When last we spent time with Mr. Garcia, he was trapped in a dilapidated building that was falling apart all around him. Rushing to the stairs to make his way out, he became further entrapped as the door to the stairwell disappeared behind him. You catch up with Part IV here. Will he brave the stairs, or will the building collapse all around him before he can make his way out? Or will he wake up? Let’s find out …
Solomon took a deep breath to calm his nerves and looked over the balustrade again. The stairway seemed to stretch down into nothing. Whether it was a trick of the light or a shift in his dream he knew not, but he watched as the landings disappeared and the stair morph from square sets of stairs and landings to one long spiral. He stepped away from the rail and leaned back against one of the walls. He realized he was sweating.
The building shuddered, shaking loose dust, flecks of drywall, paint chips, and other debris. Solomon looked around, hoping to discover some other way out, but the walls remained bare, save for the growing cracks in them. The building shuddered again, raining down even more dust and debris, making it hard for Solomon to breathe. He wasn't waking up; he didn't know how much longer he would have to tolerate the dream environment before he could escape. The building shuddered a third time, severing the landing from the walls, leaving Solomon on an island of concrete. Without another thought, he went running down the stairs.
The walls fell away completely, leaving his surroundings in darkness. The stairs were illuminated by some unseen source of light, as if there was a skylight, yet when he cautioned a glance up, there was no source of light to be found. What he discovered instead was a disappearing stair--everything step he took down resulted in a step at the top vanishing. Without any other options, he charged down the stairs.
Around and around and around he pattered, expecting something to change at any moment, though nothing changed, and nothing would change for several hundred steps. It wasn't until Solomon was feeling strained from the constant movement and the focus it required to not stumble that there was a noticeable change. Where there once were bare concrete walls, walls built of cinderblock began to materialize from out of the darkness. This happened is such a gradual manner, Solomon didn't notice it until the walls were tangible. Exhausted from his descent, he placed a hand on the wall out of habit to steady himself. Feeling the brick under his palm, he stopped moving entirely to look around.
The lighting had changed. Whereas before, the stairs' illumination could only be explained as dream nonsense, there were sconces at regular intervals in which brilliant torches were embedded. Solomon acclimated to the change in environment and ventured a peek over the balustrade. He could see clear to the base of the stair, which appeared to be not very far below. With renewed vigor, he took off again, running down the stairs until he was just a few steps from the bottom. The torches ended well before the stairs did, and began again farther along the corridor at the bottom. There, in the shadows at the base of the stair, leaning with their back against the wall, stood a figure dressed all in black. Black trench coat, black gloves, black boots. There was a casual air of danger about them. Solomon slowed as he approached them, unsure of who, or what, he would encounter; there was no way to avoid them, as they were placed between the stair and the corridor beyond with no other exit visible. The figure spoke once Solomon stepped off the stair.
Continued after the break
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A traveling merchant finds himself in quite the predicament when he manages to win a duel, leading him down a dark path. A tale from the Odds ‘n’ Endings Boutique.
"You're early, Solomon."
The voice was feminine. Low tones. Silky smooth. Soothing, almost, if not for the trepidation he felt as he approached.
"Or late, perhaps," she said, with a tone of indifference. Her voice seemed disembodied; nothing in her poise indicated she had spoken. "Depends on your perspective."
Solomon paused a scant few feet from the figure. Though he was afraid, he was also curious, and the two sensations vied for control over his psychology. He shifted his gaze from one side to another, looking with his eyes more than turning his head. In this way, he confirmed there was no other way out. He also recognized the tremors had stopped. Without the threat of being crushed, or falling to his doom, his curiosity won, beating back his fear with relative ease.
"Early?" he said, directing his full attention to the figure before him. "What do you mean?"
"Early or late. Now or then, then or now. Doesn't matter. You're here."
"Where's here?"
". . . ." She waited, letting the silence steal over Solomon, leaving him on the edge of repeating his question, before she answered.
"Here, as nowhere else can be. You are here, not anywhere else."
"Who are you?"
"Ah, let's not rush to matters demanding degrees of comprehension you are not ready for." She stepped away from the wall and turned to face him. "We should begin, instead, with answering the more pertinent question: Who. Are. You?"
Who this mysterious figure? What does this dreamscape have in store for our dear protagonist? More questions arise as we move deeper into this story. Well, one thing’s for sure: the only way to uncover the mystery of this figure is to come back next week!
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