I’m simply walking through the hills and the grass is gradually turning to a more purple hue. I keep walking and come across one of the strangest buildings I’ve ever seen. It’s tall and checked, one window and one doorway with stairs leading up.

It’s so bizarre.

The first time I came across the tower I was rightfully hesitant. I heard the stories growing up, that it was beyond explanation and comprehension and as deep as my imagination goes I never could have prepared myself for what happened after that first step. My eyes flooded over, my body began to weaken and wither. Fear; my steps turn to leaps, leaps into bounds, I’m dying. The world vibrates around be as blast of through the corridor. As I ascend higher the walls and steps separate and break away from reality and the room becomes everything. Love crashes over me like waves of warm magma as I make my way to the door. It’s locked.

“Wow,” the words blew out softly into the wind.

“Now that is a sight…”

I couldn't believe my eyes. The hill blended from green and became barren, about a hundred yards away from the most vivid scenery I've ever seen.

Fields of lavender smothered the ground upon the hill. Surrounding a tall, thin checkered building standing erect with a shiny gold window.

I Could not wrap my head a how people were able to reach the top of this building. Even though the stairs started from the doorless open entrance of the building.

As I stood there, mesmerised by the breathtaking sight before me, I couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder and curiosity. The air was filled with the soothing scent of lavender, carried by a gentle breeze that rustled through the fields.

I took a hesitant step forward, drawn by the allure of the checkered building. The golden window glinted in the sunlight, casting a warm glow that contrasted beautifully with the surrounding purple expanse. As I approached, I noticed an intricate mosaic of black and white squares adorning the walls, seemingly moving across the inside of the building.

The stairs inside the entrance of the building beckoned me, their narrowing contrasted by the vastness of the landscape. With each step, the anticipation within me grew, fueled by a mix of awe and curiosity. Who had built this marvel? Why was it created?

Upon reaching the entrance, I hesitated for a moment, taking in the view from this newfound vantage point. The world stretched out below, a patchwork of fields and forests, with the distant hum of a bustling village. With a deep breath, I stepped inside.

As I stepped through the entrance, an unexpected sensation swept over me. The interior seemed to stretch out in all directions, far beyond the confines of the checkered building's exterior. It was as if I had entered a realm where space itself was distorted, creating an optical illusion of grand proportions.

The hallway ahead seemed to elongate infinitely, lined with mesmerizing patterns that seemed to shift and change as I walked. Stained glass windows reached impossibly high, casting whites and deep shades of black on the walls, dancing and melding into tiny intricate designs almost invisible to the eye. Each step I took felt like a journey into the unknown, with the boundaries of reality and imagination blending seamlessly.

Curious and slightly bewildered, I followed the seemingly endless corridor, my footsteps echoing faintly in the vast space. Along the way, I encountered chambers that defied logic, expanding into rooms of unfathomable dimensions. Paintings adorned the walls, their perspectives and dimensions distorted in ways that challenged my perception of reality.

The air itself felt different here, carrying whispers of stories and secrets that seemed to resonate with the very walls. Books lined shelves that stretched impossibly high, their pages holding knowledge from realms unknown. I ran my fingers across the spines, feeling a sense of reverence for the wisdom contained within.

As I ascended the stairs toward the upper levels, the optical illusion continued to play tricks on my senses. The view from the windows showed scenes that defied the laws of physics, with landscapes that extended beyond what the exterior of the building should have allowed. It was a breathtaking panorama of beauty and wonder, a testament to the power of perception and imagination.

Huge white spaces that converted into gardens. Trees and bushes with black leaves, and black flowers. The darkness sat in the almost sparkling white vast spaces. My jaw hung open at the sight, as purple drips began falling from the White spaces surrounding the staircase. I began walking up, reaching my hand out to the purple water that replicated rain, and smelt of lavender. It was as if this place existed in a reality of its own, a space where the limits of what could be imagined stretched beyond the horizon.

