The Knock…

The Knock…

There it goes again. That staccato sound – like a fist tapping against wood. Or maybe it’s the beat of a large drum outside somewhere. I don’t know. I can’t see my hands or even the wall. Just a knock that comes with some degree of regularity. Or maybe not. I don’t know…everything blends together in here. I don’t even know where here is. I woke up here, but I have vague memories of the outside. A long, narrow hallway with faceless grunts…screaming, terrible screaming. I wanted it to stop – then I blacked out.

There’s no air here…no fresh air anyway. Just plain recycled air piped in from outside…but the air is so stale, it’s not outside air anymore. Just air that’s passed through a hundred lungs and various fans. Heh, that’s an interesting thought – factory direct air. It’s the only comfort I have here. The knock isn’t any comfort. Just…wait…a second here…

There…did you hear it? That knocking sound? I wonder if it’s my imagination – that the knocking is my heartbeat. I doubt it…hearts don’t sound like wood when they beat. There isn’t any echo either. I haven’t moved from my spot…wherever it is. I don’t even know where the door it – if it even exists. There’s no light here either.

A while ago, there was a terrible noise outside. Or at least I think it was outside…I heard it faintly. Through the unseen air ducts. I hope they’re air ducts anyway. The noise was a crash – like thunder – and a whooshing sound. Sharp knocking sounds and then silence.

There’s just me in here. The knocking moves around as well. On the ceiling…in the darkness…I think it’s my imagination. I’m in the darkness though. I move around…but not much. Just enough to exercise. The knocks move around as well…I said that, didn’t I? Wait! The knock again! On the ceiling this time! Or was it closer? I don’t know…I don’t even know who I’m talking to. Are you real or are you in my imagination as well?

I don’t know what’s real or not. It’s just me alone in the Darkness…

With the knocks…

Knock

Knock

Knock