Anonymous

Chapter 1

He jolted upward, his eyes snapping wide open. Glancing around, he saw the source of his quite rude awakening; a large chunk of plaster had landed near where he had just laid. The alarming sight caused him to stare up at the ceiling, half expecting another rock to drop. After gawking at the roof for what seemed like an hour, he finally snapped back to reality.

Panic seized his, rather short, being, and he shot up onto his feet.

The ceiling must be collapsing! He thought as he glanced around, alarmed. Quickly noticing what seemed to be a small dog door, he sprinted towards the blank, white wall. He identified the damp, musty scent of the small place as he ran.

The room was verging on pitch black, but there was just enough light to see that the square shaped door was exactly three by three feet wide. He could fit, but just barely.

He carefully scanned the area by the small door, searching for a way to break out of the room. As he was scanning, a slight glimmer of silver caught his attention. He grasped the small, silver door handle and wrenched it open, pulling the door out of its previous resting place. Dust spilled out from the gaping doorway, filling the, practically pitch black, room with a dusty haze.

Immediately, he was met with an extraordinarily bright light, and a wave of blistering heat smacked his face. He leaned back almost instinctively, his hand shielding his eyes from the blinding light. The light filled the place, illuminating the dusty fog, and revealing the blank, white walls. A scorching heat spread throughout the room, and sweat dripped down his face.

Continuing to hold his hand up, he crawled slowly to the door, barely squeezing through. He exited the room and was greeted by another rush of sweltering heat. Lowering his hand, he noticed the complete lack of people wandering around on the pavement and the lack of vehicles speeding down the highway.

He yelped as he realized his arm had been on the scorching pavement the whole time, as he gazed at the abandoned city around him. He quickly lifted his arm off the scorching asphalt, and slowly rose to his feet, his knees shaking and swaying. Beads of sweat rolled down his skin as he glanced around the small, dusty city. He peered at a tall, wobbly building across the street, and used his remaining energy to focus on reaching the building, his vision blurry from the sweat. The hot, dry air slowed him, as he stepped forward, trembling. Each step he took was exhausting, and the sun beating down on his skin became unbearable. He felt nauseous, his vision twirled and spun, he had to make it across the street.

He stumbled into the street, his feet seeming to lead him toward an unknown destination. Swaying from the desert heat and his stuffy attire, he barely made it the brick wall before he collapsed, catching himself just in time. Spotting a shiny glass door masked in paper from the inside, he instantly crawled toward it, the door clicked open easily.

Slowly, he wobbles upward, glancing at the walls. He identified many bullet holes etched into them, thin grey smoke rising from the cracks, and a clear water-like liquid was splattered by them.

A sudden dizziness hit him like a tidal wave, his vision spiraled and blurred, he could barely make out a male figure striding towards him, from a long and twisting stairway. He wore notably vibrant colors.

"Hey! There's a guy passing out in the lobby!" the man yelled loudly. The man had a slight Irish accent, he noted.

"Shut up, Conor!" a haughty male voice called back from above.

"Sure," one female voice exclaimed sarcastically, "like we'd believe you, Conor."

His vision began to fade, and sound gradually disappeared as he crumpled to the floor, unconscious.