“Every time I wake up, the room I’m in has changed. Not just the furniture, but the entire space. I tried to run, but each time I turn around, I find myself in a different reality.”
The first time it happened, I thought it was just a bad dream. I woke up in a small, dimly lit room with peeling wallpaper and a broken lamp on the nightstand. It smelled like dust and something faintly metallic, as if the air itself had forgotten to breathe for years. For a moment, I thought I was still asleep, but the cold, hard floor beneath me told me otherwise.
I rose to my feet, confusion clouding my mind. This wasn’t my room. It wasn’t my bed. It didn’t feel like anywhere I had ever been, and yet, the walls… the carpet… even the smell—it all felt strangely familiar.
I walked to the window, hoping to see something—anything—that could help me make sense of where I was. But when I pulled the curtain aside, all I saw was a street I didn’t recognize. A place I had never been. Empty streets, an old car parked by the sidewalk, its tires flattened with age. There was no one around. Not a sound. Just the oppressive silence of a world that felt forgotten.
I tried to shake the feeling off, telling myself it was just a dream, a weird glitch in the matrix. But when I opened the door and stepped into the hallway, everything around me changed. The walls weren’t the same. The colors of the paint were different. The floors, the doors—everything.
In a panic, I ran. I ran through the house, through the rooms, trying to find something—anything—that could anchor me to the world I knew. But no matter where I went, I found myself in the same spot, over and over again. The hallways were endless. The rooms kept shifting, stretching beyond what should have been possible.
I tried to leave, to break free. I opened the front door and stepped outside, but as soon as I did, I was back in the same place, in the same room. No matter how far I ran, how hard I tried to escape, I always ended up where I started.
That was when I knew something was wrong. Something deep and unnatural was happening.
The next day, when I woke up, it was different again. I was in a new room, but it looked almost the same as the last one. The furniture, the colors, the placement of objects—they had all changed, but it was still somehow familiar. I could feel the weight of the air, the same suffocating silence that had followed me before. I knew then that I wasn’t just waking up in a different place. I was waking up in a different version of reality.
I thought I had gone insane. Maybe I had. But every time I closed my eyes, the world around me would shift. The walls would bend and warp, the windows would show different views of the same empty street, and the doors would lead me to the same endless maze. And with each new version of the reality I woke up to, I felt more and more like I was losing myself.
I began to notice things—small things at first—that didn’t make sense. A clock on the wall that ticked backward. A mirror that reflected someone else’s face when I wasn’t looking. The pictures on the walls would change when I wasn’t paying attention, faces appearing and disappearing, the same people who had never been there before.
The strangest thing was the feeling of déjà vu. I couldn’t shake the sensation that I had already lived through all of this—each shift in time, each new room, each new reality. It felt as if I were stuck in a loop, a cycle that kept repeating itself, pulling me deeper into a world I could never fully understand.
Some days, I would wake up in a room that seemed almost normal. The kind of place I might expect to be in, but then there would be a subtle shift. A tiny detail that told me I wasn’t in the right place. A photograph of a person I didn’t recognize, or the smell of food that wasn’t there. And then I would hear it—the sound of something in the walls, a scraping, a low hum that seemed to echo in my bones.
There was something else with me. Something watching.
I started to leave notes for myself, scribbling in a small notebook I found in one of the rooms. I wrote down the dates, the times, anything I could remember—anything that might help me escape. But every time I thought I had figured it out, every time I felt like I had cracked the pattern, I would wake up somewhere else, somewhere new. The reality would change, and I would be lost all over again.
The more I searched for an answer, the more I realized that no matter how far I went, no matter how much I ran, there was no escape. I was stuck in this never-ending cycle, trapped in a world where time had no meaning and space had no boundaries.
And yet, I couldn’t help but feel like I was getting closer to the truth. With each shift, I uncovered another piece of the puzzle. There were hints—whispers, shadows—that something was hidden, something buried deep within the fabric of this distorted reality.
Who was doing this to me?
Why?
And perhaps most terrifying of all:
When would it end?
…
To be continued ❤️❤️❤️
Part 1: The First Glimpse
Every time I woke up, it was as if the world around me had reset itself—changed overnight in ways that were never quite clear, yet so painfully obvious. I couldn’t recall how long this had been happening—days? Weeks? Time had become as fluid and unreliable as the very reality I was trapped in.
The house I found myself in was familiar, but not. The furniture, the walls, the lighting—they were always slightly different, like the world I was in was trying to mold itself around my memories but failed to capture the right details. One moment, the bed was positioned at the opposite wall, the next, it was near the window, the curtains slightly billowing, though there was no breeze. The clock that hung above the doorway seemed to reset every time I glanced at it, ticking backward or moving in a loop.
And every time I tried to leave, I found myself coming back. Sometimes, I could escape the confines of the room, but the hallway would stretch endlessly. The door to the outside was always locked—or when it opened, I’d step into a foggy void, the familiar street outside replaced by something darker, more ominous.
