I woke up one day at 6:30, as usual, to my alarm buzzing. I slammed my hand on top of it, making the noise stop, before reluctantly rolling out of bed. I went for quick run, then got home at around 7, in a rush.
Shower. Check.
Clothes. Check.
Teeth. Check.
Work. Off I went. I was a police officer at the time, working with a decent salary considering what I needed. But, my boss was petty, and seemed to take a significant distaste to me. If I was even a second late, there would be hell to pay. I got into work, making sure that my boss knew that I was in.
“I’m in!” I yelled peering through the doorway. Then, under my breath, I muttered “Just before you decapitate me or something”.
“Samuel!” He yelled, strangely enough, as that isn’t my name. He ran, well, sort of toddled out of his office to me. “A reported burglary. Go to this address.” He passed a sheet of paper, and waved me off as he toddled back into his room.
“Fuck sake” I said, under my breath again, as I walked out to my police car. Sirens on, but in no rush. I inspected the area - nobody lived at the house. It was a waste of time.
I arrived there, eventually, and walked into the house.
“Hello!” I yelled from the hallway.
“Anyone home?” I walked around, dust and cobwebs covered the rooms. Hardly a place I’d bother to burgle. “I’m not here to rob you!” I mocked. “I might do, like!”
It was very clear that this place was abandoned. I walked into a dining room, which was completely empty, apart from a grand piano. “How cliché” I mumbled, sitting on the stool. I took a deep breath in. A little bit of time off work wouldn’t do me any harm, right? So, I opened the lid of the piano, shaking dust onto the floor. I began to play. The piece ended with higher notes, slowing down and getting quieter. It concluded with one final low note, as a round of applause began. I looked up, but nobody was there.
I heard a young girls voice behind me.
“That was really good,” She spoke, “Can you teach me?” I turned around. She had light ginger hair, poking out of her red coat, as she had her hood up, and covering her freckled face.
“Uhm, who are you?” I asked, trembling. “I thought nobody lived here.”
“Nobody LIVES here,” she told, “I stay here.”
I was confused. “What? Let’s find your parents.” I insisted. However, she disappeared when I blinked. I freaked out. I ran to the hallway, but the door wasn’t there. I could’ve sworn that it was there last time. I couldn’t have missed anything, could I? Maybe there was more than one hallway? Perhaps, but if there were any other doors, then they had gone too. I tapped in to my walkie-talkie, and checked my phone, but neither had signal. I had a panic attack, and fell to the floor.
I woke up playing the piano. Maybe I’d started in my sleep, but when I woke up, I just continued. Not sure why or even how, but I didn’t even think to stop. Once I’d realised, I ended the piece. I’ve been playing piano since I was 5 years of age, and though I’m just a police officer, it had stuck. I stood, realising that there was a metal pole in the kitchen. Hoping that it would help, I smashed it where the door was - into the wall.
I did damage, the door became visible again and I opened it, climbing through the now-broken wall into a boxed room. Was this meant to be the porch? I continued, kicking, smashing, and then realised. The windows. Perhaps I could get outside by smashing those. I walked out of the ‘porch’ and into the living room. I used the pole, drew it back, and hurled it at the window. It flew through the sky, very quickly - yet almost in slow motion as it struck. Glass went onto the floor, inside. The window did not smash. The pole landed on the floor, rolling to my feet. I tried again, it was just a repeat. I hit it, and hit it. Glass did appear on the floor, but more glass was hidden behind. Surely it’d run out at some point. I dragged it, flinging the pole around like some sort of mental case, and smashed more of the window. More glass by my feet. More attempts at smashing this seemingly never-ending pane of glass.
I screamed. If I had never sat down and played the piano, if I hadn’t come here - I knew that this place was abandoned, or if I left after establishing that nobody was here, perhaps I wouldn’t be in this predicament. Perhaps I would be doing a normal days work, shouting at teens for drinking, vaping, or smoking in the park. Perhaps I’d still be doing nothing of use, but I’d be doing something. I rested the pole against the window. Then, I began slamming it into the glass.
After several hours of doing so, stopping and starting, the glass broke, and I climbed through, into the grass on the front garden. I got lost, had I shrunk? Had I teleported? Was I in a jungle, or was I a miniature figure in the green grass of a garden belonging to an abandoned house? Would I ever get home? Would I ever see my wife again? I tried to scream, but nothing came out. I came across this notebook and pen. I’ve used it as a diary. Hopefully, if I get out of this nightmare, I will be able to publish this nonsensical booklet of words explaining the most unrealistic situation I could’ve come up with. I long for people to laugh at my story and call it bullshit. I long for anyone to hear it at all. If I don’t survive - hunger is a serious problem - then I hope somebody else finds this booklet. If they are in my current situation, I wish them the best of luck. I might have to end it all, by myself, somehow.
DO NOT VISIT ABANDONED HOUSES. PLEASE.