Creative Outlet – a blog full of stories and personal musings

20Dec/090

Robert – Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Awakening of a Sound Mind

The wind hit him like a brick wall, as he opened the door. He sniffed in, filling his lungs with the luke-warm desert air and ventured on outside. The loudness of the party became a muttered noise behind him, when the door was closed with a considerable force. Before it banged shut, Robert heard a faint ”Close the door, jackass!”. He stopped a few meters away, just by the outline of the light emitting from the house. The boom from inside still hung in his head, as he tried to lit a cigarette, but gave up after a few tries with his trusty sidekick, zippo. Even it could not defy the might of the whining wind, the element of some forgotten God or Goddess. The booming slowly disappeared from his head and was replaced by the high pitched wind rustling in the trees.

Robert pocketed the zippo, put the cigarette behind his ear and looked around him. He had no idea how he came to this place, where it was located, what time of year it was or just about any other normal thing most people should know. The sand suggested somewhere in the desert, the heat that it might be summer or that he is in a weird part of the country (but which, he wondered) and the wind hinted that a high pressure hit a low pressure and shit is about to hit the fan. Despite the mass input of alcohol and pretty much any other substance that could be chemically made, Robert was in a pretty sound state of mind. The wind did not know him on his feet, no matter how hard it tried. Robert turned around so the wind was on his back, put a finger down his throat and vomited Hard. The wind made it seem like projectile vomiting, which made Robert smile as he studied his own vomit in the dim light. He could make out two things, that he has not eaten for a very long time and that alcohol was NOT what had taken him to this .. area of the world. He wondered for how long he had been out of it or rather, he wondered about who he was, what the hell had happened and why. He doubted he would get any kind of answers out of any one in the house in front of him.

Robert went behind the small house to get away from the wind a bit and gather his thoughts. He ran a hand through his hair with one hand while pocketing for some kind of wallet with the other. None of his pockets revealed anything, except for a couple of pills and some girl's phone number. He examined the piece of paper on which it was written for any kind of clues, ”Jane” he said to himself. The phone number did not click, for some reason, on what area she would be from. He turned the paper around, but the rest was blank. So much for clues, he thought. He wondered what time it was. It was pitch black outside and he could barely see more than a few meters ahead. There were no visible moon or stars on the sky, which crept him out. For all he knew, he could be inside a huge hangar. He leaned back against the house, feeling the vibrations from the music in the wooden structure, took out the cigarette behind his ear and lit it. He inhaled and with a huge sigh, exhaled, collapsed against the wall and stared at the darkness.

He looked over his shoulder at the building itself. It was a pretty standard brick house, if you were not living in a desert. The more he came to think about it, the more the house looked more out of place. He turned over on his knees, took out his zippo lighter and turned it on, lighting up the bricks. He hit it lightly with his hand but not even dust from the bricks came off. There was absolutely no tear on this house. Suddenly it hit him. He could no longer hear the party. In fact, he could not hear anything at all except the wind howling. Normally music would be turned down or off at parties, but then you would at least hear some kind of chatter or yelling. Drunk people are loud, period. He stood up and tried to look in through the windows while putting the zippo away. The house interiors were all lit, but all he could see from his position, was the roof. He looked to both corners of the buildings, expecting some people coming around. If the party was over, they would have to stand somewhere to not be blown completely away.
He peeked around the corner of the house and was immediately hit by the strong wind. Nothing. He moved up along the house to the front and took a look at the door. The normal, closed door looked back at him. Robert was not sure what exactly he expected but a closed door was not it. The fact that there was absolutely no trace of the party, he thought he left just minutes ago, was tearing on his nerves. He looked over to the nearest window. It was as lit as all the other windows and no movement to see what so ever. He looked over his shoulder and moved a bit closer to the door. He put a slightly shaking hand on the door knob and opened the door. It was not locked and opened with such a force from the wind, he lost the grip on the knob and the door slammed against the wall. It creaked on the hinges. He looked into a brightly lit room which mostly looked like a waiting room at a dentist. There was no remains from a party – actually, it looked completely clean, except a bloody trail leading from one of the doors to a corridor on the left side of him. He stepped inside and forcefully pushed the door close. He tried to think back to before he walked outside, but he could not remember a thing. He suddenly felt a huge jab at his temples which sent him to his knee. A small pop in his head and suddenly a liquid streamed from both his ears. He reached up to his left ear and afterwards looked at his fingers. They were dark red.
Gasping for air, he got up on one leg and paused. A throbbing headache accompanied the pop and he tried to stabilize himself.

A faint noise had come from down the corridor -- where the blood is leading. He listened closely but the noise was gone. He got up on both legs and leaned against a wall. "Hello?" he called out, looking down the corridor. The blood led to a door in the opposite end of the corridor. He walked towards it and noticed that the handle was covered in blood. He moved slowly and listened carefully. The other doors in the corridor were closed but the blood trails went directly to (or from?) the door at the end. He studied the door. According to what he remembered about the structure of the house, this must either go into a small roof or into a basement. There was blood splatter on the door under the handle. It had been smeared on the door but there was no print from a hand or finger. Having thought that, he checked the blood trail behind him. Not even a foot print. It did not seem like any kind of blood trail you would see in a horror movie. It more looked like someone had been carrying a bucket of blood and occasionally tipping some out.

He smirked a bit at his thoughts - he was no detective but this seemed placed. Like a practical joke. Someone was pulling him a prank, there could be no other reason. The party that had suddenly vanished. The faint noise was probably someone's muffled laugh. But, he thought, what about his apparent memory loss? The sudden earpopping and throbbing headache? He shook it off as coincidental, perhaps a hit to the head. Robert wrapped his sleeve around his hand and attempted to open the door. Suddenly he withdrew it as the throbbing in his head started booming louder. He also thought he had heard a scream. It send shivers down his back. The scream did not sound human or anything like an animal. It sounded metallic in origin, like someone hit some iron yet had a female scream in it. He leaned against the door, out of breath from the pain in his head. He gasped after air but he suddenly felt weak and fell to his knees. The headache started again and he passed out.