《Thirty Two》 Prologue: I drift. I was floating through a black empty void. There was nothing around me, just pitch black space. I felt like I was out of my body almost, it was as if I was drugged. My trance-like state was interrupted by an ear piercing voice surrounding me equally. The girlish voice felt as if it was rattling my brain within my skull. Through the mess of sound, I hear the words that would explain my purpose for my unwanted venture: Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. ¡°Find me.¡± My memory of this occurrence was taken away, though it would come back in time. Ch. 1: I awake. The feeling of cold emanating from the concrete below chills my bones. A stark contrast from the blinding fluorescence that rains from above. I¡¯m unsure about where my slumber has taken me. I¡¯m surrounded by wooden crates, lined up on big metal shelves. Where am I? What am I doing here? My memory of past events seem to have waned beyond recognition. I don¡¯t seem to be any different from what I assume is my normal. No signs of a struggle, no marks to suggest anything heinous. It¡¯s as if I was just teleported here, at complete random. The air smelled of what I imagine is warehouse smell, but I don¡¯t know what kind of warehouse would look like this. Something about this place seemed¡­alien. Nonetheless, I put aside the unfamiliar situation I have been thrown into and begin my only logical choice: Search for the way home. I don¡¯t know what I am doing here, but I at least know my prime objective. The area around me is eerily quiet, not a noise to be heard. My footsteps echo around, mine and mine only; the area seems to be devoid of any living activity. T[here wasn¡¯t a bug to be seen, much less a human being. The only way I could describe this foreign place is like a supermarket with no goods. The building is quite tall, with shelves stacked up 5 times my height, all filled with what I presume are empty crates; they are very light compared to their massive size. The large echo that is present tells me the area is quite large. The long shelves form a labyrinth-like maze. I have a feeling my time getting out is going to be a long, monotonous process. How anyone would manage to navigate these long walkways is beyond understanding. I see no distinguishing factors to help lead the way. No special signs, no people around to ask, the empty feeling is wracking my nerves to no end. I felt metaphorically blind, so to speak. Only a couple of minutes had passed, yet it felt like hours of my life were drained. My aimless walking eventually led me to walls. So this place does have ends. I followed the walls for as long as I could until I eventually found a feeling of relief. I ran into a door. A plain silver door which somehow had not been locked. The excitement in me, however, immediately dissipated. Dead end. No, this was more than just a dead end. The doorway had solid concrete walls blocking them off. This has to be a dream, right? Like, solid concrete walls behind doors? These are the kinds of things you¡¯d hear about in people¡¯s nightmares. This seemed¡­ too real, though. I felt as though this was just as real as my senses were telling me. Doors weren¡¯t a safe haven like I wanted them to be. This is where I started to truly feel hopeless. Looking for vents or openings in the ceiling would prove difficult, it would be a huge risk to my life. What is this? Where am I? What kind of sick joke is this? These three phrases echoed through my mind. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. On a bit of a side note, amnesia is the worst. One of human¡¯s biggest fears is losing what they once remembered. Our lives are built off experience. Without any memory, we are simply living, breathing empty husks. When I awoke, sprawled out on the floor, I remembered nothing of how I managed to get here, or anything before that, including personal details. It was like my brain was a hard drive, and it performed a factory reset. If only I could get back what I have lost, I would have a little more direction in my favor. The only thing that remains in my consciousness is basic human instinct, not even my name. It felt as if I was missing something else though, something¡­important. Hopelessness turned into fear. I am starting to realize the gravity of my situation. I mean, wouldn¡¯t anyone be scared in a place so unfamiliar? What should I do? I¡¯m defeated. I have exhausted what little options I had. I suppose sleeping is the only thing I can do. It¡¯s merely a return to start, but I have nothing else to do. I am now in the fetal position on the smooth concrete. Maybe the sweet grace of sleep, or death perhaps (pessimistic, I know), will take me in its loving arms. Under the metal shelves proves no further explanation. It¡¯s like looking into a void. Nothing but black nothingness that expands past my eye¡¯s limits. It¡¯s cold. I never have wanted to go home so badly in my life, though I am not sure where this feeling is coming from. I don¡¯t even remember who I am, after all. In the silence, I lay in anguish. That¡¯s when I hear something. It¡¯s faint, barely audible. If the silence wasn¡¯t so present, I¡¯m almost certain I wouldn¡¯t hear it. