|In The Realm of Mannequins
Author: thecolorofdye PM
just read itRated: Fiction T - English - Fantasy/Adventure - Words: 2,314 - Reviews: 2 - Published: 07-20-12 - Status: Complete - id: 3043550
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
In The Realm of Mannequins I am their king. Everyone is quiet, but if you listen closely you can hear whispers. Wait. Stop. Is that just your imagination? It most likely is. I stride in wearing purple pants and a coat, hob-nobbing with different people of the parade as I make my way up to you. My shoes are pointy. They're the first thing you e because you're afraid to look me in the eye. As I pat the last mannequin on the shoulder I turn towards you. A sub-conscious lump forms in your throat.
"Hello," I say with all the charisma of a car salesman. As you try to meet my eyes you see a crooked smile. The mannequins all know I'm like a hyena; at least that's what the word is around the water cooler anyway. "Have you been there?" I ask pleasantly.
"Where?" you ask without thinking.
"The Water Cooler."
The space spins wildly until we are both in a new room now. Slightly smaller, but still populated with the mannequins. At the end of the room you can see an oversized water cooler that the mannequins have crowded around. The cooler goes up as high as the ceiling (up three stories) and in the water float orbs the size of your palms.
"Would you care for a drink good sir or madame?" I ask, closing in on the cooler. The mannequins almost give the impression of backing away almost. I sense your discomfort, but I do not acknowledge it. Instead, I go on. "The orbs are representative of the seven deadly sins. See the red one? That's lust. And the blue one with the stripe? Well that's murder. The green one is something or other. Our water is saturated with the sins we live in." Without asking again, I pour you a drink.
The water looks normal. Slightly cleaner. Slightly bluer. Nothing too out of the ordinary. "Drink," I say. And you obey. We take another journey now. We're in a room alone together. It's dark. "Sit." You find the chair behind you and as this starts to become even the slightest bit mundane you find yourself slightly annoyed.
-I make the rules here. You have no control-
I sit as well. Awkward silence passes between the two of us. "I'm not totally in control," I say, "he," I look up, "is." I wish that you would talk to me, but I don't dare say it out loud. I pat my chin with the outside of my finger and you notice my face beginning to morph. "Won't you talk to me?" I ask. Horns spiral from the outsides of my head and my shoulders arch backward for the wings to come out. I grab my forehead, struggling with something. The horns start moving upward into grey rabbit ears and my head cranes up into the light. Perfect to look just above your eye line. My eyes are yellow now; in the shape of a cat's. "I think that this… is certainly… not…ok."
Grasshopper entering the room. I go back to my original form. "Why are you like this," you exclaim. I can tell you really care. A smile stretches across my face. Defined lines on my cheeks make me look like I was once a rat.
"I am like this because I am me. I'm frustrated by my own answer." Sometimes the things I say, I think; and the things I think, I say. The room has lit up a little, shedding more light on the situation. Ha. Ha. I raise my hands into the air, showing you it. "See?" For a brief moment the light is fine, but then it becomes blinding and we have to leave. I take you out the door.
We enter another small room with one wall being a mirror. Our conversation will involve looking at each other indirectly. "What do you do?" No answer. "I just ate a sandwich." I shake my head knowing that was wrong. "No, I. What do you like to do for fun?" Pause. "Shed light on this situation." Nothing happens.
Our refleftions don't move and we stand there for a while. "I'm trying to think of something to say, damn it." You just give me this blank stare. I know you want to help me. I'm afraid it starts becoming not fun. "Don't leave." You look towards the wooden green door.
"It's too late," everyone says.
You open it. You fall and fall through an endless sky. That is, until it ends. You land in heaps of cotton. The man in the purple pans pops up through the fluff next to you. "I thought you said you didn't want me here." He pops down then pops back up to retrieve a top hat you didn't notice him wearing before. You look around. What is this? Cotton. Where am I? Come on. The cotton folds up into a wonderful chair made of leather. This is a typical counselors office. In order to welcome you a secretary enters the room.
"He will be with you in a moment to meet with you." She leaves, closing the door behind her. You relax and shuffle about to find a comfortable position. A black cat walking on all fours enters the room and hops up into the chair across from you. He crosses his legs and reveals THE CLIPBOARD.
"I am here to analyze you." All is quiet. There is a clock ticking. You can see it out of the corner of your eye. It's big. It's on the wall. The cat sits patiently trying to set the scene. He looks at his watch. "Have you been here before?" he asks. Look inside yourself for the answer. "Please, I encourage you to look inside yourself for the answer." His voice has a hint of some sort of accent. "Does this place seem familiar in any way?" He writes your thoughts on THE CLIPBOARD.
He looks up to ask a newer question. He's just trying this one out. "Have you met anyone here yet?" You're about to answer, but he tilts his eyes up in thought as if listening to someone. "Actually, I take that back." He flips a paper on THE CLIPBOARD and writes something about himself. "The trouble with analyzing someone is that you always find out new things about yourself." He looks at different objects in the room. Trying not to stare, you notice the nice Persian rug below the leather. "I'm going to step out for a minute," he starts, "but I will be back shortly." You wait. Tik-tik. He re-enters the room swiftly and sits back down. He pauses, then gets back up and leaves. You can hear a conversation between him and his secretary in the hall.
