Twisted

The world started spinning, all I could see was a blur of black and blue. I closed my eyes in my confusion.

The spinning seemed endless and when it did end I kept my eyes glued shut. Fear poisoned my thoughts, the fear of the spinning returning once more. Maybe even the fear of seeing the world around me.

Time seemed to slow down for just a moment when she popped into my head. Her smile was the only thing I would always give everything to see, even my own life. They say curiosity killed the cat and apparently I have a lot in common with that same cat. My eyes peeled open and the world around me was dark and unfamiliar.

The world was dark and very disturbing. The room I was in smelled like death and betrayal. It was nearly pitch black but for some reason, I could see well. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed something swinging from my neck. I reached down with my hand, feeling the texture of the object. It was cold and crunched against my skin. I grabbed it, bringing it up to my face allowing me to see it.

"Oh shit!" I ripped the thing from my neck and tossed it away from me. It was a severed finger, someone's cold, dead, finger. It flew across the room and hit a hollow object that looked like a stone ball at first.

Where the fuck am I? My great grandmother's stone disappeared and was replaced by some madman's idea of a joke. The room  was simple; it had four walls that formed a perfect square. There was a small door like thing on the wall opposite from me. It couldn't have been more than two feet by two feet, definitely a tight squeeze. I bent down and picked up one of the stone sticks that were scattered across the ground. I quickly realized that it was not made of stone, it was made of bone. Do bones dominate the room I'm in? Are they all the bones of those who couldn't escape?

I took a step forward and the bones crunched under my feet. Each step was followed by that same crunching noise the whole way to my freedom. Sadly however I would soon find that this room was not the end of it. I knew I was going to have trouble fitting through the door, but I swung it open and it creaked. That sound, that creak, just like back home.

"That door needs oil." She laughed as she walked through my door with a smile. God she looked so beautiful that day. The sun came out and its light shined on her; she glowed like the moon. Her eyes were a deep blue, and they had these odd golden specs in them; gold like her hair.

"I know." I laughed back, I didn't know it back then but I was madly in love with her. She was the best thing that had ever happened to me. The ocean in her eyes was never stormy, it always sparkled. She was mine; she is mine. I remember stretching my hand out to her, asking her to follow me.

"Oh! What's this?" Her curiosity was as bad as mine is, only hers was a good kind.

"You'll see." I let a smirk ring across my face. I was nervous, but something told me everything was going to be okay. I knew what could have gone wrong, but I kept asking myself what the chances of that happening were. I shouldn't have been worrying about it; it all worked out.

A different stench brought me back to what seemed to be reality. I had already squeezed through the tiny door way and found myself wandering down the hallway outside. A crunch followed each step, bones littered this whole place.

        In this black I cannot go back,
       With each step comes a deafening crack, 
       Breaking some hounds delicious snack,
       All because of the light that I lack,
       In this black I cannot go back.


Making up poems in my head has always soothed me. Each line that I rhyme is music to my ears and no matter what draws near, I feel safe. After I rhyme though, it takes some time to regain control of my mind. I started to rhyme back when I was fifteen. When I met this girl through some art exchange. Even now people who still us both say that we're just like each other. That similarity was what lead her to introduce me to poetry.

At first I merely just read them, but at some point I picked up my 0.5 millimeter automatic pencil and wrote my first poem. It was no more than four lines and contained as many techniques as a children's popup book. It's lines held something I held close back in those times. It spoke of a knight who was writing about his lost light. He lost it in a fight for something he believed to be right. Sadly however, that fight was not right and he lost his light, his purity.

It's funny how now I can look back and laugh at those times. I saw myself as the real version of a fictional character from my own childhood. Back then he was no older than me, just another auburn haired, dark brown eyed, eight year old child. He was special though. He had a strength and a destiny that no one could take from him. He was a passionate flame and absolutely never gave up. He always believed in the best of people, something I long ago stopped doing.

But he's gone now and I am alone. Up ahead the rectangular hallway seemed to smooth out and become a perfectly formed circle. It seemed pretty normal except for the fact that, well, it's walls glowed a blinding light. The center of the tunnel was an absolute dark however. It was like an eclipse stood in front of me, and I had to walk through it.

What the fuck is up with this place? Nothing seems to make sense and I don't have any idea how to get out. This place is like it's right out of someone's twisted and god forsaken imagination. The worst part is that I've got this feeling that I am not alone here.

Walking through that tunnel was like a journey to the other side of hell. Screams echoed through the tunnel, knives to my ears. It half felt like they were trying to warn me, telling me to go back. I understood that they might be telling the truth, but I'd much rather die from walking into a trap than from dehydration in a room filled with bones.

