The Imaginary

Chapter 4: Wrong Ceilings Make Oblivion a Better World Part 2

"Then, the doors you saw might be your own shadow play, Mr. Blackwood. They bounce off the light."

"No, Sir, they’re real doors."

"How will you prove it to me, then, that those are real doors?"

"The ceiling could be a floor?" He didn’t speak more. He was impressed by my last counter.

He closed his eyes, as if sighing, probably in deep thought. Then, in its sleepy open, he turned to Silver. My alien friend was awoken from his lazy float.

"Image." His voice was forced. "Go with the boy. The doors might be the thoughts."

Silver had an apparent reluctance. But he morphed, anyway, into a wispy figure. It hovered erratically, in trembles.

"Off to Julia’s den, Jake. Let us find the good stuff." He entered the diary, which was quarter-opened.

Second time today, I opened the diary, and it flipped itself to some random page. The world zoomed, and I was taken to Oblivion. But it felt different. This was outer space. The squares and rectangles were floating. And stars were here, littered. They made the maze brighter, friendlier.

Soon, the figures started to roll. Swish. Multiple swishes. Then, they boomeranged to their original positions. Bam. Multiple bams. A few nearly hit me. I avoided them by running, with a face distorted of panic. The stars one by one dissolved, not leaving even stains of light. The maze then regained its cold ego.

There was another light source. It was on the ceiling: a reversed wisp the size of about three fists clumped together. It had eyes big enough to occupy half of its body, which was smoky and emitted small particles of smoky white dust, like the fireballs of the tales.

"Hey, Jake!" it called. The voice was familiar. It was Silver’s. Fancy that. So he looked like this here. "What are you doing up there? Get down here!"

Down? Karma acted fast. All this time, I was stuck on the ceiling of this world. I descended, then fell flat on the hard-tiled floor. It felt like metal hitting my head.

"Quite the fall. But, at least, this proves your argument correct. Does that make you, I observe, a happy fellow?"

"That place’s dark. There’s no light. It somehow feels sad. And this, it’s the opposite." The narrow walkway led to the light source, making it warm. "It’s shining."

"Which place, Jake?"

"The ceiling. Or, wait, is this new floor the ceiling? Or that? I’m getting confused."

"Were you hit by the pages and the words?" I wondered what those were. "They often go wild, stubborn Runes. They affect the vague labyrinth deeply."

"You look nice." I was amused. I cracked laughter, but stopped when I heard the creepy echoes. "I didn’t know you could grow eyes as big as those."

He constricted his eyes, like Mr. Clark’s, eyebrow-less face compressed.

"It is positive. They grant me concentrated vision. Now, Jake, we are in Julia’s den. Phantom territory. That means the Phantom can easily get into your vague labyrinth, and show you the very beautiful drawings."

"What’s the deal? I’m a lover of art."

"Art? Is that, I observe, how humans call things hard to understand?"

"Uh, never mind."

We passed four rectangles. The doors were shaking, breathing. My skin, I felt, had turned cold, out of fear and excitement. I was cautious of the hisses that traveled it. When we reached the third pair, I pointed to the door of the right alley.

"Look. There it is. One of the breathing doors."

"Jake, that is not my idea of a door, and you ought to know as well. That is empty space. Well, not truly empty, but that is lifeless. That is not breathing. That is what you humans call a wall, Jake."

"You see a wall? That’s abnormal."

"Trust me. I have concentrated vision." Silver, I think there was something wrong with that.

I started walking towards the door. I didn’t listen to more of Silver’s nags. The voice grew louder, and it was speaking in my head. My hands were alert, as if I had objects seized in them.

"Silver, come close."

"No, Jake, you come back here."

"Don’t be a killjoy. The mystery sense is here." I held the doorknob tightly, turned it. There was no click. "It’s heavy."

Then, I had a new sensation. The weight of a hand, invisible, had placed itself over mine. Turning the doorknob became easier.

The door opened. There was only dark space. Nothingness. I entered, Silver followed. I could see, from a glance, that he was much shocked.

"The wall’s opened, Silver."

"Lovely wall. It is one of a kind."

Inside was a dark path, also a lit one. They converged to form one half-dark, half-lit path; and stretched to empty space, to a doorway figure.

Across that was a room, a well-lit one. It had the same dark adventure feel. I called this the Mirror Room. That name was not special. It was a first-impression thing. It was full of mirrors. Some had faithful reflections. Others, extremely distorted. The wisp by my side had no mirror image.

"Is that normal? You have no reflection."

"I am an Image. I already am a reflection." What did he mean by that? Vague.