The Faces

My body has become attuned to the darkness of a room. A room of hopelessness. There had been no one here for days to hear my screams of agony and sorrow. Eventually, there was not much to hear.

The sounds had become muffled and raspy. My speech or at least what was left was only down to a murmur.

Sounded close to a crazy person's monologue for the play they had created for themselves.

At the present what needed to happen was to get my body off the floor. The room was all fear. The walls screamed and moaned.

The sounds were only part of a contorted fantasy. Not a fantasy of anyone personally related to me though.

Often, my thoughts move to how one could be lead and trapped here.

A few days ago, the day was normal. My mother had made steak and potatoes. My most treasured lunch. We laughed and played some board games.

She asked me to accompany her to the store so we could have more food for the week. The store was just down the street. We past walk there almost every day. The owner loves us. Not a huge place, but cheaper than the larger places.

When we were there just the day before, he spoke of a few new houses that had been added to the town. My mom seemed overjoyed. She had wanted to move us to a new place for so long.

The store owner told her that there should be a number on one of the doors for us to contact someone about the property. As we walked back home, you could hear the work on the houses progress.

A symphony of chaos.

As the sun went down, my eagerness to see what was really new here shot up. As my mother fell asleep, my body was possessed by the need to know and show my eyes the wonders of new.

All alone my knowledge hungry possessed body walked to the house that was the most done. The door wasn't locked. Made sense. No one was here.

Once the door was open and the threshold was crossed, there was no longer safety. From there was just nosy searches from room to room. But there was one room that had a locked door.

Locked? But the house wasn't done. How was the door locked? Usually, my psyche would just tell me to leave. But my feet only progressed forward. When the knob turned and stopped, there was no reason for me to stay.

But, the thoughts that ran amok through my head told me to try once more. There was a meager delay but my hand made the knob turn anyway.

When the door opened, my thoughts raced each other too see what my foremost thought would be. But there wasn't really a thought to be had.

The room was dark and empty. Sad and wreaked of lonesomeness. Had someone passed away here. Were they murdered? Why the sudden feel of gloom and abandonment?

My head was ready for me to leave but my body was adamant that there was more here to see. There was more new.

My body traveled through the house as my thoughts wandered haphazardly. Was there any danger here? Couldn't tell.

But that one room, halted me. There was more to explore yes, but there was just a mystery about that one room.

My body walked back there and entered that room once more. The mood of the room had not changed. But there was suddenly a need to touch the dark walls.

Mud?

No smell. No taste that was worth the retrospect. Trust, my tongue has tasted mud before. And not of my own say so.

So not mud.

Absolutely not chocolate.

The taste was unusual, but almost commonplace. For lack of a better word.

That taste has been on my tongue before, but the memory moves beyond my talent to recollect even the most mundane events.

There's a hushed tone around me. Low and almost muted. Sounded close to a sob. Was there someone here?

Cover myself.

But how?

No footsteps.

What was here? Or who?

A hum?

The sounds seemed confused themselves. They couldn't agree on whether they wanted to be loud or soft.

My body moved, well crawled, to the back corner of that room. Suppose someone walked by the door, they wouldn't have seen me. But the door closed.

The door locked.

The knob wouldn't turn. My screams weren't heard. But there were screams heard over me. Who was that?

No one was here but me.

Backed up towards the wall, my body felt the touch of a mouth. Before my thoughts caught up my body was already granted a loud scream to leave and flow through that small room.

My eyes scanned the room promptly.

Eventually my thoughts caught up to my body and remembered my cell.

No bars.

But the use of the screen was enough to show me that my body would never leave that small room.

The hushed tones, the low and almost muted sounds, the hums came from that small room.

Came from the walls.

That wasn't mud. That wasn't chocolate. That unusual and commonplace taste was BLOOD.

Dehydrated and flaky. The wall was a bunch of faces. All faces!

They moaned, they wept. Called for help.

Eyes fell to the floor and rolled to my feet.

Blood spouted from the mouths of them all.

Some of them had teeth that fell to the floor. They all stared at me. They all yelled for me to help them.

My thoughts seemed to evaporate. My body couldn't move anymore.

There was too much here. That small room was a room of death and my body was trapped there.

No one heard my screams. No one heard me weep. No one came to stay.

Had my mom moved on? Had she looked for me?

Here my body sat. The faces all stared at me. We moaned together.

There was only the murmurs, the body parts, the blood and weeps that surrounded me.

Alone.

All alone, stared at by the faces.