Ethereal Haven

A Story by D.Cyanic

They remembered far too late.

The office building seemed normal enough. He shrugged, and entered, hands stuffed in pockets. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he was presented with two doors " one yellow, one blue " instead of a receptionist. Which one should he take?

‘This definitely wasn’t in the notice,’ he thought.

Why was he here anyways? It should have crossed his mind as soon as he regained…consciousness.

Why did he need to “regain consciousness”? Shouldn’t he already have it?

Many questions flew into his mind at once, before he sharpened his focus. This was a possibly dangerous situation, and he couldn’t go off panicking. He had to keep his cool.

Walking forward, but staying a few feet away from the doors, he pondered over the situation at hand. Everything was pretty blunt, pick a path. But what lies beyond is the concern.

Inhaling deeply, he made his decision. He just had to choose.

Grasping the silver knob of the blue door, he opened it, and was greeted with a long, stoned hallway. He gazed suspiciously, but eventually stepped in. He heard a loud thump, and acknowledged the door closing behind him.

He walked slowly, examining taking every step with apprehension. Eventually, he saw another door, this time brown. Seeing there was no other option, he entered the door.

A room filled with people is the first thing he saw. Only some spared him a single glance before resuming their activity.

The atmosphere was of gloom, and the tension thick. What was to be suspected? Striding to a corner of the silver-walled room, he observed his surroundings. The people. First thing was the alarming age range. There were children, teenagers, adults, and the elderly. The purpose of this all, unconfirmed.

He crouched down, and buried his face in his hands. He let out a deep, quiet sigh, and lifted his face again, he couldn’t let his guard weaken.

Scanning the room, once more, he caught the eye of a few others. When their eyes met, they stared in confusion, and worry. He’s definitely not the only one feeling the gravity of this dilemma.

Suddenly, a sharp pain made him grip his head. What was that? Could it be a side effect of his memory? Inhaling deeply, his vision cleared, and he sighed again.

Something was a tad different afterwards. That moment, he became sluggish in his thoughts. Can’t focus. Dangerous. Silver, white.

“Such an enigma. I never understood their purpose.”

His eyes widened. No, no, no, no…Times almost out. It came to his attention that not just him, but everyone in the room began to chatter. The noise level increased steadily. Some angry shouts, some cries, some prayers.

He remembered, they remembered, but far too late.

Just as the metal ceiling closed down on the failed participants, another floor rose from right beside them. The two rooms were separated by a wall, halfway the size of the others. This…terrible.

He stood from his position, and gazed at the winners from above. He saw nothing but their feet as the roof approached the losers quickly.

He hung his head, and a grin slowly made its way onto his face. He chuckled hysterically. How did he not realize this sooner?

Memory loss, room made of metal, room filled with people he’s at least bumped into in the past.

Most obviously, the doors. Yellow, and blue, silver, and white.

“No, you never understood, and you were too conflicted to try. I’ve always hated people who grass out on others.”

His final words acknowledged by none as the metal finally reached the contestants. Nothing was left, everything clean.

‘Hypocrite.’

© 2016 D.Cyanic

Author's Note

Lazy writing. I took interest in a prompt, and immediately began typing this out. I'm pretty sure it's eligible.

It's vague, but that's how all my stories will be.

Criticism is always fun.