Pen to the Paper 19

Nick walked down the halls of the arena. “Caleb, this isn’t funny,” he said, scanning left and right through the empty, dark corridors. Suspenseful music slowly began to increase in volume. Subtle at first, when it was finally reaching its loudest moments, Nick hadn’t realized that music had started playing, just that it was currently playing. It felt natural: as if it were always there.

There was a woosh behind him. Scared, he jumped and turned around, his phone flashlight illuminating an empty hallway.

“I don’t like scary movies, man!” he called out.

An ominous laugh came from behind him. He turned around. Still nothing.

Then he felt it. Two tendrils poked his sides.

Nick spun around, screaming like a little girl and flailing his arms. When he opened his eyes, he was horrified to find no one was there. "Mommy," he mumbled under his breath. He bolted forward, the eerie music picking up, making his heart beat faster.

There was a cackle to his right, but he ignored it and kept running. His legs pumped faster than Usain Bolt's impressive twenty-seven and a half miles per hour. It's incredible what fear and adrenaline can do, isn't it? One of the speed detection devices I set up clocked him at thirty-five miles per hour. Though he does work out, Nick has never ran for sport before.

In front of him, a door began to slide down from the ceiling above. Pushing harder, Nick continued forward, sliding underneath the gate just before it closed.

He rolled head over heels and used the momentum from the roll to pick himself back up and continue his mad dash for the dressing room. He heard more whooshing behind him, as if whatever had ran across the room was doing so faster and gaining on him rapidly.

Tears were streaming down Nick's face at this point. As he neared the staircase, he began to panic. What if there's something on the other side of that door? That and a million other thoughts raced through his head. He closed his eyes, reached for the doorknob, and slammed it shut behind him.

He slid down the first railing on the stairs, grabbed a hold of the edge, and threw himself down the next flight of stairs. After sprinting down the final flight of stairs, he began to laugh in relief as the door to the dressing room neared. The lights above him began to increase in intensity, the buzzing from the LEDs getting louder and louder.

Ten feet from the door, the lights began to shatter. Glass rained down on Nick as he grabbed the doorknob, twisted it open, and slammed the door behind him. He slumped to the ground, leaning against the door, chest heaving.

He looked around. Watching. Waiting. Listening.

“Just kill me already,” he said when he saw the dark shape in front of him.

The mysterious figure slowly lurked closer and closer to him, taking on a more humanoid shape.

Nick covered his face, waiting for whatever harm may come to him.

“What are you doing, dude?”

Nick looked up. The lights were on in the room. The dark figure that had been lurking towards him was me. “Did you… were you…”

“What?”

“There was this thing chasing me, and the lights exploded, and I ran like an Olympic athlete…”

“Lights exploded? What are you talking about?”

Nick struggled to stand up, still exhausted from running so hard so fast, and opened the door.

“Man, you’re crazy. The lights are fine.”

Nick did a double take. His mouth dropped open when he realized that I wasn’t lying: the hallway was perfectly clean. Every single light was on and in place. It slowly dawned on him what had happened.

I don’t know what happened, but I woke up in the hospital lying in bed. “You’re lucky to be alive,” the nurse said.

“What happened?”

“Your ‘friend,’ if you can even call him that, kicked you in the side of the head. Your face slammed into the wall and you crumpled to the floor. I’m amazed you don’t have any brain damage. You have a fractured skull, though.”

“Dang. That sucks. I have somewhere to be! I have an announcement to make!”

“Don’t worry about that. You should be getting some rest. And he did it for you already. He told me to show you this video.”

The nurse pressed play on the TV.

Nick was standing beside my limp body. He was holding me up next to the microphone. I had sunglasses on. The sunglasses were hanging on the edge of my nose, and you could completely tell I had been knocked out.

“So, Caleb isn’t feeling well,” Nick said, raising my hand in a weak attempt to make it look like I was waving. “He–uh–is having some voice issues.” Nick shook me to try to make my head nod, sending my sunglasses skipping across the stage. The audience gasped. “Pentothepaperisout!” Nick called out, panicked. The platform beneath us began to sink as mass panic took over the stadium. The video stopped.

“Well, that was a mess,” I said.

“Indeed it was. Here are your pain meds, and I’ll be back in a minute with more information about how long your stay will be here.”