The Awakening

By Brett Hosmer

In a world somewhere between life and death, Deacon Matthieson is locked in an epic struggle against an evil entity which seeks to capture his very essence. He finds this world is not uninhabited, as he encounters the mysterious Durante, who seems to possess an infinite knowledge of both Deacon's history as well as his surroundings, and the beautiful Emilla, who seems to mysteriously come and go on a whim, but nonetheless appears to be there to assist Deacon as well as provide him with companionship. Faced with temptation and seduction, ambiguous riddles and ever-changing surroundings, he soon comes to the frightening realization that survival is merely half the battle.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brett Hosmer
• Release date: Sep 6, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301835102

Brett Hosmer

I am 35 years old and live in Lansing, Michigan. Since I was a child, writing has been a passion of mine and I am thankful for the opportunity to share with all of you my creative visions and hope that each of you will enjoy my work. I appreciate any feedback that any of you have to offer.

Book preview

THE AWAKENING

By

Brett Hosmer

The Awakening

Brett Hosmer

Copyright © 2012 by Brett Hosmer

Smashwords Edition

This book is a work of fiction and any similarities to actual people, living or dead, places or events, is strictly coincidental.

This book should be classified as Adult Reading material due to strong language, violent and sexual themes. Please utilize proper discretion as you read this book.

Many thanks go out to Margaret, Danielle, Kyra, and many others who have stood patiently by me and supported me as I practiced my writing.

This book I had originally written in April, 2003 under the title Lost. I changed it to The Awakening from Lost as to not confuse its content with the popular TV show of the same name.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

******

THE AWAKENING

******

Chapter 1

Darkness embodied all surroundings for a moment as the young man struggled to regain his senses. At this moment in time, the past seemed nonexistent, as if in this instant, the man was being born for the second time. His eyes were open wide, yet the darkness remained. There was no knowledge of where he was, nor could he hear any voices. The only sound he could hear was that of the softly gusting wind, a warm wind which wisped its way around him. Then, slowly, the darkness began to subside. A grayish blur could now be seen ahead. It was a blur which was beginning to increase in detail with each passing second.

The man blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to focus on the images which were now appearing before him. The sky was the first sight that he saw. It was a sky which appeared a mixture of white and gray, with the sun seemingly obscured by a massive haze. As he turned his head, the man now was able to examine his surroundings. He was in the driver’s seat of a car. The car’s windows and windshield were mysteriously absent. Not shattered, but gone completely, as if they were never there at all.

Where am I? he asked himself as he removed the seat belt which was fastened to his lap. He glanced over to his right, where in the passenger seat rested an open wallet. He grabbed the wallet to examine its contents. To his surprise, it was empty, save for one lone item. There was a card, which appeared to be a driver’s license, with the name Deacon Matthieson printed on it.

The man examined the face of the man in the license photo, and studied it carefully. The man in the photo was handsome, with sandy brown hair and blue eyes, with a somewhat scruffy chin, appearing as if his face had gone unshaved in several days. His complexion was average, neither tanned nor pale. Then he reached above him and adjusted the rearview mirror. He examined his own face, which matched the face of the man in the photograph.

Deacon Matthieson, he said aloud as he stared at the license once more. Immediately he made a peculiar discovery. Beneath the spaces where his name was listed, instead of middle name, it read first name a second time. In the space where first name was listed initially, the space was blank.

My first name is listed where my middle name should be, he said. Yet it reads first name twice, and there is simply an empty space where the first name should be listed. Does this mean that I have two first names?

He decided to place that mystery aside for another time. The license was strangely absent of most of its features. Besides his picture, the license featured only his name and date of birth only. No address was listed, and there was neither a display indicating the height and eye color, nor an expiration date. Even the state for which the license was issued was peculiarly not printed on this card.

According to this card, my name is Deacon Matthieson, and I am twenty-three years old, he said. But..... where do I live? Where am I? Why can’t I remember any of these things?

He glanced up from the card to again peer through the open area above the dashboard where there should have been a windshield. It was at this moment when Deacon discovered that his car was parked directly in the middle of a two-lane highway. Yet there was not a single car on the road, save for his own.