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Immediately, my flight reaction kicks in. A noise! A noise that is not of my own! I immediately get on my feet. I take care to be quiet; I don¡¯t want whatever is out there to disappear. Navigating the endless lair seemed so easy now. An objective was in sight. Finally, the drive I had been looking for through all those silent minutes that I had spent. The sound got louder as I pressed on. I was most certainly on the right path. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. It was a consistent tapping sound, repeating in 2 second intervals. I¡¯m unsure of what it was. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. I was almost there, it felt so close. I carefully step, taking off my shoes to remove any sort of noise that would come from my footsteps. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. It was around this corner. I slowly edge around the bend. I peek around slowly, making as little sound as I could. Silver was the color my eyes fixated on. Ch. 2: I see. The tapping was most certainly originating from the sight down the corridor. It was¡­ someone. There, sitting on one of the empty crates, sat a thin figure. Shoulder length, silver hair marked the appearance of a feminine being. Dressed in what appeared to be a plain, white one-piece dress. She was facing one of the shelves. The source of tapping, her feet, beating the crate she sat on, as if she was sitting on a tall ledge. Her eyes were fixated on the floor. Her eyes showed no sign of the distress of which I was feeling. In fact, her expression remained stoic, as if this was a normal day in her eyes. I just kind of stood there. I was in a trance. My first sign of life, though a feeling of being relieved wasn¡¯t exactly in my grasp. Her detached expression showed no signs of hope. What was she doing here? Is she in the same situation that I have been subjected to? Well, this was not the time to just stand here. I have questions, and she may have my answers. I slowly approach her. She noticed me before I reached her. My presence was felt before my being. That expression of contempt changed into a slight surprise. ¡°A visitor.¡± Those words didn¡¯t have much behind them, they just rang out in a slight echo. I had the urge to speak, but no words came out. Her silver eyes stared straight into my soul. I don¡¯t know if I was surprised, or unnerved. ¡°Who are you?¡± She asks the first question. Her soft, strangely monotone voice was like music to my ears in the deafening silence. A bit of silence follows her initial response. My heart drops into my stomach. I had no words. This was not a figurative term either, I couldn¡¯t speak. My mouth opened, nothing came out. What the? I lost the ability to speak? My situation is getting even worse. I can¡¯t communicate. I can¡¯t even communicate with what could possibly be my savior. I must look like an idiot, gawking in an attempt to have any sort of projection. The girl confirmed my thoughts, she looked at me like I had three heads, head tilted slightly and all. ¡°Are¡­ you okay?¡± She sounded just as confused as I was, also slightly concerned. I signaled to her (a.k.a. Pointing an X shape with my fingers over my mouth.) to try to get her to understand my situation. ¡°Unable to speak, huh?¡± She got it. ¡°Well, that is quite the predicament. I can tell from your ragged appearance that your time here has not been good, no?¡± Spot on. She is quite perceptive. I shook my head as a response. I suppose body language is my only advantage at this point. She points to a crate: ¡°Can you try writing out what needs to be said on that crate over there. Just pretend.¡± I follow what she asks of me. It¡¯s my best bet. I first write out (imaginarily, of course): ¡°Where am I?¡± A simple question, it seems she¡¯s more accustomed to this, well, I don¡¯t know what you would call this place. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. ¡°Ah. I¡¯m not sure myself. I¡¯ve been trapped here for quite a bit and haven¡¯t learned that.¡± Shoot, it seems like we¡¯re both in the same situation. ¡°I also bet that you wanna know how I got here, right?¡± I nod. ¡°Don¡¯t know.¡± Talk about anti climatic. She is very disconcerted compared to me. I walk over to the crate to mime the next message: ¡°What have you been doing?¡± Surely she¡¯s been making some progress towards escaping this place. The ¡°been here quite a bit¡± remark seemed to be no understatement. ¡°Aimlessly wandering, of course. I am just as lost as you are.¡± Great. My only hope is turning into a waste of time at this point. Time for my last question. This one, I¡¯m hopeful it will give a good response. ¡°Who are you?¡± She thinks for a bit: ¡°No clue.¡± Are you kidding me? That response was annoyingly nonchalant. I must be showing off my irritability too much because she followed. ¡°That was not sarcasm.¡± I see. I guess it¡¯s understandable. I can¡¯t even remember my own name after all. Judging from our very similar situations, she most likely came here the same way I did and may suffer from the same problems, minus my missing voice. She starts to speak again: ¡°Well, I imagine there aren''t many questions that I could give conclusive answers to, so shall we go?