Stride

By Estelle Goostree
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The hum of electricity trickled it way into my ears, consuming my thoughts. It was louder than anything I could think of. It’s monotonous, unchanging tone commanded me to open my eyes. I was no longer lying in my bed, covered by soft blankets that smelled of fresh-cut flowers.  Now, I was alone in a large room with white, bleak, infinite wallpaper. Instead of flowers, my nose was greeted by the unmistakable scent of mold and decay. The carpet I was on, the same color as the walls, was covered in stains of varying size, shape, and color. There was a slight dampness to it that left my hands slightly wet as I got up. 
 
In front of me, there was a hallway that reached as far as I could see. Fluorescent lights lined up neatly on the ceiling; that also had its fair share of stains. I noticed there were no rooms on either side of the hallway, just forward. Occasionally, I would go through a section that was darker than the rest; the lights either flickering or out entirely. I heard nothing but the sound of humming lights and my own footsteps. Nothing suggested any other life with me; no other footsteps, or voices; not even the sound of movement. I was all by myself here.
 
I had been walking for days, or maybe hours; it had to have been more than just minutes, I think. There was nothing on the walls, just its alluring infinity and the occasional droplet of water.  No clocks, no indication of day or night. All I had was the maddening sound of electricity and the stench of death. I looked back every now and then; it all looked the same. There were no signs of an exit, not even a turn or a dead end.
 
I kept walking forward, hoping that I would soon see a door; or at least some sort of exit.  I tried running as fast as I could and walking as slowly as possible, but the hallway didn’t seem to care. No matter my pace, it was the exact same in either direction. I was determined, though, there had to be something, and I would find it. 
 
More time had passed when I finally heard the singular, quiet ring of a bell. I froze in my tracks; this sound was new; it offered the release I had been hoping for: any sound other than electricity and footsteps. I waited a few minutes for another chime, but none came. I waited longer, but I got the feeling I was wasting time. So, I set out again, continuing down this corridor.
 
A few paces down the imprisoning passageway, I heard another distinct chime. This time, I could just barely make out a melodic ticking sound following every chime. The sound bounced off the walls; it felt like the sound was coming from every direction. Or so I thought, until I made the mistake of turning around. Behind me, there was a tall, dancing figure. The silhouette was the darkest black, but I could also make out dozens of flowing fabrics in every, impossible color emitting from this being. I stood still, looking at this wretch. I got what I so desperately wanted: something in this hall. 
 
I noticed it was coming straight for me, albeit at a very slow pace. Regardless, I panicked.  I ran as fast as I could until I collapsed on the wet carpet, out of breath. The chiming and ticking was much quieter than before so I must have put a good deal of distance between me and the dancing figure. I focused my mind on two things: finding a door and refusing to let that thing catch up to me.
 
I was hungry, and it was even worse that I was thirsty. I didn’t have time to stop and think about my options. I was trapped here, no foreseeable way out, and no supplies. I was unsure of the potential threat ever-lurking behind me, and I wasn’t ready to find out. I tried not to think about my need for sustenance and instead focused on trying to find a way out of this forsaken holding. I did the only thing I could do; I kept walking. 
 
The air in this section of the hallway was much heavier than the others. The intense humidity that reeked of fungus filled my lungs, reminding me that I had to keep moving, had to do whatever was necessary to find a way out. It was also much harder to breathe here; the air, thick with moisture, caused me to be out of breath much faster than usual. I had to take breaks more often, but I refused to sit here. The stain-ridden carpet also made an abhorrent squishing sound every few steps from the excess water, and I would not get any nearer to it than I had to.
 
My misfortunes would soon be over, though. I finally saw the outline of a door in the distance. It filled me with this unknown vigor, causing me to take off sprinting as fast as I could.  The singeing smell of mildew and the insanity-inducing sound of the lights seemed to be drowned out. All my focus was on this distant door, my escape.
 
I ran and ran; my body screamed for me to stop, my muscles pleading for a break, but I refused to stop. I kept going towards the door. Surely, I would be there soon. The longer I kept running, the more I noticed the buzz of electricity, the more I smelled the putrescence in the carpet. I had been running for hours, and the door didn’t seem any closer. The bells also seemed to be getting louder again. I only looked back once, and the dancer was still there, prancing through the hall, waving its ribbons in nonsensical movements.
 
In the midst of my run, the lights went out; all of them. I couldn’t see anything nor could I hear. The electricity had gone silent and because I had stopped moving, the sloshing footsteps had also stopped. The jingling of the dancer seemed to halt in this moment as well. For the first time since I could remember I had a moment of peace. The fluorescents had hurt my eyes from their brightness, and my head from their noisiness. I was ever so grateful to finally have a moment of quietness. I sat on the carpet, which was only slightly damp in this section, and enjoyed this juncture of tranquility. 
 
Almost as suddenly as they turned off, the lights turned back on. With them, the buzz began again. I looked around and saw the dancer was no longer there. This meant I could take my time walking again. I could see the door was much closer now as well. It didn’t take long before I was there; the golden doorknob reflected the light into hundreds of colorful fractals. I ran the final stretch, reaching out as far as I could for the knob. As I tried to grab it, my hand fell through it. Caught off guard, by body tumbled forward, phasing through the door entirely. I looked back to see nothing but the stretching hallway I had already ventured. 
 
I had spent so long imagining what it would look like to see a door in this infernal hell my mind created one for me. I was thirsty; it had been creeping up on me for hours but now it was unbearable. I turned over onto my stomach and began to drink the water encased in the carpet.  Every fiber of my being rejected this water; the water that was responsible for the stench of grime, for the unbearable, squelching footsteps I had spent an eternity putting up with. I forced this liquid, not fit to be called water, down and instantly felt sick. My head spun and I embraced the darkness that brushed my cheek.
 
I regained consciousness once more, and the dancer returned, of course, as things seemed to do here. I lay back, listening to the ticking and chiming of its metronome. I allowed myself to be engulfed in its fabrics as they wrapped themselves around me. Within them, I saw myself countless times, walking down endless corridors, looking for an end. For something. I saw dancers and crawlers and creatures that scratch. I saw blue and yellow walls, all with the same rot. I saw infinite successes and failures, all done by me. Every “what-if”. I saw everything and nothing all at once.

About the Author 

Estelle Goostree embraces the weird side of literature that others may shy away from. Just like her stories, she slips through pockets of time within her busy schedule to write her newest story. She is a huge fan of testing just how supernatural she can make a story that has relatable, realistic elements. From endless hallways to legendary spirit women, Estelle loves it all.