In that moment, I realised that this checkered building wasn't just a structure; it was an experience, a journey into the realm of perception and possibility. It taught me that appearances could be deceiving, that reality was malleable, and that the wonders of the mind could transcend the confines of space and time, and it didn't end there…

As I walked down the long stretch of land, as I did every evening, I noticed something strange. A tall building with black and white checkered design and a yellow window.

I felt mesmerized by the scene, almost hypnotized. I walked up the stairs, leading to a room you could not see from the outside. This feeling got stronger and stronger. The room was filled with people bowing down, one one knee with their hand over their hearts. “All hail the mighty being.”

I felt a sharp pain take over my body, as I fell to the ground. I tried to fight every urge In my body to not give in. NO NO. I said repeatedly In my head. But the more I said no the more the voice in the back of my head kept saying YES.

I got on one knee, hand over my heart, saying “all hail the mighty being.” It’s like I knew what I was doing, I was conscious of my physical body, but not my mental body. I couldn’t stop, I couldn’t control my body.

I could feel myself slowly losing my mind.

The map shows mile after mile of aimless streams, shapeless gradients, and tumbledown field boundaries. No tower. No landmark. Except here it is

"Some mad billionaire built a folly then?", I speak to it, eyeing the entrance in case anyone emerges. But there's just the wind and a grouse calling somewhere

The tower is in the middle of a peat bog where only those stupid enough to take a shortcut across Haverton Moor would find it. It is in a natural hollow, probably a mud lake in winter, just boggy now, all long grasses and reeds and thick tufts of moss underfoot losing their colour in the evening light. The landscape seems to be turning grey. I tuck my map, which had become increasingly useless as I had become increasingly lost, into a pocket

The outside of the tower is a three storey chessboard of black and white tiles. All spotless and gleaming, loftily ignoring the miles of sucking mud that surround it. Gold glitters around the high window, catching the setting sun. The window is at the top of the tower, and I am at the bottom, in front of an entrance with grey steps spiralling up out of sight. It was... what? Mock Arabian? Pseudo MC Esher? Inventive at least. The billionaire was very inventive, or mad, or weird. There are probably cameras watching me, CCTV, or a waiting television crew

"Anyone in?", I call, "Do you do food?". Not serious. Definitely not afraid, because I'm making a joke, and that proves I'm not afraid. The sunlight has gone from the top of the tower now and down in the hollow there's a chill that curls around me. I step forward, and again

The tower has a smell of age, a sandy smell of a school trip to Callersey Castle, or some other ruin. It doesn't look old though. Everything is smooth and polished, the painted steps clean and unscuffed. My heart is beating hard and I've barely started climbing. It's not the climb that makes my stomach churn. I check behind me and the miles of bog are still there, but darker and darker, grey and with a mist seeming to rise out of it

Stupid, just tired and hungry and stupid. I think of David from quality control, the way he taps a pen against his mouth when thinking, looking down. I could tell him about this place, then... Then he'd ask, "what were you doing on the moors on Saturday night? On your own?", and in his eyes I see myself

Weird. Stupid. Weird. Lost.

I keep climbing and it gets dark, really dark. There's no light in front and none from behind, lost amongst the spiral staircase like spirits in a witch mark and my hands and feet feel their way and the air seems to thicken and a panic rises in my chest but I don't trust myself to turn round now and I have to keep on going up and up and what if there's a locked door and what if I slip and fall and what if

Light. There's light

"Really should put in some lighting ... and a handrail ... and some rest stops ... with a well-stocked bar"

Because I'm not scared, definitely not. There is a door half open with a dim light coming down the grey walls of the staircase. I stop and catch my breath before going through to the small room. I'm at the top of the tower. The floor and ceiling are black, the walls white. I can't work out if they are painted or if it's some kind of weird dyed wood. The door is a chessboard of white and black

"So you like chess then?", my voice is too loud for the room

There's a white bench, or maybe a low table, with some black blankets piled up on it. The window is opposite, the sill almost at floor level, dangerously low and I don't want to go near it that in this gloom. Nothing else in the room. No sign it's been used, the blankets are clean. Maybe it's a shelter just for a this sort of thing. People getting lost

