Eternal Ruby Labyrinthine

        A vase breaks as it crashes to the floor. Petals shatter into fragmented monochrome. The pieces bleed red when glass touches my skin. I cover my ears. There's an aerial white noise surrounding this illusion I've been chosen to take part in.

        I step forward, trying to see where exactly I am and how I ended up in a secluded ordeal, but no one is here with me. I feel like I'm stuck inside a dark version of Picasso's canvas.

        Then a dark aura encases the room in fear. Bundled, colorless clouds clump. A silhouette appears, making my insides cringe. I try to identify who it is, but the poltergeist doesn't seem like anybody I've ever met.

        Eventually, the image stabilizes after a couple minutes and I can see its human features clearer.

        It's a boy for sure. He's dressed in black from head to toe, facing his back toward me. The distance between us feels almost worse than nausea. His crestfallen shadow screams for poison. Specifically, the fluid beneath sinners' hides.

        When the boy realizes I'm behind him, he freezes. He puts his arm out in front of him and makes a hand motion, as if he was trying to open a doorknob. Except there's no doors in this place. Otherwise, I would've gone home by now.

        A door forms, constructed out of his imagination. My mouth gapes.

        I finally get to see his face the moment he's halfway through the doorway. Anxious feelings engulf me, while sweat pours over the cracks of my human sheath. He reveals my weakest insecurities; set fire to inferior night terrors.

        The boy's face is completely white besides the faded, grey tone exposed on his cheekbones. He looks dead, yet somehow alive. I definitely wouldn't want to be friends with him if we were in the modern world. His four-holed, button irises leak vacant desolation.

        The worst aspect of him is his smile. I've never seen anything quite so miserable.

        His lips are swollen and stitched together. Violet bruises surround his upper chin area. It's frightening to witness remorse in all its gruesome glory, but I maintain my composure until he leaves.

        I can't even imagine the brutality he's been through.

        My mind goes blank just by processing pity and shock. He disappears within a split second. I felt the boy smash the beautiful parts of vitality for me. I knew from then on, I would never forget his face.

        I walk into the same door the boy did and assumed he would be there. I had to find out why he was here. The door leads me to a hallway draped in optical illusions. Once again, I am alone.

        There are thousands of doors, slowly drifting in patterns around the narrow strip.

        How am I supposed to pick a door to go through? Do I choose randomly?

        One door in particular stands out of the corner of my eye though. Moss grips its outer edges, seeping naturalistic vines onto wood from the inside. Maybe the door was a secret passage to Lewis Carroll's, Wonderland. Alice might be someplace in there. I imagine Alice welcoming me behind the door. My younger self would be so proud granted she does.

        It's a wild card choice, but I put three-fourths of my faith into it.

        The door opens to a twisted, fantastical realm. Nevertheless, it's a gigantic labyrinth. Bushes carve paths tainted green. It's all too much for my brain to handle. This scenario is built totally out of proportion. Venus fly traps tower beyond cornstalks. It’s no Wonderland. Unless, Lewis Caroll, has a long-lost cousin with terrible taste in story-world fabrication.