A short excerpt from something I began writing last week.It's based, if loosely, on a dream I had (turns out I DO remember those things, occasionally), and the concept interested me a little. This needs rewriting, really, because it feels a little rough, and there's a couple of details I wanted to include but didn't. That, and I just like rewriting things. xDAnway, this thing is that thing. For now, I'll just call it 'Arrival'.
It’s growing dark when I finally get out of
the car and plant my feet on solid ground. Despite the unfamiliarity of the
soil, it feels good to stand for the fleeting moment before I’m led into the
building without even a ‘good-bye’ from my father. Perhaps he’ll be bringing my
bags in, I decide, and will bid me farewell when he leaves. With slight
reluctance, my attention turns back to the space around me.
Even in the low light, I can see
that the building’s exterior is colossal. Though surprisingly old, I muse as I
climb the stone steps and enter an exquisitely decorated corridor, the smell of
disinfectant lingers faintly in the air. Is that a good sign, or not?
My struggles with these antique
surroundings are cut short, though, when I am led to the left and into another room.
It is exactly as I expected the centre to be. Completely pristine white. From
the walls to the floors, to the ceiling and the lights which grip it,
everything reeks with a bright, colourless gleam. Even the footsteps of
white-coated staff-members ring with a colourless tone. It’s so unnerving, I
have to fight a shiver which itches up my spine, and my escort, a young man
with dark hair to match the black clothing he wears beneath his white lab coat,
frowns at me as if I’m doing something wrong.
I wonder if I should speak to him,
ask a little bit about the centre, but it feels wrong to break such a perfectly
undisturbed silence, so I keep my mouth shut and let the ground absorb my
footsteps as I walk.