> Engaging awakening protocols…
A mechanical, nigh emotionless voice droned right next to a raven-haired man's ears, causing him to stir and shift about.
> 10, 9, 8…
The man unconsciously swatted at the air as a countdown started up, an irritated, inaudible mumble slipping past his tightly pursed lips.
> 7, 6, 5…
However, all he hit was the empty air; the voice remaining persistent and buzzing in his ears like an annoying gnat.
Failing to hit anything tangible, he swatted at the air once more but only clawed at the empty space. Getting annoyed with his failure, he rolled over and onto his side, attempting to hide away …
> 4, 3, 2…
Only to get a mouthful of grimy dust for his efforts.
> Detected Player’s awakening… halting protocols.
Lucian Noxlear jerked upright, a hacking series of coughs erupting from his throat.
His eyes watered at the powdery grains coating his tongue and assaulting his tastebuds, blurring everything in his field of view and giving them a distorted look.
He immediately gathered all the foulness in his mouth into a single globule of sticky saliva before spitting off to the side and hopefully far away from where he sat.
He repeated the action several more times before all that remained was a lingering grittiness, something that unfortunately remained even after his mouth felt bone dry.
All the while, the mechanical voice continued droning on right next to his ears.
> Welcome, Player, to the Dormitories.
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> You might have noticed your missing set of memories. Unfortunately, such a side effect is a direct consequence of the transferal procedure you just endured.
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> But don’t fret, because we here, at Nightmares Unlimited, have your back.
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Even though he was still feeling discombobulated, his ears perked up at the message's contents. The moment he heard the words, 'missing memories', he instantly delved into his mind, seeing if what the emotionless voice claimed was true.
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Lucian was horrified to find that it was.
He knew his name was Lucian Noxlear, 25.
He knew he was from Earth, but he didn’t know where he was from specifically.
He knew he had a family—parents(?) and siblings(?)—but were they alive?
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A shiver of existential terror raced up and down his spine at the mere fact that he had to ask himself something like that.
Lucian tried, and tried, and tried again, attempting to reach out for information—any little bit, every little scrap—about himself; who he was, why was he here, what had he been doing just before arriving in the Dormitories…
All that greeted his desperate mental prodding was a gaping void of nothingness.
Lucian only stopped his efforts—reluctant as it was—when the emotionless voice started up once again; unwilling to spurn the only source of information he had access to at the moment.
> Believe it or not, you, the Players, were brought to the Dormitories of your own volition and after ironclad consent was acquired.
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> We here, at Nightmares Unlimited, understand your scepticism.
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> And so to alleviate any future misunderstandings to the greatest extent possible, here are some tips and tricks we hope you find useful in your upcoming—completely voluntary—trials.
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Though his ears were paying full attention to the voice's words, his eyes couldn't help but dart around; examining the completely unknown area he found himself in.
Dust was piled up like sand dunes in the room, the drab grey hills sharply contrasting the white dust sheets draped over every piece of furniture in his field of view – forming the rough outlines of tables, chairs, and other less recognisable things.
Nothing seemed immediately amiss, at least before Lucian looked further up and examined the bare wood-panelled walls and plain cement ceiling.
The former, made from a soothing brown wood, were decorated with blackened burns and discoloured splotches – as if from residual fire and water damage.
The latter, while mostly unadorned, had six glaring letters carved into its surface; each stroke filled with a coagulated, reddish-black substance that looked far too much like dried blood for his comfort.
E S C A P E.
Somehow, it felt as if desperation exuded from each and every stroke that made up the single word.
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Lucian didn’t have a good feeling about this. Not at fucking all.
As if in response to the feeling in his gut, the mechanical voice started up once more; each word entering his ears causing his feelings of concern to deepen even further.
> #1. Keep this in mind. Everything, and anything, is, and can be, a weapon.
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> The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
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> #2. Like the fabled red thread of fate, words bathed in blood will pave the way.
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> #3. Nightmares Unlimited is neither a boast nor exaggeration.
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> So brace yourself. And, good luck.
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BANG!
Lucian's spine stiffened even further at the sudden knock. The impact, forceful and resonant, caused several dust dunes to collapse in on themselves before erupting up into miniature mushroom clouds.
His body instinctively reacted to the sight, arm being brought up to cover his mouth with the slightly voluminous sleeve of his hoodie, not keen on letting his mouth reacquaint itself with the disgusting taste of dust anytime soon.
Though the sight of the faded gold fabric brought up some questions, he tried not to dwell on them.
Because he knew, with absolute certainty, that he had bought the hoodie at some point in his past. The whens and wheres of said absolute certainty, though, were a completely different matter.
Lucian supposed it let him know his clothing preferences at least, little consolation as that was-
BANG! BANG BANG!
Irritation sparked to life in his chest as his thoughts were cut off.
