The last thing i remember,
I was out with friends, in a pub, i had just finished a pint of beer and was heading home, the pub was closing, the bell for last orders was rung an hour ago, i staggered outside,
A cab was picking someone up, they were arguing over the cost of the ride,
Over to the right near the bar garden a couple were making out, he's hands were like leaches trying to suck the life out of her breast and his head was swaying from side to side quicker then a metronome on steroids his lips the pivot point and he's erection was way to obvious to the crowd that had gathered to gawp, who stood laughing and pointing to the bulge in his trousers,
Over to the left in the small car park a fight had broken out, again, i swear this happens every friday night, i'm surprised the police don't just post a couple of guys here, it would save them the trouble of traveling, yep every friday you can guarantee one poor sod was heading to a hospital and the other was heading to the local Magistrate, i remember waving my hand at them, i've seen this all before,
I looked down the street and could see my friend, he was waving his arms about, gesturing for me to hurry up, then i stepped in something, at first i thought it was dog shit, but i didn't slide through it, my left foot was stuck to it, i couldn't move, i looked down at my feet, and sure enough my left shoe was stuck in a small puddle of what looked like tar, stupidly i looked up as if the tar had fallen from the heavens, i hadn't noticed at first but the noise from the fight had stopped, i looked up to my friend who was standing still, just looking at me, thats when i released that there was no noise, i don't mean that the crowd fighting had stopped, i mean nothing, not a sound, i stuck a little finger in my ear and tried to shack free the wax, still nothing, i turned to the group of fight clubbers, they were just standing like my friend, looking at me, the couple making out in the garden had stopped and they're were also staring so were the gawkers, he still had that uncomfortable bulge in his trousers, even the cabbie was looking at me from the front sit of his volvo and his fair in the back seat too, i thought i was dreaming because nothing is this weird, one other person was looking, but i couldn't make them out, a man i think, in the shadows, i didn't see him before,
I freed my foot from the tar and then like a crashing wave all the sound came flooding back, the fight was still in fall swing the cabbie was still arguing the dude with the uncomfortable bulge was still eating face and my friend was calling to me, i could feel the sticky tar still on my shoe as i started to walk towards him, i could barely hear, he seemed so far away, he's pointing at something, but what, now he's running towards me, "I'm fine" i slur, and wave a hand like i'm batting at a fly, he's still pointing though and he seems to be screaming something, i turn to look over my shoulder when a dull thud contacts my head, then i fell to the ground, i could feel the wet path beneath me, but all was a haze, like a thick fog had just landed,
Thats the last thing you remember,
The haze is still before you and your head really fucking hurts, reaching to the saw spot you feel a lump and i small amount of warm fluid, you open your eyes and look at your hand, but you can barely see it the fog is so thick, but the tinge of red is unmistakable, one of them fight clubbers must had cracked you with something, thats why your friend was running towards you shouting, he was trying to warn you, but why was i left on the wet floor, and for how long,
You try to push yourself up off the ground, Lightening, but no sound of thunder, its more of a buzzing sound, the ground feels different, its not the path its something else, feels more like wood, you stand and rise above the mist that has settled about 3 feet high, your mind is still a little clouded by the blow to your head, the lights flicker and a wave of dizziness courses you to loss balance, you instinctively put out your arm to support yourself against the wall,
wall?, where are you?,
Your head is still doing summersaults, and you must still be out of it because your standing in a horrid corridor, the smell is enough to make you vomit,
So you do,
Once your finished you look at the door in front of you, apparently its room 00, odd that there is a room zero, never seen that before, you knock on the door, the sound echos down the uninviting corridor, you knock again and wait, still nothing, on response, you look down, frowning at the brass door nob you notice that there isn't a lock or even a key hole, well what for it, you grab the brass door nob and turn it anti-clockwise, nothing happens, the door doesn't open, you try again, still nothing, you step back to get a better look of the over all door, dark blue in colour and the number 00 screwed in brass with a matching door nob, you look to the right, the number 02 in copper, you grasp the copper door nob, still nothing, are all the doors locked, you shout out for somebody, your own noise courses your head to throb, but nothing, your alone, you move down the corridor, the floor feels soft under foot and every now and then there is a crunch but you can't see the floor through the layer of fog, your not sure why you are moving down the corridor, deeper into the dark but you know that you need to, your looking for your door, not looking at them anymore, you know where your going, the 9th door to the left, but why this door, how do you know this door is unlocked and will even open for you,
You standing in front of door 18, you look at the number emblazoned in gold screwed in place with golden screws the door is a rich red colour the handle like something from a posh 1930's hotel, and apart from the smell in the air and the slime at you feet this door could look very exclusive, your right hand moves for the door, but you stop it just before grabbing the golden handle, it wasn't you moving your hand, you didn't want to do that, but some uncontrollable force moved your hand for you,