There's a bolt on the door and that makes my mind up. The bolt slides smoothly across and the door is closed and locked. It's a weird kind of B and B but not bad. A couple of blankets on the floor make a bed, they are softer than they look and feel warm. For my evening meal I drink the last of my water, stomach gently worrying for the food that's all gone. My rucksack is a pillow and other blankets swaddle me

I can see stars through the window. Then an animal sound. Bird probably. And now just the wind and the sound of water. Another aimless stream. No chatter of traffic and sirens and the thrum of the city. Just the wild. After a while, I realise I'm happier than I've been in a long time. There's a warmth in the blankets. A light breeze brings sweet pure air. A hope

And then I sleep

I wake and it's morning, a car is sounding its horn outside and the horn goes on and on, but I feel the blankets and touch the smooth floor see the black and white and it's not a car horn, too broad for that, fills the room with a gentle sonorous call. I should be hungry but the sound of the horn fills my stomach. It is morning and the sky is blue

"What's that...?"

The sky is blue but the glittering trunks that spiral up through it are golden. Great twisting limbs in the distance, specks swim around them. Not birds, but things that move with slow grace. I blink, confused about this view that doesn't make sense. Stumbling to the window, a falling feeling in my stomach. Outside is water. Lapping against the bottom of the window. A lake. And a black and white walkway jags from the window to a far shore. No bog or grassy moor. The edge of the lake is lined with small trees, movement in them and beyond them. No reeds but darting colourful birds. And shapes like people walking this way and that. And the horn sound ebbs away to be replaced by softer sounds carried by the wind and my own voice

"No no no..."

My world sways as my mind bucks against what my eyes are seeing. I am dreaming. The golden frame of the window feels cool and smooth and solid. I am hallucinating. There is a gentle lap of water against the tower, a flicker of triangular shapes dart underneath the surface of the lake. It's some trick. On the rippling surface is a reflection of the great trunks that stretch up from the horizon into the sky. Outside the window is the cool air of morning. There is a shape approaching along the walkway from the shore, a person walking unhurried. The walkway zigzags, but I can see they are coming to the tower. Coming towards me. I jump back into the room with a shout like the window has burnt my hands and eyes

It takes moments to throw things back into my bag. I slide the bolt and slam the door aside. Leave the room. Get out. Wake up. Get away. I go down the steps. My footsteps clatter along with my heart. Let me out. Let me out. Let me out.

Into the darkness again I slow, go slower, go carefully, don't want to fall, stay on the outside of the spiral, feet reach for the next step, hands bracing against the wall, the air thickens like black water, but I have to go down, and then I stumble

I stop, shaking

My mother died last year. David asked about my holiday and I said it was nice. The pen bouncing on his lips. I had to stop reading the eulogy halfway through, I couldn't see the page anymore, my tears getting the paper wet. I said I went to the coast with friends, said it was great, and saw myself in his eyes. I didn't say that everything had gone and that I was lost

I stop

If I keep going down they will bolt the door behind me. I know this. If I keep going down there will be mile after mile of grey bog and aimless streams and when I get home I will still be lost, and all there will be will be a tapping of a pen and my reflection and a grey life in a grey city and grey and grey and grey

Stop

My breathing loud in my ears. The walls hard and smooth, my hands shaking. I stare ahead into nothing, and behind me. Behind me was something wonderful and strange and different. Black and white and black and white. Laughter and tears and happiness and fear and anything but grey. The door might be still open. If I can get back in time. I am touching unfinished grey walls and I know at the top of the stairs is a door that is grey on one side and a chessboard of black and white on the other. And there is a walkway with a person walking on it and I could meet them and not run away and walk on the black and the white and look to the blue sky and the glittering golden trunks twisting up into space

And I turn from the darkness and grey and climb the stairs as fast as I can

A briny breeze drifted up from the heather tousling my Titian curls. Always when my soul is in torment, I sought the savage beauty of the moors. Duke Reginald has discharged Mr. Morgan, my art tutor and my heart’s desire.

I implored the Duke that I was his ward not his property. He bellowed in rage and I ran into the cool arms of the night. Chill winds slapped my burning tears as my feet headed for Moonstone Hill.