Shooting up to his feet, he spun around agitatedly, no longer able to ignore the damn racket.
Unlike every other piece of furniture in the spacious room, the loud knocking came from within an ornate wooden wardrobe; fine golden filigree decorating its double doors and glimmering under the room’s dim fluorescent ceiling lights.
BANG! BANG BANG! BANGBANGBANG!
Just as he saw the origin of the damn noise, the knocks transformed into slams and continued at an even more fervent pace; seeming to have acquired a violent edge at the same time.
“Fucking hell! Don't get your panties in a twist, alright?!”
BANGBANGBANGBANG!!!
In response to the raven-haired man's yell, the slamming continued on without a care – at an even faster rate and even more violently, to boot.
Every time an impact reverberated through the air, the wardrobe slightly shook on its three claw-like feet while its tightly shut doors rattled noticeably.
Warning bells immediately blared in Lucian's mind at the furniture's uniquely uncovered state.
Unfortunately, he didn’t pay it any heed; the irritation stirred up by the incessant slams drowning out any of his caution.
Lucian stomped up to the wardrobe, ready to yank the doors open…
Only to pause – hands millimetres away from the doorknobs as an iota of wariness finally managed to break through the overwhelming irritation swamping his mind.
BANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANG!!!
As if reacting to his presence, the violent slams acquired a frantic edge, the piece of furniture rattling and shaking like a small abandoned boat battered by furious waves.
Dubiously eyeing the wardrobe, Lucian slowly took a step back—while keeping his attention squarely focused on the rattling doors—and blindly felt behind him.
BANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANG!!!
Contrary to what he thought, creating distance between himself and the shaking furniture only made the banging worse, not better.
Luckily for the raven-haired man, before whatever was trapped in the wardrobe managed to get out, the tips of his fingers grazed against cool canvas – finally having found something to use as a weapon.
BANG BANG BANG! CRASH!!!
It was just in time, as well.
The finely decorated double doors, as if having had enough, loudly burst open; both slabs of wood nearly flying off their hinges.
Lucian's body instantly reacted without any conscious input.
He whipped his arm forward and over his shoulder, the dust sheet coming to a stop in his line of sight while acting as a fluttering barrier…
Not before he caught a glimpse of slanted neon yellow eyes and a grinning maw filled with serrated teeth, unfortunately.
Instead of standing around to suss out whatever the hell that had been, Lucian flung the dust sheet forward, white canvas draping itself over the open wardrobe.
He immediately started backing up once the sheet left his hand, beads of nervous sweat belatedly breaking out across his back as the unsettling sight finally registered in his mind.
Though most of his memories were missing, he was absolutely certain something like that wasn’t natural in the slightest.
Even though he was panicking, it didn't distract him from the urgent matter at hand; finding something else to toss at the unnatural creature, stat.
It was clear a single dust sheet wouldn't be enough to hold the creature back. Far from it, in fact.
As if confirming his thoughts, an ear-piercingly grating sound rung out from the middle of the canvas—right where the creature’s mouth should be, in Lucian’s estimation—as the white sheet started tearing in twain, abyssal black lips and disturbingly white teeth peeking through the fraying edges.
“Holy fuck me sideways!” Lucian cursed vehemently while quickening his backward scramble, desperately reaching out for anything to throw at it.
A gusty sigh of relief whooshed past his lips when he gripped onto more canvas. Instantly getting a secure grip, he whipped his arm forward once again and shoved it at the creature before it could fully tear through the first dust sheet.
Knowing it wouldn’t last for long, he glanced over his shoulder—while keeping a single eye on the covered creature—examining the piece of furniture he had just panickily uncovered.
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It was a chair.
With a solid backrest, two armrests topped with minimalistic chartreuse padding, and a set of thick, stable legs, the chair looked like it would fit in any living room; whether it be in the past or in more modern times.
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Lucian had no bloody idea where such a thought had come from—interesting as it was—but he stamped down on it, all the same, before turning fully and sprinting for the chair.
The solid impact of his boots against the floor helped ground him in the moment; while combatting the unnerving sounds coming from behind, as a welcome bonus.
It took a tense moment, but he eventually came to a stop right beside said chair. Without further delay, he dropped to a knee, gripped its legs with both hands, and straightened back up with a gasping heave – smooth wood pressing against his palms.
Making sure his hold was secure for a last time, he turned back around to face the creature—at a slightly slower speed, so he wouldn’t topple off balance—senses focused on his blind spot all the while.
In the meantime, the creature had mostly bitten its way through the second dust sheet, its lips and teeth and eyes peeking through the gaps.
If those three things hadn’t been spine-chilling enough, the oily strands of drool, black as pitch and strung between its gums and teeth, would have caused any who saw it to get goosebumps – Lucian unfortunately included.
He didn’t intend on letting the creature escape any further out of its makeshift imprisonment, however.