Deacon next decided on an attempt to start the engine of his vehicle, but after a quick examination of the ignition, he discovered that no key was placed there. He stared at himself, along with the clothing he was wearing, a navy blue T-shirt, along with a matching pair of jeans, all underneath a black leather jacket. He searched the pockets of his jeans and jacket, and uncovered nothing.

Where are the keys to this car? he asked himself, as he next checked the sun visor on both the driver and passenger sides of the car. Again he uncovered nothing. He opened the glove compartment, and discovered that it was completely empty. As Deacon stared confusingly inside the empty glove compartment, the thought dawned on him that the car’s interior appeared to be in mint condition, a fact which he had overlooked until now.

Indeed, the car was incredibly clean, without a single speck of dirt on either the floor mats or the floor of the car itself. Was it possible that, while he was unconscious, a person had cleaned the entire interior of the car? If so, what had happened to the car’s windows and windshield?

Deacon examined the car’s odometer. To his astonishment, it read zero mileage. What? he asked himself. Did this car somehow drive itself out here, into this.... place? He shook his head. No, that can’t be, he reasoned. Certainly, the car would have some mileage on it, even if it were to have driven itself. It’s as if it were dropped from the sky out of thin air. He stopped himself in mid-sentence as he peered out the window, where once again, he saw the bizarre whitish-grey sky along with some leafless trees in the distance. What is this place?

As he asked himself the question, Deacon again felt a breeze through the open window. The breeze was warm, as the outside temperature seemed to suggest that it was late spring or possibly early summer. Yet how would that explain the absence of leaves on the trees?

After coming to an understanding that he would be unable to travel any farther by car, he exited his vehicle and closed the door behind him. He took two steps away from the vehicle, and stared out into the distance. He was standing in the middle of the two-lane highway, peering in the direction of the leafless trees he had seen on one side of the road. As he felt another gust of the warm breeze, he observed the trees in the distance, which, strangely, did not waver in the slightest.

Deacon shook his head, in disbelief as to what he was seeing. The breeze is strong, yet the trees aren’t moving, he said. How is that possible?

He decided then to turn around and face the other direction. As he turned, he noticed immediately that the car he had just exited had suddenly disappeared without a trace. The car should have been a mere two feet in front of him. Certainly he would have heard the sound of the engine had someone started the car and drove away.

He knelt down and placed his hand on the pavement. The asphalt was cold, as if it had been untouched for some time. Again Deacon shook his head, this time in confusion as much as disbelief.

What the hell is going on here? he asked, aloud. Where am I? How did I get here? And..... where was I before I arrived in this place?

Deacon stared down the two-lane highway in both directions. Either way, the road seemed endless. The ground was level in every direction, and he could see for long distances each way. Everywhere he looked, the scenery appeared the same. The whitish-gray sky, the unwavering trees, the highway, and the warm breeze.

I guess I’ll just have to follow this road until I find something, Deacon said to himself as he started walking, without a true purpose, to an uncertain destination.

As he continued down the road, several thoughts passed through his mind. He could not remember any events which had transpired prior to the moment which he had opened his eyes and found himself in the car. He pondered several different scenarios in his mind, trying desperately to discover a logical explanation for the situation he now found himself in. Yet it seemed that there was no reason or rationale for any of this. Nothing seemed to make any sense here. It was as if he had arrived in a world that was all its own.

I don’t even know where this road leads, he said to himself. I don’t know if I’m heading north, south, east, west, or some combination of two. He glanced at the sky, and due to the haze, he could not precisely determine the position of the sun. I don’t even know what time of day it is.

Immediately after he spoke those words, he glanced at the sky once again. This time, for a brief moment, he saw something unusual. It appeared, ever briefly, that the sky was flashing a reddish color, and the image of a face could be seen in the hazy clouds. The haunting image frightened Deacon, who quickly turned away and seemed hesitant to look above him again.

What was that? he said, the tone in his voice one of fear and anxiety. I didn’t like the look of that at all. He looked toward the ground as he continued walking down the lonely highway. This has to be some sort of dream, he said. If so, I hope to hell I wake up from it soon. I don’t know where I am, and it’s beginning to scare the hell out of me.

He continued staring at the ground as he walked alongside the edge of the road, with a feeling of extreme uneasiness about glancing upward again. After a minute or so, he did lift his head, not to look at the sky, but rather directly ahead. In the foggy distance he could see, on the opposite end of the road, what appeared to be a parked car.

