Escape Me

Outside the sealed door, a clock sings its noon lullaby. Inside the stone walls lies a body covered completely by a sheet, a bolted desk paired to a chained chair, and a flashing orange light perched in the north facing corner of the room. The light meticulously cascades the damp walls in a rotary pattern, examining every inch of its existence.

The lifeless body began to stir. Surprisingly, the young women woke from her induced coma. She wasn’t due to wake up for another few days. Her eyelids flutter open and closed, as if blinking away a confusion that will never sort itself out. The girl scoots herself into an upright cocoon, the sheet falls enough to show a tattoo. Etched in her arm was a thick blocky text that read ‘Sally’. The orange light is slowly approaching Sally’s bed. She examines her arm with disbelief, which is still tender. The light scans over her body and ignites chaos over her flesh. Pain claws through her skin without leaving a trace. The light trickles down her arm causing the marking to sear white as coal. The light leaves Sally and continues on its warpath. Memories imprisoned within her skull fight to be heard but are quickly muted. The only thing that is evident, this is life or death.

Sally quickly rolls from her bed onto the cool wet floor. Her skin blushes and shoulder length hair matte from the sweat. Her cheek presses the floor in efforts to cool down. As her eyes begin to scan the room, she notices a small shadow underneath the bed. Stretching a bit, her hand lands on a damped black book. She ruffles through the pages hoping for answers... each bare of ink. The light passes over her, without harm, protected from the bed frames shadow.

A few feet away stood the desk, its surface is littered with scratches. One carving stood out from the rest, ‘Welcome to the Escape Room’. Along the scratches hid a pen. Sally took a quick inventory of her surroundings, which didn’t take long. One thing worth taking note, there aren’t: vents, water sources, or toilets. Escaping was impossible. Sally suddenly notices the light behind her and ducked underneath the beds shadow to avoid the lights path. Suddenly the light stops. As if starving for food, the light descends toward the ground looking for its next meal. Continuing on its original path, the light climbs over her bare feet and paralyzes her in agony. It seems that bypassing a rotation intensifies the already unbearable inferno, a form of punishment. Plastered to the floor, the light fully envelopes her unmoving body. Tears fight to escape, but are smothered out in the heat. The light rests on Sally.

Outside the sealed door, the clock sings its noon lullaby. The light clicks on and begins its daily dance. Sally remains facedown on the clammy stone floor, it has been precisely 22 hours. Still low, the light grabs ahold of Sally. A welcoming warmth washes over her, an alarm clock. Weakened from yesterday, she forcibly pushes herself upwards. Sally stumbles to the chair with her doe legged attempt. She misses the chair and falls back onto her chest. Every emotion beckons for tears, but none come. Stomach growls are heard by the room, echoed by silence. The light reaches her again, this time without a warm welcome. Her markings sear white, the world fades out. Her voice murmurs out for the first time, “life is knowing the try, and accepting the lost.” A weakened smile forms as she pushes herself off the floor. Sally stumbles to the wall for safety, nearly stuck by the lights grasp. She presses against the wall for stability and scans the room for something. Anything. She trails the path of light as it crosses over the bed where she left the opened book. Miraculously the pages begin glow similar to her arm! She leans forward, just outside of the light, to see the book better. Words shimmer into existence onto the lit pages. Ink courses through the veins of each page, journaled forever without a soul to read. The lights end chiseled away at the letters, as quickly as they had formed. Again, the book is left blank. Sally grabbed the pin and wrote her name. The page reacts like a sponge, her words disappear into the abyss with each stroke of ink. The light completed its rotation and struck Sally by surprise. Immobilized once again, she accepts the pain to come and waits for the book to glow. Anxieties grow as the light engulfs her. Physical pain is temporary, but the haunted whispers barricading her brain will resonate forever. Sally’s eyes gaze blankly at glowing page as her consciousness falters. She won’t make it.