I had been trying to keep track of my days—marking them in the notebook I’d found—but each morning, the paper would be blank again, as if my past attempts had never existed.
But then, one morning, I woke up in a room I didn’t recognize. It was cleaner than the others, almost sterile, with a whitewashed ceiling and hardwood floors polished to a dull shine. The bed was covered in crisp, unused linens. My fingers brushed against the edge of the bedsheet—smooth, without the worn texture that had greeted me in the other rooms.
I sat up, immediately sensing something had changed. There was a noise coming from somewhere, low and unsettling, as if the house itself was breathing. But unlike the usual hum of my surroundings, this sound was sharper—like someone was walking just outside my door, their footsteps echoing faintly through the hallway.
Tentatively, I rose and approached the door. As my hand reached the knob, I hesitated, remembering the many times before when I had opened a door only to find another shift in reality, an endless maze of rooms that never ended.
This time, however, as I turned the knob and stepped out, I was met with something different. A hallway stretched before me, but it was not the one I had walked through before. It wasn’t full of peeling wallpaper or faded rugs. This one was pristine—too pristine.
My breath hitched as I stepped further inside, drawn to the strange quiet. The air felt heavy, almost oppressive, and a creeping sensation of being watched set my nerves on edge.
And then, I saw her.
A woman, standing at the far end of the hallway, facing away from me. She was tall, with dark hair that cascaded down her back, wearing a long coat that trailed behind her like she had been waiting for someone. She turned, and for a moment, I froze—she wasn’t just standing there. She was… waiting. Waiting for me.
“Who are you?” I asked, my voice hoarse from the fear clinging to my throat.
She smiled—softly, but with an unsettling calm. “You already know me.”
Her words were cryptic, unsettling. I tried to recall if I had seen her before, but the memories remained locked away, out of my reach.
“Who are you?” I repeated, this time more forcefully.
The woman tilted her head slightly, as though she were considering something. “You don’t remember, do you?” She paused, watching me with eyes that seemed to see right through me. “You were meant to. But that’s the problem, isn’t it? You’re running from the truth.”
I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise. “What truth?” I demanded.
Her lips parted, and she stepped closer, her movement graceful yet unnervingly calculated. “The truth of this place, and the reason you’re stuck here. You think it’s an accident, don’t you? This cycle, this endless loop. But it’s not. It’s all been designed for you.”
She didn’t need to say more. The words hung in the air like a declaration of war, and I felt something inside me snap. Designed? For me? The sensation of being trapped, of not being able to escape—was this all part of some larger plan?
“Why? Why is this happening to me?” I asked, feeling a lump form in my throat.
The woman’s smile faltered, as if she were reluctant to say more. “You were never meant to stay here. But once you’ve crossed over, there’s no going back. This town… is a prison, but also a test. And you’re one of many who have failed.”
My chest tightened, the words sinking in like a cold stone. “Failed? What do you mean?”
“The question isn’t why you’re here,” she said, her tone growing colder. “The question is whether you’ll accept the truth when it’s finally laid bare before you.”
I took a step back, my mind reeling from her words. The woman’s form shimmered, as if she were slowly fading into the surroundings. And then she spoke, her voice fading with her image, but clear enough to cut through the silence.
“The door is always open, but you’ll never escape unless you understand what this place is… and what you’ve become.”
The room around me began to distort, the walls shifting, the hallway bending. My vision blurred, and the sound of a distant clock began to tick faster, more urgently. I wanted to scream, to run away, but something kept me rooted to the spot. I didn’t know who the woman was, or what she meant, but her words cut deep—too deep to ignore.
The ticking of the clock grew louder. And then, as though on cue, the ground beneath me trembled.
I was pulled forward, not by my own will, but by the force of the change around me. The hallway warped, swirling into something unrecognizable.
“Remember…” the woman’s voice echoed one last time, fading as I was sucked into the swirling void. “Remember who you are… and why you’re here.”
To be continued…
Part 2: The Forgotten Door
I woke with a start, my heart pounding, gasping for breath. The air around me was thick, as though the room had been closed off for years. It took me a few moments to realize I was no longer in the hallway, no longer standing in that strange, shifting place. Instead, I found myself in a small room, dimly lit by the flickering light of a single candle. It was eerily silent—no hum, no echoes of the voices, no hint of the strange woman who had spoken to me.
I sat up slowly, trying to calm my racing heart, and took in my surroundings. The room felt cold, sterile even. The walls were painted in a faded white, but they were cracked and peeling. The furniture was sparse, just a small wooden chair by a round table, and an old wardrobe against the wall. The room looked like it had been abandoned for years—if not decades—but something told me this place had always been here, waiting for me.
I tried to get up, but as soon as my feet hit the floor, the room shifted again. The walls, the furniture—it all seemed to move as if the room itself were alive, bending and warping into new shapes, new configurations. I stepped back in shock, looking at the space around me.