You look to the left, back the way you came, the brass number 00 is just visible through the haze in your mind, that way doesn't feel right, you look the other way, you can't make out the numbers on the door farthest from you, but still it doesn't feel right, i fact that way makes you shiver and feel nauseous, you look back to the rich red of the door in front of you, the gold numbers, unblemished in this tormented corridor, somehow this door is the way out and you know this to be true,
You reach out for the door handle, and like some unknown force your hand is drawn to it, a pleasant warm feeling fills your arm, and for a moment the haze in your mind lifts and all is clear to you, you turn the handle anti-clockwise, a click and the handle pushes your hand away, as if it no long wants or needs your help, and the door opens, just a little, your task is almost complete, the haze returns clouding your mind,
You lean forward and try to look through the gap between the door and the frame work, but there doesn't seem to be anything to see, just darkness,
Nothing, after all this, nothing, now how the hell do you get out of this FUCKING PLACE, you turn to your left and step away from door 18, but as you do you hear music, its not your cup of tea, like something you would hear in an elevator, you stop and turn back to the door, the darkness is replaced with light, a golden light, you move towards the music, and with your left hand you push the door open,
A grand ball room lays before you, a red carpet, red and gold furniture, this whole room is decorated with red and gold, how tacky, with hugh gold trims lining the ceiling all very 1930's, a standing sign calls just inside the door tells me this place is the Gold Ball Room and apparently it opens at 8 pm sharp, you look at your watch, its 7:30 pm, again confusion, you were sure you left the pub after mid-night, you look up, and notice a bar, at the far end a bit small for a place this size, but then in a place this fancy you would have waiters right?, and with a dance floor i suppose people came, or come here to dance, rather then drink, you head towards the bar, you take a quick look back to the door as you go, its still open, but you notice a black stain on the red carpet a few inches from the door, you stop immediately and look down at your left shoe, there's nothing there, could of sworn you stepped in tar or something, oh well, the bar awaits, you clap your hands and rub them together,
There isn't a bar tender, the sign did say it opens at 8 pm sharp, did it mean the ball room or the bar, you look back to the door, its still open, you can see the flickering lights in the corridor and the mist seems to be held back some how,
You turn back and a bar man is standing in front of you cleaning a glass with a bright white towel, he asks about the lump on your head pointing with a free finger, you stop and star for a moment then tell him that last night, "I guess", you were leaving a pub and then all became quiet, you couldn't hear anything, then you noticed your friend pointing to something, and as you turned you felt a thud, "i see" says the bar man, you ask for a Carlsberg Export, but the bar man just shacks his head slowly, a budweiser then, again he shacks his head, you ask what beer he does have, the bar man stops cleaning the glass putting it down on the counter with the towel, and retrieves another one from underneath, moving to the tap the bar man begins to pour out a beer, you pull out your wallet and take a 10 pound note from inside, the bar man puts the beer in front of you, you offer the tenner, the bar man raises his hand to stop you and tells you that your money isn't any good here, thats when you notice the American accent, you lean forwards and gesture for the bar man to move in closer, you ask where you are, the bar man simply replies, "The Gold Ball Room sir", you frown at his answer, "where in the world am i" the bar man stands up strait picks up the glass and continues to clean it, "I don't think that matters sir, enjoy your drink", confusion seems to be the word of the day today, whatever day this is, you look at the beer,
Behind you, over by the door, the tar begins to crawl, growing as it moves, spreading like a fungus across the like new red carpet, silent,
You look into the mirror behind the bar, the door is still open, you look down at the drink again, wondering, a free beer in a place like this, you look to the dance floor, then to all the empty seats, you take your wallet off the counter to place it back in your pocket but you drop it, sigh, you bend down to pick it up, the throbbing worsens,
The tar, like some nightmare creator has made its way to the wall beside the door, which is still open, and is climbing and spreading its foulness, tearing away at the fabric of this room like crows on a corpse,
You've fetched your wallet from the floor and returned to the counter, Music, and people, lots of people have filled the ball room, you stare at they're reflection in the mirror, a man to your left bumps you and quickly turns and apologizes slapping you on the back, you sit staring at yourself in the mirror, the dance floor is filled with people doing the charleston and waiters are moving from table to table taking orders, with your wallet still in your hand your rub your face and your eyes, again looking at the mirror, afraid to make eye contact with any of them, quickly you reach forward and stop a bar man you ask him where the toilet is, the bar man can't here you, so you shout, "wheres the bathroom, the bathroom", the bar man nods and points to a door just behind the bar, you look to your left and push yourself away from the bar, but quickly you stop, you look at the drink on the counter, man you need that right now, you snatch up your pint and make for the toilet,