Oh, yes! said Deacon, a smile growing on his face. Finally, somebody that can explain to me just what is going on here! He accelerated to a jog as he anxiously approached the parked car that rested ahead. Yet when he reached the car, however, he quickly discovered that this car, much like the one he had awakened in, was absent of glass windows and appeared to have a spotless interior. There was no sign of the driver, nor was there a sign that anybody had been in this car recently.

Hello? Deacon called as he opened the front door of the car on the driver’s side. Yet again, the only sound that could be heard was the sound of the wind, which seemed to exist for Deacon alone.

He sat in the driver’s seat of this car, examining the passenger seat, glove compartment, floor mats and any crevices in search of any clues, or information that may have been left behind by the driver. After finding nothing, he let out a frustrated sigh as he buried his head in the steering wheel. Then, suddenly, unexpectedly, Deacon was startled by a loud noise. He stared below and ahead of him, to realize that the car’s radio had turned itself on its own. It was not playing music but static, along with an extremely faint sound that resembled a female voice.

Deacon pressed his ear close to the speaker in an attempt to decipher the sound.

.....eee.....plll......iiiii.....

At that moment, just as abruptly as it began, the radio shut itself off. Deacon, bewildered, was left to ponder what the meaning behind the message could have been.

That was a person, saying something, he said. What it was, I don’t know. I only hope that somehow, I can find this person and talk to him or her. I need to find out what is going on. This isn’t normal. This isn’t right. Something has happened, and I’m determined to find out what it is.

Deacon peered straight ahead, through the empty windshield, to the road once more. Through the haze in the distance, it appeared that there was some sort of solid wall that spread across the road ahead.

What is that? he asked. It doesn’t look like a typical road-closed sign. It almost appears as if the road just leads right into this obstruction.

Deacon exited the car, and began to walk in the direction of the obstacle ahead. After he took several steps, he glanced behind him yet again. The car, like the car he had awakened in, had mysteriously disappeared.

What is going on here? he asked himself. I don’t understand any of this. Nothing seems right in this place. And why can’t I seem to remember anything that has happened to me before I awoke in that car?

The questions continued to run rampant through the mind of Deacon as he slowly approached the huge, seemingly endless wall that the road came to a sudden dead end at. He stared at the wall in awe. It seemed to extend infinitely in three directions, left, right, and above, as if this wall marked the boundary of the world itself. Yet he could feel a strange, unseen force pulling him toward the wall, as if something was trying to tell him that he must discover what was awaiting him on the other side.

The wind seemed to intensify at that moment, and as its velocity increased, Deacon could start to hear a sound. He turned to the wall and watched closely as a light suddenly began to shine at a small point on the wall where it contacted with the road. The light began to move upward in a vertical line, about seven feet, then turned right and moved in a horizontal motion for a distance of four feet before turning again, moving vertical once more, down the wall and back to the ground.

As he stood facing the wall, Deacon now was able to spot a doorway which appeared to have been carved into the wall by the mysterious light.

Something tells me that I must pass through this door, he said to himself as a feeling of intense anxiety overwhelmed him. I don’t know what lies on the other side of this door. I’m almost afraid to know the answer. But it doesn’t appear as if there is anywhere else to go. I must go through this door. With that, Deacon took a deep breath and pushed the door open. The moment he stepped into the doorway, he felt a bizarre rush of energy sift through his body, as if a huge gust of wind passed completely through him instead of around.

When it subsided, Deacon examined his surroundings. He found himself standing alone, in a small, empty room, an old, creaky wooden floor underneath his feet. On the other side of the room, sticking out of the floor, rested a small pocketknife, with a blade approximately three inches in length. He took six steps forward and crouched over the knife, attempting to pry it free of the floorboard.

He struggled with the small knife, as the blade was wedged deep into the floor. After a few seconds, he gave the knife a hefty tug and finally was able to pull it from the floor. The force of his pull on the knife as it released itself from the floor was enough to knock Deacon backward, landing on his rear.

Uhh, he winced as he sat momentarily on the floor, staring at the knife in his hand, now missing the tip of the blade, which was still wedged in the floorboard, as it had broken during Deacon’s struggle to free it.

