Dark Alley

Chapter 1

     "Why am I here?" I said. The words were struggling to get out from my mouth, I feel dehydrated and dry everytime I find myself awake. That's the reason why sometimes I don't want to sleep.

     Four words. Those words I ask to myself every time I wake up, sometimes I use it as a phrase to just check myself if I'm still alive.

     I cry a lot inside the place they put me. I kept on wondering ftom the same question everytime and it is still remained unanswered. Why of all the people? They say I am the one chosen. I almost completely forgot about my year of existence, but I try to keep in touch with the basics, like my name, my year of existence. And the date of when I was sent here.

     So far as I can remember my name is Foster - just Foster, I forgot my last name because most of the guards here call me by my first name. I was born on the 25th day of November 1975. After I learned how to read and how to speak, I was sent here in this four cornered place with bright white walls. It stirs me crazy.

My experience from the vwry beggining of how I got here wasn't hard to remember, because they sent me here on my sixth birthday.

     Nobody talks a lot in this place, they mutter the same word over and over again, my name. But since I learned how to read and think, I thought of some things I want everyone to know, well if ever someone in here has the ability to talk:

A) I learned how to read on the 345th day. But unfortunately I am slowly forgetting my learnings because I practically don't use them.

B) Speaking of forgetting the things I learned. The momen that needle from the injection stuck on me, I've suddenly had these flashbacks of this hot round bright thing that sticks around the sky and suddenly retires during tthe half of the day, I learned a lot about it, about its positive and negative effects in our body.But it had another effect on me, it somehow gives me this energetic feeling.

C) Lastly, I have never told anyone in here how afraid I am. I am afraid that I might not be able to feel scared anymore. The wall seemed to keep me safe from the outside world. I've had friends before, but I was unsure if their laughs were real. I even forgot how to laugh. I also wonder how my friends look like already.

     I remember a story before, I barely remember the title but the plot lingers on my mind. It's about a girl who has this really long hair and she was locked in a tower. She was like me, but close. She was even fortunate than I am, she gets to paint, and she has a happy ending when she got out of the tower. But every time I try to foresee my future - my vision for a happy ending is blurry, uncertain - like I don't see myself having one.

     Why didn't they just kill me?

     I breathed hard. I was sitting on the ground, position unchanged, my face on the ceiling as I bite the uneven nail of my thumb. I hear a screach on the walls, I hear it when someone is coming. I quickly stole a glance at the person holding a bowl of soup while I study his features, this time his eyes were blue- last time was grey, his features are new to me. Maybe he's new.

     "Good morning Foster," he said. His body was covered in white except for his eyes. For the first time I saw an irregular shape of a body, his chest was round on both sides. Out of curiosity my eyes were focused on his chest.

     Good Morning Foster. I used to count how many times they told me that. I tells me how many days I've been staying here already. Until I got tired. I got tired on the 774th good morning.

     I found him covering that round thing on his chest with the tray he is carrying. My eyes were on his eyes now. They were blue and genuine.

     "Breakfast is here." I heard him. There was something on his voice, it was as high as I remembered how birds sounded when they chirp. He was fidgeting, like he really doesn't know what he was doing. I didn't say a word. I don't even know what to say.

     I didn't move. He passes me the tray by pushing on me through the ground like I was a hungry pig waiting to be fed. I wasn't really hungry, no not at all. I assume that I have been suffering from anorexia since the 450th day. I stared on my food. For my years of my stay in here I never tasted anything other than soup. I don't even know what's in it that's why I don't eat it that's why I just let them take it to maybe serve it on me for the next day.

     I observe his blue eyes. I've never seen such gigantic as round and bright eyes before. He too responses my stare by studying my face too. I wonder how my face looks like.

     "What date is today?" I asked - looking back at the ceiling this time. I've asked the question to every person who serves me the food. I never get a response from any of them that's why I stopped asking on the 204th day - but this time I tried. I tried thinking I can out think new people.

     He blinked his eyes. I hope I could stare at them everyday. I hope I have blue eyes too. Of if ever I have one, I wish to look at ot forever. I hope he doesn't have to blink so that I can look at it forever.

     "It's 24-11-95 mister," he replied. I was expecting for words but then what I got from him were numbers. Is he messing up with me?

     I thanked him anyways. As what I have learned in having polite conversation I was expecting that he would say you're welcome but instead his eyes widened while his left hand covers his mouth.

     I am afraid he disappeared. I can hear his loud scream somewhere. I knew it was his, because it matched the pitch of a bird. For my entire life sitting in a place with four corners I have never heard loud sounds. Screams. Unless mine. I wonder why he screamed or why he screams like a bird. Well that was one wild sound he produces.