“Rrraaaagghhh!” With an adrenalin-fuelled war cry, Lucian tottered forward and tossed the chair at the exposed bits of the creature’s face.
The chair’s weight, though ultimately manageable, was still significant.
As such, it wouldn’t have been a surprise to anyone when the raven-haired man was forced to stumble back, all in order to offset the sudden, even if expected, absence of weight.
It tumbled through the air like a geriatric in molasses; slowly and painful to watch.
Even so. Before the creature could even think of evading, the piece of solid wood slammed down on its entrapped form, forcing a pained whimper out past its maw.
In the meantime, Lucian’s arms pinwheeled desperately as he attempted to regain his balance as fast as humanly possible.
He finally managed to do so after a couple of stumbling steps to the side. Looking over to the creature, he properly took in the damage he had dealt.
Though he had tossed the chair quite a distance—and wasn’t that a fucking ego boost all on its own?—its solid construction meant it hadn’t shattered on impact.
Luckily, his amateurish toss had been a success; entrapping the creature without giving it much wriggle room, killing any chances it had of escaping.
He carefully approached the creature after registering its state. It was only after he was a metre or so away when he took notice of something he had missed earlier – namely, the puddle of yellow liquid slowly spreading from beneath the sheets.
Besides its clearly injured state, choked off whimpers and wet gurgles constantly entered his ears on his approach – sounds that caused a smidgen of pity to kindle in his heart.
He couldn’t help but wonder if he had overreacted. Even though the creature was horrifying to look upon, it hadn’t actually done anything damaging to him.
Unconsciously, Lucian’s wariness lessened by a significant degree as the thought crossed his mind; embers of guilt feeding on the kindling of pity and sparking to life in his heart…
Significantly delaying his reaction speed when the creature, seemingly mustering up the last dregs of whatever strength remained, spat a pitch black ball of goo right at him – the disgusting projectile speeding right for his face.
Lucian, reacting a beat too late, dropped and rolled.
Unfortunately, with the slight delay, the edges of the gooey ball clipped the sides of his scalp – scoring a burning line of agony right above his right ear.
“Aaaarrrggghhhh!”
A pained cry, full of torment,, exploded out of the raven-haired man's mouth as he rolled back and forth on the dusty ground.
He frantically clawed at his scalp, trying to alleviate the pain, but his touch only seemed to make things worse, not better.
“Fucking fuckity fuck fuck fuck!!!” He screamed and tried to lessen the pain in any conceivable way – even though it was all futile.
Lucian wasn’t sure how long the pain lasted for, but it eventually subsided enough for him to start thinking semi-coherently once again.
His first, all-consuming thought was how to get rid of the fucking creature as fast as fucking possible.
His eyes darted about the room, a plan crystallising in his mind the moment his eyes alighted on a plain—but more importantly, uncovered—end table a distance away from where he lay.
He gritted his teeth until it felt like they would crack before jumping back up onto his feet and darting over to the piece of furniture.
Though he kept an eye on the cunning little fucker, the beleaguered gasps coming from it made it seem like all its energy had been exhausted after firing off the condensed ball of burning agony.
He made sure to keep an eye out, nevertheless; not wanting to experience the previous agony for a second time.
It was but a moment before Lucian came to a stop at his target.
Eyeing up the furniture, he dropped to a knee and picked it up in one hand—the piece of wood weighing far lesser than expected—and gripped it like a top heavy baseball bat before swinging around to face the trapped creature.
Once he had a secure grip, he exploded from his kneeling position and charged at the entrapped creature; end table smashing down on the spherical lump of black, white, and yellow.
Wood loudly cracked against wood as a sudden, violent geyser of yellow liquid erupted from the flattened mass; Lucian avoiding it by the skin of his teeth after a quick series of hops backwards.
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There was no way the creature was still alive after that.
Lucian still toyed with the idea of smashing the end table down on where the creature lay one more time… just to make sure, honest to God.
For all he knew, the damn thing, being a complete unknown, could come back from the dead and assault him as a final hurrah, after all.
As if cottoning on to the vengeful direction of his thoughts, the monotone, mechanical voice made an abrupt reappearance – something his more rational mind welcomed, but his vengeful emotions did not.
> Congratulations on overcoming your first trial, Player.
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> The creature you just eliminated is known as a Closet Horror, and they dwell, as you might expect, in closets of all sorts – ranging from wardrobes to cupboards to even cabinets under the sink.
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> We here, at Nightmares Unlimited, would like to remind you of the three tips we provided earlier. Hopefully, they were of some help. We do understand if they were not.
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> Nonetheless, as the ancients have said: overcoming a trial deserves a commensurate reward, and so too, shall you receive one.
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> So make your choice. Would you prefer Knowledge, Instinct, or Perception?
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> Your time starts now.