Head down I marched forward then I saw it. Strangely sleek, a tower of ebony and pearl sprang from the hill before me. I fell to my knees in wonderment. The structure was two stories tall but only a carriage wide. Adorning the top, a small jonquil yellow window like an all seeing eye. Despite the hammering of my heart, I had to explore.

Against reason I approached. I touched the supernaturally smooth surface. The tower opened its gaping maw. Then the world turned black.

I awoke to a cool towel on my forehead. A pair of ladies in weird men’s garb bent over me. I screamed.

“Good no one sick could yell that loud,” the fair one said.

“We are so sorry. This was never supposed to happen. Trish I told you bargain time travelling AirBnB is never a bargain. We could have given this kid a heartache,” the swarthy one shouted.

The fair one called Trish hung her head.

“Deena my love if I say you were right and I was wrong can we fast forward through this argument? Help me get her out of the dirt. Would you like some bottled water or a Coke?”

Gently they lifted me.

“No thank you my lady. I have no need of cocaine. Have you come to capture me? What is this magic?”

“You handle this and I am going to grab her some water and something for her dress.”

Deena the dark beauty hurried into the magical tower. Her fair companion scratched at her chin.

“Umm yeah we are magical creatures and we mean you no harm. We are just having technical difficulties. What are you doing here?”

“Dear weird sisters tell me what to do? Should I elope with Desmond or accept my Duke’s choice Viscount Cartwright?” Implored flinging myself to the witch’s breeches.

Trish grasped.

“Oh honey, how old are you? Do you have to get married?” Deena asked.

“I’m nearly seventeen, lady. What am I to do? Tell me my future.”

Merriment danced in the gentlewomen’s eyes. I looked from one to the other and despite my shattered heart I felt a heaviness lift from my spirit. My future unfurled as wide as the untamed moors.

We finally came across the large structure. There was no door to the building and only one window peering out. People have been coming here, trying to uncover the mysteries of this place. But it seems those who have tried never came back home. My friends and I were determined to uncover the truth.

“I can’t believe we found it!” Mika exclaimed. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand.

I plopped down on the grass, tired from lugging the camera equipment up the hill. I glanced around at our surroundings, trying to understand how this place just randomly appeared. Where did it even come from?

“We should get inside while it’s still daylight!”

Standing up, I pulled out two cameras and passed one to Mika. I turned my camera to face me and presses record.

“My name is Harley Prescott! I’m joined by my associate, Mika Crowley, to uncover the truth about the mysterious building on a hill.”

Turning off the camera, I turned to see Mika getting exterior shots of the building.

“Ready to go in?” I asked him.

He nodded yes. I turned the camera back on and started climbing the stairs. We stepped onto a hallway at the top of the stairs. I’m no architect, but the hallway appeared to be longer than the actual building!

“Strange!” I commented aloud.

“What’s with the doors?” Mika asked.

On either side of the hallway were doors that alternated between the colors orange, yellow, and lime green. I walked up to the first orange door to my left. Mika went to the yellow door on the opposite side. Twisting the doorknob, I stepped inside an empty room. The only thing in it was a lone chair placed in the middle of the room. Exiting the room, I decided to enter the room Mika went into. I reached for the knob only to realize that it was gone!

Banging on the door, I yelled out to Mika. No answer. Thinking he’d moved farther down the hall, I yelled out again.

“Mika!”

My voice echoed off the walls of the empty hall. Still, I got no answer. I turned back towards the stairs, hoping he could be outside getting some air. I stopped and stared at the place where the stairs should have been. Instead, more hallway stretched beyond. Where the hell did the stairs go? I pulled out my cell phone to call Mika. Panic rose in my throat as I glanced down at the screen and saw that there was no service.

“Harley! Harley!”

Mika’s voice called out for me, sounding panicked. I was coming from behind me farther up the hall. I ran towards Mika’s frightened voice.

“Harley!”

