Poison Images (Chapter 2)

Down with the “flu”

As always, the toilet floor was covered in liquid. No prizes for guessing what. I assumed, though, that it was beer as the place smelt ok. It was empty. There was an “L” shape of stalls along one and a half walls, the other half taken up by cubicles. I noted that the place was empty, devoid of people. Across from the cubicles were the washbasins, and a very clean mirror above them. To the left of this was the obligatory condom machine, left of that was the door.

I went into the cubicle at the end. It was going to be my bomb shelter for the next few minutes. And that’s about the same time I stopped being sure about anything. It’s where my story should end, I leave the bar and go home. Happy ever after, but to be honest, when did anyone ever actually live happily ever after?

I waited, and waited. No one came in. All I heard was the gurgling of water in the stalls. A minute passed, still nothing. The music was still going, I could hear shouts, and maybe they were taking him out. I decided it was safe to come out.

As I unlocked and opened the door I was aware of a great change. I can’t say more than that, except that it felt like when a lift stops at a floor and there’s that funny feeling in your stomach. It wasn’t at my stomach though, it was all over my entire body. It lasted a few seconds, and I thought I was going to fall, the world seemed weird.

`Oh fuck,’ I thought `someone drugged me’

A second later though, everything seemed alright, my head cleared. I almost dismissed it as nerves.

That was, until I turned and saw the door. Not the one I came in by, the one that had appeared in the wall where the stalls were a minute ago. It was wooden, with a metal handle. About two thirds of the way up, there was a window in the door. It was a circle. It looked like it had been bent into the shape of a cross, not a crucifix, one of those fancy “plus” symbols from maths, whilst still retaining its roundness.

I felt wondrous that this door could be here, and finally accepted that someone must have put something in my drink, but they couldn’t have because I carried it with me throughout, besides which there was hardly any place to actually put your drink down in that bar.

The wonder wasn’t that this door was here, neatly stuffed in the space where two stalls were a moment ago. The wonder was that it had got there, so neatly, without making the slightest bit of noise. No click, no bang and certainly no spilt water.

I moved towards the door. I sensed that there was something behind it, even though the window, and I knew it was a window, showed nothing, just blackness. I put my hand forward, to touch the door. My hand touched cool, smooth wood. No cold ceramic tiles, no stall. The door was real.

I pulled my hand away from it. Now that I knew that this was real, I had two choices. I could go through it, or I could leave and get my friends. It was apparent something strange was happening to me. What was happening?

It was becoming harder and harder to think. I remember thinking this was like the momentary amnesia I got when people quite ask what I did a few days ago. I decided I was better safe than sorry. I turned to the other door, the one that would take me back to the bar.

The handle wouldn’t move though, it was stuck, locked or something. I pulled harder, and harder. I pulled so hard I thought I would rip the door from its fixtures, but it didn’t even shake. I put my head to the ground and try to look through the quarter inch gap at the bottom of the door. There was no chance; I could see nothing, not even light. I couldn’t hear anything from out there now. It was as if they’d forgotten about me, closed up and all gone home.

Then I decided to check on my phone, I knew it was with me, but as I patted all my pockets, I found it wasn’t. I went back and checked the cubicle. It was there, where was it? I searched the entire toilet, but it couldn’t be found.

It was then that I started to think, maybe I was just disoriented. Maybe I had come in through the other door and got confused. Doors don’t just appear in walls. At least I had had this thought before trying to scream for help and making a fool of myself.

I turned back to the other door. Trying to remember which door it was really. All I could think was `My god how much did I drink?”

Then I lost patience, I was being silly now. My mates would be worried. I should be glad there was no one in here with me to witness my strange behaviour. It was time to step back into normality. I grabbed the handle and pulled, it opened easily.

I was disappointed to find blackness beyond. The light and a little water from the floor spilled out onto what seemed a very dark grey carpet. I stepped forward, wondering if this was some kind of joke. It was unlikely. I was now as far as I could go without letting the door shut, and I didn’t want to, then it would be completely dark. I tried to feel something in the darkness, a wall would be good, and one with a light switch would be excellent. I stuck out my arm, feeling away, nothing. I tried the same with my other leg, almost losing my balance, and my grip on the door.

Then I fell forward, and the door quickly closed. I had fallen onto something. It was heavy, but padded; perhaps a very solid chair. I didn’t see it, but saw the light on the carpet fade, to black. I was left in darkness, and that was that.