Jack in The Box

A man wakes up in a red room, there is a body in the corner, one that seems vaguely familiar. This is just a quick short story just to practice writing with symbolism using a character I already had created and just so I have something up on the site, let me know what you think.

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1. Red Room

The world slowly began to come into focus around him, a deep red blur at first, one that matched the intensity of the pain in his eyes. With a few more blinks the soreness of his bloodshot retinas began to fade and he became fully concious of his surroundings. A red room, red as can be, two doors at either end the same colour, small and claustrophobic but enough space that you could still comfortably stretch your arms out in without hitting a wall.

 

A dizzying feeling swirled Drake around it's colourful walls, the room danced before his eyes until he felt sick to his stomach. He was lying down but the gagging feeling made him lurch forward into a seating position, he could feel the vomit building but managed to hold it back. He felt his  body in order to gain his bearings, his chin was covered in a dirty ragged stubble of hair and he could feel the weight of the bags under his eyes pulling him down, begging him to slip back into unconciousness. He felt his sore stomach and his hand came into contact with a tattered jumper. A jumper? He didn't remember ever having worn a jumper, where had this come from. In his curiosity he had neglected to notice that his head felt bizarrely bare, upon realising this he rubbed his fingers through where hair should have been but to his horror found nothing but minor lumps of stubble on an otherwise clean shaven head.

 

"What the f**k is going on?" he thought aloud.

 

As he pressed his hands to the floor a warm wet sensation tingled over his palms. Looking down he could barely see amongst the red of the walls but sure enough there was something there. Fearing the worst he raised both his hands only to find to his horror they were covered in blood. His heart became heavy in his chest, a quite sunken boom was the only sound in that resonated and echoed through the empty walls. Slowly turning his head he followed the trail of red liquid, although disguised within the enviroment he soon found it's source...it was only then he noticed the smell.

 

A woman in a blue dress lay face down against the shiny red surface, she was bleeding heavily but from where Drake couldnt make out. It didn't matter though as any resolve he had had in holding down his previous sick was all but redundant now. Lurching away from the grizzly site Drak through himself into the corner. Falling to his knees he vomited violently, his sick a stark contrast to the deep red floor. Drake felt rotten, like he was hungover and woke up face down in a ditch, only this wasn't a ditch, a ditch would have been a considerably nicer place to awaken, although he didn't know where exactly he was every impulse in his body told him he was in hell.

 

Although he had no idea what had happened he knew he wanted to get out, he felt guilty for leaving the woman, especially since after a second look he was almost sure he'd known here once, like as if she had been a passer-by in the street. In fact everything seemed familiar, the blonde hair, the blue dress, her slim figure. Everything was so vaguely commonplace.  Stronger still than his guilt at leaving her behind however was his resolve to escape, he had no idea who had done that to her and wasn't keen to find out. Without another moments notice he bolted for the door, praying that it would be unlocked, and sure enough it was. Drake breathed a sigh of relief but realise he had perhaps done so too soon as after exiting through the door he appeared in the exact same room...dead girl and all.

 

"Oh....shit shit shit shit...". A sweeping panic coarsed through his veins, in desperation he bolted back through the previous door and tried the one that had stood opposite he had noticed when he first woke up. There was no success.

 

"Shit!" the panic grew worse and without making a concious decision to do so Drake let it lead his entire body through door after door after door. He tried for what felt like forever but to no avail. No matter where he went he ended up in the same room though he could swear that with every move he made the dead woman in the corner seemed to watch him. Her dead gaze pierced into his very soul sending shivers down his spine, even more disturbing was he was certain the girl lay face down before, the from any angle her eyes could not meet his...if that had been the case then something was very wrong as she was now looking at him straight in the eye, a cold, dead stare. He paused to meet it, assuring himself he was going insane, surely he was just letting the claustrophobia get him...and then...she blinked.

 

Screaming Drake ran once more without thinkingto the nearest door but this time upon throwing it open he screamed, as where had once been a never-ending chasm of red room instead stood a figure. A tall figure loomed in the doorway, black tape lay across his mouth and two black crosses covered his eyes. He held a black baseball bat raised up to his shoulder and stood in a suit and shoes that strangely contrasted his ripped and tattered jeans decorated with countless pins. There was a long pause, Drake was paralysed with fear when after what felt like a lifetime the finger pointed his bat to the dead body. and without moving his mouth he somehow spoke...almost in an omnipotent echo;

 

"Remember her?"  he said.

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