I stopped in front of a lime green door to my left. Mika’s voice was coming from in there. I opened the door and dropped the camera in fear. Hanging from the ceiling was a man. His body was slightly burned, the smell of his burnt flesh hitting my nose making me retch. I crumpled to my knees a few steps away from the burnt man. Tears filled my eyes to the brim. Was this what became of the people who explored this place? And where the hell was Mika? A sob racked my chest. I wish I had never come here!

i don’t know how long i’ve been walking. my home was screaming in agony whenever i was around and the hills in the heavens were shouting my name and it’s not like it all matters so i’ve been walking.

and oh lord, i think i’ve been here before these walls are tiled with my life these whispers come from ghosts of people i haven’t seen in a long long time

sweet satan, i think i feel whole because i smell the old, dirty house and i hear the springs in my mattress because i taste our classic, velvety flan and i’m looking into faces long forgotten

honey, you wouldn’t believe this place or maybe it’s all you can fathom but i’ve found all that’s left behind and i’ve found our past rhythm.

“Do you see that,” I ask Jeff, pointing ahead of us.

He squints his eyes and shakes his head, “see what?”

“There’s a tower a looming in the sky.”

He looks at me with concern, “Alice, have you been taking your medicine?”

“I promise you I’m more sane now than I’ve ever been before.”

“Alice. . . There’s no tower there.”

I turn around to look back up at it and sure enough it’s still here, it didn’t go anywhere. “I’m going to investigate with or without you.”

Once upon a time, Jane and Peter found a tower in the hills behind their parents’ cottage. It shot high into the sky, and the walls were covered with white and black squares, the paint was glossy, and the afternoon sun made it twinkle and glitter. There was a single entrance, a flight of stairs that led into darkness, and above that was a window, also full of darkness with an elegant trim of gold.

Jane wanted to turn around and return to their cottage, she wanted nothing to do with the tower and the mere sight of it sent a shiver down her spine. They'd navigated this area behind their cottage before, and there was never a tower. Where did it come from? Why was it here? She insisted that they return home, pulling on her older brother's arm, doing everything she could to deviate his attention from the mysterious tower.

Peter on the other hand was mesmerized by the tower, stricken with adventurous curiosity. He made his way through the grass toward the dark entryway with its mysterious flight of stairs. Peter walked toward the tower despite his sister's best efforts to restrain him.

Jane fought and fought, and Peter continued to resist. Eventually, she had no choice but to follow her brother into the tower and up the flight of stairs. Lights illuminated the stairs, as though aware of their arrival. Jane watched as each stair lit up, each with a different vibrant color. Red, blue, green, pink, orange...every color of the rainbow led them higher and higher into the mysterious tower.

The siblings continued up the flight of stairs until they made it to a large platform shrouded in darkness. At the far end of the platform was a singular cone of light, and under that cone was a portly man. Standing there, with his hands behind his back, seemingly awaiting their arrival.

"Step forward Peter and Jane. There is no need to be afraid."

His voice boomed off the empty walls, he didn't sound scary at all...in fact, he sounded inviting, almost friendly. Jane's hands wrapped around her brothers, squeezing tight from the fear that consumed her body. Peter stepped forward, and for the first time, Jane realized that he was moving with caution.

"Who are you?" Peter questioned. "How do you know our names?"

"I'm Mr. Fickle," replied the man with a smile. "And I know everyone's names. Again, please approach, and don't be afraid."

Jane was able to make out Mr. Fickle's features as they neared. He wore a green suit, with a white trim, it looked as though it barely fit his round and tubby figure. He had pink hair that was parted at the center, going left and right before ending in swirls. He had a twirly mustache as well, one that covered most of his mouth. His eyes were sky blue, much like the sky that they'd left behind just moments ago.

"Where are we?" Jane questioned, her voice sounding small.

Mr. Fickle's eyes smiled at them, it was warm and inviting. "Well you're in the Tower of Dreams, yes you are."

"Tower of Dreams?" Peter questioned.

Mr. Fickle nodded. "Indeed. Here you will be able to live out your wildest dreams. Big or small, it is here where you can experience them for what they are."

"How?" Jane questioned.

