a carpet with a "Children's Picture Bible" in hand. I couldn't recall this exactly, but it reminded me of a movie I had seen-without myself as a star. I moved to the next door. I merely stood there; eyes cast down with a book in hand.

I was baffled. What was this? This was not normal. I moved to door seven. It was a split room, my mother and brother on one side in one house, and my father and myself in another. Number eight. There I was, on the playground. There was no movement, but I could see the kickball coming toward me, hitting me in the head and bouncing off in another direction while everyone playing the game laughed, almost maniacally. I felt something within just as my body shifted quickly again. It stopped and I moved to the next door. I was in a bathroom, ready the graffiti on the walls. "Penis," "boobs," "tits," "dick," "slut," "sex," "ass," and the such. It was all making more sense. I moved to number ten. There I was, watching the stationary image on TV of men dead, brutally mutilated. The "war games" seemed so dirty. Eleven. There I was, sneaking a peek at a girl's chest. It was going to become quite the habit. Twelve. First girlfriend. Lasted an hour. Thirteen. Second Base. Fourteen. Third. Fifteen. Taking a break; girls are confusing.

Sixteen. There was sex. There were drugs. There were school massacres. People were committing suicides. Girls were getting pregnant. Some died of alcohol poisoning; others were hit head-on by drunk drivers. A teacher died. Some reminisced at the funeral while others wished that it would happen to all teachers. And then there was me. Confused (as usual) just standing there. She was standing next to me (though she was quite uncomfortable doing so). I loved her. Her feelings for me were less than that. Number seventeen. Nothing. Eighteen. Nothing. Twenty. "No Admittance." Twenty-one. "Never to be accessed." Was I to die early? I went back to sixteen. I would try this again. I opened the door. Black. Nothing. I waited, hoping to see the brown hue appear. Nothing. The door closed. I stepped back.

What was this? Why was I to die? So young! This was terrible. When? Why? How? Why had sixteen disappeared? How old was I now? Think! Sixteen. Then why did it disappear? I went back to sixteen. It wasn't dark. There was a casket. My mouth opened, and I screamed, but did not. There was a sound. A sound of openness. I lost my footing. I fell backward, cutting through the openness. I fell, I fell, I fell. It never seemed to cease. Stop! Don't fall! Grab hold of something! Anything! I found nothing. Save yourself! Wake up you fool! Wake up! Don't fall!