Outside the sealed door, a clock sings its noon lullaby. Inside the stone walls lays Sally cradling her book. She hasn’t had food or water in an unknown amount of days. Her eyes remain wide open from yesterday, but it is unknown if anyone is home. Behind her, the light clicks for its warming cycle. It begins its daily ritual near the desk, and ends near the desk. Without thought, Sally springs into the light with the book. The warmth was comforting, almost pacifying. Suddenly, the intent to write dissolves within the lights contentment. Sally, obviously confused, sits in the nearby chair and stares blankly at book in her lap. The light passes over and her mind instantly relapses. Sally allows the light to complete its rotation before reentering. Once engulfed in pain, she begins to write. Her words mirrored onto each page and only disappeared when the light met shadow. Sally walks the path, writing feverishly in hopes that the book would reveal the key to escaping. Every question, marking, or statement is mirrored without response. Nearing the desk, the searing pain is replaced with this depth of loneliness. The murmurs begin like clockwork. Unthought realizations of hunger, thirst, alienation, etc. consume her mind. Her written word flows into incomprehensible scratches. Her mind knotted in the lies and deceit created by the light. Humanity was founded on the comfort that light brings, but only the darkness is safe here. Sally’s step slips outside of the lights trail, yet takes a step forward to remain in the light. Collapsing onto the ground, she drops the pen while one hand clenches the book. She is left unable to stand, both physically and mentally exhausted. She crawls the remainder of the cycle. Now nearing the desk, the 4th cycle begins.

In the 4th light, nothing glows. This light brings nothing. The feelings of sorrow, and loneliness that previously haunted Sally are missed. This cycle gives Sally nothing to hold onto. Her desire to escape? Gone. Her will to survive? Sadly, that too is gone. The shadow blanketing her body should leave her to lay by the desk forever. Her vision is blackened in the shadow casted by the light. The book clings to her chest for safety. She pulls her body though the shadows for an eternity. Mindlessly existing in the void, her hand finds something cold. The light clicks off allowing the natural darkness to silhouette the room. Cycle 4 is over. There won’t be another light until tomorrow at noon. Sally closes her eyes but the murmurs invade her mind, not allowing for rest. Sally slowly opens her eyes and begins to rustle around blindly. The pen she dropped at the start of cycle 3 is located by the foot of the bed. The book shimmers when opened and reads, “Welcome the lost, forget the try”. Dread washes over her as she writes,

“Where am I?” Sally hastily scribbles.

This time her words aren’t mirrored, they are responded to

“In the lost, darling” the page begins to write with beautiful scroll-like penmanship.

Frustrated, Sally writes back, “How do I get out?”

“Through the door” jokes the book.

Sally slams the book closed, her only hope was gone. The book flips open and a long exaggerated “. . .” is written out.

The book writes again, “You are only safe in the darkness.”

No matter how many questions she writes, the book only responds with “You are only safe in the Darkness.”

The book goes dark, it had already told her everything it needed to. Sally knows the darkness is temporary, and that another cycle will not be survivable. Off of the bed, she finds her way to the door. Her hand grabs at the latch and pulls upward. To her surprise, the door opens to darkness. She enters a dark hallway lined with security lights. The walls lined with framed artworks titled by silver wall plaques. Sally turns to face the room where she was just trapped by and closes the door. The door back reveals a hanging frame, in place of an artwork sat a lit surveillance screen. Live footage displayed outwards, as if tuning-in to watch a daily Reality TV show. Her gaze falls and notices the plaque nestled besides the surveillance frame. Realization forces Sally to her knees, she reads the small sign that depicts her artwork and it spells...“Depression”.

Tears choke from her eyes as her forearm begins to ache. Overhead, as if dominoes falling in a line, the lights click on slowly to illuminate the long corridor. Sally, unaware of the lights, is busy scanning her marking in horror as the ink slowly contorts into a barcode. Pulling Sally from her trance, a raspy male voice screeches through the intercom, “Exit through room 247A”. A rotary light flicks on, directing Sally down the artificially lit corridor.

Underneath the strobe sits a standard grey door, marked ‘247A’. The door wasn’t masked by its ornate surroundings, quite the contrary. A grey, handless door with rusty brass hinges became the only barrier to freedom. An outdated time clock is bolted to the wall just left of the door. The boxes underside shimmers orange, Sally reluctantly approaches to extend the barcode underneath the light. A similar warmth washes over her body as the scanner calculates her release. Lightly humming, the box prints out a departure ticket. The door buzzes open to an unlit maintenance closet, which is backed by another door. The closet is empty besides a duffle bag that is centered on the ground. A letter sits on top of the bag, written in the same unmistakably beautiful script, “Silence is never free.” Sally unzips the bag to find banded bundles of cash amounting to $50,000. She throws the bag over one shoulder and kicks open the door leading to her freedom. A busy train station terminal scurries along behind the door. As she crosses the threshold, musty air dances throughout the platforms, welcoming her from captivity. Lost in their sea of civilization, bystanders weave past Sally. Through the crowd, she corrals herself up the escalators to freedom.