Chapter 2

I turned the handle slowly until I heard the door click and open, pushing my way inside. I shut the door behind me, and my eyes were closed so I wouldn’t have to immediately face what was coming. When I did open them, I was shocked. There was absolutely nothing in that room. You couldn’t even call it a room!
It was a playground. My old elementary playground sat right in front of me, but I knew that it had been torn down years ago. This didn’t make any sense! Still, I was overjoyed and ran to the swings where I’d always played. After situating myself in the first swing I saw, I took off with the tops of my feet digging into the gravel and started to swing back and forth. It was fun for a while, and I swung higher and higher.
Soon, I was starting to worry because I wasn’t coming back down as fast as I was. Even scarier it became when the doctor was about a football field’s length away. I wasn’t worried at the moment, because everything was moving in slow motion. Even the swing was having trouble getting back down to its natural state of stillness. I made for a jump, leaping out of my swing, and nearly screamed when I felt the thickness of the air in front of me. It was light the air, the atmosphere was turning into thick paint. I couldn’t get down, but that meant he couldn’t reach me either. Still, this free-floating crap was freaking me out. I flailed a little, and my body was seemingly in real-time still, with everything else moving slowly around me.
The doctor was starting to freak out too, by the looks of it, because he had a bewildered look on his face and I could hear a deep, slow, “Help” coming from his mouth. It was hilarious watching him try to talk, because his mouth kept gyrating so slow the words were coming out warped. It was like watching an Asian subtitled movie. His slow motion steps were inching closer by every five-minute mark, and every time I thought he was going to get close enough to catch me I would inch down to the ground. About what seemed like an eternity later, the speed of time started to pick up a little. That scared me even more, because now he could get closer faster. I was panicking again, and my breathing was so fast I was having trouble not hyperventilating. Finally, my feet hit the gravel and I literally “hit the ground running.” I sprinted through the playground and reached what looked like an old schoolhouse, the little red brick kind.
It was cute, but the cuteness did not register until after I shut and locked its door behind me. I heard squeaking, and my mind conjured the thought of rats skittering across the floor. I shrieked when a big, red eyed rodent peeked out from a gnawed hole in the wall and clambered on top of a desk.
“Hey! Do you think that’s some kind of a sick joke?” The rat squeaked at me in irritation, making me stare at it mouth agape.
“Y-You’re kidding right?” I managed to squeak myself, although it was a deeper toned squeak than that of the rat. Here I was, thinking I’d seen everything in this sick little world. Boy, I was wrong.
The only thing worse than a rat was a talking one.
“Of course I can talk! I’m not a rat, either, so you can quit your whining!” It squeaked again, and just as it said that the form started to change. What now, I thought for a second then it was my turn to squeak again. In front of me stood a very tall man. He was a human man, just to be clear.
“Oh come on, what are you staring at now?” He said, rubbing a hand over his head and pulling back his waist length hair. “You scared of your own kind or something?”
“You are so not my own kind. You were a rat,” I spat back at him.
“I’m a Shifter. You’ve never seen a Shifter?” He mused in a bored tone, his voice deepening a bit more than usual.
“Uh, no. I’ve never even been here before.”
“Ah. So you’re the new guy, huh? Welcome to the First Door. You just had your wits scared out of you by a rat? Trust me, there’s worse to come.”
No kidding, I thought, remembering the crazy doctor was still after me. That made me shriek again.
“Jeez, what now?” He groaned, plugging his ears.
“I just remembered we aren’t the only ones here,” I groaned back, pointing at the door just before that creep started whacking on it. I saw the glint of something silver through the wood, and the man’s face in front of me turned pale.
“We’ve got to get out of here. Now,” He whispered, quickly grabbing my hand and leading me to the end of the schoolhouse. There was a trap door in the wall, he explained, that would lead to the rest of the realm. He also told me that the realm appeared different to everyone, starting with the happiest memories in a person’s life and graduating into the worst. That part made me shudder, but as the thudding and crushing sounds of wood being split with an axe grew louder I had to dismiss the thought. He opened the trap door and shoved me inside. “I can’t go with you,” he explained. “It isn’t my place. These are your battles. Take care, J.”