                    In times of grave peril, 
                   Often the weak will hurl, 
                   For strength comes from within,
                  And is not given to him.


                 When he must fight his fears,
                  Just to find his way home, 
                  When he must fight back tears,
                   He will never be alone. 


Of course I know reciting poems in the lit dark of this tunnel won't calm the screams or even my fears, but they help me continue on. Between point 'A' and point 'B' only uncertainty can be assured. A dark evil laughter starts echoing through the tunnel and the end becomes visible. Hopefully I can get out of here!

"Come human and meet yourself!" A familiar voice called out to me. It started bugging me, who was it? I was overwhelmed with curiosity and I couldn't wait to see a familiar face. I started running and quickly forgot about my own safety.

I ended up bursting through a door I didn't even realize was there. I found myself face to face with my own worst enemy. Me. A perfect mirror image of me stood in front of me, except he had dark deep bags under eyes and hate in his heart.

"Where am I?" I asked him, certain that this was his horrid domain. He just sort of fit into the feeling of this place. He was clearly a dark being, just like me. I wondered how I ended up crossing paths with him, with myself.

"You are in a world where your first love never happened, or better yet, it did but ended far too soon. You should see what you've done since." He started grinning, the cruel bastard. "Now I think you should follow me."

The screams got louder as I followed him to god knows where. The walls in this room seemed undefined except one of them. The wall seemed to stretch on forever in every direction. It was littered with portraits of a woman that seems so familiar to me. Each portrait was different from the last but they were all from her. I felt like I should be able to recognize her. She seemed so distant, so far away from everything. I turned to him, asking who she was. A smile stretched across his face, so evil and the screams stopped.

"You know her. While you two may have grown so distant in the past years, you know her well... very well." The portraits all shared the same look in her brown eyes, fear. Her eyes were almost as dark as mine. Her hair was a mess in most of the portraits and had a slight black tint to her brown hair. Did he paint these, all of them?

"Kim?" The name slipped out as a gentle little whisper.

"Good job, now what do you think you did to her, what I did to her?" The evil smirk written on his face said it all. "We are the same after all."

"You monster! What did you do to her? She better be alright!" I can't believe I would do that to her, and yet I know I could. But I was not the same as this crazy asshole. He only looks like me; he is not the same as me!

"Or else what? Will you kill me, you whiny little baby? Will you stop my breathing and succumb to the power it gives? Or will you run away from what is right?" He mocked me and he sent needles through my heart. He knew I would try my hardest to stop myself from doing that. I need him to get back home, to escape. His laughter echoed through the room and through my mind.

I was starting to loose control; I was so angry. I've never been able to deal with anger too well, so I closed my eyes. I pictured I was somewhere else, somewhere safe. I found myself in the woods I spent most of my childhood in. It was hot, like in the summer and birds sand a beautiful song. The sun shined bright in the sky and gave this place a green glow because of all the lively leaves. Something or someone tapped me on the shoulder so, I turned around and saw who it was. With that same evil grin on his face I saw my mirror image, my dark side. "Come back to reality now, you've spent too long in this godforsaken place." He lunged at me viciously.

My eyes jolted open and I saw that he hadn't moved an inch. Maybe I brought him into my image, maybe he has no idea. "Welcome back, enjoy your time in that forest? I'm dreadfully sorry that I had to bring you back here so soon." He started laughing again, is there no end to this insanity?

He walked off and motioned for me to come to him. I followed him into another room, this one as dark as the one I was in when I got here. The room had an awful stench, almost indescribable. I got the feeling I should recognize the smell, like I had smelled it earlier. I heard him flip on a light, lighting up the entire room. I saw why I recognized the smell. "So what are you going to do about it?" He asked me, laughing.

Surely enough, Kim was lying on the floor, dead. Her body was twisted in an inhuman way. The smell of death haunted my memories and I've tried to push it away for so long. Her skin was pale and body cut and bloody. I left her in a pool of her own blood and gave her the blessing of a slow and very painful death. The knife rested on the table beside me, in arms length.

"I'm waiting." He told me, tempting me to act against him.

In a flash of red I saw myself grab the knife and stab the one who lives here, in this world in the heart. Blood oozed from the knife and he dropped to the ground and a smile stretched across his face. "You've done it again."

I closed my eyes and felt a tear go down my cheek. I opened my eyes again, I was back home in my kitchen and my wife was in front of me. She was lying down on the floor. Blood poured out of her heart, where the knife hit. I took her life, just like I did Kim's.

-Zero