Kingdom

The door shuts behind me with a soft rush of air.

I’m having difficulty keeping my breath under control and my heart hammers against my ribs. Everything is familiar, but at the same time everything is unknown.

I feel as if I have entered a decompression chamber, sealed off from the outside world, a perfect vacuum housing its own solitary universe; a womb-like temperature that keeps the occupants content, along with the pills they consume with their insipid lunch. Odours of cleaning-polish, urine and a faint whiff of boiled cooking cabbage hang in the air like steam from a dirty kettle.

I step into the sterile, muted hallway and my footsteps echo dully on the rubber floor. Above me the sound of a fluorescent strip light buzzes comfortably, while a distant squeak of wheels and a door clanging shuts signalizing human activity somewhere down in the placid depths of the building.

I start to walk, trailing my fingers against the recently painted walls. They have used cheap whitewash instead of gloss and the resulting slightly gritty sensation feels as if I am dragging my nails across a blackboard. Resignedly, I let the corridor guide me to the room precisely three doors on the left. The palms of my hands are sticky and my fingers twitch. When I touch the door I notice it is already open. This, in my experience, is quite unusual.

I walk in, and immediately my feet sink into the thick pile carpet, as if I have started to wade across sand. I have to resist the momentary urge to take my shoes and socks off and paddle in the glorious warm shallows like a child. Instead, as adults must, I stand for a moment, taking in my surroundings, the comfortable room with the smell of dust rising faintly from its thick wooden furniture and the sagging, expectant shelves of books.

Driscoll house

With some difficulty, Ishmail made out the lettering on the side of the huge building through the bouncing rain. The cab driver mutely tap the meter and Ishmail fumbled through his pockets to get rid of the loose change. Reluctantly he left the warmth of the cab, pulling the coat over his head and dragging his rucksack with him. The enormous bulk of the hotel reared over his head like a warning, raindrops pelting from a leaden sky. As he mounted the steps, he saw a small metal sign on the left.



Headquarters of the International Language Club



That sounds fun, though Ishmail, miserably.

He faced great difficulty trying to open the black wooden door, considering he was also trying to push instead pull as the metal in the door indicates.

Mistery

He is running. The main plan is to not stop running at least until he reaches the sands of Big Bay.
He looks behind him and he sees none. He carries on, step after step, keeping the rhythm, cutting fast through leaves that were so broad that could hold the water better then his two palm put together. He keeps running. So fast that he hurts his arms on bits of trees, and doesn’t even notice, he doesn’t even care. He is concentrating where he should put his next foot to not have it trap between rocks. The jungle is getting thick, and he is getting tired. The salty sweat start’s now to smoulder his eyes. He barely can see the way ahead. Still he carries on…
Suddenly he stops, resting his hands in both knees, and for a moment he finds himself shaking his head side to side like a thirsty dog trying to suck all air around him. Despair. He knows he needs to keep going. Just one more step, he keep repeating to himself, trying to sound believable enough to not give up.
He turn his head back, he definitely can see none, so he try to concentrate, again. it’s impossible to keep up, still he need to carry on, the dryness in his mouth is making his tongue swallow and rough, so he tries to remember the words of his dad “Every step that you take forwards you’ll get you further away from the problem and more close to the solution”. He looked at the sky; just to be sure he still had enough time…before the day breaks. One more step, and the problems will be left behind… “Co’ mom!”
Finally he reaches the Big Bay, the sand is cold, and the ocean is now so far out, that he could barely distinguish between sea or sand, he start to walk towards the vast blackness in front of him. ….. He waits before throwing himself into the cold water. The only think he can hear is the unremitting sound of the waves breaking into the shore. Slowly he swims away, and the black silhouette of the island start to get smaller till finally disappear into the darkness… silently the nothingness finally embraces him.