Before I could ask how he knew my name, the door along with his heavenly face had disappeared. In front of me was darkness, a reddened sky with grey clouds and dead trees all around me. It was the playground still, but a twisted, apocalyptic version of it. The swings were broken, the slides warped and the merry-go-round was burnt to a crisp and falling apart. The slight, warm breeze made the trees whistle ominously and sway so close to the ground I thought one of them was going to end up slapping me in the face. I wandered through the creepy place of childhood nightmares, my trusty bag at my side full of stuff I still hadn’t looked at, and soon found myself in a forest-like setting. The trees were dense and it was foggy, not the same purple haze that was in the Tree-its’ place but a grey colored, heavy fog. The density of it made me cough; there was mostly no moisture in it at all. I heard what sounded like whispers as I walked closer to the clearing in the forest, and even rustling in the trees and shrubs around me. I thought I heard footsteps, and by the time I reached the small amount of light that was the clearing my heart was racing faster than a competitor’s at the Daytona 500. I stepped out into the grass, finally away from all the trees, but my heart nearly stopped at what was in front of me.
“Mommy! Don’t let them keep me here! I’m scared, Mommy!” I could hear myself screaming in my 11 year old girly tone of voice. The fear that I felt in my heart struck me again as I faced the White Room. It was complete with dolls, all beheaded and mutilated, some even missing eyes. There were my old teddy bears, torn apart and spilling stuffing and…blood?
Then I saw what scared me the most: I saw a little girl, about my age, in a torn and stained hospital gown. There was a makeshift knife at her side, which was really a toothbrush with the bristles cut out and a razor blade wedged into the plastic. It, like her and the rest of the disturbing room, was covered in blood. The girl’s hair was black…the same color as mine. Still, she looked so much like Mom….was this my mom as a little girl? I approached her, but jumped back when I heard a snake like hissing. A freaking anaconda started slithering out from underneath the white metal bed and hissing at me! I didn’t scream, but simply held my breath. Deep breaths always calmed me down when I knew I was about to have what I called an attack. Whenever I had an attack, freaky things would start to happen. I’d hurt things without remembering it. Right now, it seemed like both a good and bad idea. I wanted to kill the snake, but I didn’t want to hurt the girl, who was now rocking back and forth. I reached into the bag the Tree-it had given me and pulled out a butcher knife…a honking big one. I nearly doubled over from the weight of the thing. Kill it! I could hear someone screaming, and right about then I swear the snake heard it too because it lunged at me. I swung the knife, heard the hiss of the blade slicing through the air, the final hiss of the snake, before I opened my eyes and only its body was standing before me. The head was on the floor, tongue flailing, and the snake body was growing bigger. I backed away, knowing something funky was up.
Before my eyes, the head re-grew itself and stared angrily back at me. Arms and legs grew on its sides next, then gigantic bat-like wings. I was facing a dragon! I was facing a very big, very scary dragon, and it looked very hungry. I dug through the bag again, hoping and praying it had something that would kill a dragon or at least fend off the fire I just knew it breathed, only to dig out a metal shield. I shrugged, figuring ironically that this was going to be some sort of sick medieval cage match. The girl beside the bed was still rocking away, oblivious to the dragon’s appearance. It was then I remembered something; I’d never been scared of dragons. Maybe this was my mother’s mind? Maybe it was her fears I had to face? I shook that thought away and jumped to the side just as I saw the dragon’s sharp, deadly teeth reaching to take a giant, human-engulfing bite out of me like I was a midnight snack. I tried whacking its nose with the shield, making the dragon temporarily wrinkle his nose and appear confused, only to shake its head and roar at me with the force of a hurricane wind…not that I’d ever felt one of course, but I figured that’s how strong it would have been. I felt my back slam into the wall, the sickening crack of my skull against the concrete, and for a second I thought I’d broken something. The dragon swung at me with its tail, and I relied once again on my butcher knife. As I tried to lift it to swing, I realized it was heavier. I tugged upward with all of my strength and screamed at the creature, my eyes closed so I could avoid what gore may come.
I heard the thud of something hit the ground and opened my eyes. I saw the dragon’s tail, now nothing but a butt-stump, wiggling and writhing on the ground while the stump I’d left on its body squirted blood. “Gross!” I managed to say in surprise, the statement being replied with a growl and a whine from the wounded behemoth in front of me. As it turned, its chest faced me and I saw my chance. With another heave of the very heavy blade in my hand, I sliced through the creature’s throat. I heard a gurgling noise, then a giant thud as the dragon hit the ground. I looked at the arm wielding my butcher knife, and turns out it had transformed into a sword. It was no freaking wonder it was so heavy! I was just wondering how I was going to get it back into the bag when it started to shrink, turning back into the little knife I’d had. I shrugged, figuring anything goes in this world, and dropped it into the satchel it came from. I walked over to the dragon, which was shrinking as well, returning to its own snake form.
