The Imaginary

Chapter 4: Wrong Ceilings Make Oblivion a Better World Part 2

THE IMAGINARY

CHAPTER FOUR: WRONG CEILINGS MAKE OBLIVION A BETTER WORLD

PART 2

I was back in the dark world. It was a huge maze, almost invisible. Deep within were eclipses of light, which seemed screaming. They gave the dark adventure feel. Pretty optimistic of me. I dealt with bad situations well.

We had outlines on the floor, square, jet-black. They were well-polished, shining tiles. Like, probably, marble. The ceiling was abnormal. It could be a floor. On it, jutting out, were towers. Tons of them. Their architects had no taste. They were plain and dull. But they did have this mystery factor: at one side, they looked like skyscrapers, and at another, bookshelves.

They could fall anytime, and flatten me. I soon neglected the thought. Each of their alleys led to a door, same quality as the tiles, but breathing. I was walking here, with no aim.

Sessions time. The world zoomed outwards. I didn’t feel the usual dissolve. But this was more painful. The magnetic force, so powerful, drew me in, like soul extraction. Once the image had soared the farthest, I realized I was back in reality. I had unconsciously closed Julia Skyshell’s diary. It was an unhealthy thing. I had instant headache, jet lag.

"Nothing."

I saw a duplicate of their figures overlap. Mr. Clark was here, right by the desk. Silver was floating reversely, and Madame was roaming around.

"Nothing is Oblivion," said Mr. Clark. "It’s an evoked world, a Reverse created by the Phantom."

"Evoked worlds?" Okay, now we’re dealing with false worlds. Great. "Sir?"

"Normally, it’s the world you see, when you enter the diary’s thoughts. I hear those who can see have other benefits."

"What kind, Mr. Clark?"

"I’ve tried going once," said Madame Graham. "It frightened me, made me feel human again. Truly rotten, I tell you, boy. Those squares and rectangles, and those breathes. They frighten me. I don’t care! I’m not going back to those worlds again."

"Which are what, exactly, Madame?" Mr. Clark’s gaze was unfriendly. It gave Madame the chills. Pretty cold for a spirit. They were hiding something. It could be this "worlds" talk.

"Oh, my apologies, Clarky-boy. I’ve said too much." The stare went on. She covered her mouth. "Oops. Too much, yes."

"What about the doors? Where do they lead to?"

All circles--I mean, eyes, were now on me. They were stricken with confusion. Mr. Clark’s pair was the first one to avert.

"There are no doors in Oblivion, Mr. Blackwood." This had a superior tone to it. He nearly laughed.

"But I saw doors. They were hanging. With the rectangles, up there on the ceiling."

"The ceiling? Wild. Very wild indeed. Your imagination."

"It’s not." But, yes, in a sense, it was. "They’re real."

"Mr. Blackwood, tell me, what is the most common thing you can see in a normal ceiling?"

"The light, Sir." It took a while before I answered it. I was mildly confused, at the start.

"Do you see that light? In that ceiling?"

"Yes, Sir. A bunch. Only eclipses."

"That is real. Do you agree?"

"Yes."