He smiled with his eyes once more and lifted his right hand, high into the sky, fingers poised for a snap.

SNAP SNAP SNAP

The darkness above them illuminated for a split second. Beams of light, more colors of the rainbow swirled above as though the universe was allowed into the tower with them. The colors swirled and swirled, and then each sibling saw everything that they ever wanted, respectively, and for only themselves.

Peter had always wanted to be a stage actor. He peered up and watched with fascination, seeing himself grow and succeed throughout the years. He saw glimmers of fame, a life on stage and adored by thousands. He saw himself in roughly ten years, taking a bow on stage as a sea of roses consumed him. He saw the newspaper articles that praised him for his work. He watched as his older self took to the center stage, brandishing a sword in a duel for a few seconds, before embracing the woman he loved.

Jane's vision was much different. She saw herself with the handsome Prince that she'd read about in her story books. He was masculine with beautiful blonde hair that reached his strong shoulders. She watched as they rode away on their horse, over a bridge just before the most stunning waterfall. She couldn't take her eyes off who she would be in the next ten or fifteen years, how radiant and how beautiful she was. She stared with wide eyes as her two kids, a boy and a girl wrapped their arms around her and her Prince.

"Are those not the dreams you desire?" asked Mr. Fickle.

Both siblings nodded, smiles of wonder spread across their cheeks. Each one was fascinated by the lives they were witnessing above. Peter wanted nothing more than to live out his dream of being a successful stage actor. Jane just wanted to be in the arms of her handsome Prince as they rode off into the sunset.

"Would you two like to experience your dreams?" Mr. Fickle asked.

"Yes," they said in unison.

Mr. Fickle's eyes smiled once more. "Then let's get a move on it, shall we? Peter, let's start with you."

Mr. Fickle stepped forward, his smile not leaving his eyes. "Peter, are you willing to see what your life would be like in the next couple of years?"

Peter nodded.

And then Mr. Fickle's eyes changed from blue to a shiny white, as shiny as the white along the side of the tower. A black swirl formed in the whites of both eyes, spinning around and around at a hypnotic speed.

"Then step into my eyes, so you can see the life that you want," Mr. Fickle said.

"Step into your eyes?" Peter questioned.

"Yes, good sir. Step into my eyes." Mr. Fickle stepped forward; his eyes hypnotic. "Allow me to help."

Mr. Fickle placed two fingers with his right hand on the bottom of his right eye, and two on the top part. He pulled and pulled, his eye growing bigger and bigger with each pull. Jane could hear his skull snap as it spread apart, she could hear his skin stretch and strain, but Mr. Fickle didn't seem to be in any sort of pain. The black swirl grew larger, and before long it was large enough for Peter to climb in. He turned to his sister and smiled, giving her a reassuring nod before he climbed into Mr. Fickle's right eyeball, before disappearing behind the black swirl.

Jane watched as Mr. Fickle's head returned to its normal size, and then his eyes turned back to sky blue. He smiled at her once more, once again with his eyes. "And now for you Jane...are you ready to get a taste of what it's like to live with a handsome prince?"

Jane nodded.

Mr. Fickle's mouth opened wide, wider than she'd ever seen. She watched as his tongue fell out of his mouth, unrolling from his jaw like a large rug. It landed with a wet plop on the floor, expanding in size and rolling outward toward the tips of her toes. Jane gave him a look of confusion and his eyes told her to climb in. She set a cautious foot on Mr. Fickle's tongue, she could feel it squirm around her shoe, and at first, she thought she wouldn't have the stability to climb up Mr. Fickle's tongue. She placed her other foot on Mr. Fickle's tongue and struggled with her balance for a brief moment before gaining her stance, and then she walked across his tongue. And when Jane couldn't walk anymore, she climbed, her hands grasping at Mr. Fickle's tongue, as she climbed upward and into his mouth.

Peter and Jane were never seen again.

The grassy field in which they found the Tower of Dreams is just a field with aged grass.

There was no sign of a Tower of Dreams or a Mr. Fickle.

The sibling's mysterious disappearance was anything but a dream...but a Nightmare come to life.