Fall Sight

Prompt: Don't Trust Anything You See. The year 2052, a man wandering the streets lost, he is not the only one that is lost.

Prompt: “Don’t Trust Anything You See.”

The night is silent. The moon isn’t high in the sky and no stars fill the dark blank canvas. The street lamps dimly light up the streets showing a single shadow dancing on the cobble wall. A man looks at a nearby shop. The shop windows look lifeless, the toys displayed stares back at him with empty eyes. The man looks at his reflection, he touches his face and his eyes framed by black glasses, stares back like the toys. The reflection is wearing a trench coat with worn out jeans. He rummages through his pockets. In his jean pocket, he hears the crumpling sound of paper. He pulls the piece out.

“Andrew Smith.”

He stares at the name blankly. Is it his name? Or is it a name of someone is knows and must find? He checks his back pocket and hears the same noise. He pulls it out,

“Escape.”

The man tilts his head to his side. A look of confusion painted on his face. He checks his coat pocket and pulls out two more slips of paper.

“23 Wetherard Street”

“.. - / .. ... / .- / .-.. .. .”

His coat vibrates, he quickly searches for the source. He pulls out a phone from his pocket. The Caller ID shows My Love. He answers the call.

“Hey, honey. Can you come back soon? I miss you.”

The voice sounds sweet, it entices him and makes his heart pounds faster.

“I’m coming home. I miss you too.”

He ends the calls and slips the phone back into his pocket. He didn’t feel the emotions of those words. The weight they bare, he doesn’t know why.

The man looks around, the street is empty, lined with cobble. There is a street sign in front of the toy shop. The sign facing east towards the streets that has lamps with no light.

“Wetherard St.”

He stuffs the pieces of paper into his coat pocket. He walks into the darkness where the sign is pointing. The houses he passes by standstills, the street feels like a cemetery and he is a ghost stuck in purgatory. He looks at mailboxes, their numbers taunting him. He sees the house, it looks normal like the other houses. The lawn freshly groomed. Flowers in their flower bed. He walks down the gravel path to the wooden porch. He looks at the number 23 nailed onto the door. The metal gleams. He is about to knock on the door when he sees a flash of light from the front window.

“--. .-.. .- ... ... . …”

The light is coming from the opposite house. He quickly climbs down the steps, squeaking with rage. He runs across the street and knocks at the door from the opposite house.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

There is a knock from the other side of the door.

“--. .-.. .- ... ... . …”

“I don’t understand. Can you tell me what is going on?”

There is silence, then a knock. He sees a piece of paper slip out of the glory hole. He picks up the paper, beneath his feet.

“What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know.”

There is silence. He slips the paper back into the hole. A brief moment before another knock. The paper flies out of the hole.

“They got you too.”

“Who are they?”

Another slip of paper glides out the hole.

“Don’t go into that house.”

“Why?”

There is silence, and no pieces of paper fly out of the hole.

The man frowns. He stands up and storms away from the house. He walks across the street, climbs up the stairs to the porch. He takes a deep breath to subdue his frustration. He knocks on the door. There is a light from the window.

“.. - / .. ... / .- / .-.. .. .”

The door opens, the woman standing in front of him with a friendly smile and golden hair.

“Welcome back.”

“Thank you.”

She steps away from the door to let him in. The house is nicely furnished and the television is on. The house illuminates every room, but he couldn’t see it from the outside. The house smells strange, and he doesn’t feel at home.

“Did you get the milk?”

“Milk? Oh, they ran out.”

“Oh. Are you okay? You look distracted.”

She approaches closer until her body is leaning onto his. She wraps her arm around his chest and does a swaying motion that hypnotises him to follow. He couldn’t feel her warmth, she feels empty like air. On the shelf, he sees a picture of him not wearing glasses. Her and two boys. They look happy with their smiling faces.

“Where are the boys?” he asks

“Oh, you are worried about them. They are fine. They went to a friend's house for a sleepover.”

A sudden jolt of pain comes through his head.

“Sleepover? I hope they are okay?”

He shakes his head.

“Are you okay, you just fell? Does your head hurt?”

His eyes avoid the woman. He cast them onto the ground.

“When did I start wearing glasses?”

She laughs.

“What are you talking about? You never wear glasses. You have 20/20 vision.”

He brings his hand to his face. He can feel the cool borders of the glasses.

“Annabel, when we let the boys have a sleepover last time, you were worried sick about them.”

“But that was last time.”

“How many times, have the boys left for a sleepover?”

“Multiple times.”

He shakes his head. All his memories rushing back into him like flashes of lightning. He stands up, Annabel put her hands on his shoulders, but he brushes them away.”

“Honey, what’s wrong? Did I say something? I’m sorry.”

He stares at the woman.
“You’re not Annabel.”

She laughs harder.

“What are you talking about? Are you okay?”

“The Annabel I know would still stress about the boys and their sleepover. The Annabel I know would tell me off for not buying milk. The Annabel I know…”

He can feel tears dripping down his face.

“...is not in front of me.”

He takes his glasses off and throws them to the ground. Annabel and the house slowly crumbles. He can see Annabel reaching her hand almost touching him, but she vanishes. He blinks a few times. The sight in front of him sent chills up his spine. There are people in glass cells, wearing white uniforms. He looks down to see himself wearing the uniform. He looks out of his glass cell. There are people wearing headsets, screaming, laughing and crying. The man sees the headset on the ground. A man across from him. He is smiling at him. He knocks on the glass.

“.-- . .-.. -.-. --- -- . / .- -. -.. .-. . .-- / ... -- .. - ....”

He actually understands what the man is saying.

“Welcome Andrew Smith”