As I made my way back to the station, I struggled to process the surreal events that had unfolded. It was utterly nonsensical! I couldn't shake the feeling that my mind was once again toying with me, weaving an intricate web of illusions.
Perhaps I should have mustered the courage to test the hobgoblin's existence by poking at its holographic form.
That should have settled it, one way or another, putting an end to the uncertainty that plagued my thoughts.
The perplexing issue lay in the uncanny realism of it all. If what I experienced wasn't real, then what on earth had actually happened? I struggled to conjure a plausible explanation, my mind grasping at straws.
As I walked past a room filled with numerous monitors, my eyes were drawn to the array of images depicting various scenes from the station. It seemed there were quite a few individuals diligently monitoring the station, which, to some extent, was not entirely unusual. Although, upon closer inspection, I couldn't help but wonder if the number of personnel was somewhat excessive for mere monitor observation. But who was I to pass judgment on such matters?
Ah, facial recognition tools! Each person's image was accompanied by additional information, but as one of the supervisors glanced up and met my gaze, I swiftly averted my eyes. I had no intention of drawing any unwanted attention to myself.
Pressing on, I carried on my journey, ascending several flights of stairs.
Finally, at the end of the next corridor, a partial view of the station came into sight. A wave of relief washed over me, prompting a small exclamation of joy.
"Yeah! I'm out!"
However, to my dismay, upon reaching the station, I discovered that it was in the process of closing down. The final train had already departed, and the display board indicated that the next train would not arrive until five-thirty in the morning.
Five hours of waiting lay ahead of me!
With the station closed for the night, the staff kindly ushered me outside, leaving me standing there in my perspiration-soaked blouse, devoid of my jacket, identification, and without money.
What should I do? Caught in a whirlwind of thoughts and uncertainties, I pondered my options.
Should I find a bench or perch myself on a stairwell for the entire night? Nope, nope, nope. I shuddered at the thought.
Maybe I could hop into a taxi and explain my predicament, promising to pay later once I retrieved money from Lola—assuming she was even home. But what if she wasn't? I had already consumed my money for the week, and my student account would not let me take more.
How could I settle the fare with an empty wallet?
I ultimately resolved to embark on the journey by foot. As a light drizzle descended, I hastened my steps, striking a balance between a purposeful stride and an outright sprint. The raindrops served as a gentle reminder to maintain a brisk pace, warding off the chill that accompanied the late-night air.
With a trek of two or three hours ahead of me, I had ample time to contemplate, analyze, and try to untangle the perplexing events that had unfolded.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
The questions swirled in my mind, each one more perplexing than the last. Was the man truly a hobgoblin, or had my overactive imagination conjured up an illusion? It seemed peculiar that everyone else interacted with him as if they couldn't see through his disguise, while to me, it appeared as a shoddy hologram, like a transparent mask.
Was it a clever magical disguise, and I was immune to it, or was it simply a figment of my imagination?
And then there was the matter of the chair. Did police stations even have such unconventional seating arrangements that automatically binds you and transport you into some dark space for strange magic tests? I had never heard of such a chair before, and no one had ever mentioned experiencing anything like it. It felt out of place, like an anomaly in the fabric of reality.
But perhaps the most unsettling question was about the spell to forget. Was it a mystical incantation or a technological device? And if it was a spell, why hadn't it affected me? Why hadn't I forgotten anything? Or worse, had I forgotten something important and was not even aware of it?
As I trudged through the rain-soaked streets, these unanswered questions weighed heavily on my mind, leaving me undecided, not being able to find a logical explanation for what I thought I saw.
My mind grappled with the dissonance between two stark possibilities, neither of which offered a comforting resolution.
The first option, the one that seemed most plausible, was that I had descended into madness. It would explain the bizarre encounters and the unsettling discrepancies between my experiences and the world around me. But accepting that I had lost touch with reality was a terrifying prospect, one that shook the very foundation of my being.
Then there was the alternative possibility, one that threatened to unravel everything I believed to be true. What if my previous memories were accurate? What if the existence of White Flower was not a mere figment of my imagination?
The implications of such a revelation were daunting; what was I doing as a simple non-magical girl in a magical world?
Magical world? Did White Flower not bring me inside a different world populated with harpies and amazons?
No, dear Dolores, such a world does not exist!
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
Fuck! With a heavy heart, I reluctantly confronted the unsettling truth.
"I am crazy,"
I whispered to myself, the weight of the words sinking in. The realization brought a mixture of despair and resignation as I grappled with the realization that my perception of the world had become fractured, leaving me to navigate a labyrinth of delusions and uncertainties.
I let out a heavy sigh, knowing that I would have to confront this overwhelming realization.
In the morning, I would call my parents. I needed their support and guidance, as the weight of these revelations was becoming too much for me to bear alone. I couldn't rely solely on my own judgment anymore. I needed help.
A tear trickled down my cheek, followed by another. The emotions welled up inside me, a mix of sadness, fear, and uncertainty. It wasn't an everyday occurrence to come to terms with one's own madness. But despite the pain, I knew it was crucial to face it head-on and fight against it with every ounce of strength I had. At least I was still aware of my condition, and that gave me a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos.
Lost in my own thoughts, I failed to notice the ominous presence lurking behind me as I ventured into a dilapidated neighborhood, a shortcut on my way home.
Suddenly, two assailants pounced on me, swiftly overpowering me within seconds. A feeble yelp escaped my lips before it was abruptly stifled by an old sock forcefully placed in my mouth. In the blink of an eye, one of them seized my mobile and callously discarded it, severing my last connection to the outside world. Bound and helpless, my hands tightly secured behind my back, I was beaten into submission. With each blow, my hope dwindled as they dragged me away further into the darkness.