[XXIII] - Foreign Abyss

A sudden chill surrounded my whole body, and a new, unknown to me smell appeared, while I was getting deeper into the void. The lights seemed to fade in with every step down, and after a while, there could be barely anything seen around.

Where the hell does it lead to? Knowing the building plan… It there really any space for something hidden deep into it?

After few minutes of walking down the ominous stairs, I felt a solid ground under my feet, no more declining level. Finally, I could straighten my hurting back.

I turned my head to see the entrance I've come from.

But nothing could be seen, just blue lines, losing themselves with the distance. As if I traveled eternity to get here.

And when I faced forwards, there was nothing else but a hollow space of dark matter. Truly nothing could be identified within the eternal shadows of this place. Darker than space itself. The chills of the void rushed through my skin. What more secrets are there to uncover?

When I stepped forwards, I suddenly heard a quiet click to the side of me.

The row of white lights were flashing before me, with the sizzling sound of the electricity in the air, my breath was being held in by me. And then, the most unexpected view came to my eyes.

•••

It was hard to breathe. This…

A room small in size, just a few meters wide and long, with a low ceiling, appeared before my eyes. The walls were covered with a net of long lightning bolt crack marks, creating a beautiful illusion of the stormy sky. They seemed to be very old, and barely standing still.

But most of them were covered. And the things that took almost all of the free space of this extraordinary room, they were the most mysterious ones.

The most magnificent thing about this place, was its…

…content.

Most of the space was filled with just books and loose papers, filling it to its brim. In every corner, tall piles of books were climbing up to the ceiling. Various colors, most of their covers already darkened, different sizes and most of them covered with a thin layer of dust. It appears to me that those weren't moved in a while. But the paper seemed to be just slightly yellow, as if those books counted only a dozen of years.

The papers scattered around, they were more warm colored than the books, but the ink was still readable.

Intrigued by the secretive contents of the papers, I bent over to try to read some of the tiny letters written all over them

The problem was…that the language they were written in didn't seem like the one I knew. Other ones had weird drawings over them, but I couldn't compare them to anything familiar to me.

I tried to get myself to the other side of the room, looking around fascinated, attempting not to step on anything. But this challenge was harder than I thought.

The lights were buzzing in my ears, like the engines of the factories. And something more, working busily like a machine, could be heard above me. But I saw nothing more than white, eye tearing lamps.

The curiosity surrounded my mind and my thoughts. I deeply wondered about the sense of those things. Why on earth are all of those here… Under someone's flat… Was this intentional? All those years… I knew nothing… And this hurt me the most.

Looking around, I wanted to find a single book that wasn't laid in an unstable tower. But every one of them seemed to be a part of something bigger, a true construction of destruction, that would fall apart if the person trying to seize it, didn't know which one to take out first.

With every step, more dust was getting in the air. The flying particles were glowing in the light, like sequins.

I finally reached the other side of the room. Hopefully, I didn't destroy any of the papers with my dirty shoes.

And hidden behind a wall made of books, a wooden desk appeared right before my eyes. It stood right next to the wall, with many darkened photos hung on it. The desk was scattered in papers and a single, brown covered book was laying at the top. It appeared to me as a truly cozy and warm place. It felt calming and soothing.

The view of this was inquisitive. My curiosity pushed me forwards, the chair by the desk was already pulled of it, as if it wanted me to sit on it quickly. I accepted this ominous invitation, and heard the wood crack below me, as I sat down.

I switched on a small, rustic lamp that was on the desk, and everything became hundreds of times clearer to me.

The first thing that brought my attention to it, was a pile of scattered papers, with something written on it with a nice to the eye, curly writing. The letter "H" was especially big and decorated.

"Dr. Hervorr Jr." — Every paper was signed at the bottom. I've never heard of a person like that. Therefore, I could not make any assumptions besides the fact, what these were written all by the same person, and a doctor.

But most of the contents were numbers and words I couldn't understand. Some papers even consisted of only capital letters forming a one big sequence, a babble of nothing. I wonder what these could truly mean, and what all of this was doing just under my home, without me knowing about it.

Another thing that was lying on the papers, was a thick, brown book that I noticed earlier. A one out of order, something I will probably and finally read.

I gently grasped the leather cover of the book, and opened it on its first page.

But the unfamiliarity of the one's language made me suffer again. The title was just the words made in a sentence: "El diario de la princesa castaña." With a font that I have possibly seen somewhere else before. It quarreled with my mind in a battle of memories.

Whatever that could mean, I just wondered deeply. The fact that I had almost no language skills made my brain itch painfully. Why have I always ditched the most important lessons at school?

