creative writing fiction

D//E Fiction: The Senseless


The following story was written purposely for inclusion in the March D//E creative writing sectionAll characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

A man pulls back the hood of his sweatshirt, to reveal his skinhead and stubble. He has a shifty expression in his face and wears a light grey tracksuit. He carries with him under his arm rather proudly some boxed electrical items; a wireless router, some video games with the security seals intact and a digital camera.

    Inside the block of apartments, he hits the lift call control button on the wall. On entering the lift, he takes a quick look into the mirror opposite and arrogantly smiles at his reflection. He leans back against the glass mirror as the usual voice comes over the lift speaker.

"Please select your destination."
He pauses for a second with a perplexed expression.
"When the fuck did we get speakers in this pile of shit?"
Without further delay he presses number 4.
"Doors closing, lift going up."
The lights begin to flicker, but only for a split second. Moments later the lift reaches it’s destination.
"Doors opening."
The doors slide open and the man steps out of the lift and walks straight ahead towards his apartment. He takes his keys out of his pocket and begins to unlock the door. There’s something wrong with the lock as it seems to be jammed. Using some force he pauses and glances up to discover it’s the complete wrong floor number. He shakes his head, and mutters a few words under his breathe.
"Oh fuck’s sake, fucking lifts playin’ up again."
He marches back to the lift, where the doors are now stuck opening and shutting automatically by themselves, as if they’re laughing at him. Inside the lift he selects the same floor as he did before. The voice inside the lift starts to crackle and break up this time with some interference and white noise.
"Doors closing, lift going up."
The lift starts to make scraping noises as the lights begin to flicker and dim intermittently.
When the lift arrives the man gets out and notices he’s still stuck on the same floor.

"Fucks up man? I already chose floor 4. Is this lift bust or what? Sack this, I’m taking the stairs."
    He enters the next staircase which should lead him up to the third floor, but instead he’s met with an overwhelming amount of stairs and doorways at different heights and at all kinds of strange angles. The staircase has absolutely no relation to what we know as gravity. Gasping, he buckles falling back and drops all the boxes of goods. Right there in front of him, an even more bizarre event begins to happen. The boxes of goods begin to tumble over the edge of the staircase and seemingly into oblivion. While they fall they also loose their baring on gravity and begin to rise up, floating off in all different directions. He feels physically sick with Vertigo. Unable to comprehend what’s set out in front of him he gets back up and retreats back down to the ground floor, holding on carefully to the staircase. He rushes down to the staircase below until suddenly stifling his steps. The next set of stairs would have him crawling up the wall below. He suddenly finds himself smack-bang in the middle of a gigantic puzzle.
    Still reeling, the man heads back to the only other floor where gravity last seemed to exist, the second floor. Everything is all wrong! Up is down and down is up.
"Who’s doing this?"
"Who’s fucking with me?"
"You’d better show yourself and start explaining soon."
With the staircase out of bounds, he heads back to the lift on floor 2. With no other way to escape, he tries once more to select the right floor. The doors close and there’s no sound but the lift appears to be moving, he breathes a sigh of relief as the lift pings on floor 4.
"Oh, Thank fuck for that."
The lift doors open and the floor is no longer the floor, but the ceiling. He falls to his knees, crawling slowly out of the lift holding onto anything he can. He crawls through the darkness toward the far corner of the hallway to the nearest door, along what seemingly is the floor upside down.
"Why me?"
He manages to reach the door and about to push the door when he hears a muffled distant echoing voice.
"He looks like he’s going to speak - Should I call Jones?"
"Absolutely not! It’s too soon-" Replies the other voice.
"Hey!? Can anybody help me?"
Nobody answers. Nothing but deadly silence.
    From behind glass, a Police Officer and a Security Guard
watch a suspect closely. Sweating profusely, in a Catatonic state, is the suspect in custody. The security guard speaks,
"…he’s sweating. He knows."
The Police Officer turns to the Security Guard.

"So let him! It’s the least he deserves."
    Outside the interrogation room is a long corridor with many numbered doors. The whole place now looks more like a medical testing facility than a Police Station. A sign on the wall at the end of the corridor reads: CRIME RECOGNITION TESTING FACILITY.

© 2014 R.S / Destroy//Exist.

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