He threw the knife aside. This thing is worthless now, he said, just before he took a closer glance at the floorboard in the exact spot where he had drawn the knife. It appeared that a message had been carved into the floor. He leaned forward to examine the writing, and his eyes widened as he read the message:

WELCOME HOME, DEACON.

Deacon stared at the haunting words carved into the floor. Welcome home? This tiny little room he was in was his home? This isn’t right, he said aloud, with much trepidation in his voice. My home? This can’t be my home.... can it? He stood on his feet and stared at the wall ahead. There was a door there now, where moments ago, Deacon could have sworn that there was none.

He opened this door, and unlike the eerie sensation he experienced when he passed through the previous doorway, this time, there seemed to be nothing unusual on the other side to greet him. The door led into an empty hallway, where, Deacon now discovered that he was indeed inside a house.

Could this be my house? Deacon asked himself. Am I… home?

If it was his house, however, Deacon would rather seek shelter elsewhere. It was dreadfully silent, and a thin layer of fog seemed to fill the air within the halls, which seemed mostly absent of any color.

He walked down the hallway until he entered a larger room, which appeared to be a dining room. On his left was a large grandfather clock, the pendulum as still as a corpse. The time read seven minutes past eight. As he stared at the clock, Deacon felt an inner sensation that seemed to compel him toward it, as if the time held some deeper, darker meaning.

Seven minutes past eight, Deacon said to himself. Why do I feel as if this clock is trying to tell me something?

Deacon shook his head and turned away from the clock, deciding for now to leave it alone. He turned to the table in the dining room, which was set in a meticulous matter, as if the person who had placed the china and silverware were expecting a fancy dinner.

Hello? he called. Is somebody here? Is anybody here?

There was no response.

He let out a sigh and turned toward the opposite end of the hallway, where he passed through an arched doorway and entered the next room, a living room. He examined the interior of the room. There he saw a large L-shaped couch, a recliner, two lamps, and a television. The colors of all the furniture seemed to be faded, as if they were decades old, yet upon closer inspection of the fabric they looked to be scarcely used.

Deacon shook his head, confused and frustrated. I don’t understand anything in this place, he said. This all seems like some sort of a bad dream. But I know that it can’t be. I would have awakened by now. He stared around the living room, and he felt himself overcome by a strong sense of familiarity, as if he had been in this room all his life.

He walked over to a door at the side of the room. This appeared to be the front door of the house. He opened it, and simply stood in the doorway as he stared outside. He saw that the house he was in was situated within a suburban neighborhood, as across the street he could see several houses of similar shape and size. Yet the atmosphere seemed much the same as it had when he arrived in this place. It was quiet, save for an occasional gust of wind. There were no vehicles traveling down the street, even though there were cars parked at the edge of the road. Everything about it seemed empty, desolate, and lifeless.

He thought back to the message carved on the floor of that empty room. Welcome home, Deacon, he said to himself as he shook his head. Is this how my life is? Alone, in a world of silence?

He stared outside at the road once more. This place is like a ghost town, he continued. I don’t see anyone here. I don’t understand what has happened. Where is everybody? Did something happen to the rest of the world, and somehow, only I survived? How else can I explain the absence of color in the sky, and in the air itself? How else can I explain doors that appear out of nowhere, and cars that disappear into thin air?

He shook his head as he closed the front door, stepping into the living room once more. "Trees that don’t sway in the wind, a sun that doesn’t shine.... nothing makes sense here. What is this place?"

He walked to the edge of the room, facing the large L-shaped couch, his back turned to the television set. "I don’t know where I am. I don’t know who I am. I’m confused, I’m uncertain..... I’m lost."

H-help me.... please!

Deacon, startled, turned around to see that the television had mysteriously turned itself on. The image of a young woman, approximately his age, had appeared on the screen. Whereas everything in the room seemed to be faded in color, the image on the screen appeared in full color. The woman had long, light brown hair and blue eyes that seemed to be calling out to him. I think I know her, somehow, Deacon said as he stared at the woman on the screen. Who is she?

On the television screen, the woman’s eyes seemed to stare directly at Deacon, almost as if she were staring at him, begging him to free her from the entrapment of the television. Please..... I need you, Deacon! Help me!