I managed a freaked out laugh and walked past it to check on the girl that reminded me so much of my own mother. She had stopped rocking, and was covered in fresh snake/dragon blood. This time, she looked up at me. I jumped at first, merely due to her appearance. She was pale, and her face was cracking and falling apart like a porcelain mask. The holes in the mask yielded a heady blackness, no facial features. It was just utter darkness like those odd contacts my brother wore to look scary for Halloween. Even the eye holes were steadily ebony, and it really made me uneasy the way she “looked” at me. She leaned over, like a marionette whose strings were not being pulled, and grasped a tight grip on her makeshift knife. Before I could figure out what was going on she was swinging at me, and she even managed to get me in a couple places. Blood streamed down my arms and legs, making me wince from the familiar sting.
“I was trying to help you!” I managed to get out of my mouth before she swung at me again, aiming for my neck. I remembered the article from the newspaper. ‘….lacerations to the jugular vein.’ I knew what a laceration was.
She was trying to cut my throat!
“Hold up! Just…stop for a second!” I screamed at her, digging in my bag for my blade again. I felt something and immediately gripped it, yanking it out of the bag. It was a makeshift knife just like hers, only my name was carved into it. My handwriting. I didn’t have time to wonder why it felt so familiar to see it. Just as she swung at me again, I grabbed her arm and twisted hard, making the skin in the appendage break and the bone stick out of the muscle. The girl screamed in agony, but I didn’t let go. I felt a frighteningly familiar rage run through me. I could feel myself swinging, screaming, hitting…then I came to my senses. The doll-girl was dead in front of me, glass eyes staring at me with their blue haziness. The arms were torn off and oozing blood everywhere, the legs broken and bent in different directions. Her head was severed.
It was like cutting up my old dolls all over again…the more I looked at her, the more doll-like she became. A hair bow appeared daintily in her bloody hair, and rosy cheeks formed on her face. Her lips were as pink as her cheeks, and her hands became small and her fingers slimmed down from their chubby state. Her actual body shrank, not to my surprise at all, and before me sat my favorite doll, the only one I’d not cut up and mutilated. Hot tears sprang to my eyes, and I gingerly picked up the doll to cradle it to my chest. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry,” I kept pleading, tears dampening my face and soaking the doll’s. I smoothed her hair and reached in my bag for a bandage, tape, cloth, anything…and came out with a sewing kit. Small, but it would do. I set to work, humming to myself an old nursery rhyme while I reattached the arms to my doll. All the memories I remembered having with the toy were fresh in my mind now. The day I got it, which was on my birthday, was the best day of my life. I had received it from my mom…my precious mother.
The mother I now didn’t have, the mother I had lost to that stupid driver. The mother the paper said I had killed. I got angry all over again and stopped sewing, but I simply rubbed the doll’s cheek like a mother would a grieving child. “It’ll be okay,” I mumbled. “I’ll be okay. We’ll get out of here, and we’ll be home.” I kept humming ‘Itsy Bitsy Spider’ and started sewing again, every fine stitch comforting me like a hug. It seemed like hours before I stopped again, admiring my work. I’d reattached the limbs and head, and had even finished hemming the dress I’d started on her so many years ago before I was taken to this same sickeningly white room. I tore some cloth from my own dress, a floor length white gown, and made a kind of backpack out of her. I adjusted her onto my back and opened the door again, finding it to have become a brick wall. My new problem, I figured, was to find the way out of here. I looked to my left, where the door I’d come in from was, and then to my right. I saw the rest of the room, which contained the mutilated dolls and bears, a bed, and a TV turned on a channel that gave nothing but weaving white noise.
I had a weird feeling about it, so I walked toward the small table with the ‘70’s style television. It had a dial knob for channel surfing, and no remote. I flicked the knob once, giving only white noise. Another turn: still white noise. I was getting frustrated at this point. One more time, I heard the voice of the Tree-it say in my head. Trust me. I shrugged and figured what the heck, flicking the dial once more. The screen went black, then flickered, then I saw the image of the hallway I’d entered the door to the Fear Realm in. I touched the screen, and it felt hard. Well, I thought, so much for going through the TV. As I was turning around, I felt that weird slow motion feeling again in the air. I felt warping and twisting in the floor, and a hole started to form. A small amount of suction was coming in from the void below, and I could feel myself being sucked down into it. I closed my eyes and didn’t fight it, praying it would take me back home.