¡± She basically shut down any further signals from me. I try to get her attention for one more question. She takes notice of my silent calls. I draw out my final question for her: ¡°What should I know you as?¡± Obviously, I can¡¯t call out her name, but it would be nice to know. She answers immediately, as if she was awaiting that question. ¡°Well, since I can¡¯t seem to remember my own name¡­ give me one.¡± Such a responsibility to be given to me. Especially since I have a feeling we¡¯ll be around each other for a while. I think for a minute, and write out an idea. It¡¯s simple, but it will work. ¡°Gin.¡± A bit simple, I couldn¡¯t come up with anything better. ¡°Gin, eh? Sounds good to me.¡± Strangely relieving, ¡°I suppose I should give you one too. Even if you know it, you can¡¯t speak it.¡± I didn¡¯t, but fair point. I patiently await her response. After a small bit of silence, she speaks. ¡°Kin.¡± Very creative¡­ but I suppose it works. I nod in confirmation. ¡°Alright Kin, I suppose you are trying to get out as well, huh?¡± She¡¯s right. ¡°Well, I suppose we should start looking for some way out of here. Let¡¯s go.¡± She wastes no time to start. She hops off the crate that she was sitting on and begins trekking in a random direction. It seems that Gin shares the same nescience that I do, so I doubt there¡¯s much we can do to increase our odds of escaping. That being said, I now have an ally. There¡¯s much comfort to be found in knowing you''re no longer alone. Ch. 3: We walk. It is pretty easy to tell someone¡¯s mood or disposition just by the way one walks. Gin was no different, the strange sway that she gave didn¡¯t give any signs of someone at a complete loss unlike me. She seemed so carefree, but I suppose there wasn¡¯t much to worry about in a sea of nothing like where we are. I could tell something quite clear, though. I could tell that she had no clue what to do either. Our walking was intermittent with her turning her head at the shelves, looking for some clues for our next step. My clear thought further became validated soon after: "I have no idea where we''re going." Yep, that''s what I was waiting for. I have no idea what to do, either. Everything was the same, the lack of direction was getting old very fast. Time seemed to move at a snail''s pace. The chatting along our long trek was surrounded in auras of awkwardness. I have no clue why I lost my voice. Despite it being a major setback that is going to plague this entire journey, I haven¡¯t thought about it too much, much to my unknowing chagrin. Obviously, figuring out why I have no voice right now is the utmost of priorities, just as much as finding our way out. ¡°So do you know why you lost your voice?¡± Gin was evidently thinking the same thing as I was, and understandably so. I shook my head in response. ¡°That is quite an oddity if I¡¯d say so myself. If we weren¡¯t in this predicament we are in right now, I might¡¯ve not believed you.¡± I don¡¯t blame her for being suspicious, but there also is no reason I would lie to my knowledge. ¡°Well the lack of voice will have to wait for another time, because right now we are just as lost as when we started.¡± We continued walking. I am unsure how much time has passed, but after a while, Gin decided to stop for a quick break. The pain of walking such long distances is still as much of a burden as ever. Gin looks as if she has something to say. ¡°So it has been quite obvious so far that walking for however long has gotten us nowhere. I believe we should stop meandering and start interacting with our environment.¡± While a smart idea, like, where do we start? Gin immediately turns to one of the wooden crates on the shelf. ¡°Maybe our clue is inside one of these boxes¡± she says, standing up to inspect the crate. All of the crates were seemingly hollow at first touch. Perhaps, though, what we were looking for was less of a material and more of a message. Much to our surprise, these crates were very loosely enclosed. We didn¡¯t even need any strength put forth to take the tops off. Given our lackluster clues, easily opened crates seemed a little abnormal. Gin slowly opens the crate in suspense; I suspect she does so for dramatic effect. Upon looking in the crate, my suspicion was correct. It was empty. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡°Well,¡± Gin starts to speak. ¡°This isn¡¯t exactly what I was hoping for, yet I¡¯m not surprised." Neither was I, really. Our options are small though so I suppose we shall keep looking through this endless sea of wooden crates. One by one, Gin and I open everyone of these crates in our view looking for any sort of clue. My search has been much in vain, I haven¡¯t seen anything to suggest something to bring us closer to leaving this place. As for Gin¡­ ¡°BANG!¡± I look towards the crashing sound to find Gin on the floor; the crate she was looking in, completely collapsed. I rushed to her aid. ¡°I¡¯m fine, I¡¯m fine.¡± she shakes her head as she gets up. ¡°Anyways, onward.