At that moment, the television screen went blank once more. Deacon stood in place, his mouth open, stunned as a result of what he had just seen. I believe I know this girl, he said, shaking his head in disbelief. Yet I don’t even know where to look for her. How can I possibly help her? I don’t even believe that I can help myself right now.

He pressed the power button on the television, hoping that somehow, the girl would reappear. The screen remained blank. It was at that moment Deacon peered over the top of the television console and discovered that it was not even plugged into the electric outlet on the wall at the time.

The TV turned on by itself, he said. How is this possible?

The woman’s voice continued to echo in his mind. It took a moment for Deacon to realize that her voice matched the voice he had heard earlier, in the car’s radio. Deacon already had this feeling as if that were long ago, in a completely different place and time.

Perhaps there is a reason that I’m here, he said. I wish I knew what it was, but I have a feeling that this girl has something to do with it. I don’t know what it is, or what my connection is to her, or to this world. Perhaps it’s nothing. But perhaps it is everything. It has become obvious to me now that I am not alone here. That is a refreshing thought in itself. But, who else is here, besides her?

He pictured the woman’s image in his mind once again, namely, the look of terror in her eyes as she had appeared on the screen. What was she so frightened of? he asked himself. Was it some other person? Or was it something different entirely? I need to find out. I don’t believe I can rest in this place unless I discover the answers to these questions.

With that, Deacon Matthieson exited the front door of the house, into the vast unknown world where he found himself.

Chapter 2

The nurse stared at the patient, who lay motionless on the hospital bed, the body fully encased within a thick plaster cast. She stared sadly at the helpless individual lying comatose before her, as she turned her attention to the life support mechanism to the patient’s right. There, several tubes, pumps and meters assisted in helping keep the person alive.

At that moment, a doctor stepped into the room. How are things looking in here? he asked the nurse.

The nurse shook her head, sadly and hopelessly. Not good, she said. I don’t even know what’s keeping this person alive. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a case as bad as this one.

The doctor let out a huge sigh. We have to do our jobs here, Laurie. We must continue to provide this patient with all the vital necessities, just as we would for any other individual that checks into this hospital.

I understand that, Doctor Barlow, said the nurse named Laurie. I just feel horrible about what happened to this one. The chances of a full recovery are almost nil for this patient. Shutting off the life support would practically be a mercy.

Barlow placed his arm around her. You’re very young yet, Laurie. I understand how you feel. A lot of young doctors and nurses at times tend to feel sympathy toward their patients. While I too feel great sympathy over this patient’s plight, we must understand that it is our duty as physicians to ensure that we do everything that is humanly possible to try and save the lives of our patients.

I know, said Laurie, again staring painfully in the direction of the life support mechanism. But every time I look at this, I feel almost as helpless and powerless as this patient must feel. I can’t help but think what if this were me? Would I want to continue living for the pure sake of living, or would I just want it all to end mercifully?

Well, said Barlow with a sigh, unfortunately, if you were in a comatose state, the decision would not be able to be made by you.

Have any family members been here to visit the patient yet?

Not yet. We’ve contacted the father and a sister, and both said they would try to arrive here later today.

I don’t even know how I’d react if this were a family member of mine.

I don’t either, Laurie. But for now, try not to worry about it. The life support system will continue to do its job. There’s nothing more that we can do at this time. We should tend to other patients. Let this one rest peacefully.

******

Deacon walked down a sidewalk, adjacent to the empty street next to him. His thoughts continued to be on the woman he had seen in the television screen as he made his way down the path.

She wanted me to help her, he said aloud. But how can I? I don’t know where to find her. She never told me where to go. I don’t know where to go. I don’t know where I am. I don’t know anything at all.

His thoughts flashed back, to the message that had been carved for him in the floor of that small empty room. Welcome home, Deacon.

That place could not have been my home, he said, shaking his head bitterly. I would never choose to live in a place like this. This is more or less a nightmare world.

As he walked, he kept his eyes straight ahead, not once stopping to examine the ground beneath him. That is, until he felt the ground beneath him changing, rather dramatically.

What on earth? Deacon asked himself this question before looking to the ground, where to his horror he discovered he was now standing in a large pool of blood. My God! he yelled upon witnessing this sight, leaping frightfully backward before turning his eyes downward once more, stunned and terrified as he stared at the massive puddle beneath him.

