"I close my eyes and I listen." The sounds came back to me, over and over. over and over again. The crashing of the door, I heard them grunt as my lights went out.
I wok up slowly. my head spinning, and the knot in the back of my head felt tender to the touch. Slowly the room stopped spinning. As I became more stable, in the head, anyway. My stomach felt like it was floating on the ocean . I moved too fast, my head spun, My stomach did a flip flop, and if I'd hand anything in it , It had been up and all over the floor.
I sat still for a few minutes to look around my surroundings. I didn't seem to know where I was. The room wasn't familiar. It was old dusty, no one had been there in decades, the windows were covered in a thick combination of dust and some kind of oily substance that had made the dust stick even more and harder to see through. The furniture, what there was of it, consisted of a very old set of wooden table and chair. Both covered in dust and had seen much use in their day, judging by the look of the place not since the 1940's or so. The old pot bellied wood stove in the corner gave the clue as to what was on the windows. Creasol .
They had been burning wet soft wood in the stove and the creasol was a byproduct of the wet soft wood they had been burning in the little stove many years ago.
As my head and stomach settled themselves down a bit , the next question was how did I get into this old room? How to get out? Where was it?, How do I get out? and Why? I slowly got to my feet this time the room didn't spin, at least not so fast. I slowly worked my way around the room. The dust was thick. Thicker then it looked, everything I touched seemed to want to stick to me, leaving clear prints where I touched it. The table was wobbly and the chair, wobblier, The old spring mattress I had been laying then sitting on, was also just as dusty, as I looked back at it, Looking down at myself, I was covered in dust, 50 plus year old dust. I slowly made my way to the door. It was a old six panel door, only it had real panels in it, not the crap they sell today that look like six panel doors, but are actually a one piece hollow core door. The notion of a idea crept into my still foggy brain. If I could get one of those big panels loose and out I might be able to get to the door knob on the other side and get it open. Or I could just try the door knob first. Like I said I was still foggy.
To my surprise the knob turned. The door opened. I found myself in a long hall running across the length of the house. My room seemed to be in the center of the hall . There were doors on wither side of me .The hall was dark as there was very little light coming up from the stairs at the end where one wall stopped short, and it became a balcony of sorts, with what must have been a grand staircase at one time leading down to the main level of the house. As that looked like my best way to get out of this old house, I headed for stairs at the end of the hall. Down the stairs. Going through what once has been a grand entrance. Stumbling out into the light of day As I was blinded by the light of day. I turned around to see a empty lot. I wondered to this day, who had put me in the old house for many years. But every so often I listen in my mind to the sound of being knock unconscious.
I wok up slowly. my head spinning, and the knot in the back of my head felt tender to the touch. Slowly the room stopped spinning. As I became more stable, in the head, anyway. My stomach felt like it was floating on the ocean . I moved too fast, my head spun, My stomach did a flip flop, and if I'd hand anything in it , It had been up and all over the floor.
I sat still for a few minutes to look around my surroundings. I didn't seem to know where I was. The room wasn't familiar. It was old dusty, no one had been there in decades, the windows were covered in a thick combination of dust and some kind of oily substance that had made the dust stick even more and harder to see through. The furniture, what there was of it, consisted of a very old set of wooden table and chair. Both covered in dust and had seen much use in their day, judging by the look of the place not since the 1940's or so. The old pot bellied wood stove in the corner gave the clue as to what was on the windows. Creasol .
They had been burning wet soft wood in the stove and the creasol was a byproduct of the wet soft wood they had been burning in the little stove many years ago.
As my head and stomach settled themselves down a bit , the next question was how did I get into this old room? How to get out? Where was it?, How do I get out? and Why? I slowly got to my feet this time the room didn't spin, at least not so fast. I slowly worked my way around the room. The dust was thick. Thicker then it looked, everything I touched seemed to want to stick to me, leaving clear prints where I touched it. The table was wobbly and the chair, wobblier, The old spring mattress I had been laying then sitting on, was also just as dusty, as I looked back at it, Looking down at myself, I was covered in dust, 50 plus year old dust. I slowly made my way to the door. It was a old six panel door, only it had real panels in it, not the crap they sell today that look like six panel doors, but are actually a one piece hollow core door. The notion of a idea crept into my still foggy brain. If I could get one of those big panels loose and out I might be able to get to the door knob on the other side and get it open. Or I could just try the door knob first. Like I said I was still foggy.
To my surprise the knob turned. The door opened. I found myself in a long hall running across the length of the house. My room seemed to be in the center of the hall . There were doors on wither side of me .The hall was dark as there was very little light coming up from the stairs at the end where one wall stopped short, and it became a balcony of sorts, with what must have been a grand staircase at one time leading down to the main level of the house. As that looked like my best way to get out of this old house, I headed for stairs at the end of the hall. Down the stairs. Going through what once has been a grand entrance. Stumbling out into the light of day As I was blinded by the light of day. I turned around to see a empty lot. I wondered to this day, who had put me in the old house for many years. But every so often I listen in my mind to the sound of being knock unconscious.