Trapped.

You wander the halls.

It’s silent, your steps do not echo.

You feel inverted, like you are not in the real world, everything is in shades of grey, like something took the life out of it all.

You steadily pace towards the balcony overlooking the dreary ballroom. It’s big enough that you can’t see the ceiling, only the moonlight through the gaping holes drapes around the room.

You breath in and out, a silvery mist exiting you a cooling lazily upwards.

A faint wind stirs the still room. The curtains waved languidly while cobwebs held firm rocking back and forth in the dilapidated area.

You grip the banister. Everything seems to stop before your take a breath in-

CRUNCH

The banister was crumpled from where you grabbed it.

You felt a faint sting in your hand before your sense of touch went back to the numb feeling of static running through you.

You brought your palm up to your face as a strip of moonlight cut through the dark illuminating your eyes and face.

You inspect the pale grey skin that is smeared with black. You know it’s blood.

Your see a glint in the far corner and slowly cocked your head to the left.

There was a mirror, cracked and broken, scattered pieces littering the ground and glinting when viewed in the right lighting.

You slowly stalked towards the lingering reminder. Glass crunched under your feet as you came up to it.

It looked to have been a beauty in the past, it still was, but now where it would have stood proud, framed in ivory and silver, ebony and charcoal, it looked like it was hollowed out. A lingering feeling of melancholy and despondence. Cracks were spread through it from a hole in the top right corner. Warping the reflection.

And you were there, Warped and twisted, how poetic. You were there with your black styled hair and slight stubble on grey skin, with eyes a starless void sunken on the face of something dead.

For that’s what you are. Your torn dress shirt and suit jacket say all. The rips and tears, with black Ichor oozing from them, littered your body like a map of roads. But to follow them, would lead you there.

There! The place, the nowhere, the other, the in between, the gateway, the past, the present, the future, and the before. The place where the void howls and chaos is order, and order chaos.

It likes the appearance of a mansion. One with spires of steel and walls of stone.

You drag your finger up, up, up. You trace the mirror, almost able to see a better time. In your mind, the scene behind you was different, full of parties and others talking, and-

...

Them...

You should hate them.

They trapped you here.

Wandering since the end, and until the beginning. To the left to arrive to the right.

Right was wrong and wrong was backwards.

Nothing is something, all for you.