The blood seemed to form a trail, leading in the direction of an old building across the street, where an open door awaited, seeming to Deacon as an unspoken summons, directing him to the open doorway, as if there was no other place to go.

I’m not going in there, he said as he shook his head rapidly, his voice filled with anxiety and fear. I don’t want to go in that building. I’m scared to death of what may be in there.

At that moment, he felt another strong gust of wind, as if the weather itself was trying to force his hand. I have to go in there, he said, as he could feel his body trembling. I don’t want to. I don’t know why I must go in there, but something is telling me that I have no other choice. I don’t think it would be wise for me to attempt to defy it.

Slowly, Deacon stepped forward, walking alongside the bloody trail, with each step approaching the open doorway. After much hesitation, he stepped through the door, and once inside, he could see the light from outside quickly vanish as the door behind him slammed itself shut. Instinctively, he turned toward the door, only to discover that somehow, the door was no longer there, and a solid wall had now taken its place.

I’m trapped in here, he said, feeling his heart begin to race as feelings of fear and despair were creeping into his body. He turned once more. He looked to the floor, where amongst several small shards of shattered glass, the trail of blood led itself up a flight of stairs to his left. The room was very dank and dim, appearing to be an old apartment building, which had been condemned long ago.

I am so scared, he said aloud once more. I only wish I could understand why I’m here, and what this place is. I don’t want to be here at all.

As he stood at the bottom of the stairs, he could hear a soft, slow piano tune playing. It seemed equally pleasant and chilling, and it only seemed to add to Deacon’s fear as he began to slowly ascend the steps.

I wish I had held onto that knife now, he said to himself. Even with a broken blade, it at least could provide me with some sort of protection. Here I have none. I’m mindlessly following this blood trail, and I hear this piano playing, as if it is the Pied Piper leading me to my doom. He paused as he reached the top of the stairs, where a narrow hallway extended to the right. Both the hallway and the blood trail came to an end at another door, where an eerie red light could be seen through each of the door’s edges. The door had a small, worn rectangular spot which appeared to have once been a plate on its surface, perhaps the number of the room.

The piano tune grew louder with each step Deacon took. Clearly, the tune was originating from the other side of this door. There has to be somebody here, Deacon said as he approached the door. There has to be. He stood in front of the door, with his hand inches from the doorknob, when another thought entered his mind. Or, perhaps not, he said as he moved his hand away. Maybe this is another one of those weird tricks where I’ll open up this door and I’ll find myself in a totally different place. Hell, this piano is probably playing all by itself. I haven’t been here very long, but already I’m getting the idea that nothing is to make sense in this place.

Without giving the notion another thought, Deacon opened the door, and entered a small room. Inside, his jaw dropped as he finally discovered the source of the blood trail. A black, hooded figure lay on the floor with three large knives buried in its body. Ahead of it, sitting on a bench in front of a piano, his back turned to Deacon, was a man, dressed entirely in black. Deacon stared at the man, who from behind appeared to be completely bald, as he continued to play the haunting piano tune, all while sitting in this room, which was illuminated only by two lava lamps stationed on either end of the piano, which bathed the room in an eerie red light.

I’ve been expecting you, Deacon, the man said in a deep, soft, somewhat raspy voice. He spoke his words without turning around, as he continued to play the piano without missing a note. Please, he continued. Don’t be afraid. Step into the room.

Deacon slowly entered the room and stopped in front of the hooded figure. He could not view any features of the figure beneath him, which was entirely veiled in a cloak. All that could be seen were the three blades which appeared to penetrate deep into the body of the figure. Deacon glanced at the man at the piano, who continued to play the tune, seemingly without any thoughts or feelings of remorse for the corpse situated a mere two feet behind him.

Did.... Deacon began nervously, did you kill this person?

The man began laughing sadistically as he ceased his piano tune.

What is so funny? Deacon asked, frightfully. He crouched over the slain figure and removed one of the large knives from its body. Don’t even try anything, pal. I have one of these knives in my hand.