The room wasn’t changing. I was.
Each time I woke, I found myself in a different version of reality, a different space, with new rules that didn’t make sense. The strange thing was, no matter how much I tried to fight it, a part of me had started to feel at home in this ever-changing world. It was as if the place itself knew me, as if it had been waiting for me to wake up here all along.
I grabbed the door handle, desperate for escape. But as I pulled, the door wouldn’t budge. My pulse quickened. The silence pressed in on me again, suffocating, and then—another whisper.
“Come find me.”
The voice was faint, like a breath against my ear, and yet, it felt as if the words were meant only for me. I turned toward the voice’s source, but there was no one there. The room was still empty, save for the fading light from the candle and the dark shadows in the corners.
I stepped forward cautiously, knowing the pull of whatever force controlled this reality was stronger than my will to resist. My body moved almost of its own accord. I felt the air shift again, the weight of the room pressing down on me as the world began to blur around the edges.
I walked out into the hall, feeling the familiar pull, guiding me forward. It was the same hallway again. The same walls, the same flickering light from a single lamp. But this time, it was different. The air was thick with anticipation, as though something or someone was waiting just beyond the corner.
I followed the narrow path, drawn deeper into the labyrinth of this strange space. I felt the floor shift beneath my feet as the ground cracked and groaned, the walls stretching outward as though they were opening to something far larger than I could comprehend.
And then I saw it.
At the end of the hallway stood a door, completely different from the others I had passed. It was black, with ornate, silver symbols etched into its surface. The symbols pulsed faintly, glowing with an unnatural light that seemed to call out to me. I was no longer scared. I was compelled, almost as if the door was my destiny. As if stepping through it was my purpose.
I reached out and touched the cold, metallic handle. And as I turned it, I heard the same whisper again, but this time, it was louder, more insistent.
“Come find me, Eli.”
The voice was unmistakable now. It wasn’t just anyone calling me. It was her—the woman in the shadows, the one who had warned me, guided me, and now demanded my presence.
The door creaked open slowly, the air shifting around me with an almost alive feeling. The light beyond the door was blinding at first, but as my eyes adjusted, I found myself stepping into an entirely new world.
Part 3: The Keeper’s Realm
I stood at the threshold of the door, looking out at a vast, sprawling landscape that seemed to stretch on for miles. The air was thick with fog, and the sky above was a dull, swirling gray, like a storm had been gathering for centuries. The landscape before me was a mix of ruins—broken stone buildings, half-collapsed arches, and crumbling statues—all of which had been overtaken by twisted vines and creeping ivy. It was a strange, desolate beauty, like something ancient and forgotten that had been abandoned long ago.
But there was something else. Something… alive. The ground beneath me hummed with energy, and the air was thick with an unsettling power. I felt it pull at me, like the pulse of some long-dormant creature stirring to life.
I stepped forward, unsure of what I was walking into. The fog parted in front of me, revealing an ancient stone pathway that led deeper into the landscape. The ground beneath my feet cracked and shifted with every step I took, as if the earth itself was alive, watching me.
I reached the end of the path, where the ruins opened up to a vast, open space. In the center of this clearing stood a massive stone structure—an altar, or perhaps a throne—shrouded in a strange, ethereal light. The air around the altar shimmered, vibrating with power. It was here that I felt the overwhelming pull, the call that had led me through the shifting rooms, the voice that had haunted my every waking moment.
“You have returned.”
The voice came again, louder now, echoing through the ruins. I looked around but saw no one. It was as if the very landscape was speaking to me.
“You have come back to claim your place, Eli,” the voice continued, this time unmistakably feminine. The tone was familiar, but distant, like a memory I couldn’t quite grasp. “You are the one chosen to restore balance.”
Suddenly, I understood. This was no ordinary place. It was the place—the realm of the keepers, the protectors of the veil. And I… I was one of them. I had been one of them. I had abandoned this world, this duty, and now it was calling me back. The weight of the responsibility pressed down on me, but it wasn’t fear that gripped me. It was something else—recognition.
I stepped toward the altar, my legs unsteady, but my resolve growing stronger with each step. The air thickened around me as I approached the stone pedestal. There was something waiting here. Something I had forgotten, something I had once known.
As I reached the center of the altar, the ground trembled. The symbols that had been etched into the stone walls around me began to glow, flickering with an ancient light. A door—much like the one I had stepped through—appeared in the stone at my feet. It wasn’t a door to another room, but to another world, a threshold between the keepers and the reality I had left behind.
The voice spoke again, now softer, almost gentle. “Step through, Eli. The choice is yours. Will you return to your place as the keeper, or will you walk away from the past you left behind?”
I stood at the threshold, gazing into the unknown. The decision was mine to make. But I knew deep down, there was no turning back. The door had opened for me, and the veil was waiting. Whatever lay beyond this moment, I had to cross.
Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward.
The End.
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