When I opened my eyes, I was back in the hallway again, facing the many doors that were on either side of the narrow path. The eerie shades of purple, black and grey swimming across the walls was delightfully making me sick to my stomach. I was back. I didn’t have to face any more giant snake-dragon-shifting things, no creepy girls that turned out to be precious keepsakes. I could go through any of these doors and be back home. The downside was I didn’t have a clue which door led back home. I looked in front of me, having noticed something moving other than the warping walls. A shadow stood in front of me, taking on no true shape or form. I was a little confused, because I’d thought I had defeated all the creatures this crazy place had to offer. When it started to change and take on a form, I was even more confused. A tall, thin woman stood in front of me now, hair moving as slowly as the walls were warping. She smiled, and thin but sharp fangs glinted in her devilish grin. This had me hitting my forehead with the palm of my hand.
“Really? A vampire? We couldn’t get more original here?” I groaned, and the tall lady laughed, a dark and disturbing sound that had me shaking in my bones. Jeez, for a vampire, she was creepy. Twilight fans would be scared pant-less if they heard that.
“If you’re thinking the average vampire, you’re very mistaken,” she said in a grim tone of voice that sounded like a destroyed and out of tune music box. In fact, the more she moved, the more she looked like a puppet on strings. Her movements were jerky and almost like clay-mation. I swear I even saw the sliver of a string on her wrist. “I am a Van-Doll,” she explained, confusing me completely.
“A vandal?” I asked, craning my head like I was trying to see past her.
“A Van-Doll,” she said again, laughing. “Combine Van Hellsing with a puppet doll, and you’ve got a Van-Doll.”
I smacked my forehead again with my palm. It figured.
“So, you’re a vampire and a doll. Right?”
I received no verbal response, but a bored nod.
“Uh…alright then. So where am I?” I asked, finally getting out of my confusion long enough to remember.
“The Hall of The Hundred Doorways,” she said. “Each door leads to another realm, each of which you must defeat the challenge within. You’ve conquered Fear, correct? Now you will move on to Anger. Then Paranoia, so on and so forth until you reach the Final Door. Am I making sense?”
My face was pale, I think. I could feel all the blood and heat rushing out of my head. I felt dizzy. “I have to fight all of the freaking rooms?”
“Yes, in order to find what you’re looking for,” she said finally, smiling. “But you’ll need a companion.”
“And just where am I going to get that? There’s no one here but you, me, and the doll on my back.” I was getting impatient, and she could probably tell by my tone.
“That doll is precisely what you need. When you need someone to fight beside you, your companion will appear. They will not die, and they cannot be destroyed. You put love into bringing her from her disastrous state, so she is going to repay you.”
The last sentence lingered in the air as the Van-Doll disappeared, leaving me alone again. Well, not completely alone. So my doll was now a sort of fighting spirit? Okay, that I could handle. I looked behind me, not surprised to see that the first door I’d came through was still not there. The second door I’d just come out of was gone, as well. For a second, I thought I was seeing things; as I went to touch the now-empty void where the door had once been, I could feel no handle. It had melded with the wall and became part of it. I turned my attention to the second door, hoping to God it wouldn’t do the same before I had a chance to enter it. If the Van-Doll was right, I couldn’t get out of here without passing through each door and fighting each challenge within. I also had a feeling I had to learn the meaning of each door, and what impact it had on me. That kind of made sense, except there were so many doors I felt that it would take me forever. I started toward the door, which was on my right, and made my way toward it. If I’m going to fight, I thought, I might as well start here.
The door was tough, like something was barring it shut on the inside. I pushed with most of my strength, and it still didn’t seem to budge. I was confused again. If they wanted me to go through each door, why on earth was it not letting me in? I decided that the door was a challenge of its own, and dug into my bag for something useful. When I pulled out a lock pick, I smacked my forehead for at least the third time today. I couldn’t pick a lock to save my life! Still, I had to try. I stuck the pick into the small keyhole in the door, twisted it around a little, only to feel it break. I froze, certain I was going to scream in frustration. I slowly dug in my bag again, this time retrieving an axe. This was more like it. I lifted the axe over my head, and with a grunt of frustration and rage I slammed it against the door. To my great delight, the door split in the center with a loud crack! and the splintering of wood. I hacked at the door until I was able to crawl through the J-sized hole. Next monster, here I come.