The man slowly stood upright from the piano and bench and then turned to face Deacon. He had a sinister look of indifference on his visage as Deacon studied the man’s face. He appeared to be approximately Deacon’s age, possessing a physical specimen which was comparable to that of Deacon’s. He was clean-shaven, his eyebrows were shorn, and his skin bore a pale complexion. His eyes appeared very dark, almost black, as he glared at Deacon with a psychotic expression on his face. It was enough to frighten Deacon some more, even though he held the knife in his hand, while the man dressed in black was unarmed. As Deacon stared at the man before him, he somehow felt as if he had seen this very image once before. But where he had seen it, he could not remember.

And what do you intend to do to me, Deacon? the man asked, his voice cold and intimidating as he slowly approached Deacon, without any regards for the blade which Deacon held. Do you intend to kill the first person you have encountered, without even a clue as to what has happened to you?

Deacon’s eyes were wide with fright as he yelled, What do you know about me, man? Answer me!

The man remained silent, advancing toward Deacon until he arrived at the feet of the slain figure. He glanced down at the figure, which rested between and beneath the two of them. His brief motion toward the figure attracted Deacon’s attention to it as well. Suddenly, a chilling thought entered Deacon’s mind. He suddenly held the tip of the knife to the man’s throat. You killed her, didn’t you?

Despite the fact that Deacon held the blade merely a fraction of an inch away from his throat, the man did not show even the slightest hint of fear as he shifted his attention to Deacon, an expression on his face that could nearly be described as arrogance.

So you believe that this, he said, extending his hand to the figure, is the woman whose face you saw on the television screen?

How do you know about that? Deacon asked, rather fearfully. You weren’t there. You weren’t in that room with me. How could you possibly have any knowledge of that?

The man smiled, appearing as if he were silently laughing at him. "I know everything, Deacon."

All right, then. Where can I find the woman that asked for my help? Where is she? Who is she?

The man turned to his left and began to slowly walk around the corpse. Deacon stepped in front of the man, impeding his path, and held the knife to his throat once more.

I asked you a question! Now I want to hear the answer!

The man flashed him a most insincere smile. Do you think that by threatening me with a knife, you will discover your answers? If I am dead, you will never discover anything. That would be most unfortunate, wouldn’t it now?

Deacon sighed and pulled the knife away from the man’s throat. All right. I won’t stab you. Please, just tell me. What is this place?

The man smiled, however not in a friendly manner, but rather in a fashion that seemed to suggest madness, or psychosis. Why are you asking me a question for which I have already given you the answer?

What are you talking about? Deacon asked, with his eyes wide with trepidation.

Surely you saw the message I left for you in the small room, the man replied, slowly tilting his head and neck as he continued to stare peculiarly at Deacon.

Welcome home, Deacon, Deacon said.

The man simply answered his question by nodding, without speaking.

I don’t understand. I don’t live here. I don’t even know where ‘here’ is.

Well, you should know, for you are the one who brought yourself here.

Deacon’s expression shifted from one of fright to one of anger and aggression. I woke up in a car in the middle of nowhere! Since then, I’ve been trying to figure out exactly what the hell is going on here! I don’t know anything!

The man continued to speak in a calm, calculated tone of voice while exhibiting an unsettlingly gentle demeanor. You will know everything in time, my friend. Just as I do now.

Well, if you know everything, you can start by telling me where to find this woman! Who is she? I feel as if I know her.

You are correct in your assumption, Deacon, he replied while maintaining his uncomforting smile. You knew her very well.

You know who she is, then? What is her name? How can I find her?

The man’s smile seemed to change somewhat, as it appeared as if he were almost laughing at him. "Why is the woman so important to you, Deacon? Like I said, you knew her very well. But do you know her now?"

She asked for my help. And if I have known her in the past, I would like to find out who she is, so I can perhaps get to know her again.

Did she ask for your help? The man suddenly held a finger in the air, as a thought entered his mind. Ah, yes. The television screen.

Deacon remained adamant Again, I want to know, how is it that you possibly know about that? Were you with her? Were you videotaping her as she spoke to me? What were you doing to her?

The man’s smile disappeared as he shook his head, appearing frustrated. So many questions you have for me.

Deacon glared angrily at the man. You keep avoiding my questions. Fine then. He knelt beside the cloaked figure. I’m just going to have to find out for myself then.

Go ahead, then, the man responded in a threatening tone. Remove the mask and uncover your greatest fears.

