Game on

Menagerie

The first thing I saw was a mishmash of colours. Little motes of confetti against the darkness. Turquoise, scarlet, a sprinkle of violet. They lingered, hanging still, then softly floated down.

Then came the shrieking of a bird.
I gasped, my body going taut. A strange sensation surged through me, burning me awake. Fear. I recognised it distantly, like an old friend saying hello.
"I know you." I said the words to the semi darkness and fear didn't answer back. It didn't need to.

The beady eye of the bird met my own and I blinked, trying to understand what I was seeing.
The bird was part of the cascade of colours a moment ago: its wings were a lovely shade of red and its beak was edged in purple. A parrot, stuffed into a cage whose bars gleamed dully. The light was creeping in through a distant window. The bird glowered at me.

It knew fear too. The scruffy desperation of it made that same feeling rise again.

I was lying on a floor.

I lifted myself up and the bird threw itself to the corner of its cage, squawking. The rustling was unnerving. I took a deep breath and wondered who I was. There was nothing inside my head but the moment.

The meow of a cat made me jump and as I took in the dim edges of the room I saw more animals in cages. Cats, a dog, even a lonely mouse.
They looked ragged in their shadows. The bird moved once again, as if drawn to the light, and I turned towards it too. There was a window in the room, just past the cage holding the bird. I gazed out at a sky full of stars. 

Midnight blue and dotted, the stars lonely light outlined a landscape of city towers devoid of any life. I leaned towards the image. But there were no moving dots or bright lights. Just the pale glare of the sky.

"Where am I, little mouse?" The mouse just watched me with his ink drop eyes.

The bird glared again. My hand strayed towards the lock of its cage. It went still, anticipating its freedom.
But should I free it? I didn't even know where I was. Who I was. Perhaps this bird was dangerous. This menagerie was locked up for some reason.

"And I will be alone again," I said conversationally. The bird slumped.

"Do you remember what I'm doing here? Maybe if I talk enough someone will finally answer. I know things but I remember nothing. Do you know the capital of France? It's Paris. Is this Paris?"

The bird sighed. I didn't blame him. This didn't seem like Paris.

I moved towards the window, my small body appearing to be smooth and unlined. I was young, then. My eyes searched the buildings again. As they crept downwards, a piece of paper lay on a dusty table.

The Arena.

I picked it up and mouthed the words.
A destination, perhaps.

The bloody fingerprint on the edge of the paper acquainted me with fear's twin: exhilaration.

When I freed the bird he didn't leave immediately. He glanced fearfully at the open cage. His head tilted sideways and I mirrored the movement. But it was oddly natural. I didn't know myself but I knew that freedom was something wanted and feared.

"You can fly away, you know. Just one step and you're gone."

The bird met my eyes. And he promptly shot out of the cage to the mewling applause of all the other animals.

"You see? It's easy."

I freed the others too and they stretched and scuttled across the floor on uncertain limbs. I opened the door to the room, feeling no fear this time. I was not afraid of being free.

I walked barefoot along the corridor and smelled something sharp and sour. Antiseptic, my mind whispered to me. The walls were mint green and the hospital's beds lay strewn about. White ripped tissue paper lay undisturbed on them. Old drips of blood created paths leading me along.

The silence was only broken by the sound of flapping wings and the bird followed me at a distance.

I approached a board on the wall. It showed a map of the hospital.
I closed my eyes and for a second I could imagine the hospital busy; the tension on the faces of nurses, the moaning of the patients. The long pointed edges of needles. The hope, the despair, the battle waged in saving those in need.

I opened my eyes and read the board.
I was on the second floor.

There was the cafeteria, the ICU was to my right and the maternity ward on the floor below. But why was it so empty?

A rustling to my right made me jump. The bird let out a yelp.

I whirled around but it was only...white tissue paper drifting down from a hospital bed. Nowhere near me. It slid onto the floor, a pale sinuous snake. I took a step back.
Then another. It was as if the entire hospital was holding its breath. I didn't dare to speak.

I backed away towards the staircase that would lead me down. I watched the tissue paper on the floor as I moved. Fear had returned to taunt me.

But I was being ridiculous. I gripped the handle of the door to the stairs and began to pull it open. My logical mind knew things didn't move on their own. I knew enough to know that. The hospital corridor grew dimmer; the squeaking of the door was too loud. The bird was flying fast towards me, afraid of being left behind. I didn't know where the other animals had gone. As I succeeded in opening the door, as I was turning, I thought I saw the tissue paper move. A long threatening movement.

Slithering.

The shadows playing over its surface created a set of jagged fangs ready to pounce and I couldn't move, couldn't breathe, it was going to move, to bite-

The bird screamed and flew through the door. I jerked and ran after it, meeting the stairs with gasping breaths.

As I tumbled down the stairs, my odd young legs shaking and nearly buckling, I thought I heard a whisper of laughter, malicious and taunting.