The tar has reached the ceiling and has spread unseen behind draped decor over most of the far wall and is moving across the ceiling, consuming the reality of this room like a disease, the edges made up of thousands upon thousands of demonic claws tearing the room apart like it was flesh, eating it, consuming it, becoming it,
You pass a large texan at the door to the men's, you let him pass without looking him in the eye, in fact you haven't looked anyone in the eye except the bar man, you enter the mens toilet, the decor in here is vulgar to say the least, gold plated sink units and red painted walls, luckily the door has a lock, you turn it and quickly move to the gold plated sink units putting the beer down on the white work top you look long and hard at yourself in the mirror, maybe your head injury is worse then you think, you eye the cubicles behind you in the mirror, gold plated toilets, who ever decorated this place needs to be shot, taking a roll of toilet paper you tear off a woad and start patting the area around the lump, what blood remains is dry and cracked, but only moments ago it was fresh, you check your watch again, 11:37 pm, "what", hands on the sink unit you drop your head down, more confusion, the haze is returning to you and the throbbing on the back of your head starts up again, you turn the cold tap on and filling your cupped hands with water you soak your face hoping that you'll wake up on the ground outside the pub, anger fills your body, hands on the sink unit again you drop your head and let out a scream, tensing up,
The top of the toilet door, the tar crawls through a gap and moves up to the ceiling in a thin vein of poison, it starts moving towards you, slowly creeping, silently stalking its prey,
You push off the sink unit and kick it, there well made, and now besides the throbbing on, and in your head your foot starts to hurt, you calm down and pick up the beer,
The vein of tar is almost over head,
You take a mouth full for the pint, its still really cool and tastes great, it has to be the best tasting beer you've ever had, wonder what it is, never tasted it before,
The poison vein above you releases a drop of itself,
As you left the pint glass back up to your mouth the little drop of poison tar lands in your drink unnoticed, you tilt your head back place the glass on your bottom lip and pour the rest of the beer down your neck, the drop of tar goes down with it, with your head tilted back, you open your eyes and immediately see the vein of tar running across the ceiling, you follow the vein to the door, did it follow you in, and way did it stop right above you, a shiver of realization comes over you, you look at the pint glass, you convulse dropping the glass, the pain is excruciating, you double over with pain, its unbearable, using the sink units for support you slowly make you way to the door, stepping through broken glass, but once you let go of the sink unit you fall, crawling to the door you reach up and unlock it, you feel like your being eaten from the inside, like something is tearing into you, the feeling is moving upward, your finding it hard to breath,
You manage to open the toilet door to the ball room, now the music is playing at a slow speed and getting slower as if the music itself was dying, the people that are left are in panic as they watch they're friends get eaten by the tar sinking into it with on escape, the screams are hellish, you crawl forwards, you know where the door is, you try to find it but the bar is still in the way, the last of the guests is consumed by the tar, and the music finally dies,
Silents falls, not a sound, except the noise created by you as you crawl through the tar looking for the door, you pass the bar and see the flicking light from the corridor, its to far away and as you move through the tar it begins to attack you from the outside, but slowly, it knows its inside you, eating and tearing from the inside, breathing is becoming to much effort you gasp for air,
The tar starts to encompass your mouth, it begins to pour out of the corners running down your neck, your nose at first starts to bleed out but not for long soon the tar starts to spread around your face moving to your ears first moving inside, then your eyes, it covers them eating at your eye lids so you can't close them then from the pupil your eyes open and the tar forces it way inside, soon after your face is a mass of tar soon after that your body is being consumed by it,
Your body frozen, on your knees your head tilted back and your hands reaching out as if your reach for god, the door slowly closes, the shaft of flickering light thins to nothing,
Darkness
Then a redness, the pulsating pain returns to the back of your head, you open your eyes, you nose is inches away from the golden 18 and the rich red door, quickly you stagger back away from the door crashing into another, you turn to see a wooden 17 nailed to a door that looks like its made of tree bark, backing away from that door you stand in the middle of the corridor the mist has gone, you see the brass double zero, a flash, you look down at your shoes, the tar that was there earlier is gone, again you look to the red door number 18 in gold, you star at it while walking back to door 00, thats where you woke up there has to be a way out over there, the crunching beneath your feet again, you look down to see the insects that infest this corridor, you start to freak out walking like your on hot coals, maybe its because you forgot about the wet floor but you slip and fall backwards hitting the back of your head on the path,
Just before you pass out you turn your head to see the pub and the couple who were making out watching what ever is going on,
Darkness
Whatever was in that room is out now never to return to its prison, and apart of you is now trapped forever, in purgatory, in the Gold Ball Room, a piece of your soul so to speak,
Regards
I shine to room 18
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