Deacon glanced briefly up at the man, and decided not to heed his warning, as he slowly removed the hood of the cloaked figure and gasped at the sight. He was expecting to find the body of the woman, but instead, he uncovered the ghastly figure of an unearthly creature. Its body was bronze in color, with a head shaped similar to that of a large light bulb. It appeared to have no nose, large, reddish eyes, and it appeared to have two mouths, one atop the other, each with two sets of small but sharp, pointed teeth. What on earth is this... thing? Deacon shouted at the man, a look of disgust as well as terror on his face.

You should know better than anyone, Deacon. You’ve always been afraid of it your entire life.

I don’t have a clue what you are talking about! Deacon yelled. I’ve never seen anything like this in my life!

The man’s unsettling smile returned as he offered further explanation. But you have. It has always existed, deep within this realm. And it is this realm that is your home.

Bullshit! he yelled, placing the knife on the ground and shoving the man against the wall in a fit of rage. These are all lies! You say that this is my home? You say that I know what this thing is? I say you’re full of shit!

The man began laughing psychotically.

Deacon, enraged, clasped his hands around the man’s throat. Shut up! he screamed.

The man, to Deacon’s astonishment, did not show the slightest sign of fear. In fact, he was not even struggling to breathe. He continued laughing at Deacon, even as Deacon squeezed his throat as tightly as he possibly could. What do you think that you can accomplish by doing this? Do you truly believe that these actions are going to help you any?

Deacon released his hands from the man’s throat. He stared at him and shook his head in disbelief. You acted as if I was doing nothing to you, yet I thought that I was strangling you. He stared at his hands briefly before turning back toward the man. Who are you? What are you? I don’t understand anything here, anything at all. Please, mister..... I just need help. He sat on the floor, in a corner of the room, away from the corpse of the creature, with his arms folded over his knees. I want to go back home, to where I was before I arrived here.

The man calmly approached Deacon and slowly extended his hand toward him. "You are home, Deacon. Your home has always been here for you. All your life it has been your choice to live in the outside world of materialism. But it is here where you truly live. It is where you have always lived."

Deacon grasped the man by the hand and allowed him to assist him to his feet. The two stared at each other silently before the man finally spoke again. You will eventually understand everything you see, my friend. You may think that your answers are being denied you, but you will eventually discover all of them, in time. Along the way you will have many decisions that you must make. These are decisions that will affect you immensely in the long run.

What sort of decisions?

Every decision, the man asked, his smile seemingly growing wider.

Deacon sighed. You’re not making things very easy on me, are you?

Believe me, Deacon, the man continued as he began to slowly walk in a circle around him, Things could not be easier than what they are for you. You don’t even realize the truth yet. But once you do, it will all make sense to you. Everything which has happened to you, both in the past, as well as the future. With that, the man began to walk in the direction of the door.

Deacon shouted at the man just as he reached the door. Hey! What is your name, man?

The man stopped briefly in the doorway. He turned to Deacon and spoke his name with a simple nod, Durante. He paused briefly before holding his index finger in the air beside his head. Oh, and remember this one piece of advice. Every decision has its consequences.

Durante turned and walked away, out of Deacon’s view. Hey! Deacon yelled. I’m not through talking to you yet, Durante! He then walked into the doorway, only to discover that Durante had disappeared completely.

Where the hell is he? Deacon yelled, running down the narrow hallway once again, and turning left to walk down the stairs. Once he reached the bottom of the stairs, however, he found that the room he had been in had changed. The shards of glass remained in their place, but the blood trail was gone. Two windows were now in place where before, only a solid wall had rested. The door leading out of this room had reappeared as well.

Deacon stared at the windows for a moment then turned to his right, where moments ago, there was a flight of stairs leading upward. Now, however, they had mysteriously disappeared.

I guess I should have expected that to happen, he said aloud as he stood in front of the door. It seems that with each room that I enter, something else changes. Durante called this place my home. He says this place has always been here for me. I just don’t understand. What the hell does he mean by that? This most certainly is not my home. He shook his head, trying to comprehend all the words which Durante had spoken to him. "Every decision I make has a consequence, he said. I still feel that I must find that woman. Hers was the first voice that I heard in this place. She called out to