And now, with the winds of destiny afloat and cruising along the surface of the sultry sea that is fate, attention is turned to another person of action. That of eleven year old Abor Maybrook.
Where was he? That was what he thought as he walked along the cold, black hallway. And more importantly, how long had he been here? It felt like he had been here a long time— days, even. But that was impossible. If it had been days, he would have needed to eat and drink. And sleep. But he had to do none of that— he hadn’t even had to relive himself yet, so it couldn’t have been days. But if it were not days, then how long?
Abor did not know much of anything on a good day, being just a child. He knew some stuff about television, video games, online etiquette and what to do if someone assumed he liked other boys— the answer was to cuss them out and assume that their mother was promiscuous— but not much else, sadly. And that knowledge wasn’t helping him here, wherever ‘here’ was.
“Hello? Anyone there?” Abor asked for what seemed like the millionth time since arriving in this place.
And how did he arrive? He had no clue.
One day he was out to get the mail and the next he slipped and fell to the hallway floor. Having lost his footing more times than he could count— being a bit of an awkward lad, he often lost his footing— but he quickly righted himself; when he came to his feet, though, everything was off.
On his feet once more, he had seen the world essentially remain the same, but with one glaring difference— it was all curled in upon itself, like reality was bending toward him. Abor moved awkwardly as well, as though his joints were crusted with human rust and unable to bend. Movement in general was weird and Abor freaked for a moment, thinking that something was wrong with his brain or muscles. He cried out for his mother but no one was nearby. So, he walked, and tried to find he and his mother’s apartment.
Yet, finding the apartment was no good. Despite the fact that she and he lived in a small apartment block with hardly a gaggle of other neighbors on each floor, now Abor saw dozens of doors in the hallway. Frantically searching for their door number— seventeen— he found nothing and started to hyperventilate and cry out. But, again, no one came to his aid.
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After a good crying spell— and another sobbing jag beside that after Abor furiously knocked on every door he could to summon help only to find that no one came to answer the door, despite his vigorous knockings— he tried to calm himself and move on. From his pocket he took out one of his mom’s special ‘calming candies.’ She made such candies herself and always said that they contain a special ingredient derived from a plant to make you feel calmer in times of stress; Abor always kept such candies on him both for times of stress but also for times of rest. Now, counted as a time of stress if he ever knew, so he voraciously eat one.
And then, he began to wander. Up and down the hallway, searching for his apartment door. Then, when he reached the end of the hallway, he went up a flight of stairs; the stairs were . . . weirdly long going up, as though a massive distance separated each floor from one another despite the fact that the building they were in was, by all accounts, a simple three floor home. Once he arrived on the next floor, though, it was just another seemingly endless hallway. Going to the next floor up, Abor saw the same sight: a hallway which snaked off into the dark.
What was he to do? He was just a kid. How had he found himself in this situation? He was just going to check the mail and now . . .
Suppressing another crying spell, Abor redoubled his efforts to find his door. Up and down the hallways, knocking on every door on both sides of said hallway, crying out for anyone, and repeating the process for floor upon floor. But though he remained steadfast for a while, after hours of knocking to no avail, he finally broke down and sobbed once more.
“It was hopeless,” he thought to himself as he sat on a step in the monstrous oversized stairwell. “I’m going to die here. I’m never even going to get a chance to kiss a girl. Or do taxes.”
He didn’t know how long, but Abor sat in the dark of that place for a long while. He was silent except for a slight breeze which somehow made its way to him; being a bad scout, Abor did have the idea to follow the wind to the escape, but he quickly found that the wind was as irrational as anything else in this place and seemed to caress his skin at random intervals in random places in both the hallway and the stairwell. Up, down, sideways, it made no difference. He was here and he was alone.
Leaning now against the side railing of the internal staircase, he was able to stare down into the well and see the neatly sequential nature of the stairwell as it trailed off into darkness, only interrupted by barely discernable platforms; Abor knew by experience that these platforms led into the hallways he had been frequenting. Looking up, Abor saw the same sight, except he could see less than if he looked down due to the big blocks of the staircase blocking his vision. Looking back where he was, he was stuck. So, he did the only thing he could do, continue going up— level by level until he found something worth clinging to.