Higher and higher— and it meant nothing.

Abor did all he could, but it was for naught. It felt like hours had gone by but he didn’t really know; he had gone up dozens of levels in this weird building but the sights were the same. Or mostly the same . . . with the notable exception of the doors growing in height. On the lower floors, the doors were of a normal height for a small boy like himself but now, so much higher in this accursed location, and the doorknobs were so elevated that Abor could barely grace them with his finger if he was on his tippy toes.

The situation felt hopeless. He just felt numb and . . . cold. And the doors he knocked on loomed over him like an angry parent ready to strike.

He didn’t know what to do: should he continue down this hallway and try and find something new? He had never been all the way down a hallway, so maybe something was at the end? Like an elevator, maybe?

But Abor had no clue how far these hallways went or if anything was waiting for him at the end. He didn’t want to tire himself out with a long walk back to the stairwell if that was the case. Yet, the same was true of the stairwell; Abor had no clue how high this place went and if there even was a roof to this place.

“No . . . there has to be an end. Has to be an end. It is impossible for there not to be an end. Impossible,” Abor spoke to himself, trying to get himself to make a decision.

But he did make a decision. His legs made it for him and he turned around back to the stairwell and continued his upward climb.

Going up and up, Abor did not bother to check the hallways anymore; he might take a peek once and a while to see that nothing had fundamentally changed, but he focused for now on just placing one foot in front of the other and climbing further up. Time lost all meaning as Abor made the climb; instead, time to him, was a step.

And many steps passed him by as Abor fought his way up the stairwell tower. By now, it almost seemed as though something else, something more, was driving him, calling to him, urging him to take that last step; promising that each step would be the last even as unknowable more steps laid before him.

Sweat drenched, Abor had to rest. Catching his breath for a few minutes, he resumed his climb, only to bump into a wall. He was confused. Then he saw it. The top.

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He had reached the top.

No more floors. No more hallways. Just this, the final hallway.

No. He had to correct himself. The final hallways.

To his left and right were two doors, each appearing to lead off into their own door filled hallways like the previous floors down. Then, in front of him, was a center-most hallway and this one was different than any other hallway he had seen. This was the hallway he stepped into and walked deep into.

Each step Abor took reverberated throughout the hall. On either side of Abor there was no more apartment doors. Just a single uninterrupted stretch of hallway leading into the abyss. Here, the only source of light were tacky plastic lightbulbs that were in the shape of little flames. It reminded Abor of holiday lights his mother would string around the apartment every December. Gods, how he missed his mother and the warmth from her embrace.

And the crisp fall weather that was approaching fast— the homemade apple pies, creamy egg-nog, and playing in the leaves. He would ever again embrace any of his passions again if he didn’t find his way out of this place; never see his mother’s tender face or feel the wind on his skin. Here, there was no wind. Not anymore.

Forgetting himself as he thought of his life back home, Abor walked mindlessly along the passageway, placing feet in front of feet without regard for the changing of the hallway and how what was a modern but distorted hall had morphed into an increasingly dilapidated murder scene.

Abor did not stop to observe his surroundings until he noticed the echo in every step he took. Looking down, he saw stone. Old stone. Ragged with age.

But he knew not where he was. Wherever Abor was, he was in complete darkness.

Carefully feeling his way around in the abyss, Abor gradually worked out that he had been transported— somehow— into a narrow room. An empty room; for, feeling his way from top to bottom, desperately trying to find a light switch or anything that would illuminate, Abor felt nothing in this room but rough hewn stone.

“Stop it. Go back, Abor, there is nothing here. Let’s try another hallway,” Abor told himself sternly as he finally gave up on trying to locate a a light source. Now, he tried to find his way out of the room.

But he couldn’t. No matter how hard he tried, he could not find the exit, the way he had came.

Frantic, Abor re-doubled himself and searched like a madman. But to no avail. Whatever had happened, the door and hallway beyond, had vanished. He was stuck in this small stone room.

Needing to sit down, Abor caught his breath. He had been hyperventilating and knew that he needed to calm himself. But calming himself was awfully hard to do with panic setting in at every turn.

It was not long before he felt cold and sad.

“This was it. This is where I am going to die,” Abor cried as he curled into a fetal position for warmth. “In the dark. By myself. Not even knowing myself. Why?”

Rocking himself like a baby back and forth, Abor sobbed with utter hopelessness.

That is, until a warmth at his ear, whispered an idea.