I turned to another page, ignoring the fact of my lack of knowledge, and tried to identify anything familiar in the words of this lonely book. The rigid paper rustled between my fingers.

Page by page, I was going faster and faster, only to notice that everything in it was written by pen. Every now and then, a set of six numbers was parting the text. The first one started with: "11.11.11" Could these be probably dates? I wouldn't believe this book comes from so long time ago. Or… Could it?

The cute and childish letters the text was written with, and mysterious drawings were filling the first part of the book. But then a chasm appeared, and the writing style evolved into an elegant and simple letters, out of nowhere. They were getting smaller and smaller with every page. The sketches disappeared too. Did the authors change? Did the writer worry about the space this book held? Or maybe something else was at his mind, when finally after quickly riffling all the pages with text, the ones with mostly numbers and a few words appeared. Most of them were written in a growing order, but I couldn't grasp the meaning behind them either. And next to every one of them, either two of those words appeared: "éxito" and "malogro". With the first one finally dominating the further pages. From time to time, additional notes were scribbled, but I could tell nothing from them. It's all a hurtful mystery to me. What is this all for and about?

And after going over around five hundred pages, and noticing nothing especially weird, I came to the last page. It was the clearest, and whitest one. After the reappearing cycle of numbers, finally a larger batch of text appeared. But in contrast to the previous letter, these seemed to be written in nerves in hurry. Four full pages were written like that, when the final letter cut off suddenly:

"Lo lamento..."

I read those words out loud. But the moment they came out of my mouth, I could swear that rumbling sounds came from a distance. But when I held my breath to listen more closely, nothing more than itching silence could be felt.

…

Below the broken letter, a small metal thing was shining in my eyes.

A little silver key, that I didn't feel below all of those pages.

I grabbed it carefully with my shaking hand, and thought, where could it possibly fit into?

Looking around, looking for a lock of some kind, I found that the desk had a drawer below the point of the view. Could this possibly be it?

I slowly moved the key to the narrow gap, and felt a spark of satisfaction, when it fitted perfectly, and turned around smoothly.

The noise of the unlock traversed the air, and the drawer let itself go on its own.

The inside of the drawer was dark, but with a closer look, I noticed something flashing in the back of it.

I reached my hand deep inside it, and finally felt something hard. Grabbing the items, I pulled them to me, hearing something small filling them.

And when I finally brought them before the light… They were…

…Little bottles, filled with small capsules.

What are these pills? I've never seen them before. I was even more afraid to open the bottles and check the medicine from up close.

Every one was aquamarine blue, same size, all of them signed with "Externum Amplificator".

Another missed shot. No clue what it means… Maybe possibly… I could bring this stuff with me to analyze further?

But who knows where I should go afterwards… I… I lost my energy for thinking. I cannot stay here, can I? Should I return to these weird people?

Where else I could go?

My responsibility and instinct disappeared when I entered this cursed place.

I instinctively took one bottle of these capsules and dug it deep into one of my pockets. I locked the rest in their place, back at the abyss of the drawer.

The mysterious book… It's too thick to fit it into my pocket… But maybe… I can do it somehow? I remember I had a text scanner upstairs, but is it still working?

I decided to fit this big clump of paper inside my other pocket, and it barely made it inside. Weighing one of my sides down, it stuck out of my coat, looking like a brick.

What about the papers on the desk? Is there any value in them?

I picked one of them, a random paper lying carelessly on the desk surface, I didn't have time nor deduction skills to decide which one would be the most useful. Only one would suffice, I guess.

And there was one thing left to check.

When I turned my eyes up, to the wall, I found dozens of different and intriguing pictures pinned to it. Their colors were all faded, but I could still distinguish some things.

Giving them a quick searching glance, my eyes stumbled upon something that made me stop breathing.

On most of these photos, were people I have never seen. But what was the most heartbreaking, is that I felt they are somehow… familiar.

The facial features, they seemed to be already in my head, something was telling me that I've met them once, but I couldn't remember, where and when.

On one photo, a man was sitting on a chair, watching the news with a heading titled: "AV-666". His middle-aged face was really clouded and worried. Eyebrows, which already were gray from the oldness and stress, were frowning, and the rectangular glasses he wore, were smudged and fixed with a tape. He held a lightened cigarette in his right hand and propped his head with the other. He was looking at the screen with a crossed face.

"AV-666… Haven't I already heard about this from somewhere?" I whispered quietly to myself, but something was blocking me from uncovering this dark alley of my memory.

