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Saturday, October 27, 2007

The Brownstone (fictional story) page 3 of 5

The guy said “it’s the house trying to keep you out of that doorway you keep wanting to look into because it knows the servants have not readied it for you” which answered part of the question but not all of it. When asked about why it was leading to the abyss he simply said “anyway to keep you from looking” at the same time I realized I was going to go nowhere with the line of questioning I decided to check out a theory that I was developing and started just glancing at the pictures and oil paintings while picking up my pace towards the abyss.

The guy asked me “what is going on, do you really want to be by that hole?” but would not tell me why he was asking and was getting fearful of what I was doing. As I got closer to the abyss the further the guy got from me because he feared the abyss but still would not tell me why he was so fearful of it. As I glanced at the pictures while working my way over to the abyss I noticed that this stranger of a guy was actually in some of the pictures with my family and it looked like he was a caretaker of some sort in them. After I got to with in a few feet of the abyss the guy was talking more to himself than to me because all he could do was mumble about something, something he didn’t want me to hear.

What he was mumbling was barely audible to me and even though he was mumbling to himself what he was saying was somewhat disturbing, he was talking as if he was questioning why I was heading to the abyss while at the same time questioning the house as to why it was letting me walk up to the abyss but not let me see what was in the next room. With in a few minutes he was frightened by the fact that I was so close to the edge of the abyss, saying he did his best to stop me from going where I wasn’t wanted which sounded like he was telling this to the house.

Then he said that he didn’t want me to find out what was in the abyss because it would mean it would he would have to leave the house his master to bring me back. He was genuinely afraid of me being there at the edge of the abyss and by the time I was trying to look down into the abyss he was curled up in a ball rocking back and forth mumbling out loud but to himself that he didn’t want to go and that it wasn’t right that the house let me look because he didn’t want me to see what was in the abyss. He didn’t want me to be able to see that it was the way out of the house, a way home, and a way to the home I knew, the home I actually remembered and not this place that seemed so foreign to me.

When I tried to turn and walk over to him I turned into what felt like a brick wall for which I bounced off of right into the abyss, and as I fell backwards into the abyss time seemed to move real slow and seen the guy get up and try to rush over to the abyss to catch me but he was moving just as slowly as the time was. The last thing I seen before all went black from the abyss was the guy being hit with an invisible force that sent him flying, flying right for the darkened doorway that the house was trying to keep me from peering into. With that all went black and it felt like I was falling into nothingness and then there was nothing almost like the state between dreaming and being awake.

The next thing I remember I was woken up by my alarm clock which was odd since I didn’t remember ever going home let alone setting my alarm clock and going to bed. When I tried to remember what had happened the day before that would have me black out like that all I could remember was sitting on the front steps of the old abandoned brownstone with some friends. When I got up and got dressed, things were as I remembered them but yet they were somehow different almost as if there were subtle changes to the details that I could not put my finger on.

As I went through my normal weekend routine I noticed more subtle changes in different places but the biggest differences were in recognizing certain people I knew almost like it was the first time I ever seen them. I had gotten the surprise of my life when I walked up to my favorite hang out which was the front steps of the old abandoned brownstone, instead of the brownstone looking like it was long since abandoned it looked brand new and a few people were there that I recognized as people I somehow knew but I didn’t know why. They were people I recognized from what seemed like a dream from the night before, a dream for which I seen them as friends all except for one.

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