"I just don't have the knack for this anymore." – Cat
"Well ya gotta. Who else will do it?" – Secretary
"Sigh" – Cat
The cat re-enters the room still using all four legs instead of two. He grabs THE CLIPBOARD from his chair and looks up at you. "Does this place seem familiar to you in any way?" This conversation is over. The secretary comes in to fetch the cat. She picks him up and carries him away.
"Do you think they have a thing going on?" You look beside you. It's the man and his top hat. He looks around while nodding. "Love this place." He blows air out the side of his mouth. "If you want to get out of here, then you have to get up." He knows you so well.
The man in purple pants doesn't follow you. When you look back he remains seated. He's talking to himself - half thinking. "I am…" he sounds unsure, "next."
Outside the office is a small 5x5. The walls are tan. The ceiling is black. You wait. Rain begins to hit the ceiling. It becomes transparent, so do the walls. It sounds like it's made of tine. This is the longest you've been alone. Now you know… A tall man dressed as a bunny comes up to one of the walls and places his hand on it from the outside. His drawn on whiskers aren't coming off in the rain. He stares at you a long while, his face blank. You can try to read into him, but his expression leads to nowhere.
Gently, he opens the wall and lends out a hand. You walk through the mist together. You're unable to feel the rain/ He turns to you with that stare. He lifts up a white sign which reads: "Actions meaningless. I can only hear." He won't give you time to think about it. He just takes your hand. You both walk until the fog clears. You can see that you're walking through a bright forest now.
In the distance is a large pink and blue egg with a door. There is a sign jammed into the ground by a wooden stake that reads: "My home." A song begins to play in reverse. The door makes a lovely door noise when he invites you in.
There are two decorative arm chairs placed perfectly in front of a brick fireplace. You notice a painting of the cat on the wall. It is of the hyper-realist fashion. In it, he's holding a brain in a cat's cradle. He stares up from under his eyes. There are more of these paintings. All of them of different people posed in weird positions.
The bunny takes you up the stairs. Upstairs is a single easel and a window looking out into the backyard. The room is perfectly circular with blank canvases propped up against the walls. The bunny sits you down. Carefully, he selects a canvas. He dip brush in red paint. Then, he draws a red line in the center of the board. He scratches his head then disappears. There is a red line on the canvas. You are allowed to enter it.
Inside, the walls swell and are dripping with fluid. They close in around you and retreat. The juices form in puddles around the floor. A goat gets excreted from the ceiling and falls flat into a pool of the liquid. He gets up onto his hind legs and punches the wall. It smushes into his blow. He snarls, looking at you ashamed. Then he takes a bite from the wall. The juices stain his already tainted fur. He pries at the walls and struggles to rip them a part. All you can hear are the squishy sounds the wall makes when he attacks them. The dripping walls keep breathing in and out. If you want to know where you are, you may not.
The goat looks at you crazed with anger. "Ugly." It grunts. The room finishes into a circle surrounded by thousands of framed mirrors. "Ugly." The mirrors begin to drip with blood.
Everything goes dark. The goat is still with you. You can feel him. Different colored lights spark to life and shine down on the walls. "They pick," the goat says. One of the walls becomes translucent and you can see a small room covered with mannequins. They're behind the blue light. There are similar rooms like this for each light. The goat morphs into a very tall black figure.
"hello," It says smoothly.
"hello," you reply. It's shape is constantly changing slowly. "You see the black cat run in and perch upon his shoulder.
The cat speaks: "He likes doing this." The glass wall fades back to black. "Your favorite color…" the cat says. He marks down your response on THE CLIPBOARD. Room change, but he will not interfere.
It's time you are alone now. Too often are we given this opportunity, but too often we do not take it. Why do you not understand what it is the people want? The room is grey. Medium sized. A piece of hair crawls out from where the wall meets the floor. It metamorphisizes into a butterfly before your eyes. It's beautiful. You love this butterfly. What is it, like blue or something? After a long time of observing it, you notice that another has appeared. It's easy to watch both of them, but becomes harder when a third enters, probably of the monarch variety. Bug tubes enter the room and blow thousands in. It's a blur of clutter flutter and confusion. The insects crawl into your throat. They fall out of your nostrils and creep from inside your ears. One escapes from under your eyelid. You grasp your throat before suffocating.
"I have to show you something." It's the man in purple pants. He's talking to you through a computer monitor, but easily steps through it to greet you.
You're back in the room filled with mannequins. I'm mingling with the parade as I make my way toward you. I cup my hand over your ear. "I," I look around anxiety ridden. "I am him," I whisper. "Don't leave me." I hear him talking. "No, I am not, wait yes." There is tension looming. You feel the butterflies crawling all over my skin. "I am…" You are the reason they go away. "No! They like me. Stop!" You slowly start drifting backwards. At first the man is in shock, but then he tries to chase after you. "No! Please!" He yells. I pull you further and further away. He starts running, pushing over mannequins. "Please!" He's tripping over himself, sobbing, reaching out his hand… "No I won't…" and then…