𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚕𝚎𝚢 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 [𝙽𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚡 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚕𝚎𝚢]

8-Stanley

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THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END

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Stanley woke up alone (Where was The Narrator?) in a dark room, feeling a mattress under him and sheets covering him (Where was he?). Had it all been a dream (It couldn't have been; his body felt just as consistently in pain as it had before.)? Parallel to the bed he was on, there was a window, from which Stanley could see the sun beginning to rise.

Cautiously, he removed the blankets and sat up. He was wearing the same thing he had been before they left; save for his shoes which he could make out the outline of on the floor.

He threw his legs over the side of the bed. Putting his foot down to the ground, he winced in pain. He'd forgotten how much it hurt to walk right after waking up. Diagonally from the bed, there was a door slightly ajar. Odds were, there'd be a light switch next to it. Taking slow and steady steps, he advanced towards the door, avoiding any clutter strewn about the room.

He flicked on the lights and looked around the room. The room itself was rather bare. There was a simple bed with navy blue bed sheets, a wooden nightstand next to it, and an alarm clock with red glowing text that read 5:34 am on top of it. On the wall next to the door, there was a large wardrobe in the same wood color as the nightstand.

Stepping outside the room led to a short hallway, one door across the way, and a moderately sized living room at the end of the hallway. From the layout, it seemed that this was an apartment; though it was different from the one in the parable.

He walked over to the coffee table in the middle of the living room. There were a couple of books strewn about; some about cooking, some about psychology, but there were two that were of the most interest to him. They seemed to be part of a series, their coloring and cover layouts being the same. He was just about to go investigate when there was a loud knock on the front door.

He looked over at the door, seeing a small pile of mail being added to via a mail slot in the door. Next to the door was a small table with a drawer, similar to the one in his room, which had a pad of yellow lined paper and a pen on it.

About 20 envelopes were sitting on the ground, Stanley assumed they'd be bills and such (did he have money to pay bills with?). He walked to the door and picked up the many letters. He set them on the kitchen table to start going through. Hopefully, this would be a good way to figure out what his life was like. Was it even his if he didn't remember it? What if he didn't want it?

As expected, about half of the letters had been bills. Rent, taxes, bills; the usual things. There were also a handful of letters from his supposed office job; which helpfully had the return address in the corner which would be helpful when going back to work. He had to pay those bills somehow, didn't he?

Opening a few of the letters from his work brought very little further help, other than an office worker retired and they'd had a little party together. Some of the letters had been his paychecks, though it was oddly enough in cash. Was that even legal in modern times?

After getting bored of looking through his mail, Stanley walked over to the kitchen area of the apartment. On the marble countertop sat a leather wallet, a smartphone, and a pair of car keys. Great; more chances to learn about himself.

Opening the wallet, Stanley saw an ID that read the name Stanley Gardener, with a picture of himself with much shorter hair and a clean-shaven face. Thinking back; his hair had been this short when he first arrived in the parable. It had grown, apparently, but at a much slower pace considering... that ending. He'd probably have to get a haircut.

Also in the wallet had been a couple of credit and debit cards, as well as maybe 50 dollars in assorted bills. Attempting to turn on the phone turned out to be a fruitless endeavor, the screen only showing its battery was dead. He supposed he'd have to find a charger for that.

Attached to the fridge using magnets there was a calendar. The last day crossed off on it was September 29th. While he had no clue what day this was, it was sometime after that.

Stanley looked through the kitchen, not sure if he was glad to find nothing at all. He wasn't sure how long he was gone, and anything there may very well have horribly spoiled; but it did also mean he'd have to go out to the store on one of his first days back.

God, he was not excited about that. He couldn't speak, he didn't know anyone, and he hardly knew where he was. He grabbed the phone from off the counter and walked back to the room he woke up in. If he were the one living here (and he was), he'd keep a charger by the bed to charge his phone overnight.

Going through the doorframe and feeling the ashy brown carpet under his feet, he walked over to the nightstand. The alarm clock on it now read 6:58. He opened the drawer; which contained a bottle of ibuprofen, a pad of sticky notes, and- Aha! A charger! It was a long grey wire, with a bright pink brick at the end to plug into the wall.

To find an outlet, Stanley followed the cord from the alarm clock to its other end. Plugging the adapter into the wall and the charger into the phone, its screen lit up. Turning on, it showed the time in big white font, with the date in smaller text: October 16th.

Stanley wasn't sure how to feel about learning the date. On one hand, wow he'd been gone for two weeks. But on the other hand, BILLIONS OF YEARS BOILED DOWN TO TWO MEASELY WEEKS?!?

He looked at the background of the phone. It contained a picture of him and three others, seemingly at some kind of fall event, judging from the colored leaves and pumpkins as well as the warmer apparel they had on.

He wished he could say that the picture brought back his memories of who he had been before.

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THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END

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