¡± She was seemingly missing the obvious key on the bottom of the crate. A literal key, sitting on the bottom. I wave my hands and start trying to yell for her. Obviously, it doesn''t work, so I sprint in her direction. I grab her shoulder and turn her around. She¡¯s cold. My mind flutters, though I am not sure why. She stares at me with a slight surprise on her face. I try to point in the right direction. She regains her calm composure quickly. ¡°I suppose I am to follow you?¡± I nod in conformation. I walk her to the crate and point to the key on the bottom. ¡°What?¡± Gin looks a little bewildered. I keep motioning towards it. Her bewilderment keeps seemingly growing. I look at where I am pointing. It¡¯s still there. What, can she not see it? I see it plain as day, but she remains ignorant to its presence. I pick up the cold, brass key and hold it up to her face. She backs up and looks at my fingers. ¡°Is this some kind of joke?¡± She doesn¡¯t see it. I take the and hold it between my index fingers. At that moment, her expression changed to one of concern. ¡°I see, so I can¡¯t see the thing you''re holding, huh?¡± This wasn¡¯t the answer I was looking for. She couldn¡¯t see what may very well be the ticket out of here. ¡°Well, this is quite the conundrum. First, your ability to speak is taken away. Now, I can¡¯t even see key items that will help us out.¡± This is frustrating to say the least. It¡¯s almost like we are opposites trying to work together. Let¡¯s just recap the problem here. I cannot talk but can see the important key items we need to find in order to escape, Gin cannot see the important key items, yet she can speak. This is most certainly a game of sorts. Our hampered abilities were deliberately chosen, yet we don¡¯t know from whom. ¡°Well Kin, it seems we are probably going to have to rely on each other more than I thought.¡± Gin¡¯s tone seems a lot more optimistic than I am. I nodded in conformation. ¡°So for now, we are going to have to work together. Our woes would be too great for us to deal with on our own.¡± Her words are almost like a sigh of relief to me. Thinking about how seemingly hopeless this scenario is, her vague optimism brings a little comfort. While the opposites for us may seem like a huge complication, really it isn¡¯t much of a problem if there is both of us. For now though, we must focus on the task at hand. In the shadow of the small confidence boost, we direct our attention to the key. The key in question is unremarkable to say the least. It has two teeth, no distinct marks, metal, brownish color, looks exactly what I would imagine a stereotypical key would look like. The key looks like it won¡¯t lead us to where we need to use it. ¡°Any ideas, Kin?¡± Gin seemingly doesn¡¯t have any of her own. I remember back to the doors that were walled off. It was peculiar and obviously seems a little asinine, but it¡¯s not like we have many options to begin with. Keys open doors, so maybe we could give it a shot. I motion Gin to follow me. ¡°So you have an idea? Ok, do show me.¡± I nod, turn on my heel, and start walking. Time to venture back into the void. Ch. 4: We search. It¡¯s very awkward when you don¡¯t have anything to talk about. Neither of us remember our names, our past memories, only just basic human instinct. My lack of vocals is also not helping the atmosphere. Because of this, these long and aimless walks are most often in silence, the only sound heard being Gin¡¯s boots behind me hitting the ground and our breathing. Nonetheless, we make it to the wall with the doors. Despite the fact the doors were unlocked when I first found them, they all had keyholes on them. I take the key and ready it to be inserted into the keyhole. I look behind me to find Gin, cleared out of the way of the door and covering behind a crate. I don¡¯t blame her to be honest, I¡¯d be really suspicious too. Inserting the key in the door and turning it, I hear a click. The euphoric rush of finally progressing causes me to swing the door open extremely fast. That feeling quickly dissipates. It was still walled off with concrete. Gin starts to speak, ¡®Well, this is very peculiar.¡± She sounds a bit disappointed. She starts to look around and down the line of doors. ¡°There are numerous doors besides this one, let¡¯s just explore our options.¡± Gin is right, we can¡¯t give up just yet. So we continued looking for the right door. The key fit all of the keyholes for some reason. Each door gave that satisfying click as I turned the key. Unfortunately though, that¡¯s the only redeeming thing about this, because they were all dead ends. All of them were covered with the same solid concrete wall. Gin was very obviously annoyed by this. She was probably growing impatient, as was I. After a long while of searching doors, we started finding doors already opened. The doors were all covered by the same walls. It was almost as if someone was telling us that it wasn¡¯t going to happen. That¡¯s when I heard a long sigh from my ally. Gin was looking at a crate on the shelf for a bit. I¡¯m not sure what was so interesting about it, it just looked like all the others. After a bit of staring, she turns to me. ¡°I¡¯m afraid this area is not as big as we hoped.¡± I was confused by this remark, but she continued. ¡°The crate over there is moved, it is no longer straight. Someone moved it, and this mystery person was me.