"Hello Avery, where are you?"
That's a strange question. Aren't you here too? Where are you.
The blue eyed women with an ugly blue shirt on, giggled, apparently I had spoken aloud; she decided to reply " I know where I am, I just want to know if you remember where you are. Or if you remember anything at all. I'm Clarissa, you can call me Claw. We've met several times actually. Each time was just like the last, you don't remember me or where you are."
I began to look around, and see where I was. My left hand was restrained and buckled to the bed I was laying in, when I turned to see my right hand I felt a sharp pain in my neck. I reached my right arm up, in attempt to soothe the pain. I was surprised when my arm moved freely, realizing that arm was free. Not taking too much time wondering why only one hand was restrained, I tried to massage the pain in my neck. Instead of my slender fingers, I felt an unusual roughness. My hand was bound in some sort of red fabric, I began ripping it off with my teeth. The whole time "Claw" was staring at me; earlier she was taking notes in a book, now she was just silently watching and I could see tear streaks on her cheeks. I looked back down at my hand and my eyes rolled back. Right before my vision went black, I saw her reaching for me and felt her catch me before I fell off the edge of the bed. I heard her calling my name, but it was too late. I was gone.
"Avery! Avery, if you don't get your ass up. Avery!"
My roommate's harsh tone brought me from out of my dream. I was forever regretting asking her to wake me up in the mornings, but she was always up 30 minutes before me. So her job was to yell profanity at me and wake me from my beauty sleep. Usually I'd be grumpy, I love my rest dearly and don't take kindly to our depart, but I was glad that dream was over. I went on with my day as normal; going from one lecture hall to the next, feeding my dog, and then hanging out with my best friend Netflix. Halfway through the third season of Friends, my dog Perry had to use the bathroom. Sometimes I wish he was like Perry the platypus from the tv show Phineas and Ferb, that's who he's named after anyway. Perry the platypus goes off to do his business alone, without disturbing anyone and is always back on time. My small black wiener dog is nothing like that, he barks, chirps, and squeals when he needs to go. Then he doesn't shut up until he's finished. That night I decided to walk a new route, past the old high school. I'd been living 3 blocks from it since I started my second year in grad school 3 months ago. It's said to be haunted by the old janitor or lunch lady or something. The Lit majors have very big imaginations. The school looks like any other small private school; rich, private, clean, and boring. It was engulfed by big, stocky trees that had been bare of leaves for years. I guess they'ed been hollowed out by some animal. The old playground was just as it use to be, and the swings made this piercing shriek when they swung.
All. Through. The. Night.
There was a sign at the end of the road, vines swallowed the letters whole. It all looked kind of creepy beautiful, like sleeping beauty meets the brothers grimm. The whole place was looked unreal and very out of place, in the middle of suburban housing. It was unusually clean for a school that had been abandoned for over 13 years, Perry decided to take a closer look. When we got close to the east wing door, I heard a noise. It sounded like nails were scratching and clawing at the hinges. I stepped closer to get a clearer sound and I heard a what seemed like a muffled scream. Perry flinched and whimpered, he began to tug on his leash. I scolded him, "it was your smart idea to come down here anyway, remember. Don't get scared now. It was probably old pipes anyway." I nervously laughed and began to back away just as I heard a girl's voice.
"help"
It wasn't loud, it wasn't rushed, it wasn't terrifying. But it was clear. I ran to the door, letting go of Perry's leash. I flung it open and brought a rush of wind inside. Blackness, pure blackness. Thick like burnt oil. Just as the door slowly began to close, a foot pushed out and cracked it open. Suddenly I heard footsteps, coming from everywhere. Fast. I felt people rushing, almost flying past me towards the door. They were screaming, but happily like a church praise team. I smiled, knowing that somehow, I had done something right.
I had stood in my pride for a little too long, I turned around to only blackness. The crack of light was gone and the wind of bodies had halted. I walked towards where I thought the door was, and felt along the wall for a knob. By the time I found it, I had begun to hyperventilate. I tugged and screamed, knowing that it wasn't going to open. All those other people would've gotten out far before I had gotten there or wouldn't of been calling for help if the door was unlocked. I found myself clinging to the door crying for help for what seemed like hours. Until something called back.
