It was a cold wintery morning, as the sun rose. Neste stepped out into the open breeze, taking in the icy fresh air. He jogged down the cobblestone pathway confidently. He had ran down this path every day for two years, and he hadn't missed a day yet. Taking a path up a steep hill, he paced himself. As he reached the top, he spotted a peculiar building he had never seen. He frowned, wondering how it came there. Surely it hadn't been there before, yet no matter how much he tried to convince himself, something about the strange building drew him in. Moving closer, he glanced around for the doorway. Spotting it, he stepped in front of it, took a deep breath, then opened the door.
Wow!, he thought. It was an indoor garden, with brilliant shades of green, blue and much more. There were many species there, including some he had never seen before, like the green slug-like creature. He took a walk around the place, admiring all the different sorts of plants. He saw another door and grinned. Somewhere at the back of his mind, deep into his subconscious, a phrase kept repeating over and over; curiousity kills the cat. However, this was buried deep into his mind, and there wasn't a single doubt when he opened the old-fashioned door.
A grand hall with several pillars with rich, elegeant carpet lay in front of him. There was a gigantic marble statue, crafted brilliantly. He tried to look around, yet he couldn't seem to take his eyes of the statue for more than a few seconds. It was so deep and meaningful, he thought. He gazed into the eyes of the statue. Then he suddenly tore his eyes off it. Something was wrong, he sensed. Past experience had given him a sixth sense. Observing his surroundings, he tried to control where his eyes looked. Then he spotted it! The door he had opened when he had entered had closed. Somehow, he hadn't heard the sound of a door shutting, and there wasn't a breeze either! That meant...that someone had closed it quietly! As he had this sudden train of thought, he realised there was nothing around him, it was just silent. Maybe he was just paranoid, he thought, but his grandfather had always told him to trust his instincts. Something was very wrong about this place. The silence, came his subconscious, but he didn't register it.
A sudden red light emitted from the statue, and several dark figures came into view, surrounding him without a sound. RUN!, He thought! He sped across the polished ground and layed his eyes upon the door at the opposite end. Was it the right way?, he thought, would it just get him deeper into this mess? Realising that he couldn't go back now, he crashed open the door and he charged out onto a bridge. Sprinting as quick as he could, he came charging through the bridge at a speed that would have shamed an Olympian. Looking back, he saw the mysterious figures behind him. "Faster!", he cried to himself, trying to make him run faster, but as if the bridge was taunting him, he couldn't seem to make any progress. He risked another look back, and saw that they were nearly onto him! The bridge came to an end on a small platform, and there was another small building a few metres away, and no bridge. He would have to jump!
He braced himself, then gave a giant leap, hoping he would make it. No! He missed it...then grabbed it by the tip of his finger. Neste placed his second hand, then tried to drag himself up. He struggled to find the strength, but eventually he pulled himself up, with a collection of blisters on his hand. Speedily running into the building, he stopped at the sight. There were pictures of people on the wall...pictures of people in happier times. His eyes were betraying him again, as he stood, mesmerised looking at a picture of himself, 5 years old. It was rather faded then realised it was getting clearer and sharper at this very moment! He forced himself to look away from it, then span around, but too late! The figures were onto him. Realising there was no place to run, he reached up and tore the picture from the wall. Please no...then he fell to the ground, clutching the golden memory of the happiest moment of his life, and deep into his subconsciousness a phrase etched into his mind, curiousity kills the cat.
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