¡± I felt a pit in my stomach open. We were in a loop. The room was infinitely looping. This place cannot be real. An infinitely looping room, how fantastical. Given the events that have happened, it¡¯s not like it is impossible to be the reality though. While this indeed narrowed down our search to a smaller area, it also meant that where we were was much more inhuman than we thought. I¡¯m not sure how to process this revelation. Gin is lost in thought. ¡°Let¡¯s not let this grim scenario deter us. We must escape one way or another.¡± I suppose we shall continue our search for the way out. Obviously, the doors were not the way. The looping room has cut that out of the equation. The key must be for something else.There is no way the only hint we have found so far is a red herring, I refuse to believe so. I look around to scout out any other ideas. The floors are tiled, with no sight of any secret compartments or anything of the sort. The ceiling is no different, solid concrete with no clues. Our ticket out of here was being obfuscated. Seems like we would have to be meticulous to get out of here. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Gin¡¯s first idea was the crates again, it''s a lot of crates, but if we go through all of them there may be more hidden. We go on the shelves closest to us to start looking. I immediately hear a loud bang from behind. Damn it she fell again. I look behind me to find Gin on the floor once again. The crate she had crumbled had nothing in it. ¡°Maybe I should leave the crate opening to you¡­¡± She was clearly winded from the fall. I nodded in confirmation. The situation seemed almost comical, but it is what it is. I helped her up. I started walking towards the next crate as she followed. This was definitely a tedious process, especially since we were not so sure there would be anything else here. Crate after crate, still hadn¡¯t found anything useful inside the boxes. Eventually, we reached the loop point once again. The space we were in had about 20 shelves; this was going to take a long while. Gin and I sat on one of the shelves to brainstorm. What are we to do? It¡¯s not like we have anything better to do so we are going to have all the time in the world to explore this place, but it isn¡¯t much help if we don¡¯t know what we are looking for. The concrete covered doors were a no go, there has been nothing in the crates so far, both vertical sides of the room were plain. Our leads are sparse. My period of being lost in thought was interrupted by a loud bang. Oh gods she¡¯s done it again. I look in front of me, there¡¯s a crate on the floor and another bang. I look at the bang again to find Gin pushing the next crate over. It appears some drastic measures are being taken. It¡¯s not like I can say anything about it. I get up and follow her, looking at the bottoms of the destroyed crates for clues. The room was filled with the deafening sound of wood crashing to the floor. It was barbaric, but it seems we have run out of options. The two of us slowly made our way through the numerous shelves, knocking over the crates. The destruction of the crates was strangely relieving. It felt like it was a way to take out our frustration against our unfortunate situation. The ground is littered with the mess we were causing. Shelf after shelf, I followed behind Gin, looking at the bottoms of the wood for any sorts. Our efforts have so far proven to be a waste of time. It looks like we needed to think outside of the box. The area is not limitless, so there has to be something. Neither of us would be sent here for no reason, especially due to some strange circumstances. Gin¡¯s first thought was to go up. There was a spacing between the ceiling, big enough for her to fit on. She pointed to my shoulders, she most likely couldn¡¯t climb up it herself. I was embarrassed to say the least, and I am not really sure why. I guess someone you just met only a short while ago using you as a human ladder is something to be ashamed of. I get down on my knees so she can climb on. Her weight is¡­ feather light. Perhaps I have more strength than what I would think based on my physique, but Gin was incredibly light. I wouldn¡¯t say inhumanly so, just lighter than what I expected. The shelves were not too difficult to traverse for her. She seemed relatively agile, plus the shelves were not exceedingly tall. Just me standing straight while she stood on my shoulders was enough for a little jump to grab hold of the very top. She turns herself around and sits on the top. ¡°It doesn¡¯t seem much different than what I expected. The horizon is still covered by the same darkness as down there¡± Gin¡¯s voice echoes through the void. The ceiling unfortunately doesn¡¯t lead us anywhere. Solid concrete, not any sort of tile that would be able to be pushed through or broken. I really don¡¯t think there was much help in doing this. Gin appeared to share my train of thought, as she started to wiggle herself off the top. ¡°Catch me, will you?¡± And that¡¯s when Gin stops, and looks ahead. Her pupils widen, showing an emotion hard to describe. ¡°I hear something.¡± I look in her general direction in a split second. Something was making a sound, the first sound made that was not of our own accord. The sound? A low rumbling moan.