Twisted Dreams

🟥 Telephone

Your phone rings, echoing down the rusty metal hallway. Red light with no visible source illuminates the maze from high up. There is no ceiling.

"Hello?"

"Follow."

"What?" Sweat slowly trails down your spine.

"Follow." The call clicks, and ends.

You look up. What was once a hallway is now a wall made of the same rusty corrugated metal. A window that leads to darkness reflects your warped face. Greasy hair. Shaking eyes.

You turn around. The hallway is back, longer than before. You walk, limping. The red walls morph and scream. You blink, and they become metal again.

A doorway to your right opens, screeching. Glaring, accusing, angry eyes glare at you. Their shadow bodies shiver. The door slams shut. Sweat drips down your neck, your spine, the backs of your knees, like long, trailing fingers.

The leg that limps vanishes, and you fall to the floor with a cry. You never land.

~•°•°---------------------

"Follow." The radio says.

It sits on the wooden table you're standing in front of. The walls are made of black brick, this time. Sickly greenish yellow light shines; it makes your head pound.

"FOLLOW!!" The radio screams. You gasp, shuddering and arching away. You're knocked backwards. You never land.

~•°•°---------------------

You sit up. A key tumbles out of your pocket and onto the metal grate. It falls through.

You're in a sewer pipe, concrete and round. Darkness. Water rushes up your knees. It drips from the ceiling, landing on your forehead. It burns where it touches.

You stick out your tongue, letting the water drip onto it. It burns. Acid. Your tongue bleeds. You drink the water gratefully.

Red eyes shine onto you, buzzing like old lamps. They nearly touch the curved ceiling, high above. They swing around like spotlights. Then in different directions. The eyes move around in the darkness, rolling and floating away, together, around and around and around and around and ar--

~•°•°---------------------

You wake up.