All of the other photos were similar. One had a middle-aged woman, smiling to the camera with a birthday cake in her hands, the other showed a young, handsome man, with a smile showing something world-changing on his small computer, And in the another one, a different man was looking goofily into the camera, making a ridiculous face. This one man in particular… You could swear that you've seen these light-blue eyes already! Who are all of these people? Their faces repeat in every few of the photos.

But something that almost all of the pictures had in common, was a little girl with a wide smile and astounding green eyes. She was an inescapable part of most. And her resemblance to someone close to me pierced through my mind like a loud gunshot.

She… This is my aunt!

The eyes were the same. The smile was different, it was more honest and earnest. A little girl was smirking at me right now, and it filled me with a lot of unbearable anxiety.

How old are these photos? Who are all of these people?

Is this possibly… My distant family…?

I could never know, they all looked kind of different from me, I couldn't tell the similarities just from these old pictures.

But sweating nervously, I noticed another photo being covered by three of others, being pinned in one place. Just a small corner of it was sticking from below them.

I carefully moved the pictures on the desk, and froze in place when I saw what was in it.

…

My hands started to shake rapidly, I couldn't seem to let my breath out of me.

What… in the world…

These people…

They…

In the picture, that shook my entire self, were seven people.

Standing at the back were three adults.

One man, especially tall, his head was almost reaching out of the frame. A storm of curly, brown hair was covering a somehow tired and bony face. The olive eyes of this person pierced through the paper, this color was beautiful, but held something painful in it. The face wasn't smiling, it was full of an unknown fear and pain.

Next to the man stood a shorter woman. Her skin was in the color of wood burnt by the Sun, but her black eyes reflected the light that shined through the shadows of the photo. Contrary to the other man, she was smiling widely, showing her perfect teeth. Her face was exotic, beautiful and making me want to look at it at all times. A longing comfort could be seen in her dreamy gaze.

And next to them was standing an older woman, also with stunning, green eyes, but not smiling…

…It was my aunt.

But what shocked me the most, were three small children standing in the front of those three. All of them were wearing white, simple clothing, which was particularly odd. Their faces looked all so innocent.

Similar to themselves, like drops of water. One boy, probably the oldest, stood before his father, and held him by his hand. His hair was short, dark-brown curls, almost covering his slim, darker face. His emerald-green, beautiful eyes looked at me with a strange glare. Like if this boy was begging for help, I couldn't feel anything but worried about him.

The two other children were girls, one with long and black, shiny hair, and darker skin too, but here eyes were black, like her mothers.

And the last child, the youngest girl with brown, curly hair and eyes of the color of green leaves. Looking pitifully, with the stare I know well.

It was young me.

…

The photo fell of my shaking hands.

Then, a few tears dropped down to it, making the faces magically blur.

I looked at it dissolving in my view, as my heart throbbed, and everything around seemed to dissolve in my mind.

What… the actual… h-hell…

Why… Are these…

The answer was already known. I didn't have to think about it long, it came to me immediately, like a lightning bolt.

Something hurt inside me so much, swirling all around my organs. An anxious feeling of discovering the truth, but also knowing that there is more to come. Sometimes the most honest truth will hurt you more than the biggest lie. It pulsed through my veins, the pain of wasted years, living in a bubble of pure false.

I cleared my eyes of tears, and grabbed the photo, pushing it closely to my heart. Still weeping and sobbing, I tried to reach the deepest corners of my mind, to find these people in my memories.

But no situations appeared. Nothing special. Nothing precise. It's almost like an illusion to me. Something anyone could tell me it existed, but I had no proof for it being in this world…

Are they still alive?

Can finding these people give me some more hope, in order to change this cursed world?

My… family?

…

I calmed down a little.

There was also the seventh person on this photo. But the problem was, I could only see their tall posture and white coat because the photo was torn off slightly.

And who could this person possibly be?

With solitude in my heart, I put the picture in my inner pocket, inside of my coat.

I will never let this photo get lost or in anyone's hand.

…

Is this all that's in this place? Just a high pile of books, a desk with useless papers and a photo wall with people I don't even know? What could my aunt possibly dedicate this place to? What purpose did it hold? Can I find any other traces?

I stood up from the chair I was sitting on.

But as I was about to turn around, and look for more unusual things, I felt a cold item being lifted up to my head.

"Don't dare to move." I heard a low voice speak.

With the corner of my eyes, I saw a shiny gun being pulled up to my head, and a terrifying face full of terror and fury.

A drop of nervous sweat dropped down on the floor.

The noises from earlier…

What have I involved myself into…